St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
July 21, 2024
Year B, Proper 11: The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
2 Samuel 7:10-14a
Psalm 89:20-27
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The Only House God Wants
So, it turns out that planning your own funeral can actually be a lot of fun.
Who knew?
Last Sunday, after the 10:00 service, about forty of us gathered in the Parish Hall and had a great time talking about Christian funerals and at least beginning to consider lessons and hymns and all the many details that go into the service.
(Don’t worry if you missed out – we’ll do it again in December.)
I pointed out to the group that funerals are evangelism opportunities – and I invited everyone to consider including Holy Communion in our funerals.
We all know that there are lots of people – including many of our own family members and friends – who are turned off by church.
(Not necessarily this church specifically, but “church” in general.)
And often they have good reasons.
The loudest Christian voices in our country tend to be mean and judgmental and hypocritical.
And we all know that the church has been stained and discredited by abuse, corruption, and exclusion.
So, a lot of people stay away – they stay as far away as possible.
But they do still come to funerals.
So, each time we have a funeral, my hope is that we will offer something that is beautiful and meaningful and authentic – and not crazy – something that will get at least one or two people who’ve been away to say, “You know, that was great. I’ve missed that. Maybe I’ll give church another try.”
And a big part of that beautiful, meaningful, and authentic offering is Holy Communion.
For people who’ve been away from church, who’ve been alienated by church, I think hearing our invitation to Communion – that all are welcome – that it’s not necessary to be an Episcopalian or a member of St. Thomas’ – hearing that kind of welcome can be quite powerful.
And way more powerful than the invitation is actually receiving the Body and Blood of Christ – taking Jesus into our body and soul – into our heart.
And our heart is the only house God wants.
If you’ve been in church for the past few weeks, you may remember that we’ve been hearing about the rise of King David.
In today’s lesson from Second Samuel, David’s enemies have been defeated.
He’s firmly in command of his kingdom and he’s living in a house made of cedar – then, as now, an expensive building material.
(We have the bills for our church’s new cedar shake roof to prove it!)
Well, to his credit, David realizes that there’s something off about him living in a nice house made of cedar while the Ark of the Covenant – understood to be the very presence of God – was living in… a tent.
So, David decides that he’s going to build a house for God – and the Prophet Nathan wholeheartedly approves the plan.
But it turns out that God has other ideas.
God has been on the move since the Israelites were in the Sinai wilderness during their long exodus from Egypt – and God is not interested in being kept in a house built by David.
In fact, God turns the tables on David.
God says, you want to build me a house? No, I’ll build you a house – a royal dynasty that will reign forever.
Later, of course, David’s son Solomon will build a spectacular house for God – the Jerusalem Temple.
And although the Temple and the sacrifices that took place there were the center of Jewish life for centuries, there was always some ambivalence, some unease, about the Temple.
Some of the prophets – and later, Jesus himself – will criticize the Temple – reminding people that, instead of slaughtering lots of animals, what God really wants is a sacrifice of the heart.
As God says through the Prophet Isaiah:
“…cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”
That’s the kind of sacrifice that God desires.
And our heart is the only house God wants.
Over the past week, I’ve had several conversations with parishioners who are understandably anxious about the state of our country and worried about where we’re headed.
And I’m right there with you.
And, I’m sure like a lot of you, I’ve been thinking about how we got here – and how we might heal some of our divisions, and soothe some of our anger, and calm some of our fears.
It seems to me that our country is suffering from a kind of spiritual heart disease.
Maybe it’s because of all our distracting gadgets, maybe it’s because we don’t really get to know each other anymore, I don’t know, but we seem to no longer care so much about each other – or, at least, that we don’t care about people who are different than we are, who believe different things, who see the world differently.
Instead, we assume the worst of each other.
We look for opportunities to score points – often cheap and dishonest shots - against the “other side.”
But this game is just a race to the bottom – a race with no winners at all.
Fortunately, we know the cure to spiritual heart disease.
In today’s lesson from the Gospel of Mark, we heard what happens before and after Jesus feeds the multitudes – the only miracle remembered in all four gospels – the miracle that we’ll hear about next week.
But what strikes me about what we heard today is that people are so hungry for Jesus – so hungry for Jesus that they follow him and his disciples into the wilderness – so hungry for healing that they brought their sick loved ones wherever he was – desperate for his healing touch.
I’m reminded of the people who come here after they’ve been away from the church for a while – the people come here for a funeral or on any given Sunday – the people who come here hungry for the Good Food – the people who hear the invitation to the Table and say yes.
We know the cure for spiritual heart disease – it’s offered here every Sunday.
We know the cure for spiritual heart disease – it’s offered here every week to anyone and everyone who is hungry.
We know the cure for spiritual heart disease – it’s taking Jesus into our bodies and souls – and, with God’s help, living lives of love and service.
We know the cure for spiritual heart disease – it’s welcoming God into our heart.
And our heart is the only house God wants.
Amen.
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