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Once there was a young seminary graduate who accepted the call to be the solo pastor of a small town church. It could have been anywhere. The congregation was happy to have this vibrant young man come to be their pastor. The last couple pastors hadn't stayed very long. One had been a bad preacher. One had run off the young people. So they welcomed this pastor with open arms and a fellowship dinner complete with a banner in front announcing "Welcome to First Church" and balloons saying "Congratulations." The moving van unloaded his meager belongings into the church manse. He joined the Rotary Club right away like they told him to at seminary. He received much acclaim for his Easter sermon, and the nominating committee was congratulated on their choice. But a month or two later, the chair of the women's committee was driving by the church manse and noticed that the grass was getting high. She told the chair of the property committee. The chair of the property committee lamented to the clerk of session that this new pastor had come from a big city and maybe didn't know that people around here keep their lawns neat. "Someone ought to tell him to cut the grass," she replied. Meanwhile, the young pastor was beginning to wonder when someone was going to invite him to dinner. The frozen dinners were beginning to get boring. He thought he had hinted enough about how much he loved the homemade pies from the Sunday afternoon social. And when, he wondered, were they going to come and cut his grass? He remembered someone on the search committee telling him how great they were at taking care of their pastors and keeping up the manse. Another two weeks passed. The grass got higher. The twitter began during coffee hour. "Have you seen how he is letting our manse get so run down?" "I sure did- he must not care much about how we look in the community." The pastor thought he had preached a good sermon that Sunday about caring for one's neighbors, but no one caught his eye at the coffee hour to tell him so. He was hoping someone got the hint that the neighbor he wanted taken care of was himself. Was anyone ever going to mow his stupid lawn? But the lawn still grew. It grew, and grew, and grew. It grew into grimaces in the office. It grew into sleights at the grocery store. It grew into criticism that the pastor didn't care about the congregation, and the pastor was beginning to wonder if he did or not. As fall began, the same chair of the women's committee called the district office. She told the Executive that the church was losing members because of this new pastor's lack of concern for the congregation. He was simply not the match they thought he would be. The ministry committee came. Sides were taken. The lawn in question had wilted from first frost and was now covered up with leaves. No compromise could be reached. A committee member was heard to say on the way out of the meeting room, "Can you believe that? That's the first I've ever heard of a pastoral split over who was going to mow the grass." This story might be funny if it weren't true. We all know that this power game really wasn't about the grass, right? The institutional church has a dark side. When judgment becomes something we do instead of about what God does, the walls of criticism can get so high so quickly that we can't see our way over or through. What was once a misunderstanding about expectations turned into a battle over who would win the stand-off. Is this all we expect the church to be? I don't think so, but sadly the story of the unmowed lawn is just one expression of how we bring our sin and stubbornness with us to church. Let me do a little experiment…How many of you have at least one friend or colleague who doesn't go to church precisely because of stories just like this one? On some days, do you blame them? Even solid church members have the occasional Sunday they'd rather sleep in or spend the morning sipping tea and reading the paper. What bothers you most about the church? It doesn't have to be about this church, but about any church. What's the hypocrisy that the outside world seems to notice so clearly, but that we who are inside the church sometimes fail to confront? Lack of love, criticism, saying one thing & doing another, etc. Pastors are not immune from this blame game that we play. In fact, we are pretty good at it. We talk with each other about lack of respect, and authority, and bodily expressions of our stress and mistrust that we feel either in our congregations or from the Presbytery which is like our church. But we all are at fault when we fail to name the judgment and criticism for the sin that it is. Like the folks in the story, we become just another human agent in the hypocrisy. Until we get that point, as a denomination, we will continue to move churches to the "closed" column. And as individuals, we will see the "unchurched but spiritual" component of our society continue to grow. Even for those of us who care deeply and passionately for the church, we can't always get it right. Some days we love the church, other days we hate the church, and most of all we are sad to see that the institutional church is often not the Body of Christ as we imagined it would be. After years of reading our Bibles, I wonder where exactly does that sense of shock come from that it isn't all we had hoped? From the very beginnings of recorded spiritual truths, we find out that God's people are sinful, stubborn, and like to play God themselves - and trust me, I include myself as one of God's people in that statement. None of us are perfect, but God loves us just the way we are. From a recent experience of small group work in the Presbytery, I have learned once again that it takes an earnest desire for authentic relationships and the intentional setting aside of my own prideful ways to be able to turn away from undue judgment and begin to embrace someone I used to think of as "against me" as truly a brother in Christ. Even in the Presbytery, God's grace abounds. So what are good church people to do in this highly critical, perfectionistic, "meet all my needs first" kind of world? What would it take to be the church that God calls us to be? Perhaps paying attention to this scripture lesson could get us back on track with where judgment truly belongs. We have gotten our idea of judgment all kefluey. Judgment belongs to God alone. It's interesting to me that what Jesus has to say about judgment never pits right against wrong, it pits love against apathy. Jesus doesn't really pick winners, but he surely points out the kinds of attributes that are found in those who share his love for God and for our fellow human beings. Jesus teaches us about the final judgment, saying to those who reach heaven's gate, "I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. The righteous will answer, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' And the King will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it for one of the least of these who are members of my family you did it to me.'" Jesus begs us to open our eyes to the needs of others by imagining that every time we help someone in his family, especially those who are on the fringes, we have done the same for him. The righteous are not known by their perfection, but they are compassionate. In reading this text about the calling of nations, an even broader term than church, why it only makes sense to me that pastors, lay people, everybody who wants to be counted among the sheep, must limit the behaviors that demonstrate a "me first" attitude in order to fit Jesus' expectations. One must think beyond oneself and one's own needs to recognize the hungry and the thirsty, or to welcome the stranger. Those who receive eternal punishment are not called out based on scriptural purity laws. They are not the Sunday morning sleep-in crowd. They are the ones who are too wrapped up in their own concerns to notice the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the sick or the imprisoned. Jesus wants us to acknowledge his face both in the face of our friends and in the welcome of strangers. We cannot do that when we stress the imperfections and forget that this person, the one right in front of us is truly a child of God full of the same needs, wants, and desires that we have for ourselves. Amazingly, Jesus promises, actually promises eternal life for those who care more about the needs of others than the satisfaction of themselves. It's a lofty goal, but what a goal to try to live by! Amen. |
