The Rev. Fred G. Garry - March 3, 2002
Text: John 4 There's a Beirnsteen Bear book
that I enjoy reading to my children. The story is very simple;
father bear wants to take his family for a picnic. The story
chronicles one simple bear's desire to provide his family with
a wonderful time. I enjoy this story for two reasons. One is
that I can relate a bit to father bear and his zealotry. The
second reason is that there is a timely lesson for pastors and
churches.
The tension of the story is that father
bear doesn't want any spot so to picnic, he wants the perfect
spot. In pursuit of the perfect spot he drags his family all
over Bear County.
Along the way they are swarmed by mosquitoes,
engulfed by a school group, swept away by a jetliner, rained
upon, and then finally, confronted with a giant eagle. With each
spot father bear tells his cubs, this is the perfect spot only
to have something go awry. In the end they return to their front
lawn where they have a wonderful picnic as father bear say, now
this is the perfect spot.
I can relate to this story as a father
for there have been many drives, walks, or climbs that I have
taken my children and even my wife down or up so to find a great
moment. Many times have I been led to say or almost say, "hey,
come on, this is supposed to be fun!" Sometimes this has
led to amazing moments; sometimes it has just been a great expense
of gas and time to play with children in a park 80 miles away
who would have been just as happy to play at a park two miles
away.
I can also relate to this story as a
pastor. Church's can be led down many such trips, looking for
perfection, the perfect spot. Compounding this rather dubious
propensity would be the fact that I don't know of any other institution
that is as prone to the quest for utopia than American Protestant
Churches. Somewhere along the line in our genetic code, our most
basic structure, we were written with a desire for perfection.
From Shakers to Quakers, Pentecostals to Presbyterians all American
Protestants have at one point fallen prey to the quest for perfection.
At no time does this tendency come clearer
in Presbyterian Churches than in a pastor search. Dossier after
dossier is scoured and examined, interview after interview is
done looking for that illusive perfect fit. It is not uncommon
for churches to go through a few hundred dossiers to pick one
pastor. This takes time- sometimes years- and is ever fined with
the tension of the perfect fit.
Abby received a letter about this once
and I can't help but believe this was a Presbyterian Church.
The author was unknown or anonymous perhaps to protect the protestant,
or innocent. The letter begins, Dear Abby:
"One of the toughest tasks a church
faces is choosing a good minister. A member of an official board
undergoing this painful process finally lost patience. He'd just
witnessed the pastoral relations committee reject applicant after
applicant for some minor fault ... real or imagined. It was time
for a bit of soul searching on the part of the committee. So
he stood up and read this letter purported to be from an applicant."
Gentlemen: Understanding your pulpit
is vacant, I should like to apply for the position. I have many
qualifications. I've been a preacher with much success and also
have had some successes as a writer. Some say I'm a good organizer.
I've been a leader most places I have been.
I'm over 50 years of age and have never
preached in one place for more than three years. In some places,
I have left town after my work caused riots and disturbances.
I must admit I have been in jail three or four times, but not
because of any real wrongdoing.
My health is not too good, though I still
accomplish a great deal. The churches I have preached in have
been small, though located in several large cities.
I've not gotten along well with religious
leaders in the towns where I have preached. In fact, some have
threatened me, and even attacked my physically. I am not too
good at keeping records. I have been known to forget whom I have
baptized.
However, if you can you use me, I promise
to do my best for you.
"The board member turned to the
committee and said, 'Well, what do you think? Shall we call him?'
The other members were appalled. Consider
a sickly, contentious, poor administrator who's an ex-con? That
would be insane! Who would have such presumption?
The board member eyed the others and
replied, 'Its signed, 'The Apostle Paul."'
Perfection is a strange pursuit. If asked
directly few would admit they are looking for it. Yet in truth
perfection is a subtle seductress that woes the heart. Often
times you can hear it in claims like: you would think that sort
of thing wouldn't happen in a church; or, we hold pastors to
a higher standard; or, this will ruin the church. Behind all
of these statements is a subtle desire for things to be better
than the world outside, and by inference moving toward perfection.
Again, few will admit to the pursuit
of perfection directly. Yet indirectly it is not hard to see.
This is what John the gospel writer tried to do. When he wrote
his gospel, which was almost not included in our Bible, he tried
to turn a mirror on the church's quest for perfection. Last week
with Nicodemus we saw this with the quest in the form of law
and control. For John, Nicodemus is a hidden disciple because
his title covers his willing to throw off the pursuit of purity
or perfection and follow Jesus. In our passage today we have
the other side: a transparent disciple who has nothing to hide.
