Let Us See the Statue Inside the Marble

Hebrews 11:1-16

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Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.  For by it the elders obtained a good report.  Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.  By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts: and by it he being dead yet speaketh.  By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had translated him: for before his translation he had this testimony, that he pleased God.  But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.  By faith Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house; by the which he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith.   By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise:  For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.  Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised.  Therefore sprang there even of one, and him as good as dead, so many as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable.  These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.  For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country.  And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned.  But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.

Michelangelo was perhaps the greatest sculptor the world has ever known.  His “David” and “Pieta” continue to inspire millions even today.  He is reputed to have said that “every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

In today’s Epistle, we hear that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”  We are called, as Christians, to see not merely with our outward eyes, but to see with the eyes of faith.  Where others may see only a rough block of stone, we are called to see a beautiful statue waiting to be set free. 

We live in a world filled with evil – war, poverty, violence, discrimination.  Pick up a newspaper any day, and you will read many terrible things.  But by faith, we are called to see a world created by God – a world in which God’s peace and justice reign.  We are called to see in each human being not only the sinner, but a creature of God, with the potential to lead a holy life and to do great things.

It’s hard to see with that faith – and I would suggest that even if we can’t see the statue inside the block of stone, that we trust that God can see what we cannot.  In time, we can trust that God will open our eyes so that we, too, can see the magnificent work of art.

But it is not enough to see with faith, or trust that God can – we are called to act on our faith, and take up hammer and chisel to start revealing the statue trapped in the marble – even if we cannot yet see it ourselves.

Abraham was called to journey to the Promised Land from the city he lived in, and did so without having seen it.  Even when he arrived, he lived in tents and did not see the promise fully revealed.

God calls us to see the statue trapped in the big, ugly rock – but God also calls us to be a co-creator by putting our faith into action.  We are called to work for a more just world – working to end injustice, working for the recognition of the dignity of every human being, working to bring healing to the sick, comfort to prisoners, justice to the oppressed.

But is it not enough to see with the eyes of faith, and to take up chisel and hammer to act on our faith – we are also called to persevere in our faith, even when we cannot see the results.

As it says in our Epistle, “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.”  So we, too, are called to persevere in our service to God and humankind, even though the full reign of God’s peace and justice is not likely to come to fruition in our lifetime.  Just as we are called to set out in our journey of faith when we cannot see the statue in the marble, so we are called to continue our faith in God even if we cannot see the statue emerge as a result of our labors.  We trust that God will take our efforts, and those of others called by God, some perhaps not even born, and use them to bring forth a statue even more magnificent than anything created by Michelangelo.

It is easy to become weary – to find it difficult to keep our faith and hope alive as we work to spread the Gospel.  But we are called to persevere.  Even when we find it hardest to trust, God is working to release the statue from the stone.

So let us see with the eyes of faith.  Let us take up chisel and hammer, and act on that faith.  And let us persevere in serving God, confident that one day we will reach that heavenly city prepared for all of God’s people, and behold the beautiful works God has brought forth from the rock.  Amen.

The bishop of Rome and the Gays

I try not to comment on the internal affairs of other denominations, but given the widespread confusion over the recent remarks of Francis, the bishop of Rome, on gay priests, I think it would be good to offer a reality check. He is talking about refraining from judgment of homosexual priests who have repented of the "sin" of gay sexuality and agreed to be celibate. He is not addressing openly gay people, including married same-sex couples. Just a few weeks ago, in France, he condemned the French legislators for passing same-sex marriage. The American bishops of his denomination are stridently opposing same-sex civil marriage in this country.

What members of the Roman Catholic denomination believe and practice in their own houses of worship is up to them, just as the Independent Catholic Christian Church to which I belong does offer marriage to all committed couples making a life-long covenant, regardless of the sex and gender makeup of the couple (and refuses to be in communion with churches that do otherwise, or that withhold ordination from women or lgbt Christians). But when they actively try to deny MY church, and the many other Christian churches and other faith communities who practice same-sex marriage, the right to practice our religion, with our marriages denied recognition by the state, as both bishop Francis and the bishops that answer to him have done, he has become an enemy of freedom of conscience.

MY REVIEW OF "SOUTHERN BAPTIST SISSIES"

As the son of a Southern Baptist minister, I looked forward to seeing the movie “Southern Baptist Sissies”, based on the play by Del Shores, at this year’s Q-Fest, Philadelphia’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender film festival.  Mr. Shores was on hand afterward, as was the star, for a question and answer session.  While many in the audience seemed to love the movie, I found myself left unsatisfied and empty by the film.

Del Shores, like me, is the son of a Southern Baptist minister.  He has done a reasonably decent job of communicating many aspects of the Southern Baptist experience, in particular the single-minded focus most have on whether or not someone is “saved”, since one’s eternal destiny is based on whether or not one has had this emotional experience of conversion, and the opposition to homosexuality (although in my experience, it is even more rabid than he portrays).  The discussion the star has with his mother upon discovering his favorite teacher is Jewish, and therefore bound for hell since she has not accepted Jesus as her “personal Lord and Savior”, despite being a nice, good person, since being nice or good is unrelated to salvation in the Southern Baptist theology, was a very good window into this doctrine and how it plays out in the lives of Southern Baptists.  The music was for the most part well-done – I found myself singing along to many of the hymns.  And the quoting of scripture, with chapter and verse, was certainly something all Southern Baptists and former Southern Baptists can relate to.

The play is really two plays – one about four gay young men who grow up in a Southern Baptist church, and the other about two aging ex-Southern Baptist alcoholics who become drinking buddies in a gay bar, one a gay man and one the sister of a gay man.  Apart from sharing a pianist, who seems to double as the pianist in the bar and in the local Southern Baptist congregation, and a couple of tangential connections to the young men which seem forced to me, the two plays have little in common other than an attempt to comment on the damage that the Southern Baptist religion wreaks on people.  The alcoholics, played brilliantly by Leslie Jordan and Dale Dickey, were complex, layered individuals, with much witty dialogue, as well as much depth of insight.  Most of the best lines in the play were spoken by one of these characters. 

But the two plays, although meant to work together, didn’t.  The film was too long as a result.  And I’m sure the bar scenes were meant to illumine the scenes focused on the church, but the only illumination I experienced was a spotlight on the cardboard clichés that were the four boys and others in the Baptist congregation.  And I was particularly troubled by two aspects of the play.

