January 26, 2014

            Once upon a time, there was a portion of seacoast known for its fierce waves and hidden boulders.  It was a beautiful, but dangerous beach and on the sand dunes was built a primitive little life guard station, a place for those who ventured out into the surf to save others, to stay between rescue calls.  The volunteers who staffed the station were a dedicated bunch who faithfully went out in their small lifeboat whenever necessary to save those in need.   Over time, this life guard station developed a good reputation.   Those whose lives had been saved as well as the community which benefitted from the efforts of the life guards, were all very appreciative and began to offer their time and money so that before long, the life-saving station began to grow.

          Some of the members were unhappy with the state of the simple lifeguard station.   The needs were growing over time, and the resources were there to upgrade.   And so, the emergency cots were replaced with sturdy hospital beds.   The building was expanded, better furniture placed throughout.   More people began to spend time there, both when there were on duty and when they were off, and there were plenty of volunteers willing to help.  A spirit of community was rich among those there and eventually, the station became the site for frequent social gatherings.  Resources and volunteers grew in quantities that enabled the station to hire outside crews to do the necessary and risky work.

          One night, a great storm hit and a large ship was in great danger on the rocks.   The life-saving crews brought in more people than ever before to assist in the rescues.   And it was diverse group in need.   A group of many colors, most of whom were dirty, sick and terrified.   Every available space was put to use, including the offices and lounges.   The beautiful new life guard station was in chaos and a physical wreck.   At the next meeting of the property committee, a decision was made to build an outside shower house so that those rescued could be cleaned up before being brought into the life-saving station.

          At the next annual meeting, a split developed in the membership.   Many wanted to stop the life-saving activities altogether, since it had become so demanding and a hindrance to the social life of the group who gathered there.   Their spirit of community was constantly being disrupted.   Others declared that the group needed to recall their primary purpose—to save lives.  But they were voted down and forced out.

          They traveled down the road and built a new, primitive life-saving station.   They did the job they were committed to doing, and over time, increasing numbers of persons came to support them.   They grew in number and built a new station, with polished floors and new furniture, and over time, repeatedly made among themselves the same decisions that had once so greatly impacted them.   Another split occurred, another station was build a half-mile down the beach.   History repeated itself many times over the years to com.  And if you visit that beach area now, you will find a number of exclusive clubs built along the shoreline.   Shipwrecks still occur from time to time, nowhere near as often as they once did, but when they occur, they frequently lead to great numbers of fatalities, since there is no one left who will bother to rescue those in need.   (Clinebell, Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling, pp. 13-14, adapted)

          It’s a rich parable, one that I think serves the purpose of parables, which is to get us thinking.  This parable always comes to mind when I drive along those streets where church after church after church are lined up.   All in a row, with one thing in common-Jesus Christ, as well as all the other things that divide them.

          Differences of opinion have been a fact of life for the church since the very beginning.   Today, we hear Paul’s words of warning and concern, addressed to the first century church in Corinth, over the matters that were at work there, leading to division.   At that time, those in the church in Corinth shared a belief that the person who had baptized you was the one to whom you owed your greatest allegiance, the one who you might even dare to call your Savior.   And so, among the members there, instead of being one body, baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, they were a splintered group, each claiming allegiance to the person who had baptized them—Apollos, Cephas and Paul, among others.   Paul writes his letter, one of his first epistles to them, and begins his teaching by seeking to correct this and encouraging them to find their unity in Jesus Christ.

          This tendency, to embrace and hold strong, sometimes invisible, sometimes unconscious, allegiances to spiritual leaders, is alive and well in our lives and in our churches today.  It’s a dynamic found not just in churches, but in so many other parts of our daily lives.

          Many years ago, and many towns away from Hamden, back when I was exploring the possibility of working exclusively as a pastoral counselor, I remember one afternoon, finishing up a session with a client of mine.     Our time had concluded and as I walked her to the door, somehow, the topic of dinner came up and she remarked that since it was Thursday, she was going home to prepare meat loaf.

