The Annual Pilgrimage

Posted by Priest on December 27, 2009 under Sermons |

So, here we are again! Two days after we celebrated the nativity of our Saviour, we gather again as the family of God to worship, to pray, to sing God’s praises, to listen to God’s word and to celebrate the sacred mystery of Christ’s presence in bread and wine. And it is just “us” again. Gone are the crowds from Thursday night. Gone are the many who come here only once or twice a year. Gone are the ones who invade our sanctuary on high holidays. Today, we are left to our own devices: we, the faithful remnants, the dedicated elect, the crème of the crop. And aren’t we special?

I remember a sermon preached by one of my colleagues many years ago. It was shortly after Christmas. He usually was a rather good preacher, but that day I think his frustrations got the better of him (mind you – at the time I did, unfortunately, agree with him). He stepped into the pulpit and opened with similar words as I just did – but he meant it! He congratulated us for being in church and implied we were the “better Christians.”

Better Christians. True Church. Orthodox worshippers. These are terms that make me rather nervous. And they are flung around quite a lot these days. But I do not think the way they are used in our age really is pleasing in God’s sight. Was God really born of an unwed woman and was this divine birth really first announced to shepherds, to outsiders and outcasts who could not attend weekly prayer services, so that we can turn the community of the faithful into an exclusive, hierarchical club again? I don’t think so…

In today’s Gospel story, we hear of religious professionals who are back to normal, too, back to being amongst themselves again. Passover, just like our Christmas, is and has been one of the major holidays in the Jewish calendar. It is the day when Jews celebrate their liberation from the darkness of slavery and oppression, a darkness not unlike the one that is pierced on the first Christmas morning by the Christ-child, who came into the world to liberate us from slavery and oppression, too. Passover is also a day when Jews, even those who consider themselves to be only remotely religious, will partake of the religious festival, will sing hymns, will celebrate a special meal at home, and will attend religious services wherever they can. For God’s people living in the holy land at the time of Jesus this often meant an annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem. And after the service was over, they would return home leaving the religious professionals and the religious insiders to themselves. Sounds familiar, right?

However, today’s story would not be recorded in the Gospels if nothing extraordinary had happened this time. And indeed, something rather extraordinary happened: One within the crowd of annual temple-worshippers had not left, but had stayed behind. He had joined the insiders in the temple.

And this story would not be recorded in the Gospel of Luke, if today’s account was just to confirm the status quo, the ancient traditions. Remember the Gospel according to Luke is the Gospel, which proclaims God’ reign as an upside-down reign, as a reign where the mighty are thrown off their thrones and the lowly are lifted up high . No, Luke must have had some pertinent reasons for including this story in his Gospel, besides sharing a cute Jesus-boyhood event. There must be a theological reason. After all, the Gospels aren’t first and foremost history books, they are theological documents, revealing theological truths, revealing something profound and true about God.

I believe the theological reason for including today’s story in the Gospel is not just to show that Jesus is full of great power from an early age and indeed is the divine wisdom come to earth. But I believe there is another theological reason and this particular theological reason can be discovered by looking at the diametrical difference of the characters who sit together in the temple.

On the one hand, we have the “teachers.” They represent the tradition, the insiders, the crème of the crop – “orthodoxy.” On the other hand, there is Jesus, who is a young boy, not even an adult yet. And these two, the teachers on the one hand and Jesus on the other, are interacting with each other, but not as adults and children would usually interact.

If God had intended to validate the norm, the tradition, the position of the adults, the teachers, this would have been a simple one-way conversation. In fact, Jesus would have probably been told off and sent home. But Jesus engaged the teachers as equals. He asked questions, but he also questioned the teachers and provided answers for them, new answers, divine answers. This must have been a challenge for the crème of the crop. It must have challenged their understandings of God’s self-revelation.

Jesus broke through the walls the insiders had erected around them. He tore down assumptions and presuppositions. He proclaimed good news that would not only liberate the teachers from their own darkness, but that would liberate them also to go out and become messengers of “the Light,” too.

Yes, we are here again today. And, yes, it seems as if we are the core, the centre, those on the in. And on some level, we really are. After all, most us do show up more than once or twice a year, most of us are fairly regular attendees. However, I do not believe that this is a reason to feel all superior about ourselves! We are not better Christians or the crème of the crop. Nor are those who aren’t here today worse or less worthy than we are. This is not how the Gospel operates. Let me just remind you of the parable in which the ones who join in at the last minute are equally rewarded as those who toiled for hours, for years, for decades, for all their lives.

Even though, I have to admit: it can be very frustrating to see packed churches only once a year…!

But this is exactly the challenge for us. Not necessarily to fill our churches, but, just like the teachers in today’s Gospel, to listen to Jesus and move beyond our frustrations, beyond our walls and barriers, beyond our privileges and assumption.

Some might remember that a group from St. Paul’s travelled to San Francisco some 16 months ago. We visited St. Gregory’s of Nyssa Episcopal Church, a rather unusual Christian community in the Anglican Communion. One of the most challenging revelations for me on this trip was how St. Gregory’s defines membership. Membership isn’t about acquiring rights and status within the congregation. Membership at St. Gregory’s, unlike membership in so many other places, does not come with privileges, but it comes with obligations. Everybody who comes to St. Gregory’s is invited to participate fully in the life and ministry of the congregation, member or non-member. If you want to become a member, though, you have to commit publically. You have to commit to following the way of Christ in this particular community by taking up ministry and by taking up responsibilities for others, by putting the message of the Gospel to work in your life and in the life of the world around you. No extra rights, just extra duties.

In a way this understanding of membership is a radical departure from what we are used to: Yet, I believe it is a Lucan understanding, as the mighty are thrown off their privileges, and the lowly are invited to the centre. It is an understanding reflecting the will of God, who in Jesus is born on the margins and who grows up to challenge those on the in: Not to condemn, but in order to pierce the darkness all around, which seeks to consume our hearts and minds and bodies. And that, my friends, is the good news.

So, today, as we are amongst ourselves again, let us not be smug or frustrated. But let us listen to how God breaks through our isolation and how God challenges us, each and every one of us. And let us pray and discern how we can commit to ministry – and how we can commit to all those who bless us with their presence on Christmas.

[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on December 27, 2009.]