First, one major doctrinal difference between Southern Baptists on the one hand and Roman Catholics and Mormons on the other is that, while the latter two denominations each hold themselves out to be the “One True Church”, outside of which there can be no real hope of salvation (I realize Roman Catholics have softened this doctrine in recent decades, but only for those who have never been RC), the Southern Baptists, while emphasizing the necessity of church, nonetheless do not regard themselves as the “One True Church”.  The preacher and the church are not infallible – it is the Bible which is infallible for Southern Baptists, and leaving a church that is insufficiently “biblical” for one that is more so is a time-honored tradition.  So while it is very difficult for Roman Catholics or Mormons to find a new church, even while abandoning their old one, because of their deeply held belief that theirs is the only one, many gay Southern Baptists find their way to Episcopal churches, or the MCC, or other more progressive churches.  Shores’ failure to explore the quite common phenomenon of people finding ways of reconciling their sexuality and their Christian faith distorts the gay Southern Baptist experience.

More deeply troubling was the suicide.  Andrew is shown as always feeling alone and unloved, but when he commits suicide, he finally finds peace in the arms of a lover who is revealed to be God.  I worry that this, however unintentionally, glorifies suicide, particularly when compared with the bleak lives of the other characters.  That is NOT a message we want to communicate at all.

None of the other gay men in the play end up with a male partner, or even, seemingly, a circle of close friends, but are all alone and leading broken lives.  One marries a woman and is filled with rage as an “ex-gay” preacher.  Another is the aging, sad alcoholic from the bar (played by Leslie Jordan), who tells Andrew, in the only interaction between the bar play and the church play, not to become like him on the very night Andre kills himself.  There is the sad pianist, almost completely silent, except for a couple of throwaway lines put in for comic relief.  There is the vapid and shallow drag queen (played very well by RuPaul Drag Race veteran Willem, but with the character bearing no resemblance to the strong and powerful RuPaul, who would have lovingly but firmly snapped Andrew into shape as a proud gay man).  And finally, there is the star, whose rage prevents him from creating a life for himself, only imagining a different world.  He does in the end find a vague love-based spirituality (unsurprisingly, the agnosticShores, in the Q&A session, holds this up as “spirituality” vs. “religion”).  While the last hymn and his spiritual awakening are meant to communicate hope and acceptance, there is no actualization of that hope in his real life, only in his imagination, and so it rang quite hollow for me.

And so rather than finding the message of the play to be one of hope, I found it to be bleak, and tragic, and sad.  And while my childhood was indeed bleak, tragic, and sad, in large part due to the Southern Baptist religions, my life got considerably better once I left, and I worry that that message is absent from this film.

Looking Evil in the Eye: Sermon Preached at the Ordination of Br. Shane Neese, AIHM, to the Order of Exorcist, August 11, 2012

Luke 7:11-17 (Gospel for the Feast of St. Monica, observed on the Saturday of the annual retreat of the Order of Augustinians of the Immaculate Heart of Mary)

And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people.  Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.  And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.  And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.  And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.  And there came a fear on all: and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people.  And this rumour of him went forth throughout all Judaea, and throughout all the region round about.

A few years ago, when I went to visit my parents at their home in Missouri, I stopped to visit a friend from divinity school who is also a veterinarian.  She was teaching in a college, as were her two housemates, and the two housemates had a dog.  I went for a walk with one of the housemates and the dog, and the dog misbehaved very badly, and both she and I ended up tangled in the dog’s leash as the dog kept running and jumping, blissfully ignoring her owner’s commands.  The next day, my friend the veterinarian and I went for a walk with the dog.  The dog began to misbehave, and my friend shouted “No” very authoritatively, while yanking on the leash so that the dog went up in midair and yelped.  The dog was quite well-behaved after that.

At the end of the visit, my friend dropped the dog off at another professor’s house, and the dog visited with the two resident dogs as we waited for the professor to arrive home.  While we sat on his porch, a very bold cat (surely not related to my easily-frightened tabby cat Allie) walked up, and my friend’s housemate’s dog started barking at the cat, clearly relishing the prospect of frightening it away.  But the cat did not react in any way, and kept walking toward us.  The dog’s barking became increasingly upset and unhinged, and finally, as the cat approached, the dog rolled over and began whining, beaten into submission by the cat’s confidence and self-assurance.

In today’s Gospel, something very similar happens.  Jesus meets a funeral procession, in which a young man has died at an early age, and he doesn’t flinch.  He looks death, mourning, and loss straight in the eye – and he overcomes it.  He does not ignore it, he does not let himself be overcome by it – rather, he confronts it, and he is able to raise the young man to new life.

All of us will face sin, evil, sickness, death, mourning, and other things that are not the will of God in our lives.  Some of these will be within ourselves – our own sinfulness, our own weakness, our own failure to do the will of God.  Some of them will be due to external causes – sickness, mortality – our own and those of our loved ones – natural disaster, the sins of others.  But in all of these situations, we are called to be more than conquerors through our Lord Jesus Christ – who enables us to look these situations in the eye without flinching, because we know that Christ has won the victory over them, even if we cannot see it at the present time.  We do not deny their reality – we are broken people who live in a broken world, and only by recognizing the brokenness, can we open ourselves up to healing.  But neither do we flinch from confronting it, because Christ is greater than the brokenness.

Brother Shane Neese was just ordained an exorcist.  If the need to look evil in the eye without flinching is a necessary task for every Christian, it is even more so for the priest.  A priest must be able to see the brokenness in his or her congregants’ lives, and help those who are overcome by sin, or sickness, or grief, to look to Jesus and be healed.  If the priest cannot do that in his or her own life, how will the priest be able to help others to do so?  If a priest cannot look the evil that crucified Christ in the eye and know that the risen Christ will overcome it, then how is the priest to offer the Eucharist?

Mother Sandra Hutchinson, when preparing for her own ordination as an exorcist, said it very well:  “Of all the minor orders, this is the one that intimidates me the most.  Evil is real, and this is a direct challenge to it.  But God is real too, I know that.  And I’m looking forward to it as well.”

Shane, as you take on this ministry of exorcist in your journey to the priesthood, it is my prayer that, like Jesus, you will be able to look evil in the eye, not flinch, and know the power of Christ over sin, evil, and death.  Amen.

Being Rooted and Grounded in Love

Ephesians 3:14-21

For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner being; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.

Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.

Many churches have a tabernacle, where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved.  It is kept for priests and others to take Communion to the sick, as well as serving as a focus for devotions to Jesus present in the Blessed Sacrament.  Since we in the Independent Sacramental Movement do not, for the most part, have church buildings of our own, many of us reserve the Sacrament in our own homes, so that we may experience the sacramental presence of Christ, as well as that those of us who are not ordained can receive Communion daily.

In a very real sense, all of us are called to be tabernacles once we have received Communion.  The act of receiving Communion should not be thought of as something that happens for a few minutes on Sunday, or even daily, but rather, having received Communion, we should so live our lives that we serve as tabernacles in the world, so that others may see Christ in us.

As Christ takes up residence in our hearts, Christ’s presence transforms us.  This marvelous passage from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians gives us a good look into that process. 

We were given the Holy Spirit in baptism, and Paul prays that our inner beings may be strengthened by might by the Spirit.  And Christ takes up his dwelling in our hearts when we receive by faith in the Eucharist.

