Preached at the Cathedral of St. Philip, Atlanta
May 12, 2024: Easter 7 Year B
I love the image in the first Psalm—the one where people who delight in God are like trees planted by streams of water. It makes me think of all of you, the faithful people of the 7:45 service, one of the most steadfast groups of worshippers in all of Christendom.
I think about how you are just as consistent as the Rite I prayers we pray together.
The clergy person changes from week to week, as does the lectionary we preach from. And you are of course eager to welcome new faces to this sacred space, always extending grace and hospitality.
These are welcome changes. These changes are like the words of our opening hymn… now the green blade riseth… love is come again like wheat that springeth green. We celebrate new life and resurrection and growth, of course. Every week—love is come again.
And yet, I also celebrate in you, not just the green blade rising, but the strong, steady, sturdy trees planted by streams of water. That is what you are.
I think about how you are planted, firmly, in the same seats of the same pews every week. Truly, when I picture the beauty of this service, I picture not just your faces, but also where those faces most often sit. Even when we worshipped outside during Covid, I can picture who would stand on this side of the cloister garden, who would stand on that side of the garden, who would stand on the steps leading up to the doors of the Cathedral.
You are like trees planted by streams of water. And this worship we share together, these prayers, this holy feast, the peace that we will soon pass from one pew to the next—all of this is the water that sustains us.
Our togetherness in Jesus Christ is the very stream of water that allows us to be rooted and grounded even in the face of the constant change of our every-day lives.
Of course, at the end of this service, we do walk out the chapel doors, and then we keep walking into the outside world. We are firmly planted here, but we are not stuck here. We are firmly planted here, but we are not hiding here. Jesus sends us into the world.
Our Gospel text today is a portion of what scholars call the “High Priestly Prayer.” In its entirety, Jesus prays for himself, then for his disciples, then for the whole world. The part that we read today is the part dedicated to the disciples—to the faithful followers of Christ.
And Jesus prays for the protection of his followers because they are not meant to confine themselves to the safety of their own tight-knit group, no. Jesus sends them into the world. They do not belong to the world, and yet they are sent into the world. Because God so loved the world.
I think this is important to remember because when we think of being “in the world but not of the world” or when we think of not belonging to the world, it can be tempting to think that the world is just some broken place we have to endure until we are reunited with Jesus in a more perfect heavenly kingdom. If we take that stance, we can come to this sacred space and consider it a respite from the crazies outside this place. We can consider church a place where we can put our guard down, rest a while, and then put our guard back up again in opposition to the evil world outside these walls.
But God so loved the world. Remember? God so loves—LOVES—the world.
We are sent into the world, not to withstand it, but to love it. We come to church, not to rest, but to fill up on the love of Jesus so that we may pour out that same love into the world. We come to church, not to put our guard down for a bit, but to learn how to let down our guard and open our hearts outside this place. We come to church, not to be surrounded by people like us, but to practice passing the peace of Christ with people we disagree with so we can extend that same peace of Christ in the world God loves so much.
At the end of this service, we’ll say together the words of one of my favorite hymns—written by priest and poet George Herbert. The final verse declares: Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise thee. We do not confine our praises to this sacred space, we do not confine our praises to early Sunday mornings. Seven whole days, not one in seven. Seven whole days—days spent in the world. Days at home, at work, at school, on planes, in shops, at appointments, on the phone. Days in the world that we do not belong to, because we belong to God, but God so loved the world, and God sends us into the world to love it also.
You are meant to be trees. Not little seedlings in a greenhouse. But trees—strong, steady, and sturdy. Trees bearing fruit. Trees that prosper.
You are meant to be trees. Trees outside, where trees thrive. Trees planted by streams of living water—by the stream, not in the stream.
May this place and these prayers and this feast nourish you, just as your presence nourishes this whole Body of Christ. May this stream of water fill you up so that you may go forth from this place in the name of Christ ready to love this world God loves so much.
Amen.
lauren laughs 