Tag Archives: membership

Sermon – Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23, P17, YB, September 1, 2024

04 Wednesday Sep 2024

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Before I became a priest, I served as a Director of Volunteer services at a Habitat for Humanity affiliate.  In my training as a volunteer manager, I learned that one of the most important things about recruiting someone to a volunteer position was clarity about what one was asking from a volunteer.  If they were going to serve on a committee, how long was the commitment, how frequently would they meet, what work would be expected, and how was leadership structured were all details they should have.  If they were going to work on site, what training was expected or would be provided, what age restrictions existed, what risks would they undertake, and how their day would be structured were important details before a workday.  If they had a group event, they needed to know how many volunteers could be on site, what hours they needed to commit to, and what happened in inclement weather.  By the end of my tenure, every volunteer position had a position description outlining expectations, qualifications, and rewards.

So, imagine my transition to the priesthood and realizing how poorly the Episcopal Church had defined membership.  The very first time someone asked me (and every time since then), I dread the question, “So what do I need to do to become a member of this church?”  The Episcopal Church does a notoriously poor job of defining membership.  Our commitment to professing “All are welcome!” seems to translate into no defining characteristics of membership.  “How do I join your church?” should be one of the easiest questions there is.  And yet, when I talk to new members, the answer has to be two-fold:  the technical answer (as long as you attend three services a year and are a financial contributor, you’re considered a member – the answer from the wider Episcopal Church which I loathe!), and the more practical answer we have crafted here at Hickory Neck:  you fill out a form, you commit to supporting the church financially, you commit to feeding yourself (through study, prayer, regular worship), and you commit to feeding others (through giving your time to the church and to the wider community on behalf of the church). 

Our gospel lesson today seems to be wading through a similar lack of clarity.  The Pharisees and scribes are totally perplexed by how some of Jesus’ disciples are not washing their hands before eating – a totally valid concern in these days of post-pandemic!  But handwashing was not just about hygiene.  The ritual washing of hands was about identity, or “membership” as we understand membership today.  The Jews of this time are in an “oppressed minority, living in an occupied land.”  Their question is asked with the backdrop of colonialism, cultural and religious diversity, and competing claims on identity.[i]    Their question is both simple and complex:  why aren’t the disciples living like members of our community? 

For many a reader of this text, all sorts of erroneous conclusions have been drawn – primarily the anti-Semitic understanding that the laws of the Jews are superseded by laws of Jesus.[ii]  But that is not what is happening in this text.  Jesus does not have any issue with ritual cleansing:  he of all people understands the expectations of following God.  But Jesus is saying something more nuanced about identity and membership.  Jesus is saying that no matter how we traditionally mark ourselves as “other,” even if something is “the way we’ve always done it,” what is more important is how we live our faith.  So, if we are doing all the right things:  washing our hands the right way, bowing or genuflecting at all the right times, crossing ourselves when we’re supposed to, saying “Amen” during the sermon – or avoiding saying “Amen” during the sermon – none of that matters if our insides are defiled.  As Jesus quotes from Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”[iii] 

Today’s invitation is to ponder what membership in this body of faith means.  Are we honoring Jesus with our lips, but our hearts are far from Jesus?  Are we following the external “rules” but fostering evil intentions in our heart?  Have we filled out the membership form but neglected our work of feeding ourselves and feeding others?  Our work this week is making sure that when we go out into the world to love and serve the Lord – the dismissal that the we agree to every week – that we love and serve the Lord in ways that show people Christ through our words and actions; that as the political season ramps up, we ensure we are not defiling the dignity of any human being with our lips; and that when we talk about how much we love this church on the hill, we do so in a way that does not mask our individual struggles with avarice, deceit, slander, pride, and folly.  Telling the world you are a proud member of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is just fine – and something I hope you do on a regular basis.  But our invitation from scripture today is to be clear with others that, as that old tune says, “He’s still working on me,” is also a part of membership in the body of Christ – perhaps the most appealing one that draws others into a desire for membership too.  Amen. 

[i] Debie Thomas, “True Religion,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2944 on August 30, 2024.

[ii] Idea suggested by Matt Skinner on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#799: 14th Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 22B) – Aug. 29, 2021,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/799-14th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-22b-aug-29-2021 on August 28, 2024.

[iii] Mark 7.6b.

