June 1, 2025

"Very wet and soggy in spite of all of my rain gear," the speaker began, recounting a Wednesday evening arrival at the Egg Garvey Shelter on South Mountain Ridge. This marked six miles into a through-hike of the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail, overlooking Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Being completely soaked, despite precautions, led to profound questions about the purpose of the journey.

The Appalachian Trail itself, conceived and constructed over the first few decades of the 20th century, has never sustained a unified vision. Even before its development, competing motivations existed, from the "Christian higher life principles" advocating for "Teddy Roosevelt manliness and outdoor vigor," to "utopian aspirations of back to the land agrarian revolutions" envisioning interconnected communities of cooperative farms. Once established, debates continued to rage over what truly constituted "being on the trail or completing it," questioning if sectional hikes counted, or if assistance along the way invalidated the accomplishment.

The speaker typically avoids these heated discussions by hiking in the off-season. However, a recent trip coincided with the first wave of through-hikers journeying from Georgia to Maine, prompting questions about how they would be received. Over 45 hours on the trail, the speaker's self-consciousness quickly faded, replaced by a realization of the myriad ways people have always and will always use the trail.

That first night, J.R., a young licensed social worker from Philadelphia, arrived at the shelter. He was undertaking the same Maryland section hike as the speaker, but as an out-and-back journey. The next day, Kevin, a retired man in his 70s also from the Philadelphia area, was met. Kevin was hiking a significant portion of the trail, specifically Maryland and Pennsylvania, with his wife's unique support: she'd drop him off daily to hike while she went antiquing and exploring the area, picking him up in the evening for a B&B stay. On the final morning, Bart from the Netherlands was encountered—a true through-hiker who started in Georgia in early March. Bart was making the most of his journey by taking excursions to major East Coast cities like Washington D.C. and New York City.

These encounters highlighted a profound truth for the speaker: "all of these people all have their own authentic and valued way of using the Appalachian Trail."

This understanding of the trail serves as a beautiful physical example of the "final portion of Jesus' high priestly prayer" from John's Gospel, chapter 17. This prayer, delivered before the crucifixion, reflects a core Johannine theme: "unity in the midst of diversity." The speaker emphasizes that in a world grappling with "volatility" and the impulse to "dictate homogeneity," the greatest gift of Christian witness is the ability to "all be one, even in the midst of our uniquenesses and diversities." Just as there's "no one right way to be on" the Appalachian Trail, there's "no one right way to be a part of the Christian journey" or to live one's faith. Yet, within this multiplicity, a commonality and unity exist in "the singularity of our God."

The speaker draws on the image of Paul's "witness from prison" in the Book of Acts, illustrating how one can testify to God's beauty and glory not by escaping difficult circumstances, but by remaining within them and speaking to the sustaining presence of God. While diversity is often mistakenly seen as a source of division, the speaker argues that it is precisely "diversity that speaks to the heart of who we are as a community of faith." God is both singular and multiple, individual and community, embodying a "multiplicity in the Godhead" while maintaining a "single unity." This, the speaker asserts, is the "great witness and beauty of the truth of our faith that we have to share with the world around us."

Looking to the future of their church, St. Anne's, the speaker anticipates that discerning their path forward will not yield a singular answer, but a "multiplicity of answers." This reflects the many ways people find belonging, community, and sustenance within their faith. This isn't a new narrative for St. Anne's; from its inception, people have found a home and sense of belonging for diverse reasons.

The speaker acknowledges that this next phase might introduce "new people with new perspectives, new ideas, new ways of being the church that disrupt our usual day to day business." However, this disruption is viewed as "a good and holy work" and a "good and holy witness," an opportunity to expand and be "pulled in new and life giving ways." This expansion, the speaker concludes, is a chance to witness "unity... even in that midst of diversity."

The sermon culminates with a call to embrace the prayer that "we may all be one," just as Christ and the Father are one, and as believers are together in love, even while celebrating their "varied and various differences." The speaker highlights the unique position of this particular Sunday, falling between the Ascension and Pentecost, as a period of "anticipatory waiting" for the descent of the Holy Spirit. This waiting, the speaker notes, is reflective of the church's entire life—a discernment and prayerful anticipation of Christ's second coming. It is often during these periods of sustained waiting that diversities can become a source of contention. Yet, the resounding call is to "embrace unity even in the midst of that diversity," allowing differences to bring people closer, "ever more fully into the glory and the love and the light of our life-giving God."

"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."