Repository of
Sermons
/ Calendar of Events /
Activities
25 Pentecost
November 6, 2005
Sermon by Rev. Peggy Tuttle, Interim Rector
Readings
A four-year-old boy was eating an apple in
the back seat of the car, when he asked, "Daddy, why is my apple
turning brown?"
"Because," his dad explained, "after you
ate the skin off, the meat of the apple came into contact with the
air, which caused it to oxidize, thus changing the molecular structure
and turning it into a different color."
There was a long silence. Then the son
asked softly, "Daddy, are you talking to me?"
Weaving together the Beatitudes, remembering the saints who have died and those still living and planning for your fiscal health next year, I feel like the little boy in the back seat. Are you talking to me?
First, the saints. In the Episcopal Church we recognize and memorialize “saints.”
What we celebrate in the lives of the saints is Christ’s presence, expressing itself in and through particular lives, lived in the midst of specific historical circumstances. We are not dealing primarily with absolutes of perfection, but the human lives of saints, in all their diversity, open to be moved by the Holy Spirit. Many a holy life, when carefully examined, will reveal flaws, or the bias of a particular moment in history or ecclesial perspective: Attitudes toward those outside the Church, or assumptions about gender. Understandings of the world may appear to be defective and wrong. And what, in one age, was taken as virtue, may, at another time, seem misguided. It should encourage us to realize that the saints, like us, are first and foremost redeemed sinners in whom the risen Christ’s words to St. Paul come to fulfillment, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
In an All Saints’ sermon, the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor says,
“it would be a mistake for us to believe that you have to be dead to be a saint."
“The truth is, there are living saints all over the place. Take Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu—or Osceola McCarty of Hattiesburg, Mississippi, for example.
“Osceola was a laundress, an old black woman who never married. She dropped out of school when she was in sixth grade to begin a lifetime of washing clothes. That was the year her maiden aunt came out of the hospital, unable to walk, and moved in with her family. Twelve-year-old Osceola quit school to join her mother and grandmother in the backyard laundry business and to help care for the ailing aunt. By the time the aunt had recovered, Osceola thought she was too old to return to school so she just kept on working
“And that’s what she did for the next seventy-five years, scrubbing the dark clothes on a washboard and boiling the white ones in the big black pot in her backyard. Her day began when the sun came up and ended when the sun went down. She was unknown to most people until she was eighty-seven years old.
That was the year she gave $150,000—her life savings—to the University of Southern Mississippi, for black scholarships. Overnight she became a celebrity. Local business people pledged to match her gift and the young woman who was awarded the first McCarty scholarship has all but adopted her. Osceola McCarty says the one question she is asked the most is why she did not spend the money on herself. Smiling the slyest of smiles she always answers, “I am spending it on myself.”
Somewhere in that life lived in a backyard, bent over a washtub, Osceola learned about generosity and what it means to give so that others might receive, a living saint at work in the world around her.
Today is also designated for us to be Commitment Sunday, the day we begin bringing our pledge cards to be blessed along with our alms, our gifts of money. This is as close as we come to making a sacrifice at the altar. And if our pledges are not a sacrifice, then we must ask ourselves if we are returning to God equally as much as God has given to us.
We heard the reading of Matthew’s Beatitudes this morning. I am particularly attracted to the one that says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Let’s think on that for a minute. The original Greek word for “pure” is “katharos.” And its basic meaning is “unmixed.” Using that definition makes this a demanding beatitude. In other words it could be translated:
Blessed is the one whose motives are always entirely unmixed, for that one shall see God.
It is very seldom indeed that we do even our finest actions from absolutely unmixed motives. What would it mean to have unmixed feelings about your pledging? It would mean that you know you have done your best. It would mean that you know the value of your gift to God and have joyfully brought not enough, but an abundance as your gift. It means you have come to know the difference between imitation and genuine.
Jesus goes on to say that the pure in heart shall see God.
It is one of the simple facts of life that we see only what we are able to see and because we believe we see God at work in this place, this day, through each and every one of you.
The saints we recognize this day are those who have gone ahead of us, here in this place. It is up to us to continue the work begun by them, not only to preserve material things, but also to ensure the future of life here. Endowments have generously been established to preserve the building and much of its contents. It is up to us to preserve the life in ministry by fully funding a budget that doesn’t leave us begging.
Pledging is about providing for your needs. It is about providing for our children, our adult education, for special events and staffing to meet your needs. Pledging is loving one another as you love yourself. You are worthy—worthy of loving and being loved. Your pledging reflects how much you value this community, your parish family.
Talking about money in church can be off-putting or it can be enlightening. Jesus was never afraid to talk about money, although He preferred talking about loving God and one another. Jesus often saw how money became a stumbling block for people, how money itself became the object of love and desire.
The Rev. Canon Michael Battle told this story in a sermon he preached at the last General Convention.
“A little girl lived with her mother and dad in a stable loving home. Both parents worked and she knew the importance of being thrifty as they rarely had extra money. One day the little girl was in Wal-Mart and saw a pearl necklace that she absolutely wanted to have. She begged her mother but her mother told her that if she wanted it she would have to do extra chores to purchase it. The necklace was only $1.98 so it didn't take the little girl long to accumulate the funds.
“She loved the pearls more than anything else. She wore them to school, to play, to church. She admired herself in the mirror whenever she could. She just thought there was nothing on earth more wonderful than her pearls.
“Each evening her father would read to her before she went to bed and they always had a wonderful time with one another, sharing secrets and that last good night kiss. One night her father asked her if she loved him. "Oh Daddy, of course I love you!" was the reply. "If you love me, give me your pearls." She was shocked and heartsick. She just couldn't part with the pearls! Her father knew the answer, smiled, and gave her a big hug and kiss. The little girl thought and thought about this but just couldn't part with the pearls. Several weeks went by and her father again asked her if she loved him more than the pearls and held out his hand. She just couldn't do it! And again she got a big hug and kiss and went to sleep.
“Keeping the pearls or giving them to her father was all she could think about. One day after much deliberation the little girl realized that she really did love her father more than her pearls and when she went to bed with tears in her eyes she put them into his hand and said, "Daddy, I do love you more than these pearls." When he received this cheap necklace, he reached into his pocket and handed his daughter a strand of genuine pearls of great value. He had had them all the time and was just waiting for her to let go of the cheap imitation.”
Sometimes we hold on to those things that separate us from the love of God believing them to be precious when in reality, the love of Christ is the most valuable commodity we can ever know.
Love one another as Christ has loved us.
Resources used for this sermon:
The Gospel of Matthew, Volume 1, Revised Edition by William Barclay.
When God is Silent, Sermons by the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor.
Lesser Feasts and Fasts, Church Publishing Company.
Sermons by the Rev. Canon Michael Battle.