Proper 7

Elizabeth M. Hoster
June 24, 2007

Note: It was brought to my attention after the second service that the Jewish prayer I refer to in this sermon is still in use – it is part of the Siddur, and is prayed by some Jews twice a day. Also, the prayer, in context, means that the person praying is thanking God for the responsibilities given to him, and for God’s help in making him "up to the task." I wrote the sermon thinking that this was a prayer that had gone out of use some time ago. I still submit this sermon to the web site as preached, but, were I to do it over, I would add the above interpretation, and say, "to our Christian ears, this prayer sounds like..."

I am committed to interfaith dialogue and understanding, and I apologize for any offense given.

---

For the brief year I was a chaplain resident up at Ruby Memorial Hospital in Morgantown, we had an interesting bit of confusion that would happen.

You medical professionals–keep in mind that this was back before HIPPA: When patients checked in to the hospital, they would be asked about there religious backgrounds. The daily roster of patients in the hospital, which was at the information desk for everyone to see, had their religion listed with their names. Ministers would come into the hospital, scan down the far right hand side of the page, find those who matched their denomination, and make the rounds.

Well, one person at the intake desk–we never did figure out who–would get “Episcopal” and “Apostolic” confused.

Sure enough, one day, I went into a man’s room. He had had a perforated appendix that had been removed, had had blood poisoning, and was out of intensive care. I walked in, introduced myself, and asked how he was doing. He said he was still weak, still in some pain. He seemed a little hesitant with me, but was grateful for the offer of prayer. I held his hand, prayed in my quiet way, and said amen.

No sooner did I finish than half a dozen beefy guys from this man’s church burst into the room, called him brother, exclaimed loudly how they had driven over an hour to see him in the hospital, and had been praying for him. They gathered around the bed to pray for him. I remember a few of them looking at me a little...offish.

I was too young and stubborn and self-righteous to leave. (I’m now old and stubborn and self-righteous, but that’s another sermon...)They circled around the man, reluctantly let me in the circle (or at least that was my interpretation!), and they began praying loudly. Sweat was literally rolling off the pastor’s face. And the whole time, I just stewed. Who do these guys think they are? The God Squad? Thank God I’m an Episcopalian. Thank God I wasn’t born into their denomination–they wouldn’t even let me be a minister!

Afterward, they told him they loved him, and promised to keep praying. I finally had sense enough to leave the room so they could visit.

And you know what? The man was immensely relieved, re-heartened, and encouraged. He got better and was discharged a few days later, back into the arms of the community that had prayed so hard for him to return to health.

This man had appeared grateful and responsive to both prayers–but clearly the latter was more his style. And clearly we were praying to the same God, shared the same Bible (and we all used KJV at one point!) The same Christ, and the same hope.

If we had all sat down at a different time, we would have found a hundred things to disagree about. Maybe they wouldn’t have liked me much–nor I them. But serious illness does put things into perspective.

Paul is also trying to put things into perspective this morning. His letter to the Galatians was written to a church that had a lot of this kind of prayer going on–prayer that indicated that one brand of Christianity is better than another. The had let factionalism split them over and over. They had gotten so into what label they had–really, what denomination they were–that Paul blasts them with this letter. But he has to in order to bring them back to the thing that matters most: their common grace in the life of Christ.

In this morning’s reading, Paul is playing off of an old Jewish prayer–I don’t know where it came from, and it sounds more like one that sprung up from humanilty than from God: “Lord, thank you for not making me a foreigner, a slave, or a woman.”

It sounds like a terrible prayer–probably one God isn’t much fond of. But how do WE pray it?
Oh, Lord, thank you for not making me born a ___.

How do you fill in the blank? You don’t have to say it out loud. My version is this: Lord, thank you for not making me an Iraqi, a homeless person, or a starving child.

My point is, in our hearts, each of us is a little relieved about something. Each one of us has that secret prayer of “Thank God I’m not.” It’s not good, but it is part of us.

Where it gets out of control is when it overshadows what does matter most: that we were all created with equal value by a loving God. That’s what we ALL have in common! That is our greatest common factor!

Sometimes we try to dress this prayer up in really religious language–using that old saying, “there but for the grace of God go I. ” We need to do away with that prayer once and for all.

It’s a way of saying, “thank God not me,” which indicates that God had it in for somebody else.

If I claim that Christ is who he says he is, and did what he did, than I cannot also with the same mouth say, Oh, Lord, thank you for not making me born WHATEVER. Because, you know what? There may not BE any Episcopalians or Apostolics in God’s economy.

Because of the Grace of God, Christ went there for all of us. He took on all of those things we have thanked God we are not–which includes you and me and the whole creation. He took on Liddy and the person who says “Thank God I’m not like Liddy.”

Last Saturday evening a few of us were sitting out on the back deck of Kent and Gail Higgins’ home. For those of you who may be visiting, Kent was ordained to the Priesthood last weekend. The party was nearly over, most everyone had gone home, and Kent was speaking about the church in Hinton that he now serves. Clearly, he loves this community. He has a hope of getting people to worship together regularly, and do something together for the good of the community.

When I said, “Hey, good idea! Get the Lutherans in and talk about call to common mission,” he said, “No, Liddy, think bigger! not just them, but all the other churches. I want the Baptists there, the Presbyterians there, the community churches, everybody! At the core, we all have the same faith!”

Knowing Kent, this’ll work. We’ve ordained a good priest. I look forward to hearing about happens.

* * *
And so, as usual, what looks like the easiest lesson to understand this morning is the hardest one to follow.

Let’s keep it simple this morning: Find what your version of that prayer is: Oh Lord, thank you for not making me____________________ . Just know what it is, and give it over to God.

Then, simply replace it with, Lord, thank you for making me. And everybody else. Period.