January 29, 2006: The Wrong Sort of Success
Mark 1:21-28, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, Psalm 111
Eileen Parfrey - Springwater Presbyterian Church

No preacher wants to think that the only person who gets what they're saying is someone possessed by evil. Sure, preachers want to convert sinners. But a preacher likes to think that holy people are receptive, want to be set on the path of faithful living. So when the one who really gets what Jesus has to say today-the one who guesses his origins and takes his message personally-when the one who gets it is possessed by evil, you've gotta wonder if Jesus experienced a sense of failure. Or did Jesus skip ahead to know what Paul meant when he said to the church in Corinth that "what's so big about" knowledge is-well, nothing. This is the luck of the lectionary draw for the Sunday we ordain and install new elders. Wrong sort of success.

The reaction of the holy listeners to Jesus' message is enlightening. The Greek word describing their response means both fascination and outrage. As if his listeners collectively hear Jesus, but also take his message personally, almost defensively. As if Jesus' message is both the culmination of history and a new word about themselves. The combination becomes both good news and a threat challenging as it does, their personal status quo. What both grips and challenges is "a new teaching that does what it says." That's how The Message translates the NRSV "teaching as one who has authority," adding that what makes Jesus' teaching style different from that of the scribes was that he taught without "quibbling and quoting."

And this is where today's texts impact our ordination and installation service. As Reformed Christians, we hold to the priesthood of all believers. We expect all believers to embrace that characteristic Jesus' listeners found in him both endearing and threatening, namely living by what you believe, holding to a teaching that does what it says. That we expect this of all believers is why we embrace the notion that faith nurture is important for all believers, not just children. That we expect all believers to live to the full extent of their faith is why we ordain lay people to the ministries of governance and compassion, why the Presbyterian Church has a horizontal power structure. We honestly believe that all people who claim the name of Christ are called to practice what they say they believe.

We expect that of all believers. But when we ordain someone as an elder, we set that person aside to intentionally (but with our support) take the perilous journey to deepen the practice of their faith. We're saying that we think the promises these elders take will make a difference in how they live. Not because of something they do, but because of something God does. We set these folks aside by virtue of their making public promises, by virtue of laying hands on them and praying over them. As a congregation, we take promises to follow them. We make them our trail scouts, to go ahead, finding water holes and food sources. Scouting out the safest river fords and even (God help us!) a way over that impassable mountain, a way which might include a personal Laurel Hill.

When we set people aside in ordination, we expect that they will embark on God's perilous journey. We expect that they journey for their own sake on our behalf, taking seriously Paul's caution that, "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." The people we ordain consent to experience their own faith so they can teach us without quibbling and quoting (as The Message says was Jesus' teaching style). They experience their own faith so they can help nurture ours, not for the sake of head knowledge only-although head learning is good and necessary. We expect elders to experience their faith with humility and for the sake of bringing us along the trail. Laurel Hill notwithstanding.

Which brings up righteousness. Righteousness has been a fruitful topic for me lately. The Hebrew scholar who came to the presbytery's lectionary conference this fall told us that the Hebrew understanding of "the righteousness of God" doesn't translate well. The people who translated the Hebrew Bible did the best they could, but it's all interpretation, and something is missing. There is a sense of integrity to righteousness that English doesn't convey, leaving us to figure out that God's righteousness comes out of the deepest expression of who God is. Righteousness in relationship comes from integrity, from the authenticity, of who that person is-in the image and likeness of God. That's why when Paul talks about freedom, he means a freedom that acknowledges responsibility to others. Freedom for the sake of building up the community. Freedom for the purpose of being in right relationship with God. The Message translates Paul this way: "We never really know enough until we recognize that God alone knows it all. . . . Knowing isn't everything. If it becomes everything, some people end up as know-it-alls who treat others as know-nothings. Real knowledge isn't that insensitive."

Springwater is at an exciting and terrifying place. For the last year, the mission study committee has been listening to the congregation say who we think we are, where we think God is calling us, what we see as community needs. The session we constitute today has agreed to respond to the challenges, challenges re-defining our call, challenges discerning authentic outreach and righteous faith nurture. Like the listeners to Jesus' sermon in Capernaum, you may hear these developments as the culmination of years of history. Or you may hear these as challenges to the status quo. I hope you understand both responses to be faithful response, that you will join session in a third way, that you will creatively support our development as missional community.

It would be natural at this point to wonder, "What's in it for me?" When we hear the new elders take promises this morning, we will individually and as a body promise to follow them. We promise to help them keep their promises. This is "thy kingdom come" stuff. Who could blame us for wondering, "What's gotta change?" It is appropriate to ask that question with trepidation, with grief, with anticipation. But here is reassurance. We heard this reassurance all through Advent, it was the enfleshed for us at Christmas, and we are living into its skin-on-for-us implications during this Epiphany season. Because God is for us, we are able to be "for" each other.

Christians are called to be saints, not heroes. Heroes are at the center of the story, willing to sacrifice themselves to death for the greater good. If a hero fails, there is great calamity. But Christians are called to be saints. Saints put God at the center of the story. Saints are assured that the "greater good" has already been accomplished in Christ. Saints expect they will fail. The new elders aren't going to be happy to hear this: no one can accomplish their ordination vows. The new elders will fail at their ordination vows, and session will sometimes fail in leading you as a congregation. It is just not humanly possible to keep these promises. But as saints in a congregation of saints, we are reminded that failure is met by repentance, which is met by forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration. We call that "redemption." As saints, we live in community, depending on others and standing with them. We stand with these new elders and with session, we form around them, and then we all work together as a community that lives as if it has already received the reassurance that God is for us. So we can be for each other.