A recent Colorado Postcard –a regular feature of Colorado Public Radio—described the inspiration Katherine Lee Bates experienced atop Pikes Peak that led her to write of “purple mountain’s majesty” in the enduring national song America the Beautiful. It told of Zalmon Simmons, founder of the Beauty Rest mattress company financing construction of the Manitou and Pikes Peak cog railroad in 1889. But I was most surprised to learn that explorer Zebulon Pike for whom the mountain is named was never able to summit, even after multiple attempts.
The postcard reminded me again of the different gifts we exercise on behalf of Christ’s mission: music and the arts, financial generosity, engineering, design, and construction know-how. . . . and also, of work left undone, tasks that remain for others to take up. I am so glad and grateful for all we’ve accomplished together in Christ’s name. But I also recognize that there is still work to do, songs to write and mountains to climb. In these final sermons as your pastor, I hope to express what is most important to consider as you turn your gaze toward future thriving.
I’m using the lens of the Presbyterian Church USA bold initiative known as “the Matthew 25 movement,” centering Jesus’ words to followers about welcoming and serving the most vulnerable neighbors as they would welcome and serve him. Last week we focused on building a vital community. Today we’ll highlight the priority of service. Ironically, perhaps, our text is an excerpt from Jesus’ first public sermon. He has been anointed in baptism and undergone a wilderness experience of discernment and temptation. Now at last he’s returned to Galilee and the hometown folks.
A reading from the good news according to Luke in the fourth chapter, verses 14 through 22. Listen for God’s word to Central. [Luke 4:14-22]
It’s said of preachers that they really have just one sermon. I hope you can readily identify mine. (I briefly considered asking this question and hear your responses out loud, but a lawyer friend told me once never ask a question when you’re not 100% sure of the answer, so I decided to just give you mine: worship the God of love and share that liberating love with others).
In Jesus’ first public sermon, the message is clear: his ministry would fulfill the ancient prophetic vision of one who would set things right. To repair economic realities that impoverish people; to break the chains of the oppressed; to heal the sick and suffering; and to proclaim God’s saving love to the people of earth. Everything that came after—from his teachings that got him into hot water with religious leaders and ruling authorities and his unconditional inclusion of outsiders, to the example of sacrifice and trust in God’s life-giving power—-would echo these words. Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.
The Church that would follow Jesus can find our marching orders in this text. That’s why throughout its storied history, Central’s mission has centered service. We do so in obedience to Jesus. When we walk to the Shepler Heritage Center later, the refreshed exhibits testify to the variety of ways this has been accomplished in particular times and in response to changing realities. Welcome to outsiders, advocacy for the poor, providing housing, support for families in crisis, immersion experiences that awaken conscience, prioritizing health equity and access, addressing increased gun violence, and more.
The Matthew 25 initiative calls for the “eradication of systemic poverty,” which embraces all of that and more. Central responds generously to our neighbors’ needs (as evidenced by the outpouring of gifts this Christmas season). Our spiritual forebears knew there was more work to be done. And so do we.
The community briefing at noon today led by Rich Garcia and members of his immigration law firm was prompted by fears of mass deportation of undocumented refugees and conditions in the detention centers built to house them. Upon hearing a news article citing the economic profit of such centers, we were copied on an email from the law firm, stating simply, Tragic. I am not hopeful that a kind 2025 is in our future. Across the millennia, I hear echoes of Jesus’ calling for hospitality to the stranger who lives among us.
As you get ready for new leadership, I offer two ways to enhance the mission experienced here and in the wider community.
I don’t always turn to my doctor brother Jack for Biblical insight, but once, he interpreted a story Jesus told in a way I had never heard before or since, that startled me and shifted my way of thinking. It’s the story of a man traveling on a dangerous road who was attacked by thieves who beat him up and stole all his money. A priest comes along but—because he had an important sermon to deliver—hurried away from the suffering guy.
