Easter 5(A) – 1 Peter 2:2-10 – Preached at Christ Lutheran Church in West Boylston
Who are we?
Julia was a young woman I knew when I was in college. Unlike most of us, she was what was known as a “townie,” a student at the college who came from the town the school was located in. For most students at what at least called itself a prestigious and expensive institution, that in and of itself would have been reason enough for humiliation. But Julia could only afford to attend college because of the significant discount she received because her mother worked there. Julia and her family were poor. They lived in a trailer park near the college, and could barely make ends meet. Her father had left them alone long ago, and both Julia and her mother had been through a string of abusive relationships. Now in college to learn to teach music, Julia’s biggest challenge was her own lack of self-worth. I always felt that, with a little more confidence, she’d be a fine musician. But nothing in her life could seem to give her that boost. She was utterly insignificant.
Who are we?
Nate was doing well for himself, a law degree and a successful career. But one day he got caught up in a personal conflict over the ethics of one of his cases. That debate spread to more of his legal department, and suddenly he found himself without a job. He’d tried to do the right thing, and lost everything because of it. Nate slipped into a deep depression, one that took him to the hospital psychiatric ward. He slowly lost his girlfriend, his home, and his will to live. After the hospital, he drifted for a few years from one homeless shelter to the next, spending his days in libraries absorbing books or in mall food courts surfing the Internet. Eventually, with the help of a social worker and good antidepressant medication, Nate found a small apartment he could maintain on his welfare check. But his life seemed to have no meaning.
Who are we?
It’s easy, I think, in a small town like this, in the tiniest of congregations, to wonder just why it is God even bothers. We’re so insignificant, the red-headed stepchild of the synod. I’ve even heard people describe us as foster children, not really wanted, not really belonging to anyone, sometimes passed from pastor to pastor like foster parents. What would it matter if our congregation just disappeared?
Who are we?
The early Christians were an odd, rag-tag bunch. Made up mostly of poor, discarded people on the margins of the Roman Empire, they were persecuted by Jews and Gentiles alike. They seemed to be nobody. But the letter of First Peter, read in our assembly these last four weeks, insists that they are somebody.
In beautiful words borrowed from the prophet Hosea, Peter says, “Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people. Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” It is as if to say, “Once you were nothing, but now you are God’s, and that makes you everything.”
We shouldn’t be surprised by this. After all, Jesus turns everything else upside-down. The last are first and the first are last. The blind can see and the leaders stumble. Even death is conquered and turned into life in Christ.
We talk about all this, but does it really sink in? Do we really understand that we have new life because Jesus lives?
Who are we?
Julia finished her degree, but somehow never became the music teacher she’d hoped. Instead, she met a man who finally treated her well, and they fell in love and married. She discovered that being a housewife, strange as it seems these days, really is what fills her with joy. She has three young children whom she loves and is devoted to. Ask any one of them and they’ll tell you she’s not insignificant. She’s the whole world to them.
Who are we?
Nate looks stuck, at first glance. He’s still living on welfare and food stamps in his run-down inner-city apartment. But he’s fallen in love, too, with someone honest and caring with whom he can share his struggles. He’s busy writing, trying to publish a set of poetry, and so far one or two of his works have been accepted by magazines. Writing makes his heart sing. So do the children he volunteers with twice a week. It’s got him thinking about becoming an English teacher, and plans are starting to come together for that next big step.
Who are we?
We are living stones, Peter says, like the living cornerstone who is Jesus. We may seem insignificant, like a stone that the builders rejected. But instead God has made us into a firm foundation, a cornerstone on which the whole building relies. As a community and as individuals, we have been through test and trial, conflict and scorn. And yet we keep returning, a sign of the sure faith we practice, the faith God has planted in us.
This is who we are.
We are a royal priesthood, Peter says, like our great high priest who is Jesus. For all our sin and sorrow, God has made us into a holy people, and we ARE holy, whole, made one in Christ and in one another. And then like priests we are sent to serve at the altar that is our wold, and given power to create new life, as we do by feeding people at John Street and the food pantry, raising funds with our Christmas tress, even sharing fellowship with one another. We bring holiness to the world.
This is who we are.
We are God’s people, Peter says. We belong to Christ, in whom we have been baptized. And Christ is risen, and so are we. Christ stands before our very eyes, again and again, and makes us his. Alleluia. Amen.