Sermons

Open Hearts

John Wilkinson                            Third Presbyterian Church
May 13, 2007                     Acts 16:9-15

This past Wednesday, the Board of Deacons hosted a lovely tea at the Highlands in Pittsford, where many Third Church members reside. Several times a year the Deacons do this – at the Highlands, at Cloverwood and at Valley Manor, so that we can stay a bit more connected with one another. In the course of the gathering, I remarked that rather than Christmas and Easter being the busiest times in the church year, that the months of October and May hold that distinction. And such seems to be the case. The month of May at Third Church represents a wonderful quality of heightened activity and the culmination of the program year.

Today is our traditional day to recognize all those who give so much of themselves to our worship, music and arts programs and ministry. The names are listed in the bulletin, but like any such list, the names can only represent a fraction of the commitment and sense of shared gifts that we all experience Sunday after Sunday and at so many other times during the year. Worship is at the heart of all that we do and are, and worship here in this place would not be what it is without so many sharing so much. And finally, it would seem always to be in order to recognize and share our appreciation for those who lead us – Jeanne Fisher, Ruth Draper, Chris Lenti and Peter DuBois…

It is also Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day is not a liturgical day, we should remember. But we are invited to give thanks for every good gift, and so we remember mothers and grandmothers and step-mothers and surrogate mothers and all those who have mothered us in any way. We remember as well in the context of this community of faith that for some, this day is not a fully happy one, either because of difficult memories and experiences or for the quest of parenthood yet unfulfilled. We are the family of Christ and the household of God – that is our primary relationship and connection, so we seek to be in solidarity in every way with every member of this community. And so we are.

In that light, finally, I would draw your attention to the Homes Offering. For decades, the Rochester Presbyterian Home, Valley Manor and Kirkhaven have been vitally important to our community, providing care and compassion for many. Many, many Third Church members have resided at all three facilities, as they do now. And for that same amount of time, this congregation has been supporting these important institutions – as staff members, as board members, as community volunteers. We all understand that what Kirkhaven, Valley Manor and the Presbyterian Home offer is increasingly important to the lives of those we love and this community – today’s offering is a small way for us to express our gratitude and demonstrate our support. Envelopes are located in the red friendship pads. Give generously as you are able.

***

The so-called “troubles” in Northern Ireland – the clash between Protestants and Catholics – have been going on as long as I have been alive and decades more. Like conflict in the Middle East, one has simply presumed that this conflict would go on forever.

I have visited Northern Ireland two times in my life. I will never forget those trips: the beauty of the country itself and the loveliness of the people. I will also never forget seeing tanks moving through the streets of Belfast, and meeting with families – Protestant and Catholic – who had lost loved ones, mostly young men, in the conflict. Perpetual violence seemed unavoidable; a solution to warfare seemed impossible.

And so it struck me this week as a near miracle and an extraordinary achievement when Tony Blair – the same Tony Blair who would announce his resignation a day or two later – gathered with once-sworn enemies Ian Paisley and Gerry Adams to open a new Northern Ireland parliament. Guns had been laid down. The past, though not forgotten, was now the past, and not the future. The unimaginable was now unfolding before our eyes.

It will not be easy, this somewhat uneasy alliance. But it is the right thing. And it happened only because after many, many years of diplomacy, negotiation, senseless loss, that leaders had a change of mind, and more so, a change of heart, that made a new reality in Northern Ireland possible.

I pray every day that such a change could happen in the Middle East, or in this country, where all kinds of factionalism and brokenness prevent true peace. I pray every day that such a change could happen in the Presbyterian Church, though even now many congregations are considering leaving for a new denomination, and some have made that decision.

It is perhaps the most fundamental question of our faith: after Easter, what now? What difference will the good news of resurrection make to us, in our own lives, in the life of the world? What difference will it make? Just as religion played a negative role in the perpetuation of the Northern Ireland “troubles,” so it ultimately played a positive role in the solution. How can that happen…for us, and for the world in which we live?

The book of Acts attempts to answer that question, sharing the story of that post-Easter church:

* We witness the day of Pentecost and the ministry of Peter.
* We witness the development of that early community, a community marked by an unprecedented commitment to sharing and the common good of every member.
* We witness countless arrests and imprisonments and martyrdom. We witness the conversion of Paul, with many conversions to follow.
* We witness concerns about enough food to eat, enough money to pay the bills, debates over who is in and who is out.