Sermon – John 10.11-18, E4, YB, April 21, 2024

01 Wednesday May 2024

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In a few moments, we will baptize Abby and Laela, sisters who are ages 6 and 7 respectively.  What’s interesting about a baptism for candidates who are not infants is there is much more cognition, curiosity, and craving.  In a sense, Abby and Laela understand more profoundly that their baptism is a sacrament of belonging – a welcoming into full membership in the body of Christ.  One of Hickory Neck’s strongest gifts is the powerful gift of welcome.  You talk to any newer or longer-term member, and they will likely tell you that Hickory Neck’s warm welcome was what drew them in and made them linger.  There was a sense of inclusion and care that made them want to stay.

For a community so skilled in welcoming and especially as a community who will be welcoming Abby and Laela today, we hear a powerful word from John’s gospel about life with the Good Shepherd.  For people familiar with the lectionary, the fourth Sunday of Easter, affectionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, is a favorite Sunday.  Every year on this Sunday we hear about Jesus’ proclamation of being the Good Shepherd.  This year’s text from John tells us how Jesus the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; how Jesus will protect the sheep; how he knows the sheep and the sheep know him; and that there are other sheep that do not even belong to the fold that Jesus will bring into the beloved fold.  When we hear a text like this, we get a warm-fuzzy feeling[i] – the kind of feeling of protected belonging that we want Abby and Laela to always feel with Jesus and the church community.  That feeling of care and belonging has inspired artwork, song, liturgies, and sermon alike.  This Good Shepherd Sunday reminds all of us of what inspired us to keep coming back to this modern incarnation of the Good Shepherd’s fold here at Hickory Neck.

The challenge about the warm-fuzzies that come with belonging is that chasing a sense of belonging can become consumeristic:  a pursuing of a feeling that is received without any expectation of reciprocity.  The pursuit of belonging makes sense.  As one scholar suggests, “Forming authentic and holistic community is hard work – we dole out parts of ourselves in stingy bits and pieces, avoid being vulnerable with each other, hold back our feelings and thoughts, are afraid to confront each other, judge each other without mercy, hold grudges, set impossibly high standards for ourselves and each other…We have a difficult time trusting each other,” making real and life-giving community hard.[ii]  But belonging with Jesus and within the faith community is not something that is just received.  Belonging comes with obligation.  No longer are we individuals feeling alone – now we are a part of a larger whole.  Though beautiful, that whole does not work without each of its members.  Receiving the warm-fuzzy feeling of belonging results in the action of giving:  of contributing in your own right to the community.[iii]    

The good news is that although we use language about welcome at Hickory Neck, we actually mean belonging.  Yes, we were likely greeted warmly, maybe given a welcome gift or sent a greeting by mail soon after our first visit, and often we were recognized and engaged after the service or at Coffee Hour.  But I cannot tell you the number of people at Hickory Neck who have also told me about how accessible involvement and even leadership are here.  From stories of being recruited to lead Fall Festivals within the first year of membership, to hopping in as an usher or reader, to being invited to a Bible Study, service opportunity, or a Foyer Group, to becoming a financial supporter of programming:  you are not just welcomed here – you are invited into belonging here.  Though we may not use the strong word of “obligation” or “responsibility,” we teach through our behavior that warm welcome means full membership in the body of Christ.  We join in not because we have to, but because the warmth of the Good Shepherd’s inclusion of all overwhelms us into wanting to give back – both here inside these walls and outside these walls in the wider community.

And that is what we have been teaching Abby and Laela about baptism.  Today, as the water is poured over their heads and the oil rubbed into their foreheads, they will be welcomed into full membership in the body of Christ.  And even though age six and seven might seem too young for the “obligations of membership in the body,” we need their gifts just as much as they need the gift of belonging.  So, when they bring forward the communion elements, or participate in Godly Play, or join in singing and song, they make our community complete.  They remind us of the broadness of God’s inclusion, the power of being known, and the resultant discipleship that springs out of all of us – no matter size, age, or ability.  Today, the Good Shepherd welcomes Abby and Laela into the fold – into the body of Christ.  Today, Abby and Laela invite us to renew our sense of belonging in that same fold and all that belonging entails.  And for that, we give thanks to God.  Amen.

[i] As described by Matt Skinner, on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#961: Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 21, 2024,” April 14, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/961-fourth-sunday-of-easter-april-21-2024 on April 18, 2024.

[ii] Barbara J. Essex, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 451.

[iii] As described by Karoline Lewis, on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#961: Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 21, 2024,” April 14, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/961-fourth-sunday-of-easter-april-21-2024 on April 18, 2024.

