“Far Off and Near By”
October 1, 2017
Ephesians 2:15-18
Galatians 6:1-10
Paul writes of the good news that Christ brings: “Peace to those who are far off and peace to those who are nearby.”
On the first Sunday in October we demonstrate our connection with Christians around the world—those who are far off and those who are nearby—as we celebrate World Communion Sunday. We recognize that in spite of differences in nationality, economic condition, race, geography, and politics, we are united with women and men around the globe through our common faith in the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ.
Of course, in a sense, here at Congregational UCC we do this every week. Members are traveling or returning from travels abroad all the time. Students and visitors who worship with us come from around the world. Our native and ancestral lands are many and relatives can still be found in them.
This past week I was thinking about Ruben Lebron, who joined our congregation last January. You might remember that Ruben grew up in Puerto Rico. As a child in Puerto Rico, he took care of his grandmother’s chickens. This led him to come to Iowa to study animal science at Iowa State University, because, as he said, “Where else would you study farm animals?” When his career path changed, Ruben moved to Iowa City and eventually found our congregation.
I hadn’t seen him for a while, so I sent him an email expressing my concern for him and his family in Puerto Rico in the wake of hurricane Maria.
In a reply that is a wonderful example of the always changing makeup of our congregation, Ruben said that he had moved to Georgia in July—“a quick and sudden move,” he said, made so that he could be closer to his family, adding, “considering the recent circumstances, I believe that this was a wise choice.” Ruben said that I could share with you his report that his family in both Florida and Puerto Rico “are well despite the circumstances” and that our prayers “are more than appreciated.”
So we both rejoice and pray: Peace to those far off and to those nearby.
Since August, members of our congregation have been worried about family and friends from Texas to Puerto Rico as they have dealt with Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, and Maria.
When we gather at the Table today, we announce the reality—glimpsed occasionally but not always obvious—that we have a bond with our fellow Americans in Puerto Rico who are facing great deprivation, where, as the mayor of San Juan said last week: “It’s not a good news story. It’s a people dying story.” Not only that—we also have a bond with people in Pakistan who grieve after the massive flooding there as well as with those in similar circumstances in India, Bangladesh, and Nepal; we have a bond with people in Somalia, Ethiopia, and Kenya where the lack of water has resulted in an extreme drought; we have a bond with people in Mexico as they sort through the rubble caused by the earthquake.
The elemental bond of water unites us with so many today.
Water, of course, gives life to all creatures. It covers most of the earth and makes up most of our human bodies. In the water of baptism we are welcomed into the church.
But as we have seen again, water can also destroy and take life away.
We know flooding first hand here in Iowa City, which gives us the ears to hear the urgency of the words of Paul to the early church in Galatia: “As opportunity offers, let us work for the good of all humanity, especially members of the household of faith.” While we seek to love one another in this congregation, while we continue to work with and pray for others around the world who gather around tables like this one today, we know that our real calling is not so sectarian and limited. As far as we are able, we work for the good of all.
Paul reminds us of a tension that keeps us from being “helpers.” “Bear on another’s burdens.” Yes. But he adds, “All must carry their own loads.” We’re not doing what we do out of a position of strength, but out of our common weakness, recognizing all that weighs us down. We are warned not to take on more than is within our ability and encouraged to live with ourselves as we are.
We’re looking at generosity from many angles on these fall Sundays. This morning we discover that when we are generous, we are not alone and we are not on our own. We are part of a world-wide community that bears one another’s burdens.
When the great flood came to Iowa City nine years ago, Plymouth UCC in Fargo, North Dakota, let us know that as a congregation in a town prone to flooding, they would both receive a special collection for UCC Disaster Support, and pray for our congregation in particular.
We come to this day and live our lives and grow as generous people with a certain humility. We don’t live in isolation. We recognize this in the Congregational tradition as we emphasize the importance of the life of faith lived together. We join together to support each other, to offer encouragement.
How else but together as Christ’s church can we expect to make any difference in the world? This is how it happens in the church: one group sends money, another drives trucks filled with donations, another group arrives to serve meals, another group shows up to rebuild a house. In our Congregational independence we often overlook that we are connected—we are a part of a much larger whole—the body of Christ. It depends on us—but it doesn’t all depend on us alone. We are generous together.
This is especially the case as we respond to natural disasters. The United Church of Christ is part of the response networks we see on the news and, as important, those networks we often don’t see. UCC Disaster Ministries already is gearing up for long-term recovery work in places devastated by hurricanes. Our contributions provide community support for holistic recovery, repairing homes for families and children and restoring dignity for the most vulnerable who have lost everything in the wake of these catastrophic events.
We who are many are one body. When we come again to the Lord’s Table today, we come, as we do each time, as members of the one universal church. But perhaps today we come more consciously aware that we are not alone on our journey. We walk together with men and women, boys and girls who live in unknown places, in unfamiliar—often inhospitable—situations.
We come to the table together—and what do we find?
Wheat ground down and made into bread.
Grapes crushed into wine.
Signs of suffering. Signs that in Christ, God has joined all of us in our sorrow and suffering and still promises to be faithful.
We come to the table, not because everything is all right, but because we hurt, because we know others suffer.
So World Communion Sunday turns out to be far more important than we might ever have realized.
This table is where we return again and again to be nurtured in our work, work that we do not do alone; work that we are incapable of doing on our own strength.
On this Sunday, we’re just a little more aware that we are united with other Christians beyond national boundaries. We acknowledge our common faith and our common humanity with those who are far off and those who are nearby.