Hilton Head Island, SC – January 5,2025
The Chapel Without Walls
I Corinthians 12:14-27; Ecclesiastes 3:1-9
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. – Ecclesiastes 3:1-2
Saul of Tarsus, also known as the apostle Paul, had an unusual way of thinking and writing. In his first letter to the Corinthians, he called the Church the body of Christ. He reminded his readers that the human body does not have just one member, but many. By “member,” Paul meant what we would call organs or tissues. He wrote, “The body does not consist of one member, but many. If the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I am not a part of the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the eye should say, ‘Because I am not an ear, I am not a part of the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body” (I Cor. 12:14-16) Then, addressing his readers, and via his letter, us as well, Paul said, “For you are the body of Christ, and individually members of it.”
Because of The Chapel Without Walls, I had the opportunity to experience that as I never did in any of the other congregations in which I participated as a child, youth, or member of the clergy. By chance, all but two of the churches in which I was involved were large, some quite large. It is not possible for anyone in a large church to know everyone else. The Chapel started small, and as it turned out, we steadily shrank in our 21 years of existence, to which I will refer later. Chapel members may not really know one another well, but they know where everyone sits, so they know who everyone is. In any case, I have come to know each you more fully than members of any of the other churches in which I was involved. The intimacy of a small congregation is one of its greatest advantages.
On December 19, 1964, I was ordained as a minister of the Presbyterian Church (USA) in the Christ Presbyterian Church in Madison, Wisconsin. On December 19, 2024, I observed the 60th anniversary of my ordination. On January 5, 2004, the Chapel Without Walls held its first service in the Hilton Head Middle School. From that time to this, The Chapel has met for worship in ten different locations on this island, the last one being the Island Funeral Home. Today, January 5, 2025, we are holding our last service forever. All things considered, it seems an especially appropriate location, particularly in the light of the “moribund” nature of this occasion.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” Together, we are participating in a congregational birthday party and the funeral of the same congregation. I say “we” regarding both the birthday and the funeral, because The Chapel Without Walls never could have come into existence without the support of many of the current congregation, plus everybody else who ever attended here in the past. In 21 years of existence, we had well over a hundred members, but because we were always old and got older, we have lost far more members than we have retained. Those who previously attended gave our continuation the old college try to keep us going, but deaths, disabilities, and/or out-of-town moves intervened to thrust us into nonexistence.
I have served as the pastor of four congregations and an associate pastor of one congregation. When today is over, I will have preached five final sermons in each of those churches, but this sermon will have two additional factors: my retirement (at last), and The Chapel’s demise. About the last matter Hamlet might have said, “’Tis a consummation devoutly not to be wished.” I assume you feel that as deeply as I do.
The Protestant denominations that were launched during the Reformation up through the inauguration of Methodism in the mid-18th century are known as “Mainline Protestantism.” Every one of them except the Episcopalians split at the time of the Civil War. Over the last fifty years or so, all of them again endured disruptions over several issues: ordination of women, gay clergy, gay marriage, gay anybody, transgenders, church or secular politics, abortion, and concerns about liberal attitudes regarding social behavior. Many individuals and congregations who were opposed to any of these matters broke away from the historic Mainline denominations to form smaller, more conservative denominations. This happened among Lutherans, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, American Baptists, and Methodists.
The Chapel was too small to survive such upheavals. Everyone who attended here would know that in today’s ecclesiastical lingo we are what now is called progressive and inclusive, but with traditional worship. Churches like this one used to be described simply as “liberal.” I suspect everyone here instinctively knew we were too small to survive a theological brouhaha, so, happily, we never had any. You definitely are the mellowest congregation I ever encountered anywhere in my whole life. If we have major differences of opinion, we are sublimely silent about it.
If this sermon were solely an academic lecture, it might be entitled Apologia Pro Vita Nostra: Explanation for Our Inception. When The Chapel began, I was a month short of my 65th birthday. I assumed because of that, we would likely be comprised mainly of older people. That proved to be correct. However, I failed to anticipate a lethal trend that would occur because of that demographic.
For our first five years we averaged fifty people in attendance each Sunday. For the next five years, there were forty people; for the next five, thirty; for the next five, twenty, and for the past year, our average attendance was in the teens. Over time it became evident why our numbers kept going down. It wasn’t because of dissatisfaction. It was because people kept dying at a higher rate than in a demographically normal congregation. We were relatively old when we began. By now, we are certifiably quasi-ancient as individuals, though certainly not as a congregation. As I said, many moved away to be near to their children and grandchildren, and many are no longer physically able to attend. Therefore I, who was the organizing pastor of this congregation, am now its dis-organizing pastor. Without question, the latter is definitely a dubious distinction. But, as the writer of the very thoughtful and provocative Book of Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for every matter under heaven, and sadly it is evident we must disband.
