A sermon preached by the Rev'd Benjamin J. King at the Church of the Advent
on September 25, 2005, The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

There is hardly anything left of the Church of the Redeemer in Biloxi, Mississippi. If you look at the pictures of what was once a thriving Episcopal church, all that is left is the steel frame of the building and a battered “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You” sign. It is an unbelievable scene. All that remained of that church after Hurricane Katrina blew her way through the Gulf states a month ago was the frame and the sign.

And now with Hurricane Rita we have seen a fresh set of images like this on our TV screens and in the newspapers. The destructive force of nature has shown itself to be immense. Terrifying in fact. And, of course, the destructive force of human beings in the wake of Katrina was also pretty terrifying. Yet what we didn’t see in the news was the great work that church people were doing right after Katrina. Church people were some of the first to step up to help… and throughout the country continue to step up in droves.

Our own Diocese of Massachusetts has forged a partnership with the people of the Church of the Redeemer in Biloxi. Our Diocese is helping with the relief efforts and eventually aims to rebuild the church there, and you can contribute to this fund through the Diocesan website.

I thank God for the witness of churches in the Gulf Coast at this time. After Katrina, when things turned nasty for those who remained in and around New Orleans, it was the churches who responded to the displaced people first. The churches were first, while government was struggling to get its act together. The churches were first, helping rather than just talking about it: doing God’s work, not just saying they would.

It has been really inspiring to see how effective churches can be – how effective even the Episcopal Church can be – when we concentrate on what unites us, not on what divides us. The churches came into their own when they put aside doctrinal differences to respond to an emergency that had shattered people’s homes and lives. The churches responded in witness to Jesus’s words in our gospel today to work for God’s kingdom.

Our gospel today presents us with a parable about doing God’s work. Jesus tells the story of two sons: two sons about whom we know next to nothing, except that they are asked by their father to help in the vineyard. Now in Jesus’ parables, the vineyard is often suggestive of God’s kingdom on earth, an idea that goes back to the prophet Isaiah who spoke of Israel as a vineyard loved by God. So it seems to be that to work in the father’s vineyard is to work for God’s kingdom in the world – or “to do the will of the father” as Jesus says (Mt 21:31).

Now, the second of the sons in the parable is the sort of person who likes to say “yes,” when actually the answer is no. I know a lot of people like that – in fact, I am sometimes that sort of person myself. “Ben, will you come out for a beer with me Saturday?” “Yes,” I answer, fully aware that when Saturday comes I will probably phone up with some excuse why I can’t come. Something plausible like: “Sorry, I’ve got to preach a sermon on Sunday.”

The first son, though, is not a say-er but a do-er. He says he won’t help, but then he does. To start with, maybe he doesn’t think he has time to help his father. Maybe he has other things on his plate – working his own land, doing his own job, paying his own mortgage, getting his own kids through college. He answers “no” to start with. But then he changes his mind and goes and does the will of his father.

Which, asks Jesus, is the better son? In other words, who is the better son or daughter of God? The person who talks the talk, or the person who actually does the work? It is those who do the will of the Father, says Jesus, who are rewarded.

So all who are sons and daughters of God are called to work for the kingdom. We are not just to say that we will work… we’re actually to do it. Jesus tells us to. Not just to come to church every Sunday to say the words, to talk the liturgical talk and walk the liturgical walk; we’re actually to do the work of God’s kingdom here.

The church people who responded first to Katrina were examples of what Jesus is talking about. They were not only say-ers, but do-ers. In fact, they were examples to us in this parish church. For, though not as extreme as the crisis facing the parish in Biloxi, Mississippi, we at the Church of the Advent are facing a building crisis too.

We have not been through a terrifying hurricane, but this building has been through 120-or-so Boston winters: 120 years of the north-east winds buffeting her spire, of snow and ice chipping away at her sandstone and mortar. We have not been through a terrifying hurricane, but then we cannot blame a hurricane for knocking down our building. We can only blame ourselves for not doing the work that God is calling us to do to prevent this building falling down.

If I may speak personally for a moment, most of you now know that I will soon be leaving this place to take another position across the river. But, though I leave, I am going to do whatever I can to stop this building falling down. I love this place. I’ve had five wonderful years here: there is no more stunning church in North America; there is no better acoustic for all the wonderful music we hear in this church; there is no more faithful a group of people than those who met here every Sunday. How could I have it on my conscience if I didn’t do everything I could to fix this beautiful building, to maintain this place for the people who worship here?

So I have committed to give money to the Capital Campaign over the next three years. I have committed to being an active participant in the fund-raising for the building even when I leave. I want to do this because I believe that, as in the parable, God wants me to do his will. I also do this because, whenever I go back and forth on the T across the river, I want to be able to say: “I did my bit to keep that wonderful church standing.”

Whenever I go over the bridge, I look out of the window and see the spire of the Advent standing out against the beautiful Boston skyline. I see the spire and it makes me happy... I usually catch myself smiling. I also catch myself swelling with pride. I am the curate of that church, I say to myself. That majestic church with her architecture and history and people. Seeing the church makes me happy and proud: and I hope you all feel the same when you go across the bridge. And it scares me that, if we don’t do something soon, if we don’t raise enough money to start work on the tower in March, that spire won’t be there much longer.

So many of you have given wonderfully generous gifts to the Campaign, given as much as you are able to give. And I take the point of Jesus’ parable that we are indeed to be as generous in our “doing” as possible. Those of us who started off thinking there wasn’t much we could do, like the first son in the parable, we need to think again. How many of us are like him with regards to the Campaign? How many have said “no” to making a big donation because there’s a mortgage to pay, or college fees to cover, or health worries to occupy us?

But we must remember, like those who reacted first to Hurricane Katrina, that our family is wider than the group of people we are closest to. What if stewardship for your family included looking out for your parish family and the wider family of Christians throughout this country and the world?

If you have already said “no” – whether in your heart or out loud – to a Campaign pledge, or if you have only made a smaller donation than you are really able, this is your opportunity to think again, to pledge again, to do the work of God’s kingdom afresh. This Campaign is the work of God’s kingdom. Let us follow the example of the second brother and think again, redouble our efforts, and do God’s work.

As has been shown with Katrina, a hurricane is not capable of stopping Christians doing God’s work. If we do our work here, this building will continue to be a symbol of God’s kingdom in the world. Let the symbol of the work we have to do be that spire which we see every time we go over the river. We must keep that spire standing strong.