Through the power of the Spirit, and by the indwelling of Christ, we are then “rooted and grounded in love”.  We cannot hope to have any lasting fruits of our faith if we are not deeply rooted and grounded.  Too many Christians go about, their actions goofy and ungrounded, because they have not taken the time to pray, the time to be still and know that God is God, the time to allow the love of God root them and ground them.  It is only as we experience this rooting and grounding in love that our actions can begin to blossom forth, and bear witness to the love of God for a sinful and suffering world.

As we allow Christ within us to root us and ground us, we find that our understanding of things will change – we will begin to comprehend what is the breadth and length and depth and height – we will begin to transcend our own selfish understandings of things and our own preoccupation with our own problems, and begin to have a love for all of God’s creation, and an understanding of both its need for redemption, and the love and power to redeem it God has given through Christ – and also understanding that because we are the body of Christ on earth today, and that through the power of Christ and the power of the Spirit, we will be able to bring that love to those who need it.  We will understand that the homeless person – the working poor – the immigrant whose religion, language, and culture are different from ours – the people whose sex, gender, and sexuality differs from ours, and whose families differ from ours – are created in the image of God, and that we are called to work for justice for them.  And this understanding cannot come to us by ourselves; no, we understand this “with the saints” – with each other, in the community of the church.

And when we are rooted and grounded in love, by the Christ within, and understand the need of the world for God’s love, and God’s love for the world through Christ, and our call to bring that love of Christ to the world, together with one another – then we will be filled with the fullness of God – our understanding of the empowerment through Christ will begin to manifest itself in our lives, in works of charity – in reconciled and reconciling communities – in all of our actions.

This transformation begins in worship – in the passage, Paul talks about bowing his knees to the Father – and our transformation is begun in our baptism, and continued in prayer, scripture, and sharing in the Eucharist in our worshipping community – and it is only appropriate that as we are transformed and sent out to do God’s work in the world, so we are drawn back to worship, in that wonderful doxology:  Now unto the One that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto that One be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.

(Preached at St. Mary of Grace parish, Media, PA, July 29, 2012)

Welcoming All Baptized Christians to Communion

A friend of mine posed the following query: What do you think about open communion for all baptized Christians, regardless of their belief in the Real Presence?

Here is my answer:

The ICCC policy has always been open communion for all baptized Christians, regardless of their views on the Real Presence. We believe very strongly in the Real Presence, the doctrine that the bread and wine, once consecrated in the Eucharist, become the Body and Blood of Christ. But I think believing fervently in transubstantiation while living a sinful life is far worse than living a godly life and receiving, even though one sincerely holds a memorialist view (the view that they only represent the Body and Blood of Christ, rather than becoming them) -- I think it's the welcoming of Christ into one's life through the Eucharist that is important, rather than having the exactly correct view of how it happens.

To use an imperfect analogy -- much better to think flipping a light switch causes a light to turn on because there are monkeys in the walls who are riding bicycles to generate electricity, but be current on one's electric bill, than to completely understand how electricity works but refuse to pay the bill.

Welcoming a New Blog to the ISM Blogosphere

There is a rabbinic understanding of heaven as being a yeshiva where rabbis will learn Torah and argue over the intricate points of the law throughout eternity.  

A little over twenty years ago, when I was a second-year student in divinity school, I walked into the registrar's office and introduced myself to a young first-year student.  It turned out that we were both, at the time, Episcopalian, and I remember that he told me that in Arkansas, where he was from, when they got rid of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, "they got off their knees and got their guns", and thus began a friendship that has lasted ever since, albeit with times of more and less contact.  Both of us later made our way in the Roman obedience, each trying religious life (oddly enough, with a mutual classmate, even though ten years separated our experiments, and the sketchy mutual classmate had undergone a name change in the mean time).  Both of us have now made it into the Independent Sacramental Movement, and last weekend, it was my great privilege to share in the laying on of hands as he joined the clergy of our movement, as a priest and then as a bishop.  Throughout our friendship, we have discussed many aspects of our Christian faith, often arguing over the intricate points, even as we share a love of Christ, and I have the blessed hope that we will continue arguing together in heaven in the next life, much as the rabbis pictured heaven.

He now has a blog (he has had well-read blogs before, being an excellent and entertaining writer), and I commend it to you:  saintrafe.blogspot.com.  I'm sure there will be posts with which I agree and posts with which I disagree.  He did the great favor of quoting me in one of the posts, and he is egging me on to do more posting of my own.  Please check it out.

Sermon for the Feast of the Circumcision of Our Lord

And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the child, his name was called JESUS, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb. --Luke 2:21

Today is traditionally celebrated as the Feast of the Circumcision. Under Jewish law, baby boys are circumcised on the eighth day, so if Christmas is celebrated as the birth of Jesus as a Jewish boy, then today is the celebration of his circumcision.

The liturgical changes in the 1960’s and 1970’s led to this feast being known under different names. The church in Rome in the early centuries celebrated the octave day of Christmas as a feast in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary, recognizing her role in the Incarnation, and traces of this persisted in the liturgical texts for the Feast of the Circumcision down through the centuries. So the Roman Catholic calendar renamed the feast the “Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God”. Episcopalians and Lutherans renamed the feast the “Feast of the Holy Name”, recognizing that it was on this occasion that the name Jesus was given to the newborn infant. However, the gospel read on this day continues to be the account of the circumcision, and I believe we have much to learn from considering its significance.

In Genesis, we read that God commanded Abraham to be circumcised, with all the males of his household, and to circumcise the boys on the eighth day from that point forward. It quotes God as saying “[M]y covenant shall be in your flesh for an everlasting covenant” (Genesis 17:13). The Hebrew word “bris”, or “b’rit”, as it is pronounced in Israel, which is the common Jewish term referring to circumcision, literally means “covenant”. The circumcision is a very visible reminder in the flesh of a Jewish man of the covenant God made with the Jewish people, promising certain things to them in return for obeying God’s commandments.

This sign of the covenant is so serious and important that, despite the fact that it would normally fall under the category of prohibited activities on the Sabbath, it is not only permitted but required to be done if the eighth day is a Sabbath. The account in Genesis states that anyone not circumcised is “cut off” from his people for violating the covenant.

What is a covenant? A covenant is a solemn agreement between two parties, with each promising to do something for the other. God promises, in the covenant of circumcision, to be the guardian and keeper of the Jewish people, while the people promise to follow God’s commandments and to be a holy people.

It was necessary for Jesus to enter into this covenant as the one inaugurating the New Covenant, which would bring Gentiles into covenant with God as well. We as Christians believe that through baptism, we are brought into covenant with God. God promises to give us eternal life, in return for our promise to renounce sin and all the forces of evil, and to accept Christ as our Lord and Savior, living a new life in, through, and for him.

