Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10 January 24, 2010

All the people gathered together into the square before the Water Gate. They told the scribe Ezra to bring the book of the law of Moses, which the Lord had given to Israel. Accordingly, the priest Ezra brought the law before the assembly, both men and women and all who could hear with understanding. This was on the first day of the seventh month. He read from it facing the square before the Water Gate from early morning until midday, in the presence of the men and the women and those who could understand; and the ears of all the people were attentive to the book of the law.

And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people, for he was standing above all the people; and when he opened it, all the people stood up. Then Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God, and all the people answered, "Amen, Amen," lifting up their hands. Then they bowed their heads and worshiped the Lord with their faces to the ground.

So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading. And Nehemiah, who was the governor, and Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who taught the people said to all the people, "This day is holy to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep." For all the people wept when they heard the words of the law. Then he said to them, "Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength."

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In the year 587, before the common era, Judah, the southern kingdom of the nation of Israel, was laid to waste by King Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian army. The capital city of Jerusalem was utterly destroyed and a large portion of the population taken off to Babylon to serve as slaves. This was the beginning of what the Bible calls the Great Exile, or the Babylonian Captivity. The Hebrew people lived in exile for about three generations, at the end of which the Babylonian empire was in turn destroyed by the Persian Empire. Cyrus, king of Persia, turned out to be more favorably disposed towards the Hebrews, and he allowed those who wanted to, to return home.

The Old Testament books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell the story of their return. They relate some of the struggles they had while trying to put their nation back together. As one commentator puts it, "The future of the people is in serious doubt. Enemies attack from outside, but even more disruptively, internal disagreements threaten to undermine the community's future. The people form factions arguing about who is in and who is out, who should govern, how the temple can be rebuilt, how Jerusalem can be reestablished in safety." (Kathleen O'Connor in Feasting On the Word, year C, Vol 1, page 267) Altogether, it sounds like a pretty chaotic time.

Eventually, they were able to come together around three major accomplishments; they rebuilt the temple, they rebuilt the city walls around Jerusalem and they began to repair their relationship with God. The verses from Nehemiah that Greg read to you this morning might be thought of as a snapshot from the family album of the returned exiles. In this particular story all the people were gathered in the square before the Water Gate for what we would call a re-covenanting ceremony. They listened all morning long as Ezra the priest read from the book of the law; probably what we now call Deuteronomy.

This was a ritual act; a way of reminding them all of their identity as the people of Yahweh. It was a way of saying, this is who we were before the exile, and this is who we shall be again. And all the people cried, "Amen." Literally, they cried. The story says they stood there weeping as they heard the words of the law. It isn't hard to imagine why after all they had been through. They cried for the loss of the great nation they had once been; for the suffering they had endured, and for the promise that, in spite of everything, God had not finally abandoned them.

The Priests and Levites were apparently disturbed by all this grieving on what was supposed to be a day of joy and celebration. Be quiet," they said, "for this day is holy. Don't be grieved." Go get something to eat. That strikes me as funny. The human race has a long history of stuffing down our emotions with food. But perhaps you weren't aware just how long. Some things never change.

Anyway, as I said, this is a snapshot from the family album of the returned exiles. It is a picture of the reestablishment of the institution of Yahweh after nearly everyone had given it up for lost. The people came back from exile, rebuilt their temple, put back in place all its sacred rituals, sacrifices, priests and high holy days. Through great effort and struggle, they breathed new life into the faith of their fathers, and like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Israel once again became the chosen people; at least that's the way the bible tells the story. And we would say it's a good thing they did all this, since this story is part of the long thread of our own religious history. If all those years ago the returning exiles had allowed that thread to break, we probably wouldn't be here, at least not as Christians.

Now, fast forward a bit more than 2500 years. How would you say the institution of Yahweh is faring? It isn't really a fair question. Compared to that small group of returned exiles, the church as we know it is successful beyond anything they could have imagined. When we add together the modern day versions of Judaism and the religion of all its Christian daughters, we total well over a third of the world's population. The faith of Yahweh has reached virtually every nook and cranny of the world and its many peoples.

I imagine those early exiles would be, on the one hand overawed at the mighty oak that has come out of their tiny acorn, but on the other hand, appalled at how their beliefs have been changed, watered down and distorted over time. What we call the faith would have been virtually unrecognizable to them. That's what happens though. We can never count on our children being willing to carry on our own beloved traditions in the ways we might think they should; and there have been something like a hundred generations of children since those dusty days in Jerusalem.

