Church Potluck
Sermon
Sermons on the Second Readings
Series II, Cycle C
Object:
It was the pastor's first Sunday at the church. She had just finished the morning services and was making her way down the aisle to the door at the rear of the sanctuary for the traditional handshakes and "nice sermon, reverends." She thought she had done a nice job, and most folks had seemed to enjoy it.
She took her place at the door, next to the choir director and a few others who always stood there for some reason or another. The first person to greet her was a nice looking, older lady, looking rather short and frail, but with a wonderful smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. She took the pastor's hand, shook it gently, and quietly leaned forward and bit the pastor on the thumb.
The pastor jumped back about five inches and yanked her hand away from the lady. Her eyes still gleamed and she still had that wonderful smile on her face as she nodded and turned to walk out the door. Fortunately, the lady apparently wore dentures, and they were loose enough that the bite was rather soft and did not break the skin. What was most amazing to the pastor was that no one else seemed to notice, and everyone smiled and talked about this and that.
A bit later in line was a kindly looking, young man. She remembered him because he really seemed to be paying close attention to her sermon, frequently nodding his head and smiling just at the right times as she made her points. He walked up to her and took her hand and shook it. Then gently bowed forward and bit her just above the wrist, right there in front of God and everybody. Again, no one seemed to notice as she yelped and jumped back from the handshaker-biter. And this one left a mark. She turned to the choir director standing next to her, and only then noticed the scars. Little marks on her hand, and her arm, some of them pretty darn big, too. But the choir director just nodded, and gave one of those "what are you going to do?" kind of smiles, and went back to shaking hands -- and getting bit.
By the end of the greetings, she counted eleven nips and three or four actual bites that left marks. Two even broke the skin and probably needed some treatment of some kind. But there were many more sincere handshakes, and some really wonderfully kind and supportive words for her sermon. Overall, it felt like a really wonderful place to be. Except for the biting, that is.
The next evening happened to be the regular monthly meeting of the church council. It would be a great opportunity to meet people, and get a better understanding of just how the church worked. As she entered the room for the meeting, everyone was happy to see her, and made her feel right at home. All looked normal. They sat around the three big cafeteria tables that had been pushed together to form one big table. There were probably 25 chairs around the table, and by the time the meeting started most all of them were filled. The only thing that seemed unusual was the Kleenex box, or boxes, on the table. There must have been ten or eleven of those boxes around the table, all of them freshly opened and full. But the conversation was good, and promptly at seven, the council chair called the meeting to order.
The chair turned to the new pastor and asked if she would be willing to open the meeting with a brief prayer. This was not unexpected and she had come prepared for this. But as she spoke the few words, she was not prepared for what happened next. Just as she ended the prayer with an, "Amen," the little man sitting next to her leaned over and bit her on the arm. It was a real bite, too. It broke the skin and began bleeding. Before she could do anything, the woman on the other side reached for some Kleenex and pressed it upon the pastor's arm, stopping the bleeding. "Just hold it there for a few minutes dear, and it will be all right."
The pastor was too overcome with shock to even respond. Everyone had seen what had happened, just as they had yesterday morning in the greeting line. But while she tried to regain some of her senses, the meeting continued.
The minutes were read and accepted without comment. A few letters were read, and the new pastor was formally introduced. All applauded and smiled. Her arm still ached a bit, but the bleeding had indeed stopped. Her friend on her left had slid the Kleenex box closer to her, just in case she needed a fresh bandage.
It was as the meeting continued that the pastor began looking around. She began to notice, once again, the scars. Lots of scars. And she was curious about the number of crutches leaning against chairs. There must have been half a dozen people there using crutches.
The discussion then turned to the work being done in the church basement. A woman on the far side of the table was describing the new colors that had been selected for the women's bathroom, currently being renovated. Just as she began passing around paint chips, the woman sitting on her left leaned over and bit her on the shoulder; bit her hard. Another neighbor reached for a Kleenex box, and the discussion never wavered. The paint lady did waver though, in fact, she started to swoon from the attack. Someone walked over to her and helped prop her up in the chair, as they all continued the debate of the new colors for the downstairs women's restroom.