We often hear that the gift of new life in Christ is a “free gift” – and in one sense, it is true. We are given this new life without our having done anything to deserve it. It is a free gift of grace.

But in another sense, it is not free – in return for this “free gift”, we agree to be completely transformed in Christ, and to give our whole lives over to him.

The covenant in the Old Testament involved many sacrifices. Clearly, circumcision involves a sacrifice of flesh and blood. Many other parts of the covenant were sealed with animal sacrifice. On Candlemas, which we celebrate on February 2, we celebrate the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, with a sacrifice of two turtledoves, in accordance with the commandment in the Torah.

And much of our faith as Christians revolves around the doctrine that Christ sacrificed his life for us on the cross, and there is a long tradition of thinking about the precious blood of Jesus, and its cleansing power in our lives. There are many hymns written about it, such as “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood” and “There is Power in the Blood”, but even many more traditional hymns, such as “The Church’s One Foundation”, make reference to it, saying of the church that “with his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died”. There is even a devotion to the seven sheddings of blood of our Lord, of which the Circumcision is the first.

In our day, many are uncomfortable talking about the place of blood and sacrifice in our faith, and it is certainly outside the scope of this sermon to examine all of the theories of the Atonement. However, it is significant to note that just as circumcision involves the shedding of blood in bringing someone new into God’s covenant with the Jewish people, so baptism is the symbolic death and resurrection of the new Christian into Christ’s death and resurrection.

This is a very important beginning in our new life with Christ. The deepest relationships we have are with those with whom we have gone through suffering of some kind. Put another way, if you haven’t shed blood, sweat, and tears in your spiritual journey, you haven’t gotten anywhere. Being a Christian involves putting our whole being – our blood, our sweat, our tears – as well as our joys, our laughter, our happiness – into our walk with Christ.

As we celebrate the beginning of a new secular year, in commemorating the Circumcision of our Lord, may we resolve to make this a year in which we give our all to Christ, knowing that we will receive so much more in return.

Entering the Promised Land: A Sermon on Joshua 3:7-17

Many years ago, when I lived in Atlanta, I would occasionally attend Shabbat services at Congregation Bet Haverim, the glbt synagogue affiliated with the Reconstructionist movement. They met in the parish hall of an Episcopal church that I attended for two years. One Friday night, I had the great privilege of being present for the dedication of their Torah scroll. The student rabbi leading services, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum, later became the rabbi of Congregation Bet Simchat Torah, the glbt synagogue in New York City. She had us put our chairs in two long rows facing each other, and hold out our hands, and unrolled the Torah scrolls on our outstretched arms. She made a joke about no one getting out the correction fluid for the “clobber passage” on homosexuality. The passage in front of me was the one giving the laws of Yom Kippur.

The sermon she preached that night was one of the best and most memorable sermons I’ve ever heard. She mentioned that, while most of the Torah dealt with the journey of the Israelites toward the Promised Land, they never reached it within the Five Books. Even Moses, the greatest prophet of the Jewish people, was not allowed to enter, but had to see it from afar before dying and being buried. She compared that to our spiritual lives, during which we are always “on the way” toward the fullness of the presence of God, and of living in perfect harmony with our neighbors – yet we never reach that destination in this life, although it is to be hoped that we are moving closer to that destination.

I believe that this insight is valid for us as Christians as well. We will never reach the place where we are constantly “practicing the presence of God”, to use the phrase used by the Carmelite lay brother and spiritual master Brother Lawrence, who famously said that he was as conscious of the presence of God while washing dishes as he was on his knees in the chapel before the Blessed Sacrament. We may have glimpses, we may even have extended periods of this, yet we never reach the point where this is our reality twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

And we never reach the point where our whole lives are lived in perfect charity with our neighbors, live lived in full witness to peace and justice. We may strive for God’s kingdom to come on earth, but it will never be here in its fullness on earth before the eschaton.

Today’s first reading, in the book of Joshua, which appears after the Torah, tells of the arrival of the Israelites in the Promised Land. But there is a final hurdle that must be overcome before they can enter: the Jordan River. God tells Joshua that the way they can overcome that obstacle and enter is by having the priests take the Ark of the Covenant, and walk into the Jordan River. The waters will then gather in a heap, and the dry land of the riverbed will appear, and the Israelites will be able to cross over in ease.

And that is exactly what they did.

The Ark of the Covenant was the most sacred object in Israelites’ worship life. When not in travel, it rested in the Holy of Holies, the most sacred part of the Tabernacle and Temple. On top of it rested the Mercy Seat, on which the High Priest sprinkled blood on the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. There are two accounts in different parts of the Bible as to what was inside of the Ark. In some places, it is recorded that only the two tablets of the law, containing the Ten Commandments, were placed inside. In other placed, there are added a scroll of the Torah, a jar of manna – the mysterious substance that God rained down from heaven to feed the Israelites, and finally, the budding almond rod of Aaron. When there were those outside the Levite tribe who wished to be priests in place of Aaron, God instructed Moses to have each tribe place an almond rod – a dead branch -- inside the Tabernacle, and in the morning, Aaron’s had budded, and the others had not.

In our own lives as Christians, while we will not reach our true home, the Promised Land, in this life, there are even obstacles preventing us from reaching those glimpses we are given in this life. Like the Israelites, God has provided us with an Ark that contains gifts that can help us overcome those obstacles, our Jordan River separating us from the land of Canaan. If I may be permitted an allegorical interpretation of the Ark, I believe we as Christians can profit from this passage.

Just as the Ark contained the scroll of the law, and the tablets with the commandments, so we are given the gift of Scripture. In the first Psalm, it says of the righteous that “his [or her] delight is in the law of the Lord, and in his law doth he [or she] meditate day and night” (Psalm 1:2) – which is quoted in the Rule of St. Albert, the Carmelite Rule, as the principal duty of those following it. As we meditate on Scripture, day and night, our lives are transformed, and we are able to be conformed more and more to the image of Christ, in which we are created, and to which we are restored. The word of God in Scripture leads us to the Eternal Word of God, Jesus Christ.

We are also given manna in the form of the Eucharist, and by extension all of the sacraments. We are fed week by week, or even day by day, by the Body and Blood of Christ, receiving Him into our lives, so that we may become living tabernacles, sharing Christ with all with whom we come in contact. We receive the Body of Christ, so that we may become the Body of Christ in the world.

And the rod of Aaron reminds us of the baptismal priesthood to which we are all called. As we share in the offering of our lives to God as a living sacrifice, as Christ offered his body on the altar of the Cross for the whole world, so we too receive new life, just as Christ was raised from the dead. We mediate the reconciliation of the world to God through Christ by sharing with Christ in his eternal priesthood.

As we continue our journey, may we be filled with grace to receive these gifts of Scripture, Eucharist, and Royal Priesthood that we are given in our own Ark of the Covenant, Jesus Christ, and may we be enabled to pass into the Promised Land through Christ.

