To whom should we turn?

Proper 16, Year B Sermon: To whom should we turn?

Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Joshua 24:1-2a,14-18 “As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”

Psalm 34:15-22 “The LORD is near the brokenhearted …”

Ephesians 6:10-20 “Put on the whole armor of God …”

John 6:56-69 “It is the Spirit that gives life.”

It’s good to be home. I know this isn’t our home parish (not officially, anyway), but for 40+ years, whenever Barb and I have come back to Federal Way to visit, this is where we’ve come to worship and, on occasion, celebrate the Holy Eucharist with you.

We’re living in Mount Vernon now, having retired and settled there some 7 years ago, and although she can’t be with us this morning, I was so pleased when Terry Elofson invited us to come and be with you this morning.

Episcopalians are called people of the Book. People of the Book. Sometimes I think we should be called people of the library, because it’s not unusual to see prayer books and hymnals and song books and books of alternative services and bibles in our pews. We can’t help it. 

Our is a tangible faith. Earthy. Touchy. The things we do as clergy are called Manual acts. Holding the Gospel as we process. Lifting the bread at the altar, and the alms, and the wine. We ring bells and in some places we add in the smells. We stand, sit, kneel. Our faith is triune: Spirit, Soul, AND Body.

Every place has the way it does things. We’re not idol worshipers, but we also don’t want to see our furniture moved too much, or the liturgy changed too much, or too many unfamiliar hymns added to the mix, do we?

We love our scriptures, although we probably don’t memorize them like some folks do. And yet I’ll bet each of us here has a favorite verse or two we can draw on if we need it. What are some of your favorite passages?

(Let people share their favorites)

As you might guess, I’ve got a few favorites, too.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth …

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want …

    For God so loved the world …

    The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life …

    A couple of my favorites are in the lessons for today.

In the first reading, Joshua says, “... as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

What’s that all about? 

The children of Israel have reached the banks of the Jordan River. They have spent 40 years in the wilderness. The generation that left Egypt has died away for all intents and purposes, and the people are ready to move into the Promised Land.

But do you know what? When you look through their backpacks, their carry-ons, suitcases, and bedrolls, they’ve hung onto their family heirlooms. They’ve kept their gods. They haven’t really given up the past.

You know, we don’t give up the past, really. We don’t turn our backs on it. But our past tends to hang onto us. 

Joshua says, “We’ve got a choice to make. YHWH says we can hang onto those chains we dragged out of Egypt and return to slavery, or we can move forward, and experience a life of freedom, and peace; a land so rich and full that our neighbors can eat off the gleanings from our fields.

This is a struggle we all have. It doesn’t matter how great or horrible the past has been. We want to hang onto it. Sometimes there’s sentimental value there, but sometimes there are painful memories we just can’t let go. People who’ve hurt us, or let us down. 

Joshua says, “You can hang onto those, if you wish. Just remember they will be the master, and you will be the slave, and you will never know what Adonai has in store for you. As for me and my household, we’re going to let go and let God.”

I think that’s an important verse for churches in transition, but really, it’s for all of us. I like Joshua’s invitation. “Do what you want, but for me, let’s see what God has in store.” It’s forward looking; it’s hopeful.

The other passage that strikes me is the line from Peter in the Gospel. Jesus has hit a snag in his ministry and many of his followers were deserting him. Jesus asks the Twelve: “How about you? Are you going to abandon me, too?”

I don’t know if we realize just how profound a question that is. I don’t know of anything more terrifying or harmful to the human psyche than what happens when we are abandoned. 

I was 9 years old when I came home from school and asked my brother where Mom was. He said, “She’s not here. She’s gone.” 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked, and he said, “She’s left. Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.”

I’d had no inkling our biological mother would abandon the family without saying good-bye. I assumed it was all my fault, of course, because that’s what we do; that’s what kids do. “In the absence of information, children will always fill in that blank to their own detriment,” says John Bradshaw, a family therapist and author.

So when I see Jesus ask the question, “Will you leave me, too?” That’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? 

And in that scary, heart-breaking moment, Peter pipes up, and for once he’s not playing the fool.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

We’ve left our chains in Egypt. We’ve left Torah on Mount Sinai. We have made our choice to come and follow you. Why? Because we have come to believe that you are the Holy One of God.”

In other words, in YOU we have hope; we have a hope-filled future.

We live in a world where people are afraid. We’re afraid of war. We’re afraid of famine. We are (many of us) a paycheck or two from becoming homeless. We are reaching an age (many of us) where a catastrophic illness could destroy us and everything we worked for. 

And you know, we’re not miracle workers in that sense of turning water into wine, or walking on water, or having the storms of life shut up just ‘cause we say so. But we are miracle workers if we open our eyes and ears to our neighbors and respond to them as the loving eyes and ears of Jesus. 

Like Jesus, we can embrace those who are unclean, unloved, perhaps even “unloveable,” because while they may be unclean or worthless to the world, they are God’s precious little ones. They are worthy of our time, our attention, our love, and our care – just like they were worth it to Jesus.

Jesus did not institute a sacrament as much as a vocation and a challenge. “Will you take me in, in such a way that where you go, I will go, also?”

That’s what Jesus wants. That’s what Jesus is looking for.

I said earlier that we are people of the Book, but really, we are people of the author, Jesus Christ, himself. 

As John said at the beginning of the Gospel that bears his name: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word WAS God. He was with God in the beginning … in him was life, and that life was the light of humanity.”

May he be our life, our Bread of Life, our Cup of Salvation, as well. Amen

Sermon delivered to St. Matthew’s (Browns Point, Tacoma, WA) 08/25/2024

The Rev. Keith F. Axberg, Retired