Sermon

February 6, 2005

Address to St. Stephen’s Annual Meeting, Feb. 6, 2005, by the Rev. Cork Tarplee

My colleague is a successful, well traveled preacher who serves on a lot of boards and committees, and he flies often. His seat mate on one recent trip, however, was clearly in a different league. Her faded cotton dress and worn purse contrasted with his pinstripes and shiny laptop. Her attitude contrasted, too. She was inexperienced but open and voluble, talking loudly about the grandchildren she was going to see. He, just wanted to be left alone. His coolness didn’t stop her wonder at everything on the flight. She paid close attention to the safety instructions, she exclaimed loudly when they took off that the trees down there looked like peat moss, she was amazed that you could get apple juice in cans, and that the airline sandwich came with extra mayonnaise. When the plane finally taxied into the gate, she exclaimed, “Now wasn’t that a fun trip?” After she left, the preacher sat to ponder. The trip had been a tedious chore for him, but for his seatmate it was a wonder and a delight. Maybe, he thought, I’m the one missing something. All of us, jaded and as busy as we are, are always in danger of missing the trip.

Dr. Carlyle Marney says that God probably doesn’t come to church every week, and of course, he adds, if you are God you don’t need to. It is just us who need to make sure we get here, because, as Marney says, some Sunday when we least expect it God is going to walk down the aisle and sit next to you and your life will be transformed. And if we happen to skip church the day God comes, we’ll miss it.

God has always transformed things, but people usually haven’t responded well.. Moses went up Mt. Sinai to receive the Law, and down below the people rose up in rebellion. God announced that Sarah would have a child in her old age--through whom Israel would receive the Promised Land. Sarah laughed. Jesus shone with the holy light of God, and the disciples fell on their faces in fear. Grumbling, laughter and fear are our most common reactions when God is up to something among us. And no wonder, for we live in hard times, live hard lives; we are old and tired and have other things to do; and we are generally overwhelmed. It is entirely understandable that we might miss the trip, miss the things God is up to.

My friends, dear people of St. Stephen’s, my message to you at this annual meeting is simple: “Don’t miss the trip.” As the reports before you today indicate, God continues to ask us to do the work we have done so well over the years. This year we have continued to be faithful to our call to serve God in the people around us: we’ve made a home for the homeless through the Interfaith Hospitality Network, put on a fantastic Easter party for kids with AIDS, distributed a record number of Thanksgiving dinners and Angel-Tree Christmas gifts; we have welcomed an unprecedented number of new members; we’ve made glorious music, conducted ever more inclusive worship services, we’ve blessed animals, baptized, married and buried; we have provided a home for twelve-step groups with a total weekly attendance of 150: we’ve taught children in church school in record numbers, and we’ve provided groups and growing experiences for teenagers and adults.

We have begun to reach our stride in some newer ministries that still feel a little awkward to us. Our ReGenerations program is in full flower, with four counselors serving three different nursing homes and a successful “Transitions” group here. Our Mausoleum has just completed its first full year of operations—and it is still so new, I bet some of you haven’t even seen it yet(—drive up; it is worth the trip). For the second time in two years we have sent one of our own into the ordained ministry: this time Lynn Czarniecki, ordained to the Sacred Order of Deacons.

God’s transformation of the people and community of St. Stephen’s also involved some brand new things: We had our first ever Festival of the Arts this year, a way of recognizing the extraordinary creativity of the people of this parish. The Vestry conducted our first ever “Mutual Ministry Review” which resulted in new initiatives in our financial life, and a review of our Preschool Ministry.

And God is not finished with us yet. Some of the work begun this past year will lead us into new territory in the coming year. We started painting the church with contributions from myself and some memorial moneys. Most people think it really looks good, and I think it is one of the things God is up to here, but the painting can only continue if the members of St. Stephen’s give to “Paint for the Saint.” If every family in the parish gives $35 a month for the next three months, we’ll finish painting everything that needs it—including the bell tower. And a much more ambitious project is looming. Our review of the needs of the Preschool has convinced the Vestry to expand our ministry to daycare for toddlers and infants. This two-phased, two-year expansion will result in the construction of a new choir room this year, and will lead us in 2006 to reclaim the space currently used by the Milton School. The Milton School, which needs to double in size in order to continue to operate is looking for new quarters. We are proud to have helped give birth to this fine institution. We are even prouder to take the risks necessary to provide a much needed ministry to the parents of this area who need loving care for smaller children.

All of this change seems new and awkward. We would not be human if God’s call to us did not result in some grumbling, laughter, and fear. But let us not miss the trip. I would remind you of the sacredness of what we do here. Jim Taylor recalls an early awareness of the sacredness of the church’s mission. He was a child, visiting in India when his father took him to a communion service in a small village. There was no building, just a gathering under a tree. The bread was chapatti, the same flatbread everybody uses there for lunch. The wine was not served in silver vessels, but in cups made out of leaves folded into cones and stitched with a thorn. But to the child’s eyes the meal glowed with a sacred light nonetheless, and he grew into adulthood wondering why this gathering was so special. It was not until recently that Taylor realized that under the ancient Indian caste system, untouchables normally did not eat and drink with the higher castes, but many of the Christians in this village were streetsweepers and latrine cleaners—untouchables who were unacceptable in most gatherings. But here, at this meal, suddenly they were no longer outcasts, but equals in God’s eyes and in the eyes of the community. God, you see, takes ordinary things--table bread and homemade cups, a little paint, the sweat of our brow, the time we spend with children—God takes ordinary things and makes them into something extraordinary, signs of love and hope and dignity. It is quite a trip. Next year, too, will be a remarkable year for us. We may grumble, laugh or quake, but let’s not miss the trip. AMEN