Reverend Ian Doescher

The Fourth Sunday of Epiphany

When I looked at the gospel texts in the lectionary for last week and this week, I had one of those why-oh-why-do-I-preach-from-the-lectionary moments.  If you remember, last week we heard about Jesus opening the scroll of Isaiah in the synagogue, and reading the section that says, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  Then Jesus sits down and offers his interpretation by saying, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”  And that’s where last week’s gospel ends.  Well, today’s gospel reading—as you just heard—begins with Jesus saying “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing,” and then lets the rest of the story unfold.  The problem with the way these two passages are split up over two weeks is that this is really one story, and it’s hard for us to understand Jesus’ words about his liberating mission without also knowing how his community responded to it.  At first, people are totally excited by what Jesus had said.  And you can imagine why: in the little town of Nazareth, hearing that such a liberating, messianic mission was coming true right there—in your hearing—might be terrifically exciting.  “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips. ‘Isn't this Joseph's son?’ they asked.”  People are astonished at the words coming from this boy—now this man—whom they have watched grow up.  And then—who knows why, maybe Jesus could see the writing on the wall, what was coming next—but then Jesus turns their excitement on its head.  He lets them know in no uncertain terms that their excitement about all of this happening in Nazareth isn’t about Nazareth at all, it’s about God and the gospel God is revealing to the world: “Jesus said to them, ‘Surely you will quote this proverb to me: “Physician, heal yourself!  Do here in your hometown what we have heard that you did in Capernaum.”  I tell you the truth,’ he continued, ‘No prophet is accepted in his hometown.’”  Jesus goes on to make an analogy to Elijah, who was sent not to the people of Israel but to a woman in Sidon.  The gist of Jesus’ message is that the people of Nazareth have misheard him, and if they start demanding to see the miracles that he has already done in Capernaum and start imagining glory for themselves and their town, they have completely missed the point.  And naturally, the gathered congregation doesn’t take too kindly to this kind of talk: “All the people in the congregation were furious when they heard this.  They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him down the cliff.  But he walked away right through the crowd and went on his way.”  Jesus read the crowd correctly, diagnosed their desire for glory and then watched as excitement about his liberating message turned into murderous rage.

How would the story be different today, or how would it be the same, in a congregation faced with Jesus’ liberating message: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor… Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”  When we hear words like this today, two thousand years after the fact, it is easy to imagine that they are spoken to us, maybe even about us.  Maybe we are the church that will fulfill Jesus’ mission in all of these ways.  Can’t you just see the headline in The Oregonian?  “Portland’s Own Calvary Presbyterian Church Saves the World.”  Really, though, it is no less than thrilling to think about this church being an instrument of God’s liberation in the world.  In the last week and a half here at Calvary, I have had some of the most interesting conversations of my ten months here.  A week ago Tuesday I met with our new elders, then two days later I met with the deacons, and then on Sunday morning I was in Stan’s Bible study, and in all three of these settings we started talking about ways Calvary can reach out to the community, things Calvary can do to serve our surrounding area, our neighborhood.  The new elders and I discussed improving the front entrance to this church, so that from Fremont we look more inviting.  We talked about the possibility of putting up a kiosk with a bench so people who are waiting for the bus can sit and rest in comfort.  The deacons and I talked about the ideas of holding blood drives and immunization clinics here at the church, where Calvary members could help out the medical professionals who come.  As we were talking about outreach in Stan’s Sunday School class last week, Jane Ohling leaned over and related to me a conversation she’d had with her son during the extreme cold we had in December.  Jane and her son were talking about churches that opened their doors on the coldest nights so people could come in off of the street, and then he asked her, “Did Calvary do that?”  She gulped and said, “No, we didn’t.”  “But why not?” he asked.  “You have that big carpeted room downstairs.”  What I found most remarkable about Jane’s conversation was that it was very similar to a conversation I’d had with my friend Cole a few weeks ago.  Cole is my childhood friend who is the pastor of an emergent church here in North Portland, and who uses the office next to mine here at Calvary.  Cole and I were talking about churches that open their doors and become homeless shelters, and he asked whether something like that could ever happen here.  I told him I didn’t think something like that would probably happen at Calvary in the near future.  But then Jane asked me almost the same question this past Sunday, and we started talking about the details of how it would work—maybe my high school friends and people from Cole’s church could be the main volunteers, the overnight volunteers, while the church provides space and church members make meals.  The possibilities are exciting.  Jane Ohling and I had this tremendous conversation about a radical vision of Christian hospitality, Jane who lives right next door to the church and, of all of us, might be most impacted by such an idea.  So who knows?

