But it's not Luke's Gospel that I want to talk about with you today. Today is a day to talk about St. Ambrose Episcopal Church. As we celebrate paying off a considerable mortgage, we rejoice today in the love that we have for our parish. This summer, we have shown one another that we can come together to accomplish important work. We have shown that we honor and cherish the beautiful buildings that were created for our use so many years ago. We give thanks for the scores of parishioners old and new who have given so much of themselves and their treasure to this community. And most of all, we recognize that today is the start of a new day at St. Ambrose, a new day free from debt!
The challenging question for us today is, "Where do we go from here? What do we do with our freedom?" As we all know, this is a difficult time to be followers of Jesus in Christian community. Today, our beautiful education wing is paid for, but it is sitting pretty much empty. We ourselves are older than we were when the vestry first signed those mortgage documents, and our children have grown and gone. There are fewer beloved faces in the pews. To top it off, our secular neighbors are afraid of us, afraid that people who call themselves Christian are all about power, judgment, and control. How will we still be "St. Ambrose" in this new landscape? How do we follow Jesus now?
These are questions that we're going to have to answer together this year. To start us off, though, let's look closely at our reading from Hebrews.[1] Today's passage is a bit off-putting at first glance, at least it was for me. It sounds like an annoying list of overly-pious rules that I'm supposed to follow. The book of Hebrews is a sermon, though, a sermon for the early church community, not just a bunch of old rules for individuals to take to heart. The wisdom that this ancient preacher has for us still applies to St. Ambrose today.
The first thing that we're called to do is to "continue in mutual love." "Mutual love," here is the word philadelphia, "sibling love, brotherly love." Did you know that early Christians were mocked for sharing a strange new kind of relationship called "fictive kinship?" Following Jesus' example, they dared to go beyond family bonds to call fellow Christians their brothers and sisters, to redefine family as the children of one "Father who art in heaven." St. Ambrose, too, has especially been known over the years for being this kind of "family." May we then continue as a family—a family in Christ—where strong sibling love supports and strengthens us in our relationships with one another, in good times and in hard times.
We're not only to love within our community, though, are we? The second thing we're called to do is to practice hospitality. Hospitality isn't just having delicious potlucks or wearing nametags, however. The Greek word translated as "hospitality" here is another word about love: philoxenia, or "love of the strange." When we love "the strange," we love those who are different from us, those with new stories to tell, with strange new ways of doing things. How easy it is for tight-knit communities like ours to become inwardly-focused! Instead, we are asked to be ready to go beyond ourselves, to listen, to change, to grow as Christians. As Jesus says in our Gospel: When you give a banquet, don't invite all the cool, powerful people. Instead, go out to "invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed." In God’s eyes, there is no group or individual so full of shame, so excluded by society, that they are not welcome at God’s table—or ours.
Similarly, we're reminded next to care for prisoners and for those who are being tortured. Prisoners in the ancient world were dependent on their families and friends for their sustenance. Without a relative to provide food, clothes, and medicine, a prisoner would die. To "remember" a prisoner, then, is not just to pray for him. It is to actively provide life-support for him. We at St. Ambrose, newly free from our debt, are called actively as a community to provide for those around us who are not free, for those who are suffering.
Next, Hebrews warns us to watch out for desire run amok—desire that exploits others sexually and desire that exploits others economically. In the new day that's dawning for us, can we be content and satisfied with what we have? Can we resist comparing the present with the past? Can we share all that we have, no matter how small? Our world is an acquisitive, money-oriented, exploitative place. True Christian community exists in defiant opposition to such a world.
Finally, there's the bit about remembering our leaders. I'd love to say that this part is all about being nice to the rector, but it's not. Priests and vestries come and go. But you—Christ's Church—remain. We're asked as a community to remember that Great Cloud of Witnesses, those Christians who have gone before us. To remember the early Christians who died courageously for their faith. To remember the millions of faithful followers of Jesus whose prayers fill the nooks and crannies of our churches, whose testimony has led to this congregation being here today. To remember the parents and grandparents and Sunday School teachers who told us about Jesus, about God's Love for all. To remember the St. Ambrosians who dreamed what this parish could be, who built this church building, sometimes with their own two hands. Yes, today we are free from debt to the bank, but we are never free from the debt of love owed to those who have gone before us.
What do we do with our freedom, then? In each decision that we make, we love each of our siblings in this parish as we would our own flesh and blood; we resist looking inward and instead embrace the strange; we lavish love on those who are discounted in any way by society; we lavish care on those who suffer, no matter the reason; we honor the efforts and testimony of our founders. How do we do all these difficult things? We can do them through the power of Jesus Christ, the only one who "is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow." No matter what changes in our world, in the Episcopal Church, or in our parish, the love of God in Jesus Christ never fades. And in that love lies our true freedom from all debt.
[1] I rely on the exegesis by Amy Peeler (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-3/commentary-on-hebrews-131-8-15-16-2 ); Christopher T. Holmes (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-3/commentary-on-hebrews-131-8-15-16-5); and Erik Heen (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-3/commentary-on-hebrews-131-8-15-16-3) for today's sermon.
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