Church Meetings

A sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter
May 18, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Acts 11:1-18, John 13:31-35

There is perhaps nothing so dangerous as a church meeting called in haste. Our reading from Acts takes us to one. Peter has been called up to Jerusalem. All the big names are there. The senior warden is at the head of the table at the front of the room. The junior warden is there, too, with the rest of the vestry, all seated on the same side like Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper.” In front of them a podium, the hot seat. The room is full. Each table has a different group. Sometimes these groups disagree. Sometimes they fight among themselves. But today, they all seem to be on the same page. Peter is in trouble, and it’s time to hear from him directly. We’ve heard concerning rumors. Let’s sort it all out. Can you see the scene? Today’s is from the year 38 AD or so in Jerusalem, but the scene has been repeated time and time and time again in nearly every place. Yes, there’s nothing so dangerous as a church meeting called in haste.  

The believers in Judea, the circumcised, have heard that Peter went to the Gentiles and ate with them. In the previous chapter, Acts 10, Peter goes to the house of Cornelius, the first Gentile convert to the Christian faith. Cornelius and his whole house received the word of God; the Holy Spirit descended on them; they were baptized; they are part of the church. Apparently they had a big party after. Peter stayed and he ate. And the believers in Jerusalem are concerned because they–those Gentiles–well, they not like us. Peter himself had been worried about it, too. That is, before his dream with the unclean animals that he tells the crowd today. The dream had convinced him that those things and people he had called unclean, those things and people he had avoided–that God was calling even them to himself. “What God has made clean you must not call profane.” 

Like all stories, this one has a backstory that we must understand to really get what’s going on. At this time, the followers of Jesus are all Jewish. The followers of Jesus see themselves as a Jewish sect. They keep the dietary laws; they go to Temple; they observe the feasts and the fasts; and they worship the risen Lord. But quickly in the Church, in this part of Acts, things begin to shift. The Holy Spirit begins to color outside the lines. And soon there are Gentiles that are joining the ranks. The question becomes: Do they have to become Jews to follow Jesus? Do they have to be circumcised; do they have to follow dietary laws; do they have to observe feasts and fasts? These are questions that divide the early followers of Jesus. These are the very questions that will lead to the first ecumenical council, the council of Jerusalem, in Acts 15, sometime around the year 50 AD. While the church will eventually decide that Gentile converts do not need to become Jews, but that being a Christian is a new thing–while the Church will eventually come to that decision, we are a long way off from that. And frankly, right now that seems like the minority view. You know church meetings? Minority views are tough. 

It is clear in today’s reading that the Holy Spirit is doing a new thing–and Acts tells us that the people praise God when they realize that “God has given even to the Gentiles repentance that leads to life.” But there is a rumbling in the room. We don’t quite know what this means. And it makes us uncomfortable. And maybe we need to figure out how to control all this? 

The Church is not ours; it belongs to Jesus Christ. It is his Body. We’re just members. And the Holy Spirit is going to do what she wants to do. That’s a hard lesson to learn. Because sometimes we think we get to decide who is worthy. Sometimes we think we get to decide where God should and should not move. Sometimes we think it all depends on us–growth, numbers, conversion of life, repentance. Sometimes we think we are the head, instead of Jesus Christ our Lord. After all, at every church meeting I’ve been to, the priest had a reserved seat, but Jesus didn’t. Even so, he shows up anyway.

A few decades ago now, there was a church meeting not far from here in east Arkansas, in a small country town. The HIV/AIDS crisis was ravaging the nation. It was no longer just in the big cities; it was in Arkansas, too, and it could not be ignored. And a church meeting was called. A church meeting was called because a group of ladies had decided to care for the HIV/AIDS patients they knew, one of whom was a six year old boy in the area who was dying. This ministry kind of fell in their lap, and they wanted to be faithful, so they followed. And they just kept saying these are God’s children, too. Maybe they used Peter’s line–they certainly should have: What God has made clean, you must not call profane. They could have quoted Jesus from our gospel reading today: Love one another just as I have loved you. But a church meeting was called.  

Like every story, there was a backstory here. It was a story of prejudice and fear. Since the early 1980s, when the epidemic began, an estimated 700,000 people have died from AIDS in the US alone, many of them gay men. The Episcopal Church was opening its doors, I am proud to say, but it was not easy. A lot of people left. In parish halls in church after church, ministries like the one in east Arkansas were called up to give an accounting, like Peter, step by step. And then the church had to decide what they would do. Some thought it was too dangerous to have those men in our pews. Others said they could come, but they shouldn’t receive the Eucharist, and definitely shouldn’t be in leadership. Others said they could receive the Eucharist, but shouldn’t we have the small cups instead of one common cup? Others didn’t focus on church at all, and instead just said some hateful things about gay men–all of those things that are not true but were circulated around, especially in the 80s and 90s. 

As for east Arkansas, I don’t know how it happened. I really don’t. The women answered questions about their ministry, and they were determined to continue. This was God’s work. The church elders were just trying to hold everyone together. I don’t know how it happened–but at some point, Jesus walked in, and seeing no seat reserved for him, took an empty one toward the back. At some point, the Holy Spirit swooped down like a rushing wind. And that church meeting changed. And this small parish in the middle-of-nowhere Arkansas decided they were going to share the love of Jesus. They decided they were going to be a place where those with HIV/AIDS would be welcomed and loved and cared for. They decided that if Jesus had one cup at the Last Supper, they would have one cup at the Eucharist. This group of Arkansas farmers decided to side with the love of God, the grace of Jesus, the power of the Spirit, instead of the waves of fear that had claimed control over the world. And they praised God, because the Holy Spirit was moving in unpredictable ways. 

My friends: the Church isn’t ours. Jesus Christ is our head, and he calls the shots. May he grant us the grace to hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people, even to us. And may he grant us the courage to follow wherever he leads.