“Stewards of Mystery”
A Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Hilary J. Barrett for Epiphany 8
Preached at Pleasantville UCC, February 27, 2011
1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Matthew 6:24-34
“Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.”
(1 Corinthians 4:1)

A couple weeks ago I had a chance to spend a little time with my son in the great city of Chicago.  He is in his second year at the University of Chicago, and he is loving it.  Well, loving it may be a bit much.  He is loving living away from his parents.  He is loving making new friends.  He is loving singing in – count them – four different singing groups.  (When people ask what Sam is majoring in, we say he’s majoring in Political Science with an obsession in Music.)  He is not loving the part where he comes to understand why the University of Chicago has an official t-shirt (that they market no less) which says: “The University of Chicago: Where Fun Goes to Die.”  These are kids who are scarily serious about their studies.  And when I went to visit my boy a couple weeks ago he blessed me with the opportunity to have dinner with some of them.

It is a great moment as a parent when your kid actually wants you to take him and his friends out for dinner.  They are always hungry, of course, and money is tight – so I had the advantage. 

It was such a joy to sit at the table and just watch.  I couldn’t get a word in edgewise – not that I wanted to.  They were all talking at the same time, with great animation, about things that were important to them.  It seemed as if they did not take breath the entire meal.  I was exhausted but full of gratitude by the end of it.

One more thing occurred that night which surprised me greatly.  Sam had to leave us to attend a meeting, and instead of the gathering of friends quickly dispersing they remained at the table and shared with me their concerns about a mutual friend.  They were processing out loud the dilemma of how to help him as he was going through a very difficult time.  But they were also processing how to boundary this fellow and his troubles which were significant.

I was honored, of course, to be included in the conversation.  They were in over their heads and they were reaching out for help.  Fortunately, I was not the only adult they involved and I am hopeful that they now have the support they need to meet the challenge of this situation.

But one of the things that struck me as we wrestled with this serious dilemma was the absence of any conversation that included a reliance upon God.  These young people, Sam tells me, are atheists.  They are non-believers.  They are good people.  They are caring people.  They are wildly intelligent people.  They care about the world, they recycle, and many of them are vegetarian or vegan.  They buy locally.  They think globally.  They are well-connected technologically.  They know what’s going on in the world politically and, thanks to facebook, they know what’s going on in each others’ lives. They Skype at night with each other and worry over the world and the well-being of their friends.  They strategize about change and wonder about how to fix all the systems in the world that are broken and oppressive and life-denying.

And all that’s just before lunch. 

What a tremendous weight of responsibility.  They are so engaged and so delightful, and they believe so much that everything – absolutely everything – depends upon them.

Read here, Brunner’s translation of the text.

I rejoice that my boy has found friends with whom he shares a passion for music and politics and learning and life.  And I would not wish away one ounce of their enthusiasm.  But it does make me sad to see how heavy a burden of responsibility these young people carry.  And from their perspective, it seems, they carry it alone.  Our options that night, in that conversation, could have been so much broader and deeper if the power of God’s healing, transforming, and providential love could have been acknowledged and invoked.

In this morning’s reading from Matthew, as we continue to make our way through the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches his disciples that it is impossible to serve two Lords – one cannot serve both God and the cultural idol of Success.

Jesus then teaches them about the two anxieties: worrying about our lives, and worrying about our bodies.  He says, look at the birds and look at the flowers, they don’t worry – and doesn’t your heavenly Father watch over them?

The entire sixth chapter of Matthew’s gospel is a call to faith.  Through a series of illustrations, Jesus is asking his disciples to make God God; to place God at the very center of their lives; to value only God’s rewards; and to stop flirting with the world’s religion of Success and Illusion of Control.

“So don’t you ever worry, saying, ‘What are we going to eat?’ or ‘What are we going to drink?’ or ‘What are we going to wear?’ because it is all these concerns that obsess the secular world…But you people be seeking…his kingdom and righteousness” as a first priority.  That’s what makes you different from the rest of the world.

