Sermon Text Gary Jones Church of the Holy Communion

SUNDAY SERMON

August 10, 2003
Proper 14, Year B

Church of the Holy Communion
The Rev. Gary D. Jones

It's been a long time since I was able to attend a basketball game in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. But the last time I did, it was a memorable experience. We were not supposed to win this game, and I had good seats - front, center court, maybe seven or eight aisles back from the court itself. My wife was sitting next to me and next to her a couple of other friends, and we were winning! I mean, we were winning BIG, and we weren't supposed to be. It was so much fun. I can't tell you how much fun it was. And so I said, "I'm going to get a diet coke. Would anybody else like something?" I took orders, and off I went.

By the time I got back, we were losing. And the lady sitting next to me grabbed me by the arm, pushed me down in my seat and said, "You are going nowhere! Stay right here, because when you leave, things go bad! We were doing just fine until you went to get a coke."

Folks, I just got back in town from my vacation, and I need to ask you, "What is going on in The Episcopal Church?" I can't leave you all, can I?!

Seriously, I recognize that these are tumultuous times. It has been a tumultuous summer, in many ways.

Driving back home to Memphis, these last couple of days, I was put in mind of a history class at Yale - it was a class on medieval church history. The professor was an Episcopal priest, and we were talking about some aberration in the history of Christianity. It could have been the sale of indulgences to speed people through purgatory. Or maybe it was the time we discussed the church in Scotland and how the bishops had to lay down the law and say to the priests in Scotland, "You may not keep your mistresses within two miles of the cathedral close." Some strange aberration in our church history. And a student, who was a Presbyterian Ph.D. candidate, raised his had, was acknowledged by the professor, and said, "This is why we had to do it. This is why we had to break the church family apart. Because we saw the aberrations in the church, and we realized that we needed to start over again. We needed to go back to an earlier time in the life of the church and start over again. We needed to break with these medieval aberrations."

The professor, a brilliant man who had been appointed by the Queen of England to be the Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, but refused to go because he had a Golden Retriever, and that meant putting the Golden Retriever in quarantine for six months ... this professor who was an Episcopal priest responded after a brief moment of silence, "Sir, respectfully, I must disagree; because I believe," he said, "in the William Faulkner understanding of church history." And of course we were all wondering what in the world he was talking about. I mean, here we were in New Haven, Connecticut, talking about medieval church history, and the professor was invoking a modern novelist from Mississippi -- what in the world is the William Faulkner view of church history? But the professor began to explain.

The Sound and the Fury, perhaps Faulkner's greatest novel, is the story of the demise of the Compson family. And Faulkner has depicted the characters in fascinating ways, particularly as we note the way in which each character relates to time - past, present and future. There's Benji, the idiot, who is trapped, like an animal, in the immediate present only. He has no past. He has no future. In the stream of consciousness writing that opens the novel, we view the world through Benji's eyes as he responds to stimuli around him like an animal. Then there's Quentin. Quentin is stuck in the past, unable to move beyond troubling concerns of his history, which means of course that Quentin has no present, and no future. Quinten commits suicide at Harvard.

And Jason, the other boy, … Jason is stuck always thinking about the next thing. Jason is too focused on the future, and as a result, he has no present and no past. The one sustaining, unifying force in that family is the Negro servant, Dilsey. Dilsey is not oppressed by the past, nor is she oppressed by the future, nor is she oppressed by the present, because her feet are firmly planted in eternity. And listening to her pondering during the preacher's sermon on that Easter Day, confirms for the reader that although Dilsey has seen it all and lived through all of the family's troubles, she will not be overwhelmed by any of it, because she lives her life from the perspective of the eternal now.

Dilsey is unusual in the story, and in an interesting exchange, Dilsey's daughter warns her about taking the idiot, Benji, to church with her. "Folks are talking," the daughter says. And Dilsey responds, "Whut folks? … And I know whut kind of folks. Trash white folks. Dat's who it is. Thinks he aint good enough fer white church, but nigger church aint good enough for him." The daughter remarks that folks are going to be talking just the same. (They're going to be talking. Schnucks, Goldsmith's, Wal-Mart. They're going to be talking.) … Dilsy answers, "Den you send um to me. Tell um de good Lawd dont keer whether he smart er not. Dont nobody but white trash keer dat." All of which amounts to very good theology, as one critic has pointed out, and the only sane thinking in the novel.*

The professor's point in the church history class that day was that the healthiest response to one's history was to take stock of one's past honestly, not denying difficulties but not obsessing over them either. It's important to incorporate one's complete story, one's complete history, into one's present. This was the way Dilsey seemed to handle things - she could take it all in stride because she was living the truth with a trust in something much greater than the imperfections of the temporal world -- and the result was uncommon good sense. But trying to deny or break with the past often leads to unhealthy and often destructive behavior.

