Episcopal Church of the Messiah

Worship Service Sermons

March 9, 2008

 The Reverend Carolyn Estrada

"Prophesy to these bones."

"Take away the stone."

"Lazarus, come out!"

"Unbind him, and let him go!"

Much as we would often like a God who performs miracles FOR us, Jesus shows us time and again a God who performs miracles WITH us.

He may make the mud, and rub it on our eyelids, as in last Sunday’s lesson, but we are the ones who must go to the Pool of Siloam to wash in order to regain our sight.

He may raise Lazarus from the dead, but someone must roll away the stone, and Lazarus must respond to the call to come out.

On the other hand, there’s also that part of us that would like US to be the architects of our own miracles – in spite of the fact that apart from God none of the blind man’s washing can restore his sight, and none of Martha and Mary’s lamentations can bring Lazarus back to life.

It’s hard for us to wrap our minds around the concept of "miracle."

We don’t understand them – and perhaps therein lies the problem: rather than understand them, we should just accept them.

A miracle, of course, is something which happens outside the normal course of events; it is irregular and unexpected.

But it is also true that a miracle often happens with and in the midst of the ordinary of our lives; a miracle uses the people at hand to roll away the stone; it uses the dirt under our feet to make the mud which opens our eyes.

Fifty years ago, Civic Center Dr. was called Church Street, in honor of the many churches lining both sides of the street.

Thirty-five years ago, as the demographics of downtown started changing, people began moving to the suburbs, and, in what some might say was the "normal course of events," membership in downtown churches began to decline. Many closed their doors, relocating along with their members. Of the few who stayed, many looked backwards – attempting to hang on to what-had-been, and slowly dying themselves...

There is an old saying: "When God closes one door, God opens another."

But there is also a corollary: if we keep looking at the closed door, we may not see the other, we may not discover it is there for us to walk through; we may not realize that we are being called to roll away the stone on a whole new chapter of our lives…

I think of these things today: looking backward, looking forward, finding God where we are, and the collaborative efforts of miracles, as we celebrate Spanish ministry at Messiah.

Twenty-five years ago, Father Brad took Raquel Salcines out to lunch to talk with her about his desire to start a ministry in Spanish.

Messiah had a contingent of Cuban refugees as parishioners. They came to our 10 o’clock service, even though many of them didn’t speak English. And they were integrated into the life of the congregation, many of our parishioners helping them to find places to live, furnish their homes, procure employment. (A poignant story here: Raquel told me that someone in this congregation gave her a set of flatware to use as she was furnishing her home, and even today, when she sets the table, she puts at her place a fork from that set of flatware – a tangible reminder of where’s she’s been and where she’s come, and the love of the people in this parish who helped her.)

But the reality was that there were more and more Spanish-speaking people living in Santa Ana. This congregation recognized the truth that prayer – often called "primary speech" – springs spontaneously out of one’s native language.

The reality of the changing demographics of this community seemed to demand a response.

It was as though we could hear that same voice from the pages of Ezequiel, coming across the ages to us: Prophesy to these bones!

So: the fateful meeting between Father Brad and Raquel: the taking away of the stone that opened the door to Spanish ministry at Messiah, the unbinding of a new and vital ministry in this sacred space.

The ministry started small: Raquel and her mother; a few others – six in all, meeting in the choir pews.

Raquel helped by translating Brad’s sermons and helping him with his pronunciation..

Spanish classes met in the parish hall.

Sometimes it was discouraging, and people questioned the ministry: "Why are we doing this?" "Maybe we should just give up…"

But Father Brad was persistent: "As long as there are two people to pray," he said, "we will continue."

And continue they did, allowing God to work through them to grow this ministry, gradually adding parishioners, as people invited their friends and neighbors. (Juana Cordova’s extended family alone could swell the congregation to over forty!) Word spread about this old red church where people were family and the Spirit of God was palpable.

The success of our Spanish ministry today – with 90 to 100 people participating in worship on any given Sunday – is a testimony to the manner in which God has worked collaboratively with efforts of Father Brad and a handful of parishioners who opened themselves to hear God calling them to respond to the needs of a changing demographic, calling them to a different way of being in the world. It is a profound example of how God acts in our ordinary circumstances and out of our ordinary humanity, using each one’s gifts and talents – whether it be language or persistence or resources – to bring about God’s purposes in the world.

Can we hear God calling us this morning?

Where is God calling us today? What is God asking us to do? How might we collaborate with God in the world? What miracles might we work together?