"A Wedding Banquet" given Oct.15, 2017

We don't know what it was that Euodia and Syntyche were squabbling about in First Church, Philippi. We have no idea who these two First Century Church Ladies were, much less what was the cause of their disagreement. It might have been a major argument about doctrine and belief. Or it may have been a petty squabble around who broke whose casserole dish at the pot-luck.

Whatever it was, it must have evolved into a heckuva fight. Whatever was going on, the anger and the hurt had come to the point where it was threatening the harmony, possibly even the very existence of that fledgling congregation. Their feud eventually grew do divisive that The Apostle Paul, rotting away in a Roman prison, heard of it. Paul was troubled enough by word of discord in this congregation that he took time to include a personal plea for harmony into his pastoral letter to the Philippian Church, and to urge their pastor to take a more active role in reconciling these two sisters in the faith.

"Stand firm, my dear brothers and sisters. I love you and long to see you all. You are my joy and my crown. Stand firm in the faith, dear friends.

And now Euodia and Syntyche, you must forgive me for mentioning this, but I urge you to come to agreement in Christ. And I urge you, my dear colleague, to help these two sisters in Christ to make peace with one another. They have labored faithfully in the Gospel along with me, and along with Clement and with many others. God has already written their names in the Book of Life."

Notice. Following this obviously heart-felt expression of love and hope for reconciliation, Paul says this odd thing. "Their names are already written in the Book of Life". You can almost predict the next sentence. Something along the lines of "Don't allow your names to be erased from the Holy Book, I entreat you dear sisters." That would seem to be the logical way to deal with a divisive dispute.

First, express concern for the parties in the dispute. Second, plead for harmony. Third, appoint a neutral third party to arbitrate. Fourth, appeal to their better natures by affirming their past success and cooperation. And finally, remind them very diplomatically of his authority over them. That's good practical psychology, as well as good conflict management. Any personnel director or social worker would be comfortable with such an approach.

But Paul doesn't do that. The next sentence is not a veiled threat, or even a chastening. Addressing not only Euodia and Syntyche, but the whole Philippian congregation, Paul issues, not a call to reconciliation, nor healing, nor fellowship, but rather, a call to joy.

"Rejoice in the Lord! Again I say Rejoice!" More than entreaties to stand firm, more than personal expressions of care and concern. more than calls to harmony, more than pastoral counseling, more than personal praise and reminders of past efforts, Paul seems to be counting on one thing and one thing alone to make peace in this troubled congregation.

And that is the gift of Joy in the Lord.

Paul figured that if Euodia and Syntyche could get busy rejoicing and ministering in their everyday lives, they would be so filled with the joy of service, that they’d be able to put aside their hurt feelings and anger with one another. The Apostle understood that the deep and abiding joy that comes from a genuine experience of the loving presence and forgiving grace of God is the only thing in this world powerful enough to drive out feelings like anger and resentment, envy and malice, sin and self-pity from the hearts of Euodia and Syntyche --and from your heart--and from mine.

Further on in the Letter, Paul talks about some of the virtues that would seem to be characteristic of the Christian life. The Apostle calls the church at Philippi, and the church at Lindenhurst, to lift up in our lives all that is noble and right and good and honorable and lovely and true. But, truth be told, none of those are distinctly Christian virtues.

Those characteristics of the moral life actually come from the Greek philosophy of Stoicism. Truth, nobility, purity, beauty, gentleness and goodness are just as possible for the First Century pagan, or for the modern secular humanist as they are for the contemporary Christian. Make no mistake. Those virtues are all, as Paul says, excellent and praiseworthy. And, if our personal lives are characterized by a lifting up of the right, the pure, the noble and the good, we will indeed be leading lives that are praiseworthy and excellent in the eyes of our God.

But such lives are not in and of themselves Christian. These are not the distinguishing marks of the Christian life. Neither are the spiritual gifts of Faith, Hope and Charity unique to followers of Jesus. The Christian, first and foremost, now and always, rejoices in her Lord. To paraphrase the Westminster Confession--"Humanity's chief end is to love God and enjoy God forever." That might be a Presbyterian creed, but it's just as true for us United Methodists as well. Unfortunately, so many Twenty-First Century believers of all denominations seem to have forgotten it.

"Rejoice in the Lord!" says Paul. "The Realm of Heaven is like a Wedding Reception" says Jesus. And our Lord teaches us that the Heavenly Sovereign has issued personal invitations to us. The Divine Realm of peace and plenty for all will be an occasion of great joy and celebration.

