Sunday, September 27, 2015

Imperfect Disciples

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
September 27, 2015

Year B, Proper 21: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50

Imperfect Disciples

            By now most of you have heard me talk about how much I love weekday worship – and how proud and thankful I am that, thanks to a small but faithful band of worship leaders, we’ve managed to maintain our schedule of weekday services for more than two years now.
            I can’t prove this, but I really believe that all of that worship, all of those prayers echoing off of these old walls, bathing this room in prayer, have had a powerful spiritual effect on all of us here at St. Paul’s, even if we’ve never once come to church during the week.
            One of the reasons I love weekday worship is it gives me – gives us – a chance to learn about some of the great Christians of the past. Our church calendar is filled with what are called “Lesser Feasts,” days set aside to honor people, both famous and obscure, who used their talents and energy to share the Good News.
            And then there are the Major Feasts. On most of those days we honor people from the New Testament – members of Jesus’ own original band of disciples. For example, last week we celebrated the Feast of St. Matthew, the Apostle and Evangelist.
            I love learning about – and preaching about – these remarkable people.
            To be honest, sometimes I think there’s no way that you and I can really be like them, really give away our lives for Christ.
            But, then, other times, I’m reminded that just like us, these holy women and men were all too human.
            Like us, they were imperfect disciples.
            And, in our gospel lessons these past few weeks, we’ve been reminded just how imperfect Jesus’ closest disciples could be.
            Two weeks ago we heard the story of Jesus predicting his arrest, death and resurrection. You may remember that, out of love for his Lord and maybe some anxiety about his own fate and the fate of the other disciples, Peter “rebuked” Jesus, trying to convince Jesus to turn away from his mission, to avoid his terrible and holy fate.
            Imperfect disciples.
            And then last Sunday, we heard Jesus predict his arrest, death, and resurrection a second time.
            This time, disciples didn’t rebuke Jesus.
            No, instead, we’re told that they didn’t “understand” what Jesus was talking about – that sounds a little too convenient to me - so they quickly changed the subject, arguing among themselves about a very earthly, all too human subject: who among them was the greatest.
            Later, the disciples are understandably embarrassed when Jesus asks them what it was they were arguing about.
            Imperfect disciples.
            And now the imperfect disciples continue their streak in today’s gospel passage.
            The disciples report to Jesus that they saw someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name and they tried to stop him because he was not one of the twelve.
            Somehow, the imperfect disciples have gotten the idea that they have some kind of a monopoly on Jesus – that only they should be licensed to teach and heal in the name of Jesus.
            Jesus, of course, isn’t having any of it, telling the disciples that they should let others do deeds of power in his name.
            He goes even further, opens the door even wider, saying, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”
            We’re not told how the imperfect disciples respond to that. If they were smart, they just kept silent.
            The first disciples – the men and women who knew Jesus in the flesh, who walked with him, who heard his teaching, who witnessed his miracles – the holy women and men who we remember on our church calendar were imperfect disciples.
            And, of course, we’re imperfect disciples, too.
            We make mistakes. We fall short. We’re imperfect – more imperfect than we’d probably like to let on.
            And, obviously, that includes me, too.
            These last few days I’ve been even more aware of my imperfections than usual.
            As most of you know, about a month ago I accepted a position teaching Religion at St. Peter’s Prep, my alma mater.
            My reasoning was that I could both continue to serve as your rector and also teach full-time, that, in fact, teaching full-time would save the church enough money that I could, in fact, continue to serve here.
            I have to tell you that my new classes and colleagues have been great. I’ve really enjoyed being back in the classroom.
            There’s just one problem. In these first couple of weeks of classes I quickly realized that I can’t do both jobs. I just don’t have enough time or energy to teach and be parish priest. Or, at least, there’s not enough of me to do both of these jobs as well as they must be done.
            In my imperfection, I over-estimated my own abilities.
            So, I realized I had to make a quick, difficult, decision or I was going to do real damage either here or at school, or, most likely, both.
            On Monday, I met with the principal and told him that I had made a mistake and that I couldn’t continue teaching at Prep. He was disappointed (and in a flash I had created a headache for him and the school) but he understood and was very gracious.
            Friday was my last day at school.
            I have to tell you that this was one of the most difficult decisions of my life – and I’m really pretty sad about it – and I feel embarrassed that I made such a major miscalculation.
            Imperfect disciple.
            But, of course, I’m in good company – we’re in good company. Christian history and our church calendar are full of imperfect disciples.
            The good news is that God specializes in imperfect disciples, always reaching out to us, calling us back, strengthening us, nudging us in the direction of forgiveness and love.
            And, sure enough, this morning, yet again, God calls us back, reaches out to us, nudges us, strengthens us, in and through the baptism of Andrew.
            In just a few minutes, right here, right back there at the font, in and through the water of baptism, God will make an unbreakable bond with Andrew, this eight year-old boy who told me - and in a moment will tell all of us - that he wants to baptized.
            In and through the water of baptism, God will make an unbreakable, indissoluble, bond with Andrew.
            And, this is the best news ever because we know that Andrew, like all of us, will be an imperfect disciple.
            Like all of us he’ll do things he shouldn’t do – and won’t do things he should do.
            Like all of us, he won’t be as loving and forgiving as God calls to be.
            He’ll make mistakes that will create problems for others.
            But, no matter what, despite (or, maybe because of) all of his – and our – imperfections, God never, ever, lets go of us.
            So, today we imperfect disciples get to welcome yet another imperfect disciple – we get to welcome our young brother, Andrew – we get to welcome him to our imperfect band.
            Thanks be to God.
            Amen.