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All Saints Sunday, November 1, 2009
Pastor Sara Kay Olson-Smith
A Service of Thanksgiving and Completion of Ministry of the Congregation of St. Peter's Lutheran Church, North Plainfield, NJ
Texts: Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 24; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44
Grace to you and peace, from God our Creator and from Christ Jesus, the light of the world, who makes all things new.
At the end of the summer, members from St. Peter’s gathered together to work on our legacy directive, which would state the ways that we wanted the assets from the congregation, and the sale of the building, to be used to continue God’s work in the world. At the beginning of our shaping of this legacy, we spent some time telling the story of St. Peter’s and its ministry. Those gathered told the stories of St. Peter’s sparkling moments, the times we shined brightly the light of Christ into the world, stories which Evelyn Troy shared earlier today about mission and ministry and faithful service. Story after story was told of the ways that St. Peter’s shined brightly the light of Christ into the world. Story after story was told of the saints of this congregation. Story after story was told of the ways that this community - even as it was small and struggling with dwindling membership and finances - radiated Christ’s light into the world.
As we finished telling the stories of St. Peter’s history of doing God’s work and we sat in awe and wonder of what God did through this community, one of the members who sat there said, “Look at all we've done. It’s sad that we’re closing, but I guess we just sort of petered out.”
“I guess we just sort of petered out,” she said. It had been awhile since I heard that phrase, and it struck me. I was struck by it because it seemed to name a bit of our story, but not quite. I understand that phrase to be a sort of fading away, like a flame on an oil lamp which just starts to flicker and diminish as the oil runs out. And yet, this didn’t seem to fit the story of St. Peter’s and its closing. One of the etymological explanations of the phrase connects it back to St. Peter himself, who, as a disciple, just sort of “petered out” in his courageous following of Jesus; you know, the denials and all that. And this didn’t fit either, for the closing of this congregation was far from a denial of Jesus but, I believe, a faithful way of following him.
But I thought more about Peter - this saint for whom this congregation is named. His denial wasn’t the end of the story. After meeting the resurrected Christ, with the Spirit’s power, Peter goes on to preach and bring thousands to Christ. The light of Christ which Peter shined did not “peter out,” did not fade or fizzle away, but rather grew brighter and more bold. In forgiveness and hope he claimed the new future that Christ’s resurrection gave to him and all the world.
It’s sort of like Lazarus. He faced the ultimate “petering out” - he died, and was buried, and put in a tomb, Mary and Martha and his friends believed that it was the end, that Jesus had abandoned them, and that death wins. That was it. Nothing left. Darkness wins. But Jesus comes and enters this place of sadness, sorrow, despair and hopelessness, and he weeps. He weeps for love of these people who thought that, through this dying, the love of God had faded away. He weeps for those who feared that the power of God’s life had just sort of “petered out.” But this wasn’t the end of the story. Jesus weeps for love, and with these tears speaks words of power, with light that bursts into this place, and says, “Come out, Lazarus! For it is finished! Behold, I am making all things new!”
Jesus, in great love for this world and for each one of us, reached out his arms on the cross and died. Some could have said that he just sort of “petered out” on that cross, exhausted and weary and unable to save the world as they hoped he would. But this wasn’t the end of the story. Jesus carried with him the sorrow and hopeless and despair and weariness of the world and brought it through death to life. On that Easter day the end of the story was written. Death does not win, but life conquers forever! Death is swallowed up forever! Ends are no longer endings but beginnings! Tears are wiped away and weeping stops in the morning! All the saints sing with joy! Light breaks into our darkness! Tombs are broken open and we are freed from all that binds us! To us, and to all the world, the risen Christ proclaims, “Behold, I am making all things new!”
This, perhaps, is why this phrase “petering out,” at least in it’s original meaning doesn’t work for me. Through Christ, not even Peter “petered out,” not even Peter faded away, but rather his light burned even more brightly. Not even Lazarus could have his life dimmed, but was called from the tomb to burn ever more brightly. And through Christ, this congregation is not “petering out.” This congregation, even though it is closing, is not facing its ending. Today may be our last worship service in this place; we will not gathering in this building anymore and things are changing, but this is NOT the end of the story of St. Peter’s Lutheran Church in North Plainfield. The light of Christ which burned so brightly here in this place, and through the saints of this place, is not diminishing, is not burning out, is not even flickering!
Instead, through the power of the resurrection, the light of Christ which has shined through this place will keep on burning. This building will soon be housing a new community of faith, proclaiming Jesus is ways that will likely be different than the ways that we did, but still proclaiming Christ to this community. The assets of this congregation will be invested in ministries and support the work of Christ throughout the world and the church. These gifts will burst Christ’s love into the world with the brightness and strength of a forest fire!
And beloved people of St. Peter’s, for you, who feel the sorrow of this day, the pain and grief of losing this community and this beloved building, the light of Christ will burn in you. The light of Christ will surround you and hold you as you weep and mourn, and will not leave you. Jesus weeps with you, and will, in time, bring you to a new beginning, will call you from this tomb of sorrow and bring you to life. And you will, with radiance and hope, shine brightly Christ’s light into the world, in new communities, and in new ways you could never before have imagined!
You, beloved members, friends and neighbors of St. Peter’s have redefined this phrase “petering out.” You have not faded away and flickered into oblivion. In fact, you have done the opposite. You have not let the circumstances and difficult realities of these times dim your light. You have claimed this new future with faithful courage, daring to believe that God will care for you and this community, trusting that God will continue into the future the good work that this congregation has begun. You are letting your light so shine, even as the winds of change blow, and as the tears flow.
On Christmas Eve, St. Peter’s has this wonderful tradition. Like many congregations, at the end of the service we sing Silent Night by candlelight. We light the candles from the bright flame of this Christ Candle - which symbolizes the light of Christ which cannot be extinguished - not by tears, not by endings, not by death. From this one light each person soon holds the light of Christ. This, of course, is not unique. But what is unique about Christmas Eve at St. Peter’s is that, at the end of Silent Night, the congregation doesn’t blow out their candles, but rather carry those lit candles down the aisle and out of the sanctuary. Those candles, each one, go out to shine brightly into the dark of the cold winter’s night. Each person carries the light of Christ into the world.
Today, beloved saints of God, you are carrying the light of Christ into the world. You are carrying the light that has shone here, out from this place and into the world, bearing it into it’s new future. You are being called from this place into new beginnings. This is scary and terribly sad, but we go nourished by this life-giving meal of bread and wine which will sustain us. We go, surrounded by all the saints, held by the prayers and the support of God’s people. We go, carrying with us the light of Christ, which will not fade away, which cannot be extinguished, not by tears, not by endings, not by death. As we step into the unknown of the future, we trust that this is not the end of the story - neither for us nor for the God’s people. The light of Christ will brighten our path and will boldly shine to lead all of us into a future of newness and life!
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
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