A sermon preached at the Installation of the Rev. David Mowers as Rector of Trinity Church, Baraboo, Wisconsin
I have to admit I was a little tickled
when your new rector informed me that, because it is St Matthias’ Day in the
church calendar, one of the readings for the service this morning was to be
about the choosing of Matthias as the twelfth apostle to fill the space left by
Judas Iscariot. In one sense it is a most appropriate reading for the present
occasion. After all, this service is a celebration of your choosing a new
rector to serve in your parish. However, I rather doubt that you used the same
method as the apostles did in going for Matthias. And on the slim chance that
you did, you’re probably not going to admit it when the bishop is present!
My own theory about the passage (for
whatever it’s worth) is that both candidates, Joseph and Matthias, were equally
suited, equally qualified, equally gifted for the position. The little church
in Jerusalem was in an enviable position. Good rectors are not always easy to
come by—and I am sure that the members of your search committee worked and
searched and prayed hard before they found the young man who stands before you
this morning. And let me add from my own experience over a number of years (and
as I suspect you yourselves have already begun to recognize) you have found a
man of excellence.
So we’ll leave Matthias aside for now,
because I suspect the other passages that we have read from the Bible this
morning are Dave’s choice—and if we look at them we may find some clues about
the kind of ministry he is going to have among you and in which I have no doubt
he will want you to become engaged.
Consider your call…
In the reading from 1 Corinthians Paul
is writing to the Christian community in a busy port and commercial center on
the Mediterranean Sea near the southern tip of Greece. Unlike this church,
which has ministered in Baraboo for more than 160 years, the church in Corinth
was still in the toddler stage. It had been founded by Paul himself during his
second missionary journey, just four years or so before he wrote the letter
from which we have just read. So you can imagine the level of esteem in which
some of those parishioners held Paul. There were some, in fact, who were proud
to claim, “I’m one of Paul’s followers.”
It was a claim that horrified Paul, for it is
a constant temptation to slip into the habit of focusing the ministry of the
Christian community in one person. It happened in the first century and it
happens in the twenty-first. In one church where I served there were some
people who still looked back longingly to the rector who had gone there in
1897! But Paul turns the tables around in the opening words of this morning’s
reading: “Consider your own call, brothers and sisters…”
Now I can imagine what probably went
through the minds of those people as these words were first read to them. “My call?”
“But I don’t have a theological degree.” “I can’t get up in a pulpit and
preach.” “I wouldn’t know how to counsel anybody.” And on and on the list goes.
But Paul pulls the rug out from under all of that. Look how he describes the
Corinthian church: “Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were
powerful, not many were of noble birth.”
And this was nothing new. Think of Jesus’ followers.
They were a ragtag group if ever there was one: a handful of fishermen, a tax
collector (considered a turncoat by the locals), a radical freedom fighter, and
on the list goes—including even one who would later betray him. They were
constantly arguing with one another. They repeatedly missed the point of Jesus’
parables and miracles. They cowered in a locked room after he was crucified. Yet
these were the ones who very soon would be turning the world upside down!
The point is that Jesus isn’t looking for
superstars. He’s looking for women and men who are simply willing to live their
lives in faithfulness to him.
Today, as you officially welcome Dave
Mowers as your rector, you are giving recognition to the fact that you are on a
journey together. The church has often been likened to a ship. It’s why we call
the area where you are sitting the nave. But it’s not a luxury cruiser. It’s
more like the ships that the Romans used to conquer the Mediterranean world,
strenuously rowed by hundreds of men in the lower decks. (If you’ve ever seen
the movie Ben Hur, you’ll know what
I’m talking about.) The maneuverability of those ships depended on every
oarsman pulling his weight. So too the mission of the church depends on each and
every of us living in full and wholehearted response to God’s call in Jesus
Christ.
When I came to you…
It is only after challenging the members of
the Corinthian church to fulfill their calling that Paul goes on to write about
his own. He tells them that he didn’t make any attempt to win them over by what
one translator renders as “polished speeches and the latest philosophy”.[1] Perhaps Paul had learned from his experience in Athens, where that
approach had been a bit of a flop only a few days before! And that in turn may
also have been why he came to them “in weakness and in fear and in much
trembling”.
