Saint Nobodies
"It's All Saints day..." she says smiling peacefully from the pulpit as we settle into the pew. We're always late and there's no sneaking in when the whole sanctuary is as big as most people's living rooms. We are seated in the back on the epistle side. Our priest, who is a grandmother, is sharing her homily from what Episcopal's call the "gospel side" of the church - the side of the church where the gospel is preached.
A priest in a traditional high church usually speaks from the center of the apse (where the altar is found) only when they serve the Eucharist. All other communication is given from an humble position on either side of the sanctuary. Each aspect of this small church was given thought and symbolism in its design. Communicating what is important and what is more important by placement. What is more important than the words spoken by a rector or sung by those in the choir is what takes place in the most prominent place of any sanctuary in the episcopal tradition - the center of the apse where we share the Eucharist. Jesus encouraged us that when we gather to always - "eat this bread and drink this wine and remember me." It changes us. Every time. It changes us.
Sitting there in century old pews with the sun filtering through stained glass windows, we are often surprised. Often we are surprised by how much mud our crew carries in from the farm. The Lawman catches my eye and looks at the floor as I move the smallest's dirty boot off the of the pew where he's been propping his leg since they cannot reach the floor. We are messy people, in more ways than one. Commenting to the priest about our clear path from the church door to the pew where we sat one day she responded, "A little dirt never hurt this church, we're just so glad you're here." Healing comes in many forms.
This Sunday we had no idea it was All Saints day. Neither of us have been a part of a church that follows the Christian calendar outside of Easter and Christmas. Fascinating for two recovering evangelicals. We often learn something new at this small church that began to gather faithfully in 1853. A lot has changed, but much remains the same. The same calendar, the same scriptures, creeds and hymns. And more importantly, the same Gospel. Christ died. Was buried. Christ was raised to life. We are challenged to remember and practice what He spent most of His time here teaching - that there is another Kingdom and another way that we are here to practice in our ordinary living.
Tradition is something that can link us to those who have gone before - it's a powerful tie that reminds us that we are a part of a larger story of Love. The Great Romance. Many of the traditions of this small rural church look nothing like what the Early Church valued. They met in homes, they did not have choirs, although they sung hymns we're told. Neither did they have altars to receive the bread and wine. These traditions evolved over the centuries and much like the temples of the Roman gods where patrons came to hear preaching from the religious leaders, give their money, gather around an altar/stage to pray and sing together of the greatness of their god - Christian practices today look much the same. We've moved so far past the early Believers' ways of gathering that it can be rather confusing. In fact, a lot of what we do and call "Christian" today is confusing. We are messy people.
Priest Maggie goes on slowly, "We remember the saints who have gone before us and remind us to continue to follow Christ with faithfulness." I stare quietly up into the vault that looks like the inside of an ancient ship and remember reading about the saints who have gone before us, gathering around the Trinity to cheer us on. Knowing that .01% of recorded history includes women, as the priest speaks I try to remember some of the sisters who have gone before that we call saints today. I find myself wishing that I could share meals with each saint who has gone before, asking what kept them going, when did they feel like giving up and how did God meet them in their darkest hours. I'm certain they would all be surprised to be known as saints. But it's exactly who they are, ordinary saints. Which seems confusing too when you hear of some of the awful things they've/we've done. We are messy people.
"There are a few we can name from memory, but there are literal thousands whose names have been forgotten. Saint Nobodies. This is what we are all invited to become, a Saint Nobody. A saint who quietly loves and cares for those around them without the cultural drive to become SOMEBODY. Saint Nobodies are the ones we remember today, the ones who lived faithful lives of loving and serving God and others without recognition or accolades." she continues as she invites all of us to what Paul invited the saints in Thessalonica to do too, "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life; mind your own business and work with your hands..."1 Thess 4:11-12
"Christ is inviting all of us to be nobodies who love and serve Him so that He may be glorified." My head shoots up. I do not remember hearing this gospel. I've heard and lived many other gospels, but not the one inviting me to be a nobody. I listened skeptically. Unlike the mantra of being a part of a world changing generation destined to usher in the return of Christ - this invitation to be a nobody seemed somewhat strange. Strange, but freeing too if it was true. I kept listening.
