Paul wrote:
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
“For your sake we are being killed all day long;
we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 8:35-39 – July 10, 2012)
My church, the Episcopal Church meeting in its 77th General Convention, took two incredibly large steps today which, I believe (and hope and pray), will make us conquerors. First, the House of Deputies unanimously passed a resolution to set in motion a process for re-imagining and possibly restructuring the church. Second, the Deputies voted by a 3-to-1 majority (in both the clerical and lay orders) to concur in an action of the House of Bishops adopting a provisional rite for the blessing of the life-long committed relationships of couples of the same sex; the Bishops had approved the rite by a greater than 2-to-1 majority. Although the second action will get (and has already gotten) by far the greater press coverage and will generate the greatest amount of “heat” and public interest, it is the former that is of greater importance. ~ In preaching on this passage, a former mentor of mine often said that the most important potential obstacle included in the “anything else in all creation” that cannot separate us from God in Christ is . . . ourselves. In passing the resolution to re-imagine and restructure the church, the General Convention has said that we will get out of the way; we will get out of the Spirit’s way, we will get out of our own way! ~ There is much work to be done, but it seems to me that the hardest work will be the letting-go and stepping-aside . . . letting go of old ways of doing and being church, letting go of expectations of how it has been done and how it ought to be done, letting go of office and power by those who have governed the church for generations, letting go of the hurt and pain of change . . . stepping aside to allow new leaders to come forward, stepping aside to let the Holy Spirit come in, stepping aside to free the center to be filled with something new and different. ~ I commend and congratulate the bishops, lay deputies, and clergy who made this decision and have the hard work of letting-go and stepping-aside to do. I pray for the new generation of leadership that will lead the re-imagining and restructuring; I hope that I can join them in the effort. And I remind them that “we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.
Stenagmoi alaletoi is the Greek for what is here rendered as “sighs to deep for words.” Another translation might be “groanings not to be uttered.” Just a few verses before, Paul has used the root verb to describe the whole of creation as “groaning in labor pains” and specifically Christians who “groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” (vv. 22-23) ~ This is not simply a sigh (I think that translation understates Paul’s meaning), this is a troubled lament, an anxious longing, a deeply distraught sense of inexpressible misery. And it is here in the deepest recess of human sadness and frustration that we encounter God; it is here where God joins us in the struggle, where humankind no longer wrestles with God but God joins us in our wrestling with existence, with our weaknesses, and aids us in overcoming them; the Spirit intercedes joining, and perhaps giving voice to, our inarticulate groanings. ~ When we are unable to voice our prayers, God nonetheless understands. Once, when I was in seminary, I asked that prayers be offered at Evensong for the repose of the soul of friend who had just passed away. The person leading the prayer service did not know me and, apparently unable to read my handwriting, identified the deceased as a “friend of Ernie Funston” (which occasioned some chuckling from friends and colleagues). On the way out of the chapel, one of my professors assured me, “Don’t worry. God has spell-check on prayers.” I think that’s Paul’s meaning here. We may only be able to offer only the incomprehensible and indistinct sobs of the deeply troubled, but God searches the heart with God’s spell-checker.
The readings for the Daily Office on a Sunday depart from the daily flow of the lessons for the rest of the week; they are also unrelated to the lessons in the Eucharistic lectionary (especially since our adoption of the Revised Common Lectionary). On Sundays in recent weeks, those who recite the Daily Office have been treated to excerpts, like this, from the Book of Acts. I’ve set out the whole of today’s lesson, instead of simply quoting a verse or three, because of the symmetry of the passage: we start with magic (Paul creating magical amulets of handkerchiefs and aprons) and we end with magic (magicians burning their valuable grimoires). I find this sort of biblical pericope troubling and difficult to handle. ~ Many Christians wear crosses and medallions, carry prayer cards, wear scapulars, and use “prayer napkins” blessed by bishops, priests, revivalists, and television evangelists. The tradition of the church teaches that these talismans derive their power, not from anything inherent in or given to the object, rather from the firm faith and Godly devotion of the believer. But the handkerchiefs and aprons described here by Luke, the author of Acts, seem more like fetishes, given healing powers through what can only be called contagious sympathetic magic; these objects touched Paul, now they heal – the belief or faith of the sick person healed has nothing to do with it. ~ At the end of the passage, we are told that many “who practiced magic” became believers and burned their books of spells. They seem to have done so not through any conversion, but because Paul’s magic was greater than their own. ~ I’ve read several commentaries and sermons exegeting this passage, and all attempt to differentiate Paul’s “sweat rags” (as one might also translate the original Greek) and working aprons from magical talismans, but all, in my opinion, fail. Luke’s story boils down to “our magic is better than their magic.” In the 21st Century, I find that singularly unhelpful! ~ But here’s what this story makes me think about: contagious sympathetic magic is supposed to pass magical power from one person or object to another that it touches; I don’t think that actually happens, but I know that faith can be contagious, passing from one powerfully faithful person to others whose lives and hearts he or she may touch. And that powerful faith can set hearts on fire rather than books (don’t get me started about burning books)! It is neither through magic handkerchiefs nor through burning grimoires that the word of the Lord spreads and grows mightily and prevails: it is through shared faith setting hearts on fire for Christ.