The Challenges and Gifts of Priesthood: On being a Confessor

It is tricky to discuss one's experience as a confessor, lest it lead to inadvertent breaking of the seal of the confessional. However, let me just say that the challenge, as I see it, is not the particular sins confessed. Most confessions, I would imagine, involve the confession of mundane sins of the sort that everyone commits on a regular basis, and in this day and age, particularly in the ISM context, everyone who comes to confession is sincerely penitent. Most confessors, upon hearing the list of sins, will most likely think, "Oh, yes, I committed this sin just the other day. Yes, that is an area I need to work on as well." Giving a penance (and I have only given the reading/praying of Scripture -- mostly the Psalms -- as a penance) and giving absolution is not really the challenge.

The real challenge is meeting the penitent where they are in their spiritual life and helping them. Some penitents come because confession is a regular part of their spiritual lives, and they are really only seeking absolution. And that is okay -- that may only be there to receive the sacrament. Others, in addition to this, may come to the sacrament also seeking a way to deepen their spiritual journey, and the confessor ideally will be able to hear this and provide some counsel or advice that will help the person to take the next step, whatever that may, on that journey. And since people are coming from a variety of places along that journey, this can be a challenge.

It's really no different at all from ministering to the people who come to Mass. The priest's duty as preacher and celebrant of the Mass is to preach the Word of God well and to celebrate the sacrament in a reverent and prayerful way, so that all who attend may receive the Word and the Body and Blood of Christ to strengthen them for service in the world. However, there are those who will come with a particular spiritual need, and before or after Mass, the priest may be called upon to provide further pastoral care to help that person where they are. Again, that can be a real challenge -- in fact, that may be a much bigger challenge, since it comes in the context of interacting with a whole community, and it can be trickier to discern the signs of what is going on with a person.

Discussing the interesting hard cases of the really big sins, or the preaching of particularly difficult texts, or the precise rubrics of the Mass are fun exercises -- it is dealing pastorally with individuals and communities that is the difficult work, and it is an art, not a science -- and the grace of the Holy Spirit in the moment often proves much more valuable than all the conversation about it in the world.

On Priesthood

(in response to a question asking "What exactly it is that priests *are* and how priest, deacon, and laity are distinct in how they *are* in the world?")

First, the three orders of ordained ministry involve identification with particular aspects of Christian discipleship to which all baptized Christians are called to some degree -- it is just that deacons, priests, and bishops are called to identify with them to a degree that ordinary Christians are not. All are called to serve, as Christ was called to serve, but deacons are called to identify with that servanthood in such a way that their whole life becomes a life of servanthood. All are called to act in priestly ways, but priests are called to identify with Christ as priest and victim in such a way that their whole life becomes a life of priesthood. And bishops, in addition to being "high priests", are called to the ministry of shepherding, of overseeing the church -- and all are called to that ministry to one extent or another, but bishops are called to identify with the church in such a way that their whole life is a life lived for the church.

Specifically, priests are called to be ministers of Word and Sacrament, most especially the Eucharist. All Christians should read and meditate on Scripture, and make the Bible their own book -- but priests are called to so identify with Scripture that they are women and men of the Word, so that it permeates their very being, so that they can preach -- the official sermons during liturgy are when they do this most visibly, but in a sense, there should never be a time in their waking life when they are not (and the dreams of a priest while sleeping should be filled with biblical symbolism). All Christians are called upon to sanctify their daily lives with the presence of Christ, but through the life of constant prayer (the center of which is the Divine Office, with its round of psalms, scripture, and prayer on behalf of the church) in intercession for the church, the priest is called to live out that Incarnation constantly. (While I know that religious do this as well, the Divine Office is more of a means of sanctification for religious, whereas priests and other clergy are more bound to recite it on behalf of the church than as a means of personal sanctification. It is sacrificial.) Finally, with the Eucharist, the priest becomes an "alter Christus", "another Christ", in acting on behalf of Christ as the priest who makes the one sacrifice of Himself on Calvary, and acting with Christ in offering himself or herself on behalf of and in intercession for the world.

Another way of looking at this is to look at where the "home" of each order is. The place of ministry for the laity is in the world. When they come to church, they sit in the nave, and are the ones who receive ministry. Laity do not come to church to minister, but to be ministered to, so that they can return to the world to minister. The place of ministry for the deacon is at the threshold -- during the week, near the door of the church, acting to communicate between church and world. The place of the deacon during the liturgy of the word is at the crossing, between the nave and the chancel, proclaiming the gospel facing the people, leading the intercessions facing the altar. The place of the deacon during the liturgy of the Eucharist is at the altar, assisting the priest. The place of the priests during the week is in the church, ministering to those who come for solace and ministry. Their place in the liturgy is in the pulpit and at the altar. The bishop, as a priest, belongs in those places as well, but also at the cathedra, overseeing the whole operation. Joseph described it thus at the gathering with the clergy -- God owns the restaurant, the bishop is the manager, the priests are the chefs, the deacons are the waiters, assisted by the minor order busboys, and the laity are the customers who come to eat.

On This Rock I Will Build My Church

Matthew 16:13-20

There are a lot of people who have fun giving ironic nicknames to others. The giant, muscular football player named Tiny. The fluffy little dog named Killer. My neighbor’s cat Pixie, who despite the cute name, has a pit bull whimpering in fear.

Jesus did something like that in today’s gospel when he made a pun on the name Peter, which means Rock. “I say to you that you are Petros, and on this petra I will build my church.” But anyone familiar with the story of Peter in the New Testament knows that he was anything but a rock. He was actually rather unstable.

When Jesus was walking on the water, Peter impetuously decided to try it as well. But as soon as he got out on the waves, his fears got the best of him, he took his eyes off of Jesus, and he began to sink, so that Jesus then had to rescue him. On the night before he was betrayed, Jesus told Peter that he would deny him three times before the cock crowed. Peter said, “Not me! I would never do anything like that!” Of course, we all know the story – he did exactly that. When the going got tough, Peter proved himself to be a fair-weather friend.

This continued even after the resurrection. In Galatians, Paul tells how Peter would ignore the dietary laws when eating with those from a Gentile background, but then would follow them with those who insisted that all the Christians had to follow them as well. Paul rebuked him for his hypocrisy.

I even read the exchange between Jesus and Peter in the beginning of today’s gospel as Jesus gently teasing Peter. Jesus asks the disciples who people say he is, and the disciples tell him the different theories they have heard. Then, he asks them who they say he is. I picture them all looking at each other, afraid to guess, and then Peter impetuously guesses – not as the act of deep faith as it is often read, but rather as a guess, a stab in the dark. When Jesus tells him that “flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven”, it is not so much a pious statement as it is a recognition that Peter is too much of a blockhead to ever come up with such a profound statement on his own – it is only by the grace of God that he is able to perceive the truth of who Jesus is – Christ, the anointed one, the son of the living God – fully God, fully human, God incarnate.

