Sermon for May 20, 2007

Did you see the news report concerning the 22 bishops that gathered at St Michael’s on Wednesday?  It’s true, 22 bishops from all over Burke County came on two occasion and assembled in a great and holy synod to solve the problems facing the church today.

Ok, so that’s not exactly how it happened.  Last week we looked at the ecumenical councils, the 7 gatherings of bishops from all over Christendom between the years 325 and 787 AD.  Now I realize that having a history lesson on the ecumenical councils may not be the most entertaining hour of anyone’s life, so we went back to the future.

Using poster board, we cut out mitres, the pointed hat that the bishop wears and we decorated them to our taste, gave ourselves a bishop-y name and I made myself emperor and I convened a mock ecumenical council.  We had 6 bishops at 11am and we hade 16 bishops at 6pm, and you know what, I was surprised at what happened. 

I presented the council with three issues that could face the modern church.  These were issues that were nuanced, complex, and at neither council did we have unity in agreement.  On every issue, arguments were made for each side, and it became very clear that it was difficult to make major decisions that theoretically would affect millions of people.

One of the issues concerned whether are not the Bible is closed.  In other words, can new books, books that are wonderful and inspiring and obviously beneficial, can they be added to the bible.  And if not, why?  What makes something scripture?  Has the Holy Spirit stopped speaking to people and their writings?  What if one of the books attracted new people, young people?  What if these new books were bringing in people that would never darken the church door? 

Or what about this one?  What if some churches started celebrating the Eucharist not with bread and wine, but with a Snickers bar and Diet Coke?  On the surface that seems silly, but the greater question is, can the Holy Spirit make anything into the Body and Blood of Christ?  Does it have to be bread and wine?  And if so, what kind of bread, Sunbeam, wheat, honey-nut, unleavened?  What kind of wine?  Pinot grigio, cabernet, port?  Why not a good chardonnay? 

The questions may seem on the surface to be silly or petty, but once we start to discuss them and think about the theological and practical ramifications, the debate quickly becomes complicated.  The point being – division, whether it’s church division, family division or political division, is always complicated.

As a little boy I remember two sounds that would wake me up in the morning.  From Monday to Friday, I would wake up to the trumpet sounds that signaled the start of The Today Show on NBC.  My mother and father faithfully watched Bryant Gumbell and Jane Pauley and their voices were just as familiar to me as my own parents.  The other voice I would hear as I climbed out of my bed on Sunday morning was that of Jerry Falwell. The Reverend Falwell and the choir of Thomas Road Baptist Church filled my living room as my mother watched “The Old Time Gospel Hour” from Lynchburg, Virginia.

Like him or not, agree with him or not, Jerry Falwell, who died last week, had a great impact on American religion.  If nothing else, he tried to merge conservative theology and conservative politics, to the point that today, any serious conservative political candidate has to visit Liberty University, the school Jerry Falwell founded in the 70s.  For decades, whenever a religious issue would make the news, Jerry Falwell would be on tv.  He was the one that all the networks would interview for his theological commentary.

But at the same time, he was very divisive in Christian circles.  Even though he was in my home every week when I was growing up, there was not much that he and I would agree on.  In fact, there is no much that any Episcopalian would agree on with Dr. Falwell.

I even read on the Internet statements made by some Christians saying things like “Good riddance, Jerry Falwell” and other folks wrote, “I’m glad he’s dead.”

And in the midst of all of this is a prayer that Jesus offered to the Father in John’s Gospel asking that we, you, me, Jerry Falwell, everybody who calls themselves Christian, would be one as Jesus and the Father are one.  This goes beyond the phrase that Rodney King made famous, “Can’t we all just get along?”  This is much deeper than that.  This is more complicated than that.  This is more important than that.

Several months ago, one of the churches in our Diocese had a formal division.  The majority of the vestry members voted to disassociate from the Episcopal Church and to join an oversees Anglican Province.  The majority of the people stayed with the Episcopal Church, but the ones that left were influential and affluent.  In one day, the budget was cut by over $200,000.

