The Interdependent Body of Christ

The Rev. Sara Warfield

Sermon/Rector's Address for the Annual Meeting

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be?

In our country, this past week has served as a distinct rejection of these scriptures, a rejection of the theology of the Body of Christ. In fact, many, if not most of the wild Executive Orders signed by our new President have sought to define the Body as not needing many of its parts. Not needing those whose parents were born in a different country. Not needing those whose gender doesn’t line up with how those in power think it should. And, of course, not needing those who seek to educate others about why those different parts are essential to the whole body and why it's important to make intentional space for those differences in our institutions.

In our country in the past week, we have been told that the ideal body does indeed consist mostly of just a few select parts.

But before we get on our high horses about all this, let’s be real with ourselves: who amongst us hasn’t fantasized about amputating a certain portion of the American body? Or, if not amputating, convincing them to be more like your part of the body?

Now I don’t mean to equate our desire for people to be more similar to us with this President’s mandating through force of government “right” or “wrong” ways of being. I’m only saying that the impulse to retreat into sameness, into conformity, to fear and even condemn difference is lurking in all of us.

I can’t claim that we’re more divided as a country than we’ve ever been. I don’t think that’s true. After all, we have fought a very bloody civil war. Lunch counters, buses, bathrooms, and so many other spaces were literally divided in the South for decades. Polarity and division is nothing new to the United States of America.

But I do think we’re more self-isolated than we’ve ever been. We’ve never been so enabled to willingly turn off our awareness of other parts of the body.

Because technology has allowed us to curate our lives as specifically as we want to.

We can choose not only which news we read or watch but even which topics we have delivered to us—or not. We can avoid the varied masses in our own communities at the grocery store by using PostMates. We can watch whatever shows or films we want to watch on demand—and avoid what we don’t want to see. We choose who to follow—or not—on social media. We can make it so that we only see the people and ideas and issues we want to see.

None of this is inherently bad or harmful. Sometimes we need our safe bubbles. We need places—either in person or online—where we know we can be ourselves, can be understood, can be loved. This is particularly true for those of us whose ways of being are different than what is considered “normal.”

But when we stop venturing outside of these bubbles, we can become isolated. We can become disdainful or fearful of those who are unfamiliar. We can start thinking that the only part of the Body that’s valid or “right” is our part of the body.

I think we’re really seeing the fruits of that isolation now.

But why does this matter? Because, as we heard last week in the first part of this chapter in 1 Corinthians, “to each is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” It doesn’t say, “to some is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” Nor does it say, “To each is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the good of a chosen few.” What it says is that the Spirit has given every single person unique gifts and ways of being that are essential to the thriving of everyone else. To my thriving. To your thriving.

Our practice as Christians is to ask, “how is this person essential to our mutual thriving?” But not just that. Also, “how am I essential to our mutual thriving?”

And here’s the very best news: All of that is what we practice at church.

Did you know that it is the theological practice of The Episcopal Church that communion can’t happen with just the priest? At least two people must be present to consecrate and share the elements. Because one of the ritual meanings of this sacrament is to make real and tangible in that moment the Body of Christ. And Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. You can’t have worship with just the priest. If the whole body was the priest, where would the music be? How would our chalices and candlestick holders get so shiny if James wasn’t around? Where would Zoom worship be if Riley didn’t take up that task? Who would greet you as you came in? Who would read the scriptures? Who would hear the scriptures and songs and prayers offered?

But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, Kathy our Music Minister who, in addition to her tremendous musical gifts, has the gift of inviting people in: She kept the Pop-Up Choir rolling this past year, and they sang during Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and Advent. Raise your hand if you sang in the Pop-Up Choir at least once. Nathan, Shelley, Lainey, and Paul all helped to cantor our Prayers of the People. Jack, Barry, and Br. Dave were steadfast in the sharing of their musical gifts every Sunday.

Our Pride Sunday would not have been nearly as jubilant without the gifts of Faith, who if you follow her Instagram you know LOVES a special event, and Jennifer to cover our sanctuary in rainbows. The work of our Altar Guild isn’t always as flamboyant as Pride Sunday, but that team sets the tone for all we do on Sunday mornings.

And this year our Vestry made the decision not to bring in supply priests whenever I was away, which meant that the congregation would lead worship on those Sundays. Debbie Kohler and Lainey and Kathy and Judy, and I’m sure I’m missing some names, stepped up to prove that you don’t even need a priest to have beautiful worship.

Or beautiful sermons. Deacon Laurel, Br. Dave, Shelley, Judy, Jack, Kirby, Debbie Kohler, Kathy, and Kirby all stepped up to the pulpit last year to give us their beautiful thoughts on the scriptures.