But I take great hope in this. If Christ could use Peter to do great things for God, then Christ can use me, as well – in fact, he can use all of us.

And when Jesus says that he will build his church on this rock, he is not referring to Peter alone, and still less to someone who holds an office that Peter may have held. He is referring to all of us who, by the grace of God, are able to recognize Jesus as the Anointed One, and who, by grace, are able to live our lives by that truth. All of us, when we make that confession, are made part of that rock on which the church is built – even as we stumble, as Peter stumbled, we know Christ is always ready to extend a hand to help us up.

So may we always live by the grace that enables us to recognize Jesus as the Christ, the son of the living God.

Prayers for the Journey

The request for my blessing by someone about to take a trip gives me great joy. It is not something I ever thought about prior to ordination. It is not even something that happens with any great frequency. It is certainly not something that takes a lot of time and effort, as preaching and other tasks do. But it is immensely satisfying, and I am always delighted when someone asks me to do it, as two people did this week.

I don’t have a standard formula – I pray extemporaneously for the person, adapting the prayer to the particular journey they are about to take, ending with a blessing in the name of the Trinity as I trace the sign of the cross on the supplicant’s forehead. Simple. I hope it is meaningful to the person seeking the blessing – I find great meaning in offering it.

Whenever I am about to leave for an overnight journey, I pray the Itinerary, a short office consisting of the Benedictus, the Lord’s Prayer, several versicles, and several collects evoking biblical journeys. It ends with the wonderful versicle and response “V.Let us go forth in peace. R. In the Name of the Lord. Amen.” The antiphon on the Benedictus recalls the journey of Tobit by invoking the archangel Raphael, and the Benedictus contains the prayer “to guide our feet into the way of peace”. The collects mention the journeys of the Israelites in the desert, the Magi on their way to pay homage to the newborn Christ, and Abraham as he set out from Ur, as well as recalling John the Baptist at whose birth the Benedictus was first recited by his father. It is a beautiful prayer, and it has a way of calming me as I set out. The Anglican Breviary adds to it a form of thanksgiving at the journey’s end, using Psalm 103, which is also lovely, and which helps me to return to my everyday life after a trip.

It is my prayer that all of my readers have safe travels wherever they go, as well as a blessed journey with God through life.

Part III of Sermon: "Confessions of a Church Polity Geek: Reflections on Doing the Holy Work of the Beloved Community"

This is part two of a three-part sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Delaware County on Sunday, June 26, 2011. Part one can be found here. Part two can be found there.

Because of the time spent to prepare this sermon, I did not have time to prepare a sermon for St. Mary of Grace's Sunday evening Eucharist celebrating the feast of Corpus Christi. I had planned on recycling a sermon I have given several times on the Eucharist. A few minutes before Mass, it occurred to me that if I switched the order of "discerning Christ's body in the Church" and "discerning Christ's body in the poor", I could use the four points in the third part of this sermon as an explanation of ways to live out being Christ's body the Church. During the singing of the Gloria in excelsis, it occurred to me that each of these four points could be tied to one of the marks of the Church from the Nicene Creed, and so in brackets, I have included the appropriate mark with the appropriate section, although this was not part of the sermon as preached to the UU congregation. There was more explanation of how the marks corresponded with the points, but that will have to wait for another blogpost. Self-plagiarism is a preacher's best friend.

There are four things the church must do in order to do its work well.

[ONE] First, each part of the church, be it a congregation, a regional unit, or a denomination, must order all of its activities around the central core values it holds as foundational – the beliefs and practices that are most sacred and most important to it. Of course, first, this means that a church unit must know what those values are, and be in unity about them. Every activity in which the church engages must be evaluated to see if it is in basic harmony with those values, and if not, whether it should be let go or reconfigured in order to better express the fundamental mission of the church. The church should also carefully consider whether it is being called to new ministries to better carry out its mission.

[HOLY] A church must be concerned with spiritual growth. Many religious traditions tell stories about a mountain as a metaphor for spiritual growth. Moses went up Mount Sinai to meet God and receive the law. Jesus went up a mountain with three of his disciples for the Transfiguration. St. John of the Cross, the great Carmelite mystic, used the Carmelite foundational symbol of Mount Carmel as the basis for his teaching about prayer in his classic work The Ascent of Mount Carmel, with a diagram of the mountain laying out the progress of the Christian’s life of prayer with God.

When you climb a mountain, there are two ways to go – you can keep ascending and going toward the top, or you can start going down. The spiritual life is similar – you are either progressing, going higher or deeper, or stagnating and declining, moving away from union with the divine. Everything the church does should be helping its members grow in the spiritual life. If it is not, it is very likely that it is moving its members away from the divine and hindering the spiritual life.

[CATHOLIC] A church must also balance the needs of the community as a whole with the needs of the individual. In order for the church to prosper, its members must sacrifice in order to contribute to the well-being of the community as a whole. Just showing up week after week is a sacrifice – in our busy society, there are always more enjoyable things that one could be doing. Members need to be willing to contribute their time, their talent, and their treasure for the church to continue to do its work. And members of the church need to be willing to make the sacrifices necessary to spiritual growth so that they can support one another. A church whose members do not sacrifice is not a true community – it is a collection of individuals, a social club.

But the church must also work for the good of the individual. A church that demands sacrifice but offers no freedom in return, and runs roughshod over its members’ individual gifts and needs, is a cult. True spirituality inspires each individual to attain the highest level of growth and flowering of her individual gifts. This must always be respected and nurtured.

[APOSTOLIC] Finally, there must be a balance between the pursuit of spirituality, the nurturing of community, and reaching out to the world at large with the church’s message of faith, hope, and love. A church that focuses on spirituality to the neglect of community and mission risks pursuing a false spirituality that is not engaged with real life – a spirituality which is an illusion. A church that is only inward-looking, fostering close relationships among its members without reaching out in love to others, risks becoming a social club. A church that is only concerned with fighting for justice, neglecting spirituality and its own health risks becoming a political club or a social service agency. While there is nothing wrong with either of these, it is not what the church is called to be, and it cannot do those tasks as well as organizations whose mission is to be a political party or a social service agency. All three of these tasks are necessary, and they must be balanced.

As we reflect on how the church does its work, let us commit ourselves more fully to our beloved community, and gird ourselves to do the holy work we are called to do.

Part II of Sermon: "Confessions of a Church Polity Geek: Reflections on Doing the Holy Work of the Beloved Community"

This is part two of a three-part sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Delaware County on Sunday, June 26, 2011. Part one can be found here.

There are three basic types of governance in church polity: congregational, presbyterian, and episcopal.

In the congregational model, each local congregation is autonomous and governs itself, without interference from higher church bodies. The local congregation owns its own property, and hires and fires its staff without interference. The most that can happen if it does something that displeases a denominational body is that that body can expel the congregation from the denomination. In this form of church polity, the laity are the ones with the most power.

In the presbyterian model, the governance is placed in the hands of small groups of elders, including clergy and a small body of lay elders in each congregation. Power is often distributed among the different levels, with the decisions of a lower body needing to be ratified by a higher body, and vice versa. The local body of elders call the clergy, but this must usually be ratified by the regional body of elders. Property is usually in the hands of the denomination, although there may be provisions for a church to secede with its property if it votes to do so by a supermajority, with the regional body ratifying it. In this form of church polity, the clergy and lay elders are the ones with the most power.

In the episcopal model, the governance is placed in the hands of bishops, who have authority in a given geographical area. It is the bishop who has the authority to ordain, and to place and to move clergy. The property is usually held by the denomination or by the regional unit of government, with the bishop having a lot of the authority over it. In this form of church polity, the bishops are the ones with the most power.

Many denominations do not have a pure form of church polity, but a mix of two or more of the basic types. In the Episcopal Church, it is sometimes joked that the polity is episcopal as regards the bishops, presbyterian as regards the clergy, and congregational as regards the laity!

There are advantages and disadvantages to all three systems.

In the congregational system, there is a high potential for the involvement of the laity, and decisions are made at the lowest level, so there can be a much greater chance of appropriate response to local situations. On the other hand, when dysfunctional situations arise, there is no denominational official who can step in and intervene and address the dysfunction. It is harder to address both congregations that treat clergy abusively, and clergy who are abusive of their congregations. My own father was very dysfunctional, and was fired by four congregations. It would have been very helpful if someone could have stepped in and made sure that he got the help he needed to address his dysfunctional behavior.

Also, while democracy works great in many situations, it can also lead to a “mob mentality” that inflicts harm on minorities. The Southern Baptist Convention, which is adamantly congregational, regularly votes to demonize lgbt folk.

In the presbyterian system, there is the advantage of governing by the wisdom of those most invested in the church. I have met many committed lay elders in Presbyterian churches, and they are a credit to their denomination. However, the danger can be that the process of governance so consumes the energy of those involved, that there is not enough energy for other aspects of the church’s ministry. In addition, it is more difficult to be flexible on the local level, since unity across the denomination tends to be much more highly prized in this system. And there can be a two-tier system of those with power and those without.

In the episcopal system, there is much more efficiency since one person is making most of the decisions, at least for a given region. And therein lies the rub – if the bishop is a person of great vision and wisdom, she or he can provide great leadership and can lead the church to great things. If not, however, the church suffers from the shortsightedness, mediocrity, or dysfunction of the bishop. I think this system works best in small churches, such as many independent sacramental jurisdictions, where the bishop knows everyone in the church, and when there is an absence of a theology that links the particular denomination with the church as a whole or with infallibility, so that people are free to leave if there is a dysfunctional bishop.

I have seen effective examples of all three types of governance, and disasters in all three. So it is not so much the type of polity that is most important to whether a church is doing its work effectively, but how those who govern use that polity.

Remembering My Mother's Death One Year Later

Today is the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. She died much as she lived – quietly, avoiding the spotlight, and without fanfare.

My father, in contrast, was a noisy person, always striving to be at the center of attention. He couldn’t even sit still – sitting in a chair, he would constantly shift position, fidget with objects, sigh or whistle or say something, even when alone, so that being in the same room with him one could not help but pay attention to him. Even when he was in his study praying or reading, he did so noisily. Reading his Bible or the many biblical commentaries in his library, he would constantly remark aloud on things he saw in the text. And when he prayed, he prayed aloud, sometimes muttering under his breath, sometimes shouting quite loudly. If he was home, he was making sounds, so that you knew it.

And his death was no different. In the hospital, five days before his ninety-second birthday, as I sat waiting for the end, his breathing changed dramatically, and he began to struggle for breath. I called in a nurse, and each of us held one of his hands. I told her something of his life story – how he had lost his first wife in an automobile accident, his first daughter at birth, and how my mother and I nearly died when I was born. I told her of the poverty he endured as a child, one of fourteen children of a mentally unbalanced father whose erratic actions kept the family impoverished. I told her of his religious journey as a fundamentalist minister.

I also told her of his stubbornness. Once, while home at Thanksgiving, as I was preparing to drive my parents down to the Ozarks for the family Thanksgiving dinner, a neighbor’s cat for whom my mother would leave out food was on the carport, rubbing up against my legs and purring. My father, who walked with a cane by that time as a result of strokes, came out to join us, and fell, with his cane going through the window of the screen door, shattering the glass. After my mother and I got him in and settled in his recliner, I put on gloves to pick up the glass, first throwing the cat into our car so he wouldn’t get hurt. But my father, rather than being content with resting comfortably after his fall, insisted on driving himself to some automotive store, after the cat had been liberated, of course, and taking me with him, as if to prove that he could still drive.

Similarly, I told her how, after his doctor told me he had six to twelve months to live, he lived eighteen months – largely, I suspect, to prove him wrong. He drew a breath, and then was silent, and she said, “That was his last breath.” And then he drew what was actually his last breath, and I looked at her and said, with a twinkle in my eye, “You had to issue him a challenge, didn’t you?”

My mother, on the other hand, was quiet. When she was home, her presence did not intrude on my consciousness as my father’s did, and we could inhabit the same space comfortably. She would speak her mind when she thought it necessary, but those times were few and rather far between.

While my father would get restless and get out and drive around town, stopping to gab with his friends in various places, my mother was fairly content to stay home, and she never obtained a driver’s license. (She also never got her ears pierced, and never wore pants.) Once they were in the nursing home, my father would spend as much time in the common areas as possible, having the aides wheel him there. My mother, in contrast, would hide out in her room, refusing the coaxing of the staff to come join in activities.

The night she died, friends of theirs, although my age, took me out to eat. My mother had been unconscious for several days. He was a Southern Baptist minister, and she had been a close friend of my mother’s, both of them regarding my parents as mentors and, in some ways, surrogate parents. We returned to the room, and he prayed with us, and they left. I sat down next to her bed, watching television, and about fifteen minutes after they left, noticed that she wasn’t breathing, and so I called in the nurses to confirm her death. There was no immediate change before she stopped breathing – indeed, although she had stopped not too long before I noticed, I don’t know how quickly I noticed after her last breath. She just slipped away quietly. I remember looking out the window and seeing one of the most spectacular sunsets I had ever seen, with the sky full of pinks, and reds, and oranges.

My Christian faith assures me that she is at peace.

Mary Coldwell Cravens, January 24, 1925 – June 28, 2010

Part I of Sermon "Confessions of a Church Polity Geek: Reflections on Doing the Holy Work of the Beloved Community"

I delivered the sermon yesterday, June 26, 2011, at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Delaware County, in whose beautiful facilities my own church has the privilege of worshiping on Sunday evenings. The description of the sermon for their bulletin read:

Bishops have been assassinated for liturgies that lasted too long -- fistfights have broken out over the date of Easter -- excommunications galore have been issued through the centuries as people of faith have made decisions about their religious communities. Thankfully, none of these fates await the minister and lay delegation of UUCDC as they travel to Charlotte for the UUA General Assembly! While they are there, Bishop Cravens will reflect on healthy ways religious communities can engage in the holy work they are called to do.

For the reading earlier in the service, from which this sermon draws inspiration if not exactly being an exposition, I chose two biblical passages: Psalm 133 and Acts 2:42-46.

Because the sermon is a more central part of the service in the UU tradition, my sermon was considerably longer than the sermons I usually give, and since there were three distinct sections, I will post them separately (largely because I have not completed committing them to cyber-paper, given the fact that I preach like a Baptist). Here is part 1.

It may seem odd that I am a church polity geek. I love to read blogs by members of various denominations describing the political issues their churches are facing, and I tend to be pretty current in my awareness of those issues in most major (and some minor) religious groups. But I come by it honestly.

I spent a year and a half discerning a vocation to the Atonement Friars, a branch of the Franciscans in the Roman Catholic denomination. During that time, I experienced how that religious institute governed itself, and got at least some exposure to the governance of the denomination as a whole. Before entering, I actually read all of the canons of the Roman Catholic Code of Canon Law.

Later, I served on the vestry of an Episcopal parish, and served as a Lay Delegate to the Diocesan Convention from the parish, again getting to know much of the inner workings of the Episcopal Church. Also, during that time, I managed to get roped into serving on the board of a Presbyterian parachurch organization as an “ecumenical representative” thanks to the executive coordinator, a friend of mine from divinity school.

About three years ago, with the help of some other members of the jurisdiction of which I am the bishop, I put together the Canons and Policies that govern how we do the Lord’s work church in our own small corner of the church.

But my interest in church polity goes back much further. Given the family into which I was born, I really didn’t have a chance.

My father and eight of his ten brothers were ordained ministers in various evangelical denomination, and one of the remaining two was a lay preacher, and if the other brother had not been killed in battle in World War II, he might very well have preached as well. True story: I memorized my uncles’ names by their denominational affiliation. Uncles Rupert, Luther, and George were ministers in the Church of the Nazarene, although Uncle George resigned when he divorced, and lived out his days as a Southern Baptist layman. Uncles Wilbur, Marvin, and Robert were Cumberland Presbyterian ministers. (Cumberland Presbyterians are basically hillbilly Presbyterians. I come from an Ozark Hillbilly family.) Uncle Ellis ended up as a Cumberland Presbyterian minister as well, after being a Free-Will Baptist minister for a few years. Uncle Vernon, after briefly trying out the Cumberland Presbyterians, became a minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA), the largest Presbyterian denomination in this country. My father was briefly licensed as a Free-Will Baptist preacher, and was ordained a Cumberland Presbyterian minister, but spent most of his career as a Southern Baptist minister, except for a few years during my childhood when he was an Assemblies of God pastor, before returning to the Southern Baptists.

I actually attended my first national church governance meeting when I was three – the Southern Baptist Convention in Denver. My main memory is going to the children’s room and sitting on a box to watch “Jot” cartoons – a church cartoon the Southern Baptists put out. (Not nearly as interesting as “Davey and Goliath”, which I also watched, a claymation program put out by the Lutherans.)

My first serious interest in church polity came at about age 9. My father had decided to leave the Assemblies of God and return to the Southern Baptists. He had a copy of the Manual of the Pentecostal Holiness Church, because a friend of his was trying to recruit him when he found out he was leaving the Assemblies of God (which is also a Pentecostal denomination), and I was fascinated with the history of the denomination and with the rules governing the church. I was also fascinated with the yearbooks of the various Southern Baptist associations and conventions, with their constitutions, bylaws, and statistical tables.

At age 10, my father had returned to the pastorate of a Southern Baptist church, and I had “surrendered to preach” – that is, come forward during an altar call to say that I felt called to become a minister when I grew up. My parents were going to the Southern Baptist Convention in Kansas City that summer as “messengers”, as the Southern Baptists call their delegates, and it was decided that I, too, should be a messenger, since the church was entitled to an additional one, and they were afraid that the “liberals” were going to take over. I was fascinated with the greetings from Baptist denominations in other countries. I remember singing “How Firm a Foundation” with the tens of thousands of messengers, hearing Billy Graham preach – telling about his experiences in a Communist country, going through all the booths in the exhibitors’ hall. I also remember that one of the votes that was taken was about homosexuality – they overwhelmingly voted to condemn it, with only a few dissenting – who were immediately looked upon with suspicion by everyone else as possibly being gay and definitely not being Christian.

On the way to the convention, we stayed with my Uncle Marvin, a Cumberland Presbyterian minister, and was fascinated with the book containing their Confession of Faith and the various polity documents, and requested one, which he sent me later that summer when they went to their own General Assembly.

A few years later, my father decided to return to the charismatic world and did not pastor a church for five years. At some point during that time, we began attending the United Methodist church our next door neighbors attended. I joined, and quickly took to reading the Book of Discipline, the book containing that denomination’s polity. The rule in United Methodism is that the Annual Conferences (roughly like UU districts) and General Conference must be made up of equal numbers of lay and clergy delegates. Each church has a lay delegate for every clergymember serving the congregation. Because there are ministers who are not pastors of congregations, serving in denominational bureaucracy, or chaplaincy, or the like, various annual conferences have come up with ways to make up the difference, and our annual conference let each district appoint two youth delegates, and I was appointed to be one of them for the conference occurring during the summer before my senior year.

In many ways it was a great experience. I attended all but one of the sessions. I enjoyed meeting other people. I bought some interesting books about worship that are still in my library. But I did miss one session – and I stayed away because it was too painful.

You see, when I was about thirteen, I started realizing that I was gay. Unfortunately, around that time, the United Methodist Church was debating the issue of ordaining openly gay clergy. A bishop in Colorado ordained an openly lesbian minister around 1982, and this caused an uproar in the more conservative parts of the denomination, including East Tennessee and southwest Virginia, the conference of which I was a part. That conference, like most of the Southern conferences, and some others, passed resolutions by overwhelming majorities condemning this move and demanding that the 1984 General Conference (they are held every four years) ban the ordination of “self-avowed, practicing homosexuals”, a ban that, sadly, passed and remains in the Book of Discipline and that has been joined by bans on same-sex marriages being performed by United Methodist clergy or on United Methodist church property.

And, while I remain fascinated by church polity and continue to read – for fun – various things about religious communities and how they make decisions, it’s a very important issue, because people’s spiritual lives are at stake. How religious communities go about their work can have profoundly negative – or profoundly positive – effects on people’s lives.