I'm aware these are tumultuous times. Issues of real importance are before The Episcopal Church. And I gather that there are a wide range of emotions here at Church of the Holy Communion. Some anger, some sadness, maybe some joy in this room now. There is some fear. There are some who feel proud of The Episcopal Church and some who feel ashamed.

And some have said to me, "I just wish my friends would stop quoting the Bible to me all the time." And I understand that. I love Holy Scripture. I believe it contains all things necessary for salvation. And with one of our greatest theologians, Richard Hooker, I believe the Holy Scripture contains a depth of meaning that human beings, no matter how intelligent or prayerful, no matter how dedicated they are or how long they study the Bible, human beings will never be able fully to plumb the depth of meaning contained in the Bible. So when angry or anxious people, liberal or conservative, start quoting bits and pieces of scripture as weapons, I have a sinking feeling in my heart. It feels almost like a violation or a misuse of something sacred, like taking the Lord's name in vain. Scripture is not a weapon.

There is much going on in the family of The Episcopal Church in the United States of America, and in Church of the Holy Communion. And when there is such a mixture of emotions in my own family, when someone is all puffed up because something great is going on in his or her life and someone else is all down in the mouth or angry about something, … when there is a mixture of emotions in my family, we tend to treat each other more tenderly. If someone is out of sorts or sad and someone else is joyful, there is something about our commitment to each other. There is something about our loyalty to the family, something about our love for each other, that makes us more mindful and gentle with each other.

Could there be a better Epistle appointed for today than the one from St. Paul to the Ephesians? Put away all bitterness and wrath and anger. Be kind. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving, as Jesus forgave you. …The same, I hope, will be true here. What wonderful advice for any family, and perhaps especially now, for The Episcopal Church. I would suggest even taking that passage home, cutting it out, and putting it on your refrigerator.

But regardless of your individual feelings about issues pertaining to same gender relationships and the church's response, I hope everyone here can join with me in noticing one of the wonderful graces to come out of our recent General Convention of The Episcopal Church. The way Episcopalians dealt with each other as they dealt with an issue that so radically divides our modern society - this was remarkable. It even has the secular media gawking in amazement at us. I was delighted to read an editorial in The Commercial Appeal about how The Episcopal Church is such a model of civility, able to discuss things that others can't begin to discuss. The Dallas Morning News also noticed it: "We have been struck," The Dallas Morning News said, "by the calm and deliberative process the Episcopalians followed in reaching their conclusion ... Watching these Episcopalians of all beliefs reason their way through their disagreement on this issue could serve as a guidepost for the larger society. … Perhaps their thoughtfulness and mutual respect for one another on this issue will have a positive impact on how all of us Americans carry on our larger societal debates. At least we hope so."

It's true. I believe God is at work in amazing ways.

You all should know about the affirmative vote to confirm Canon Gene Robinson as the Bishop of New Hampshire that not everyone who voted yes would say they approved of same gender relationships. There were some, particularly life-long Episcopalians, who voted to confirm Canon Robinson as Bishop of New Hampshire because of the high importance Anglicans place on diocesan autonomy in the choice of bishops. The Diocese of New Hampshire has lived with Bishop Robinson for twenty-eight years. The lay and clergy leadership of New Hampshire knew him well and overwhelmingly chose him to be their bishop. For whatever reason, they believed Canon Robinson to be the best person to be their bishop, and he will have jurisdiction solely over those who chose him.

Some of the most highly respected and godly bishops of our beloved church voted to confirm Canon Robinson out of respect for another diocese and out of a sense of humility about ways in which the Holy Ghost has acted in ways beyond our understanding in the past and surely will in the future. Bishop Peter Lee, one of the most highly regarded leaders in our church today, Bishop Peter Lee of Virginia put it this way: "Since my own consecration in 1984, I have consented to the consecration of nearly 200 Bishops. Some of them were divorced and remarried, some opposed the ordination of women, some had limited experience, and others held theological views contrary to my own. Each had been elected in an open, fair election where the dioceses knew whom they were electing. Those of us who consented to the consecration of the Reverend Canon Gene Robinson as Bishop of New Hampshire placed a high priority on the importance of diocesan autonomy in the choice of its bishop. That does not mean we agree on issues of sexuality."

