Sermon: “We Are United…”

My grandmother is a sweet, cantankerous, opinionated and devout Southern Baptist woman, who has, for the whole of my life, graciously given me the “benefit” of her advice and impressions on the world. Which I have always appreciated and cherished, not so much because her perceptions were meritorious in their objectivity and detachment, but because they told me a lot more about her than they did the world.

 

One of her favorite subjects has always been the state of her local church, which, according to her,s has usually been a sad one. She is forever lambasting the preacher, or the lay leadership, or other people I have never met. One of her favorite screes is, “Satan is out to get our church, John! Whenever we take one step forward, Satan takes us two steps back!”

 

Now, those of you who know me know I’m not big on the concept of a “personal devil.” I don’t think there’s a being with an independent existence and will who is out to thwart God’s plans, and who takes personal interest in subverting the little things I myself am involved in.

 

I am, instead, much more inclined to favor the notion of Satan as the personification of our collective shadows, those parts of ourselves that we cannot accept, and so in order to see them at all, we must see them in others, even, in  the case of Satan, a fictional other. 

 

Now, to some degree all others are fictional–I do not really see you, any more than you really see me. What I see is my projection of who you are. I see the outline of your form, but I interpret the essence of who you are based on my own experiences and opinions of you, which may or may not be in any way accurate. 

 

And when it is not accurate, especially when I ascribe all kinds of negative things to you, well, only trouble can result. It can indeed seem like Satan is out to get you.

 

This is exactly the sort of situation Paul was facing when he wrote his letter to the Corinthians. The fledgling church at Corinth was an active, vibrant, exciting place to be. But it was also a community wracked by divisions. It had rich people who flaunted their wealth in the faces of the poor, and refused to assist those less well off then they. It had people who were envious of others in positions of responsibility, and tons and tons of squabbling. There were no fewer than four warring factions within the church, and every faction was  writing  to Paul, begging him to take their side of things and chastise the others. 

 

Paul, of course, let them all have it. In our reading today he reminded everyone in the church how much they need each other. He tells them how silly it is to try to drive away people just because they disagree with you. It’s like the eye saying to the hand, “I don’t need you!” When, of course, it does.

 

Meditating on this reading has been particularly poignant for me this week, as I am ruminating on our life together as a parish now that Richard has withdrawn to the Abbey, and we are, for the first time, “on our own” so to speak, without his leadership and guidance. 

 

I feel that we are all more than adequate to the task, but I also feel like this, like all times of transition, is a vulnerable time for us. If ever Satan were going to come in and upset things, this would be a good time. But instead of projecting the responsibility onto some fictional bogeyman, I’d like to ask us to be careful and take responsibility for our own projections. 

 

This is the first week that we will be talking about our parish covenant. The first line, which is the subject of this sermon, is “We are united.” 

 

Now that’s a bold statement. “We are united.” And this, of course, begs the question, are we? Nothing can kill a church faster than division, and unity is an ideal that is worth striving for. 

 

What causes division? In my experience, division starts when we don’t give each other the benefit of a doubt. Look, we are all a collection of complicated, and often wounded people–I know I am. But I also firmly belive that nobody comes here because they are evil. On the contrary, I firmly believe everyone who is here comes here because they are, at their very core, good people who are trying, with everything that is in them, to be better people. That is my starting point when I consider each and every one of you. I know, and I trust, that every one of us is here because they want to do good in the world, and we have discovered that we can do MORE good in the world together than we can separately. 

 

Division in the church happens when we lose sight of this very basic assumption. As soon as we decide that someone is intent upon doing evil, whether large or small, the cracks start appearing in our unity. And the moment we start to share those opinions with others, those ideas spread, and the dam breaks, and then it’s all over except for the cleanup crew. 

 

Now, I’m not saying that any of us is perfect. What I AM  saying is that none of us are evil. We live out our unity in a most imperfect way. We all make mistakes, we all see things through the distortion of our own lenses, we all feel wounded and act out of our woundedness. And it’s when we feel wounded that we hurt each other–not because we want to but because sometimes we just can’t help it. 

 

And that is precisely why we covenant together. A covenant is not a contract. A contract is a legal agreement, and if one party breaks the agreement, then the contract is null and void. But a covenant is a very different animal indeed. If I make a covenant with you, I am committing to uphold my end of the agreement, even when you don’t, or can’t, until such time as you can do your part again.

 

A marriage is a covenant. A marriage isn’t over until both parties say it’s over. If one party is unfaithful, the other party holds it together until the first one wises up. 

 

 

All of us are unfaithful to our covenants in one way or another. As I said, we live out our commitments imperfectly, because we are human. But part of my covenant with you is that when it seems to be that you are being a complete nincompoop, I am going to keep loving you and supporting you until you wise up and come around so that you can do the same for me. THIS is unity. THIS is the ideal that we aspire to. THIS is the unity that Paul and the Gospel calls us to. This is the unity we profess together when we recite our covenant. 

 

I need you. And I trust that you need me as well. There is not one expendable person within these walls. We are strong because of our differences, our diversity, in our culture, our affections, and our opinions. 

 

We have some rocky waters ahead of us, my friends. And we are going to weather this journey much better if we can support and love each other through it. We will do a much better job of that if we can own our own projections, keep the gossip to a minimum, and most of all, give each other the benefit of a doubt. Holding each other in love means assuming that we are each intending to do good, and are pursuing that to the very best of our ability. If you fall short of that, I promise you, I will carry you until you can do better. And I trust that you will do the same for me. Let us pray…

 

Holy an loving God,

You call us to be a holy people,

and you bid us be one, 

even as you and Jesus are one.

Protect us from division,

help us to see the best in one another,

and help us to hold and help each other when we fail.

Send your Holy Spirit upon us in this season of Pentecost,

to make us one, 

and to witness to your power 

in our midst and in the world.

For we ask this in the Spirit of the Living Christ, Amen.