It is lovely to be back among you on World Communion Sunday. I am grateful to have the opportunity to once again stand behind this pulpit and share with you. Truthfully, it was good to not preach for three months – and it is good to have an excuse to order my thoughts again. So thank you for letting me come back.

Some of my pastor friends, when they take sabbatical, don’t go to church – at all. They sleep in or eat a late brunch, go for a hike or read the paper cover to cover. There are plenty of non-pastors that do the same. In fact, in some parts of the larger church, there is a quiet panic about the number of people that no longer go to church. These people used to go (they aren’t part of the so-called “nones” that have no religious identity) but after the pandemic some people  didn’t feel like coming back.

Actually, according to a new book called, The Great De-Churching, it wasn’t just the pandemic. The authors, Jim Davis and Michael Graham, say “More people have left the church in the last twenty-five years than all the new people who became Christians from the First Great Awakening, Second Great Awakening, and Billy Graham crusades combined.” Davis and Graham define the “de-churched” as those who used to go to church at least once a month and now only go once a year. The reasons for staying away vary but according to their research 15% of Americans find less and less reason to attend church, to be part of the church community. They are now “de-churched.”

Paul writes to the church in Philippi –

If our life in Christ means anything to you –

if love

or the Spirit that we have in common

or any tenderness

or sympathy can persuade you at all –

then be united in your convictions

and united in your love,

with a common purpose and a common mind.

I have to admit, that being away from the routine of church with you all each week allowed the question to bubble to the surface for me: “Why do we even go to church ?” Or to phrase it in the language of the Apostle Paul: “Does our life in Christ mean anything to you?” This might be a question some of you ask as well.

Sabbatical gave me the opportunity to visit other churches and live into the question: Why do we go to church? Does our life in Christ mean anything to me? I visited 12 different congregations, twelve churches not for any particular biblical reason, it just happened that way. Seeing other congregations in worship gave me some ideas about why people still go to church, and what their life together in Christ might mean for them.

At Albany Mennonite, where I grew up in Oregon, we saw our friends Judy and Mark Nord. Judy has created a device to hang children’s (or adult) artwork that is created during the worship service. During the offering time, Judy stands ready to help the children display their visual offerings.

At Seattle Mennonite, I was moved as children, teens and adults came forward to light candles during the prayer time. People of all ages also wrote or colored their prayers to be spoken aloud by the worship leader.

At Assembly Mennonite in Goshen, Indiana, it seems like just about everyone grows something in their yard. The offering time included people bringing forward abundant garden produce and flowers. After the service, people came forward again, this time taking food or flowers home.

At Bethany Mennonite in Vermont, a beautiful labyrinth containing their congregational covenant was posted on the wall. People of all ages had signed this to show that they consider themselves part of that particular community of faith.

From these few examples, we might make some generalizations about why Mennonites go to church. Or maybe a more Anabaptist way to ask this question would be “Why do we do church?” This small sampling indicates we go to church to share art, to share food, to entrust our prayers to others, to pray together, to be community. We do church by uniting our prayers and offerings and love in community each week.

What about other strands of the faith? Why do people still go to church? What does their life in Christ mean to them?

At Alfred Street Baptist Church in Alexandria, Eric and I walked through a gauntlet of sheriff’s deputies and other security personnel as we entered the building. This historic African American church, started in 1803, was packed out on a hot July Sunday. Even arriving 15 minutes early we were ushered to the balcony in order to find a seat. Soon the balcony was full as well. Given the very real dangers that black people live with every day in this country (witness the protection of law enforcement at the doors,) one of the reasons people go to church at Alfred St might be for safety and rest. The church is a place for inspiration and community but also a safe place to rest from the prevalence of racism and white supremacy. “Sanctuary” and “salvation” are very concrete at Alfred Street. Life in Christ means being united in love with a common purpose: to survive and thrive.

I visited two Unitarian Universalist churches where the pastors talked about what they believe and why – which is counter to the stereotype of a UU church. Garrison Keillor used to joke about UUs not standing for anything – but I am here to tell you that he is wrong.

At All Soul’s Unitarian, it was question and answer Sunday. For the sermon, Pastor Bill Sinkford answered and responded in real time to the questions submitted. When asked about believing in God, Rev Sinkford said that “to say you don’t believe in God, is to believe in despair.  The opposite of not believing in God, is believing In love. And we are to experience the holy, not just think about it.” (Yes, this church nerd took notes.) Unitarian Universalists may not read the bible or agree about who Jesus was and they do not celebrate communion on this World Communion Sunday. Still, I think they are united in purpose, united in Love. And they go to church.

