Sermon for Holy Trinity Sunday, May 18, 2008

Endings are rather problematic for me. To state the obvious, they can be so sad. We’ve lived a number of places and leaving each and everyone of them was almost physically painful. And then there are the endings of chapters in our lives. Those can be so bittersweet. I remember years ago when my friend and I had a yard sale to get rid of all our baby paraphernalia. Our babies had become toddlers, we were not going to have any more infants. On one hand, no more night time feedings, no more diapers. On the other hand, no more rocking chairs or lullabies.

Just the other week I went back to Gettysburg for a class reunion. My friends and I reflected upon our time studying together. We remembered the bittersweet exodus from our beloved seminary. On one hand, moving into the vocation we had desired so greatly for four or more years. On the other hand, leaving behind our main source of support, our friends, indeed they had become family as we had struggled through Greek and Systematics and encouraged one another through our first sermons—and I use the term loosely.

Besides the obvious, I’m also really awful at parting with the ends of things. When we moved here I donated boxes of fabric. Not full yardage that could make something useful, no these were ends of pieces I had already used to make something—curtains or a dress for the girls years ago. It seemed to be that there had to be a use for the scraps, the end. I couldn’t’ just throw them out. I have containers holding nothing but the ends of rolls of wrapping paper; pieces not quite big enough to wrap a gift, but too big to throw out. I just hate to part with the end of something that might still have some use in it.

The endings, though, that I detest the most, are the ones that come at the end of a good story. You know how when you open a book, it’s like meeting new friends. There are exciting places to go and a new world opens up. But when you get to the final pages, the friends disappear, the world returns to the normal rhythms of life. It’s over. There’s nothing else to discover. The end.

There are no two sadder words in the English language.

So imagine my joy when I opened the readings for this week and the first words I saw were, “In the beginning…” What a treat! The beginning, the very beginning of the whole story. When God created the heavens and the earth. It’s an incredible story. There was nothing, just a formless void and God. God spoke and the void took shape. Light and shadow entered giving depth and clarity. The cycles of night and day were intertwined. Water began to flow in order for all life forms to be created. And lush plant life sprung up from the ground; grasses carpeting the world, color splashed to and fro as flowers blossomed. Then bushes dotting the landscape and majestic trees to provide shade. Plants that love the sun and plants that hide in the shadow, all beautiful and gorgeous; all created by a divine word. And then, and then…animals; glistening aquatic animals, splashing and playing in the water, insects buzzing and busily pollinating the flowers, reptiles soaking up the sun, furry creatures gathering at water holes. Large cats and tiny mice; mammals with wings hanging from trees while whiskered critters pop in and out of holes and dens in the ground. With a divine word, there was a beginning.

And then God decided another creature was in order and humanity was born, filled with the breath, the very spirit of God. And all was good and God was delighted and on the seventh day God rested. And the story comes to a close. Since the beginning of time parents have whispered this story to their children, closed the book and said, “The end.” The story is over.

So I opened my Bible to the next lesson for today which comes from Paul’s correspondence with the Corinthians. Now, Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is an amazing work. Scholars tell us that we have pieces of perhaps as many as 5 letters combined into First and Second Corinthians. Five letters!! Letters that all started with a thanksgiving for the community, a recollection of the good that was to be found therein. “I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus.” One would never know based on those words that the community in Corinth was a huge challenge to Paul. His letters are a reflection of the turmoil going on within the congregation and his chastisement and encouragement wrapped in a cloak of love all the while never losing sight of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus as the centerpiece of their existence together. Written between the lines are Paul’s own struggles as he moved and was imprisoned and defended himself against accusations made against him by false teachers who were desperately trying to dismantle the community. These letters are magnificent examples of what it means to be community in difficult times, what it means for Christians to truly love each other—after all, it is in these letters that Paul informs us that if we don’t have love we are nothing more than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And so, wanting to sink my teeth into Paul’s words of wisdom and share them with you, I opened my New Testament with much excitement only to be faced with the words, “Finally brothers and sisters, farewell… and the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you. [The end]” Argh! Another ending!

So, that leaves the Gospel, except that I was avoiding the Gospel because I could tell just by looking at the chapter and verse numbers that we were at the end of Matthew and unlike Luke, there is no sequel. The beautiful story that Matthew weaves for us of Jesus birth and life and ministry; his call of the disciples, his patient teaching of the disciples, his struggles with his recalcitrant disciples; it’s all over. They worship, shed a few tears, he gives them his final and great commission to go out into the world to make other disciples of all nations, baptizing in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. The end.

Endings, endings, endings. Creation—seven days, God’s voice, birds, plants, animals, people. The end. A beautiful relationship between an apostle and a struggling Christian community—a bunch of letters, the exchange of prayers, and boom, it’s all over. The end. A group of disciples gathered at their master’s feet, learning lessons about the kingdom of God and boom, the end, it’s all over.

Or is it? Is it an ending or really just a beginning?

On the eighth day of creation, when the creatures wake from their slumber, who cares for them? God’s final words in creation pointed to the future, not the past. God stood in Eden, face to face with humanity, pointed to the wonders of all that was good and said, “Take care of this, be good stewards of all I have given you. Continue the work of creation.”

Paul’s final words to his beloved church pointed to the future, not the past. After Paul’s death, who inspired the church? Paul admonished a congregation to play nice, to be good stewards of the good news of Jesus Christ, to care for one another. Continue the work of the church.

With heavy hearts the disciples gathered around Christ and heard words that pointed to the future, not the past, “Go, make disciples.” It sounds remarkably like God’s words in creation, “Go, be fruitful and multiply.” Care for creation. Care for the world. Continue the work of creation in my name, with me, for I will be with you forever.

Friends, this brings us to the end of the sermon, with no nice neat bow to tie everything all together. So, go, care for one another, care for God’s world, continue the work of creation.

This is NOT the end.

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