Unexpected Miracles

(Sermon delivered by Eve Yabroff on Sunday, October 17, 2004)

In the Gospel of Mark we read, “He also said, ‘The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.’ ”

This parable we have heard again and again and each time it reminds me of the adventure that was and is St. Philip’s. I would like to be able to say that when Martin told me that the Bishop thought it would be a great opportunity to plant a church in Scotts Valley that I was enthusiastic, but there were so many pre-conceptions that deterred me. First, that word, “plant”. I have no genetic connection to the farming community but I know that those farming metaphors always mean that one starts with very little, works very hard, trusts implicitly and yet is still subject to all “acts of God”. I really knew we were in trouble when the Bishop suggested we go to a conference on “church planting”. It is never a good thing when they have to send you to a conference … especially one in Arizona in August! All those little seeds that we were to carry with us and “plant” in Scotts Valley would surely die in the harsh Arizona sun! And so for five days we ran from air-conditioned room to air-conditioned room, hearing all the trials and tribulations of starting a church. If I had any faith or spirit of adventure when we left for Arizona, I can tell you it was totally extinguished at the end of the conference!

I sound as if we were being sent off to the far reaches of Africa … actually, after living in Pacific Grove and worshipping at St. Mary’s-By-the-Sea, even Scotts Valley seemed like Africa. But we arrived with three little ones and of course another one on the way (they told us to plant a church!). On that first Sunday in the back of Doctors on Duty, Martin and Peggy Thompson were at the front of a small storage room and Emily, Alex, Sarah and I sat in the back pew (there were only three pews) with a box of crayons. Our first Sunday school! I knew that it was not a good sign if the collective count of clergy and vicars family was roughly triple the size of the whole congregation. I wish I could tell you that I sat there with a clear and constant faith- Martin referenced the term midwifery- well let’s just say I wasn’t clear we were going to have a natural birth and in a sense I felt the need to prepare the C-section room just in case. I sat there in prayer alright, but not asking God to help the growth of St. Philip’s … that would be indeed a miracle beyond my imagination … I just was thinking of a part time job I might be able to find if the venture didn’t work out.

My practical skepticism was ever present. I had little doubt that Martin was called to serve in Scotts Valley but I just could not get past the enormity of the effort. I worried that our children would not have a real Sunday school or think of the church as a beautiful place. Indeed with such small numbers, their very connection to those at St. Philip’s had a very special meaning and when people would come and go it was so difficult.

And so from year to year, from that back pew in Doctors on Duty to the hallways of city hall to Sunday school in the yet-unrenovated Scott house to the class rooms at Star Lodge Hospital, a community took root. As in the parable, though the farmer knows not how it happens, the miracle that is community took on strength. The Lord provided amazing people who were true adventurers undaunted by the fact that they had to move the church each Sunday or that their children would be sitting on the floor for Sunday school. Boxes were packed, put into the trunk, unpacked and then repacked again.

In the silence and in the chaos of each Sunday morning connections were made between families, individuals, and indeed the community at large. The Holy Spirit moved and weaved together souls, creating history and presence and the possibility of future. We had liturgical dances and Christmas pageants (usually with the newest member of the church as Jesus). Those rugged pioneers, the Jacksons, the Connors, the Dodds, the Evans and so many others simply gave of themselves and continued in faith. Babies were born and babies died, there was tremendous employment for people and then tremendous unemployment, there was illness and miracles of healing; all these things weaving together, revealing the love of Christ through community. It was not unlike the beautiful quilts that surround us this morning: threads creating squares, squares creating scenes and finally design creating feeling and often telling stories.

Certainly my “Chicken Little” attitude was not particularly helpful in those many years. It is so easy to simply move forward and focus on the next goal, the next task, the next season, the curve in the road, all the while losing perspective on the distance you have come and the wonderful miracles along the way. And if I have regret, it is that I did not pause more often and appreciate, celebrate, and give thanks for the wonderful harvest before us, so often being preoccupied with the crop of next year. My message to you is, don’t miss the miracle of the glorious fields before you, pause before you enter with sickle in hand and just reflect on the miracle of that landscape and then enjoy the harvest, the community, the family that is St. Philip’s.

Eve Yabroff

Who do people say that I am?

John the Baptist; and others, Elijah;
and still others, one of the prophets.

But who do you say that I am?

You are the Messiah.