Mystic Congregational Church, UCC

Mystic, Connecticut

Sermon from February 20, 2005

“Instant Family”

Rev. Thomas Ratmeyer

Scriptures:

Genesis 12:1-4a

John 3:1-17

Julie and Michael, with Emma and Matthew, Trish, Jan, Gus, and Bea:  Today, we celebrate that you have officially become a part of our congregation.  We welcome you wholeheartedly.  We are excited about the gifts, the stories, the questions, and the faith that you bring to our family of faith.  Once more, let me say, “Welcome”.  This is a day of joy in the life of our church.

Two years and a few months ago, I drove one early evening to my girlfriend’s parents’ house.  After a short while of “hello” and “how are you”, I asked Heather’s dad if I could talk to him for a few minutes.  He led me into the next room.  Did he know what was coming or did he expect some boat-related question or me asking him a favor about fixing up the house in New London, I don’t know.  When I asked him whether it was alright if I married his daughter, he smiled, turned around, and brought me a scotch.  To this day, I don’t know whether that drink was for celebration or because he thought I needed it. 

I love the fact that I married into a family—with Heather’s children, Heather’s parents, and three sisters nearby each with a family of their own.  My own family of origin is in Germany connected by phone and e-mail, obviously, but still quite a ways away.  So, imagine my joy at sitting at a Thanksgiving or Christmas table with thirteen others whose stories I don’t fully know yet, but who I can call any day, and stop by and feel our lives have become intertwined.  If you can imagine, it was a relatively quick transition from a single expatriate to a family man with three cats and a dog. 

There’s nothing quite like joining a congregation.  It’s different from joining a social club.  It’s different from enrolling in an educational institution.  It’s different from signing up for a political action committee, and different from entering group therapy even if it has a little bit of all those things.  Maybe, the best analogy for joining a family of faith is, indeed, joining a family, period.  Many of the people with whom you are now joined in a covenant relationship, people you might pray for and they pray for you, people you might serve with on a committee, people next to you in the choir and in the pews—they are intimate strangers.  We have in common a journey of faith not unlike that of Abraham in Genesis; a journey to which God has called us, to a place yet unknown; a journey that will challenge some of our preconceived notions, but a journey that ultimately brings us home.

John’s Gospel, our second scripture reading, tells the story of Nicodemus.  It is the story of a New Members’ Class in its own right.  Nicodemus is a Pharisee and a member of the Jewish ruling class, a member of the ruling council.  He chooses to come to Jesus, not in daytime.  But, instead, at night so that the others don’t see him.  He comes with what I think is a remarkable pronouncement.  He says, “We (and I think he speaks for the other Pharisees) know that you are a teacher who has come from God for no one can do these things that you do, but in the presence of God.”  That sounds like a validation of Jesus’ ministry, doesn’t it?  Jesus has turned water into wine.  Jesus has performed a number of miracles that are not talked about any more specifically than that.  But Jesus has also gone to the temple and overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the temple—probably not something the Pharisees were all that excited about.  Nevertheless, this one comes to him and says, “We know you’re a teacher from God.” 

The Pharisees have seen Jesus’ miracles, and now they’re convinced.  But (this is the second remarkable piece about this announcement), Jesus doesn’t accept it.  He says, “Seeing is believing’ is not enough for me.”  This sounds similar to what he says to Thomas much later (the doubting Thomas who, after Jesus’ resurrection, wanted to put his fingers into the wounds and see for himself that this is really the one who was on the cross and is resurrected).  Jesus says, “Blessed are those who don’t see, and yet believe.”  This is how Jesus continues, “Very truly, I tell you.  No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”  “Born from above” in the Greek is the same as “born again”—that’s a legitimate translation.  One talks about the direction and a place (born from above); one talks about a time (born again, born anew).

