"Ordinary Time"

A sermon by The Rev. Keenan Kelsey
Noe Valley Ministry, Presbyterian Church (USA)
Sunday, June 12, 2005

Text: Genesis 18

¹ The LORD appeared to Abraham near the great trees of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day. ² Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground. ³ He said, "If I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, [a] do not pass your servant by. ⁴ Let a little water be brought, and then you may all wash your feet and rest under this tree. ⁵ Let me get you something to eat, so you can be refreshed and then go on your way—now that you have come to your servant." "Very well," they answered, "do as you say." ⁶ So Abraham hurried into the tent to Sarah. "Quick," he said, "get three seahs [b] of fine flour and knead it and bake some bread." ⁷ Then he ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it. ⁸ He then brought some curds and milk and the calf that had been prepared, and set these before them. While they ate, he stood near them under a tree. ⁹ "Where is your wife Sarah?" they asked him. "There, in the tent," he said. ¹⁰ Then the LORD [c] said, "I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son." Now Sarah was listening at the entrance to the tent, which was behind him. ¹¹ Abraham and Sarah were already old and well advanced in years, and Sarah was past the age of childbearing. ¹² So Sarah laughed to herself as she thought, "After I am worn out and my master [d] is old, will I now have this pleasure?" ¹³ Then the LORD said to Abraham, "Why did Sarah laugh and say, 'Will I really have a child, now that I am old?' ¹⁴ Is anything too hard for the LORD ? I will return to you at the appointed time next year and Sarah will have a son." ¹⁵ Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, "I did not laugh." But he said, "Yes, you did laugh."

Matthew 9:35-10:8

³⁵ Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. ³⁶ When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. ³⁷ Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. ³⁸ Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field." ¹ He called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out evil[a] spirits and to heal every disease and sickness. ² These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon (who is called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; ³ Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; ⁴ Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him. ⁵ These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: "Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. ⁶ Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. ⁷ As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is near.' ⁸ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy,[b]drive out demons. Freely you have received, freely give.

SHE STOOD in the semi-darkness, concealed behind the skins of the tent, listening to her husband and his guests. "A baby!" she thought to herself, and then she laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. She quickly covered her mouth in an attempt to mask her outburst, but it was too late. She had been heard.

One of the visitors asks "Why did Sarah laugh?" Why indeed. She laughed because having baby was a preposterous idea at her age. Maybe she laughed because she thought the sun and too much wine had gone to their heads. Surely they could see she was an old woman? Surely they notice that Abraham is not exactly in his prime. A baby? Yes, Sarah laughed at the sheer outlandishness of such a suggestion.

Sarah and Abraham did not know they were entertaining angels that day Their lives, spent in faithful service and trusting obedience, had never been calculating, had never attached to reward. After all, the promise of a child made so many years ago had never even come close to being true. It's not as if Sarah expected to be expecting at this time in her life. But expectations are a funny thing, especially when our expectations confront God's expectations.

Joseph didn't expect that he would become Pharaoh's right hand man. He had been in prison, awaiting death.

Moses went for a walk one day, had a conversation with a bush and became the leader of a nation.

Peter didn't expect to be forgiven, to become a pillar of the church after getting it wrong so many times, and even denying God.

The prodigal son didn't expect to be welcomed home. To have his presence rejoiced over and celebrated after the way he had treated his family.

Today’s lessons are blueprints for ordinary living – They are reminders that God’s call always involves the unexpected --and these reminders come just as we are called into ordinary time.

For at least five years now I have been writing the worship page introduction for the summer months, the months after Pentecost, the months stretching out all the way until our liturgical cycle begins again at Advent– THESE months! Mostly I remind you that the term Ordinary refers to the naming of the weeks by ordinal numbers, the fourth Sunday in Pentecost, the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. And I almost always make the predictable but always valid comment that ordinary time can be quite extraordinary. This is particularly true here at NVM as we move into a time of guest preachers and Summer Sharing. It is a rare and precious opportunity we have to hear the testimonials and thoughts and faith experiences of one another.

Yet the fact remains that, bit by bit, our celebratory red hangings are disappearing in favor of a simpler environment. Life is calming down without the drama and excitement of our landmark holy days. We seem to settle in for something quieter, a summer season of kicking back. But what happens to our expectations during this time? Do we continue to expect the unexpected? To keep our lives open to our own opportunities to offer, and to accept, God’s extravagant hospitality, to spread the good news, to heal, to cast out demons, to offer comfort, to pursue justice? Ordinary time is about a lot of things, but it is not about withdrawing!

I don't know if any of you caught the KQED programs in which the BBC followed the stories of five men as they spent 40 days and 40 nights in a Benedictine monastery in Sussex. The first thing that caught my attention was the consistent reactions of others: 'How bored must you be to want to do that?' said one. 'It's a very comfortable, easy environment,' said another. And again, 'If you're looking for a career with guaranteed success, get yourself down to your nearest monastery, because I don't think it's the hardest job in the world, and you can be easily very good at it, just by toeing the line, not swearing, and not having sex.'

