The North is the South
The North is
the South
Rob Gieselmann,
Advent 2B, December 10, 2017
Have you ever
noticed that some things at Ascension seem
backwards? Entering the “Old Transept”, from the offices, a sign on the door tells
you that you are entering the South
Transept. Thing is, this “South Transept” is located on the north side of
the building. The South Transept, you see, is called the north transept, the south transept is by corollary called
the north transept. Similarly, the altar faces west, yet we pretend that it faces
east. We call this, “liturgical east”, because
in the old days, churches were built facing east, in anticipation of Christ’s
return.
Also - the
front of the church - have you noticed? – faces the back of the property, rather
than the front. The front should be streetside, not the back. The back is front, and the front is back. The
last shall be first, and the first shall last. Ascension’s actual address - is
800 South Northshore. South Northshore – if not ironic, the address is at least
oxymoronic. Crazy, I know, but so much of Ascension is crazy.
You people are the
craziest!
You seem to think
being Christian requires you to provide housing to homeless families. That being
Christian means you feed hungry people. Family Promise, and FISH? And, as it
turns out, you have a penchant for social justice and demand fairness from your
government - Just this last year you asked the police to stop the long-time
practice of treating mentally ill people as criminals. Justice Knox.
But you don’t
stop there, do you? You are crazy in other ways, too – At Bible studies, you actually
study the Bible. At prayer meetings you actually pray. The Brotherhood of St. Andrew
really is about brotherhood. And, as
thinking Christians, you ask questions. Both out of curiosity and as challenging.
Question first, and if you get good answers, well, that’s icing on the cake.
But, perhaps you’re
not as far out in right field – or is it
left field? as one might think. Perhaps, just perhaps, acting in opposition is God’s way. God’s very
strange way of behaving. When you point yourself in one direction, God turns you
in another direction.
With God, south
may be north and north may be south. And Messiah is not the conquering hero
that people expected, but a suffering servant. Suffering servant – a man who suffers the pain of the entire world,
who shoulders not only the pain you carry, but the pain of this entire church. Who
holds it more deeply than you do, and more viscerally than I do.
Advent is not
just a Season of waiting – but of longing. Pining, desiring desperately – not the
kissing of righteousness and peace that the psalmist spoke of, but hope and
desperation together in desirous embrace. And you and I are Advent people when
we become desperate – for grace.
Of-course, everybody
hopes for better things in life – better health, a good job, better education –
Advent is not about these hopes, but about messianic
salvation.
Salvation
amidst desperation. Hope amidst suffering. Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it this way:
The celebration of Advent is possible only
to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect,
and who look forward to something greater to come.
How desperate
are you?
I am reminded here
of the parable Jesus once told – the one about the tax gatherer and the
Pharisee, the sinner and the saint, praying side by side at the same altar rail,
yet miles apart. The sinner beat his chest and cried out to God, Have Mercy on Me, for I am a sinner. While
the saint folded his hands neatly and said, Thank
you God that I am not like that fellow over there.
Do you need
Advent? Do you need a servant to bear your suffering? And if you don’t, then
why are you in church, anyway? The people snaked their way in long lines down to
the Jordan River to be baptized by John because they needed Advent. The air was
dry, the people were dirty. And they hoped John’s bath would cleanse their
dusty souls.
Theirs was not
mere individual repentance, like some evangelical altar call at a Baptist
church. Theirs was the repentance of an entire body of people. Collective
repentance, not just for life’s foibles, but for the sin of the nation, Israel.
Not, I have sinned, but we have sinned, and
there is no health in us.
We’re in this
together. You and me, and me and you, for personal complicity is rendered irrelevant
when it comes to corporate sin. But this is the thing: you and I - we’re good
people – You know – we’re good people. I once heard someone describe church
people this way: Church people are good people trying to do better.
I have proof of
your goodness – the wonderful exercises of faith evident here at Ascension. And
I want to leave you proud of who you are, and what we’ve accomplished these
past several years.
·
dogs
in church
·
and
farmers’ market Sundays
·
flexible
worship with creative liturgies
·
silence
with hundreds of people in one room, without so much as the noise of a pin
dropping
·
eating
the last supper in church, on Maundy Thursday
·
open
discussions about racism
·
full
inclusion of all people, adding same sex marriage to the mix
·
financial
stability with a plan for repayment of debt – thank you, Andy and Matt.
·
legacy
society and a responsible endowment – thank you, Venice.
·
Almost
a new nursery – thank you, Bob Sowell.
·
a
new and meaningful relationship with St. Luke’s
These are the
things we’ve done – the collective us. But
I’m acutely aware that all sin is, at its heart, is fractured relationship. Fractured
relationship among good people trying to be better. But – with a little Advent longing
and desperation – Well - desperation is something a Messiah can work with.
Fractured
relationship – that is something a Messiah can work with. And if I know
anything, I know this: Messiah Jesus is not yet finished with us. Not you, and
not me.
So remember: Sometimes
the north is the south and the south is the north, the front the back, and
salvation comes from the place you least expect it.
Thank you. For
the privilege of serving you.
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