So the question, "How is the institution faring?" isn't really about how it compares to ancient Israel. It's about how it compares to what it has been in our own lifetimes, and by that standard, we have some concerns.

Just before Christmas about ten years ago, an issue of the New York Times Magazine came out with a dark red cover that read, "God Decentralized." It was a hot topic of conversation, for a couple of weeks at least. But I saved it because I thought it was a good expression not only of where we were, but also where it we seemed to be heading. The article leads off with this statement: "A new breed of worshiper is looking beyond the religious institution for a do-it-yourself solution." And then goes on to expand on that idea.

"America has long provided fertile soil for spiritual pioneers, from Joseph Smith, the single-minded founder of Mormonism, to the New Age entrepreneurs who have roamed the metaphysical frontier. Such religious invention is still going strong in America. So is immigration, importing an ever-changing palette of religious practice. Other restless worshipers, meanwhile, are intent on reshaping the religions they grew up with. The result is a time of spiritual ferment, with room for ardent young Catholics who disagree with many Church teachings, for religious pilgrims just as interested in spectacle as divine connection, for modernizing Muslims, for meditating Jews, for take-charge Baptists trying to turn worship into a social crusade. And, paradoxically, it is also a time for faithful doubt. (God Decentralized, N.Y. Times Magazine, 12/7/1997)

Well, we would say faithful doubt has always been appropriate. In our tradition, paradox isn't something that bothers us all that much. But the doubt we're wrestling with right at present isn't the more traditional doubt of St. Thomas, "I believe. Help thou my unbelief." The doubt we're wrestling isn't theological; it is institutional. It has more to do with whether or not the ways we have been doing church for the last four or five hundred years are necessarily the ways we intend to keep doing church.

It should come as a surprise to no one that we're having to propose a budget this year that uses $40,000 of our reserves to plug a hole in our pledging. This is not a problem we alone are having. Virtually every church I know of is having a harder and harder time making ends meet. Even Rick Warren, one of the most successful mega-church pastors, author of "The Purpose Driven Life," had to go back to his congregation this year for more money. Of course, he got it, easily. They asked for one million and got two instead. We should have such problems. I called up to ask him if he might be willing to share, but so far he hasn't returned my call. Come on Rick. Where's your ecumenical spirit? But seriously, the point is, everyone is struggling.

There are a number of reasons for this. One big one is the recession, of course. Finances are tight all over and it's no surprise that giving has suffered. But beyond that, there are larger, cultural changes at work that are shifting the ground beneath all of our social institutions. Rotary, Lions, Boy & Girl Scouts, Red Cross, YMCA, Libraries, Hospitals, Schools, you name it … everyone is having a difficult time finding both money and volunteers, and we're no exception.

That doesn't mean this great congregation is going down the tubes. The fact is we have a very strong church here with a lot going for us. We're not in debt. We're not in conflict. We have a wonderful staff and great lay leadership. We have terrific programs for music, worship, education, fellowship and outreach. We have a well loved and respected place in this community, our buildings are well cared for, and we have considerable financial assets. Not to be swelled up or anything, but I honestly don't know of another church that is doing better than we are by almost any measure.

But, for the last several years, like everyone else, we are increasingly challenged to meet our budget, and increasingly challenged to find people willing to do those things that must be done if our church is to continue functioning in a healthy way. For awhile now, mostly behind the scenes, we've been trying to make minor adjustments here and there to keep doing what we've always done. But, as I told the Trustees a couple of weeks ago, we simply can't keep putting band aids on the weak spots and go on as if nothing is happening.

The time has come for our church, our whole congregation, to take a good long look at who we are and where we are and where we're going and how we're going to get there. This coming year is going to be a time of reflection and visioning. We're going to begin a congregation-wide conversation about our future. We're still working on when and where and how, although today's information meeting and next week's Annual Meeting are certainly important pieces. But this morning, mainly, I want to encourage you all, in the strongest possible terms, to be a part of that conversation: to share your thoughts, your dreams, your frustrations and your questions. The church does not always have to be what it has always been. In fact it can not and will not be. Like it or not, times are changing. The future is not going to look just like the past. But that doesn't mean we can't face that future gracefully, guided, as always, by the loving Spirit of God. And this year, that is our mission.

Amen.