The new pastor was overcome to the point of standing up in her chair and asking, "What in the world is going on here?" Everyone looked totally surprised by her outburst. They all glanced around the table in obvious confusion, before finally all turning to the council chair for some direction out of this distraction from their church business. The council chairperson began explaining that everything was just fine, and that sometimes we disagree about things in the church, but that we handle those disagreements and move on.
It was then that she noticed his thumb. Or I should say she noticed his absence of a thumb. And the second finger on his left hand. There were also scars on his arms, and a couple visible on his neck as well. He noticed her checking him out, and went on to explain that sometimes even church people have disagreements, and that they really do love each other, and just want to help each other do the right things. Just as he finished, the council co-chair, sitting on his right, leaned over and took a big bite out of the council chair's left wrist. And the treasurer immediately slid a box of Kleenex over and offered the first handful.
Okay, let's end this silly story right here. Whoever heard of such nonsense? People taking bites out of other people. In church no less. Impossible.
Nonsense perhaps, but impossible?
In today's reading from Paul's letter to the churches of Galatia, he urged them to allow themselves to be led by the Spirit, and not by the flesh. He explained what he meant was that they should focus on things like kindness, generosity, patience, gentleness, and self-control, and not spend their time in jealousy, anger, quarreling, and arguing. What has always fascinated me is his little comment that if, however, we continue to bite and devour each other, we should take care that we are not totally consumed by one another.
Perhaps, today's story is a bit over the edge, and far too close to nonsense. But don't fool yourself. There are people here today wearing the scars from the bites of others. Oh, they are invisible scars perhaps, not requiring boxes of Kleenex to stop the bleeding, but they are scars. They are scars that hurt and frighten and sometimes even do fully consume us. And there are those among us who have wonderful smiles, and speak kind and gentle words of support, while at the same time biting pieces out of our spirits, all the while believing they are helping us.
What could be more nonsense than that?
She took her place at the door, next to the choir director and a few others who always stood there for some reason or another. The first person to greet her was a nice looking, older lady, looking rather short and frail, but with a wonderful smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. She took the pastor's hand, shook it gently, and quietly leaned forward and bit the pastor on the thumb.
The pastor jumped back about five inches and yanked her hand away from the lady. Her eyes still gleamed and she still had that wonderful smile on her face as she nodded and turned to walk out the door. Fortunately, the lady apparently wore dentures, and they were loose enough that the bite was rather soft and did not break the skin. What was most amazing to the pastor was that no one else seemed to notice, and everyone smiled and talked about this and that.
A bit later in line was a kindly looking, young man. She remembered him because he really seemed to be paying close attention to her sermon, frequently nodding his head and smiling just at the right times as she made her points. He walked up to her and took her hand and shook it. Then gently bowed forward and bit her just above the wrist, right there in front of God and everybody. Again, no one seemed to notice as she yelped and jumped back from the handshaker-biter. And this one left a mark. She turned to the choir director standing next to her, and only then noticed the scars. Little marks on her hand, and her arm, some of them pretty darn big, too. But the choir director just nodded, and gave one of those "what are you going to do?" kind of smiles, and went back to shaking hands -- and getting bit.
By the end of the greetings, she counted eleven nips and three or four actual bites that left marks. Two even broke the skin and probably needed some treatment of some kind. But there were many more sincere handshakes, and some really wonderfully kind and supportive words for her sermon. Overall, it felt like a really wonderful place to be. Except for the biting, that is.
