A sermon for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 20
September 22, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs
Readings: Mark 9:30-37
There once was a priest who thought he knew everything. (Aren’t we insufferable?) The Sunday gospel had been the lesson we just read, and the priest was tired of his small church not doing anything! So he called a group together. The group consisted of the organist, the head of the altar guild, a woman who took care of her mother 24/7, the man who owned the bakery down the street, the new young family with twins–both parents worked full-time jobs. The priest called this crew together to upbraid them. “We’re not doing anything in our community!” he exclaimed. The people cast down their eyes in shame. “We’re not doing anything, and I want to know why!” The priest wanted to start a food pantry, and he wanted this handpicked group of faithful Christians to lead it. One by one, the people said they would help. The organist said he could cut out some practice time; the head of the altar guild said she could probably find some hours between polishing and flowers; the woman who took care of her mother said she would find somebody to fill in; the man who owned the bakery said he could come after hours to help stock; the new young parents decided they would spend their Saturdays at the pantry instead of the park.
Jesus today is talking about greatness. Or his disciples are talking about greatness, and Jesus is talking about service, rooting them in kingdom of heaven values. He says that the greatest of all is servant of all; the first of all is last of all. Our identity as Christians is rooted in service to others, and that’s important. We believe that when we serve others, we serve Christ himself. Service is part of our baptismal covenant; with God’s help, we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves.
St. Luke’s is good at this. I’m proud of us because of it. Our ministries feed and sustain multitudes of vulnerable people in town. We hand out somewhere between 700 and 1000 snack packs to hungry people every month (each snack pack costs about $5, so you can do the math). When the cooling shelter and warming shelter opens, we are the core behind it. You show up to make sure it runs smoothly, that those whom we serve are afforded dignity worthy of all people created in God’s image. This summer, we served nearly 400 unique individuals who would have otherwise suffered through the oppressive heat. Week after week a group of dedicated volunteers gathers downstairs to give some of our homeless brothers and sisters something we take for granted: a hot shower and clean clothes. Those are just a few examples. When you ask people in town which churches do the work, St. Luke’s is bound to come up. From the homeless to the mayor, people know that St. Luke’s is committed to service.
Well done, good and faithful servants. I’m proud to be here, and you are precisely the kind of church that that priest I talked about wanted his church to become. But while that is good and praiseworthy and indispensable to our calling in Hot Springs, today is time for a gentle corrective sermon. That priest I talked about was wrong. Let me tell you why.
When the priest called those people into his office, he assumed they were not already doing ministry and service. But they were. The organist’s ministry was music, and the head of the altar guild’s ministry was altar guild. The daughter’s ministry was caring for her mother, and the baker’s ministry was baking cakes, and the young parents’ ministry was being young parents. But the priest didn’t see that. His view of service was limited to what the church was doing in its social ministries. And our social ministries are important. But service is much bigger than that.
The word we use for service is apostolate. It comes from the word apostle, which means sent. Our apostolate is how God is sending us into the world to serve. Our apostolate is how Christ is calling us to participate in his ministry of love and care. Our apostolate can happen in food banks and cooling shelters–and for some, that is precisely where it happens. That is good. But that is not everyone’s apostolate. For some, their place of service–their apostolate–is in their families, as they care for aging parents, for young children. For some, their place of service–their apostolate–is in their workplace, as they teach, and bake, and file paperwork, and help customers. For some, their place of service–their apostolate–is in the civic world, as they advocate for policies that make places like the resource center possible. And for some, their place of service–their apostolate–is within the walls of the church, as they create an environment where we can all come together to be renewed and fed day by day, week after week, so that we can go out into the world to feed others with the grace and love and goodness we have received. We should note that our apostolates change over time as the demands of our lives change.
I wonder what your apostolate looks like today? I wonder where God is calling you to serve at this stage in your life, where Christ is calling you to participate in his work of love and grace? It may not look like mine, and that’s okay. Our calls to service are unique to us, to our gifts and our circumstances.
Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” I’m here to tell you that no one person here can be servant of all. That’s not our calling. It was Christ’s calling. Christ, the first, becomes last of all. Christ, the greatest, becomes servant of all. My friend, hear the word of the Lord: you ain’t Jesus. Christ does not call you to serve everywhere; but Christ does call you to serve somewhere. Christ calls each of us to embrace our apostolate, relying on his grace. And while we cannot be servants of all as individuals, when we come together as a church, as the Body of Christ, with all our gifts and experiences, with each one responding to the unique call they receive from God–well, then we can end up being servants of all in Hot Springs together.
Back in that room with that rather insufferable priest, there was one other person I haven’t mentioned yet. She was the head of the Daughters of the King chapter for the parish. She listened to her priest. She heard everyone else sign off and say they would help. She said she would go home to pray. And she did. Later that week, she visited the priest. She told him that he had got it wrong. He had failed to see how each person in that room was already doing what God asked them to do. He had started with an outcome in mind; he should have started with prayer. And if a food pantry was needed, God would send the right people along. The priest listened. In time, she was proven right. A small team joined forces with other small churches in town to start that food pantry.
As that woman of God was leaving the priest’s office, she grabbed his hand. She looked at him with compassion. And she said those words that the Daughters of the King say every meeting. It’s a motto that reminds us to be prayerfully rooted in Christ’s call to us. She said, “Father, why don’t you try praying this prayer? ‘I am but one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. What I can do, I ought to do. What I ought to do, by the grace of God I will do. Lord, what will you have me do?’” And to that, all the priest could say was, Amen.
Storied Grace 