Whatever the case, the sacred ministry is a
solemn and awesome responsibility. I had that impressed on me at my ordination
as a priest. We were still using the “old” Book of Common Prayer at the time,
from which the bishop said to me,
Have always therefore
printed in your remembrance, how great a treasure is committed to your charge.
For they are the sheep of Christ, which he bought with his death, and for whom
he shed his blood. The Church and Congregation whom you must serve, is his
spouse and his body… Wherefore consider with yourselves the end of your ministry
towards the children of God, towards the spouse and body of Christ; and see
that you never cease your labour, your care and diligence, until you have done
all that lieth in you…[2]
I remember years later sitting down behind
my desk on my first day in a new parish and dialing my predecessor on the
telephone. “How are you doing?” I asked him. “Well,” he said, “probably just
like you. I’m sitting here feeling utterly incompetent.” We clergy may put on a
veneer of bravado, but I believe the best of us recognize deep within ourselves
that we are unequal to the task that has been committed to us.
It was for that reason Paul made a
resolution that in both word and action he would seek to point to Jesus Christ
and to him alone—and that he would do it not by falling back on his substantial
rabbinical and academic training but by surrendering completely to the Holy
Spirit. Now that does not mean that Paul flew by the seat of his pants. (I’ve
seen preachers that do that and it doesn’t work!) No, it meant that everything
he did was bathed in prayer.
I believe that in calling David Mowers to
the ministry of word and sacrament in this parish you have invited into your
midst a remarkable man with remarkable gifts. He has a deep commitment to Jesus
Christ as his Lord and Savior and he has a deep love for the church. He is a
preacher of extraordinary ability. He is a leader and a man of vision. He is
gifted with a fine intellect and reads deeply and broadly. But none of that
will come to any fruition unless it is enlivened and empowered by the Holy
Spirit. And by the way, you may disagree with him about which baseball team to
root for, but don’t let that stand in the way of coming alongside him and
praying for the power and blessing of the Holy Spirit both upon him and upon
your ministry together.
… So that your faith might rest on the power of God
Now all of this has a purpose. And that
purpose, says Paul, is “that your faith might rest on the power of God”. There
is always the temptation to put our faith in other things: in church programs,
in budgets, in traditions, or whatever. I suspect our particular Episcopal
inclination is to put our faith in thinking that we’re the only ones who know
how to do it right, whether it’s our social justice agenda or just the fact
that we seem to be the only ones who know better than to sing Christmas carols
in Advent or Alleluias in Lent!
I remember hearing the story of a Chinese
pastor visiting a group of pastors in our part of the world. He told them how
in his church there were no hymnbooks, no computers, no budget, indeed not even
a building. The pastors expressed their amazement that a church could function,
much less thrive, without all these seemingly necessary tools. To which he
replied, “And I am amazed at how your churches are able to continue without relying
on the power of God!”
In this morning’s gospel reading we heard
the story of those two downhearted men drearily making their way along the seven-and-half-mile
walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Their hopes, their dreams, their whole world had
crashed down upon them with the sight of Jesus hanging lifeless on the cross.
“We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel,” they confessed to the
mysterious stranger who had joined them along the journey. It was not all that
much later that they were staring at each other in amazement and stuttering, “Were
not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while
he was opening the Scriptures to us?”
They realized that they had been in the
presence of Jesus. Surely that’s the kind of thing Paul is getting at in this
morning’s reading when he writes about “a demonstration of the Spirit” and about a faith that rests on the power of God. By his preaching and
teaching, in his ministration of the sacraments, in his daily prayer and
conversation, and above all by his life and character, Dave’s job is to help
you live in the power of the Holy Spirit. He is here to help you discover Jesus
as a present reality—as the one who has died and yet is alive forevermore.
There is no doubt in my mind that your
search committee and your bishop were led by God to bring Dave Mowers to serve
in this parish. And my prayer for you as you officially embark on this journey
together is that you may indeed find your hearts burning within you, that you
may know the daily presence of Jesus in your lives and in your midst, and that
by the power of the Holy Spirit you may be bearers of his grace and his good
news to a needy world.
