I think I mentioned this last week, but the 3 of us – your
preschool director, your parish administrator and your pastor – sit down in the
mornings now for morning prayer. We use
this space right here, we each light a candle, and then we read from the daily
devotion: Christ in our Homes. I know some of you pick up and use that
resource (from the narthex) as well. A
few weeks ago, the brief devotional reflection described a man in the choir,
who loved to sing. He was the lead voice
on most of the anthems, but he was also a cheerleader, a coach, and friend in
the choir group. He hosted parties for
them, gave them gifts and thank you’s, loved the congregation…and then one
year, his dear spouse, his life-partner became ill and died of cancer. The devotion described the funeral service,
where the choir sang, but this man was not with them, he was on the front row
listening to them. On this day, he was
not able to sing. He could only mouth
the words to “Beautiful Savior” and “Abide with Me”. And he
relied on those, who had for so long relied on him, to do the singing. And to carry him through.
That really is a wonderful picture of church, isn’t it? How we, many times are perfectly able to
believe, to smile, to care for each other and to sing. No problem.
But how dark times come and sometimes we are rendered unable to believe,
are unable to smile, and unable to sing.
That’s not surprising – of course we all have good days and bad. What’s so special about church however, is
that, and we might not always realize this – in our good days, when we’re in a pretty
good place, and our capacity for singing is full, we might just be carrying
someone else through.
So when we are able to embrace another, whether literally or
through song or through prayer, let’s do it.
And at other times we have to let ourselves be embraced, like that dear
man on the front row.
Our reading from Ephesians today goes really far and actually ties singing to wisdom, actually to the
Wisdom of God.
I find it kind of funny actually that singing is contrasted
in our second lesson with drunkenness.
Of all things to contrast drunkenness with: singing? I’ll be honest, for me, singing and having a
few beers is one of my favorite things to do with my brothers. There’s a young congregation in Denver –
maybe you’ve heard of them, called the House for All Sinners and Saints – and
they have a bi-annual event called “Beer and Hymns”, which frankly sounds
awesome to me. But here we are
challenged to think about what “sober spirited singing” might look like, and I
think we need to think about that in more ways than just literally.
What does it mean to sing spirited songs in full
consciousness, in full presence, in full awareness of our neighbors? Not in some kind of a tipsy haze. How do we lift one another up, and carry one
another through the dark days, the difficult times? And
how do we swallow our own pride and let others carry us, when that time comes?
The gift of church is that it works two ways: Sometimes
you carry the tune and sometimes you’re carried by the tune.
So be sure to give it all you got, when you can, sisters and
brothers in Christ, little Christs. Be
sure to sing out with your life – however that looks. If you’re a teacher then teach, if you’re a
listener then listen, if you’re a coach then coach, if you’re a singer then
sing, and if you’re a cook, then we live at 3490 Monique…
God has given us each special abilities and special gifts,
and we are called to share those, not just with each other, but with the world,
both friend and stranger alike.
And here’s where our Gospel text comes in: As we are engaged in thing building up of the
body of Christ, that is in the mutual giving and receiving of care and song,
that is in the sharing of wisdom – Christ is present in our midst, Christ
abides with us. IN the breaking of
bread, and the spilling of the cup, Christ’s body and blood tips over into us,
and we become Christ’s body for the this hurting world. This is
God ABIDING, for truly it is this one Lord, Jesus Christ who carries us as we
carry Christ in our bodies and out into the world.
You are a reflection of God’s love for this world, sisters
and brothers. In all you say and all you
do. In your willingness to reach out,
and even in your willingness to be cared for, to be carried, to be sung to, to
be hugged, you are a reflection of God’s love.
Feast on that!
God—thanks be to Jesus Christ—breaks into our lives in the
most mysterious of ways. It’s not just
the choir that’s showing Christ to their dear bereaving lead singer. He shows Christ to them, as he allows them to
carry him…
Church works both ways.
Sometimes you carry the tune, and
sometimes you’re carried.
Christ is our tune.
Christ is our song. Christ is our
bread and cup. Christ is our body. Christ is our earth. Let us go now, treading lightly, but treading
faithfully, from this place, filled to the brim with Christ, on whom we’re
about to feast. Trusting in Christ’s
fingerprints and melodies in our everyday lives. Confident that our present day and our future
years rest safely in God’s merciful arms.
For we are the church of Jesus Christ, the bread of life.
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