My experiences the past three months helped me see that there are good reasons for going to church, for doing church. The reasons we go to church or do church, are probably different for different people – surely the reasons vary between congregations, and within congregations. I am pretty sure we do not all show up here for the same reasons. Your own personal reasons for showing up (or not) might even change from week to week.

Our reasoning may vary, but Paul’s description of what healthy community and church look like remains constant. It still works, in this culture, in this millennium. With a common purpose, or as Paul says, a common mind,  we are to treat each other with tenderness, compassion, without competition or selfish ambition but humbly, valuing each other.

This last phrase from Paul pulls me up short. The whole phrase reads:  Everybody is to be humble: value others over yourselves, each of you thinking of the interests of others before your own. That is really good advice for those who have not had the experience of valuing others over themselves. On the other hand, for those who have spent a lifetime valuing others over themselves, well, they might better remember that we can only love and value others as much as we love and value ourselves. Yes, we go to church to value others – and to understand that each of us has value.

It was a hot Sunday in July, when I visited St Paul’s Episcopal Church in Chillicothe, Ohio. It is a small church in a small town, perhaps a spot of light blue in a red area of the state. As a true church nerd, I arrived early to check out the columbarium and hear some organ music. As the service began it was announced that the organist had just returned from Oberlin Conservatory where he had attended a rigorous organ boot camp. This was a high honor for the 16 year old organist. After the announcements, worship proceeded and my sophisticated city self appraised each element of the service: the singing, the prayers, the sermon. At the “passing of the peace,” people were small-town friendly and the woman next to me introduced herself, saying she had grown up there and was now was the local dentist.

After the passing of the peace, the liturgy moves to what I assume brings people to the liturgical church each week. It was time for the eucharist. It was at this point that I got a tickle in my throat. In these days of covid and coughing, one dare not cough in church whether or not one has covid. Suddenly my internal city sophistication was humbled. I leaned over to ask the kind dentist where I could find some water. She whispered that she would get me some water. She slipped out.

The liturgy continued. The prayers, and responses, kept rolling and soon the bread and cup were blessed. At the direction of the ushers, people began processing toward the priest and servers. I kept looking at the doorway where the dentist had disappeared. Where was she? I was no longer coughing; now I was panicking that this lovely woman would miss partaking of the eucharist, because of this haughty guest. Then it was like a movie; just as I was about to approach the priest, she came through the door, handed me a bottle of water and got in line behind me. Talk about valuing others over yourself, thinking of the interests of others before your own. I was indeed humbled by her generosity and kindness.

Years ago, at a different St Paul’s church, when I was young and in seminary, I sang in the choir. Each week I was transported by the music and grew to love the liturgy at this Anglican church. Yet I struggled with the traditional beliefs of this particular congregation. Beauty was prized highly – and women could not be priests.

One Sunday I ventured into a conversation with one of the very devout members of the choir. Thinking I would stand up for myself, I said I believed that the church needs to change with the times, to be relevant in the world. This devout man said relevancy was beside the point. It was not about being relevant, it was about being faithful.

Now I might have a sense of where he was coming from but then I got angry. (I was in seminary. I thought I knew everything.) I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said. I certainly wasn’t tender or compassionate as Paul instructs. I didn’t feel valued nor did I value this man’s perspective. Paul’s advice to each (of you) think(ing) of the interests of others before your own might have been helpful if I were able to hear it through my rage…There was no resolution between the two of us, yet the next week, there we were, both at the communion table again, somehow finding unity in Christ though we couldn’t find unity with each other.

I don’t quite know how to square that experience with the very literal reading of I Corinthians 11 that I grew up with as a Mennonite: Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves.

I suppose this is one of the reasons that I keep coming back to church, to understand in new ways the ancient biblical text. Also, to find new ways, and support, to live out the gospel; to work it out with this community. I come to experience Love – to live out Love – not just think about Love. I wonder what you would say, why do you keep showing up to church? Why do you keep doing church?

from Paul’s letter to the Philippians:

If our life in Christ means anything to you –

if love

or the Spirit that we have in common

or any tenderness

or sympathy can persuade you at all –

then be united in your convictions

and united in your love,

with a common purpose and a common mind.

Let us work out our salvation with fear and trembling. It is God at work in us that creates the desire to do God’s will.