Anyone who has watched, particularly in the South, the effects of iron-fisted dogmatism in other denominations can surely appreciate the importance of this principle for Episcopalians. Can you imagine the central office coming into our Episcopal Universities and Seminaries and saying "You, you and you do not agree with the current theology of the home office. You are fired!" That which has been going on in the Southern Baptist church cannot happen in the Episcopal Church because of this cherished principle of ours that authority in our church is broadly distributed. Who can imagine a Pope dictating for Episcopalians what is acceptable and unacceptable belief and practice? For Episcopalians, such a thing is foreign to us. Somewhere deep in the psyche of most Episcopalians is the treasured belief that the Dioceses of New Hampshire should be able to choose the Bishop who is right for them and West Tennessee should be able to choose who is right for us. And the day we have New England Bishops telling the Dioceses of West Tennessee, "We will not confirm your choice of Bishop until you elect a woman as Bishop or a black person as Bishop"… or whatever the current agenda in New England might be, that's when I'll eat my words. But that's not going to happen. Who in West Tennessee could imagine such a thing?

This principle of diocesan autonomy is deeply ingrained in our consciousness, and I believe it will be very difficult for many of our Protestant and Roman Catholic friends to understand it. Which is why you will be peppered with questions at Schnuck's. But know this. From the time of Queen Elizabeth, in 16th Century England, we Anglicans had traditionally shunned the imposition of outside authority. Queen Elizabeth set the stage for all of us, reigning on an island separated from the foment of theological dogmatism on continental Europe. Queen Elizabeth was distrustful of the motives of those in Rome and in Geneva. She did not want radicals in either of those places dictating what the people in England must do or believe. Elizabeth wanted an English church for the English people.

Somehow the most deeply rooted Episcopalians understand this, and I believe it is one of the reasons that some at General Convention chose not to dictate to the people of New Hampshire their selection of a bishop.

One final observation occurred to me as I pondered the puzzlement of some of our Protestant and Roman Catholic friends who are more accustomed to having matters of faith and practice dictated to them, spelled out for them more clearly by others. It's contained in the Chicago/Lambeth Quadrilateral, in the back of the Book of Common Prayer. Look at it sometime if you would like. It's fascinating, and it's found on pages 876-878. The Chicago/Lambeth Quadrilateral spells out a cherished principle of Episcopalians from the late 19th Century to which all Anglican bishops agreed. It is our fundamental belief in the importance of fundamentals as opposed to peripherals. And fundamentals identified here are four:

We believe that the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament contain all things necessary for salvation.

Secondly, we believe that the ancient creeds, the Nicene Creed and Apostles Creed, are sufficient statements of the faith, and you will never have somebody else dictating to you a new creed, or innovative beliefs. The ancient ones are sufficient for us.

Thirdly, the two sacraments, ordained by Jesus himself: Baptism and the Lord's Supper. The other sacramental rites are important, but these are the essential ones that are most important to us.

And fourthly, Apostolic Succession - the importance of the Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of administration to the varying needs of different nations.

You will notice that particular views about sex and sexual orientation did not make the list of the fundamentals. Whichever way the cultural or Ecclesiastical pendulum might swing in any given era, one may be a card carrying Episcopalian in good standing and believe a wide variety of things about how the Bible should be interpreted. You can be an Episcopalian and believe abortion is always wrong, or you can believe that abortion is acceptable in certain circumstances and so on. This cherished principle of freedom is one that is highly valued by Episcopalians.

The result, of course, is that The Episcopal Church is going to be in the news a lot, because we are intent on keeping both liberal and conservative Christians at the altar together. We will have discussions and disagreements that the more controlling churches could never have. And as happened this year at our General Convention, we will often lead the way in providing a model of civility and respect and care for one another in tending to these difficult issues that many other churches avoid at all costs. All costs.

Don't you believe with me that our contentious and litigious society needs more of this model of mutual respect and civility in our discussions with one another about those things that threaten to divide us?

God is at work in our church.

