As some of you already know, my
family just returned from a vacation to Walt Disney World in Florida, which was
a trip my father happened to win in a fundraising raffle at his alma mater. The
last time I had been to Disney World was over twenty years ago, and my only
memory of the occasion was of long lines—too long, in fact—for all the rides. This
time was drastically different. The longest I think we had to wait to board a
ride was twenty minutes, and that happened only once. Most of the time we just
walked right in, Fast Pass in hand, winding our ways through the mostly-empty
ropes and stanchions to the spot where you get on.
What amazed me about this was
the efficiency at which the amusement park moves large numbers of people
through the rides. It’s an exact science they’ve honed from years of practice. At
the end of each system of lines, for example, just before you’re supposed to
get on the ride, stands a Disney employee who is counting off the people and
quickly dividing them into sections so that when the next car—or teacup or
magic carpet—comes along the precise number of riders are ready to get on the
ride. Most of the rides need to have weight and number of passengers evenly
distributed. There is no wasted space. Each compartment is filled to capacity, and
most of the time all of us got to sit together. Like I said, it is a science, and
those Disney employees know exactly where to place extra people and how to fill
up empty seats.
In this morning’s lesson from
Acts we learn that the first apostles were faced with an empty slot that needs
to be filled. The journey of the church is about to be launched, and one seat
among twelve remains empty. Twelve disciples had originally been chosen to
inaugurate God’s ministry with Jesus, but Judas had bailed. He had been missing
ever since that fateful night he turned Jesus into the Roman authorities. To
us, the number twelve may seem a bit arbitrary and no big deal, but it was
deeply important to the mission of Jesus. Twelve disciples corresponded to the
twelve tribes of ancient Israel, the people from which Jesus came. The number
twelve was that perfect amount that signaled to all Jews that God’s people were
being restored. The New Testament is not completely clear on what actually
happens to Judas, but it is clear that his absence leaves a hole that needs to
be addressed in order for the community of Jesus’ followers to begin their
mission and, it would seem, to be taken seriously. You could say it is too, in
some way, an issue of proper balance and ratio.
 |
| icon of the election of Matthias |
And so the community of
Jesus’ followers is forced to make its first big decision: who will fill that
seat as the church is propelled into the world? Peter begins by consulting
Scripture, underlining the fact that the Word of God will always be a guide for
Jesus’ people. Facing a problem or a test? A study of scripture is always a
good place to start finding a resolution. The particular part of the story
where Peter quotes the Old Testament is not included in our reading for today, but
it is important to note that the community of believers begins by basing its
understanding of mission and identity in Holy Scripture. As it lurches into the
future, the church will never completely be flying solo. The Word of God goes
with it. In this case, Scripture tells them to “let another take his place,” and,
lucky for them, there happen to be several people to choose from, men—and even
certain women—who had been with Jesus throughout the time of his public
ministry. Two candidates from this bunch are then put forward and the entire
group prays and deliberates. A man named Matthias is chosen by the casting of
lots. The boat is filled and the trip commences.
The casting of lots to settle
such a major decision is another thing that may seem awfully arbitrary to us, but,
as it happens, that was one common and accepted way to resolve decisions in the
ancient world. In fact, a similar process will be employed in the coming months
as the Coptic Orthodox Church in Egypt selects a new Pope. After honing down
all potential candidates in a very deliberative process, a five-year-old child
will be chosen to walk up to the altar during a worship service and choose one
name at random out of a box that contains three. That name will be the new
patriarch. In a culture like ours, where a democratic process seems like the
only rational option for deciding leaders, this method seems strange, maybe
even a little superstitious, but we need to realize that this was the system
they trusted. They understood that God was somehow part of the process, that
God “knew the hearts” of each of the candidates they had vetted, and most
importantly that God could work with whatever outcome resulted.
Interestingly, we never hear
of the apostle Matthias again, nor of the alternate candidate, the guy with three
names: Joseph, Barsabbas, and Justus. And in book that is named “The Acts of
the Apostles,” that is perhaps peculiar. The point here is not necessarily who
will fill that seat but, rather, what they will together be doing so that the
mission can begin. In this case it is not so important which leadership style
Matthias has or which particular qualities any one of the apostles brings to
the table but what they as believing women and men are going to be about.
