{"id":1169,"date":"2015-08-02T11:00:45","date_gmt":"2015-08-02T15:00:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/?p=1169"},"modified":"2019-10-08T12:52:15","modified_gmt":"2019-10-08T16:52:15","slug":"personal-faith-and-the-beloved-community","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/2015\/08\/02\/personal-faith-and-the-beloved-community\/","title":{"rendered":"Personal Faith and the Beloved Community"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here to listen to the full service<\/a><\/p>\n

John 6:24-35<\/a><\/p>\n

Click here to listen to the sermon only<\/a><\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

Among the powers that drew us here to Boston, was the chance to labor in the shadow of Howard Thurman and to preach from the pulpit he once filled. Thurman was the Dean of Marsh Chapel, 1953-1965. \u00a0This summer, read his autobiography, \u00a0With Head and Heart. \u00a0<\/i>In the work of grieving and departing from one setting, Rochester, and entering another, Boston, I was telephoned by a friend and parishioner. \u00a0She wanted to set an appointment to talk, before we left Rochester. A saintly woman, Donna Adcock, made an appointment, a good formal appointment, to see me. \u00a0\u2018A chat after church won\u2019t do for this\u2019, she averred. That Wednesday she brought in a poem which she had typed out from an original handscript. \u00a0Typing is an ancient technology, no longer in use, but some years ago, even, still around. \u00a0(I do not linger to define keystroke, white out, ribbon, carbon paper, or Smith Corona (not a beer, by the way)). \u00a0\u2018This poem Howard Thurman your predecessor at Marsh Chapel recited in a sermon in Kansas City, my home, in 1950\u2019, she said. \u00a0\u2018I was years old, 56 years younger when that sermon changed my life. \u00a0I spent the next 50 years in \u2018full time Christian service\u2019, through the YWCA. \u00a0I heard something that summer day, in Kansas City, in 1950, that changed my life. \u00a0I want you to have this poem. \u00a0You do not need to live in New England to love it, but it does help. The fact that I heard it through Howard Thurman\u2019s beautiful voice adds to it for me\u201d.<\/p>\n

The \u2018little duck\u2019 is a poem about the freedom of a duck floating on the waves, written in 1947 by Donald Babcock. Here are verses from that poem\u2026<\/p>\n

There is a big heaving in the Atlantic<\/p>\n

And he is part of it<\/p>\n

He can rest while the Atlantic heaves, because he rests in the Atlantic<\/p>\n

Probably he doesn\u2019t know how large the ocean is<\/p>\n

And neither do you<\/p>\n

But he realizes it<\/p>\n

And what does he do, I ask you? He sits down in it<\/p>\n

He reposes in the immediate as if it were infinity\u2014which it is.<\/p>\n

That is religion, and the duck has it.<\/p>\n

He has made himself part of the boundless, by easing himself into it just where it touches him.<\/p>\n

I like the little duck.<\/p>\n

He doesn\u2019t know much.<\/p>\n

But he has religion.<\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

Three years ago we hosted the memorial service for Dr. Ken Edelin. \u00a0Marsh Chapel was full. \u00a0At one point we asked the congregation to recite together the 23 Psalm. \u00a0Family and friends in the first pew did so. \u00a0Colleagues and physicians across the nave did so. \u00a0Leaders of national organizations near and far did so. \u00a0In the balcony, twenty white coated medical students together did so. \u00a0Either at that point or another in the service they stood silently together, to honor the life and faith of the deceased. \u00a0That day I met a friend a personal physician of Arthur Ashe, whose life, prowess, faithfulness and service have always so inspired me. \u00a0Read again this summer his autobiography, Days of Grace. \u00a0<\/i>\u201cYea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the collation following the service, Charlayne Hunter Gault introduced herself. \u00a0You will remember her, as we did, from her many and fine contributions to the News Hour, with Jim Lehrer. \u00a0She said, \u2018I need to talk to you later about the 23 Psalm\u2019. \u00a0I was so pleased to meet her, and then so worried that I had somehow offended her, that the collation time passed anxiously. \u00a0It needn\u2019t have done. \u00a0She wanted to recall a memory. \u00a0A memory of her younger self. \u00a0At 18. \u00a0The first African American to integrate the University of Georgia. \u00a0The daughter of a Baptist minister. \u00a0Alone in a big place, a strange place, a new place. \u00a0Walking home the third night, there were taunts and threats. \u00a0The University that day had suggested she might want to go home, at least for a while. \u00a0\u00a0She went into her room. \u00a0She closed the door. \u00a0She turned out the lights. \u00a0And she waited, until quiet came. \u00a0And then\u2014it was the only thing that came to her mind\u2014the prayer of David in Psalm 23 came to her. \u00a0And she spoke the psalm, alone, afraid, uncertain, at night. \u00a0\u00a0\u2018Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.\u2019<\/p>\n

Sometimes words are all we have. \u00a0A regular radio listener from Rhode Island telephoned a few weeks ago. \u00a0He said, \u2018sometimes words are all we have\u2019.<\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

In late June from this pulpit we invited those moved to consider the possibility, to spend a Sunday worshipping in an African Methodist Episcopal Church this summer. \u00a0\u2018Take with you the greetings of Marsh Chapel\u2019, we suggested. \u00a0This sort of visit is not for everyone, and can take many forms. \u00a0It has been interesting, and encouraging, to see that this summer some of you have done so. \u00a0One friend, regular in attendance here, did so a few weeks ago. \u00a0He has a story to tell, and has made a personal connection or three. \u00a0One radio listener, virtually present by radio or podcast week by week, went further. \u00a0She is arranging a neighborhood gathering, she hopes, and hopes we can help her. \u00a0Real change is real hard but happens in real time when real people really work at it. \u00a0There is a latent goodness, a common faith a common ground and a common hope, all about us, like the ocean holding the duck, like the still waters that restore the soul. \u00a0My friends, you are bringing a personal to bear upon the emergence of a beloved community. \u00a0\u00a0Look at what Robert Gates has done, in the right time in the right way, in leading the Boy Scouts of American in a new direction.<\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

Coming to communion you come with your lost loved ones in mind and heart. \u00a0This last winter we bade farewell to a father in law, Charlie. When we receive the Lord\u2019s Supper we do so with the communion of saints all around us. \u00a0Charlie was a lover.<\/p>\n

He loved nature. \u00a0Garden. \u00a0Seed time. Harvest. Planting. Weeding. \u00a0Watering. \u00a0Like the parables of Jesus. \u00a0He had a green thumb. \u00a0Most plant benefitted by the touch of his hand.<\/p>\n

He loved work. \u00a0With his hands. \u00a0Carpentry. \u00a0Also some good company in carpentry, if I remember the Bible that they had us memorize at church camp. \u00a014 features of our cottage have known the touch of his hand.<\/p>\n

He loved the poor and the other. \u00a0In his study group. In work with Abraham House, Retired Teachers, and Habitat for Humanity and various churches and causes. \u00a0He loved others, and I mean others. \u00a0Of other religions, other places, other races, other backgrounds, other orientations. \u00a0He loved. \u00a0Others, and they felt the touch of his hand.<\/p>\n

He loved his country. \u00a0He was not a member of any organized political party. \u00a0His patriotism, his love of country was not only liberty and justice, but liberty and justice FOR ALL. \u00a0And with his own hands he lived that.<\/p>\n

He loved his church. \u00a0Its committees, its pastors, its building needs, its study groups, its quirks and oddities. \u00a0Especially he loved the reading he did with others.<\/p>\n

He loved his family, and expressed that love in rocking horses and tools given and evergreens planted and windows replaced and sincere, repeated words of love.<\/p>\n

He touched us in the most touching of ways.<\/p>\n

He loved God by loving the things of God, the creation of God, the tasks of God, the people of God, the church of God.<\/p>\n

He was our \u2018dad\u2019 and we learned from him. \u00a0We all need models of personal faith, people who can show us by example the dimensions of spirituality we so desire.<\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which we have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

