SunNov72010
II THESSALONIANS 2:1-5, 13-17
Dodransbicentennial: a nineteen-letter word you don’t hear everyday. In fact, I had ever heard before. Being as learned as you are, though, you probably all knew that it’s a word meaning “175th Anniversary.” And what you may not have known is that this is the Dodransbicentennial year of Federated Church. We are 175 years old.
This seems an apt day to mark that anniversary, this day on which we remember saints who have died, this day on which we mark our gratitude for the blessings of God. Because one of God’s great blessings is the generations who have gone before us, our church mothers and fathers, who have passed on to us the faith, hope, and love of God, and given us the sustenance to carry on.
There’s no way we could convey a full and complete history of Federated this morning, so I thought instead that we might simply lift up some snippets, as a brief reminder of where we’ve come from and who we are. Twenty five years ago, on the occasion of the church’s sesquicentennial, senior pastor John Townsend delivered a series of four lectures on the church’s history, a published series that some of you might find interesting to read. And Janet Peters has arranged a wonderful display down in Fellowship Hall, with some artifacts and pictures that you can look at after worship. I simply want to mention a few of its many chapters today.
First, just to clarify: many of you know that there is no denomination called “Federated.” We are called that because we were born from the joining of two local churches, one a part of the Disciples of Christ, one a part of the Congregational Church.
The Disciples of Christ was one of the few denominations born on American soil. The Congregationalists were English separatists who were looking for a place in which to worship freely, and first came to this continent on the Mayflower.
The Disciples church that was our forerunner was just outside the boundaries of the town, only about a mile west of here. So we date ourselves from the Congregational Church’s beginnings, the first church in Chagrin Falls, in 1835. One of the most striking parts of our history is that, of all the many clergy who have served this church, undoubtedly the most distinguished was none other than the twentieth president of the United States, James A. Garfield. Garfield, who was born in what is now Moreland Hills, and later attended Williams College, where I also went, briefly filled the pulpit in the Disciples church. A number of you, I’m sure, are aware of that, but it wasn’t until this week that I learned of my illustrious predecessor.
As did most churches of the time, the Disciples building was oriented the opposite of the way we face. The doors were on either side of the pulpit, so church-goers entered from the front rather than the back. This, says one our church’s histories, was “so the members could be constantly reminded that punctuality is heaven’s first law” (A History of The Federated Church, UCC, 1835-1985, p. 8).
In 1889, a visitor to the church wrote in the newspaper: “It is not often that I feel like speaking specially of the singing, but this church is blessed with the best company of singers, popularly called a choir, I have found in a whole year. They sing gloriously themselves, and they [help everyone] else . . . [make] a joyful noise unto the Lord [as well]” (History, p. 9). To which I would simply say: some things never change!
One of the striking characteristics of the early Congregational Church was its passion for racial justice. In fact, the church covenant at one point said, “All persons admitted to this church shall give satisfactory evidence: That they regard slavery as a heinous sin in the sight of God; and that those persons who countenance it, either by advocating the system or indirectly apologizing for it are not in the exercise of those graces of the Spirit which alone qualify them for membership and therefore not entitled to Church membership” (History, p. 13). What an extraordinary litmus test! I wonder if there will ever again be a moral issue that would lead the church to draw such a clear line in the sand.
One last intriguing item. Until John Townsend came to this church in 1948, pastorates here had been relatively short. John then served as senior pastor for thirty nine years. After John left, Dave Norling served for sixteen years. What’s striking is that, on the Congregational side of the merger, thirty nine ministers have served in the position I now hold. Of those thirty nine, only four have served longer pastorates than I have had. Because John and Dave were here so long, and with the long and wonderful service of Ron Woodruff and David Pointer, and now Dan DeWeese and Mark Simone, as associate pastors, I would have guessed that pastors here had stayed longer than they did. Not so. Twenty five years ago, in reflecting on this, John Townsend said some words which, with a change of date, you can apply to me: “I came in July of 1948 and have thus far been difficult to budge. I promise to try to read the signs, covert and overt, and shall try not to wear out my welcome; although to some I’m sure it must not look that way” (Congregational-Disciple Heritage of The Federated Church, 1835-1960, p. 15).
So where does all this leave us on this All Saints’ Sunday, this day on which we focus on gratitude as we anticipate next Sunday’s pledging of our gifts? It leaves us here: we are extraordinarily blessed. God has been extremely good to this church. And we can see this in a whole host of ways. It’s tempting, when doing any kind of history, to focus on big events and leaders. And there’s something important about that. Buildings and mergers and pastorates matter in the church.
What I’m struck by, though, on a daily basis, is the things that have gone on here that never make any history book, but are the real backbone of a strong and vital church. With enormous conviction, members and friends of Federated have acted on their faith, and have made a difference in the world every single day. People here have served on building committees and finance committees; they have put on horse shows and dinners for St. Paul’s Church, our sister church; they have brought meals to people who were within inches of giving up on there being anything good in the world; they have taught impressionable children songs and stories and prayers to sustain them when times got tough; they have sung, sometimes for decades, in choirs that have lifted countless spirits; they have gone on mission trips that have opened up new worlds in the lives of both traveler and host; they have offered prayers for healing and peace.
On this special Sunday, we remember all those who are engaged in rich and flourishing ministries now. But we remember, as well, earlier generations who have built and sustained the church, and how, even though they are now gone, nevertheless they and we are bound inseparably in a union that ties us together even across that apparently impermeable boundary we call death. “O blest communion,” says one of the great old hymns of the church, “company divine! We live and struggle, they in glory shine; and yet all are one in thee, for all are thine. Alleluia, alleluia” (“For All the Saints,” v. 3).
I come here today to echo our passage from II Thessalonians, and to say thank you to all those saints who have gone before us. Thank you to the people who have lived joyfully and faithfully as Federated Church; thank you to all sorts of mothers and fathers and mentors in the faith who have bequeathed to us something special; thank you to witnesses for peace and hope and love and joy. And especially thank you to the God who has made it all possible: who has filled the empty with good things, who has adored even those whom no one else could love, and who has promised that death is not the end.
And because I am as grateful as I am, I say with the writer of the letter to the Hebrews: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (12:1-2). We have our own legacy to leave. So next Sunday, let us give generously and joyfully and lovingly. For we have been incredibly blessed. And this will be our way of saying, “Thank you.”