Sermon – Matthew 22.1-14, P23, YA, October 15, 2023

20 Friday Oct 2023

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I cannot count the number of times I have had some variation of the dream.  The procession has started and I am not vested yet.  I run into the vesting room, only to be unable to find my alb and cincture.  Of course, I could grab one of the hundreds of albs in the vesting room but they are either too long or too short.  If I somehow manage to run into church vested, usually the service has begun without me.  And sure enough, when I look at the pulpit, my sermon is nowhere to be found.  Before I was a priest, the nightmares were about a test for a class I have not attended all semester, or a classroom I cannot find, or a mystery locker that has books I need.  We all have them – or at least I hope I am not the only one!  I have heard of church musician nightmares about unpracticed pieces of music or music missing from the music stand.  And, of course, there is the classic nightmare of showing up to an important event without your clothes.

So, in our gospel lesson, when the person who was not originally invited to the wedding banquet because he did not have enough social capital is put on the spot in front of everyone by an agitated and somewhat violent host about not wearing the right garment, our anxiety levels and sense of injustice soar.  What if he did not own a wedding garment?  Maybe he was too poor to have one.  Maybe he did not know the social mores of fancy banquets.  Surely God does not cast us out with no regard for human dignity.  Isn’t that what Jesus is all about – loving and welcoming all?!?

Truth be told, this whole parable is one of those awful parables we wish we could skip or at least skim until we reach something more palatable.  With the Holy Land crumbling into violence and suffering, the last thing I wanted to read about this week was of entitled invitees to the king’s wedding feast violently mistreating messengers from the king and the retaliatory destruction and burning of the city.  And then, when the seemingly guilty parties have done to them what they did to others, the king cannot seem to contain his anger, and lashes out at a seemingly innocent man about not wearing the right garment, even though he had very little time to prepare for the afterthought invitation to the banquet.  In what has been a week of violence, particularly violence against civilians on all sides, the last thing I wanted to hear this morning was more violence from our gospel lesson. 

If we are going to tackle this seemingly awful parable, we are going to have to step back to see what is happening.  First, as scholar Yung Suk Kim explains, “a parable is not intended for literal interpretation…  For example, while the king is like God in some sense, he is not the same as God.  Likewise, his son is not Jesus.  His slaves who went out to call the invited guests are not prophets, and invited guests are not Israel.  The king’s violent response is not the same as the fall of Jerusalem.  Allegorical interpretation is not wrong [with parables] but has limitations…  Indeed, the allegorical interpretation cannot explain the complexities in the parable of the wedding banquet.”[i]

Second, despite our ability to remove immediate comparisons of God to the violent king, Matthew does say the kingdom of God is like this parable.  So, there is some learning, even in the uncomfortable casting out of the man who shows up at the party in the wrong garb – fulfilling every anxiety dream we have ever had.  When we hear those harsh words, many called, but few are chosen, we finally understand the “so what?” of all this violence and seeming overactions.  Karoline Lewis explains, “…many are called but few are chosen indeed.  The chosen are the ones who realize that just showing up is not enough anymore.  The chosen are the ones who insist that mere acquiescence, week after week, day after day, to doctrine and dogma will not stand the test of what it means to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world.  The chosen are the ones who believe that a God who is Immanuel might very well stake a claim on their own humanity.  And, the chosen are the ones who understand that the time for bringing about the Kingdom of Heaven is now — not later, not tomorrow, not someday, but now.”[ii]

Today’s language is violent and somewhat despondent.  And although that may not be literally applied to God, this text comes with consequences.  Today’s text reminds us that RSVPing to church, and showing up to consume comfort and reassurance is not the totality of membership in the body of Christ.  Showing up in this community means being gifted the clothing of discipleship – clothing we will put on every week.  We are always welcome in these chairs and on our YouTube channel.  And, to belong here means to take on the clothing of discipleship.  As Lewis says, we can no longer don the clothing of “complacency, conformity, and any kind of garb that is content with the way things are.”  Today we are invited to put on “…the kind of compassion, birthed by God’s own righteousness, that cannot, anymore, leave things the way they are.”[iii] 

But no need to worry about a new anxiety dream.  If you forget your clothing of discipleship, we have that clothing ready for you every Sunday.  That is why in stewardship season, so many of us are generous with our gifts of time, talent, and treasure – because we know how precious the gift of that weekly garb is.  We know the feeling of coming to church weary, downtrodden, and tired, and we also know the feeling of leaving church empowered and invigorated to slip on that gown of discipleship anew for the coming week.  Hickory Neck is the place we come to every week to join in the communal feast.  And Hickory Neck is the place where that weekly feast emboldens us to feed others.  There is no casting out into the outer darkness from these doors – not without the garb of discipleship we are gifted with from this place of nourishment and belonging.  Amen.

