Ephphatha-Be Opened

A sermon preached by Rev. Douglas Fauth at First Congregational UCC, Baraboo WI

14^th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B/Proper 18  g  September 6, 2009

TEXTS: Proverbs 22: 1-2, 8-9, 22-23; James 2: 1-10, 14-17; Mark 7: 24-37

Time With Children

Tomorrow is a holiday—anyone know?  Labor Day!  Labor is another word for work, so, for over a hundred years,  Labor Day is a holiday to say thank you for everyone who works.  Grownups have work to do and so do children…did any of you go to school last week or will you be going to school?  Do any of you learn at home?  That’s a job, that’s work.  If you’re too young for school, then playing is your work— because you learn all sorts of things about the world when you play.  As Christians, we also have important work to do…helping to love and care for God’s people; if someone’s lonely or sad or hungry or sick, we have a job to help them as best we can.  So when we love and care for people—with a kind word or a helping hand, we’re not just being nice—we’re doing our job!  So have a Happy Labor Day and thank you for all you do!  Let’s Pray:  Dear God, thank you for our important job of loving and caring, and for all who love and care for us.  Amen.

I know this will be hard for you to believe— every now and then, I look back at an old sermon, usually from three years before, to see what I may have said to you the last time the lectionary cycle of readings presented us with the same biblical texts.  It’s not to get out of writing something new, but a chance to see if there’s something good to glean, or check what has changed, what progress we’ve made—or not.

So I have a question to ask—a bit rhetorical, as it may be—based on a challenge I offered those three years ago—how are we doing with our ephphatha—our open, affirming, welcome?

The challenge, to build on our open, affirming welcome, was connected to some scenarios—the first:

Here and now, next Sunday, weeks, a year from now—a woman is going to enter into our midst, in spite of what others may think.  For her it will be crossing a divide to be among us.  She may challenge us to go beyond ourselves—because someone somewhere told her about a church that is different and could be a place of healing for her.

So how are we doing with our ephphatha?

You know the story that prompted that scenario.  It is a scandalous story.  Jesus crosses boundaries, even our own deep desire to protect his divinity from his humanity.  The boundaries are numerous:  Jesus—the Jewish rabbi—is across the boundary, in Gentile territory, in a place called Tyre, in a household of the exploited Jewish minority.  It was said among the Jewish community that the native Tyreans—also called “the dogs”—would steal bread from the mouths of the Jewish children.  Jesus—child prodigee who by his teaching and works is coming to be called by some “Messiah”—crosses boundaries and gives ear to a non-Jew, a Syro-Phoenecian, and a woman, to boot.  Jesus—the man of Nazareth—crosses the boundary of his own humanity, culture and time, after an initial response shocking to our ears, to not only hear and not condemn a Gentile woman, but to be moved by the persistence of a mother’s heart, and concede to her faith.

For the woman and her daughter, for all of us grafted onto the family tree of faith, for Jesus himself, the word comes—ephphatha, be opened.

The second scenario from three years ago:  Here and now, next Sunday, weeks, a year from now—a man is going to come into our worship.  For him, our worship will be strange—even a bit violating—like a man sticking fingers in his ear, spitting, touching his tongue.  His friends will have brought him here.  In some unknown way, his healing will come, not so much by the strange ways of worship, but by the message of word, music, prayer, gathering table, that echoes Jesus’ ephphatha—be open.  And in spite of the modesty WE might have, he’ll tell the world by his being as well as his doing that there is a place in Baraboo on 6^th and Broadway that goes beyond.

You know the story that prompted the scenario; the one after Tyre, but still in Gentile territory.  They brought to him a man, hearing and speech impaired.  Jesus—the one who is supposed to be meek and mild—he doesn’t caress the man’s face or engage in an esoteric debate about the nature of good and evil.  Jesus—the one who calls children to himself and looks compassionately on the last and least—he thrusts his fingers into the man’s ears, spits, groans….

For the man whose ears are opened and tongue set free, for you and I who sometimes fail to hear the whispers of God or are more than willing to keep the good news to ourselves—comes that word again, ephphatha…be opened.

Today, we are beginning our seventh year of ministry together.  I think we have an incredible spirit of ephphatha in this place.  Women and men, girls and boys have come into our worship and entered into our midst, often in spite of what others may think, a number of whom have crossed all sorts of divides and borders to be among us and to join with us in ministry; sometimes entering into what might be a strange new world of church, sometimes re-entering into “church”, a reality long closed off to them, and finding a place of openness, and going beyond.

The year ahead will be unique.  As we resume our normal schedule next week, we’ll be adjusting the time and way we educate and worship with children, trying to respond to the current needs of families with young children.  That takes some openness.  Over the next two weeks, in a process I sincerely urge you to take part in, we’ll think together on ideas that can help to shape our witness and mission as well as our identity, and how we reach out and create community for the next several years.  That takes some openness.

And, very significantly, the coming year will include a sabbatical leave for me which, in reality, is a sabbatical opportunity for the congregation.  For me, for you, we’ll have a chance to take stock and recharge; maybe to assess our very non-Protestant tendency toward doing and busy-ness. 

However much the writer named James is used to give cover for “works” righteousness, we will do well—me and all of you—to take stock of a very active time of works in our ministry together; to open up to the things that excite us for ministry, and mark us as God’s creative community of human beings, not just God’s human do-ers.  As today’s texts remind us, neither right words, right doctrines, or self-image as “good Christians” nor busy-ness at good works alone is ever a sure sign of our faithful discipleship.  Ironic for Labor Day Sunday, isn’t it?

As we come to the table we renew our commitment to being and becoming a community of ephphatha—of being open—open with a warm welcome and embrace for those who come into our midst; open to God’s surprising acts that challenge us and our world;  open to the new things that God will be unfolding in our life together in this place and beyond. 

Even though the love of God represented at the table is so plentiful that “dogs” could be fed from the crumbs that may fall, no one who comes to the table of grace is a “dog”; and, past any limitations we might perceive in ourselves, that others might perceive in us, or that we might be tempted to place on others, all of God’s children are graciously welcomed without begging.  So come, open to God’s invitation.  Hear and speak, touch and eat and taste God’s grace; take your place at the table of Christ, side by side, and live. ###

Let us pray.   PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE 

We are learning, O God, to be more open on this journey of life, no matter how settled we seem.  We’re learning , O God, that the miracles of faith are more about healing our divisions and boundaries, separating us from one another and you.  At your table, strengthen our resolve to be healers of divisions, to be fed fully, not by bread alone, but by the reconciliation that comes side by side with you.

We are learning, O God, to put our trust not solely in ourselves, but beyond ourselves.  The concerns and needs we bear are too much alone; so we give them to you:  for peace and justice in our community and world; for new beginnings in schools and churches; for the fair reward of labor, not only in money, but in meaning; for deep fears, frustrations and disappointments; for health and wellness within and among us.  Hear the prayers of your people, whether spoken or held in sighs to deep for words…

In the full assurance of mercy’s triumph over judgment, set us free and give us a faith action, shaped by our prayers, according to your will.  Amen.