A Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s on Oct. 7, 2007, by the Rev. Cork Tarplee

            Back when I was in training for the priesthood, the noted child psychiatrist Robert Coles came to talk to a bunch of us idealistic clergy wannabe’s.  The thrust of his talk was not to underestimate the serious cost that Christianity asks people to pay for their faith.  He told us about an encounter he had when he was doing his residency.  A well-to-do couple who owned an industrial-sized farm brought their son to see him to “fix” the little boy’s psychological problem.  Seems the child had been in tears in Sunday School because he felt guilty about the migrant workers who were underpaid and badly treated on his parent’s farm. Coles says he talked to the boy who explained that his Sunday School class had taught the Christian duties of charity and justice especially to the poor and the weak.  Far from being a symptom of a psychological problem, it appeared to Coles that the boy’s tears were a normal response to the values he was being taught.  He explained this to the parents who went away angry.  He told us that he heard later that the parents had kept trying child practitioners until they found one who agreed to work with the boy.  The result was that by the end of months of therapy, the boy was pronounced “cured” of his troubles.  By the time he entered high school he was able to view the plight of the workers on his family farm as a normal part of the cost of doing business.

            That cautionary tale is relevant to the readings appointed for this morning and to the baptism we are about to celebrate.  Our readings are full of woe. Lamentations speaks of the exile of the faithful “with suffering and hard servitude.” The Psalm wonders how at such times of suffering the faithful can be expected to “sing the Lord’s song on alien soil?” Paul writes to Timothy to speak up about his faith even in times of persecution: “join with me in suffering for the gospel.”  Even Jesus’ story in the Gospel reading suggests that faithful living may be a grim matter of “doing what was commanded” with no expectation of praise or reward.  All in all, it is a pretty bleak reminder that the life of faith may demand a heavy price.  We are asked to keep the faith in times of sorrow and suffering.  And we all know that life comes with its share of wars, natural disasters, accidents and tragic illnesses.  Everybody in this room knows what it is like to try to hold on to our belief system when we are devastated by the loss or suffering of someone we love.  More than that, these readings ask us to speak out boldly in defense of the Gospel even when doing that might cost us the esteem of our neighbors or even our jobs.  It is more than socially awkward to challenge the mistreatment of those our society marginalizes.  Sometimes doing so can get you fired.  As the icing on the cake we are asked to keep going even if our faith gets tired and weak.  All this is a tough order for anyone.  Are you sure you want to baptize a new baby into such a costly faith?

            The publication of the latest writings by and about Mother Teresa of Calcutta is a reminder that these warnings about the Christian life are no joke.  Some commentators are surprised to learn that a woman could spend a lifetime acting out her understanding of Christian love and at the same time could feel cut off from the presence of God. But that’s no surprise if you take Jesus’ comment on faith seriously: you can get a huge amount accomplished in this world and still have only a tiny grain of faith.  Like the disciples, we may all wish we had such a huge dose of faith that any sacrifice we make would seem worthwhile and we’d always be happy to pay the price.  The truth is that it doesn’t work this way. People get a lot of work done for the sake of what we believe—but when it comes to knowing with white-hot clarity that what we’ve done is worth it…well…we just have to…take it on faith.

            I, for one, think that’s the way it ought to be.  Our doubts prevent us from taking ourselves too seriously and prevent us from being quite as obnoxious about what we believe as we might be. 

            There is some incredible good news in all this talk of suffering and hard work, and it is so obvious we might overlook it. It is this: that even the little bit of faith we have gets a huge amount done.  People of faith have ended slavery, segregation and apartheid.  People of faith insist on the fair treatment of migrant workers and immigrants. People of faith demand and are winning equal status for women.  People of faith are advancing equal status for gay and lesbian people. Little grains of faith the size of mustard seeds have moved mountains. By the grace of God, and with just a little bit of faith, we’ll move mountains I can’t even dream of yet.  I’m delighted to baptize Greta Marie Reinhardt into such a faith.  For one thing, we are a little short handed and we need her help.  And for another: for all its’ stresses, pains and struggles, this Christian life remains one of the great miracles of the world.

                                                                                                AMEN