Disclaimer: I adore the Summary of the Law! If there was one thing in the liturgy of the Episcopal Church that just grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go when I first encountered it as a high school freshman, it was the Summary of the Law. And if there is one thing that disappoints me about the 1979 American prayer book, it is the removal of the Summary of the Law from the standard Sunday service of Holy Communion. So this is an admittedly biased suggestion. ~ A few days ago I responded here to the Episcopal Presiding Bishop’s proposed budget for the church’s next triennium, noting that she had created it around the Anglican Communion’s five “Marks of Mission.” That’s a good idea. My response suggested that something lacking in the five marks is any specific mention or theological reflection acknowledging that those marks are based in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. A reader took me to task noting that at least the first two imply a Christian basis, and I agreed. But the third, fourth, and fifth do not; I think the church should explicitly say how those marks contribute to the spread of the Gospel. ~ Here’s a simple suggestion for testing the ministries of the church, its structures, its programs, everything it says and does: test them against the Summary of the Law. For example, let’s say the church budgets $500,000 to promote “environmental justice”. Fine, that seems to fit the fifth mark of mission, which is “to strive to safeguard the integrity of creation and sustain and renew the life of the earth.” Next question: In what way does a program to promote “environmental justice” evince the church’s love for the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our mind? Or how does it encourage and enable the church’s people to do so? And if it doesn’t . . . let’s move to the second question: In what way does such a program enhance our love of neighbor as self? ~ In parishes, especially as parishes develop vision and mission statements, set goals, and adopt budgets, we are often encouraged to test our programs against our goals. Does this parish activity support the vision, mission, and primary goals of the congregation? If not, can it? And if not, can it! It seems to me the national church could test its budget and programs in the same way, not against some vision committee’s product, but against the vision and mission set by our Founder: the Summary of the Law together with the Great Commission. Unless someone can lay out a simple apologia for a budget item, making it plain how that expenditure gives witness and support to love of God or love or neighbor, or contributes to the making of disciples, that item ought to be challenged. ~ Structure the budget around the five marks of mission, good idea. But test the structures and programs in the budget against the vision and mission of the Founder: love God, love neighbor, make disciples! A summary of the budget ought to pretty well track the Summary of the Law.
We’ve been following the story of Balak and Balaam from the Book of Numbers for a few days, although I’ve not been writing about it here. In truth, I find it a little dull. But Balaam’s words this morning strike me as pertinent to what’s going on in my denomination (the Episcopal Church) in Indianapolis this week: “What the Lord says, that is what I will say.” Balaam will not simply parrot whatever blessing or curse Balak wants; he will say what he understands God to want him to say. ~ A lot of resolutions are being debated at the General Convention and many of them will be referrals to standing or special committees and task forces with instructions for study and report. That’s all well and good, some actions of the church need study and careful consideration before they are taken. But all too often these referrals are not for disinterested and unbiased reflection. Take, for example, the question of whether the church should bless the committed relationships of couples who are of the same sex (“same-sex marriage” as some call it). ~ Before I continue, I need to be on record as believing that the church should offer such blessings, just as we do for committed couples of opposite sexes. ~ It is likely that some committee (the Standing Liturgical Commission, probably) will be asked to study the question of our theology and understanding of marriage. Good. But it will probably, in the same resolution, be tasked (in fact, I think there’s a resolution pretty much saying) to report back with suggested liturgies for such blessings. Bad. The outcome of the theological study is simply presupposed in the task! This isn’t a resolution to study the theology of marriage; it’s a resolution to provide a theological justification for same-sex marriage. ~ I suspect that another issue before the Convention, whether Holy Communion should be open to those who are not yet bapized members of the Christian faith, will result in a similar “study-and-report” referral. ~ Committees and task forces asked to do that should not also be given the job of preparing materials which can only be based on a pre-supposed outcome. When the Convention does so, it stands in the same position as Balak demanding that Balaam utter the blessings and curses of his choosing. Committees and task forces need to be free, like Balaam, to say not what the General Convention presupposes they will say, but what they understand God wants them to say. ~ By the way, Balaam had a donkey who could see angels and who tried to steer him away from danger. Most committees also have an ass or two who can do the same thing; pray God they do their job! ~ (Parenthetical closing remark: I don’t otherwise suggest that our committees emulate the confused, untrustworthy, and idolatrous Balaam, a man whom Peter described as being one who “loved the wages of iniquity” [2 Peter 2:15]. But insofar as he spoke God’s message without bias, go for it!)
