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Sunday, October 7, 2007

Habakkuk 1: 1-4, 2: 1-4
Psalm 37: 1-11
2 Timothy 1:1-14

Luke 17: 5-10

On this particular Worldwide Communion Sunday, I would like to begin with what might seem like a rather bold, but I think an accurate statement.

That is, that this world is an infinitely better place because of the Church of Jesus Christ.

Now we all have heard the critics, who are quick to disparage the Church when such statements are made. Whenever someone says anything positive about the Church, you can almost predict that someone else will be quick to mention the Crusades, or the Inquisition, or the treatment of native peoples, or the times of resistance to scientific progress. Even we who are a part of the church are sometimes hesitant in expressing our love for the Church, for fear that we will be branded as some form of religious fanatic.

But I think that we need to better honour and celebrate the contributions that the church has made to our world, even as we acknowledge its mistakes and failures. A number of years ago, in the congregation that I formerly served, there was a history professor from St. Francis Xavier University in Nova Scotia, who was on a year-long sabbatical in Toronto. As well as worshipping with us on Sundays, he regularly participated in one of the evening Bible study groups. On many occasions, he commented to me how troubled that he was that modern Christians did not realize the beneficial impact that the Church has had on the culture in which we live, and how he hoped that modern Christians could learn a bit more – and have a bit more respect – for their own history.

I have often thought about the wisdom of his words. The Church has made an incomparable contribution to our world. Many, if not most, universities and hospitals were established by churches. Our culture’s greatest works of art, of music, of poetry and of literature -- from Michelangelo, to Bach, to Shakespeare, to Dickens, to the Dave Matthews Band – all are infused with references to the Bible and to Christ. The most progressive movements for social change have been influenced by people of faith – from the movement to abolish the slave trade in the time of William Wilberforce; to some of the most significant figures in the early days of the women’s rights movement; to the movement for racial equality in the time of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King; to the modern movement to address the unequal distribution of the earth’s resources; people of faith have been at the forefront of those important movements.

And this is equally true of our own nation. Many of Canada’s most cherished principles, from social assistance for the disadvantaged, to health care for all, to a tolerance for diversity, were originally envisioned in accordance with the demands of faith. I found it rather intriguing, last year, when the CBC, which does not tend to be particularly positive towards the church and organized religion, designated Tommy Douglas as the greatest Canadian. The CBC only made passing references to the fact that Douglas was an ordained Christian minister – even though it was his Christian principles and his participation in the Church which shaped his passion for justice, to say nothing of being the place where he first developed his famed oratorical abilities. It was still interesting to realize that the CBC’s “Greatest Canadian” was a Christian preacher before he was a legendary politician.

But it is not only such celebrated individuals who have made a difference. Communities of people, drawn together by their faith, have exerted tremendous influence for the good of our world. This very congregation has a noble history of service. Anyone who doubts this should go to the church website and listen to, or read, the speech that was presented by Brian Stewart, a few years ago, at this congregation’s anniversary dinner. The speech offers clear evidence of the fact that this congregation – as well as being a place of prayer and worship – has been an active presence in some of the most pressing issues of our city and our world. From raising money, as early as 1851, to help those affected by a famine in India; to establishing training facilities to combat illiteracy, and a penny savings bank to help the poor to save money; to challenging the various levels of injustice and deprivation in the tenements and slums of Toronto, including the scourge of child prostitution and sweat-shop practices on the streets of this city, this congregation has done remarkable things.

But such examples of active service are not just a thing of the past. From the modern Out of the Cold programme, to the Boarding Homes ministries, to the compassionate outreach of our parish nurse, to the offering of a place for prayer, for communion and for contemplation in the midst of the busyness of downtown life, to all of the various ways that this congregation seeks to reach out to others with the love of Christ, that noble legacy of service lives on.

And there is nothing particularly unique about this congregation. As we sit here, today, followers of Jesus throughout the world are feeding the hungry; comforting the sick and the dying; advocating for the vulnerable and the abused; and doing these and countless other compassionate acts with no desire for glory for themselves. I, for one, find it both inspiring and humbling to be part of this incredible worldwide community called the Church of Jesus Christ.