[i] Yung Suk Kim, “Commentary on Matthew 22:1-14,” October 15, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-28/commentary-on-matthew-221-14-9 on October 12, 2023.

[ii] Karoline Lewis, “What Not To Wear,” October 8, 2017, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/what-not-to-wear on October 12, 2023.

[iii] Lewis.

Sermon – John 13.31-35, Acts 11.1-18, E5, YC, May 15, 2022

25 Wednesday May 2022

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Every three years, the entire Episcopal Church gathers for what is called General Convention.  Eight lay and ordained people from every diocese in the Episcopal Church and all the bishops gather in two houses to pass legislation that will govern the whole of the church.  Issues range widely, from authorizing new liturgies, to promoting social justice issues, to human resources issues for clergy and lay staff, to who will guide and govern the church.  One topic that is coming around again this year is whether the Episcopal Church should remove the baptism requirement for the reception of Holy Eucharist.  Even though practices range pretty widely, technically the canons of the Episcopal Church reserve communion for those who have been baptized.  The issue is highly contested, has been written about widely, and I could spend a whole hour teaching on this topic.  At the heart of the debate are issues of belonging, identity, hospitality, and evangelism.

 As I have watched some of the initial debate heat up in the Episcopal Church, I marvel at how, as much as the Church has changed over the years, much remains the same.  After Jesus’ ascension, and as the disciples and apostles began to spread the Good News far and wide, Peter and the other disciples begin to debate the issue of membership – whether uncircumcised Gentiles could become full members of the body of Christ without being circumcised.  In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear the story of how the apostles call Peter in and question his fellowship with uncircumcised Gentiles.  Peter launches into a story about a vision he had and what God said to him about “membership” in the body of Christ.  After hearing Peter’s testimony, there is silence.  The weight of such a change hovers in the silence – issues of belonging, identity, hospitality, and evangelism hanging in the air.

So much about this story today is human.  Time and time again, from the beginning of time, we have debated who is in and who is out.  There are benign ways and malicious ways of defining those boundaries, but ultimately those boundaries help us know who we are so we understand who we are not.  We agree to a set of behaviors and activities every time we reaffirm our baptisms.  Clubs and civic groups have criteria for admitting members.  Colleges have criteria for who can be a student, and what can get you expelled.  Even retirement communities have rules about what age you can be before you can move into the community.  But the malicious ones are trickier.  Redlining is a practice that has kept people of certain races and ethnicities from owning homes in certain areas.  Women are unable to serve as ministers in certain faith traditions.  LGBTQ identifying individuals were denied the same spousal rights and parenting rights as straight individuals.  The question becomes how do we define who we are and what we are about without harming or maligning others?

Some have argued Jesus gives us the answer in John’s gospel today.  Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  The instructions sound simple enough.  Our Presiding Bishop preaches nothing but the gospel of love.  But the instruction to love one another so people will know we are disciples does not make the issue of membership simple.  I love my Jewish and Muslim brothers and sisters but that does not make them Christian any more than their love of me makes me Jewish or Muslim.  I remember in seminary an interfaith dialogue between our Episcopal Dean and a Muslim leader in the community.  When they were establishing the ground rules for the conversation, the Muslim leader said, “We both enter into this conversation with deep respect for one another.  But for either of us to say that we are not trying to recruit the other would be a lie.  Of course I want you to become a Muslim:  I would not be a good Muslim if I did not think being a Muslim was the right path.  The same is true for you.  If you are not trying to convert me, I would wonder about the ferocity of your faith.”

What the texts do today is invite us into a challenging space.  By telling us to love one another, Jesus is not telling us that love denies who we are.  Likewise, by the disciples arguing about who can be Christians and who cannot, and coming to a conclusion that the Holy Spirit is doing something new does not mean that the disciples are diminishing their identity or the identity of the community.  Peter does not water down the gospel.  He simply invites the disciples to reconsider who could ascribe to that gospel.  What these two texts do together is remind us that loving one another means both holding fast to the gospel, while trusting the Holy Spirit enlivens the gospel.  The two texts together remind us that loving one another means we can be both generous and orthodox.  The two texts together remind us that loving one another means we can say yes and no, and find a gracious gray area where love abides.  What Jesus simply asks is that in the silence of the question – the silence that stood between Peter and the disciples before they made a decision – we allow love to do love’s work, so that our discernment of the Spirit can flourish.  Amen.