Nicodemus was a Pharisee with social
clout and power. He had access to Pilate and was in on the conversations
about the fate of Jesus. The early church would not have Eked
to be compared to Nicodemus, yet to be compared with a powerful
man who was a risk taker is not all that bad. But in our passage
today, John takes a whole different tack. He moves from the powerful
with Nicodemus, to the powerless with the women at the well.
In both instances though his message is the same, being a disciple
is being like them, like a ruined Pharisee, and in this instance,
like a Samaritan prostitute.
The church is like a Samaritan prostitute.
It was claims like this that caused the early church fathers
to debate whether or not to include the Gospel of John in the
list of official books for the Bible. Imagine if I turned to
the session one evening and said, "where before we have
tried to adopt current management theories and recent philosophical
trends to lead the church, today we will start using the Gospel
of John. Our model for church management will be the Samaritan
prostitute." At the very least the evening would be memorable.
The account of John that Jesus was walking
through Samaria and spoke with a woman at a well is mundane and
believable. Yet what transpires is rather fantastic. The first
is that a Jew in good standing would talk with any Samaritan.
This was just not done. Samaritans were considered unclean. It
was as if they had a social disease and if you got too close
you too would be infected. Moreover this Samaritan was a woman.
Already we have two strikes. And then Jesus exposes her trade.
She was a prostitute. The early church had a three strikes rule
as well. Samaritan, woman, and then prostitute. That Jesus would
talking to her was fantastic for the day. But what he said to
her is fantastic for all time.
John records that Jesus tells her he
is the Christ. At no other time has Jesus been so plain and forthright,
and yet remember whom he tells: he tells the Samaritan woman.
What is worse is that the Samaritan woman is a prostitute. When
John wrote his gospel it was believed that those who know Jesus
as the Christ are the church. And this knowledge was a gift,
a revelation, a moment of salvation. So here we have Jesus revealing
himself to another in the most plain and powerful of terms, "hey,
that's me," yet, the person to whom he reveals himself to
is not the best.
Closer to the point she is the worst.
The Samaritan prostitute is literally the lowest of the low,
the worst of the worst. Insult to injury John turns her into
a preacher. She goes and tells of Jesus. She brings people to
Christ. John says many Samaritans came to believe because of
her, because of her testimony. And many more it says came and
heard and believed Jesus on account of her efforts. John takes
the lowest of the low and says, here is the church: the one who
receives the truth and offers it to others.
We must ever remember that John could
have chosen a different account, another one of the stories of
Jesus to paint a picture of the church. There are lots of stories
we have a Jesus that could have served to describe the church,
why would John pick a Samaritan prostitute and say, this is the
church?
It could have been to be sensational-
John's gospel caused quite a stir. I have all confidence that
if the elders adopted a mission statement that said Summit Avenue
believes we are called to be like a Samaritan prostitute, at
the very least people would actually talk about the mission statement.
It could have been to be provocative. This is the kind of irony
John uses throughout his gospel to provoke questioning and reflection.
Yet, I believe the reason was not one
of style or literary device.
device. The reason was a warning. For
I believe the early church, just like the medieval church, and
the renaissance church, and the modem church and the church today
is ever prone to the seduction of perfection. In using the Samaritan
prostitute as a picture of the church, perfection is not really
an option. She would never be considered as a good candidate
for elder or deacon or pastor in a perfect church, she would
most likely not feet welcome in a perfect church, she would most
likely be seen as the problem of society, not a person with whom
we could find Christ. With the Samaritan prostitute, though,
people found Christ.
It doesn't take long to lose sight of
someone like a Samaritan prostitute, to put her in the past.
I don't know if such a person could ever be glorified or placed
on a pedestal.
Yet perhaps that is John's point. It
is so easy to move beyond the people like her, for power or place
to become the church. And when this happens the next step has
been rather consistent, the church loses sight of our basic mission,
to tell people about Jesus Christ. To tell others the good news
what John was trying to put forward with the Samaritan prostitute.
At the very least John got the attention
of the early church with his gospel. It was a gentle yet powerful
wake up call. For how easily this happens not only to the church,
but each of us. How easily we begin to remove ourselves from
the fray of life, from the challenge of following Christ. How
easy it is to build appearances and codes of conduct, how easy
it is to build rules of decorum so to perfect the passion of
Christ. No rules would have worked for the Samaritan prostitute;
she was beyond the realm of decorum. She was transparent. Her
faults, her life, her self were there for all to see. She had
no need for pretension, because her life was transparent. So
transparent, when she called people to see the Christ, that was
all they could see. There was so much the church needed to learn
from her; there is so much the church needs to learn from her.
Amen.
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