Sermon for 4 Pentecost: Proper 9-B July 6, 2003

by The Rev. Susan Anslow Williams

particular focus on 2 Corinthians 12:2-10

 

Can You Love to Tell the Story?

 

Although it’s not quite my usual summer reading fare,      I’ve been tempted to purchase Hillary Rodham Clinton’s autobiography, as it remains at the top of the NY Times best-seller list for non-fiction. Some of her critics wonder aloud or in print about whether “Non-fiction” is really the correct category at times; and I suppose that all of us have the tendency to re-write our stories and memories as our perspectives change and our little gray cells start to wither...

 

Still I’m intrigued, as much by Hillary’s story as by the reactions she provokes – from awe to mockery to unacknowledged fear – among her readers, listeners and constituents like us New Yorkers. Her story inspires us, not just to observe but to take action on the issues we either agree or disagree with her about. And so it is a story worth reading.  As I looked up the latest NY Times best-seller list the genre of autobiography is well-represented, with two memoirs advertised as such and three others masquerading as exposés among the top twelve non-fiction titles.[1]

 

Telling one’s own story in such a public way tends to be a privilege reserved for the rich, famous or infamous; and I’m certainly not planning to publish something anytime soon! With the blatant example of some televangelists I can think of, Christians are generally reluctant to blow their own horn; Episcopalians perhaps foremost among them.  We like to keep our lives quite private, thanks very much. But there are times when our stories need to be told,  and the examples of our faith need to be shared –  even if they seem weird or mystifying.

 

Such was the case for St. Paul in our Epistle today, starting with that strange story of “I know a person who was caught up to the third heaven...”  (2 Cor. 12:2). As it turns out this person is himself,  and Paul is making use of a rhetorical devise to answer the Corinthians’ boast that they have heard someone new claiming direct revelation of God, who has been leading them astray from Paul’s teachings.  So Paul stakes now his claim to authority on his own extraordinary spiritual experience, a mystical vision of some sort, of which we know little else than what he says right here.

 

Such a vision would have granted Paul special status in that world, yet he is reluctant to share it – preferring instead to emphasize something else about himself, a mysterious “thorn in the flesh” that has been troubling him for several years. This malady has been the subject of many hypotheses, from a physical ailment such as epilepsy or a speech impediment, to depression or even homosexuality.  But we just don’t know.  What we do know from Paul’s writings is that he prayed that he might be delivered from this problem; and when he was not, he realized that his own weakness was but a further sign of God’s power and grace in his life.  Hence he is willing to go out on a limb and be vulnerable, telling this problem-plagued church in Corinth  about his own experiences, so that they might learn about  God’s grace and mercy, and have new hope for the future.

 

We’re also not sure how well this strategy worked; for lost are any return letters from the Corinthians. But surely we know from our own experiences how meaningful it can be when some testifies to God working in their life. Personally, just last night I was at the calling hours for parishioner Delores Meyer, whose service I’ll do this afternoon; and her sister Dorothy, after meeting me and seeing my collar, began to tell me of a miraculous healing she had experienced and how she likes to tell perfect strangers in the grocery store that Jesus loves them.  She says the response is generally very favorable!

 

Now even I don’t usually practice evangelism at Wegman’s. But I do know that when I’ve experienced troubles, or seem to have no energy for what I’m doing, the first-hand witness of someone who has experienced God’s love in a similar situation can truly work wonders.  I’m convinced that’s how the Spirit works best.

 

Those of you who were here on Pentecost Sunday at 10, weren’t you moved as Stanley Weeks talked about his 91 years of membership at St. Luke’s, his memories of being active as a child chorister and acolyte, and later as a Sunday School teacher and vestry member?[2]  What wonderful testimony to an active faith, from someone who has traveled the world but calls St. Luke’s his spiritual home. [Go to Mr. Weeks' address.]

 

In our Gospel this morning, Jesus sends out the 12 disciples on their own travels, with very few marching orders – mostly emphasizing that they should rely on the hospitality of others, but not outstay their welcome; and keep the message simple, offering healing and good news.  These 12 followers of Jesus had seen him in action, healing and teaching and casting out demons; and they were empowered to do the same. But I suspect that what their audience wanted to hear was first hand testimony, preferably with a demonstration. I wish the twelve had left their own autobiographies, for again we are left with frustratingly few details and lots of questions.  Could they do just as much as Jesus? How good were they with those pesky demons? Did many homes or villages kick them out,   and get the dust-off-the-feet treatment?

 

Even St. Paul claimed no miraculous powers for himself, so that mission trip by the disciples must have been quite something.  But woven throughout the four Gospels and Paul’s various letters is the theme that sharing our experiences – be they amazing or humbling – is itself powerful in the spread of the Kingdom.

 

So could you do it? With a few minutes notice could you stand up here and provide a witness, a living epistle, to the power of God in your life?  Like Stanley Weeks (whom we did give advance notice) could you give a quick sketch of your faith journey and open it up for questions?  Don’t worry, calm your racing hearts, I’m not going to call for volunteers. But I’d like you to consider the prospect for a moment. First think of a time when you needed to hear Good News and someone provided it, someone shared their first-hand experience of God’s love, mercy, healing or compassion. How did that conversation make you feel? Could you sense the presence of the Holy One in your midst?

 

Now think about an occasion you could share with someone else in need. Imagine a time when you knew God was there, at a time of prayer or sacrament, one-on-one with another person or in the midst of a larger group. Can you start to put that knowledge into words? How might you share it with others – privately or publicly?

One reason I’m asking you to do this is that one of the goals of the Evangelism Committee, as well as your clergy and wardens, is to help and encourage our fellow members to tell their stories, putting flesh on belief and carrying out that Baptismal Covenant promise about “proclaiming by word and example the Good News of Jesus Christ.”[3]  Like St. Paul, perhaps you’ve had an extraordinary experience of the Divine, in a vision or a healing or an overwhelming sense of God’s presence. Or, you might have a “thorn in the flesh,” an ailment you’ve despised but might now start to sense the ways God has worked through that problem to give you new strengths, and show others about courage.

 

Tell those stories, won’t you?  When asked or when you see the opportunity, someone faltering or in need, share the faith that is in you, and you will feel it revived.

 

Another reason I’m asking this is that I can pretty much guarantee that someday, each one of us will need to hear a story from someone else.  No one is exempt from dry spells, from the need to hear the Good News over again.  And  I have a feeling there are quite a few great stories out there, even right now, just waiting to be told.

 

So practice.  Share them. Listen carefully.  And you’ll know the presence of Jesus, doing something amazing, right in your midst.