The Chapel was never intended to be what might be called a “full-service” church with a whole host of various kinds of activities. We offered educational activities, as well as occasional social gatherings, but worship was always our main focus.
The leader of a Jewish synagogue is known as a rabbi. That Hebrew word means “teacher.” As a member of the clergy, I perceive myself to be more of a rabbi than a pastor. And as a minister I also have concentrated more on being a preacher than a pastor. (By now you may have deduced that this sermon is also an Apologia Pro Vita Mea: An Explanation for My Life.) I have always tried to avoid “dumbing down” my sermons. It has been my intention as a preacher to address those in the congregation as adults who are sufficiently educated to understand what I am saying, and that they are willing to cogitate upon it, even if they don’t agree with it. My goal has been to encourage people to think.
I believe that when they preach, God calls the clergy to address social and political issues as well as religious and personal concerns, I am well aware that many church members object when preachers refer to partisan questions, but if we don’t try to express what we believe, politicians will be the ones who try to steer public opinion. When they do that, they may want to benefit their party and its constituents rather than what is best for the whole society.
Many people have asked me what I will do in retirement, now that I no longer will be preaching. For the first two or three months, I very much look forward to doing what I want to do when I want to do it. That opens a whole new chapter in my life. I’m going to continue to read a lot, I will finally begin to write essays again, I will travel, and I will volunteer to raise money for worthy causes. Most of all, I will enjoy not having a Must-Do schedule. My favorite aspect of the ministry was writing sermons - - - not preaching them, but writing them. Toward the end of the past year, though, that became more of a chore and burden than a pleasure and challenge. For that reason, retirement became an obvious necessity. There is a time to keep, and a time to cast away, and I am happily casting away.
As books are written in chapters, so are lives lived in chapters: infancy, childhood, adolescence, and so on. For everyone, adulthood involves chapters regarding family, relationships, career twists and turns, moves, homes, and participation in various churches.
For the clergy, each congregation served produces its own chapter, and each one is distinctive in its own way. For The Chapel Without Walls, that has meant moving into ten different locations, each a chapter unto itself. For me, this pastorate has been not only my longest, but also my most pleasant. You folks have been the very epitome of congeniality. Considering some of the things I have preached, that had to have tested your congeniality. Lois and I have greatly benefitted from the close friendships that have developed here. All of us have been involved in many organizations, but there is something special about a church that cannot be duplicated in any other kind of institution. That is especially true regarding a small church. The opportunity to worship God and Jesus Christ with other like-minded people is a unifying blessing that only an attachment to a church can provide. For all their faults (of which there are at least a few), denominations and congregations are a major source of strength, unity and belonging to those who commit themselves to the worldwide Church of Jesus Christ.
I am truly sorry for your sake that I kept going at least a year too long. But, as I explained on the first Sunday of January last year, there was a particular reason why I started The Chapel in the first place, and I promised you I would continue for another year. Had I known the decline that was coming, I would have hung up my robe back then. (By the way, if visitors are unsure of what I really was saying in any part of this sermon, ask anyone you think will have the answers. If you want, feel free to call me. Just don’t all of you do it today or tomorrow.)
There are forty or fifty churches on Hilton Head Island. I sincerely and strongly encourage you to start looking for one next Sunday. Please don’t take this occasion to bail out because of advanced age or mental, physical, or spiritual exhaustion. Being a member of a church has never saved anyone from eternal damnation. God would never allow anyone to suffer that odious fate, despite what the Bible declares with fearful vigor in many places. Nevertheless, being affiliated with a church has never guaranteed salvation for anyone either. Nevertheless, involvement in a church is a more utilitarian means for most people of staying close to God and Jesus than to try to go it alone. Being spiritually alone creates loneliness; being spiritually united with others creates stronger faith, a more mentally active mind, and a closer relationship with God and with His Messiah, Jesus.
This ecclesiastical birthday is also our institutional funeral. Once again, the wise and also sardonic words of the one identified in the Book of Ecclesiastes as Koheleth, The Preacher: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” May God bless all of us as we traverse the chapters and times we have left. Sola Dei Gloria: To God Alone Be the Glory.