Anniversaries invite us to look back and reflect on where we came from, so a few days ago I decided to open my file of Sophia Christi’s first Mass to see where things were seven years ago. That first Mass was also on a Saturday—August 25, 2007 in Portland, to be exact—and I was scrambling at the last minute to find a place for us to meet after our host Church became suddenly unavailable the day before.
On Thursday an article about my ordination had appeared in the Oregonian, and early Friday morning I got a call from the pastor of St. Andrew Episcopal Church letting me know the Episcopal Diocese had pulled the rug on our celebration scheduled the next day at his church. He was upset and apologetic, but felt he had to comply with the decision. I made a quick call to the Methodist pastor down the street who I’d worked with on a committee, met with her and members of her Council Friday afternoon, and they welcomed our fledgling community the next day with open arms. A line from my homily that day reads: “Walking in the ancient shoes of God’s people is never a straightforward hike over a well-worn trail. The journey requires us to remain open to surprise.”
There have been many blessings in this journey over the last seven years. YOU are a blessing! Many of you in Portland were there at that first Mass seven years ago, and many of you in Eugene were there at the first Mass in Eugene three months later. All of you continue to serve this community in so many ways—on the Parish Council, preparing the environment and the music, setting up and cleaning up after our meals, and giving your time to our outreach ministries at the St. Andrews Episcopal Food Pantry, the Eugene Celebration and our booths at Gay Pride in Portland and Eugene.
Over the years there have also been many challenges and surprises. We’ve had to adjust to changes in meeting spaces, and changes within our community as new people arrived, others left the area, Helen was ordained, and we incorporated the House Church in Battle Ground. A lot can happen in seven years! God is full of surprises!
All of our readings today contain the elements of journey and surprise. Elijah flees to Mt. Horeb (also known as Mt. Sinai) to escape the wrath of Queen Jezebel and is surprised by a God who comes to him not in the expected manifestations of wind, earthquake and fire, but in a frighteningly palpable, deep and inscrutable silence.
Likewise, something very new is happening for Paul as he travels the world of his time preaching about the Christ he met on the road to Damascus. He expected his people, the Israelites, to embrace the “Good News” he had to offer. They were God’s “chosen people” after all, the ones who had been promised a Messiah. Paul was intent on letting them know the Messiah had arrived. The ancient Covenant and Law were fulfilled. By and large they were having none of it. Time and again he watched his own people turn their backs on his message, while the Gentiles opened their minds and hearts to the “good news” he had to offer. He was filled with grief for his people as he watched them blindly throw away what he saw as their legacy.
You and I have watched this same thing happen as most mainline Christian denominations took to the changes brought about by the intentionally “Ecumenical” Council of Vatican II, while our own Church leaders backpedalled for decades after John the XXIII died. It was a tremendous loss of our own sacred legacy, and many of us still grieve.
Walking in the shoes of God’s chosen people is not a straightforward hike over a well-worn trail. Today we again see God doing something new and surprising in the person of Francis, our first Jesuit Pope. God is doing something new and surprising in Sophia Christi and in the many alternative communities of faith across our nation and around the world. Sometimes we feel hopeful and even excited when the new thing God is doing reflects our values or relieves our suffering. But what of those times when raging storms threaten our boat and we are at the mercy of terrifying forces over which we have no control? Times like today in the Middle East and so many other places in today’s world? What happens to faith in times like these? And do we believe God is still present when we ourselves are in the midst of terrifying circumstances?
The disciples of Jesus’ day were just like us. They were focused on everyday matters, taking care of details, running their fishing business, maintaining their boats. Jesus was constantly teaching them about the God he knew, a living God, a caring and loving God, who was present and engaged with their lives. And they, like us, heard his words and believed on some level, but when the rubber met the road they tended to forget all he’d ever taught them.
So here they are on yet another journey with Jesus who is, like God, full of surprises. He has sent them away in a boat after feeding 5,000 people and now they’re miles off shore. It’s the middle of the night and they are engulfed in a huge storm. With waves tossing the boat around like a tiny stick and water cascading over the sides, these frightened and bedraggled men watch as a ghostly figure walks toward them on the water! They must have thought death itself was coming to get them. Instead they hear Jesus’ voice telling them to have courage, to not be afraid. Peter wants proof. If it’s REALLY you, he says, tell me to come to you on the water!. “Come,” Jesus says. “Come.” “Don’t be afraid.”
Faith is all about seeing through the lens of the heart and trusting the God who beckons us forward, even when the ground is unstable or there’s nothing around us but water. That’s where we were 7 years ago as we embarked on forming community with nothing but a sidewalk in front of us and no plan for the future. We just followed God’s voice into the empty darkness and felt something solid under our feet. We took another step, then another, ‘til we arrived here seven years later!
I don’t know where we’re going. I’ll leave that to God. All I know is I’m grateful—grateful for you, my people, grateful for the mission and the vision we’ve been given, even when I’m not so clear about what either of them mean. I trust our God of surprises to continue challenging us, nurturing us and leading us forward into the great unknown where God is all there is. When we are THERE, in the unknown, we are HOME. That’s the paradox of human existence.
Living in faith then, is the daily practice of learning to walk on water. “Come,” Jesus says to us. “Come, Sophia Christi.” “Don’t be afraid.” I sent you out in this boat knowing the sea would threaten to engulf you. Don’t be afraid. Step onto the water, my loved ones. Come.
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