Attention, Astonishment, Testimony | A Sermon for my Friend and Fellow Preacher
A Sermon by the Reverend Mother Crystal J. Hardin for the people of Saint David’s, Cullowhee, North Carolina, on the occasion of a Celebration of New Ministry and Saint David’s Day, March 7, 2021.
Third Sunday in Lent | Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable to you,
O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).
Gaelyn and I met in seminary and developed a closeness rooted in equal parts joy and pain. As one poet notices, “Joy and pain are but two arteries of the one heart that pumps through all of those that don’t numb themselves to really living.”[1] Perhaps you are blessed by such a friendship. I pray you are. Someone who has held your hand and your heart through the best and worst of times. Someone who has really loved you well.
Henri Nouwen reflects:
When we honestly ask ourselves which people in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.
Gaelyn has been that for me. And so, it is with great joy that I stand before you, as my dear friend Gaelyn Evangreene is installed as your rector and you begin your ministry together. I am delighted, and humbled.
Today is about more than Gaelyn, of course. She’d be one of the first to tell me to get to Jesus already. But I’d like to take a few minutes to talk about what it is that Gaelyn brings with her to Saint David’s, some of which I’m sure you know already. You have as your rector a thoughtful liturgist, an inspiring and caring teacher, a prayerful, adept leader, and a well-grounded theologian. She’s also a preacher. And it’s on this role, preacher, that I’d like to spend a few minutes.
Gaelyn and I share a deep and abiding passion for preaching, making the last lines of the psalm appointed for this morning, psalm 19, particularly fitting:
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable to you,
O Lord, my rock, and my redeemer.
The preaching task is a demanding one, for those who really give themselves to it, because it is more than a task. It’s an orientation, a way of being in the world, a life. And so, before we preach, we pray, many of us using these very words. We pray that what we bring to the pulpit glorifies God. We pray that the words we speak reach the hearts of those who listen. We pray that we preach well.
Preaching is, put simply, public proclamation of the Truth to God’s people there gathered. In today’s Epistle, Saint Paul advises a way forward for any would-be preacher, proclaim Christ crucified (1 Cor. 1:23).
Proclaim Christ crucified.
Gaelyn, we spent a lot of time in seminary trying to figure out what that means theologically. But I’ll admit to you now, just between us, that while good theology should absolutely ground our preaching, I’m not sure it is what ultimately animates it. Jesus Christ is not an abstract principle. He is the Way. The Truth. The Life. Very real. Very concrete. Very much amongst us. And not just here, in this beautiful space, but out there too. Christ is on the move, very much at work in the world.
The poet Mary Oliver, who I know you’ve been studying this Lent, would urge us into a three-fold posture of attention, astonishment, and testimony. I find this especially provoking for those who would claim the ministry of preaching.
We must pay attention to the ways in which Jesus works in the world, the ways in which He shows up with us and for us. As one writer notes, Jesus “plays in a thousand places,” the liturgical and the very ordinary. . . . He is in movies, literature, and even, sometimes, politics. He is in court rooms, hospital rooms, classrooms.[2] He is, as St. David would remind us, in the little things.
All we need do is slow down and look.
I look; Mary Oliver writes, I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.
Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
As though with your arms open.
When we truly pay attention, opening our eyes and hearts to God’s wonders, how could we be anything other than astonished.
It is for this that the psalmist rejoices:
The heavens tell God’s glory
And His handiwork the sky declares (Psalm 19:1).
The natural world sings the praises of the Creator, something you no doubt understand, being that you live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country. And yet so does the human life, our lived experiences, our relationships. God’s glory abounds and we are invited to live into its fullness. Astonishing.
From the rising of the sun to its going down
Let the Name of the Lord be praised (Psalm 113:3).
That, my friends, is testimony. Astonishment, overflowing, transforming into praise.
It is said, that as Saint David lay dying, he shared with the monks a few last words: Be joyful, brothers and sisters. Keep your faith and do the little things that you have seen and heard with me. A noteworthy preacher, this his final sermon: Be joyful.
“Joy is the infallible sign of God’s presence,” writes Teilhard de Chardin. Joy may seem far from some of us now. Maybe not right now, this morning, as we are together celebrating, but perhaps later, when we return home. Life is difficult, to put it simply. So much loss. So many grieve. And yet, this joy that Saint David is talking about, this joy that he is urging, this joy that is a sign of God’s presence, this joy makes its home alongside pain in the very heart of God. This joy is not cheap, but well-earned. The shape of this joy is cruciform.
God knows what it is to live. To walk with friends. To smell the air after a spring rain. To love. To lose. To suffer. To say goodbye. To feel alone. God knows. God is present. God is with you and for you. In your joy and in your pain, a most cherished and tender friend.
And yet, God also knows ultimate power and kingship. God our cherished and tender friend also sits on the throne of Glory. Christ the King, conqueror of sin and death, is God, Emmanuel, who has taken on sin and known death on our behalf. That is astonishing.
And, that is the truth the preacher must speak into and from the lives of those gathered. And here’s the thing, the preaching task is pulpit center, sure, but it is never pulpit restricted. Each one of you here gathered, each one of you who hears these words, each one of you are called to preach. Because Gaelyn isn’t the only one here who has been called –we have all been called to the knowledge and love of God and of his Son, Jesus Christ; we all have been called to pay attention; to be astonished; to testify to God’s work in the world.
And you –you have been called into partnership with Gaelyn to preach as a parish the wonders of God’s work and words.
While God’s words can be found in Scripture, which is, incidentally, “the greatest sermon in the world,” your words, people of St. David’s, will be found deep in your lives and hearts. That is Gaelyn’s ministry here, to know you and to love you well, so that as a preacher and pastor she may carefully apply the Truth found in Scripture to the mountains and valleys of your lives. That as a rector, she can encourage and support this community in preaching to the world. Let her. Share with her your joy and your pain. She is trustworthy and will handle you with care. About that, I have no doubt.
Finally, Saint Paul would remind us that love is an essential ingredient in any sermon: For if I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am but a noisy gong or clanging cymbal (1 Cor. 13:1). Of course, this would be true, because what is Christ crucified but the fullness of love, incarnate, spilled out for you and for me. It is love that transforms a sermon from monologue to dialogue. It is love that calls us to attention, astonishment, and testimony. It is the love of God lived out that transforms the world.
Gaelyn has been called here to serve and love God in serving and loving you. Let her. In turn, love God, love Gaelyn, love your neighbor, and love one another. May God’s love working in you and through you be your joyful sermon for the world.
Amen.
[1] Ann Voskamp.
[2] https://mbird.com/2019/03/the-living-christ-and-the-principle-of-grace
[3] “Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does it End?”