The issue was over sexuality and biblical interpretation, but it is more complicated than that.  Because what happened was one best friend left and the other one stayed.  Long time friends took different sides.  Even households were split.  One spouse went to the new church and the other spouse stayed with the old church. 

At this point, it goes beyond theological questions of sexuality, it strikes at the heart of unity and what unity looks like, and what disunity looks like.

But isn’t every division like this?  Has there ever been a truly uncomplicated divorce?  Has there ever been an uncomplicated break-up?  Aren’t there always at least two sides and two perspectives?

How can we even begin to hope that we will be one as Christians, one as families, one as friends when we can’t even talk to each other or sit in the same room with each other or refuse to listen to each other?

Jesus prays that we will be one like he and the Father are one.  This prayer is called the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus.  It is called that because Jesus is speaking to the Father for the people.  He is interceding for them, praying that the Father would join them together in unity of faith and love.  Jesus had just finished the Last Supper and at any moment, Judas would betray him.  Before his arrest, trial, crucifixion and burial, this was his final prayer.  That we may be one – just like Jesus and the Father are one.

Wednesday night when we gathered all of our mock bishops and studied the ecumenical council, we noted that the first ecumenical council further hammered home that Jesus was not a created being or even halfway divine, he was of the same substance as the father, he and the father were one in more ways than just existing in agreement. 

It’s like having five balls of clay.  If we put them together, we still may be able to see where one ball ends and another begins, but if we continue to push the sides together, it will not be long before we cannot tell where one piece of clay ends and another begins.  For all intents and purposes, they are one, organically, and of the same substance.

The only way we can be one with each other as Jesus and the Father are one, is to be mashed up with each other.  God knows that can be painful and it can be messy, but until we get in the “substance” of our neighbor and until our “neighbor” gets in our substance, there is no hope for true, organic unity.

Is there a person you know that is the most cantankerous, ornery, mean-spirited around?  Do you avoid contact with them?  Does this person suck the air out of the room when they walk in?

Why are they that way?  What has happened in their life, what has someone done to them to make them that way?  The only way for us to understand is to get in their substance, to explore their heart and soul, and we can only do that by BEING with them.

Don’t you think that we would be better equipped to handle the great social issues of our day; poverty, crime, immigration, sexuality, if we immersed ourselves into the “substance” of others?  Shouldn’t we walk in their shoes, sleep in their bed, and view the world from their eyes?

Don’t you think that husbands and wives, parents and children, employers and employees, friends and neighbors should spend some time with and in each other?

This doesn’t mean conflict will cease or that there is no right or wrong, but if we are one as the Father and Son are one, we are united in such a way that your love meets my hardship.  Your fears meet my security.  My ignorance meets your wisdom.  Your heart meets my heart.

The First Ecumenical Council, a gathering of bishops who knew that if they came together as an organic unity, invested in the substance of their brother bishops, the Holy Spirit would speak.  And they affirmed that Jesus and the Father are one.

And don’t you think that if we come together, in various forms and ways, as churches, as families, as colleagues, as friends, as lovers, and invest our substance in the substance of the person next to us, don’t you think the Holy Spirit will speak and move?

I recently read a story about two brothers that were joined together at birth.  They were joined at the hip and the brothers had their one sets of arms and legs.  When the parents asked the doctors if they could separate the boys so they may be able to live independently from each other the doctors said they could try, but there is a risk that one, if not both, would die apart from each other.

Because we live in a broken world, we are born separated at birth from our brothers and sisters.  In baptism, we are reunited with our brothers and sisters.  If we continue to try to separate ourselves and remove our substance from the substance of others, if we try to remove our clay from the larger sculpture, then we risk the certainty that separated, we will spiritually die.

But as Christians, we are a people of life, not death.  We are a people of union and not division.  We are a people of substance.

Amen.