Gathered
Exodus 12:1-14; Matthew 18:15-20

September 7, 2008


What do you do after the ninth plague? You have zapped the Evil Empire with some horrific pestilences - blood, frogs, gnats, flies, livestock, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness - and the enemy has flinched but not given in, it’s been bent but not broken. The Pharaoh would not let God’s people go and his heart was hardened once again.

This tenth plague is guaranteed, says the Lord to Moses, the death of all the first born, human and animal in Egypt. It is remembered as Passover, the exception of Israel to the plague. But this time, God is so sure that it will break down the hard heart of Pharaoh that God lays out what Israel shall do in the future, every year, to celebrate the day that has not yet come. The blood of a lamb painted on the doors of the Israelites was the sign for God to make the angel of death pass over and the not the last time that blood of a lamb would signify the salvation of God’s people.

It is easy to be caught up in the passion and violence of these events, the bloody oppression of the Israelites by the Egyptians, the bloody final plague that so spectacularly took so many lives, and to be indignant for one side or the other, yet to miss the overall point of the passage. Anyone who is reading this, reads it or hears it being read well after it has happened. We have been gathered not only to remember what has happened, but to do our best to recreate the passion and the anxiety and the hope for a new life. We have been gathered in the hope that the encounter with God might be repeated, that God would overwhelm us with his presence once again.

For Jewish communities and families this climaxes in the Passover Seder meal in which there is always a sense of expectation of something extraordinary, even as those around the table are reminded how extraordinary they already are. An empty chair and setting at the table is reserved for the prophet Elijah, and the final words are “Next year, Jerusalem!” Most Seder meals do not reach the same pitch of anticipation and excitement that swirled around the original events. God does not always become palpably present around the table in every heart, but it is always a possibility. They are gathered for an occasion.

In August 1882, the government decided to establish its capital right here where only a pile of bones marked its distinction. Regina Victoria had its beginning and in that era of rapid westward expansion, the Presbyterians and Methodists were alert to every possibility to expand the kingdom. Legend has it that as the train headed into the new territories, the Presbyterian and Methodist missionaries would be elbowing each other to perch themselves on the cow catcher as they pulled in, jumping off first to proclaim the new town for their respective churches. I guess it didn’t really happen that way here, because both denominations held tent meetings within a week or two of the founding of Regina, and it is from those meetings that Knox and Metropolitan and now Knox-Metropolitan date their beginnings. By the way, the Methodists won by a week.

In both cases, these infant churches were gathered; they just did not spontaneously appear. Yes, Methodist preacher W. J. Hewitt and Presbyterian colleague J. W. Mitchell acted with much forethought and planning to gather disciples to form churches in this place and while they knew what their purpose was, they had no idea what they were getting into and who they were getting. Among many others throughout 126 years they got us. So look around, you and I are what happens when we are gathered. Keep looking, because it proves the point - nobody in his or her right mind would purposely come together with such an odd collection of people. You may think you were choosing this congregation by a rational free decision, but you were actually gathered. That has some consequences and some real benefits.

A number of times when I have interviewed with the search committee of a church, I have heard this familiar refrain. “Well, you know that this is a very diverse congregation. A lot of very different people, and some of us don’t think the way the rest of us do. Do you think you can handle that diversity?” They were sincere and thought that being different their church was an anomaly, a strange and unusual collection that no sane minister would want to put up with. After hearing this same refrain a few times, I had to work hard at not laughing. I have never known a church that is not more than a little diverse, a little odd. Isn’t that what a church is supposed to be?

A big university had had some problems flare up between its students, so it was decided to have “diversity training” during orientation week. One of the chaplains sat with a small group of students, some African American, others Asian, and assorted Caucasians, some of whom were from European countries. “Have you ever experienced any words or act of prejudice or bigotry here at the university?” he asked. Silence. “None of you? That surprises me.”

A young blond woman spoke up, “I don’t know if this is what you mean, but I think I have experienced bigotry?” The chaplain was surprised, “You?” “I had a professor a while ago say to me at the end of a class, ‘I can’t believe that you are a Baptist. You seem so intelligent.’” And then a young black woman added, “Oh, I didn’t know that is what you meant. Yes, I have heard many snide, prejudiced comments. I am a Baptist too.” (Don’t worry, I am sure they tell United stories across the street - First Baptist Church).

There are lots of growing congregations around the continent that build upon the concept of homogeneous churches, people like us coming together, and that works very well. It works well until there is a diversity of opinion about something important. That’s why Jesus begins talking about what happens when things are not harmonious and there is strong disagreement and conflict, when somebody has done something wrong to you.

Jesus presents what on the surface appears to be a set of legal procedures - talk directly to the offender first by yourself, then if necessary bring along someone else as witness, then two others and so on. We have missed the point if we follow these procedures rigidly, for they are Jesus’ way of saying restoring justice and relationships don’t result from setting up and following a bunch of laws. Reconciliation derives from meeting another human being and finding some way to be honest and compassionate and forgiving and renewing one another. But being human beings does not guarantee we always will reconcile with one another, and there is a time to let go. “The time when two or three people are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” It is in the middle of conflict that you and I are gathered, dragged together to face our common lot, that Christ’s presence and spirit enables us to look at one another and think right, think compassionately, forgive and reconcile.

The American Civil War was one of the terrible blights on that country’s history, something Canadians have never done, yet we should never be so arrogant we haven’t committed some of the same sins. Just after the Civil War had ended, a small crowd had assembled on the edge of the White House and when Abraham Lincoln saw them he came out and joined them, along with a band. Everyone was in high spirits, and Lincoln spoke about the horrors of war and how now everyone should work to get back together and heal the wounds, that brothers and sisters should join each other again. Lincoln added he was going to ask the band to play something in a few minutes.

Everyone thought it would be the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” which had become the Union’s theme song. “I am not sure that music is appropriate now,” he responded, “that we have won the war. I want the band to play ‘Dixie’.” The band almost dropped their instruments and everyone was openmouthed. The band looked at one another, because they didn’t have the music for Dixie and hadn’t played it for quite a while. After a long pause, they got it together and played Dixie. There was not a dry eye in the crowd. Where two or three are gathered together, Christ is in our midst, and we sing each other’s songs.

It’s better that you and I are gathered, for that means that we are taken care of. Gathered, we are not so prone to believing the church is our invention, that we have created this wonderful institution by our own genius. The Reverends Hewitt and Mitchell knew well that they were only starting something that God would gather together and continue, a gathered congregation of the faithful and perhaps a few less faithful that, thank God, in our wisdom we are not allowed to select. An odd bunch of us gathered here, but since there is more than two of us, Christ is in our midst now, reconciling us to the world.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan