I begin with a question. It's something certainly everyone should know. What is this piece of furniture called? It’s right here front and center. It is just a piece of furniture, but its size and placement make it clear that it is a very significant piece of furniture for us here in church. Most of you, I expect, think of this as the altar. And it is. This is not a trick question. It is the altar. But here is a trickier question: Does it have legs? You can’t see because the frontal hangs to the floor.

Does it have legs? In some places, in some times within the life and history of the Episcopal Church, that has been a very significant question. And although it is 100% appropriate to call this piece of furniture the altar, some people in some places in some times within the Episcopal Church would adamantly oppose such a designation. In its purest form, an altar is made of stone and has a solid front without legs. A Holy Table, on the other hand, is made of wood and most definitely has legs. Some Episcopalians believe that Episcopal churches should contain altars. Others believe that Episcopal churches should contain Holy Tables.

This is just the sort of debate that Paul was contending with in his words to the Christians in Rome that we heard this morning. He is refereeing a dispute (several disputes, actually). On one side are people who feel that the Sabbath day should be set apart, more highly esteemed, more holy, than other days. These were probably Christians strongly influenced by Jewish practice. On the other side were people who felt that all days were equally worthy of esteem, equally holy before God.

A similar dispute arose over the eating of meat, especially since much of the meat available in the markets had initially been slaughtered for heathen sacrifices. On the one side of this dispute were those who abstained, again probably influenced by Jewish teaching on ritual purity and customs regarding the slaughtering of meat. On the other side were those who felt these issues were irrelevant to Christianity and chose to eat meat.

It may not be a matter of deep concern to you whether this item of furniture is called an altar or a holy table. But for some Episcopalians those words are powerful symbols of our history and our theology. People who adamantly name this an altar see this as a piece of furniture set apart for God, more highly esteemed, more holy than most mere furniture. They draw deeply upon our pre-Reformation roots in Roman Catholicism and cherish the mystery of the sacrament made real at this altar.

On the other hand are people who point out that the historic Last Supper in the upper room with Jesus and his disciples took place at a table. Yes, the Lord’s Table, but still just a simple, wooden table. For these people altars are a quirk of Roman Catholic piety that also carry unfortunate connotations of blood sacrifice. They point out that since the reformation, Protestants (and we are Protestant) have gathered for the Lord’s Supper around the Lord’s Table.

Paul has something to say in the midst of these disputes and any others like them. First he says, it is not so much what you do (or what you call something) that is important, it’s why you do it that matters. "Let all be fully convinced in their own minds." Search the motivations of your own conscience.  It does not matter what you do, if it is being done in honor of the Lord. Paul repeats those words over and over again.  Paul would have little sympathy with those people who observe the rituals of the Sabbath simply out of historical habit or for the sake of the rituals themselves. Nor would Paul tolerate people who ignore the Sabbath out of indifference or busyness, losing the singularity of the Sabbath in a sea of secularism. For Paul the faithful conviction of an individual’s conscience to honor the Lord is what really matters. It is good to set this Sabbath day apart from other days, if you do so in honor of the Lord. Do not do it out of a sense of obligation or tradition or superstition. Honor this day to honor the Lord. If, on the other hand, in the conviction of your conscience, you do not see the Sabbath as especially holy because you see all days as holy, that is good, too. Then, keep all days alike, holy in honor of the Lord.

Paul, the referee, tells the Christians in Rome to search out and be true to their own consciences. To seek in everything they do to honor the Lord and, implicitly, not to worry too much about what others may be doing or not doing.

Paul, the theologian, however, does seem to show a preference for one side of these disputes, especially if you read all of Romans. One the issue of days, for example, Paul’s sympathies seem to lie with those who esteem all days alike. This is an important perspective for us, as Christians today, to hear. Again and again we hear that Sunday is the Lord’s Day. Sunday is the day on which we worship. This place, this time, this day are set apart as holy. This is a singular and special time, different from the ordinary days and times of our lives. Paul and the New Testament, however, see much greater uniformity in the Christian life. Uniformity. Less distinction between holy days and other days. But this uniformity comes by making all days holy. When all our lives are entirely lived in the presence of God, no time will be more sacred than others, because all alike will be dedicated to God’s glory. The present tendency in our culture is to make all days common: Christians then struggle heroically to maintain islands of sanctity in this secular sea. The New Testament, though, promotes an even higher calling, hallowing everything by lifting it into God’s presence and keeping it there.

The same principle applies with holy tables or sacred altars. The sacred and the secular are not separate. The common and the divine are not distinct. To call this an altar might suggest that, as a piece of furniture, it is uniquely and exclusively holy. But it does not demean this altar to say that other tables may be holy, too. Think about how you, in your own life, might raise the tables of your daily bread to holiness. Honor God in your meals. Thank God for your daily bread. Share your common meals in Christian fellowship. In these Eucharistic, sacramental activities, your dinner table, even your kitchen table, can be God’s holy altar.

In the conclusion of this morning’s reading Paul takes this theological reasoning one step further to its ultimate conclusion. Some of these lines of Paul’s to the Romans have a powerful association for me (and probably for most clergy). They bring to mind a great array of faces I have known stretching back through the years of my ministry. Listen to them in the old language. "For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For if we live, we live unto the Lord; and if we die, we die unto the Lord. Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s." I have not kept a running tally of how many burials I have performed, but it’s somewhere around 100. Each one has begun with these words; they are part of the opening acclamations in the Prayer Book burial service. And they remind us that no part of our lives is set apart as more holy than any other part. And no part is less holy. There is no time in life, or death, when we are not the Lord’s. There is no time in life or in death when we are not fully the Lord’s. Thanks be to God.

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