I want to take it up today with that notion of being born again.  Nicodemus has a problem with that pronouncement of Jesus because he can’t imagine it.  One cannot logically return to one’s mother’s womb, and then be born again, if only for the reason that one is not the size of a baby anymore.  But we already know that Nicodemus operates on the basis of what can be seen.  He operates on the basis of the empirical, and the scientific.  Jesus says, “Quite to the contrary.  To be born from above is to be born from the spirit.”  It is not in fact a physical rebirth, but a spiritual one.  “The spirit is like the wind,” he says right then and there.  The wind blows where it chooses.  You can hear it, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it’s going.  So is it with every one who’s born from the spirit.  The Greek language, again, makes for wordplay here because “wind” and “spirit” are the same word.

There are parts of the Christian tradition that make being born again the entry point of life as a true child of God and a disciple of Christ.  They distinguish between those who are born again, and those who are not.  Somehow, those who are not are not quite as committed, they presume, as followers of Christ.  I have two problems with those traditions.  I will share them with you.

For one:  in these traditions, it is the believer who determines the time when he/she accepts Jesus Christ as his/her Lord and Savior.  So, at the time that the believer chooses here, he/she comes forward and becomes born again.  This is clearly in absolute opposition to what Jesus just said about the Spirit moving in its own direction, and at its own time.  If John’s Gospel is right, then we have no control over when the Spirit captivates our hearts.  We have no control over when the Spirit inhabits our hearts and makes us children of God.

My second problem is the once-and-for-all nature of this idea of being born again, as if we only needed one time of the Spirit being with us, and then it would be done from then on.  We think of faith as a journey.  We’ve talked about that in membership class with an understanding that our beliefs evolve and grow and change overtime.  How can I think that the Spirit will grab hold of me only once in a significant way?  I’d rather think that if the Spirit blows where it wants, that for us to have a new life, a new birth in the Spirit, it can happen anytime.  In fact, it happens more than once and it’s an ongoing event.

Now, Nicodemus, who had started the conversation with the words “we know”, has a hard time following Jesus’ explanation.  There might just be the greatest obstacle to us encountering the Spirit that we think we know.  We presume we already know what to expect, and as soon as we think we know what faith can do for us, as soon as we join a congregation with a set expectation of what that’s going to do us for us and what we can do there, we limit at the same time the possibilities of the Holy Spirit.

That’s a reminder for long-standing members and for new members alike:  that as soon as we think we know what to expect, we limit the freedom and the opportunities of the Holy Spirit.  You may not consider yourself a youth leader; but, gosh, see what happens when you try.  You may not consider yourself a public speaker; but preach a sermon on a Saturday and find out how meaningful it can be for you and for the congregation that you share your faith journey in that way.  Chair a committee even though you think you have no talent for organization.  Pray at someone’s bedside because Parish Care has made you part of their ministry.  Then, stand at these doors and welcome a stranger.  Do it with pride.  Do it with the sense that you belong here and you want that person to belong here as well. 

Belonging to a congregation always entails more than you expect from it.  There are nights when you come to a committee meeting, and you’re tired.  It’s the last thing you want to do.  You go there thinking, “Well, hopefully, it’s not going to last too long.  Tonight, I’m just going to listen.  I’m not going to say much.”  Then, it happens to be the night when you have the most meaningful conversation in a long time.  Somebody says something that touches you deep in your heart.  You find you’re together with a group of people that care deeply about these same things that are going on in your life, and you do it in the name of faith, in the name of the Holy Spirit.

Of course, pastors are more in danger of coming to this whole thing with the notion that we know, and, therefore, limiting ourselves from the opportunities and the promises of the Holy Spirit.  We’re the worst.  The New Yorker published a cartoon where God sits on the throne on the cloud, and through the cloud pops up this studious-looking guy, and God goes, “Oh, another theologian.  They’re always fun.”

  Being a part of this congregation means having instant family, a gathering of intimate strangers whose stories are intertwined with that of Mystic Congregational Church.  As we grow and change, the church grows and changes through us and with us.  As the church changes and evolves, so do we.  I invite you to commit yourselves to the full participation in the church.  You can expect your faith to claim the whole of your lives in ways that you would have never expected.

May the Spirit that blows where it wants bless and guide our journey together.  Amen.