Worship is the beating heart of our congregation, and all of you keep that blood flowing, make the Body of Christ present among us.

If Worship is the heart, our Welcome Ministry might be the lungs. Katie Snider took the reins of that Ministry this year. She created opportunities for new folks to get to know us better through Welcome Time events and opportunities for everyone to get to know each other at the Annual Meeting potluck, the fall barbecue, not to mention coordinating the catered meal generously donated by an anonymous member of St. Luke’s for the occasion of our return to the Resurrected Sanctuary.

And Sandy Stumpf, after literally decades of coordinating Coffee Hour, handed the baton to Lainey and Jennifer, who continue to create time for us to gather together after worship and who have shaped it to be a sustainable ministry.

We formally welcomed nine new members, which means nine sets of gifts all manifesting in their own different ways. Our community also experienced loss. We lost Bob Day after a long mental and physical decline. And so many of us lost loved ones, which challenged us to live into that membership vow to “let yourself be open to receiving the gifts of the community, especially in times of distress or suffering.”

Yes, leaning on the Body of Christ when you’re weary or devastated is just as important as sharing your gifts. Adriane Bolliger lived into this beautifully in the past year when it came to stepping back from the Young(ish) Adult ministry. I invite you to read what she wrote in the Annual Report.

In fact, I can’t get to all the amazing things that this community has made happen in the past year, so please read all their reports!

I can’t mention all the people like Stacey and Cathy and Norine who helped keep our columbarium looking tended and sacred. Or Gale or Chris and Erika Neal or so many of you who helped keep our Building & Grounds maintained and beautiful. I will mention Roberta, but not yet.

But I think what I most want to remember and honor from the past year is how we navigated big changes as a Body.

Most recently, we held each other through a stressful election season in a few different ways. Kathy, Jack, and Jane led us through a Taize service that invited us to slow down, to not get stuck in our fear. The day of the election, I invited people in for a brief prayer service so that we could be together in our anxiety, and Kathy played the piano for an hour in the afternoon. And when the results proved unsettling and frightening for many of us, 15 of us came together the day after the election. We needed to be together in our fear and devastation.

But the biggest change we as a parish community experienced was the resurrection of our sanctuary or, as other people may think about it, when we replaced the pews with the chairs. I am so amazed by how the Vestry and From Transactional to Relational Team made space for every opinion, every suggestion, every feeling in the process. We all moved with intention, first sharing our thoughts about the coming change together, in worship. And you were all so honest and open, whether you loved the idea or hated it—though most of you fell somewhere in between. We chose which chairs to get together. We said goodbye to the pews together. We moved through the liminal space of worship in the Parish Hall together. We brought the new chairs into the building together. And we celebrated our resurrected space together.

But for some of us, that first day worshiping with the chairs was less a celebration than the culmination of grief. Those of you who were sad about the changes were honest with me that very day about your sadness. But still, you stuck with your St. Luke’s family. You supported the change even though it wasn’t your preference. And honestly I was so struck and moved by that. We are a parish family who moves through these massive changes and sticks together as the Body of Christ, even when we might feel vastly different about those changes.

What a revolutionary act, especially now. That’s what we practice here at St. Luke’s, during worship, as we do the work of our ministries, as we make decisions together.

I need you to know that this kind of community is increasingly rare. It’s special. It’s important. Because, as I said earlier, it’s so easy to be isolated now. People don’t often seek out spaces where there’s such a variety of ages, backgrounds, and ways of being as we have here. It takes work and courage to be in the kind of vulnerable relationships we cultivate here. But also this practice of showing up together over and over again teaches our hearts, our minds, our bodies what hope feels like, especially in the face of division or despair.

Because when we think we’re isolated, when we think we’re alone in the face of enormous, intractable problems like climate change or our country crumbling into authoritarianism, it’s easy to slip into despair and nihilism. But when each of us truly understands that we are one essential member with our own unique gifts and ways of being in a whole interdependent Body of other essential members who bring their own different gifts and ways of being, we know we don’t have to fix those problems alone. That it’s actually impossible to fix these problems alone.

Singing together reminds us of this. Praying together reminds us of this. Being honest and compassionate about our differences together reminds us of this.

You don’t have to be the savior. You don’t have to have the magic bullet, you don’t have to do the one big thing, you don’t need to completely exhaust yourself trying to fix these enormous issues alone. Because we already have a savior. His name is Jesus. And together, as Paul reminds us, you are his body. Strive for the greater gifts.

Amen.