In May of 2021, Nicky and I were touring through Hull for the Annual Stem to Stern Yard Sale. We are collectors and sometimes sellers of vintage and antique items, and we thought a town-wide yard sale was an excellent opportunity to stock up on some of our favorites. We stopped in front of this little white Church in the Village to check the map for our next location, and I remember thinking, this is Methodist appointment season; I wonder if the Church is available.
That past March, I completed an interim pastorate in Beverly, and I decided to take some time away from the pulpit to reflect on the future. I started there on March 15, 2020, which, if you recall your history, was the first Sunday we were not allowed to gather for worship. We would spend the next year ministering to that congregation via this new-fangled thing called Zoom. We had only met the congregation once, and apart from one or two parking lot services that summer, everything was either virtual or pre-recorded. Needless to say, it took a lot out of us.
Later that same day in May, I sent a couple of emails to a few minister friends in the UMC, asking what one would need to do to be appointed. It all begins, they told me, with a letter to the District Superintendent. So, I fired off an email, and before long, I was sitting in Gould Hall meeting some of the folx from what was going to become my new congregation. That was August of 2021.
As I mentioned, I arrived at a time of extreme burnout from COVID-19 ministry. While I was at the Church in Beverly, I was also called to active duty with the Army to support the COVID mission here in Massachusetts. I would spend most of April and May 2020 traveling to Boston, the Holyoke Soldiers Home, the Tewksbury State Hospital, as well as other sites around the Commonwealth, supporting our soldiers and airmen as best as we could. Sometimes, we would hold four services on Sunday, and I would also pre-record my regular church service. O, and we had a newborn who joined our family in April 2020!
I became your pastor at a time of great upheaval in my life. I was unsure if I wanted to be a pastor anymore, but I felt God calling me to this place, a beacon of hope in the Village. I was unsure of myself and uncertain about the Methodist way of doing things, but you took me in and gave me a home.
Our time together began as most pastorates began rocky. I was trying to get to know you, and you were trying to get to know me. I have learned, through nearly 21 years of experience, that you cannot have many, if any, expectations of a congregation, and this was especially true after the COVID pandemic. The Church rebuilt itself during the COVID-19 pandemic, which I think is a good thing. We realized we did not need buildings and all the trappings of the institutional Church to minister to people in need. We became nimble, we thought quickly on our feet, and we adapted to all sorts of things. We figured it all out with very little support from anyone higher up in the food chain.
However, ministry is now different, and we must once again learn to adapt.
On my first Sunday here, I did not preach. Because your previous minister had abruptly left, you had to adapt and think on your feet. You established a Rota of lay folk who would preach, and on that first Sunday in August of 2021, someone else was scheduled. That Sunday, I provided for you what only an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament can provide; I stood behind that small table, I asked the Holy Spirit to bless the bread and the cup, and I offered the spiritual food that we all need. We brought our broken and weary bodies to this table laid out before us, and here, we found rest.
I recall how I trembled, as I do each time I take those sacred elements in my hands and raise them before you and proclaim, “the gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts with faith and with love.”
To me, this is no mere reenactment or symbol; this is the body of Christ. We ask the Holy Spirit to come and change not only these elements but us. We invite Jesus into our lives and ask that he change our hearts of stone to hearts of flesh. We come forward willingly and take and eat. We do not do this because we are worthy or as some reward for being good. No, we come because we are broken; we are bone weary from everything the world throws at us, and we come to find rest and nourishment. My friends, this is no mere symbol; this is life.
As many of you are aware, I was not ordained into the Methodist tradition; instead, I was ordained in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition. One of the reasons I walked away from the Church that called me to ordained ministry was because communion was not available to everyone. You had to belong to the club, you had to have your membership card, and you had to perform certain rituals to be found worthy to take and eat. But one day, while meditating on this idea of communion, I recalled the events of the Last Supper. You know the story. They were all gathered in that Upper Room, all conveniently sitting on one side of the table so DaVinci could capture the moment on canvas. But there were all there, all but one; John would abandon him when he needed them the most. Peter was there, the one who would deny him not once but three times. And Judas, poor Judas, he was right there, sitting with the rest. And this is what did it for me: Jesus, knowing what Judas was going to do, looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Take, this is my body given for you.’ Jesus provided communion, the bread of life, to the very man who was about to betray him. If Jesus can do that, who are we to tell anyone they cannot come?