But what type of response do we expect, as Christians, for that work? Should we expect the doubters, the skeptics and critics – or society in general – to sit up and notice all of the good that is done by the Church? Do we long for the church to regain some perceived golden age of prestige, preference or power in society as some form of recognition for the church’s historic and continuing role in society? Do we expect the world to thank us?

Today’s Gospel reading offers a rather different perspective on the response that should be expected by those who seek to serve Christ. After a lovely reminder that faith was not a quantifiable commodity, Jesus asked his disciples a question. “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’?

As the passage unfolds, Jesus’ words undergo a fascinating shift in relation to the identity of the characters in the story. His first question places his hearers in the position of the master. How would they treat their servants? But by the time that Jesus gets to the end of his story, those to whom he is addressing his words are addressed as servants rather than as masters. “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’

They are challenging words. Christ was telling his followers that they were to do what they were supposed to do, neither expecting nor seeking glory or gratitude. Servants should not expect great adulation when they serve – when they do what ought to be done.

Ignatius of Loyola, who was the founder of the Society of Jesus, or the Jesuits, once wrote a beautiful prayer that articulates this desire to serve without seeking glory. He wrote,

But a question presents itself to us. What is it that Christ’s servants were supposed to do in this world? What is the work that we are called to do without seeking glory or adulation?

And the answer? We are called to seek the kingdom of God; we are called to allow our lives to be used to the glory of God and in the service of others; we are called to participate in the redemption, the transformation and the reconciliation of this world to God.

And, even in spite of the mistakes that have been made, Christ’s followers have done a fairly remarkable job. What started with one man hanging out with twelve of his friends has now become a global community which, it might be argued, is the single greatest movement for compassion, for justice, for peace and for goodness in human history.

Such a claim need not be understood in some triumphalistic or arrogant sense. Such a claim should not increase our pride, but rather our gratitude. Gratitude for the ways that Christ’s ministry has continued throughout human history; gratitude for the ways that our lives have been blessed by the community of the Church; gratitude for the invitation that is extended to each one of us to be a part of this worldwide community of the Spirit; gratitude for the invitation to do our part, in our time, to work towards the day when this world will be a place fit for God; gratitude for that great good news that the kingdom of God has come, is coming and will come in fullness when heaven and earth are one.

And it is that very spirit of gratitude that leads us, together, to this Table. On this Thanksgiving Sunday, it is good to ponder the fact that one of the most common words for communion is the word ‘Eucharist’. Although we have not tended, in the Presbyterian tradition, to use that word very often, it is a very appropriate world.

The word ‘Eucharist’ is drawn from a Greek word which means ‘thanksgiving’, and is closely tied to one of the most important roles that we are called to play, as a servant community in this world.

After all, and in spite of the Church’s noble history of active service in this world, we are not, as Christians, called to be merely busy social activists. Being busy is not the way to the fullness of the Christian life.

Rather, in addition to acts of compassion and service, at the center of our lives is the call to worship, to prayer, to communion with God, and to the expression of thanksgiving for all that God has done.

And this thanksgiving, this Eucharistic spirituality, is also a part of our service in this world. For the past two thousand years, the Church has not only been busy. It has also been thankful. It has continued to celebrate the eucharist, and in so doing has continued to return thanks, to God, on behalf of all creation, for all that God has done. We give thanks for creation in all its wonder; we remember and give thanks for the gift of Jesus Christ; we give thanks for the continuing presence and power of the Holy Spirit; we give thanks for the promises of God yet to be fulfilled. As a priesthood of believers, we give thanks on behalf of all of God’s creation.

And so, both in our active lives of service, and in our moments of grateful worship, we fulfill our calling to be the servants of Christ without desire for glory or adulation. We are simply seeking to do what we have been called to do – to be a grateful, active servant community without seeking anything in return, except for that of knowing that we do the will of the One who loves us and gave his life for us.

“The Servant Community”