The priest went on to share, in her regular 15 minute homily time frame, that while the disciples kept jockeying for positions of greatness/leaderships/influence/honor/titles/power - Jesus continued to remind the them that following Him required great servitude that looked like being a child. He was inviting them to be saint nobodies too. And it wasn't going over so well. Their gospel was the gospel of greatness and impact that would change the world. But Jesus kept trying to tell them that He had already changed the world and that they were here to love and serve. Even up to the end when they all walked away from Him we see them trying to understand these other Kingdom ways. We are messy people.
Being a nobody goes against our cultural grind for more and better. Even in the church we sing songs about being a chosen generation. #SaintSomebodies Not to mention our inherent drive to be something special that has been there since we decided we could not trust God. We keep wanting to be special in a way were weren't made to be - we want to be worshiped for our efforts and accomplishments, really. Yet we are absolutely special in the fact that all of the Great Love of the Trinity is focused on restoring relationship with us and Them. That makes us all somebodies. Receiving that love and giving it away - that is something. Really something.
We honestly cannot believe we find ourselves sitting in an organized church these days. But here we are - sitting here and being healed. We are the youngest family in this church of 70 year olds. There are no other children or children's church, but our kids are present among saints who adore them and keep showing up to pass the Peace and pray collective prayers and repeat the Nicene Creed and make certain get all of the cake and cookies they can hold in the vestry after the alleluia celebration, every time we're there. We are messy people being healed.
Churches like ours, who use the The Revised Common Lectionary, read the same scriptures every week around the world for three years and then repeat. A priest finds her message from the text - no matter if the text is about Jesus casting out demons or chatting with the local prostitute. And in our church the text is read by laity from the epistle side of the church. Last Sunday a woman we know walked from the middle of the sanctuary up to the altar and began to read from the assigned text in Deuteronomy 8. I was still trying to figure out where we were in the multiple paged bulletin when my head shot up at her words. Read with the authority of an aging school teacher that she is she continued to read and pause for effect:
The lector didn't make it to verse 10 before the tears began to make their way down my face. I think I literally gasped when she read the part about copper and iron being in the hills as that is exactly what has been mined from the hills surrounding us for generations, not to mention it being a good land filled with streams and vegetation. As she read about God humbling and testing His people I turned to see the gracious man I am married to had his eyes closed with tears staining his collar as he held a squirming child. We were both holding our breath with each word coming across thousands of years right into our spirits.
As she closed with "This is the word of the Lord." and we all responded, "Thanks be to God." I whispered, "Help us to never forget the wilderness and your goodness there." The wilderness doesn't scare us anymore it's where we met with Him in ways we never would have otherwise. As we adjust to this promised land time of our life we want to always remember the dark of the nights in the wilderness. We want to remember His goodness in the land of the living because wildernesses will come again.They always do. But his faithfulness remains.
If you're like us you've possibly gone through many stages in your faith journey. The faith you inherited may not look exactly like the one you practice today. We attend a small church whose theology we do not 100% agree with and it is not our faith community. But it is a place of healing and hope for our weary souls.
Maybe you are in a place of waiting in the wilderness of faith. It's okay - wherever you're at, there are plenty of saints who have gone before you that have walked in your shoes. You're not alone. We are all a mess. :)
If you keep seeking, you're going to find the loving arms of the Trinity. Don't stop. It's awfully hard to follow/obey Jesus, but it's pretty darn simple. You're going to have to blend in to the masses, serve people you don't like, share your best things and love a lot of people it would feel really good to hate. It's the way of another Kingdom.
