Scripture:
There are some passages in the Bible which are known to virtually all of you. The 13th chapter of Paul's letter to the Christians in Corinth is one of those passages. When we hear it read, it reminds us of the many contexts we've heard it -- mostly weddings. And the feeling we sometimes get is a little like coming home. Today's reading begins with verse 4:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant [5] or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; [6]it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. [7] It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.[8a] Love never ends.

When Christians gather, there is something in addition to our love for one another which regularly appears: it is our quarreling over various religious practices. This is true of every congregation, beginning with Paul's band of followers in Rome. As their spiritual guide, Paul is asked to resolve their conflicts. In responding, he avoids any specific advice that might tip the scales of the disputes. Instead, he reminds them all that as Christians, they belong to God. Hear this reminder from the 14th chapter of Paul's letter to the Christians in Rome, beginning with verse 5:

[5] Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds. [6] Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God. [7] We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. [8] If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. [9] For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living. [10] Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. [11] For it is written, "As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall give praise to God." [12] So then, each of us will be accountable to God.

Sermon:


Let me say at the outset that this sermon continues some of the groundwork which I laid last Sunday. Both of these sermons are important preparation for our Church Retreat, which you are all invited to attend, and for which you can sign up in the hall right after worship. And let me add that next Sunday, I will return to my usual focus and concentrate on unpacking the mystery of the Gospel.

As we were planning the beginning of this fall season of church events, a small debate arose which I would like to extend to those gathered here this morning. How many of you back in the churches in which you grew up had a Homecoming Sunday?

Perhaps you called it Rally Day, or Rally Sunday. Any hands?

So a few people know what a Homecoming Sunday is. How about in your schools -- did you have a Homecoming football game? Aha! The secularization of a once sacred concept.

Rev. Wile and I and a few others considered calling last Sunday or today "Homecoming Sunday" and in the process we realized that each of us had a different association with the term. Homecoming Sunday is a time when the people of the church come together to remember our home and recognize that home isn't just where we happen to live. Home is where we are loved. And as a community of faith, this is -- and must continually strive to be -- a home; not only for each and every one of us, but a home for anyone who might join us on any Sunday morning or at any other time during the week.

Now the question I want to ask today as we look ahead to a rich and stimulating church year is this: what makes home home? Particularly when we think of our church home, or better yet our spiritual home, what makes home home? Let me begin with a story which took place at my former church.

After I had been there about five years a family began to attend and came off and on for about a year and a half. I became friendly with the father of this family. I visited him at work, and we got to know each other rather well. But there was always an ambivalence in him... and finally he and his family stopped attending. So I screwed up my courage, gave him a ring, and I said to him, "Dave, why is it that you no longer come to our church? Is it that you found a different church that was better? Or is it that we did something wrong and offended you? You could really help us out by letting me in on the reasons for your decision." You know what he said? He said, "I don't come anymore because I'm looking for a congregation which reminds me of the congregation in which I grew up. I don't know if you consider that to be a good reason, but that's what I want for my children."

There's a little bit of each of us in that story, I think. Now let me tell you a related story about myself when I was younger. Those of you who were on the Pulpit search committee heard this -- but you didn't hear the end of it.

When I was 15 I moved to California. Since I had grown up in one church all my life (Methodist, by the way!) I figured I had better investigate some churches of other denominations. So I hopped on my bicycle (Yes, even then...) and rode around Sunday mornings to a variety of congregations. I would arrive early enough to go in and take a brief, self-guided tour around the nooks and crannies of the church. I would poke around the Narthex, and if I was early enough, I'd sneak into the Chancel, I'd investigate the Parlor, go down the hallways into the Sunday School area and so forth. And then finally I'd survey the sanctuary and pick a pew. During the Prelude, no matter what the church, I found myself revisiting the same thought. Regardless of the denominational affiliation, it always seemed that the furniture, the art work, the linoleum, the carpet, and even the smell of the Narthex and the Parlor -- all of these reminded me of my grandmother's home.

That was a long time ago, and I was a lonely kid, far from the only home I had known. But I think it's true that every single one of us wants our church to feel like home. And each of us is a little bit like that church visitor whose story I told a moment ago. For us, "home" often means the place in which we grew up. Our "spiritual home" often means the place where we first met God, or a place where everyone sings our favorite hymns -- and they sing them according to the right tune! (Which means, of course, the tune we sang them to, growing up in our home church.)

Now because we associate home so closely with our past, we quickly become upset if somebody starts messing around with the "furniture" in our home. Even our newest members who joined last month no doubt have already heard the controversy over the removal of the pews as part of our chapel renovation. And certainly everyone here this morning has noticed that there is something different about the sound quality here in the sanctuary. That is because today is the fist day we are using our new sound system. It is almost as if -- when changes are made in the church -- we feel that somebody is trying to rearrange our memory, or rewrite our history; or that somebody is messing with our heart.

