Continuing in that Holy Fellowship

A few months ago, I invited my parents to come to school to hear me deliver my senior sermon on Mother’s Day. When my dad heard this, he started laughing. Confused, I asked him why. With an amused expression on his face, he told me that he would be happy to come, but that he couldn’t believe that he would have to listen to his twenty-one year old daughter try to deliver words of wisdom or insight about life in a sermon.

Of course, I was terribly offended. Twenty-one years is plenty of time to gain wisdom and insight about faith. Or so I thought, until I sat down to write. I hated to admit it; Dad was right.

Recognizing my limitations, I took two steps. I turned to God for help, praying and reading the lessons for tonight. And I thought about what I have learned over the last four years at Princeton – there had to be something I had gained here that would be relevant to a sermon.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus uses the metaphor of himself as a good shepherd and his followers as a flock of sheep. In the second lesson, John reminds us how blessed we are to be called “children of God.” In the first lesson, we heard about a gathering of believers who share everything and allow no one to be in need.

Among other themes, all of these readings have in common a commentary on community and family. I also realized that one of the most important aspects of my Princeton experience has been my search for a community here on campus. And, of course, what better theme to speak on than family on Mother’s Day, with my parents sitting right over there?

I would like to talk about a very specific kind of family – the Christian community. Before I came to Princeton, I was a Christian. I prayed, I went to church occasionally with my parents- but I was never really involved with any community of other Christians. I tried a few youth groups, but was usually turned off by their very exclusive nature and hypocrisy. I began to see a Christian community as a nice thing to have, but not very necessary – after all, faith is largely a private relationship between oneself and God.

I was somewhat surprised, then, when I came to Princeton and found that the first group on campus that I connected with was the Episcopal Church at Princeton (ECP). Why did I suddenly find the need for a Christian community? And what was the difference between this group and others I had tried before? I’ll try to answer those two questions in order.

So, first, why is there a need for a Christian community? Three years ago, just before Easter, Frank Strasburger, a priest over at Trinity Church, was leading several of us through a meditation exercise. He read through the events of the Easter story from the first person perspective of one of Jesus’ disciples. The disciple watches Jesus’ crucifixion and jeered at Him with the crowd. Afterward, the disciple feels terrible about denying his friend with whom he had spent so much time and from whom he had learned so much. All this disciple can think is, “I need to find the others.” He then runs all over town looking for the other disciples so that they can talk about what has happened. That simple phrase rang in my ears. “I need to find the others.” The disciple needed to find the others because they were the ones who had followed Jesus with him, who had heard the same words, seen the same miracles. Their experience of Jesus’ life was inextricably caught up with the others who had also been there. Only together, sharing their memories and their prayers, could they fully mourn Jesus’ death and celebrate his resurrection.

I felt a lot like that lone disciple running around town looking for the others. Though I had established a relationship with Christ my whole life, I found myself needing others who could relate to that amazing experience.

That leads into my second question – why did ECP become that community for me? Let me preface this by saying that this is my own personal experience. Everyone needs to find their own community in their own way- but there are a few elements about ECP that I think are absolutely essential to a Christian community. That said, let me get to my answer in a sort of roundabout way.

Lately, I’ve been reading Life Together, a book by Dietrich Bonhoeffer who was a Lutheran minister in Germany and who worked with a group of other ministers during World War II to resist the Nazis and was executed in the last days of the war. Bonhoeffer defines Christianity itself as “community through Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ.” He explains that Christians come to other people only through Jesus Christ. What does that mean?

What it comes down to is that the essence of Christianity- what makes Christianity a religion unique from other beliefs- is that God came to earth in the form of a man, Jesus Christ. We, as human beings, in our fallen state, in our sins, have nothing in common with the perfect, omnipotent God. We simply cannot relate to the position of being God. But when God lowered Himself to accept a human form, to endure our suffering- He put Himself in a position that we can relate to. When we think about the nails being driven through Christ’s hands, we might wince- we have all felt physical pain. Or when we think about how Christ must have felt when his disciples- his best friends- betrayed him- we can understand that. All of us have been hurt by our friends.

Because God shared our human form as Jesus, Christians can look at any other person – regardless of their beliefs, their actions, their history – any other person – whether they be a friend, a stranger, or even one of those friends who have hurt us- and see an element of Christ in them. God took on human form and died for every single one of us. We do not need to look any further than that to establish a relationship with another person through Christ.

We are not called to exclude others or to proclaim ultimate judge them. We are not called to criticize others. We are not called to draw distinctions between groups of people. We are called to love. We are called to help. We are called to see the risen Christ in every person – whether or not they see it in themselves- and to love them unconditionally because of Christ’s presence in them.

I really am getting to the answer of my original question of “why ECP.” ECP has been the first Christian community I have found that truly lives out this principle of unconditional love, this radical inclusivity, and acceptance of others through Christ.

Much of the mentality of life at Princeton is about selectivity. We cringe every year when we see that Harvard has admitted two percent fewer of its applicants than Princeton has. We are still proud, however, to be part of that ten percent of applicants chosen out of the incredible pool of high schoolers who apply here every year. Once we get here, we find the selectivity process has only just begun. We feel the pressure to be selected for a capella groups, a part in a play or to be on a sports team. Sophomore spring concentrates on selectivity- getting in to the right eating club, the right major, and finding the right roommates. Junior and senior years, we often find ourselves in the position of judges- recruiting the right people for our various organizations, selecting just the right members for our eating clubs. And senior year, we again find ourselves vying for the best jobs and worrying about finding friends who will accept us in the real world.

ECP is the one of the few groups I have found that does away with all of the pressure to get into a group and the responsibility of judging and selecting those who should get into that group later. Our informal motto, “Absolute faith not required. An open heart is,” is truly all this group asks of the people who come here. ECP does what a Christian community should do. It recognizes that if you are here, you are selected. You are chosen. And you are loved by God. In a few moments, you will see and participate in the true symbol of this acceptance. When it comes time for communion, Steve always makes the point- this is not his table, Peggy’s table, or the chapel’s table – this is God’s table. Everyone is invited to take communion, regardless of your faith or your history. We have all received an invitation to eat and to be a part of God’s family.

Even at the non-selective eating clubs, there is a cutoff limit. There are only so many mouths that one kitchen can feed, only so many chairs that can fit in a dining room under fire code. It is only at God’s table that we can all gather as a family. There is enough food, and more, for everyone. God’s table is truly a table of abundance.

After communion, we will say the Rite I Post Communion Prayer. At the end of it, we ask God to help us to “continue in that holy fellowship” after we leave and to live out the good works He has planned for us. We recognize that we leave this physical gathering behind us, but at the same time, we carry its spirit into the world. As John writes in his letter, a little after our reading from tonight, “Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with action and in truth.” The words we have said tonight should enter our actions throughout this week and our lives, always recognizing that every person we encounter – no matter who they are – is a child of God and a brother and sister in Christ. We must recognize that all people share Christ’s human form with us – and that they are part of our own family.

Amen.