Rev. Linda B. Hirst

April 28, 2002
 
John 14:1-14
 1 Peter 2:1-10
 

  A couple of weeks ago I got to participate in Career Day at Village Elementary School.  That’s when the schools invite people of varying professions to come and talk to the different grades.   I’ve done this a few times and I have to say it’s a bit intimidating.  Not talking to four classes of second graders, necessarily, although that has its moments as well.  It’s trying to complete with the likes of Mike Lee and his tree bucket or Butch Ziobrowski and his racing cars or Ruth Maddix and her camouflage gear from the National Guard.  Iím pretty much a girl with a robe and a couple of stoles.  Still, each year I try to hold my own and make ministry as exciting a career as possible.

 So I went into the classrooms and held them guess who I was and what I did.  Several thought I was a priest, one little girl said I was a nun, one little boy called me Father.  Fortunately, there were some children from this church there who knew me so they identified me as a minister, and when I asked them how many days they thought I worked, they correctly answered...one.  One girl - bless her heart - said, 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  It only feels like it some weeks, I told her.  I didn’t want to scare any prospective ministers away.   I asked them what it was I did - and they said "You talk a lot...about the Bible."  I guess that’s true.  We talked about all the things ministers do:  how we get to marry people.  Then I asked for a boy and a girl volunteer and I pretended to marry them - which made them squeal beyond belief.  Theyíd all seen a marriage.  We talked about funerals - how one of the most special things a minister can do is be with a family after someone they loved has died - to sit and listen and pray.  They all nodded solemnly.  They all knew someone  who had died.

  We talked about other things ministers get to do like baptize babies serve communion.  How we get to pray with people and learn about the bible and God with others, how we get to visit people who are sick and might need cheering up - theyíd all done that -  and how we get to have church suppers and do youth groups and go on mission trips.  I talked all about what ministry is and what a minister does.  I even had them try on both my ropes - white for spring, black for winter (not really) and all the stoles and we talked about the seasons of the church and the really cool symbols.  At the end, I could see the potential for 10 or 12 ministers in each class.

 I dared to ask..."So, I said, what do you want to be when you grow up?"  Twenty eager little hands went up in the air.  "Yes" I said, "with great hopefulness."
 "Iím going to be a doctor, Iím going to be a teacher, Iím going to be a tree guy and go up in a bucket, Iím going to be a race car driver, and so on and so forth."  Oh, I said.  Doesn’t anyone want to be a minister when they grow up?   There was silence until one little girl - who attends this church faithfully -  sensing my distress, raised her hand and said,  "I’ll be a minister."   So one of you out there has a minister in the making.

 What I didn’t tell the children was this:  that each one of them was already a minister - by the way they lived, by the way they loved, by the way they cared for one another.

 What I didn’t tell them was this:  that in God’s eyes, we are all ministers;  with or without the robe, and with or without the stoles.

 And what I didn’t tell them was that this thought, this understanding that we are all ministers is based on scripture.

 When the protestant reformer Martin Luther posted his 98 thesis on the door of Whittenberg Chapel in 1518, the move to reform the catholic church, to change the way things we’re done, the way they worshipped God, the they we served God, was begun.   And one of main things Luther took issue with was the hold the catholic church had on the role and nature of the priesthood:  claiming that only the priests could have communion, only the priests could seek forgiveness on behalf of the people, only the priests could act as the mediator between God and the people, only the priests could talk to God,  do God’s work.

 Luther and other reformers said,  No.  That’s not the way it is.  We all have the ability to approach God ourselves - we don’t need a mediator.  Besides, there is only one high priest -  and that is Christ.   The priesthood, these early reformers said, applies to everyone else - the whole company of the faithful in the church - all believers.   You and me.   Peter’s words spoke this truth.

 You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,   says Peter, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called   you out of darkness into his marvelous light.  Once you were not a people,   but now you are God’s people;  once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

 We are all ministers.

 Another thing I  didn’t tell all those Second graders that day was... that as ministers they are enormously talented and gifted and have this incredible power deep within them - that God dwells within them by the power of the Holy Spirit - and as a result, they can do ministerial type things like preach, teach, heal, clothe the poor, feed the multitudes, care for the sick, love the unlovable. all those things that Jesus did and more.

 It’s right there in the gospel of John - tucked away in this wonderful passage that’s so full of great stuff, you just might miss it if you’re not careful.