Being different from the rest of the world is hard.  Jesus has been teaching us that we need to be salt and light in the world – to retain our distinctiveness as Christians in the midst of a secular world.  Jesus keeps teaching us that we need to go against the grain of the culture and forgive the people who wish us harm; to be creative in our response to evil, but to remain faithful and obedient to the Gospel.  And now, Jesus teaches us that we need to demonstrate our trust in God by giving up the very thing that many of us cling to most closely – our worry; our anxiety; our illusion of control; and our fear of having nothing to fall back upon…nothing but the very Ground of Being itself: the One Eternal God.

This is what it means to be a person of faith.  This is what separates us from those who do not believe.  To be a person of faith means that, no matter the circumstances, God is always part of the equation. 

In good times, we rejoice, giving God praise and the glory.

In bad times, we lament, calling out to God to come to our aid.

When we have come to the end of our own strength, we lean upon the Holy One for support.

When we are brushing a child’s hair, or gazing at the face of our beloved, or when a sudden slant of light breaking through the clouds takes our breath away, we acknowledge with awe those ordinary moments of extraordinary blessing, and we give thanks for the wondrous gifts of our faithful and generous God.

In that brief text that we read this morning from the apostle, Paul, to the Corinthians, Paul uses a phrase to beautifully teach us how followers of Christ and teachers of His way are to be regarded.  “Think of us in this way,” he writes: “as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.”[1]

Those who seek to follow Jesus are considered “stewards of mystery.”

I like that language very much, and it seems to me quite accurate.  We are stewards of mystery; called to point beyond ourselves to a power greater than our own.  We are witnesses to the holy things and the hopeful things in a culture that has largely forgotten how to rely upon God. 

This afternoon we will share in a public event that acknowledges and celebrates the completion of our new Sanctuary.  It’s the final piece of symbolic ritual in this journey of bringing a new house of worship into the world. 

The Groundbreaking was the first public act.  The Cornerstone Celebration, the second.  The Consecration of the Sanctuary, was the third, making it possible for us to worship in that space as a congregation, knowing that the hallowing process had already begun. 

And today, we open our doors to friends and neighbors and those who have accompanied us on our journey – perhaps from afar – but who also have a stake in what we do here.  Today’s ceremony is a decidedly public act.  It acknowledges and proclaims that we are a people who bear witness with our lives to the very real presence and power of the Almighty in our midst.  We are stewards of mystery.

One of the Creeds that we use from time to time in worship comes to us from the United Church of Canada and it offers these words:

We are not alone,

    we live in God's world.

We believe in God:

    who has created and is creating,

    who has come in Jesus,

       the Word made flesh,

       to reconcile and make new,

    who works in us and others

       by the Spirit.

We trust in God.

We are called to be the Church:

    to celebrate God's presence,

    to love and serve others,

    to seek justice and resist evil,

    to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen,

       our judge and our hope.

In life, in death, in life beyond death,

    God is with us.

We are not alone.

    Thanks be to God.

These are radical words in a culture that values almost everything else above commitment to God. 

What we do here today, and what we’ve done here by building a house of worship in the 21^st century, is a radical thing.  When mainline churches all over the country are closing their doors for lack of support, we have chosen to be stewards of a great and awesome mystery.  We have chosen to be a very public presence in the world; to minister the grace of God among people who have forgotten how much they are in need of a Savior. 

We are called to be stewards of mystery -- rejoicing to proclaim God’s love for all people.  We are entrusted with the message of reconciliation, in and through Jesus Christ.  We are to be salt and light in the world, bearing witness to God's life-giving Word and Spirit that conquers the powers of sin and death.  We are to proclaim the mighty deeds of God, in our own many and varied languages.  We are to announce and declare one holy and life-giving truth:

We are not alone,

we live in God's world.

Thanks be to God!  Amen.