And if you're ever in this part of the country and want to join us one Sunday morning. We'll save a messy, muddy spot for you in the back on the epistle side in a church full of saints nobodies. :):)
A priest in a traditional high church usually speaks from the center of the apse (where the altar is found) only when they serve the Eucharist. All other communication is given from an humble position on either side of the sanctuary. Each aspect of this small church was given thought and symbolism in its design. Communicating what is important and what is more important by placement. What is more important than the words spoken by a rector or sung by those in the choir is what takes place in the most prominent place of any sanctuary in the episcopal tradition - the center of the apse where we share the Eucharist. Jesus encouraged us that when we gather to always - "eat this bread and drink this wine and remember me." It changes us. Every time. It changes us.
Sitting there in century old pews with the sun filtering through stained glass windows, we are often surprised. Often we are surprised by how much mud our crew carries in from the farm. The Lawman catches my eye and looks at the floor as I move the smallest's dirty boot off the of the pew where he's been propping his leg since they cannot reach the floor. We are messy people, in more ways than one. Commenting to the priest about our clear path from the church door to the pew where we sat one day she responded, "A little dirt never hurt this church, we're just so glad you're here." Healing comes in many forms.
This Sunday we had no idea it was All Saints day. Neither of us have been a part of a church that follows the Christian calendar outside of Easter and Christmas. Fascinating for two recovering evangelicals. We often learn something new at this small church that began to gather faithfully in 1853. A lot has changed, but much remains the same. The same calendar, the same scriptures, creeds and hymns. And more importantly, the same Gospel. Christ died. Was buried. Christ was raised to life. We are challenged to remember and practice what He spent most of His time here teaching - that there is another Kingdom and another way that we are here to practice in our ordinary living.
Tradition is something that can link us to those who have gone before - it's a powerful tie that reminds us that we are a part of a larger story of Love. The Great Romance. Many of the traditions of this small rural church look nothing like what the Early Church valued. They met in homes, they did not have choirs, although they sung hymns we're told. Neither did they have altars to receive the bread and wine. These traditions evolved over the centuries and much like the temples of the Roman gods where patrons came to hear preaching from the religious leaders, give their money, gather around an altar/stage to pray and sing together of the greatness of their god - Christian practices today look much the same. We've moved so far past the early Believers' ways of gathering that it can be rather confusing. In fact, a lot of what we do and call "Christian" today is confusing. We are messy people.
Priest Maggie goes on slowly, "We remember the saints who have gone before us and remind us to continue to follow Christ with faithfulness." I stare quietly up into the vault that looks like the inside of an ancient ship and remember reading about the saints who have gone before us, gathering around the Trinity to cheer us on. Knowing that .01% of recorded history includes women, as the priest speaks I try to remember some of the sisters who have gone before that we call saints today. I find myself wishing that I could share meals with each saint who has gone before, asking what kept them going, when did they feel like giving up and how did God meet them in their darkest hours. I'm certain they would all be surprised to be known as saints. But it's exactly who they are, ordinary saints. Which seems confusing too when you hear of some of the awful things they've/we've done. We are messy people.
"There are a few we can name from memory, but there are literal thousands whose names have been forgotten. Saint Nobodies. This is what we are all invited to become, a Saint Nobody. A saint who quietly loves and cares for those around them without the cultural drive to become SOMEBODY. Saint Nobodies are the ones we remember today, the ones who lived faithful lives of loving and serving God and others without recognition or accolades." she continues as she invites all of us to what Paul invited the saints in Thessalonica to do too, "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life; mind your own business and work with your hands..."1 Thess 4:11-12
"Christ is inviting all of us to be nobodies who love and serve Him so that He may be glorified." My head shoots up. I do not remember hearing this gospel. I've heard and lived many other gospels, but not the one inviting me to be a nobody. I listened skeptically. Unlike the mantra of being a part of a world changing generation destined to usher in the return of Christ - this invitation to be a nobody seemed somewhat strange. Strange, but freeing too if it was true. I kept listening.
The priest went on to share, in her regular 15 minute homily time frame, that while the disciples kept jockeying for positions of greatness/leaderships/influence/honor/titles/power - Jesus continued to remind the them that following Him required great servitude that looked like being a child. He was inviting them to be saint nobodies too. And it wasn't going over so well. Their gospel was the gospel of greatness and impact that would change the world. But Jesus kept trying to tell them that He had already changed the world and that they were here to love and serve. Even up to the end when they all walked away from Him we see them trying to understand these other Kingdom ways. We are messy people.
