On the Eucharist - Pentecost 11 (August 16, 2009)

The following sermon was preached by Fr. Jack Holman, Associate Rector of The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Tomball, TX.

Proverbs 9:1-6
Psalm 34:9-14
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

Eating alone in silence is not the option of choice for most of us. Human loneliness is graphic in large cafeterias in our area. It just isn’t natural not having someone to talk to, someone to share with. We feel profoundly for the poor lonely men and women who must eat their meals by themselves. Somehow they seem cut off from the rest of the human race. The message of the Eucharist is that we need never eat alone. Sure, on occasion or even frequently we may have to take our meals by ourselves, but we are never really alone because Jesus is with us. Jesus, who fed the multitudes, Jesus who enjoyed the table fellowship of his apostles is the very same Jesus who is with us not merely in the Eucharist meal but wherever we are and wherever we go. No matter how alone or cut off we may feel, Jesus shares the table with us. Saying Grace emphasizes this. The Eucharist means that Jesus has come to eliminate loneliness from human life. Even though occasionally we may be alone, as long as we believe in the love which Jesus manifested when feeding the multitudes, we know there is no reason for us to be lonely.

Scripture commentators tell us that while the Last Supper was indeed the last meal that Jesus ate with his followers, before his execution, it was not the first of the “table fellowships” which Jesus shared with them. Eating a meal together had deeply religious significance for all small religious groups in the time of Jesus. Therefore, it is very likely that the fellowships which Jesus shared with his apostles before the Last Supper were religious meals in tone and symbolism. The Eucharistic Rite is described as many things: a sacrament, a memorial, a sacrifice. But above all else, it is a meal and it plays the role as a sacrament, a memorial, or a sacrifice, insofar as it is a banquet. Not just an ordinary banquet; it’s a wedding banquet, a meal that celebrates the love among those who deeply love one another, even though it doesn’t look like any kind of meal at all. Jesus has compared the kingdom of his heavenly father to a wedding banquet and the Eucharist is a union between Jesus and his followers in that kingdom

Furthermore Paul compares the love between Jesus and his church to the love between a man and a woman. The Eucharist is a celebration of the union between Jesus and his church. Saying that it is a celebration of a passionate love does not seem to be an exaggeration. We sing and celebrate the Eucharist because we are convinced that God is deeply in love with us.

Those of us, who assemble around the altar to eat the bread of the Eucharist, necessarily and inevitably, commit ourselves to do all we can to eliminate physical suffering in the world. Hunger, poverty, ignorance, sickness, misery—none of these have any place in the world in which the Eucharistic banquet is celebrated. Now we are under no illusion that they can be eliminated immediately; nonetheless, as Christians we must consider ourselves committed to do all in our power to overcome physical suffering. Just as Jesus did, we must take compassion on the multitudes, even if we realize our compassion is not going to be completely effective. The war on poverty began not in Washington but along the shore of the sea at Tiberias twenty-one centuries ago.

This is not to say that there is any specific way of “feeding the hungry” which every Christian must follow; much less to say that specific legislation is endorsed by the gospel. But it is to say that every Christian must be profoundly concerned about hunger—or any other kind of human misery—where ever it occurs, and must do all that he can to work for its elimination. Theologians tells us: Non salus sine pauperes: There is no salvation without the poor!

We don’t minimize the importance of the theological controversies raised over the Eucharist down through the ages, but there is a danger that these controversies may blind us to the basic message of the Eucharistic banquet. We need only to take Jesus at his word that this bread and this wine is his flesh and blood and that we are in communion with Jesus and his work when eating this bread and drinking this wine. We are brought into contact with a new life, a life which is the ‘springtime of the world”. It does make us an integral part of the great historical process which began on Sinai and was renewed in the Upper Room. It does give us a share in the sacrifice and suffering of Jesus and it does promise us ultimate reunion with Jesus in the new life of the Resurrection.

Neither the theological discussions going on thru the centuries, nor the exegetical considerations, should cause us to overlook the message of Marks’s gospel: Where he writes: “He who eats the bread of the Eucharist is really in communion with Jesus and is working together with him in fulfilling his covenant”. Let’s not overlook the familial nature of the Eucharist. Then and now it was a family banquet, a small intimate gathering of a group of close friends. Early Christians, whatever their understanding of the precise relationship between the Lord’s Supper and the Passover, were quite aware that the Lord’s Supper was a gathering of people who loved one another. In other words, the covenant of Jesus was a covenant rooted in a love feast of a group of intimate friends To the extent that Eucharistic banquets do not manifest this profound affection which Jesus and his apostles felt for one another, they are less than adequate symbols of what the Eucharist really means. We may not always know the person next to us and that’s unfortunate, but if we are not prepared to love that person or anyone else in church, then we simply do not understand what the Eucharist means-no matter how sophisticated our theology or our exegesis may be.