That is to say, Acts could have been written this very morning. It is our story, then and now.

We read this morning of a missionary trip taken by Paul and Timothy. On this trip they ended up in Philippi, one of the many towns along the way where Paul planted churches and with whom he would later be in correspondence, letters that form the bulk of our New Testament. This is all so important to us, not only because history matters, but because it is so contemporary and timely.

Philippi seemed like a good place for Paul and Timothy to remain. We don’t know if they engaged in a feasibility study or formed a strategic planning committee or commissioned a marketing survey, but in Philippi they remained for a bit, because God told them to.

On the Sabbath day, they looked for a place to worship, and found one, and began to visit with the women gathered there. A simple conversation ensued with a woman named Lydia. We don’t know what happened. No YouTube to record it and post it on the Internet.

Some conversions are grand and dramatic while others are simple and low-key. This one seemed to be the second variety, but we do learn that God opened her heart to listen to Paul, which is dramatic enough. She was baptized, and her household as well – meaning probably her family and workers – and she became a faithful follower and leader in the early church. But such would not be the case were it not for the spirit of God working in her heart, working in the ministry of Timothy and Paul, working to open what once had been closed.

Some scholars emphasize that this is the first convert to Christianity on European soil. Others emphasize the fact that it was a woman who first heard Paul’s message and responded. Both are worth pursuing – the nature of the conversation and the identity of the recipient.

Much is being made right now of the reverse nature of missionary needs, that people of faith from other countries, once the subjects of American missionary activity, are coming to America, where such zeal is said to be lacking. That may be.

And God knows how much we have wrestled, and are wrestling, with the important questions of who God is calling and to whom God is imparting gifts. Both are important themes and pivotal backdrops to Paul’s primary activity... taking the story to unlikely places, sharing it with unlikely people, and having it make an unlikely difference.

Anne Lamott tells a poignant story in her new book Grace (Eventually). It is a hard story about a hard fight with her son. The fight left her “wondering whether anyone in history had been a worse parent or raised such a horrible child.” (Page 187 and ff) “I’ve loved him so much,” she writes, “and given him so much more than I’ve given anyone else, and I’ll tell you, a fat lot of good it does these days.”

Following the fight, Lamott drives away in tears. “I wept at the wheel on a busy boulevard. At first people were looking at me as they passed in the next lane. I wiped my face…Then I noticed the people were dropping back. Eventually there were no cars in my vicinity. I felt like O.J. in his Bronco on that famous ride. I started calling out to God, ‘Help me! Help me! I’m calling on you! I hate myself! I hate my son!’” And God responds. “Go home already, and deal with it.”

She called a friend, a priest. “What should I do?” “Call the White House and volunteer him for the National Guard.” “Anything else?” “Let the hard feelings pass. Ask for help. See if you can forgive each other a little, just for today. We can’t forgive: that’s the work of the Spirit. We’re too damaged. But we can be willing. And in the meantime, try not to break his fingers.”

On a busy day, in a busy month, in a gathering of busy people living in a busy world, the question is really this one: what happens when we come to the river to pray, and encounter the spirit of the risen Christ? How does that sprit open our otherwise hard heart and speak a good word, a life-giving word, so that a difference is made in our heart and so that we may make a difference in the heart of the world?

Whether we are a Northern Ireland politician, a woman struggling so hard with the prospect of parenting, or any one of us facing any one of a million conflicts, little and big, how do we call out for God and how do we listen to what God has to say?

I do not know for sure. But I do know this. Worship, what we celebrate this day, is never so much about the articulate nature of a prayer or a sermon, the beauty of the stained glass windows, majestic choral harmonies or resounding organ notes, as important as those are, and as faithfully as we seek to attend to them.. Rather, worship is about gathering – in our tradition, alone every once in a while but more so with other fellow travelers – and opening our hearts and talking to God and listening for what God might have to say to us.

And I do know this, that from the beginnings of the story to this very moment, God has been about openness, open hands, open minds, open hearts, about doing a new thing, so that we can make peace with our enemies and peace with our own spirits.

May our worship – in spirit and in truth – reflect such a vision, and may every breath and every act be as an “alleluia,” all to the glory of almighty God. Amen.