Needless to say, in the following six weeks none of the five found it particularly easy, or comfortable, or boring. In fact, the second thing that struck me was how hard it was for the five to fit into the monastic routine. They found that living alongside others can often be really quite hard - especially when those others are not of your choosing. And living with themselves – daring to face their inner and outer realities with stark honesty - if anything, that’s even harder. As the monastery's Abbot pointed out, it's no coincidence that the 1500-year-old Rule of St Benedict has a chapter entitled, 'Why monks should not hit each other'.

The five men thought they were going on retreat, into an ordinary time if you will. Instead, in the repetitive rhythm of work and worship, they found both challenge, purpose, and success in unexpected ways.

Today, as we read about Jesus sending forth his disciples, we are being sent forth as well. Last week you experienced some of the healing love and power Jesus offers – Now you are asked to pass it on. Pay it forward, as the movie title put it. Remember that film, one person does a kind deed for another, who in turn does a kind deed for another to pay it forward. So, you don't pay the person back who did something nice for you, you pay it forward. This, I think, is what Jesus would say Ordinary Time is all about. We are the laborers whom Jesus seeks-- not heroes or all-stars or experts or innovators, but down to earth, ordinary laborers, workers. We are the ones willing and able to do what needs to be done. Ordinary Time is a call not to sow but to reap; not to invent but complete.

With the disciples, we too are called to move into the unknown, the unfamiliar, the places we meant to go or wanted to go but haven’t quite gotten there. Get up and go, says Jesus. Get up and go....out of your circle of folding chairs, out of your circles of reliable and close friends, out into the circles those who hurt those who are outcasts and to those who are possessed with the demons of this world. Get up and go.

As we look around at the world of which we are a part, there are many things that worry and concern us. We see people affected by violence and abuse, we see many people finding life more difficult as the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. People are under great pressure as they try to juggle work and family responsibilities. We see people struggling with sickness, some of which is self inflicted through drugs and lifestyle. We see people working really hard to get more and more things while experiencing life as more and more empty. We live with corporate and national leaders using spin language and carefully crafted lies to sway popular opinion to meet personal narrow agendas.

Instead of despairing, or withdrawing, Jesus tells his followers that the world is a field ready for harvest. It is a land of opportunity. Get up and go, but go with compassion, not out of guilt or anger or fear Ordinary time calls out our compassion; literally it means "to feel in the viscera": to feel in your guts or in your heart. This is no small charge for us, because in the New Testament this word is almost exclusively used of God (and of Jesus). The only time it is used of another human being is -- appropriately enough -- for the good Samaritan. We are called to be good Samaritans, responsive to our fellow humans. The whole reason for the mission on which the disciples are sent is the compassion of the Son of God. Ordinary time starts in the compassionate heart of God; it exists in the Aramaic verb forms of continuing action.

We are the ones, Jesus reminds us, who already know how to live differently. There is no "Great Commission" here, no heroic action required. We are asked to start close at hand, in our daily living, in our everyday activity. We are asked to carry Jesus’ love and compassion and healing and helping to those we meet, to those in the fields next door.

As those visitors to the monastery found out, this kind of living is not easy. That’s precisely why Paul spent his life preaching encouragement to new Christians. What did he say to the Roman church? “We also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us." Paul doesn't mean that we point to our wounds and say, "Look how holy I am!" Paul means that, through the long haul, wounds and all, we rejoice because there is a hope before us.

The Christian life is indeed a long haul, with few quick fixes and festivals and many failings and disappointments. But there is a hope before us. The gift of faith remains when all the evidence around us points to despair.

Hope is the strength within us that surprises us and sustains us. In grueling times of loss and heartache, we somehow make it through and believe that better times are coming. That is hope, planted deeply within our souls by the power of the Holy Spirit, and bubbling up to give us courage when we need it most. Jesus Christ provides the assurance that our hope is more than wishful thinking; it is grounded in the truth of God’s love.

As we enter Ordinary Time, we have space for practicing our faith.: trying the shape of our faith out, working it deeper into our daily living, making it our home and making ourselves at home in it. Away from the intense dramas of the Christian year, Ordinary Time is time for the messiness and mundane ties of life to come to the surface, and for us to attend fully to them; it's time for us to address those things that we've been avoiding or neglecting, outside ourselves, and inside; it's time for us to give the patience to things that need it, to the things we've been putting off. The long, green expanse of Ordinary Time is time for the holy, care-full work of 'tending and mending'. It’s a time for entertaining angels unawares, offering, and accepting hospitality, passing on healing and love and forgiveness and working for peace and justice.

“It's like stumbling into Paradise,” said one of the five monastic adventurers, the former Northern Ireland Protestant paramilitary with a prison record – “these people are so accepting”. Ordinary Time, like monastic life, is first and foremost about living into God's acceptance - and then living it out. One of the men spoke of the missionary David Livingstone, who said "I will go anywhere, as long as it is forward." Another realized that For him the question is more than "What Would Jesus Do?" It's a more personal question: "What Would Jesus have ME Do?" A third said, “There were some genuinely 'God-filled' moments along the way."

May it be so for you as well.