Sermon – Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23, P17, YB, August 29, 2021

08 Wednesday Sep 2021

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My mom and stepdad have been longtime members of what many of us would call a megachurch – a very large United Methodist Church in Alabama. Having worshiped with them many times, the church truly is “mega”:  multiple services of varying styles, a professional band, a TV production company, a large youth center, an indoor playground, a coffee shop, a gym with fitness classes, and a big campus.  But the thing that impresses me most about their church is their clear sense of identity.  When my family started attending regularly, two people came to visit them in their home, and they had a very frank conversation about expectations for membership.  At that meeting my mom and her husband were asked to commit to at least one ministry each, were asked about what kind of education they wanted to join, and they were asked to tithe – to make a commitment to give 10% of their earnings to the church, as is the Biblical tradition. 

I remember when my mom told me this story having a visceral reaction:  that would have felt WAY to “pressure-y” for most Episcopalians.  But as time has passed, I have come to admire their church’s clarity.  The Episcopal Church does a poor job of defining membership.  Our commitment to professing “All are welcome!” seems to translate into no defining characteristics of membership.  In fact, as a priest, one of the questions I dread the most is “How do I join your church?”  That should be a very easy question, and yet when I talk to new members, the answer has to be two-fold:  the technical answer (as long as you attend three services a year and are a financial contributor, you’re considered a member – the answer from the wider Episcopal Church which I loathe!), and the more practical answer we have crafted here at Hickory Neck:  you fill out a form, you commit to supporting the church financially, you commit to feeding yourself (through study, prayer, regular worship), and you commit to feeding others (through giving your time to the church and to the wider community on behalf of the church). 

Our gospel lesson today seems to be wading through a similar debate.  The Pharisees and scribes are totally perplexed by how some of Jesus’ disciples are not washing their hands before eating – a totally valid concern in these days of COVID!  But handwashing was not just about hygiene.  The ritual washing of hands was about identity, or “membership” as we understand it today.  The Jews of this time are in an “oppressed minority, living in an occupied land.”  Their question is asked with the backdrop of colonialism, cultural and religious diversity, and competing claims on identity.[i]    Their question is both simple and complex:  why aren’t the disciples living like members of our community? 

For many a reader of this text, all sorts of erroneous conclusions have been drawn – primarily the antisemitic understanding that the laws of the Jews are superseded by laws of Jesus.[ii]  But that is not what is happening in this text.  Jesus does not have any issue with ritual cleansing:  he of all people understands the consequences of following God.  But Jesus is saying something more nuanced about identity and membership.  Jesus is saying that no matter how we traditionally mark ourselves as “other,” even if something is “the way we’ve always done it,” what is more important is how we live our faith.  So, if we are doing all the right things:  washing our hands the right way, bowing at all the right times, crossing ourselves when we’re supposed to, saying “Amen” during the sermon – or avoiding saying “Amen” during the sermon – none of that matters if our insides are defiled.  As Jesus quotes from Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”[iii] 

Today’s invitation is to ponder what membership in this body of faith means.  Are we honoring Jesus with our lips, but our hearts are far from Jesus?  Are we following the external “rules” but fostering evil intentions in our heart?  Our work this week is making sure that when we go out into the world to love and serve the Lord, we love and serve the Lord in ways that show people Christ through our words and actions; that when we wash our hands, we do not wash them simply to keep ourselves safe, but to keep our neighbors safe; and that when we talk about how much we love this church on the hill, we do so in a way that does not show mask our individual struggles with avarice, deceit, slander, pride, and folly.  Telling the world you are a proud member of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is just fine; but our invitation is to be clear with others that, as that old tune says, “He’s still working on me,” is also a part of membership in the body of Christ.  Amen. 

[i] Debie Thomas, “True Religion,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2944 on August 27, 2201.

[ii] Idea suggested by Matt Skinner on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#799: 14th Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 22B) – Aug. 29, 2021,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/799-14th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-22b-aug-29-2021 on August 25, 2021.

[iii] Mark 7.6b.