Another religious leader passed by and actually moves to the other side of the road to avoid any contact that might make him late for important temple service. Finally, a person often categorized as lesser, even morally suspect, stopped, administered first aid, brought him to an inn, and pre-paid the innkeeper for his room and board.
It’s a story we tell often and generally with the warning not to act like the religious leaders, but to come to the aid of those in need, like the “Good Samaritan” did. Every time.
But Jack insisted that interpretation didn’t go far enough. It wasn’t that the priest and the minister were bad or uncaring people; but that their busy lives left no room for anything else. They couldn’t help the poor guy because they were on a tight and unforgiving schedule. So Jack reads the text and decides to build in time in his schedule for the unexpected phone call, the surprise appearance, the highway breakdown, the concern that pops up from nowhere. (I think this may be why he always arrives an hour early, but he’s always ready, just in case)
How often does time tyrannize! So much good that might be done were it not that we are too busy: too busy to notice, too busy to see another, too busy to stop what we’re doing and get involved, too wrapped up in our own concerns that we have no time for anyone else’s.
Look, no one can do everything. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Sometimes, “no” is a holy word and an appropriate, faithful response to a request. But to follow where Jesus leads means we have to make time to look for his footsteps and discover where they lead. Maybe not where we planned to go, with traveling companions not of our choosing. Jesus will sometimes lead us into enterprises we never would have thought possible.
Some of our cherished traditions may be changed. How long do you think it will take for the new pastor to suggest (gently and persuasively) they would like to do something differently? Please stop and take a deep breath, listen for the voice of Jesus calling and say yes. I don’t pretend it’s easy, but oh my, will it be worth it!
Over the course of my ministry, some people try to make a distinction between an “activist” church and a “spiritual” one, as if the two could ever be divided. Service is nurtured through Spirit, and we are renewed for the difficult work of love through the experience of God’s love for us. In addition to the overflowing gifts to those in need this Christmas, you delivered signed cards and flowers to 31 Central members, accompanied by warm visits.
We fulfill Christ’s mission with active care for one another. And the thing is, friends, fulfilling Christ’s mission is personally fulfilling. It will produce joy and that deep, deep peace that passes our human understanding.
Which is evidence of the other principle of service: it’s mutual. We love because God first loved us. Jesus’ primary mission was to serve humanity, broken and hurting and in need. That includes everyone. So as much as we are called to serve, we are also lovingly invited to receive. Sometimes the recognition of our need is difficult. We’ve exalted an individualism that insists I can take care of myself and my own—and will, without help from anyone.
Perhaps unconsciously, we’ve adopted a perspective that considers “need” somehow shameful, and needy people flawed and burdensome. But until we recognize the deep interconnection of all humanity, and our common hungers, fears, and vulnerabilities, we will miss out on some of life’s richest moments, locked away in our comfortable but isolating bubbles.
One blessing of the pandemic was the sense of solidarity we felt with one another. Remember going outside and banging pots and howling every night at 8 to thank essential workers (and maybe blow off some pent-up steam)? The divisions between the “haves and have-nots” blurred and we could experience mutual empathy. . . and mutual ability to contribute to another’s good. A sense of community begins when we recognize that we are not the only ones struggling or doubting or hurting.
We all have something of value to share. We all have light to shine in the darkness, and a song in our hearts that no one else knows. Sing it! Bring it! Friends, that’s the way people will experience God in their world. In our world. That big, big dream to “eradicate systemic poverty” is impossible without the recognition that such steps are undertaken for the healing of everyone, including you and me.
Many of us have heightened anxiety as we anticipate the future under the incoming administration. We are alarmed by saber-rattling rhetoric, renewed focus on empire-building, and economic solutions favoring the rich. But if you are tempted to despair or disengage, remember to look for Jesus’ footprints, listen for his voice, and follow. When you did it to one of these little ones who are members of my family, you did it to me.
May it be so.
