Where Do We Go From Here? - The Rev. David F. Potter Sermons from St. Martin-in-the-Fields

Listen in to the sermon from the Rev. David Potter for the Last Sunday of Easter, May 29, 2022.Support the worship and ministry of St. Martin's by giving online: stmartinec.org/giveToday's readings are:Acts 16:16-34Revelation 22:12-14,16-17,20-21John 17:20-26Psalm 97Readings may be found on LectionaryPage.net: https://lectionarypage.net/Where do we go from here?

The Rev. David Potter

May 29, 2022

On this Ascension Sunday, we commemorate the earthly departure of Jesus with these words. And through them, the Church is called to unity.

This prayer Jesus offers anticipates and responds to a question which will no doubt later surface for Jesus' followers: "Where do we go from here?"

Throughout this past week, this same question has continually rumbled around in my own thoughts and prayers. And after completing seminary just last weekend, it is especially relevant. For myself and any others in this graduation season, what comes next is often a question posed to us--just as much as it is a question and discern we ask of ourselves.

And surely this same wondering is present here in this community at St. Martin-in the-Fields. Uncertainty is inherent in any search process for new clergy, to say the least.

But, still even more widely, in light of over two years of pandemic concerns and restrictions, especially now as they begin to ease, this question seemingly lingers everywhere. Where do we go from here?

We are in transition. A world lies behind us which is no more--and the world before us remains unknown. Now, living through these times of change like these is far from easy. At times it may even feel like simply too much.

The tension between what has been and what will be can feel like chaos. And in this place, I often find myself searching for some reassurance of stability--for some anchor to hold on.

So, for those carrying burdens here in this place this morning, receive this as permission to come as you are. In these brief moments, may we all know and may we remind ourselves that we hold these burdens with and for one another.

"That they all may be one." In a moment of tremendous transition, Jesus prays these words. In the remaining instruction of his earthly ministry, his desire for the disciples, for his followers, becomes abundantly clear:

that they know they are loved,

that they love one another,

and that through them the world might come to know love.

Soon the disciples will no longer have Jesus with them--and they will face many challenges and much unknown. And it is in this context with great obstacles to loving one another, that Jesus admonishes his followers toward unity.

This kind of unity is a discipline to which he knows they will need to return over and over again--because apart from a resilient commitment to one another, the heavy burdens they carry will simply be too much to bear.

This kind of unity is no simple feel-good-warm-and-fuzzy feeling. And neither is it a demand for uniformity within the disciples. Rather, what Jesus calls them to, and calls the church to, is something essential to both their individual and their common wellbeing.

Now, I admit, in these polarizing times, my initial impulse is not always toward becoming "completely one" with those I disagree with. Perhaps this is something you can relate to. Because cultivating unity across the broad chasms of ideological and political difference can often seem futile and quite naive.

And when great potential for harm exists by remaining in relationship with others, especially with others who may not affirm our right to exist, appealing to unity can be quite dangerous.

In this past week, yet another mass shooting has claimed the lives of innocent children. This time at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas--merely weeks after the deadly and racist shootings in Detroit and Buffalo.

But in the numbing wake of senseless death and overwhelming grief, there are simply no adequ