Easter 4

Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. … And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

Ephesus Again

           I get caught up in the momentum of the Acts of the Apostles — the breathless, action-packed adventure story of Jesus’ followers in the earliest days after the resurrection. Can you imagine what it must have felt like to live in that moment? To witness the violent public execution of your beloved leader and teacher by the governing power only to find three days later, from the depths of your grief and despair, that he was actually alive among you? They had to have been in a state of sustained shock. Trauma like that doesn’t leave us quickly. 

           They were figuring out what this meant for their daily lives. We know this because Acts is not a record of early Christians’ discussions of fine liturgical choices established as eternal and inviolable laws, like whether to use Rite I or Rite II for Sunday services, or whether purple or Sarum blue vestments are the right choice for Advent. Later religious scholars and teachers developed those traditions as ways of remembering what was most important about living out the good news. These first Jewish followers of their learned rabbi Jesus considered themselves a movement within their Jewish faith that noticed new things about holy living. The Jesus Movement is referred to in Acts as The Way for the first half or so of the book as the movement continues to grow. Remember last week’s reading from Acts concludes about 3,000 people joined The Way after Peter’s testimony that Jesus was the Messiah, and our reading this morning concludes day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. 

           Retired Presiding Bishop Michael Curry — the one who made Episcopalians famous with his Royal wedding sermon in 2018— ALWAYS refers to The Episcopal Church as The Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement. Our charismatic, amazing Presiding Bishop was not telling us to leave behind 2000 years of our beloved church’s tradition. He was urging us to keep the main thing the main thing, and to be sure that our infrastructure — our traditions, trappings, customs, language, and rules — didn’t make it hard for people to connect with the church. People can fail to connect or stay connected to the church because the church is inaccessible, because they just don’t understand the dialect their particular church or denomination is speaking, or because sometimes church rules and traditions arise from the necessities or understandings of a different time, and are no longer consistent with the scriptural foundation of Jesus’ teachings or Jesus’ ways of interacting with people. 

           Stephanie Spellers, an Episcopal priest and former member of Bishop Curry’s national church staff, recently released her book Church Tomorrow?, a reflection on the NONES and the DONES. That’s not nuns like the Sisters of Mercy. NONES are those who would check “none” on a form for religious affiliation. Increasingly, especially among younger generations, folks have been stepping away — not necessarily from God, but from institutions that have felt distant, rigid, or untrustworthy. The DONES are those who have been part of the church — sometimes for years, even decades — but who have reached a point where they feel finished, worn out, or disconnected, and are no longer finding life there. 

           Does any of this resonate with you? Do you know anyone who used to go to church but doesn’t any more — maybe because of rules about divorce, fears of whether they’ll feel welcome, or whether what happens at church feels compelling and life-giving, filling a need for community? Are there people you know, in your family, or among your friends or acquaintances, who seem disconnected or lonely, hungry for community but can’t seem to find a way to connect? Reading Spellers’ book, I think of the NONES and DONES I’ve met — people who can no longer hear their shepherd’s voice, as John’s gospel put it this morning, and church just doesn’t resonate with them any more. 

           Here’s what I think: our opportunity in these days is to go back to Ephesus — back to those times when everything was new, before traditions had formed, before the words of the Book of Common Prayer and the 23rd Psalm we read this morning were as familiar and seemingly eternal as our own names spoken in our shepherd’s voice. So if we can’t hear our shepherd’s voice, what ARE we listening to? What does grab our attention? And what are we as a community DOING about it? Are we a community that helps people hear our shepherd’s voice, or one that adds to the noise and confusion? If the church becomes just another voice competing for attention — another set of expectations, another structure to maintain — then we can’t be surprised when people drift away. But if the church is what it was in Acts, a place where people are known, where bread is broken, and lives are shared, where generosity and gladness are tangible — then something else happens. Then the church is not an obligation, but a place where the shepherd’s voice can be heard more clearly. 

           That’s where I find myself thinking about our Salvations, and about others who have joined our community in these past years — of pandemic, politics, illness, and war, as so much has changed and we’re carrying so much trauma and uncertainty. Like the followers of The Way in the first years after the resurrection, we’re scurrying around with our hands in the air, processing fear, traumatic change, and enormous political uncertainty in real time while simultaneously figuring out how to live our lives together in community, and what really matters in this context. 

           What really matters is exactly what we read about in Acts: staying in community, sharing meals, and continually promising God, ourselves, and each other that we’ll try every day to do the next right thing, say sorry when we’re wrong and try harder next time, and treat ourselves and each other with love, respect, and dignity. That’s the recipe. Awe will come down upon everyone, as we read today in Acts, because many wonders and signs will be done under these conditions, And day by day the Lord will add to our number those who are being saved… .

           The people of God come into this community — NONES or DONES or whoever they are — not because they have spent decades building its structures and traditions, but because they are seeking purpose, connection, a sense of belonging, and a way to listen for God in their lives. What matters most is not programs, rituals, or policies, but authentic relationship. Faith is always relational before it is institutional.  And we’d better watch out, because those of us who are here now are the ones who’ll be saved! When we connect with each other, whether we’re giving life advice or helping a friend with their computer, it’s always true that it’s the helper whose heart is transformed. Through our relationships, we’re drawn back into the heart of the gospel. 

           We’ve seen it happen here at Emmanuel. Our life-giving collaboration with Newport Classical daily builds a future neither organization could have imagined alone. The Community Bridge welcomes everyone to make their home at Emmanuel. Our Salvations teach us what we’d never know without them and expand our hearts beyond what we thought was possible. The Angel Space gives our community a place to gather and form. Yoga gives us new ways to encounter God together. The pollinator garden — both a symbol and a worker bee — helps our whole community blossom and bear fruit, in the Community Garden and beyond. Deep relationship and authentic community bring Jesus among us, so we can hear our shepherd’s voice. Amen