NRS John 17
20 "I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word,
21 that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, 23 I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. 24 Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. 25 "Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. 26 I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them."

Dear Friends in Christ, may the Lord keep us in the unity of the Holy Spirit to the honor and glory of our Father God; for the sake of Jesus the Messiah. Amen.

Mention church and some people hear songs wafting over cornfields from a white clapboard building set against a sky of crystal blue. Other people hear the word church and they smell the scent of beeswax candles glimmering in front of dark oak panels beneath a rainbow of stained glass. Sometimes people think church and they see old white guys, like me, wearing funny hats and handing down dogma purporting to explain God's ways to men. For still others church is all about towering steeples, or chiming bells, or never-ending sermons. But for me, when I think of church, I see hands.

Every Sunday I see hands cupped before me to receive the Body and Blood of our Lord. I see hands young and old, large and small, male and female. I see hands that change diapers, and hands that change tires. I see hands that slice and dice, stir-fry and sauté, and hands that make instruments sing, translating black marks on white paper into glorious music. I see hands grown rough and cracked through years of heavy labor, and hands still fresh and pink with the vigor of youth. I see hands that ache with arthritis, and hands that ache for simple human touch. Hands that push pencils and hands that pound nails, that scrub and scour and clean, that comfort and console, that click the mouse that commands the computer that runs the program that turns the turbine that keeps the lights on, I see hands -- open and trembling, open and steady, open and expectant. When I think of the church, I see hands.

From the Gospel of John, we know that when God thinks church, God does not envision bricks and mortar, or even pews and pulpits. When in today's Gospel Jesus prays for the community of his beloved disciples, he does not petition his Father in heaven to grant them power and privilege, or impressive buildings, or a well-funded budget. What Jesus prays and what God dreams for the church is that "they may be one" (John 17:21, 23). By "one," does Jesus mean a vertically integrated, multi-level, transnational corporation governed by a global board of directors? I don't think so. Or does Jesus envision a homogeneous body of Stepford-like clones who all look alike, think alike, and vote alike? Hardly. When Jesus prays for his disciples to be one, he is praying that they may live together in such a way that the world will see what life can be when lived in, with, and through Jesus.

Maybe you remember that old movie, "Oh, God!" And maybe you remember the message that George Burns' God gave to the John Denver character to deliver: that the world can work. When Jesus prays for his disciples to be one, he is praying that in him they will live as a sign to the world that humanity can work, and working, behold the glory of God in him. As Jesus' own miracles were signs not simply of his power and might but of his divine origins, so the church is God's sign to the world that in Christ we can truly live as one people, for all our differences and distinctions.

In the world's social order, of course, the church is just another voluntary organization that individuals can choose to join, or not. According to the tax-code, we're just another 501(c)(3) not-for-profit whose members can deduct donations on their forms 1040. And in the culture of consumerism, we're just another outlet at which our customers shop for their religious goods and services. Too often we've mistakenly appropriated these worldly images as the whole truth of our churchly existence, leading us to think of ourselves as just another business out to win a bigger market share of churchgoers from our competitors. And rather than being a sign for the world, we become instead a sign of the world, divided, conflicted, and dysfunctional. And we wonder why people don't go to church like they used to?

I learned a long time ago that people don't want to go to a church that's fighting and fussing all the time. Most people have enough stress and strain in their lives without coming to church on Sunday morning only to get more of the same. But does that mean we have to walk on eggshells, that we can never broach any topic that might be in the least bit controversial, that we have to keep everybody happy with dumb sermons and even dumber worship services? Dear Lord, I hope not! But it does, I think, mean that we have to hold Christ ever nearer and dearer. So much popular Christianity is, you know, so incredibly superficial. In mass market Christianity, what passes for worship is often just pep rallies for Jesus, which in the short run may make you feel good, but in the long run do very little to heal the deep divisions or address the deep questions that keep pulling us further and further apart.

To be one as the Father and Son are one demands that we know Christ as he knows us: weak and fallen, fatally flawed and often dangerously confused, stuttering and stumbling, trying to make as though we know everything when we hardly even know ourselves. Only as we know Christ graciously accepting us, warts and all, can we ever hope to accept one another; only as we know ourselves as forgiven sinners can we know that oneness, that unity for which the Son pleads to the Father on our behalf. Apart from Christ, all I can do is desperately grasp after some wisps of righteousness to cover my nakedness. But in Christ, I can let go of my illusions of righteousness. I can let go of my frantic efforts to prove myself worthy. I can let go of my stupid attempts to assert myself at another's expense. I can let go of all the fear and hurt and shame I've stored up, and if but for a moment, I can reach out to another human being as some one for whom Christ also died.

I believe in the church, not because it's perfect, or because it's always right, or because it's just one of those things I have to believe because it's in the Apostle's Creed. I believe in the church because, I'm convinced, God believes in the Church. God believes that in, with, and through the only Son Jesus Christ we can join hands and be one people. And with our hands free and unclenched by the grace of Christ, God believes we can join those hands to comfort one another in our grief, to encourage one another in our growth, and to hold one another up in bringing the love of Christ to those who are being stepped on and shoved to the margins of life. God believes that these hands - yours, mine, and ours -- however different and differently abled, can, by holding to Christ, hold on to one another as a sign to the world that humanity can work, that true community is possible, that we can know what the psalmist exclaims, "How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity" (Psalm 131:1).

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.