The Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost-The Rev Melanie Lemburg

The Very Rev Melanie Dickson Lemburg

26^th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 28B

November 17, 2024

 

        Years ago, before I went to seminary, I created and organized enrichment programming for senior citizens and adults with mental disabilities at the Stewpot soup kitchen in inner city Jackson, MS.  Many of these folks lived in the personal care homes in the area, on small, fixed incomes, and they would get turned out onto the streets during the day with not much to occupy their time.  Stewpot gave these folks a place to go, and it was my job to give them something to do.  One of these participants was a woman named Cheryl.  Cheryl was crazy as a betsy bug.  Her favorite thing to do art therapy, and I’d often sit beside her and listen to her talk about all the famous people she knew and how they’d interacted with her life recently (often in really unhealthy ways).  One day, Cheryl showed up with a beautiful, gold butterfly necklace.  She was clearly proud of her necklace, and I complemented her on it, telling her how pretty it was and how I also liked butterflies.  She cocked her head at me for a moment, and then she surprised me by pulling the necklace over her head and wordlessly offering it to me.  Well, I was mortified.  Here she is with this cherished piece of beauty in an otherwise drab and impoverished life.  I was there to help her, and she was trying to give me her necklace.  I told her I couldn’t possibly take it, and she became more and more insistent, and in that moment, I realized that she needed to be able to give the necklace to me, and that I needed to be able to accept it.  So, I did. 

        Even after all these years, that story reminds me that there’s a strange dance between hope and gratitude, in giving and receiving.  We see it in our Old Testament reading for today.  Hannah has longed for a child for many, many years.  She goes to the temple to pray, and she asks God to grant her a child.  But then, get this!  In that same prayer, she promises that if God grants her a child, she’s going to turn around and give that child right back to God, raising him as a Nazirite, someone who was dedicated to the service of God, giving him away just as soon as he is weaned.  In the midst of her hope, Hannah offers a promise of gratitude in this pledging of her long-awaited child to the service of God. And  I can’t help wonder which came first for Hannah, gratitude or hope, giving or receiving? For they are so closely intertwined in her story.  For Hannah, the incarnation of her hope becomes her child Samuel, and she willingly and gratefully turns him back over to God.  It’s a huge gift that no one even asked of her. 

        When we hope, we acknowledge that we are, in fact, powerless.  And at the same time, when we hope, we become active agents in the world.  We often think of hope as an emotion, but it’s not; not really.  Hope is a cognitive-behavioral process; hope is an action.  And it is when we connect with our gratitude, that our hope is further fueled, more deeply inspired. 

        Today, our annual giving campaign is drawing to a close.  The theme for this year has been “Rooted in Hope” and the passage we chose to support this is from Jeremiah17:7-8:  Blessed are those who trust in the Lord…  They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. At the beginning of the campaign, we asked you to consider: What are the ways that the roots of your faith are nourished, and what role does the spiritual community of St. Thomas play in that nourishing?   

            I would also encourage you to think today about hope and gratitude.  What are the hopes you can name for your life and for this community?  What is that gratitude that you can also name?  How are those interconnected?

        My hope for St. Thomas in the coming year is that we will be a place that creates space for belonging for everyone; that we will nourish and encourage each other in the spreading of the good news, that though the presence of the Holy Spirit, each of us will be transformed, more and more, into the image and likeness of Christ.  My hope for St. Thomas is that we will take our discipleship of Jesus seriously, committing to it faithfully in new and exciting ways. 

        I am so grateful for all the ways that we are already doing this work together, and I am eager to see what God has in store for us next!  I am grateful for our Wednesday healing service conversations, and for the ways we gather in a circle with kind hands outstretched to pray for each other and the needs of the world.  I am grateful for all the glorious music we make together—singing and bells, organ and piano, and so many other ways.  I am grateful for wise women who laugh and who invite us to see diminishment not with discouragement but with joy; and I am grateful for people with the gifts of making things more hospitable.  And I am grateful for you who show up and get things done.  I am grateful for all the ways that we share our joys and our sorrows, for the ways that we teach and learn from each other.  I am grateful for our children and grandchildren and all the ways that surprise me and give me hope.  I am grateful when we step out and try new things, and I am grateful for tried and tested ways of being community.  There is so much that I receive from each and every one of you, and I am so grateful for you and for St. Thomas.

        The butterfly has long been used as a symbol of the resurrection.  For me, it’s also always been a symbol of hope.  And when I see them, they spark my gratitude.  What are you grateful for here at St. Thomas?  What are you being called to give and what are you being called to receive in this next season in the life of the church as a part of your gratitude and as a part of your hope?