          “Oh, is that a routine?,” I asked.   “Yes, every Thursday night we have meatloaf.”  “You must like meat loaf.”   “No, not really,”  “Oh I see, do you children like meat loaf?”  “No, not really.”   “Well then, why do you have it every Thursday night?”  “Oh, my ex-husband loved meat loaf and we got into the routine of having it on Thursdays.”  

          As I reached for the door and slowly opened it, I asked, “Remind me, how long has it been since your divorce?”  “Three years” was her response.   In a way, more work was done in those thirty seconds than in the previous fifty minutes.

          “Invisible loyalties” are those special connections that bind us with the past, many times in ways in which we are unaware, oftentimes in irrational ways.  They are often deeply rooted and can be strongly embraced.  I grew up in a family where, for whatever reason I’ll never know, my father did not like Lucille Ball.  As a result, to this day, I’ve never watched a complete episode of one of the all-time great TV comedies, “I Love Lucy.”   As I say, these can be fairly minimal loyalties, that don’t greatly impact one’s life, but not always.   Invisible loyalties are those dynamics that can often prevent us from finding our own voice, following our own course, hearing our own call.

          For the first century church, the young believers were in some level of ongoing conflict, with the sides being decided, not by the logic or faith, but by a spiritual loyalty to the one who had baptized each believer and brought him or her into the church.   And these invisible loyalties were leading to church division.  And in today’s lesson, Paul is planting the seeds, laying the groundwork for the message we seen woven throughout his epistles.   There is one Lord, one Savior, one in whose name we are baptized and to whom we belong—Jesus Christ. 

          In today’s gospel lesson, we hear of the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, coming in the days which followed his discernment time in the wilderness.   Seeing some fishermen casting their nets into the sea, he calls to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men and women.” 

          “Follow me.”   One of the prophetic voices of our generation, the Right Rev Gene Robinson, former bishop of New Hampshire, has said, on more than one occasion, “Jesus is looking for followers, not admirers.   He’s got plenty of admirers.   He wants more followers.”   I think that’s an important distinction to make and one worth wrestling with and making peace with in our own journeys.  

          In a few minutes, just after worship today, we’ll gather for our annual meeting.   A time to take note of all that has gone in the past year as well as make a statement of faith about the year to come.   For when we approve the budget, we are making a bold statement of faith together, committing ourselves to a course and a shared future.  

          Let us be mindful of the many invisible loyalties, alive and well in our midst today.   Let us honor the vision and sacrifice of former pastors and church leaders.   May these serve as the building blocks for our new shared vision for the year to come.   Where they are helpful and nurture community, let us build on them.   Where they may serve as deterrents from what might be here, let us move on.  May we be mindful of and open to new voices and ideas, calling us to find our oneness in Jesus Christ, that together we might follow in faith.

One of the great sages in Hasidic literature was Rabbi Zusya of Anipol, who lived in eastern Europe in the 18^th century.   The story is told that as Rabbi Zusya was growing older and realizing his days on the earth were dwindling, he became more agitated each day.   Those who were caring for him, who had learned so much from him, asked him, “Master, you have lived such a rich and good life.  Surely God will reward you for it.   Why do you seem to tremble at the thought of dying?”   And Rabbi Zusya answered, “When I stand before God, should God say to me, Zusya, why weren’t you another Moses? I will answer God.  I will say, Master of the Universe, You did not grant me the greatness of soul that you granted Moses.   Should God ask me, Zusya, why were you not another King Solomon? I will answer, “Because You did not bless me with the wisdom to be another King Solomon.   But alas, what will I say to God if God asks me, Zusya, why were you not Zusya?   Why were you not the person I gave you the ability to be?”  

May this day be the first day in which we move into being the church that today we have the possibility of becoming.   Let us be from this time forth, not just admirers, but followers of the one in whom we ground our faith and have our greatest hope.   For all around us, shipwrecks still occur and opportunities abound for us to save, nurture, guide and bless the lives of all of God’s children.   Thanks be to God.   Amen.