| Rector’s
Sermon
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| Last Sunday I had a one-word sermon: Welcome. Today I have a two-word sermon, but before I tell you what those two words are, let me just observe that just two words can be very dangerous. The story is told of the novice who joined a monastic order in which one of the rules was that you only got to say two words once every seven years. And so after the novice’s first seven years he came to the Father Superior of the order and said, “Food lousy.” The next seven years went by and he had qualified for the next two words and so went into the Father Superior’s office and said, “Bed hard.” After the end of the next seven years, he came to the Father Superior’s office and said, “I quit!” to which the Father Superior replied, “Well, it’s about time. All you’ve ever done since you been here is complain!” And so even two words can get you into a certain amount of trouble. My two words this morning are “Try it.” If last Sunday’s word was “Welcome,” then I’d like us to go one step farther and encourage you to find a way to live into this place where you’ve been welcomed. Last Sunday we had a Ministries Fair where we displayed lots of opportunities for you to “try it.” We have Outreach ministries, we have Adult Education opportunities, we have Choir, we have Acolytes, we have Ushers, we have Bible Study—all sorts of ways that we can “try it.” But it does occur to me that these are reasonably safe ways, albeit very fulfilling ways, that we can try what it means to be part of this community, part of this faith community. But it also occurs to me that just “trying it” can be risky, or dangerous, or sacrificial in some way. For example, let’s think for a minute about the gospel from Matthew. It has to do with forgiveness (now there’s a loaded word). I’ve heard it said that one possible sermon title for this text could be “75…,76…,77…, POW!” which is to say if you’re a Biblical literalist you are required to forgive 77 times and then at the end of that, let ‘em have it. I do think, however, that Jesus is challenging us to forgive even when the offense is so ingrained and repetitive as to harden us irreparably from any intention of forgiveness or reconciliation. And so, “try it” might mean that we have to find a way in even the most extreme circumstances to practice forgiveness even when it’s inconceivable. Archbishop Desmond Tutu who had as much reason as anyone to harbor hatred and resentment against those who had practiced the most brutal kinds of repression in South Africa, nonetheless understood that repression and hatred are their own prisons from which we need to be freed. He says, Nor does forgiveness mean that we get let off the hook from the consequences of our own wrongdoing. I remember the forgiveness that the Pope offered the man who shot him, and how that young man would know for the rest of his life in prison that the Pope had forgiven him, which is to say that the Pope had given up his own feelings for revenge and resentment and desired only the wellbeing of his attacker’s soul. Closer to home, as it were, I found myself last Thursday reliving the horror of 9/11, thinking again about firemen and policemen rushing into those two buildings in what would become a terrible sacrifice of their lives, in addition to all those who were trapped—men and women of many nationalities and religions, innocent victims of a focused hatred we have yet to fully comprehend. And so the response is a mixture of revenge, vengeance, punishment, perhaps in the name of national security but then the branding of all Muslims as radical fundamentalists, as dangerous, kind of like the incarceration of Japanese-Americans during the Second World War. What is the challenge of forgiveness here? What does this mean to “turn the other cheek” or to forgive 77 times? I won’t answer that because there is no simple answer, but would say that if you and I are going to “try it” there will be some pain and soul-searching and prayer that will lead us to a forgiving stance. So those are my two words this Sunday, and they’re aimed not just at those who are new, but to all of us and to me. The incorporation of faith into our lives can never be measured adequately. It can only be lived and practiced and renewed and shared.
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