So what should you say to your friends who are stopping you at Schnuck's or Goldsmith's or Wal-Mart? I'd just tell them the truth, in love. Tell them you disagree strongly with what happened at General Convention, if that's what you think. Tell them you're not sure what you think yet, because it's ok to be uncertain about some things. One need not always be cocky or arrogantly certain about every emotional issue that comes our way. Tell them you think your church has taken a courageous stand, if that's what you believe, or has acted foolishly if that's what you believe. I imagine some folks around here will be shrugging their shoulders and telling their buddies "What do you expect from a bunch of New Hampshire Yankees?"

When someone who has asked you about a family member of yours who has done something wonderful, don't you feel proud? The test of your character, though, comes when someone asks you pointedly about a member of your family who has done something distasteful or with which you disagree. "I am sorry my aunt or my uncle did that or my grandfather or my grandmother or my brother or sister." Some of us Southerners try to relegate such relatives to the attic. We try to focus on our illustrious ancestors and a cover up the unsavory characters.

But more and more, I hope we can all let go of the need to have people believe we have a perfect family. No one's family, blood kin or spiritual kin, is perfect.

But let me say clearly: I was reared in the Episcopal Church in the United States of America, as many of you were. I was married in this church. I was baptized, confirmed, ordained in this church. My children have all been baptized in the Episcopal Church of the United States of America. I have buried my father and grandparents from this church. I am an American Anglican! I am not an African Anglican. I am here to stay, and this church is going to be one of the strongest, proudest churches I can imagine.

Nobody agrees all the time. If we did, Jesus wouldn't have to tell us over and over again to love each other. And there would be no need for this morning's Epistle on your refrigerator.

On my way back to Memphis this weekend I wasn't supposed to preach, but I said I wanted to. I couldn't help but have the feeling that the devil has gotten active. Because if the devil can keep us focused on sex instead of feeding the hungry, he's going to be happy. If the devil can turn every dinner conversation, every conversation over coffee and doughnuts at church, every church social gathering away from the topic of caring for the lonely, praying for the sick, clothing the naked, deepening our prayer life, tending to those among us who need us, and so on, then the devil will keep us from doing the things that Jesus explicitly commanded us to do.

I used to keep a cartoon in the front of my Bible from the New Yorker. It shows a clergyman shaking hands with his parishioners at the door after church. It's a fancy church with gothic architecture and the people appear happy. And there at the bottom of the steps, there is a man with his top hat, nicely dressed, and his wife with a mink coat. She leans to her husband and says, "All in all, he preaches a pretty good sermon. It's so hard to avoid offending people like us."

You know that cartoon came out a long time ago, the issues have changed, and I imagine that I am going to offend some people, and I hate that, I really do. I don't mean it disrespectfully, if I have said something to offend you this morning. That was not my intention. And I want you to know that while I accept the responsibility of promoting respectful discussion about difficult issues in our parish church, I have no intention and no desire to spend my ministry in Memphis, TN talking about sex all the time. We have too many wonderful things going on in this parish, too much work to do to be side tracked.

Under the leadership of people like Amy O'Dell, Chloe Poag and Blair Both, we are about to build another home for a family who needs it. Under the leadership of Janie Morris, Lisa Holt, Tom Momberg and a host of other pastoral care providers, we are tending to many, many people who need your love and your prayers. Under the leadership of Beth Russell, Debra Satterfield, Katie Brownyard and Robbie McQuiston we are strategizing about fantastic ways to nurture the faith that God has put in our children. We are providing sacred liturgies for people who are sending us emails and telling us in person, "I left the church a long time ago, and I feel like I can come home now." Issues of human sexuality will distract and divide some people. Some Episcopalians will leave. But here at Church of the Holy Communion, whatever differences of opinion may be aired, I have a strong sense that God is at work among us, mobilizing powerful ministries of Jesus' love.

The devil may be active in parts of the Episcopal Church, but I believe deeply that the devil will be frustrated at the corner of Walnut Grove and Perkins. Pray for each other. Pray for our beloved church which is strong and healthy and is going to be just fine. And pray that the love of God may dwell richly in your own hearts, so that we may manifest him to one another. Amen.

*The literary critic mentioned here is Cleanth Brooks, and much of the idea put forth here is found articulated much better in his book, William Faulkner, The Yoknapatawpha Country; Yale University; 1963; p. 342.

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