Clinging to the Ledge
August 29, 2004 (Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost -- Proper 17)
By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean
- Ecclesiasticus 10:7-18
- Psalm 112
- Hebrews 13:1-8
- Luke 14:1,7-14
(From The Lectionary Page)
Back in May, a piece of mail came to our old address of 411 Laurel Ave, Highland Park, IL. It was a letter from the Cathedral office and it was addressed to The Very Reverend Terry A. White. The first piece of mail so addressed. I found it relatively easy to fight the temptation to frame it like the first dollar bill a new business earns, but I did get a kick out of showing the envelope to the family.
Rebekah thought it was the funniest thing. After hearing the explanation about the formal title a cathedral dean has, she asked, “Does this mean that they will call you ‘Very Father’?” And before I could respond, all of my beloved family, my biggest supporters, discussed at length what I should now be called. They settled on this new name: “Very Terry.” And I have a feeling that it just might stick!
Today, five lives get a new name. Ethan, Tyler, Madeleine, Jane and Ryan are named “Christian,” one who professes Christ and is marked as Christ’s own forever.
Our lessons are ideal for baptism, reminding us all of both the depth of God’s grace given to us, and the opportunities we have to live out our baptismal covenant.
Let me tell you about Miguel, who woke up troubled one morning. He had not slept well due to a particularly vivid dream. In the dream he was making his way across the face of a cliff by way of a narrow ledge, hugging the wall with great care and determination. He never looked up or down or sideways. It took all his concentration to find the next finger-hold. Yet as hard as it was, he took great pride in his skill as a ledge-walker.
Just fifteen feet below, his wife was walking in a lush meadow calling to him, "Miguel! It's much easier down here. You don't need to struggle. Drop down and walk with me.” He never could. As restrictive as the ledge was, it was more comforting to Miguel than the unknown meadow below. So, he just kept inching his way along.
In his dream, Miguel was afraid, and that fear prevented him from experiencing anything new, and his fear also isolated him. He settled for inching along, alone. Miguel’s issues are easy to identify.
What is not always so easy to admit to is what prevents you and I as individuals, and together as the Church, from taking new routes, and embracing a new vision. We heavily invest in inching along, creating an illusion that we are in control, when in fact, it is fear which controls us and isolates from the God we love, those we hold most dear, and the world we so desperately want to serve.
In today's lesson from Ecclesiasticus, we hear, "The beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from its Maker." This suggests that unhealthy pride it is rooted in an unwillingness to trust God. Unhealthy pride blurs our vision, directing it inward. Pride causes us to spend inordinate amounts of energy hiding our brokenness, and we refuse to admit our need for healing, and our need for God.
In today's gospel lesson Jesus says that we are fooling ourselves if we think that we are in control of life through our own efforts. The parable of the feast extols the virtues of humility and hospitality.
Hospitality is not a transaction or a calculated investment with an anticipated return. It has nothing to do with improving one's status or enticing someone into some kind of commitment. Hospitality is by definition, an unconditional gesture, offered in love, with no obligations attached. As soon as our hospitality is intended for a particular person or population at the exclusion of others, it is no longer authentic. It is, instead, a performance or a transaction. Offering authentic hospitably is difficult. It is risky because you do not know the outcome, and you will attract the outcasts.
Authentic hospitality requires a willingness on our part to enter into relationships and events in which we do not control the outcome. It means using our energy and money to create an environment where anyone, no matter how marginalized or offensive, is incorporated into our lives and the life of our parish. This is the work of baptized people, and the Servant Church we were created to be.
A final story: Maria's family belonged to a prestigious Los Angeles tennis club. And this girl loved to play tennis, she lived to play. Every free moment, and too often time she was supposed to be doing something else, was spent on the court.
The athletic teen learned quickly, however, that it was a terrible thing at her club to be seen playing tennis with someone less accomplished than you. This explained why the courts often stood empty with potential players hanging out in the clubhouse. They were all waiting for a better player to ask them to play, the result being, nobody played.
Frustrated by this behavior, Maria started going to the public courts in the local park. The contrast was profound. The courts were always full. In fact, there was a waiting line. Players were eager to play with anyone for fun, exercise, and practice. The camaraderie was sincere, the laughter audible, the mistakes honest. And Maria never knew exactly what would happen.
May our parish be such a public court, where all are not only welcome, but also sought out. Where every life is seen first and foremost as a gift of God, to be honored and revered, constantly in need of healing and strengthening, and worthy of being incorporated into this family of faith. Together, let us leave the well-known ledge where we get so used to inching along, and choose instead to travel through the meadow, where the grass is lush and we can run in every direction, free of the restrictions we have created for ourselves.
Let us watch closely as these five come to the waters of new life. Let us be refreshed by their trust that God is in control. Together, what awaits us may just blow our minds. You can trust me, for after all, I am “Very Terry!”
(Reworked from Sermons that Work, Proper 17 Year C, 2001, no author listed.)