Matthew 18:21-35
How good it is to finally be here! If you are a visitor this morning, here for the first time, then let me assure you that I feel as new as you do, since this is my first Sunday as rector at Saint John’s Church. And if you are a member of this community, then my hope is that you are as excited and delighted as I am that now, after a long and dedicated search process, we have finally begun our journey together.
And so we begin. Or, I should say, so we have begun, since the my first liturgy with you this morning was in the garden at 8 am. Clearly this church has a deep love for the Woodland Garden behind the church, planned and planted by the Rev. Mr. Cutler so many years ago, and tended to by so many over the years. As I was learning about Saint John’s in the search process, I was intrigued by this garden, and struck by the depth of love that parishioners have for it. And or course, that garden also is situated in a city – in a town – and I have also been struck by the love that people have for this historic community of Charlestown.
Your love of the garden and your love of the city tell me something about this parish. That love tells me that you have an awareness of how the scriptures record the great story of God’s engagement with humanity. Because I know I am not the first person to take note of the fact that God’s story with us begins in a garden:
So God created humankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. And God blessed them. And God saw that it was good. (Genesis 1:27)
We, the human community, the image of God, man and woman alike, were formed by goodness for goodness, and we were placed in a garden.
The scriptures record not only the beginning of that story, but also where that story is supposed to end. And so if we turn from Genesis to the last chapters of the Bible, we are brought to a city, the holy city:
…the New Jerusalem, come down from heaven, that place where God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. (paraphrase of Revelation 21:2-4)
We begin in a garden and we end in a city. If the vision of a holy garden reminds us of who we were formed to be, then the vision of the holy city reminds us of who we are meant to become.
But of course, we know that even with the best of our gardening, weeds grow, invasive plants make their way into paradise and storms bring branches and limbs down amongst the flowers and shrubs. And as for the city: we know that we have not yet reached the heavenly city. We do not live in a city where every tear has been wiped from every eye and where death is no more.
This particular day poignantly reminds us of that. For as eager as we may be and excited about the new chapter beginning in the life of Saint John’s today, it is also a day on which we are profoundly aware of just how far away both the vision of paradise and the vision of a new Jerusalem can be. This week, we have seen the images, heard the stories, and remembered in our own hearts and minds the accounts of cities being attacked, and of towers falling. We have been reminded of the profound presence of evil in the world. And we are made painfully aware that we dwell neither in Eden nor in the new Jerusalem, but somewhere in between.
What do we do when confronted by such questions? We, who love the garden and love the city, do what we do every week here. We return to this place, and we return to the stories of the scriptures, where we seek guidance, and understanding, wondering if there will be a word for us, and perhaps a way ahead to guide us when perplexed.
It is what we do this Sunday, turning to Jesus as he speaks to his disciples. And what we hear is this:
Then Peter came to Jesus and said to him: “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times seven?”
Jesus said to him: “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy times seven.”
(Matthew 18:22)
Forgive. Is this a word we want to hear today? Is this a word even appropriate for today? It is no easy word when we consider the pain inflicted ten years ago, and all that flowed from those attacks. Forgiveness is an incredibly challenging task, an enormous and ongoing work of the heart and soul, and it would be foolish for any of us to think that we can simply hear Jesus’ words, forgive all that has happened and pretend that we are a step closer to that heavenly city.
But maybe that is not we are asked to do today. Listen again to Peter’s question:
“Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?”
And that question brings us a step back from the world transforming events of 9/11. The Word brings us first to the life of this community, inviting us to look at our lives with each other, and to consider what it means to live with each other in a way where forgiveness is so predominant that we lose count about how often it happens.
When I was introduced to the Vestry after the Search Committee had made their recommendation that I be called as your new rector, Scott Squillace, the Co Chair of the committee, presented me with a white pillar candle. He said that the committee had used that candle, lighting it during their times of prayer and discernment about who to call. And no, they were not looking for white or dark smoke to arise from it as thy made their selection.
It was a used candle, and because it had some dings and dents, it was suggested that perhaps I should be presented with a new candle. But in the end, everyone felt that the actual candle should be given to me. For as Scott explained when he presented it to me, those dings and dents might be a reminder for me – so that once I arrived and learned more about this congregation and its dings and dents, I would still love you. And so I will. And you know the other side of course: my prayer is that once you have learned about some of the dings and dents of my soul, you will yet love me. And living and working together, as we practice the art of forgiveness, we will discern ways to do that work in the larger world that we inhabit.
And we can do that, because as the psalmist reminds us, we ourselves have been forgiven. We, who were formed in goodness for goodness, know that when our divided hearts lead us far from the garden or the city, there is a gracious and loving God who awaits us.
We can practice that art, because each and every week we come to a table of forgiveness. It is set by One, who, when he was confronted by the evil of the world, responded with the love that was the essence of his being, saying, “Father, forgive them.”
And who knows, if we practice that art often enough, perhaps Charlestown will become known for having a second Training Field – the field of forgiveness known as Saint John’s Church.
And so we begin. We begin in this place, between the Garden of Eden and the City of God. But also within them. For if we touch and taste deeply the life that is offered to us in Jesus Christ, then we will have those occasions, those glimpses, those indelible moments when we look around us and know, in the depths of our hearts, that we do indeed dwell in the goodness of the Garden, even as we behold the glory of the City.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
A Sermon for St. John’s Episcopal Church
Charlestown, Massachusetts
Preached on the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 11, 2011
by the Rev. Thomas N. Mousin
