E daí?

Matthew 5:13-16; Acts 15:36

As many of you know the church and the Laszakovits family are preparing for a time of Sabbath rest.  A year from now, my family and I will be in Brazil studying language, spending time together and learning Brazilian culture.  Here, you will be busy too.  There will be educational events that focus on a theme that we will all share together: rooted and reaching.  Looking at ways that, like a tree, we can root ourselves in God, yet keep reaching out to the world around us.

As you can imagine, we’ve been busy planning for and dreaming about our return.  One of the things we’ve had the most fun with is refreshing our Portuguese and teaching some of it to the kids.  And since it’s so much fun, I thought I’d share some of that fun with you all this morning.  There are some words that are just flat out fun to say.  Ready for your first?  Abacaxi (a-BA-ka-she).  Any guesses what that word means?  Pineapple!  Ready for your next?  Maracujá (ma-ra-koo-ZJA). Jabuticabi (zja-BU-chee-ka-ba)  Passion fruit and Jabuticabi (no translation).

Now those were just warm ups for the phrase of the day: “e daí” And repeat: ee da-EE.  Literally e daí means “and then.” But it is one of those phrases that that can mean slight different things given the context. 

Greeting. You might walk into a room of friends and say “E daí!”  “What’s going on?”

Your point? Another common use of the phrase is a bit more pointed.  It’s like lecturing a teenager about to consume his 6^th slice of pizza.

     --Do you know how many grams of fat and calories you are ingesting?!

     --E daí?  (“and your point is?”)

This gets into the translation that is more like “Who cares?  Big deal.” But the translation of the phrase that I really want to hone in is not quite so rude as that response but more like: “What follows/gives”  “And then…?”  or “So what (now)?” 

This really isn’t about teaching you some Portuguese phrases so much as it is about the fact that—at our best—we are an e daí people.  People who are always seeking to answer e daí…and then?…so what?

As Pam said last week, we’re very comfortable reaching out in acts of service, but less inclined to reach out and offer ourselves as a church community that someone might want to join.  I wonder why?  We might imagine conversations like this with friends and neighbors:

     You: I go to the neatest church.  It’s a really wonderful group of people.  Interesting, diverse, committed, fun, and funny.  I learn a lot by being part.

     Them: E daí? (So what?)

     You:  No, no you don’t understand.  My church isn’t like those crazy ones.  We are willing to look at the Bible and theology with new light and insight.

     Them: E daí?

     You: No, we really think Jesus means something for today, helps our lives now and makes the world a better place.

     --E daí.

The fear of this response coupled with wanting to avoid coming off pushy, arrogant church-folk with all the answers is quite enough for us to swallow our words.

I would imagine that each of us is here because we think that Jesus’ message is important (even life-changing), that being part of this congregation makes us better people, and that together we make the world a better place.  What if that’s what we invited people into?  If we do think we are better people because we come here, and that the world is a better place because this congregation exists…e daí?!  What are we going to do about it?  What if we began with an assessment?

About halfway into the book of Acts, after the apostles had spread the message of Jesus up and down the coast of Israel, into Syria, and modern day Turkey, Paul turns to Barnabas and says, "Let's go back and visit all our friends in each of the towns where we preached the Word of God. Let's see how they're doing."  (Acts 15:36) Sounds like a good-old-fashioned review and evaluation.

Imagine Paul and Barnabas stopping in here and asking how we are doing (“E daí?”)  On one hand they would probably say, “You’re doing great!  You are taking in new members, growing in cooperation and reach, love and service.”  On the other hand they might want to take a look at the books and see what the numbers say.  Here’s what they would find.

Snapshot numbers of Sunday Morning attendance by decade: 1973=494; 1983=437; 1993=333; 2003=267; 2011=259. 

E daí?!  In every 10 year increment we have seen sizable drops in our attendance. 

Now, I know those numbers will rub some of you the wrong way.  You’ll say, “Greg, numbers don’t tell the whole picture!  There is more to our community than numbers.  Besides, most of Christianity has taken it on the chin in the last 40 years.  It’s not our fault!”

I would agree with you.  It’s not all about numbers.  It’s not our fault.  We might well be justified to fall back on that old Brazilian proverb: Cada macaco no seu galho:  Every monkey on its own branch. Meaning, I have my branch, you have yours, and they have theirs.  We should just stay on our own branches and not worry about others.  I don’t know about you, but I’m up for a little bit more than just monkeying around and sticking to my own branch.

At some point numbers do matter, if we think this is a worthwhile endeavor.  I would like to imagine joyful accountability (rather than begrudging, or guilt-laden accountability). What if we read those numbers, celebrated our past, and then decided that we love this community enough that we are willing to be accountable to keeping it alive and vibrant?

Another way to ask the question is this: At what point do we take responsibility for the future of this congregation?  If we feel like the world is a better place because the Elizabethtown Church of the Brethren exists--E daí!--what are we willing to do to make sure it exists?  Are we willing to take some ownership and responsibility for the future of our lives together as a congregation?  To not blame others, society, or bad luck.  But to work to build an ever-stronger, more vibrant community for our sake as well as the sake of the world.

1—We Must Fail, sometimes

On Monday at our Church Board Meeting, we were asked to share some of our hopes and goals for the year ahead.  In addition to the things you might normally expect from the pastoral team to say—things like improving young adult ministry and outreach, facility improvements, planning for Sabbath rest—we threw a wildcard in there.  We proudly responded that one of our goals is to fail once or twice.  To fall on our face.  To bomb. How will we know if we are reaching our potential if we never test our limits?  The same question can apply to us as individuals and as a congregation.

If we are honest with ourselves, one of the reasons that we have been in decline is because we are afraid to fail. 

We don’t invite the neighbor to church because we are afraid they will say no.  We don’t share our stories, as Pam reminded us to do last week, because we are afraid the people who hear it will respond “E daí?  So what?  Who cares?”  We don’t want to hang ourselves out there for failure.

We don’t change the way we do things—even when what we’re doing isn’t working—because the gradual decline is easier than making a change. 

Risk and failure are a part of living - and, almost always part of success.  Living to avoid failure is a sure recipe for failure itself.  How can we take intelligent risks that will better our community and our world? Not so coincidentally, it was also very much a part of Jesus life and ministry as well as the first church.

2--We must Let our Lights shine

In today’s scripture, Jesus tells the crowd gathered for the Sermon on the Mount that they need to be salt and light.  We have played the “Brethren humility” card for far too long as an excuse to stay comfortable, and obscure.  We must be unapologetic in who we are, without taking ourselves too seriously.  Just like a city on a hill cannot be hidden, and you don’t light a lamp then stick it under a bushel basket, we should “let (y)our light shine before others.” (Mt. 5.16)

3—We Must be salty.  

Returning to Brazil one last time.  When Karin and I were there, the national director would often have to answer the question, “Why were these Americans here?”  After all, the Brazilian church had a national leadership structure and plenty of pastors.  His response was to say that we were apimenta, the spice.  We could help flavor the community by sharing what we knew of the church in the US and by simply living together as Brethren.  What may sound silly is not so far off from what Jesus was getting at in the Sermon on the Mount.  We are salt of the earth.  If we lose our flavor, what good are we?  We may as well be thrown out and trampled underfoot.  We must be our flavorful selves - unafraid to share with the world around us.

Pastor: We are people of light.

People: E daí?

Pastor: We are people of salt.

People: E daí?

Pastor: This is a fantastic community of people following Jesus.  We really like one another and would like for others to join us. 

People: E daí?

Pastor: We are people of light, apimentada for the world!