The Scribes and the Pharisees and the party of Herod, the oppressors, the wealthy slumlords, the powerful, the exploiters and the pimps, the corrupt politicians and the warmongers and war-profiteers all choose to ignore the Divine invitation. And then, the common people, the workers in Christ's vineyard, the faithful followers, the poor and the despised, the exploited and the oppressed and the needy, are invited to enter. And they gladly do so. Compared to the reality of their everyday lives, the abundance and equity of God's Realm becomes a veritable paradise.

A Wedding Reception. As long as I don't have to dance the "Chicken" or the "hookey pokey" it sounds like a good deal to me. We are to enjoy our faith. And we ought to be joyfully anticipating the Christ's coming Realm of Shalom. If not, what's the point? I can't imagine what that Heavenly party might be like--except I doubt it'll be like a riverboat casino. But if there's going to be no fun, no pleasure, no laughter, no justice, no shalom, what's the point?

Maybe you've heard the story of the sober-sided layman who decided one day that he'd been called to be in mission. So he approached his pastor and asked her advice. Taken by surprise, she suggested that perhaps this good-intentioned brother might want to go down to Morning Star Mission in Chicago and help out there. So he hopped in his car, drove down to Skid Row, walked in, introduced himself to the Superintendent of the Mission, and offered his services. Since it was rather late in the day, the only thing the Superintendent could think to do with this rather sour-faced brothers was put him out on the streets of skid row, inviting indigent and homeless people into the meeting that night.

The man agreed to give it a try. Soon he was out on the sidewalk accosting passers-by in a mournful tone, inviting them to come into the mission. To his surprise, no one responded. Everyone he spoke to, turned their heads and walked away. Finally he approached one man.

"Brother, won't you come into the meeting?" Cynically the man looked at his solemn face and replied.

"No thanks buddy, I got troubles enough of my own."

Troubles enough of my own. Is a solemn face and a judging frown the best recommendation we can for our faith? Rejoicing in the Lord doesn't mean we go around with a goofy grin on our faces all the time. But if we are glad in our Lord, if we are grateful for the gifts and graces we have received, it ought to somehow or other be apparent in our everyday lives and demeanors and our commitment to serve.

Happiness can come about in our lives by circumstances, coincidence, even by our own efforts. A new car would make me pretty happy. Only God can give me joy. The joy of faith is a gift from God. Once we recognize all God has given us and begin to give and live out thanks in Christ, joy will come to us. What joy will mean in our individual lives will depend on our nature, our expectations, our culture, but most especially by our needs.

For some, joy is an ecstatic experience. For others, it is a quiet certainty that we are loved and accepted by our Creator. For some of us, joy comes in the unconditional and affirming love of a partner, a parent, a child. Joy can come as the helping hand of a friend, lifting us out of a moment of sin and despair, or the satisfaction of a task of kindness well done

In the name of our Lord.

Joy can be loud or quiet, exciting or undergirding, fulfilling or challenging, or all of the above. However the experience of joy comes to us, it is always gracious, always unexpected, always undeserved, always empowering, often overpowering, and always a surprise. And when joy comes to us, what else can we do but acknowledge it, accept it, and give praise for it?

And at that moment, all of our disputes, all our envy and anger and grudge-holding becomes unimportant. At that moment we find that all of those poisonous attitudes and feelings have been washed away from our hearts by the in-flowing of God's love.

And at that moment, what else can we do except spread that joy to others? That means more than just pasting a phony smile on our deadpan mugs. It means praising God and immediately turning to wipe away the tear of our neighbor. It means testifying to the power of God in our lives by the way we live them.

It means witnessing to the lost and confused. It means getting more deeply involved in our local church. It means beginning to practice real stewardship, working at a church event, organizing a pantry, taking a foster child into our home, swinging a hammer at the Habitat house, lobbying for what is right. It means giving and witnessing and sharing in the struggle for justice and equity and peace and the planet, in Christ's name.

Whatever it was that so divided Euodia and Syntyche has been lost in the mists of history. But the joy that Paul called them, and the Philippian congregation, and us to, still lives today. Paul thought that Jesus was going to return in his own lifetime. Two thousand years later we must acknowledge, along with Jesus, "...of that day and hour no one knows, not even the Son."

But even if we have to wait another two thousand years, or just until lunchtime for the Divine Wedding Banquet, the invitations have been issued. Can we disengage our hearts from petty worries and concerns in order to free them up to rejoice in the Lord? We're all invited. The party is already starting--in our hearts and lives.

Shall we respond, or ignore the Sovereign's call and go off to our homes and workplaces? Will we seize and mistreat the messengers of God, or pay them heed? The word goes out on the street corners. Let us put on our party clothes and enter the hall. For many are called, but few choose to respond.Amen.