Who are we?
Welcome
Community
People
Families and Kids
History

What do we do?
Worship
Sermons
Music
Other Activities

What's Happening?
Events
Newsletter

What else do I need to know?
Location
Contact Us
Glossary
Links

Sermons

Sunday September 3, 2006 - Proper 17, Year B

Today we've had
one of the stranger selections of hymns for the summer. As you know
we use the summer months to vary our music by inviting parishioners to submit their favorite hymns
and then we draw them out of a basket
to choose the hymns each week.
What that means
is that unlike the rest of the years
when Edie and I choose hymns that relate to the readings for the day
and the season of the church year,
in summer time
we sing whatever people have chosen.
And this week, by some bizarre coincidence,
three of the five hymns
are Christmas carols.

And although it might seem a little odd to be singing about the bleak midwinter
in early September,
singing Christmas carols out of season
got me to thinking.
Because sometimes it seems
that by the time December 25 rolls around
we've forgotten what it's all about.
We're frantic
trying to get the gifts bought, wrapped and distributed,
we've been to enough parties to last us a lifetime, it feels,
and if we hear Silent Night another time over the store loudspeaker system
we'll be obliged to find someone to strangle.
There are family events demanding our presence
and kids who seems to be permanently juiced up on red food coloring.
And somehow, in the middle of it
the reason for it gets kind of lost.
We know the stories — at least we who go to church make sure our kids know about Jesus and the manger as well as Rudolph and Santa —
but sometimes we forget the story behind the story.
The story about a God
who became incarnate, who became like one of us,
and whose presence in our world
changed things forever.

Sometimes I wonder
if we moved the church's celebrations of the Nativity of Christ
to another day, say September 3,
would anyone notice?
Or would Christmas keep on being celebrated as it is,
an occasion for beautiful decorations,
for conspicuous consumerism,
and family gatherings and fights?
Would it be any different
if the religious celebration that was its beginning
were taken out of the picture?

Or maybe another way to think about it is this. What difference would it make for us
if we were to celebrate the birth of Christ
without all the commercial trappings?
Is it just a pretty story?
Or is it something else?
Does this Christianity thing
make a difference?

And that's really the question that James is asking
in the letter we heard read from this morning in our second reading.
James — and we're not really sure which James it was — but James, whowver he is, is asking,
You say you believe in this Jesus business,
but does it make any difference
in how you live?

And that's how why he says what he says in this morning's reading,
and says it again and again and again. Be doers of the word
and not only hearers.
Because from James' perspective
it's not enough
to just agree with the story.
Anyone can do that. What he wants to see, what he understands God to demand
is that the people who call themselves followers of Jesus
actually live as if that following
makes a difference.
He wants them to recognize
that they are the best evidence of the truth of Christ that there is,
and if the truth of Christ doesn't make a difference, then they are evidence
of nothing at all.
So how does he get there?

James
is into practical advice. He launches straight in. No beating about the bush, no long prayerful preludes or theological treatises like in the letters of Paul. He introduces himself, says hello, and then gets on with business.

If you face trials, remember that they'll help you grow.
If you need wisdom, ask for it.
Wealth will disappear.
If you're tempted and don't give in, God will bless you. But if you give in, the result will not be good. Be warned.

No beating around the bush, no dressing it up in flowery language. I imagine James as a kind of good hearted but rough kind of guy. There's no nonsense here. Shape up or ship out. If you believe, act like it. If you don't act like it, then maybe you don't really believe.
He even goes so far as to say,
it's one thing to think yourself religious;
but if you don't act like it,
your religion is worthless.

They are hard words. But James is talking to people
who are tempted to take on the outward signs of being Christian
without really following Christ in their hearts.
It's like celebrating Christmas
and ignoring Christ.

Of course, that's what most people do in our society. In the US, particularly here on the east coast and in the south,
most people still think of themselves as Christian simply by virtue
of being born in what most people think of as "a Christian country."
But according to James
that's not enough. It's not enough
to say you believe
but then acts as you have always acted.
It's kind of like, if you signed your kid up for soccer
and they wore their uniform around,
but you never actually got round to getting them to the games, let alone practice.
Saying you're a Christian
but not actually living like it, according to James
is like that.

And so he urges his hearers
to be doers of the word, not just listeners.
To act like they actually say they believe, not just say it.

And so he advises them
to be quick to listen
to be slow to speak
to be slow to anger.
And then, not just to listen
but to act,
to act in accordance with the word of God,
to live like
the life and death of Jesus
has made a difference.
And they will be blessed.

This week
I called by a monastery for noonday prayer.
Walking into the building
I was struck by the set-apartness of it all.
The chapel was divided into two areas, one for the general public, and one, divided off by a wrought iron gate
for the monks and their guests.
At the front
was a simple altar, with a crucifix hung over it,
and a large vase of sunflowers.
Ten minutes before the service was to begin,
one of the monks came and opened the gate
inviting us to join them inside.
And so we prayed together,
and afterwards one of them came over
and invited me to join them for lunch.
Some of them work in publishing, others work with students,
or prisoners, or people living with HIV/AIDS.
If it weren't for their black habits, you wouldn't even notice them in the street.
But they have made a decision
to live
what they believe. They live
like the life and death of Jesus
has made a difference.

And that's our calling too. We're not called, most of us, to live a monastic life, with its habit as a sign of being set apart —
as attractive as it may seem in those times when our lives are particularly chaotic.
But we are called, each and every one of us,
to live as if the life and death of Christ has made a difference.
Christ came and lived among us
to show us what God is like, to show us that God cares
about every part of our lives,
every part of our world.
Christ came and died
to offer us forgiveness
and a life of friendship
with God.
Christ came
and invites us
to invite him
into every part
of our lives.
It's not just what we believe. It's how we live.

It shows in our priorities.
If we can find time to read the newspaper,
maybe we can find time to pray.
If we can find time to get our kids to soccer practice,
maybe we can find time to get our kids to church.

It shows in our choices.
If we can find money to belong to a gym
maybe we can find money to support the church.
If we can find money for a coffee at Starbucks
maybe we can find money to give someone in need a meal.

It shows in our lives.
If we are careful of the language we use in front of our kids,
maybe we can be careful of the language we use all the time;
if we teach our kids to be gentle and kind,
maybe we can work at being gentle and kind ourselves.

The point isn't to be nice moral people, the point is
to live as if
the life and death of Christ has made a difference. Because in the end
we, ordinary Christians, are the best evidence
of the existence of God,
the power of God
to make a difference. And of course,
it's not just as if.
Christ's life and death
has made a difference.
We are forgiven,
we are loved,
we are given the strength
to live as Christ's ambassadors in this world.

Because Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Allelluia.

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2006