First Presbyterian Church of Watertown
Joshua 4 and 1Timothy 3
“Setting up the Stones”
The Rev. Dr. Fred G. Garry
October 29, 2006
It was really a question of timing. My father and I had just gone through the home of John Knox, the sixteenth century Scottish reformer. Knox is the father of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland and his home in Edinburgh is a kind of living museum in that the house is kept as if Knox still lives there. Like most historic places in Scotland I spent more time trying to avoid a concussion from the low ceilings than I did taking in the sights.
Just next to Knox’s home is the cathedral of St. Giles. Entering the cathedral from Knox’s home is part of the experience. They share a sensibility: they are both frightfully austere. The cathedral has long been devoid of embellishment. The stain glass was destroyed long ago by those who didn’t want images in the church; the floor is a drab gray without monument or marker. The soaring walls have no tapestries. The only moment of beauty was the pipe organ and an eagle lectern which is common in Europe. There was only one statue, an angel standing before a huge oyster shell. The statue seemed as if it had been delivered to the wrong church.
As my father and I tend to do, we went in opposite directions in the church: he was looking for some sort of historical markers, perhaps a battle plaque, or something of significance; I was looking for the life of the church, trying to imagine what it was then and know, how it worshiped and prayed, gathered and processed. I imagine I looked a bit lost for a deacon of the church came over to offer help or to ascertain my mental stability. Within moments the deacon and I were engaged in the most Scottish of traditions, a long conversation.
He started by pointing out the key features of the cathedral, but changed his tact when he found out I was a pastor. “Ah, then you know of the debate I am sure.” His great confidence was matched by my complete lack of what he called the debate- “the debate over the COCU” he intoned. Through his Scottish brogue he was trying to say the acronym for an ecumenical movement called, the Church of Christ Uniting. Yet it sounded a bit like a desire to have Chocolate Coco Puffs. “Yes,” I said, “I have heard of COCU and indeed I had also heard of the debate.”
The debate was over bishops. The Church of Christ Uniting was nearing thirty years of labor intensive gathering and negotiations to create a kind of all inclusive Protestant Church. It was a belief that Episcopalians and Presbyterians and Methodists and Baptists and Lutherans were really different shades of one color and we should live as such. After decades of wrangling there was an accord that was drafted, a statement that was published, and now all there was needed were votes and representatives. The only problem was the Presbyterians, especially the Scots.
For the final steps of this all inclusive church to be taken we had to elect a bishop, someone to take our seat at the table. And it was this final step which created the debate. In no short amount of time the deacon made clear on which side of the line he stood. “We are Presbyterians that means the elders rule; we have no bishop but the Christ.” As the conversation turned to rant I could tell the phrase "no bishop but the Christ" was not of the deacon’s making, it had to be a slogan, for he started to finish each sentence by using it as a kind of refrain, "no bishop but the Christ!"
While I agreed with the deacon my fervor did not match his. He was right; being Presbyterian is a belief in the people, not the priest, not the pastor, not the pope. The people. Churches vote, churches decide, churches act, churches pray. They need no intercessor, no intermediary, and if that makes them awkward and unwieldy at times, so be it. Presbyterians and the Reformed Tradition were about giving power to people: giving them Bibles, giving them voice in worship, speaking in the vernacular language.
This may not be something people see anymore. But in the sixteenth century preaching in French or German or English was against the law. So was the translation of the Bible in any language other than Latin. The Genevan Reformer John Calvin would spend his adult life as an outlaw for the odious crime of writing an introduction to a New Testament in French. The Presbyterians of the time were called such because they believed in giving rule of the church to the elders, to the people, which is what the word means in Greek, presbutero means, ruled by elders. After so long a time it may just seem the way it is. But it was not so then and it is still unique to our tradition.
For nearly five hundred years we have had pastors and elders and deacons, but never, and this is a big one, never have we had a bishop, a church leader who was seen over the congregations. That would take away the role of the elders. So when the deacon at St. Giles was worked up, he had reason. For Presbyterians to elect a bishop is, well, to stop being Presbyterian.
Ultimately COCU fell apart. I have all confidence people like the deacon at St. Giles saw themselves as the David to a Goliath. And perhaps rightly so. It was a grand scheme and great dream. It was big. And for me that was the problem, it was so big, and such a grand scheme that it failed to perceive the real power of Protestantism: the person in the pew. Ours is not a tradition of power brokers, but empowering people. Decisions made by a few for the rest is the tradition of the Roman Catholic Church, the tradition we protested and were thus rightly named, Protestants- protesters.
