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A Congregation Of The "Never place a period where God has placed a comma." - Gracie Allen |
From November 5, 2006 Paul Mattil. Barbara Kropp. Jacob Karsch. George Rock. Elizabetha Lenhart. William Nagel. These men and women are Christ's saints. Ours, too. With others of like mind and open hearts, they were led by the Spirit to give birth to this church in August 1874. Their efforts were borne of confident hope when Paducah and indeed the whole nation was struggling economically. And yet the financial challenges our saints faced were nothing compared to matters of life and death. A cholera epidemic had begun the summer before and as many as 15 Paducahans a day succumbed to this dread disease. Not long after that another epidemic struck: yellow fever swept up the Mississippi River valley and then up the Ohio, eventually taking more than 100,000 lives. So if we are the church that love built--and indeed we are, we are also the church that faith built. Faith that God would provide, that God would see God's people through hardship and loss. Faith also that a broad assortment of German-rooted believers could worship and serve God in a spirit of unity, even as their theologies differed. Faith that the Spirit would not only lead and prosper this assemblage, but that the Spirit would unify them. That our forebears chose the name "Unity" speaks not only of their collective prayer; it also speaks of the Spirit's will for this church. Even now, one hundred and thirty-some years later, the Spirit continues this important work. Like those saints before us, week by week and year by year we experience God binding us together in Christian love and human affection--despite our diverse backgrounds, religious convictions, and points of view. You and I owe so much to our saints. First gathering in homes for worship, two years later they purchased a former school building on what is now South Third. All for the stunning sum of $2,500. Who gave what exactly? How many contributed? Who stitched the altar cloths? Who saw to the acquiring of hymnals? Who lit the candles on Sunday morning? Who led the choir? Who taught the children? Who swept the walk after fall winds tossed leaves against the doorways? Who provided the meals in times of celebration and of loss? So many gave of their time, talent and treasure. Sadly, too few of our saints are remembered by name. And yet whoever our saints were, however much each one gave, their collective sacrifice is our joy. Well beyond a century later, you and I enjoy the harvest of their sowing. After worshipping together for ten years, those first saints of ours recognized that they had outgrown their remodeled schoolhouse. And so they set about to build a new church. Those with names you and I recognize--Kolb, Katterjohn, and Oehlschlager--and those whose names are less familiar but whose gifts are no less important, came together to find suitable property, an adept architect, and the necessary pledges to begin the project. Two years after moving into their new church on South Fifth, the congregation longed for its own pipe organ. So they pledged the $342 needed to acquire one. Tillie Kolb was the first to climb up onto its bench and play. After Tillie stepped down, her sister Rosa stepped up to give her good gifts. But it was their younger sister, though, whose gifts were especially appreciated. While her sisters' fingers danced on the keys, Elizabeth was the one who worked the manual pump that pushed air into the organ's pipes. How dearly loved they must have been, these sisters whose giving made true worship possible. And how they must have laughed when they heard about Klingelbeutel, an Old Country tradition of receiving the offering that had been abandoned by the time they were born. Ushers would reach down each pew with a long stick--a bag on one end and a bell on the other. The tinkle of the bell ensured that no one, not even the one who had dozed off, was deprived of the chance to give. Our Klingelbeutels are long gone. So is the pipe organ, as is the rather grand one that replaced it. Gone too are the pews and the pulpit and even the magnificent church building that stood so proudly on South Fifth. When our saints gathered in 1961 to worship together one last time before moving into their new home here on Buckner, Pastor Lehman began his sermon with these words: "If walls and wood, windows and furnishings could speak, they would have a tale to tell... for they have witnessed much throughout the years." Pastor Lehman went on to speak of the nearly ninety years of hardships and high moments the pulpit had seen, the steady stream of fathers and mothers who had come forward all those years so that their children might be baptized with water held holy in the silver bowl set at the front, the very same bowl from which they had received the waters of baptism when they were young. Pointing to the walls and windows, Pastor Lehman imagined what they had been witness to: couples coming to the chancel to be united in holy matrimony; families and friends with heavy hearts finding sanctuary as they gathered to hear a word of hope in times of loss. For nearly ninety years, their loving pastor reminded them, heads had bowed in reverent prayer, voices had lifted in happy song, faith had been born and nurtured in pews that would soon be left behind. Only a few things survive from those early days. Our precious handcrafted altar, used in worship now on special occasions, artfully created by cabinet maker and first church treasurer, Paul Mattil. The original communion set with its distinctive flagon we are still privileged to use the first Sunday of each month. Another gift from those former days appears from time to time on our communion table; it is an altar bible written in German, our language of worship for as many as 30 years. And yet our heritage as a church, our wealth as a congregation is found neither in wood nor silver, neither in print nor in faded photographs. Beyond our solid building and our strong past, the greatest gift we have been given is a way of life. Our saints have shown us a way to live. A way of seeing God at work in the present so that the future might be born, a way of courageous proceeding rather than fearful clinging. They have left us with a way of relating with one another that does not insist on sameness but which nurtures a spirit of unity. They have modeled a way of willing sacrifice and focused perseverance so that God's will might be done in and through this gathered body. Our saints have blessed us in one very distinct way, as well. The faithful and forward-looking have left us not only with a rich spiritual inheritance, they have also left us with the financial means to help carry us into the future God into which God is calling us. How many congregations around this country are gone altogether because they did not have the gift of endowment funds to supplement their annual budgets, as we do? How many communities of faith have fallen into anxious days and tense times because they lack what we have been blessed with: generous underwriting from those whose giving years ago enables us to enjoy a way of community life we are not yet able to fully provide for ourselves. So many have gone before us, sowing God's seeds on our behalf. So many have given of their time, their talents, their treasure, and perhaps even their tears. Mindful of God's blessing in their lives, countless saints elected to bless this church--richly, and in every conceivable way. Surely our saints knew what the apostle Paul knew. To the church in Corinth, he wrote ...God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. Our saints have left us with so much. A way of life made possible by their bountiful sowing. A way of life that allows us to build on their firm foundation. A way of life that we, in this season of stewardship, are invited to emulate. A way of life that honors the past and carries us into God's future. A future we trust, as our saints did, because--like them--our hearts are full of God. Amen. ©
Rev. Karen Winkel I am grateful for the story of this church told in "Out of the Past, Into the Future,” published in 1974 on the occasion of our 100th anniversary. This sermon relies heavily on that publication. |
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