Now, I want to be perfectly clear that nothing has been set in motion, that these are all just ideas under discussion for the time being.  There are details to be looked at, decisions to be made, and frankly, there is fear to address and hopefully to overcome.  I don’t want to assume that these ideas are God’s will for the church—they are merely the interesting conversations that have sprouted lately.  But my point in telling you about these discussions is that there is clearly a strong feeling in this place that there may be more work for this church to do, ways for this church to be an instrument of the gospel.  The question that keeps getting asked is, how do we share that gospel with others, that we might help our church grow?  What I have learned—having studied congregational growth and the changes occurring in United States Christianity in the twenty-first century, with new generations of people who are afraid of what church might mean—what I have learned from all of this is that if we want to reach people, we have to show them we care.  People are not likely to respond to door-to-door pamphlets or to flock here simply because of our location or even the new pastor.  People in the twenty-first century want community, are hungry for community, but if they’re going to commit to a church they want personal relationships, and they want their church to be actively engaged with the surrounding area.  What would happen if we showed our community that Calvary is a place where the gospel is alive, through our actions and the way we live out the liberating mission of Jesus?  My preaching professors always used to say “show, don’t tell,” and I think that applies here too: what would happen if we showed people what Christ’s love is, what the story of the Good Samaritan looks like in a modern context, not just tell them what to believe?  If we can do that, we may start to see the stirring of the Spirit.  We may start to see people coming to us not just for the outreach we’re providing, but to be fed spiritually also.  We may start to see new life in this place.  Everyone in this room would like to see Calvary grow, and I think we’re starting to have the first stirrings, whispers and glimpses of how that might possibly happen, starting with Calvary’s engagement with our corner of northeast Portland.  I don’t want to imply that any of the ideas I’ve mentioned hold the perfect answer, or are some sort of magical solution to church growth, but they bear deeper consideration.

I’ll admit that when I think about these things, my energy gets revving and my creative juices get flowing.  And it’s just at that point when I have to check myself, and I’ll tell you why.  The risk in all of this is that we start to think just like the people of Nazareth did, when Jesus said to them, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”  The people of Nazareth demanded that Jesus show them some miracles, some signs, like they’d heard he did in neighboring towns.  But Jesus told them they had it all wrong—it wasn’t about them, it was about the gospel.  Probably the town of Nazareth—a dinky little town of about 400 people, maybe no more than a few families living together—maybe they thought they were destined to be the next Jerusalem, the next Rome.  And Jesus says, “Cool your jets.  This isn’t about you, this is about the gospel.”  We all remember how moved the world was by the Amish community that forgave the woman whose husband had murdered several children in the community—they said to her, “Don’t leave.  You’re a part of us.  Be here, and remain in Christ’s love with us.”  The world was shocked, because this was such a countercultural reaction.  But that doesn’t mean people ran off and joined Amish communities in droves—it wasn’t about the Amish, it was about putting the love of Jesus on display.  Friends, as we begin to do this work of outreach—this work of showing our community that we are an engaged church that shows God’s love to people, real people—as we do this the challenge will be not to worry about the numbers.  Everything I read these days, everyone I talk to says that small churches need to be concerned about living the gospel faithfully, not about growing in numbers.  The instant a small church’s main focus is growing in size, the death warrant has been signed for that church, because people can sense a desperate church from a mile away.  But if we are a community that is about living the gospel and showing Christian love to others through our actions, people may start to notice.  And this church can thrive, even without large numbers.  Let me be clear: I want to see this sanctuary full as much as anyone, but I also recognize that if someone comes to a free meal at the church and gets fed, but never darkens our door again, we have fed the hungry as Jesus told us we should.  If someone comes to an immunization clinic here, has a great conversation with Joyce Panage, and ends up going away from here and getting back into Christianity at another church, we have fulfilled Jesus’ call to “make disciples of all people.”  If someone comes and gives blood here and is inspired by the church’s willingness to share its space, then leaves here and decides to call an old friend and ask forgiveness for an old hurt, we have helped pass the love of Christ on to others.  These and a thousand other ways are ways we might extend the body of Christ to other people.  This is a perfect week for one of the readings to be the beautiful passage about love that Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13, and it bears reminding that Paul writes those words in the context of his teaching about the body of Christ and how the church should reflect love in its working.  Paul is telling us that the body of Christ consists in doing acts of love, which is patient, kind, has no envy, is not proud, endures, believes all things, and never, ever fails.  This is the love we are called to show to our community, without expectation of reward or increased membership or whatever.  Ultimately, we have to trust that we touch people in ways we can’t possibly imagine, trust that the Holy Spirit is moving in this place, is working through all of us, and trust that God has a purpose here.  And we have to trust that this story isn’t about Portland’s own Calvary Presbyterian Church—it is about Jesus Christ and his mission to the world: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

I welcome you into these conversations.  I want to hear your ideas, your excitement, your fears, your stories.  This is a moment at Calvary pregnant with possibility.  May God bless us and our work—whatever form it takes—in the days, weeks, months and years to come.  Amen.