Sermon – Matthew 22.1-14, Isaiah 25.1-9, Psalm 23, P23, YA, October 11, 2020

14 Wednesday Oct 2020

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The text we heard today from Isaiah is one of my favorites.  The text is commonly read at funerals because the text depicts the sumptuous heavenly feast:  a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.  The vivid, lavish image of the heavenly banquet is enough to calm our anxieties about our loved ones, but is also a comfort to us as we ponder our own mortality, and the feast that awaits us with our God.  Of course, feasts are a part of our faith vernacular from our Jewish roots.[i]  When we receive communion, we talk about the meal as being a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.  For many of us, not receiving communion these last seven months have been particularly difficult because the act of feasting on Christ’s body and blood is a weekly ritual that offers us promise, encouragement, and joy.

But as I read our others texts today, I began to realize that perhaps our rosy image of the heavenly banquet is not quite complete.  In our beloved twenty-third Psalm today, one also read at funerals, there is a tiny unsettling line in an otherwise soothing psalm.  The psalm says, “You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me,” or in our the much more familiar King James Version, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”  Somehow that sumptuous feast becomes a little less satisfying knowing we have to share the feast with those who trouble us.  I can think of a lot of people right now that I have no desire to feast with in the life to come. 

And we cannot forget the wedding feast in our lesson from Matthew today.  As much as we like the allegory of all being welcomed at the king’s feast, where both “good and bad”[ii] are welcomed at God’s table, we are totally thrown by the king’s rejection of the man without proper clothing.  Our immediate reaction is condemnation:  surely if the king, if God, is inviting all in, something as superficial as what we wear should not lead to being cast out.  I mean, this is Hickory Neck after all – where bowties and jeans are equally welcome!  But before we get too bent out of shape, we need to realize Matthew is not talking about a literal wedding robe.  Matthew is talking about wearing the “baptismal garment of Christ, clothing oneself with the compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience of one who belongs in the kingdom.”[iii]  You see, although the welcome is broad, as Thomas Long explains, “being a part of the Christian community should make a discernible difference in who we are and how we live…there should be a sense of awe and responsiveness about belonging to the church, belonging to the community of Christ, being a child of the kingdom of heaven.”[iv]

As a priest within the Episcopal Church, I talk to newcomers of all kinds of backgrounds.  The most common question I get from this varied group is, “How do I become a member of the church?”  This is a reasonable question, and in other traditions the answers are very simple.  But the Episcopal Church has a terrible track record with this sort of thing.  Technically, membership in our church means attending church at least three times a year.  Yep.  That is the only definition we have in writing.  I would argue our denominational lack of clarity around membership leads to a lack of investment and true belonging.  In a desire to make everyone feel welcome or create a rosy sense of belonging, we water down what being a person of faith really is.  In fact, Long argues, “to come into the church in response to the gracious, altogether unmerited invitation of Christ and then not conform one’s life to that mercy is to demonstrate spiritual narcissism so profound that one cannot tell the difference between the wedding feast of the Lamb of God and happy hour in a bus station bar.”[v]

Now I know that sounds harsh, much like Matthew’s story sounds harsh.  But as I have been thinking about the rosy feast of Isaiah this week, I realized I needed the feast of the twenty-third Psalm and Matthew too.  I need to remember that not only am I, in all my imperfections welcomed to the table, so are my enemies.  And not only are God’s arms widely open to me, God also expects something of me – for my life to have some recognizable response to the grace of God, for others to know we are Christians by our love, by our wedding garments of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.

That is why at Hickory Neck, we try to be a bit clearer about membership – or more aptly, about discipleship.  Our newcomers learn quickly that being here means a few things:  being a member at Hickory Neck means coming to worship, to the feast, regularly enough to be fed and shaped in the life of faith; participating in formation and outreach to continue to grow, learn, and serve; to support the mission of the church with our time, our talent, and our treasure.  We do all of this because the welcome we receive here at Hickory Neck is not hollow – the sense of belonging we feel here is not simply for stuffing ourselves.  That is why our stewardship team invited us this month into a reflection about faith-filled generosity – not inviting us to give financially just because we should.  We are invited to financial generosity toward Hickory Neck because we have been generously, unconditionally welcomed to the feast, and we want to embrace the garment of Christ as a response to that generosity.  This week, as you reflect on the commitment cards and time and talent forms you received by mail, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences with the feast of God – the times when this table has been a lifeline, when Christ’s welcome has been a salve, and when the garment of Christ has been an honor rather than a burden.  I look forward to hearing your stories of faith-filled generosity at the feast this week!  Amen.

[i] Susan Grove Eastman, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 167.

[ii] Matthew 22.10

[iii] Thomas G. Long, Matthew (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 247.

[iv] Long, 247.

[v] Long, 248.