Some years ago, Jan and I went out onto the bay in Mallorca one Sunday. Once a year we try to go somewhere, alone, together. \u00a0In that bay a boat called the \u2018Marco Polo\u2019 will take you ten kilometers or so south, or north, dock for a half hour swim, then bring you back to port. \u00a0We embarked covered with sunscreen.<\/p>\n

In the stern a dozen Germans were gathered, stoic, and after a while they began to sing, in German. \u00a0Sort of like our Marsh choir sings some Sundays. \u00a0Madrilenos, Catalans, Natives of Andalucia, other Spaniards, sat up front with the youth, maybe a dozen young people. \u00a0Thence much laughter. \u00a0Sort of like our Marsh Community lunch. \u00a0We sat under cover, mid-ship, with the British enfrocked in bonnets, sweaters, long stockings, sunglasses. \u00a0We sat against an open window, beautifully open to the sea in the middle of the earth.<\/p>\n

Like a large sea gull, we bobbed along, in the summer beauty, summer sun, summer heat, summer grace and freedom and love. \u00a0An earnest relationship with work you may find in America, among Americans. \u00a0Vacation belongs to the Europeans. \u00a0A hearty relationship with vacation they have. \u00a0Anne Murrow Lindbergh, a European at heart, to paraphrase, said, \u2018A vacation is a month, at least. \u00a0Take a month, at least, or don\u2019t bother\u2019.<\/p>\n

Above us in the \u2018Marco Polo\u2019 was a roof covered with life jackets, an old anchor, some rope, other flotsam and jetsam. \u00a0We sat with the dour British\u2014Spanish laughter a fore, German song aft, and watching the tide role away. \u00a0There is just something about the ocean.<\/p>\n

A gull floated along with us. \u00a0Wind, sand, stars\u2014ocean. \u00a0St. Exuprey. \u00a0Of a sudden, to the right appeared several feet! \u00a0Small feet, young feet. \u00a0Left foot, right foot, hay foot, straw foot. \u00a0The young had commandeered the roof, dangling their feet, kicking, drumming, jostling, lounging and lifting their feet out toward the sea in the middle of the earth. \u00a0Then, gone. \u00a0The lifeguard must have appeared. \u00a0It made me think of Paul, in Corinthians, \u2018shall the head say to the feet, I have no need of thee?\u2019 \u00a0And of Isaiah, \u2018How beautiful are the feet of those who bring glad tidings\u2019. \u00a0And of Jesus, washing in humble service the feet of 12 men, disciples, whom he called \u2018friends\u2019.<\/p>\n

Of a sudden! To the left, across the cabin, outside the other window, feet, numerous feet, numinous feet, kicking and leaning and pushing. \u00a0Young people can take the world and make it young again. \u00a0Dangling feet, dangling prepositions, dangling thoughts\u2014you will make the world playful, youthful, happy, hopeful. \u00a0Just don\u2019t fall overboard, but that is another sermon.<\/p>\n

To lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called\u2026<\/p>\n

One of our fellow seekers of the beloved community offered this prayer, with which we conclude.<\/p>\n

Adonai, we pray that all may come to the understanding that one person\u2019s grief is a shared experience that we will all face, one person\u2019s love is a love that all will someday experience, one person\u2019s exclusion or shunning is one that we all hope never to experience. One person\u2019s success does not in any way diminish us. Friendship with someone new does not change the friendships that are already part of us. A person being praised and appreciated does not mean that we are not, it is just not your turn, or that there are reasons why they needed those words more at that moment. Consequences of actions born of love have a way of transforming who we are. Until each human being realizes that inflicting harm to another either intentionally or unintentionally or participates in such group dynamics that do, we will not have peace on this earth. Yet when a whispered prayer reaches out to you Adonai, and you reach back to us. We have reached the center where we know that we are loved, and nothing on heaven or earth can change that. In the name of Jesus Christ we pray. (TERRY BAURLEY)<\/i><\/p>\n

-The Rev. Dr. Robert Allan Hill, Dean of Marsh Chapel<\/a><\/p>\n

For more information about Marsh Chapel at Boston University,\u00a0click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n

For information about donating to the Chapel,\u00a0click here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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