Sept. 7, 2014
Ex. 12:1-14
Rom 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

A visiting YDS professor was called upon to preach at the downtown New Haven church where I interned about 18 years ago. I don’t remember his name, but a story he told has found a permanent place in my collection of important religious experiences.

He talked about praying for healing, and in his search for healing learning about a little chapel out in the dust and desert of outer Santa Fe. Great and miraculous recoveries were reported to have happened there, and so he made a bit of a pilgrimage. When he arrived, there was a long line out the chapel door and around the building. People seeking divine intervention in one form or another, for one prayer or another, awaited their turn to scoop up a bit of the sand that made the chapel floor and to pray at the alter.

The professor realized that that same sand was all around them. It was on the chapel floor and on the ground that they stood upon and so he scooped a bit into his hand and he prayed as he stood in line. He prayed fervently for his problems and he asked for healing, but as he did he also began to notice more clearly the people around him. In particular, right in front of him was a woman in a wheelchair.   He began feeling for her and sympathizing with her. He began caring about her and hoping for her and praying for her. After some time he realized that he had forgotten why he came there, or rather, his needs were no longer the pressing matter on his heart. When he knelt at the altar it was this woman whom he lifted up to God. And to him it was like he had been transported outside of himself into a wholer version of himself. He was somehow more than who he was, and in that “more” he felt surprisingly healed.

To me the professor’s story is a story about healing, but it’s also a story about faith. It’s a story about the surprising ways in which God heals, but its also a story about the communal nature of faith, and how faith gives us ourselves by drawing us beyond ourselves and uniting us together with the heart and work of God.

The story comes to mind this morning because in a way each of our scriptures speaks about the importance of community, and about God’s priority of calling together not just persons, but a people.

In Exodus we read of the Passover and the electing, saving, and liberating of God’s people. In Romans we read of the love that is to govern the Church in its awakened state. And in Matthew we read of the authority that is given to this community that is governed in love.  Ultimately, the bible is the story of God and God’s people. Christian faith is about our place in that story and in that greater community of God’s family.

However, I think we pretty easily loose sight of that. Christian faith often becomes very individualized. It becomes about “me and my God.” The connection between a faith that is personal and a faith that draws us beyond ourselves into a deeper kind of personhood and connectedness with others gets lost. We become isolated individuals each hoping to find the key to some personal assurance and promise of salvation. Others play a less and less vital role.

I’m reminded of a scientist whom I saw interviewed once on “60 Minutes,” I believe.   It was a segment on global warming. While the greater scientific community pointed to evidence that indeed we had a human made problem that could have some potentially disastrous consequences, there was one guy who was a bit of a hold-out. He was a scientist, employed by one of the oil companies, who insisted that the evidence was inconclusive and pointed to various explanations that supported his position. At one point, the interviewer asked him, “But what if you are wrong? Wouldn’t you rather err on the side of caution? What if we are contributing to our own demise and we don’t do anything about it?” He replied, “then, because of my faith in Jesus, I have the personal assurance of salvation. I know that I’ll go to heaven when I die.”

My fear is that his perspective is not unlike the perspective that many Christians hold. My faith is strictly about me. It is about getting me saved. It is about me making sure that I have eternal worth. Others can go and do the same for themselves. Or, they can not. Too bad if they don’t, but it wont effect me one way or another. In other words, faith becomes fire insurance, protecting us from the condemnation of God. And the Church becomes a group of people who ultimately do nothing more than celebrate themselves.

Clearly, that’s not what God has in mind. Clearly community means something to God. Clearly we are not meant to live in isolation. We are meant to love and be loved, to give and to receive, to serve and to grow together. It is in these interactions that we are tied to something greater than ourselves. And, without them it becomes harder and hard to know the amazing truth that we’ve been invited to do the sacred work of God almighty.

In Matthew Jesus says, “I assure you that whatever you fasten on earth will be fastened in heaven. And whatever you loosen on earth will be loosened in heaven.” Though its not entirely clear to me what Jesus means, the implication seems to be that God has given the Church some significant authority. The Church’s actions in the name of Christ, (that is, what the people of God do with and for the people of God’s world) can have a profoundly enduring effect on us and on others.

Just after our passage today Peter goes to Jesus and asks, ”Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy seven times.” In other words, let forgiveness be your way. Let forgiveness be the way of the church.

If you think about it, we have been given the authority to give an amazing gift – to be givers of God’s forgiveness and reconciliation. We, the Church, get to speak God’s word of redemption – to say even to the unlovable “you are loved,” to say even to those who have isolated themselves, “you need not be alone,” to be for those who live in darkness a light that breaks though.

It is quite a calling, really. And, when we live into it we find that our own lives are much more than our own.