But you see, there is a problem here. Too often we define church, or we define that "home quality" of church, in terms of things -- familiar material things. But is that really what a church home is about?

If you think so, then answer me this: Why is it -- and I bet every one of you has had this experience -- why is it we can travel across the state or across the country, and when the opportunity presents itself, we can enter a church, sit down amongst a congregation which we have never seen before, in which we know no one, and (not all the time, but sometimes) it feels like we're home?

* Is it just the smell?

* Is it that their bulletin uses the same typographical font as ours?

* Is it necessary that the choir sing a familiar anthem?

* Or does this only happen when we're in a church that also has peeling paint and a worn carpet?

Are these the reasons why that remarkable experience occurs when we go to a strange congregation and we don't feel like a stranger -- but feel at home?

Or is it because we immediately sense the presence of the Spirit of God and the love and acceptance that is bred by the Spirit of God among the people of God when that presence is evoked?

Hymnals will come and go. Ministers will come and go (and some people will say, "Thank God!"). Organs will age and be replaced. Translations of scripture will be refined. Plaster will fall from the ceiling. Stairs will make way for ramps. All of this and more will change. But as Paul tells us in the passage which Rev. Wile read a few moments ago: "Love never ends." Love never ends.

Truth be told: we have a tough time tapping into this. Relating to the reality that "Love never ends..." is not quite the same as debating whether we should have chairs or pews. In fact, sometimes we prefer to focus on the placement of the furniture, because it would be too painful to unveil the placement of our hearts. Unending love: when you have lived through some painful relationships -- as I have, and as many of you have -- it's hard to talk about unending love. So let me come at this from another way.

What I think homecoming is about -- and what I think being at home is about -- is feeling safe. Again and again the scriptures talk about freedom from fear. Freedom from fear is the consequence of being in the presence of God. When God is by our side, we feel safe. Now, familiar material surroundings can give us a feeling of freedom from fear -- a feeling of safety. But let me ask you this, and in particular, let me address those of you who have experienced the shock of coming home to find that your house had been broken into. What affected you the most? Invariably, people say that it's the feeling that they were violated; and then most people will jump to the issue of whether something personal was taken, not whether the furniture or a TV or something like that was taken (although those things effect us).

* But were the videotapes of my family trashed?

* Were my journals stolen?

* Did somebody take that photograph from the wall and smash it, the one that we got from our grandparents?

And ask any child whose parents are going through a tough time in their relationship and are quarreling with each other -- you ask her what home is all about. She will tell you plain and simple: home is love. Home isn't the material location. It's not being bought off by your dad or your mom in a transparent attempt to assuage you for the failing of their divorce. Home is love. That's what it's all about. And it's from that that we gain a sense of security which transcends physical boundaries.

Now, our tendency, I think, is to use what energy we have to maintain yesterday's status quo rather than making ourselves available to the excitement which results from discerning what is God's will for today and tomorrow. We need to understand something fundamental; we need to answer this question: to whom do we belong? To whom do we belong? And once again Paul offers a worthy response in the passage that we just heard -- "We are the Lord's."

Now that's the point I want to make today. And it can be made in a different way as well: Pastoral ministry can have prophetic consequences. I'd like you to really give this point some thought, because it applies to all of our lives. Pastoral ministry can have prophetic consequences.

* Now what do I mean by pastoral ministry? I'm talking about loving one another and I'm talking about love that extends beyond the boundaries of our congregation. That's pastoral ministry.

* And what does it lead people to? It leads people to participate in a reality that is beyond themselves.

Any time you love somebody -- you participate in a reality which is beyond yourself. You tie your future with the future of that person. It goes beyond the material world which holds us captive and makes us fearful. It transcends that. What we need to do is to increase our fluency in this transcendent realm. Because as we do, we realize that we co-inhabit that realm with God. And the way we experience this is not by maintaining the chairs in their right order, or the pictures on the wall. We experience it by paying attention to the love we share with one another, and discovering ways to grow in that love.

The ultimate goal of any congregation is to be faithful to God. We do this by means of love:

* manifest in our praise and service to God;

* Organized love, manifest in our decisions and conduct in our places of work;

* compassionate and disciplined love, manifest in our homes as we make the most we can out of each day.

Our love for one another and the world is a reflection of God's love for us. Many times a day, each of us is faced with the choice

* about whether to bend to the momentum of the world and invest ourselves in the status quo,
* or whether to place our security in the unknown places to which God is leading us.

And if church is truly a home, church is a place which builds our confidence through the experience of love -- and thus allows us, with courage, to move forward to wherever God is leading us.

I'd like to conclude this sermon by asking all of you to sing. What I have in mind is the last verse of "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," Hymn number 363. Before you begin, I just want to speak the words of this verse, and ask you to think about the last two lines in relation to what I have said this morning. "Let goods and kindred go, This mortal life also. The body they may kill. God's truth abideth still. God's kingdom is forever." Hymn number 363, the last verse. Let us stand.