This psalm is actually optional for Morning Prayer, but it’s one I rather like, so I included it today. This psalm is a song of God’s abundance. Brotherhood and unity are likened to flowing oil and falling dew. ~ First, the oil. This is “fine oil” or, as another translation renders it, “precious” oil. The Hebrew is from the same root as used repeatedly in Genesis when God describes creation as “good”, towb. This isn’t just any oil! And it flows in copious quantities. This is not just a small amount dabbed on a forehead, such as the church does in the rite of chrismation at baptism or in the anointing of the sick; this is oil poured liberally over the head, flowing onto “Aaron’s beard”, and spilling onto robes. The Hebrew word peh meaning “edge” is here rendered as “collar”, but in older translations it was given the meaning “skirts”, which underscores even more the more the image of profligate abundance. ~ Then the dew. Look at a map of the Holy Land. Mt. Hermon is in southern Syria about 150 miles north of Jerusalem (“Zion”). Dew falls on the mountain in sufficient quantity to run off and water the hills of Zion far to the south. Again, profligate abundance! ~ Today is the start of the Episcopal Church’s 77th General Convention. Coincidentally, the Presbyterian Church USA is in the midst of its similar General Assembly. My prayer today is that brotherhood (is there a non-sexist term that conveys the same idea? – “siblinghood”?) and unity will be abundant and will prevail as the church seeks a path forward to carry out its mission of extending God’s blessing to all.
Don’t the words of the priests and elders ring false? “We don’t know.” Matthew doesn’t tell us that they did know, but I think they did, or at least had a pretty good idea. I think they knew (or had a pretty good idea) that John was indeed a prophet, that his message of baptism and repentance was “from heaven” as Jesus puts it here. ~ I don’t think there’s anything wrong with answering “I don’t know” when that is, in fact, the case. I once had a parishioner who (it seemed to me) was constantly asking, “What will happen when we die?” My answer was always, “I don’t know, Martha. I haven’t been there yet. But here’s what our faith teaches . . . .” If the priests and elders truly didn’t know, they could at least have answered in this way: “We don’t know, but this is what we think . . . .” But they didn’t even do that. ~ Jesus constantly calls the religious authorities out for hypocrisy. He plays no favorites, either. Pharisees and Sadducees, priests and scribes, elders and rabbis, Jewish authorities of every sort feel the sting of his condemnation. A lot of books and blogs on the practice of ministry say, “It’s OK to say, ‘I don’t know’.” And it is when that is truly the case; in fact, if you don’t know, it’s better to say so than rely on some hackneyed-and-probably-inappropriate cliche or to make up some BS on the spot. But Jesus here is suggesting that it’s not OK to say “I don’t know” when you do know, or you have a pretty good idea; in that case, it’s rank hypocrisy. 
Our first reading this morning is from a little book from the Apocrypha called The Book of Wisdom. At one time church tradition ascribed authorship to King Solomon, but it is now believed to have been written sometime in the first or second century before Christ by a Greek-speaking Jew of the Diaspora. It is found in the Greek-language version of Jewish scriptures, not in the Hebrew version, and is therefore not considered as canonical scripture by Jews or by Protestants. Roman Catholics and the Eastern Orthodox do accept it, and we Anglicans take a middle course, saying that we read them “for example of life and instruction of manners; but yet [we do] not apply them to establish any doctrine.” (Articles of Religion, Art. VI, BCP 1979, pg. 868). Well, here’s an example of life, then:
