Sermon for Sunday 24 January 2021: Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

 

Sermon the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

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Photo: Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, Jerusalem 2018

 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

 

John 15:1-17

Jesus said:

‘I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

 

‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.

Word of God, word of life. Thanks be to God.

 

Prayer of the Day

In peace let us pray to the Lord:

       Lord, you are the vinedresser who cares for us with love.

       You call on us to see the beauty of each branch united

       to the vine, the beauty of each person.

       And yet, too often the differences in others make us afraid.

       We withdraw into ourselves. Our trust in you is forsaken. 

       Enmity develops between us.

       Come and direct our hearts toward you once again.  

      Grant us to live from your forgiveness so that we may be together and praise your name. Amen.

 

 

SERMON

 

Dear friends: once again, I’m reminiscing this week, thinking of what I would be doing during a “regular”, pre-pandemic year. It’s a strange thing to say, I suppose,, as things in Jerusalem are never “regular”. Residents here always live under the constant worry and stress of an ongoing military occupation. There’s nothing “normal” about this city, or this situation—and certainly there has been not much that is “normal” about the past year!

Still, I remember that in Jerusalem during a “normal” year, this day should be the beginning of our ecumenical celebrations for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Here in Jerusalem, also in the spirit of unity, we hold the Week of Prayer one week later than most of the world, to accommodate Armenian Christmas, which occurs here on the 19^th of January. Each day of the week, the Christian communities in the Holy City would be gathering in a different church, honoring each other’s prayer traditions and committing ourselves to the unity for which our Lord Jesus prayed: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” (John 17:20) Amen!

The Week of Prayer for Christian Unity happens annually all across the globe, not only in Jerusalem, but it feels especially important here. Christians are a tiny minority of the population of Israel and Palestine, comprising only 1.5% percent of the people. Of course, that tiny minority is then divided into 13 official churches and more unofficial Christian communities. One would think that such a small group of people could get along, but of course even the church at the site of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection is famous for sometimes chaotic turf fights between the different groups laying claim over the space.

For this reason, the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity is very meaningful to us in Jerusalem. I’m always proud to be part of our Lutheran service (traditionally held on Tuesday of the Week of Prayer) because we are usually the only ones who have women taking on official roles. I was honored to be asked to preach twice in the last 7 years. When I stand there in my silly collar and robes and look out at the bishops and archbishops and patriarchs in their own silly hats and robes, I feel like we Lutherans are saying loud and proud: Ecclesia semper reformanda est—the church is always to be reformed! Amen.

There are no Christian Unity services this year. There are no Sunday services at all during this time, as we are in the third week of a third lockdown. And still, this week my heart and mind are fixed on the desire for unity—in the church, in the nations, and in the world.

I will say that I was so thrilled to watch (from afar) the events in my home country this week. The beginning of a new administration in the United States feels, to me, like the break of dawn. It feels like a new beginning, a chance to reset, to renew, to recover. Most folks I talk with regularly seem to feel the same joy and relief.

But the fact is, roughly half of my country does not feel the same joy or relief. The competing narratives of the situation in my country remind me of the competing narratives at play here, in Israel and Palestine. How can one president, or even one cabinet of politicians and leaders, repair such a divide in America? How can one peace treaty heal 70 years of hurt and pain in the Holy Land?

It seems impossible, or at least improbable. It would take a miracle, it seems.

And still: We are not dismayed. We are not deterred! For our God is a God of miracles. When I wake up in the morning these days, in spite of Corona and occupation and insurrection and injustices of every kind, burdens which weigh heavy on all of us, I try to remember that the God of the universe (whom I know through Jesus crucified and risen) multiplies bread and fish, turns water into wine, casts out demons, raises little girls and beloved brothers from the dead, and transforms the cross---the state’s symbols of power over others—into the ultimate sign of love’s power over sin, death, and despair. Unity and peace, justice and reconciliation are not only possible, they are the future, for they are God’s hope and desire for the church, for the nations and for the world. Thanks be to God.

And so, at the beginning of a new year and with great hope for new beginnings of every kind, here the church is, focusing our prayers on the hope for a new, unified reality among the followers of Jesus.

This year, the theme for the Week of Prayer was prepared by the Monastic Community of Grandchamp in Switzerland. The theme that was chosen, “Abide in my love and you shall bear much fruit”, is based on John 15:1-17 and expresses Grandchamp Community’s vocation to prayer, reconciliation and unity in the Church and the human family.

The Grandchamp Community has its origins in Europe in the 1930s, when a group of women of the Reformed tradition sought to rediscover the importance of silence and listening to the Word of God. Today the community has fifty sisters, all women from different generations, Church traditions, countries and continents. In their diversity the sisters are a living parable of communion. They remain faithful to a life of prayer, life in community and the welcoming of guests. The sisters share the grace of their monastic life with visitors and volunteers who go to Grandchamp for a time of retreat, silence, healing or in search of meaning.

In producing the material for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity for 2021, the sisters have invited churches across the world to enter into their tradition of prayer and silence that is rooted in the ancient traditions of the Church catholic. They write:

“Jesus said to the disciples, “abide in my love” (Jn 15:9). He abides in the love of the Father (Jn 15:10) and desires nothing other than to share this love with us: “I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father” (Jn 15:15b). Grafted into the vine, which is Jesus himself, the Father becomes our vinedresser who prunes us to make us grow. This describes what happens in prayer. The Father is the center of our lives, who centers our lives. He prunes us and makes us whole, and whole human beings give glory to the Father.

Abiding in Christ is an inner attitude that takes root in us over time. It demands space to grow. It can be overtaken by the struggle for the necessities of life and it is threatened by the distractions, noise, activity and the challenges of life.

We live in a time that is both troubling and magnificent, an often dangerous time where we are challenged by pandemics, wars, violence, poverty, racism and climate change. Yet as Christians seeking reconciliation, justice and peace, we also know the full value of a spiritual life, have an immense responsibility and must realize it, unite and help each other create forces of calmness, refuges of peace, vital centers where the silence of people calls on the creative word of God. It is a question of life and death.

Though we, as Christians, abide in the love of Christ, we also live in a creation that groans as it waits to be set free (cf. Romans 8). In the world we witness the evils of suffering and conflict. Through solidarity with those who suffer we allow the love of Christ to flow through us. The paschal mystery bears fruit in us when we offer love to our brothers and sisters and nurture hope in the world.

Spirituality and solidarity are inseparably linked. Abiding in Christ, we receive the strength and wisdom to act against structures of injustice and oppression, to fully recognize ourselves as brothers and sisters in humanity, and to be creators of a new way of living, with respect for and communion with all of creation.

The summary of the rule of life that the sisters of Grandchamp recite together each morning begins with the words “pray and work that God may reign”. Prayer and everyday life are not two separate realities but are meant to be united. All that we experience is meant to become an encounter with God.”

 

Pray and work that God may reign. That’s a sermon in itself, wouldn’t you say?

Thanks be to God!

The sisters of Grandchamp provided resources for worship for the week of prayer, which of course we are not able to use as we are not gathering for in-person worship. But I was so moved by one of the liturgical suggestions. I wish we could do this in our community this week.

The sisters suggested that worshipers gather in a circle, surrounding a lit candle. Each of the worshippers should hold an unlit candle. Imagine that the circle of persons is the world. At the center of the world is God, in whom all our desires and longings find their meeting place.

Slowly, slowly, shway shway, either in silence or while singing, the persons in the circle take steps toward the center, knowing that as we move closer to God, so we draw closer to one another. And the closer we come to one another, the closer we come to God.

When all reach the center, we light our candles from the lit candle at the center, and observe a time of silent prayer together.

 

As I was reading this liturgy, tears came to my eyes. This scene feels so very intimate! It feels, at this moment of social distance, of uncertainty, of isolation, like a scene from a land far far away and a time long long ago. Can you imagine: Standing shoulder to shoulder, and moving closer and closer to one another: it feels like danger now, doesn’t it? Inshallah, soon.

And yet, although we can’t replicate this beautiful liturgical moment today, this is exactly what the church, and the nations, and the world needs right now. We need God, and we need each other. Instead of focusing on the things that divide us, instead of focusing on where we are each positioned in different points on the outside of the circle, now we need to look to the center, to God who is our Alpha and our Omega, the beginning and the end. We need to remember that Jesus is the vine, and we are the branches—all different, but connected in the most intimate way through the one who loved us to the end.

The sisters of Grandchamp say that this piece of liturgy is inspired by a text from Dorotheus of Gaza, a sixth century saint of Palestine.

The text says:

“Imagine that the world is a circle, that God is the center, and that the radii are the different ways human beings live. When those who wish to come closer to God walk towards the center of the circle, they come closer to one another at the same time as to God. The closer they come to God, the closer they come to one another. And the closer they come to one another, the closer they come to God.”

Amen.

As I envision this scene, of different people with different identities and different stories, gathered around one central light, I think of one of my favorite podcasts, which has been giving me life during the last year of pandemic.  It’s called “The Moth,” a story-telling podcast that was originally begun as small in-person gatherings of people telling stories. The founder of these events started them in remembrance of sitting around a fire as a kid, listening to the stories of his elders. As they shared their stories, each of them staring at the fire, the moths would also gather, drawn in by the light of the fire.

What I like about all of these images—the moths drawn to the fire, Jesus the vine and all of us the various branches, and the people of the world encircling God at the center of it all, is that none of these images requires us to give up our own unique selves. We each have a story to tell. We each have a way of being in the world. Each of us were made in God’s image, and God has called creation GOOD. God has called us GOOD. Unity does not require us to give up our own unique goodness. But it does require that we look toward what counts, that we look toward the center, which is light and love, goodness and grace, justice and kindness.

During this week of prayer for Christian Unity I will be praying for the unity of the church in Jerusalem and beyond. But I’ll also be praying for the repairing of the many breaches that exist between us today—for the tearing down of walls in this land and in our hearts, for racial justice, for ecumenical understanding, for the building up of the kingdom of God in the world. It will be a lot of work. It may take some time! But our God is a God of miracles, so I believe in miraculous change. Just as the wall in Germany fell, and apartheid in South Africa ended much more quickly than anyone expected, so we just might see miraculous change in the church, in our nations, in the world, in our personal lives much sooner than we expect.

Thanks be to God for the sisters of Grandchamp and for Dorotheus of Gaza, who remind us that miraculous change seems to happen when we fix our eyes on the center—on the light, on the One who creates, redeems, and sustains us: Jesus, crucified and risen.

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.