THE MCJ

PISKIE-LETICS

In Christian worship, the purpose of the sermon is twofold.  The minister is to both explain the Word of God as fully as he can and also help his listeners apply that Word in their own walks with the Lord.

Connoisseurs of the sermon(of whom I am one; I've got five volumes of Charles Spurgeon that I'm slowly working my way through) generally consider Reformed Protestants to be far and away the best preachers in Christendom.  This is more for practical reasons than religious ones; in many Reformed churches, the sermon is the most important part of the service.  In these churches, the most prominent feature of the church's interior is a pulpit rather than an altar.

Roman Catholic sermons are widely considered to be some of the worst in the Christian church.  This belief is, however, incorrect.  Any denomination with the marvelous Benedict Groeschel in its line-up starts out the game two runs ahead and Pope John Paul II was a formidable preacher.  And still is, for that matter(sermons, like prayers, don't have to have words).

The worst preaching in Christianity, and we're talking St. Louis Browns-level bad, occurs in the Episcopal Church and the following should explain why.  It is not an actual sermon but it is representative of far too much Episcopal preaching these days.

Imagine yourself in a large, old and beautiful Episcopal church on a Sunday morning.  The sun is shining through the stained glass and the reredos is a delight to behold even from where you're sitting.  The gradual hymn, one of your favorites, has just ended and you sit down and contentedly lean back in your pew as Frank Griswold ascends into the church's pulpit:

Over these next few weeks we will be traveling through the season of Epiphany on our way to Lent and Easter. The season takes its name from a Greek word meaning "manifestation, revelation, disclosure." It began on January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany, when we in the Western churches observed the manifestation to the non-Jewish world of the glory of God, seen by the Wise Men in the face of the child. In Greek, the Wise Men are termed magoi or, as we say in English, magi. Most likely the magi were Persian scholars, expert in the stars and the interpretation of dreams. As such, they were drawn beyond the mundane and predictable into something larger, mysterious, beyond the boundaries of the known limits of reality.

The Wise Men, drawn by an unfamiliar star, start out on a journey forsaking the security of their studies and their carefully catalogued certitudes. They leave everything behind and follow the leading of a star to a yet to be determined destination.

Though the Feast of the Epiphany occurs only twelve days after Christmas day, the actual journey of the Magi would have taken considerably longer. In his poem, The Journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot gives voice to the Wise Men as they reflect upon the rigors of following the star.

Fascinated by the star that insinuated itself into their field of inquiry, the Wise Men are drawn beyond themselves into a process of dispossession. They must jettison all assumptions and tidy expectations in order to be made ready for an encounter with God. This encounter will both undo them and crack them open to a new way of perceiving the immediacy and unboundaried love of a God who leaps down from the heavens, pitches a tent among us, and inhabits our world in all its contradictions and complexities. Comprehending such a leap had to be prepared for, and thus the journey of dispossession and purification of consciousness – without which they might have perceived nothing, cursed the star and returned home with their treasure chests unopened.

Having presented their gifts, the Wise Men, warned in a dream not to return to King Herod, left for their own country "by another road," or in Greek, "by another way." The phrase "by another way" has been interpreted to mean not simply returning by a new route but changed, and now seeing in a new way.

Episcopal sermons, as dreadful as they frequently are, are not without a certain utility.  Right about here, you're probably thinking about what you're going to have for lunch, trying to decide if there are any chores that need doing when you get home, making a mental list of things you need to pick up at the supermarket, or planning your dinner menu.

Or maybe you're going to spend the afternoon out somewhere and so you're considering various interesting activities.  Perhaps you're thinking of a movie you'd like to see.  Maybe a concert would be more to your liking, or a nice, relaxing walk through a local museum.  But since he's not saying anything worth listening to, the one thing you're most emphatically not doing is listening to the pretentious windbag droning at the pulpit.   

God often works in our own lives by unsettling us and fascinating us. By various routes and by different "stars" God insinuates God’s own self into our consciousness and we are drawn beyond ourselves into a journey of growth and discovery that transcends the boundaries of the known and familiar, safe and predictable, and involves risk and unknowing.

Like the Wise Men all we can do is undertake the journey, unsure of its ultimate destination. And yet, in a curious way, the journey is part of the destination. That is, the journey shapes and forms us and opens us to the deeper mystery and enlargement of truth or new perception and understanding which is the journey’s end. Along the way we may become footsore or disconsolate. We may hear "voices singing in our ears, saying that this was all folly."

One should never assume that Episcopal sermons are completely without spiritual value.  Because it's here where you pick up the Prayer Book, turn to the Psalter and silently recite Psalm 51 in order to repent of all the obscenities and profanities that ran through your head as you mentally demanded that Frank get to the damned point some time today.

Such are the crooked and wily ways of a God who is expert in irony and indirection: a God who, out of love for us and a passionate desire for our full flourishing, places a star on the horizon of our consciousness. Something is planted within us: an awareness, a yearning, a question and we are drawn out of ourselves and our self-constructed world into something larger and unknown. And thus begins our journey. We leave the safety of home, being drawn forth by God’s love.

If such love could reveal itself to the Wise Men in the form of a child, it can reveal itself to us in any form and by any means. A God who is no stranger to the flesh and the vagaries of our humanity can show up anywhere, leap over any boundaries we might set and say, with disconcerting immediacy, "Here I am."

While our journeys are personal they are seldom undertaken alone. Doubtless along the way, when the journey became difficult, the Wise Men had to encourage one another to remain faithful. Possibly one of them was ready to abandon the journey, and only through the solicitude and urging of his companions was he able to travel on.

Your theological education continues as you turn to and read Psalm 88 since you think that God has completely abandoned you.

As members of Christ’s risen body, we are called to bear one another’s burdens and exercise a ministry of encouragement. Seldom do we find ourselves all in the same place. Our perceptions of God’s ways and the routes we must take vary greatly. And yet, there is only one destination, one Truth toward which we are all drawn, and before whom we kneel in self offering.

May we in this season of Epiphany, and all the seasons of our life in Christ that we pass through together, strengthen and support one another. And may we keep our eyes fixed upon the star.

The $20.00 that you were planning on putting in the collection plate has just become fifty cents and you tell yourself to be sure and notice what time services are at the Baptist church up the street when you drive home after the service.

Posted on 1/24/2004 4:11:58 PM , 32 comments