In the 1530s we gave the Bible to people, gave the vote to people, gave ordination to the laity, brought hymn singing to the congregation. And it worked and has worked for almost five hundred years. This has become our tradition. And the more I am a Presbyterian pastor the more I realize that it has worked and is a blessing not because it was a scheme or a dream or vision. It has worked because this is true. A church is the people, not the pastor or the priest- people. The body of Christ is not something I say; it is what you become following Christ.
When Joshua led the Israelites across the Jordan he was instructed to set up twelve stones as a remembrance of the journey. The stones were specifically set up for children to ask why they are there and for parents to tell the story of their tradition, the Exodus of the people. Reading this passage we could ask things like, "Do we know our own story, do we know enough of the Bible to tell our children the story?" And these are good questions to ask. Yet this passage is not about how much of the Old Testament we know.
For we have our own stones in our midst. We have elders and deacons, we have pastors and no bishops, we have bibles in the pews, we have hymns sung by all, we have a sense of mission that is not about someone else, but what we are going to do. In all these things it comes down to you, the people. You are the living monument as it were.
Someone pressed me the other day about this. They wanted to know what my grand scheme was for missions. It seemed like with all the missions we are doing, with all the trips and programs, with all the houses and schools, overtures and bed nets, they must be some great vision. When I said there was not the person walked away with disbelief. The look on the face was one of disappointment as if I was not willing to share the secret.
Yet, if the truth be told, I truly lack a vision. I lack a vision because I believe I do not need one. I have a tradition. If we as a church are to be involved in missions it must be about the people, what we do, where we go, what we sacrifice, what we believe. This is the reason so many people go to Mexico, why I was so excited when Betsy Klug called again to say, hey, people want to go to Mississippi again. It could be Montenegro and I would be just as inspired because it would be about the people.
In the same way I am very excited about this stewardship campaign. For in almost every way it is about the people. From the sermons to the pledge to invite friends to church, it is all about giving the church to people. It is also a time wherein you will be asked, what are these stones? What does it mean to be Presbyterian? Who decides and how is it you have such nice coffee makers?
To be a member of a Presbyterian church is to join a vibrant tradition of empowering people to be the body of Christ. We don’t have a grand scheme or a great vision: we have a vibrant tradition. And this tradition is not a compulsive grasping at antiquated ideas; it is about letting the church be people following Christ.
In the last thirty years it has become fashionable when a new church is started to leave off the title Presbyterian. Not only is it hard to spell, but it conjures images of the frozen chosen in big empty churches eking out an existence in the abandoned downtowns of major cities. Names like Family Life Center or Community Church or something catchy like, “North Point” is selected. It may be a better marketing strategy, but it fails to understand the power of Christ still alive and vibrant after 500 years in this place calling them Presbyterians.
Here in our midst is a living tradition: we the people are the church following Christ. It seems so simple, yet this is what separates us from the other traditions of Christianity. And for this reason it is so tantamount that we strive to be the body of Christ in worship, in fellowship, in prayer, in mission. It can’t be about someone else deciding, or letting others do the work; we are the church.
When we left Edinburgh, we took a train to London. As we rambled through the lowlands of Scotland and the northern parts of England, I read John Knox’s History of the Scottish Reformation. The book could have been entitled “The Presbyterian Martyrs” for the pages were filled with men and women giving up their life for what they believed: that “Christ came in the flesh, was vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up to glory”; they believed this after having read it in Scripture, heard it in preaching, and tasted it in the sacraments.
As I read the stories of their sacrifice, how Mary Queen of the Scots, saw fit to put so many to death, the deacons fervor was cast in a new light. Riding through the country side, the people of the Scottish reformation who gave their life and gave birth in so many to our tradition became a great weight of conviction. Coming out the pages of Knox’s history the words, “no bishop but the Christ” took on a whole new potency.
You may not have grown up Presbyterian, may even find the Scottish tradition a bit mismatched for your taste, but today you are in the midst of a Presbyterian church being called to be a force for Christianity in this community. And so we are as we are empowering people to make a difference, to be the body of Christ. Amen.