The Feast of the Dedication

Sunday, 4 October 2009
The Rev’d Lloyd Prator

New York City

The Church of st. John the Baptist in Inglesham, Wiltshire, England is an old Church. In the United States, an old church is one that was built in the 19th century. In England, a not very old church is one built in the ninth century—and there are plenty older than that. I know about St. John’s in Inglesham, because on a trip I made to England years ago, a cousin of mine told me that this was the village in which the Prator Family, my family, once lived. And this was their parish church.

As it turned out, there was no record of the family; the church was now redundant—disused and preserved as a historic relic—but open to all for tourist inspection. It was a somewhat squat little building, but some nice memorials and murals inside.

I looked for a cornerstone or some other indication as to when this church might have been dedicated for use by the Bishop of Wiltshire, but there was one. And there probably never was one. As the Church in England became more organized in the Middle Ages, the synods of the church were faced with an interesting issue. People are so devoted to their parish churches that it is natural for them to want to recall and celebrate the annual anniversary of the dedication of the building. But there were many churches like St. John the Baptist in Inglesham where the record of the dedication of the church was lost in the mists of history.

So, the synods of the Church of England passed a canon law back in about the fourteenth century to address the problem. Any parish church, which was unsure of the actual date of its dedication, could celebrate that anniversary on the first Sunday in October. And thus the day that we celebrate today was born. There is an interesting coincidence about our dedication as the Church of St. John the Evangelist in the City of New York. I am not sure of this was accidental, but as it happens, the Bishop of New York came to dedicate this building Sunday the first of October 1978. This church was dedicated on the feast of the Dedication, the first Sunday of October.

So, this place is rather well focused on the Dedication, whether it is a dimension of our interesting history—or whether it is an aspect of our mission as a congregation.

The readings today speak elegantly of the imagery and symbolism of buildings. The first lesson is about Solomon’s prayer on the occasion of the dedication of the first great temple in Jerusalem. The second reading is a parable, drawing parallels between a building and the development of a life in Christ. The gospel is about the cleansing of the temple in Jerusalem.

But this is not the dedication of which I want to speak today. This is a parish where dedication is conspicuously evident, where dedication is a characteristic of its members and a guiding principle of its mission. Let’s take just a moment to feel some of the stirrings of dedication around this place.

Two parents in the neighborhood are sadly reading a notice from their school. The music program, in which they hoped to enroll their daughter, had been cancelled. No funding for this year. What shall we do? They asked each other. Not at all clear. Music lessons cost a lot of money. Walking to the river one day, they happen by St. John’s and see a little poster offering free after school music training in the choir school the parish operates. This might be a possibility. And the two look at each other and decide it is worth a try. Six months later, they are aglow. The choirmaster is so fine and the musical training is so appealing that they are delighted. The talent and dedication of the parish musician has stirred their hearts. Dedication.

Deep in the heart of the Bronx, a young Hispanic man finally realizes he has to admit that he has AIDS. He has not gone to church for a very, very long time. The last time, the pastor preached a sermon about homosexuality being—what was it? —an intrinsic moral disorder, or something like that. Whatever that might mean, it did not sound good, and he slipped out of Church and never went back. And now, where is God? Has God abandoned him? One of his friends tells him about a little church in the West Village where they have a program for people who want to rebuild their Christian life on adult terms and he signs up to join the Open Door. And it restores his faith, gives him community and helps him to pray in a way he has not since he was a teenager. What a dedicated group of people this is, he marvels. Dedication.

A young executive in publishing has must moved to New York and is starting her career. For the first time, she comes to know a Muslim—in fact a family who lives down the hall. And what does she know about their faith? Not much like her own Episcopalian background, she things. Certainly a different political vision than her own. She has googled a few articles, but nothing seemed to catch her attention. Then, having decided to attend St. John’s in the Village, she spots an advertisement for their three part class series. At last a forum where she can ask questions and hear a presentation which makes some sense. Just what I needed, she said, walking home after the last class. What a dedicated teacher that priest was. Dedicated. This is a place where there is much dedication, to the realm of the intellectual life and inquiry.

Or a young teenager stalks out of the house and slams the door behind him. He has had it. Not one more whining word from his parents. He wants to make his own way and forge his own decisions. Where could he find someone to talk to? Sitting in the park as the day came to an end, his friend came and sat down next to him, asking what was wrong. He told him about the fight at home. His friend told him about this little church downtown where there was this great group of people who are great listeners and have good things to say. Try it, he said, these folks are really dedicated to helping kids. Folks with dedication to teens who want to talk. That is dedication.

St. Paul’s church, way upstate almost at the end of the diocese, is almost flat broke. The congregation is tiny, the needs are tremendous and the building is a wreck. Where will we find the money to go on, the wardens ask each other? No ready answer. But the next week, a call from the Bishop’s office provides at least part of one. It seems that for some reason, there is a little more money than expected in the Congregational Support Plan for the Diocese, designed to support parishes in places that cannot support them on their own. These days, the wardens wonder, no program ever comes up with more money—so how could this be? The Bishop’s Canon to the Ordinary explains that several parishes in the city had decided to maintain their full assessment this year, when they had the option to reduce it. And that meant more money coming to poor parishes upstate. Care to guess who one of those parishes was? It was your vestry, showing dedication to the church’s
missionary imperatives, who decided to shoulder the full burden of support to the diocese. That is a vestry that understands dedication. And it is your dedicated vestry.

Solomon was a builder. Because he spoke in such constructive terms, the writer of the first letter of Peter may well have been a builder, too. The pious legend is that Jesus the Lord was a carpenter, a man who knew how to build.

Following their example, we are building something good here at the corner of 11th and Waverly. Would you consider dedicating yourself to the work we are doing? Today begins our fall stewardship campaign. This is the time to consider your own dedication to this place where so many are so dedicated to so many good things. This is the feast of the dedication. It celebrates the dedication of a building. But it also celebrates the dedication of a people, a people whom the Lord intends to build up as a holy temple to reflect his glory in the world for which he died.