The next evening happened to be the regular monthly meeting of the church council. It would be a great opportunity to meet people, and get a better understanding of just how the church worked. As she entered the room for the meeting, everyone was happy to see her, and made her feel right at home. All looked normal. They sat around the three big cafeteria tables that had been pushed together to form one big table. There were probably 25 chairs around the table, and by the time the meeting started most all of them were filled. The only thing that seemed unusual was the Kleenex box, or boxes, on the table. There must have been ten or eleven of those boxes around the table, all of them freshly opened and full. But the conversation was good, and promptly at seven, the council chair called the meeting to order.
The chair turned to the new pastor and asked if she would be willing to open the meeting with a brief prayer. This was not unexpected and she had come prepared for this. But as she spoke the few words, she was not prepared for what happened next. Just as she ended the prayer with an, "Amen," the little man sitting next to her leaned over and bit her on the arm. It was a real bite, too. It broke the skin and began bleeding. Before she could do anything, the woman on the other side reached for some Kleenex and pressed it upon the pastor's arm, stopping the bleeding. "Just hold it there for a few minutes dear, and it will be all right."
The pastor was too overcome with shock to even respond. Everyone had seen what had happened, just as they had yesterday morning in the greeting line. But while she tried to regain some of her senses, the meeting continued.
The minutes were read and accepted without comment. A few letters were read, and the new pastor was formally introduced. All applauded and smiled. Her arm still ached a bit, but the bleeding had indeed stopped. Her friend on her left had slid the Kleenex box closer to her, just in case she needed a fresh bandage.
It was as the meeting continued that the pastor began looking around. She began to notice, once again, the scars. Lots of scars. And she was curious about the number of crutches leaning against chairs. There must have been half a dozen people there using crutches.
The discussion then turned to the work being done in the church basement. A woman on the far side of the table was describing the new colors that had been selected for the women's bathroom, currently being renovated. Just as she began passing around paint chips, the woman sitting on her left leaned over and bit her on the shoulder; bit her hard. Another neighbor reached for a Kleenex box, and the discussion never wavered. The paint lady did waver though, in fact, she started to swoon from the attack. Someone walked over to her and helped prop her up in the chair, as they all continued the debate of the new colors for the downstairs women's restroom.
The new pastor was overcome to the point of standing up in her chair and asking, "What in the world is going on here?" Everyone looked totally surprised by her outburst. They all glanced around the table in obvious confusion, before finally all turning to the council chair for some direction out of this distraction from their church business. The council chairperson began explaining that everything was just fine, and that sometimes we disagree about things in the church, but that we handle those disagreements and move on.
It was then that she noticed his thumb. Or I should say she noticed his absence of a thumb. And the second finger on his left hand. There were also scars on his arms, and a couple visible on his neck as well. He noticed her checking him out, and went on to explain that sometimes even church people have disagreements, and that they really do love each other, and just want to help each other do the right things. Just as he finished, the council co-chair, sitting on his right, leaned over and took a big bite out of the council chair's left wrist. And the treasurer immediately slid a box of Kleenex over and offered the first handful.
Okay, let's end this silly story right here. Whoever heard of such nonsense? People taking bites out of other people. In church no less. Impossible.
Nonsense perhaps, but impossible?
In today's reading from Paul's letter to the churches of Galatia, he urged them to allow themselves to be led by the Spirit, and not by the flesh. He explained what he meant was that they should focus on things like kindness, generosity, patience, gentleness, and self-control, and not spend their time in jealousy, anger, quarreling, and arguing. What has always fascinated me is his little comment that if, however, we continue to bite and devour each other, we should take care that we are not totally consumed by one another.
Perhaps, today's story is a bit over the edge, and far too close to nonsense. But don't fool yourself. There are people here today wearing the scars from the bites of others. Oh, they are invisible scars perhaps, not requiring boxes of Kleenex to stop the bleeding, but they are scars. They are scars that hurt and frighten and sometimes even do fully consume us. And there are those among us who have wonderful smiles, and speak kind and gentle words of support, while at the same time biting pieces out of our spirits, all the while believing they are helping us.
What could be more nonsense than that?
