Making Space

2^nd Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. A, June 22, 2014

Genesis 21:8-21; Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Today’s my last Sunday before leaving on sabbatical and I’ve been talking about it with people, so this has been two weeks of saying good-bye, something that I didn’t expect.  Somehow as I thought about the coming three months it didn’t occur to me that people would be saying good-bye.  Given that more than a year ago, the Lily Grant process encouraged us to plan to mark the leave taking … you might wonder where my head has been.  My head has been occupied with tying up loose ends, getting tasks done, putting the house in order you might say.  My mind has been on St. Stephen’s and I thought I could just silently slip away from other responsibilities.

Someone else is taking on the presidency of the SWEM board for three months.  The Nazareth Collaboration is taking a break from meeting and will reconvene in September.  When we parted all the SSJ came over and gave me a hug and wished me a restful sabbatical.  Other Episcopal members of that group are moving that work forward in our diocese while I am away.  When I met with the deacons this week, Lynne brought gluten-free cookies for our last meeting together before I leave.  When I met with the SWAN Faith-based Coalition I had to tell them I couldn’t make the next meeting.  Actually, I wouldn’t be around for a while.  After the meeting, many came over and asked about my plans and when I would be back.  Many wished me a restful sabbatical.  On Monday Jim and Bonnie and I met with many of our Building Partners to talk about building concerns and let them all know who to contact while I am away.  At the end of that meeting, several came forward to give me a hug and wish me well.  Just yesterday, I was in the parking lot leaving church, and two representatives from the High Nooners AA group approached me about a time to meet.  They had missed the meeting, and I told them I would be away starting on Monday.  They would have to meet with someone else.  More hugs, more well wishes.

I’ve been thinking about this time as OUR sabbatical, but this week, it occurred to me that even though it is OUR sabbatical … I am the one leaving.  I am not good at letting go.  I start to get anxious about things that I feel need to be done over the summer … especially projects that are dear to my heart … the work of St. Stephen’s … the Nazareth Collaboration … feeding the hungry in SW Rochester.  I don’t want to miss the Farm Stand opening or the gatherings in the garden this summer.  I don’t want to miss the rest of the Turning Points workshops planned for the summer or my CPE peer meetings.  If we get the GRHF grant for a new boiler, I want to be able to run down to the boiler room and watch it emerge.  And most of all, I want to be around the good people who have called this place home.  Even though I am celebrating this freedom, and I know it as a gift … all the hugs have reminded me that there is also loss in freedom.  Making space is a process of emptying, something Jesus called us to do over and over again.  We are to empty ourselves to be freed for God.  We lose something to gain something else.

I’ve started to think that maybe that’s why this sabbatical is so important for me, and perhaps for us as a community as well.  We are a busy place.  There will always be a lot to do, but how often do we make intentional space to be?  How often do we make space to grow deeply in the spirit together without another priority getting in the way?  That’s difficult.

On Tuesday, I encouraged the vestry to take some time to visit other congregations, especially Trinity (Greece) and St. Mark & St. John’s here in the city, to see what they are doing with their worship, to see how it feels and to think about how our life in worship might be enlivened as well.  I will be visiting other places and that shared experience might be interesting to talk about when we return. 

An idea that came out of our Lily Grant conversation was that we read a book together over the sabbatical.  I suggested we read The Mission-Shaped Church, a book that talks about fresh expressions of church emerging in England.  But Bonnie suggested A Fault in the Stars, a book that delves more into the Spirit.  I had to laugh at myself.  My suggestion was more work, and hers was more fun.  So, pick up a book and read along with us.  I enjoy the feeling of checking things off my to-do list, and sometimes those tasks actually get in the way of paying attention to the deeper Spirit that moves within us all.  That tendency forces me into the dry wilderness experience of Hagar and Ishmael … into a place of scarcity and risk.  I enjoy the challenge, but it wears on me and it can wear on all of us.  Sabbatical is a time to break that cycle and remember that God sends angels to remind us of God’s continual presence.

I remember when Michael Hopkins took his first sabbatical here in Rochester.  I was still working at Two Saints.  Michael left and we all took a collective breath.  The pace seemed to slow even though we had each taken on a bit more responsibility in his absence.  Though we missed his daily presence, we were glad he was gone!  The mice were free to play!  When problems came up, we made our own decisions about how to address them.  It was empowering. It was good for all of us, parishioners as well as staff.

Our sabbatical time will be much the same.  I’m struggling a little with letting go and I will be voicing my opinion and giving a few last minute directions until midnight tonight, but I will let go.  I go on retreat tomorrow morning for three days, and time will quickly begin to feel different to me, and to you.  Thank you for this gift.  I am grateful to have it.  I may not be here every day, but I will be with you in Spirit, and God will be with us all.  A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master.  Jesus often went away to pray and to make space within himself for God to speak, and so should we.  My hope is that we can be emptied just as Jesus was, so that we can be filled with God’s self-giving Spirit all over again. 

Amen