And what they will be about is
the ministry of Jesus in the world. What they will be about is embodying the
love of God in Christ for the rest of creation. It’s just like Jesus prays the
night before his crucifixion, as recorded in John’s gospel: Jesus will no
longer be in the world, but they will
be in the world, vessels of the truth. As his representatives, his body on
earth—his torso, limbs, feet, hands, fingers, ligaments and bones—they are sent
into the world, just as Jesus had been sent
by his Father. And just as the number Twelve would imply to the Jewish audience
that would originally receive them, they are sent to restore what has been
broken, bind up what has been wounded, put to rights what God has redeemed. This
decision over Judas’ replacement will be just the first in a long line of
decisions and changes and adjustments the church will need make as it lurches
forward into the future.
It is easy to think,
especially on a Sunday morning, that faith in the risen Lord Jesus is all about
this place, this sitting, this standing, this opening the hymnbook and singing,
this Sunday School class, this shaking the pastor’s hand on the way out. It is easy
to think, you confirmands, that faith in the risen Lord Jesus is all about
memorizing the Apostles’ Creed, or passing confirmation tests, or saying the
right words and believing the right doctrine. It’s easy to think all that, for
all of us, because we do spend a good bit of time concentrating on those
things. Those things are a part of it, but chiefly Christian faith is about what
those first believers discover as they select Matthias, which is also what
Jesus prayed for so fervently in his last night before dying.
It is about this wild but
joyous ride together with the brothers and sisters around us where we learn to
love in the right and healthy ways, where Scripture illuminates our
conversations. It is where the cross constantly reminds us of God’s
forgiveness, and where the Spirit enables us to be our true selves and lets our
gifts blend and join up with each other’s so that the whole is much, much
greater than the sum of its parts. That is the ride that Matthias’s election helped
kick off that day which we, believe it or not, are still on.
Yet we are aware that life in
the Church is often painful and frustrating for many, filled with conflict and
disputes about everything from what kind of candles should be on the altar to
which version of the Lord’s Prayer we should say in worship. We are aware, for
example, of the young person who, despite everyone’s efforts, still feels
shunned or left out at youth group. And of the visitor who attends worship
several times but is never genuinely greeted by a member. And of the committee
member whose opinions seem to be repeatedly ignored. Sometimes I even wonder about
those who supported Joseph-Barsabbas-Justus instead of Matthias. Were they
angry? Did disappointment get the best
of them? I guess I’m just thankful they didn’t make a stink about it. Sad to
say, but those things are also going to be a part of the life of this imperfect
community called the church. Yet at its core, these kinds of issues and how we
talk to each other about them, how we include others’ ideas and sacrifice personal
agendas for the sake of the gospel is absolutely central to who we are as the
people Jesus prays for. Christine Pohl, provost at Asbury Seminary puts it very
bluntly in her new book on church community, “The character of our shared life
in congregations, communities, and families has the power to draw people to the
kingdom or to push them away. How we live together is the most persuasive
sermon we’ll ever preach.”[1]
In the days and weeks
following Epiphany’s Youth Sunday on April 29, I received so many positive and
sincere comments about the youth group. Many directed those comments at me, as
if the youth group adult leaders were the main ones responsible for the sermons
they preached or the other gifts they shared. It occurred to me that what we
heard and saw on Youth Sunday was nothing more (and nothing less) than a
reflection of the best in yourselves. Their words and vision, their
understanding of Scripture and worship and the public witness of Christ have all
been formed not so much by a particular pastor or leader, but by the witness of
this congregation and their parents. It is this community’s life that has
nurtured them. My friends, if we are moved by any offering of gifts, if find
ourselves drawn closer to the kingdom by any expression of the gospel here, we
may count it as yet another example of how Christ, in our baptism, has chosen
us for the ride, counted us as a part of the number, and has put us to work as
his body in the world.
Come to think of it, maybe
we’d get the point better if our pews were equipped with those safety bars on
Disney rides that come down and strap you in. Maybe then we’d get the notion
that we are, indeed, moving in a direction, that the church is a ride that
lurches and zooms into the future where God knows our hearts and urges us to
share our gifts.
Step right up, boys and
girls, men and women, and take your places.
Hold on tight…because this
could get wild.
But you can bet, most of the
time it’s going to be…fun!
Thanks be to God!
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
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