 After Jesus reassures his disciples that there is a place for them after this life:  "In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places, many rooms,   If it were not so would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?"

 After he extends to them an invitation to follow him, to know God.   "I am the way, the truth and the life," he says.

 After he puts a face on God when Philip says, "Show us the Father.  Please,   we want to know what God looks like,  and Jesus says.  "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.  If you want to know what God is like, just look at me."

 After all those wonderful, comforting and familiar words, Jesus says this:   "Very truly,  I tell you the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do, and in fact, will do greater works than these."

 What I didn’t tell those children that day is that they have the ability - that we have the ability - within us to do what Jesus did...and then some.  It’s a promise.  It’s a hope.  It’s an expectation.  That those who believe can and will carry on and do great things in the course of their lifetime, in the course of their ministry.

 And I didn’t tell them that most of the great things they will do in the course of their life time, some of the greatest things they will do as ministers: preaching, teaching, healing, caring for our brothers and sisters, will be done in mostly ordinary ways, as a doctor, a teacher, a tree guy in a bucket, a race car driver and so on and so forth.

 There’s a story about a woman named Jill who was trying to decide what she ought to do with her life.  She thought about going to seminary and becoming a  minister.  To help her decide, it was suggested that she work for a time as an intern in a hospital chaplain’s office.  One day Jill was approached in the hallway by a distraught and exhausted looking man.  "I don’t know what Iím asking for, "he said, "but your name tag says, ‘Chaplain.’  We’re not church people.  But my father seems to need to talk to someone before he can die.  Something’s holding him back.  Please come see what you can do for him."

 Jill began to panic, she was not a minister.  What could she do to help?  She was led into a darkened room where a frail, elderly man lay upon the hospital bed.  She touched his shoulder gently.  He acknowledged her presence with a flutter of the eyelids.  She asked if he wanted to have prayer with her.  Another flutter of the eyelids.  She mumbled through something.
 When she finished he still seemed to be holding onto something, still there was something wrong.  She thought that she might bless him, then remembered, "No, wait.  Iím not yet a minister.  Iím not ordained."  Nevertheless, with this frail, tortured figure before her, she recalled long-ago experiences of putting her three small children to bed at night, saying a blessing, signing them with the cross.

 "I can do that," she said.  "Mothers do that."  She gave the old man a gentle kiss and left the room.  Later the son found her. "Thank you, lady," he said.  "He’s gone. I don’t know what you did, but thank you."  Without thinking, Jill said, "I gave him permission to cross the street."

 In that moment Jill realized that she already had the ability - that gift to minister in Christ’s name.  Mothers and fathers already know how to bless, how to forgive, so do aunts and uncles, grandparents.  We all do.  Jill eventually decided not to go to seminary. "I don’t need to be ordained to be a minister, she said. " I already am one."
What I didn’t tell those children that day, but I hope to someday, what Iím telling you now, which you already know, but it’s good to be reminded of every now and then, is that we are all ministers.
Because we believe in God, because we believe in Christ, all the responsibilities, all the work of being a minister have been bestowed upon us: worshiping and serving God,  clothing the poor, housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, rejoicing with those who rejoice, weeping with those who weep, preaching the good news of the gospel.

 And because we believe in God, because we believe in Christ, all the gifts and abilities of being a minister have been bestowed upon us as well:  worshiping and serving God,  clothing the poor, housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, rejoicing with those who rejoice, weeping with those who weep, preaching the good news of the gospel.
It is here - together as this community of faith of First Parish Church, or whatever community you’re affiliated with, it is at home with your friends and family, in your work in Boston, Portland, Portsmouth, around town, it is in your volunteer work, that precious extra time you have that you give to people around you; adults, teens, children, animals, the earth;  it is in all these places and in all these ways that you and I are ministers.

 Remember the words of Peter:
 You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,    in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called    you out of darkness into his marvelous light.  Once you were not a people,   but now you are God’s people;  once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
Welcome to the ministry, my friends.

 Let us pray.

 Merciful God, Gentle God, you draw us to you in a loving relationship, blessing us with the talents and skills and desire to love our neighbor, to love you.  Encourage us, inspire us, fill us with your power to do good works, your good works on earth, in our communities, in our families, proclaiming your goodness and your hold on our lives to all we see.  Amen.