All of you here today are welcome to join us at this table, whether you are saint or sinner. Those who are certain and those who are not. Those with questions and those with answers. My friends, Jesus does not judge you, and neither do I. And if you cannot come, let one of the ushers know, and I will bring it to you. This table is open to all.
My preaching ministry began that next Sunday, and I preached about love. Well, I guess I have preached about love in every sermon, but that Sunday, I recall preaching about love. In my mind, love is central to the message of the Gospel; love is the Gospel. Love is the only thing that matters because if we do not love, as Paul tells us today in his letter to the Galatians if we do not “love our neighbor as ourselves, the rest of this is worthless.
So, let’s get into it.
Paul says For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Now, as brilliant as Paul was, he did not come up on this by himself. Jesus started it all when He said, ‘I am the fulfillment of all the law and the prophets.’ He also said A new commandment I give to you: love God and Love your neighbor.
And your neighbor is everyone: your white neighbor, your black neighbor, your brown neighbor, your Hispanic neighbor, your Asian neighbor, your old neighbor, your young neighbor, your neighbor who washes his car during a water ban, your neighbor who puts his little green back in your trash bin, your neighbor who does not use the little green bag but instead leaves a present for you, well on second thought, maybe not that neighbor. No, that one too. Your neighbor who aggravates you, as well as your neighbor who brings you chicken soup when you are not feeling well. Your neighbor who loves differently than you, your neighbor whose legal status or citizenship may not be what it is supposed to be, and yes, even your neighbor who votes against everything you believe in, those are the very people we are commanded to love.
However, the good news is that we do not have to like them. We do not have to agree with them on anything. Our blood can still boil when we see them, but we have to love them why because God loves them just like God loves you. God forgives them just like God forgives you. God accepts them just like God accepts you. My friends, we have no choice; we are commanded to do this.
If I can get a little political for a moment, I know it is very uncharacteristic of me to get political. It is my last Sunday, and they say you can do anything on your last Sunday.
Anyway, I think it is safe to say we have some rather significant issues in our Church, our country, and our world, and one of those, one of the biggest of those, is the lack of love. We no longer just disagree; we hate. We no longer just disagree with another person; we hate the person. I know it is difficult to love someone who stands in direct opposition to everything you hold dear, but we cannot hope ever to begin to heal the wounds of our nation and our world, and I am talking to everyone here because we did not get here alone. We cannot begin to heal the wounds that need healing until we can look each other in the eye, vehemently disagree with one another, yet still see the divine spark in the other.
In the Book of Genesis, we read about the creation of the world. The Creator created everything by speaking it into existence. Separated day from night, divided the dry land from water, created the birds of the air, the fish in the sea, and everything with just a word. But, when it came to humanity, the Creator got their hands dirty.
Genesis tells us that the Creator took the dust of the earth and formed humanity with the very hands of creation. And the Creator animated this new creation with the very breath of creation. God breathed God’s breath into creation. God filled us with Ruah, the very essence of the Creator, and this is what we call our soul —the very essence of our being. The very essence of our being was breathed into us, and we come alive when we take our first breath. Every human being was and is created in the same way; we all have the Ruah of God, the breath of God, the divine inherent in each of us. I know it’s hard to see sometimes, but it’s there.
If there is but one thing you take from me over the last few years, it is that love is the only answer to what is wrong in the world—the love of God for each of us and the love that we show to others. Again, we don’t have to like or agree, but we do have to love.
Love is central to the Gospel, and love is the only thing that will heal the wounds of this broken world.
Amen.
