Do you know why NHL hockey players traditionally let their facial hair grow out during the playoffs?

It is customary to see Stanley Cup finalists not trim nor groom their hair – mustaches and beards – during the so-called “second” season of the NHL. The further a team goes deep into the playoffs, especially now in June, the shaggier their heads and faces look!

It is a symbol of their commitment. The shaggy beards represent a singular, grueling focus. Everything else besides their mission to win is not a priority. Surviving the two-month tournament requires immense physical grit. And the beards act as a badge of honor for that resilience.

Since I finished my practicum a couple of months ago, around the time the NHL playoffs were about to begin, I too, haven’t cut my hair. Mind you, there’s not a lot to begin with atop my head! But this is likely the longest I’ve let my hair grow since I’ve been your pastor.

When a new call has beckoned and lots of things are changing quickly, I feel the effects of maintaining a gruelling focus on the path ahead. Certain things that were once important get relegated to a lower place on the priority list – like a visit to the barber – when there is only one good focus that needs attention: The next step on the journey.

I want to begin and end my sermon with two different prayers from our Lutheran liturgy, framing my words today in the themes important to us at this time of transition in our lives.

Let us pray:

O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Augsburg Fortress, 2008, p. 206).

Matthew was called to follow Jesus. Biblical translators have entitled this story as “The Call of Matthew” (Matthew 9:9-13). Indeed, we are called to ventures whose entire path is not yet clear. I don’t think Matthew knew, when he said, “Yes!” to follow Jesus, what exactly he was getting himself into.

The congregation here at Faith is stepping now onto an exciting new path whose ending is still not clear, as far as calling a new pastor – you don’t know who that will be. You will need to trust the process, and each step of the way, before the answer emerges.

When Simon, chair of council, spoke last week to you about the congregation needing to complete a mission profile, it struck me that calling a pastor is first about understanding the call of the congregation. When you indicate your priorities, you are tapping in on something important in your understanding of faith and church. And your call.

What is at stake in this process is not merely the call of one person, the pastor, and what gifts they might bring. But this experience in its fullness draws to light, and exposes the call of everyone in the congregation, the call of everyone to follow Christ.

At an installation service of a new pastor decades ago at St James Lutheran Church in Renfrew, I heard the then assistant to the bishop, the Rev. Guenter Dahle, preach a dandy sermon. He made it clear that everyone shared responsibility for the ministry of the congregation.

It wasn’t the ministry of the pastor they were supporting. It was the ministry of the church.  Let me repeat: This call process is not about just pastors. Essentially, this is about identifying and celebrating the mission of the whole congregation.

Yes, we are on a journey, a pilgrimage that never ends. An experience that takes us only one proverbial step at a time. Of whose endings we don’t yet see, but just enough to be confident of the next step.

How can we be confident of the next step? Stanley Cup winning teams will admit that their winning ways can be attributed in part to ‘puck-luck’ – those bounces that go in their favour, referee decisions that were fortuitous, injuries are minimal. From that perspective, they say ‘the hockey gods’ were on their side.

Some are quick to add that good teams create their ‘puck-luck’. Even so, to win is not solely the result of hard work, physical stamina and dogged commitment. There is that intangible element that is hard to put your finger on to describe what accounts for a championship run. Some teams just get a good dose of grace at the right time.

Matthew knew he was not a popular and hardly a righteous man. The crowds vilified, as we do today, the ‘tax man’. He was definitely not a model of moral perfection and faithfulness. But Jesus is quick to clarify that he calls not the righteous into God’s family, but sinners. “I desire mercy …” Jesus emphasizes (Matthew 9:13).

We get closer to Jesus, and Jesus gets closer to us, not when we get it right but especially when we get it wrong. Former bishop of the Episcopalian Church in the U. S., Michael Curry, reflects on the words of a mentor who supported him in his times of transition and possibility:

“We always see through a glass darkly, and that is what faith is about. I will live by the best I can discern today. Tomorrow I may find out I was wrong. Since I do not live by being right, I am not destroyed by being wrong” (Curry, 2020, pp. 166-184).

If we don’t have to be perfect for Jesus to call us to the table of communion, if we don’t have to be morally righteous for us to receive the invitation of grace, mercy and love of God, if we don’t have to get it perfectly right before making a big decision, we can like Matthew say “yes!”, commit to the journey, trust the voice of Jesus calling in our hearts, “get up and follow him” (Matthew 9:9).

I love this quote from John Steinbeck’s book, East of Eden: “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” I believe we can be good people.

Welcoming a new member into Faith, as we do shortly, is an opportunity for us all to ponder the call of Christ in our hearts. We welcome Maeve using the words from the affirmation of faith in the liturgy of confirmation. The church, after all, is not just the pastor. The church is the people.

Let us pray:

O God, full of compassion, we commit and commend ourselves to you, in whom we live and move and have our being. Be the goal of our pilgrimage, and our rest by the way. Give us refuge from the turmoil of worldly distractions beneath the shadow of your wings. Let our hearts, so often a sea of restless waves, find peace in you, O God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Augsburg Fortress, 2008, p. 363)

The Call of Matthew reminds me of a childhood song I first learned during a church service – in a congregation named after Matthew – St Matthew’s Lutheran Church in Conestogo Ontario, near Waterloo in Southern Ontario, the church in which I was confirmed:

The church is not a steeple. The church is not a building. The church is not a resting place. The church is the people. I am the church. You are the church. We are the church together. All who follow Jesus, all around the world. Yes, we’re the church together.

References:

Augsburg Fortress. (2008). Evangelical Lutheran worship: Pastoral care – occasional services, readings, prayers. Augsburg Fortress.

Curry M. B., & Grace, S. (2020). Love is the way: Holding on to hope in troubling times. Avery.