State of the Parish-Sermon, 2/5/23: And Who Are We?

5 Epiphany

Psalm 112:1–9, [10]; Isaiah 58:1–9a, [9b–12]; 1 Corinthians 2:1–12, [13–16]; Matthew 5:13–20

You are salt to the world.  And if salt becomes tasteless, how is its saltness to be restored?  It is good for nothing but to be thrown away and trodden underfoot!  You are light for all the world.  A town that stands on a hill cannot be hidden.  When a lamp is lit, it is not put under the meal-tub, but on the lampstand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.  Like the lamp, you must shed light among your fellows, so that, when they see the good you do, they may give praise to your Father in heaven.  Matt. 5. 13-16

Two weeks ago, looking ahead, I read the lectionary appointed for today, the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany.  On Wednesday of the week past, I read again the lectionary appointed for today, the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany.  On Friday of last week, I met a friend for lunch in Harvard Square and coincidentally we ordered the same item from the menu.  When our meals arrived, we began to consume our lunch, continuing at the same time our heavy discussion about matters in our respective parishes.  Then I said to him, ‘would you please pass me the sodium?’  Without blinking an eye or interrupting his treatise on the value of congregational participation in our liturgy, he passed to me the salt shaker only, as I had not requested pepper.  We looked at each other and smiled.  His smile was more a smirk which said it all: “Ah! Ha!  You thought that you had caught me, right?”  I made no comment, but thought to myself, would the average person on the street have understood my request and then, understanding it, accused me of academic snobbery?

Returning home, I chose at random several of the cookbooks that occupy prominence in my kitchen, and choosing again at random, I read some recipes.  I read, according to the recipe: “1/2 tsp. coriander, 1 tsp. sodium,” “1/2 tsp. sodium, 1/2 tsp. baking soda,” “1 Tbs. dried oregano, sodium and freshly ground pepper to taste,” “1 Cup sugar, 1 tsp. sodium.”

And Jesus said: “You are the sodium of the world.  And if sodium becomes tasteless, how is its essential value to be restored?”

Obviously, none of the recipes nor the verse from St. Matthew’s gospel used the word “sodium.”  Our lives are not conducted as in a biology or chemistry laboratory.  We keep it real and comprehensible.  “Salt” in everyday speech has not lost its flavor.

On Sunday next, 12 February 2023, immediately following the celebration of Eucharist, we shall gather in St. Francis Hall for our Annual Meeting.  Because several of you have informed me already that you will be away next week, and in two instances for an even longer period, I thought it desirable, wanting always to maintain transparency, to share several examples of how we have responded in the year past, 2022, to the teaching which Jesus of Nazareth has put before us: “You are the salt of the world.”

“Annual Meeting” is, in essence, shorthand for looking at the immediate past year and evaluating ourselves, our intentions, in order to understand who we are in the past tense, in the present tense, and in the future tense.  That is to say, we will hear reports regarding whence we have come, who we are to date, and whither we would go.  Plainly spoken, the question “And who are we?” in our context causes us to think deeply about salt.  Do our business practices and liturgical observances reflect accurately our beliefs as a body under the banner of Jesus Christ?  Has our ministry in the year 2022 reflected what we proposed at Annual Meeting 2022?  Have we been diligent stewards of the salt entrusted to us, in our individual and unique personage, as well as in our commitments as a congregation?  More plainly articulated, have we used our resources, both financial and non-financial resources, appropriately in ministry?

An honest appraisal of our history need not require us to become depressed or to sink in energy-sapping negativity.  In fact, due in the main to the effect of the coronavirus pandemic, which restricted in-person liturgies, we have every reason to be joyful, for as we began the year 2022, we were laboring still under a severe reduction in weekly attendants at Eucharist and a corresponding reduction in our financial resources.  Your steadfastness to the mission of St. James, i.e. your taking seriously Jesus’ admonition, you saw yourselves as salt.  Much like the sodium in our physical body, required to maintain our body, you maintained this place against all odds, to use the vernacular.  Your prayerful, Christ-filled reflections, and often animated conversations, as well as literal physical efforts on behalf of our facilities were infectious.  Such dedication buoyed my spirit.

Conversations with our Bishop – diocesan and receiving from him tangible means that have moved the minute hand from striking the hour of despair, like the hand of the Doomsday clock that one speaks of regarding the nuclear clock of destruction, to a position of hope and greater certainty.   When our doors reopened in late 2021 and as we moved towards 2022, we witnessed transitions.  A graduate student, regular in attendance, departed for Ukraine, where he continues to render humanitarian assistance.  Three AA Groups were invited to return.  Newcomers have joined in our efforts to render ministry.  With finances more secure, working together with two neighboring Episcopal parishes, a Mosque, and a Synagogue, we have been able to offer a recent Afghan refugee employment as sexton.  Our liturgy has been enriched greatly by the addition of two gifted musicians as organist and violinist.   For all these changes, as well as for those who have remained faithful to our history, say I a prayer of thanksgiving to God.   The ministry of the parish requires still our diligence, lest our salt lose its strength and be “thrown out and trampled underfoot.”

What undergirds our ministry on the corner of Broadway and Clarendon Avenue, in Teele Square, in the City of Somerville, and in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, is outlined for us in the gospel according to Matthew just read.  I repeat the key phrase here: “You are the salt of the world.”  It is against that admonition, that standard set by Jesus, that the state of our parish should be judged.  I ask, as we reflect on the state of our parish, one question.  Well, maybe two.  In the year of Our Lord 2022 what specific thing did you undertake individually, in order to show to others within our parish and outside of the walls of our parish, that the salt of the Good News of Christ lives within and without our walls?  A variation of that question, and hence the possibility of two, is, did you hold aloft the light of the Good News of Christ, so that we, inside these walls, and those, outside these walls, could benefit from your living out the Good News of Christ?  I ask not for a show of hands, to answer the question, as if we were in a classroom.  Rather, these are questions designed to cause you and me to think.

The vocabulary or images, by which Jesus spoke to his followers about their intrinsic value—those images hold still today value and understanding for us.  As we look to Annual Meeting 2023 and set the course for 2023, I say two things concerning how we might individually respond to the call of ministry.  The first is something which I have said before and repeat here with equal fervor: I am your priest, “priest in charge,” as our Bishop-diocesan said several years ago via his Bishop-suffragan.  But, verily, verily say I unto you: Priest I am, but you are the ministers.  My second observation, grounded in today’s gospel, is this:  Salt has never been of one kind only.  Jesus recognized this.  We recognize and use today many varieties of salt, to name a few: the common table salt, iodized and non-iodized, sea salt, Kosher salt, rock salt, each with its distinct function and flavor.  You will know, in your private conversation with God, which of these best describes you and the contribution which you can make to enhance the flavor of what you offer the world under the name of Christ.  Your presence here is of unimaginable value.

My conclusion is this.  To be sure, there were things in 2022 left undone, and there will be in 2023 always more to do in sundry ways and in sundry places.  However, praise be to God that we have this place to which we can come weekly, in order to be reminded and nourished through the hearing of the Sacred Word and in the breaking of the Bread and the sharing of the Cup at the Altar of our unseen, yet ever present God.  AMEN

[N.B.  This “report” was presented as homily on the Sunday so noted above.] It was also included in the Annual Report distributed at the Annual Meeting.