Being a nobody goes against our cultural grind for more and better. Even in the church we sing songs about being a chosen generation. #SaintSomebodies Not to mention our inherent drive to be something special that has been there since we decided we could not trust God. We keep wanting to be special in a way were weren't made to be - we want to be worshiped for our efforts and accomplishments, really. Yet we are absolutely special in the fact that all of the Great Love of the Trinity is focused on restoring relationship with us and Them. That makes us all somebodies. Receiving that love and giving it away - that is something. Really something.
We honestly cannot believe we find ourselves sitting in an organized church these days. But here we are - sitting here and being healed. We are the youngest family in this church of 70 year olds. There are no other children or children's church, but our kids are present among saints who adore them and keep showing up to pass the Peace and pray collective prayers and repeat the Nicene Creed and make certain get all of the cake and cookies they can hold in the vestry after the alleluia celebration, every time we're there. We are messy people being healed.
Churches like ours, who use the The Revised Common Lectionary, read the same scriptures every week around the world for three years and then repeat. A priest finds her message from the text - no matter if the text is about Jesus casting out demons or chatting with the local prostitute. And in our church the text is read by laity from the epistle side of the church. Last Sunday a woman we know walked from the middle of the sanctuary up to the altar and began to read from the assigned text in Deuteronomy 8. I was still trying to figure out where we were in the multiple paged bulletin when my head shot up at her words. Read with the authority of an aging school teacher that she is she continued to read and pause for effect:
For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land—a land with brooks, streams, and deep springs gushing out into the valleys and hills; 8 a land with wheat and barley, vines and fig trees, pomegranates, olive oil and honey; 9 a land where bread will not be scarce and you will lack nothing; a land where the rocks are iron and you can dig copper out of the hills.
10 When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. 11 Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. 12 Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, 13 and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, 14 then your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. 15 He led you through the vast and dreadful wilderness, that thirsty and waterless land, with its venomous snakes and scorpions. He brought you water out of hard rock. 16 He gave you manna to eat in the wilderness, something your ancestors had never known, to humble and test you so that in the end it might go well with you. 17 You may say to yourself, “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.” 18 But remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.
The lector didn't make it to verse 10 before the tears began to make their way down my face. I think I literally gasped when she read the part about copper and iron being in the hills as that is exactly what has been mined from the hills surrounding us for generations, not to mention it being a good land filled with streams and vegetation. As she read about God humbling and testing His people I turned to see the gracious man I am married to had his eyes closed with tears staining his collar as he held a squirming child. We were both holding our breath with each word coming across thousands of years right into our spirits.
As she closed with "This is the word of the Lord." and we all responded, "Thanks be to God." I whispered, "Help us to never forget the wilderness and your goodness there." The wilderness doesn't scare us anymore it's where we met with Him in ways we never would have otherwise. As we adjust to this promised land time of our life we want to always remember the dark of the nights in the wilderness. We want to remember His goodness in the land of the living because wildernesses will come again.They always do. But his faithfulness remains.
If you're like us you've possibly gone through many stages in your faith journey. The faith you inherited may not look exactly like the one you practice today. We attend a small church whose theology we do not 100% agree with and it is not our faith community. But it is a place of healing and hope for our weary souls.
Maybe you are in a place of waiting in the wilderness of faith. It's okay - wherever you're at, there are plenty of saints who have gone before you that have walked in your shoes. You're not alone. We are all a mess. :)
If you keep seeking, you're going to find the loving arms of the Trinity. Don't stop. It's awfully hard to follow/obey Jesus, but it's pretty darn simple. You're going to have to blend in to the masses, serve people you don't like, share your best things and love a lot of people it would feel really good to hate. It's the way of another Kingdom.
And if you're ever in this part of the country and want to join us one Sunday morning. We'll save a messy, muddy spot for you in the back on the epistle side in a church full of saints nobodies. :):)
Comments
Post a Comment