We humans hunger after meaning, hunger for purpose and faith. We can understand how the Good News of Jesus can protect us from ever being spiritually hungry again. The purpose and meaning that the Good News puts into our life, makes it impossible for us to drift into chaos and confusion. It is not merely a banquet of wisdom as stated in Proverbs. It’s a kind of unity with God and his Messenger for which there was no preparation in the OT. It is obvious that Jesus is speaking of a form of union with God that is quite new. The Eucharist represents the most intimate union that is possible between Jesus and us, between God and us through Jesus. The love of Jesus for his followers was such that he would remain, somehow or other, present with them through the Eucharist, bringing life now, not only through his teaching, but by his presence! Case closed!

"The Bread from Heaven" - Pentecost 10 (August 9, 2009)

1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-52
John 6:35, 41-51

Many of the stories in the Old Testament have an epic character to them, where the forces of good battle against forces of evil. This is no less of our story from 1 Kings. The hero of our epic story is the prophet Elijah – one of the last surviving prophets of God. He is a wanted man, for the wicked Queen Jezebel has been purging the nation of its prophets of Yahweh and replacing them with prophets of Baal. In our Old Testament reading (1 Kings 19:4-8), we see Elijah at a tragic, low point in the story… a low point in his life… ready to give up. At first reading, this seems strange, because he has just won a major battle against the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). However, no sooner had Elijah defeated the forces of Baal than Queen Jezebel resumed her manhunt with renewed vigor, and Elijah is forced to flee into the barrenness of the desert. In the desert, under a solitary broom tree, Elijah falls into a deep depression and asks God to take his life. “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors” (1 Kings 19:4). At this point, God sends an angel to minister to him. Upon waking him, the angel bids Elijah to get up and eat the baked bread lying near him on hot stones. He does this twice in fact. And through this bread, prepared by God’s angelic messenger, Elijah is given the strength, encouragement and endurance he needs for the forty day journey to the mountain of God – Mount Horeb.

Once again the connection between our Old Testament reading and the Gospel appointed for this Sunday (cf. John 6:35, 41-51) is the metaphor of Bread. Our gospel begins with the words of Jesus: “I am the Bread of Life. He who comes to me will never be hungry. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (Verse 35). Bread is an incredibly powerful metaphor, both in Scripture and in the historical narratives of virtually every culture. Bread is as old as culture itself. Anthropologists mark the beginning of civilization with the cultivation of grains – e.g., wheat, rye, barley, rice. Our earliest human ancestors may have had a diet richer in protein, gathering nuts and fruit and hunting game, but it was not until humankind mastered the tilling of the soil for grain crops that human populations could settle into communities and nations. Ancient Rome was just as dependent on the breadbasket of Egypt to advance its dominion as are Western nations today dependent on oil rich countries to fuel modern society and advance modern values and ideals.

You see, there is more to bread than meets the eye or nourishes the body. It is the root of human ingenuity and industry, the fundamental building block of culture. Bread is fundamentally a human “invention,” yet the ability to make bread depends entirely on God’s goodness in creation – i.e., in creating the seeds of the earth, sending the rains, and providing the nourishment to grow. In a very real sense, one could say that the making of bread defines what it means to be human. Yet if this is true, it is true in the sense that it defines what it means to be human in relation to each other and human in relation to our Creator. This is expressed well in the Offertory of the Roman Mass:

“Blessed are you, Lord, God of all Creation: Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made. It will become for us the bread of life. Blessed be God for ever.”

It should not surprise us, then, that throughout the biblical narrative God meets his people in and through bread. The preparation, giving and eating of bread is no less than the juncture of divine and human fellowship – whether it is in the unleavened bread of the Passover meal, the Manna in the wilderness, the showbread in the Tabernacle which David and his men were permitted to eat to replenish their strength, or in the bread that Elijah ate to strengthen his body and replenish his soul. Throughout Scripture, God demonstrates his companionship towards humankind in bread. In fact the words “companion” and “companionship” come from the Latin words “com” meaning “with” and “panis” meaning “bread” – i.e., to partake of bread together.

For Jesus then to make the claim to be “the bread that came down from heaven” would have been astounding to his hearers. Remember these were people who were steeped in these stories from the Old Testament; good Jews who knew that Jesus’ statement amounted to a claim that he was in himself the mediator between God and humankind, that God meets us and communes with us in Jesus. Indeed, our Gospel tells us that it was this claim that caused the crowds to complain about him and disbelieve his message; this same prophet who only a day before had fed the five thousand with five loaves and two fish. “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know?” Is he not a mere man like the rest of us? No doubt they could have accepted Jesus as a good teacher, a rabbi, or perhaps a prophet; no doubt, had he given them the sign they demanded they would even have accepted him as a prophet on par with the great Moses! Even today there are people who can accept Christ as a good teacher or perhaps a prophet. But Jesus claims to be more than this, much more. At one and the same time, his claim is grounded both in the human and the divine. By saying that he is “bread” he is claiming to be fundamentally human (in fact the fundamental human – the founder of a “new humanity”). By claiming to be “from heaven” he claims a divine origination, like the Manna from heaven, and yet much more than Manna that merely feeds for a day. For the Bread that Jesus gives is his own flesh, and the life that he gives through his body is eternal. It is in Jesus, in partaking of him through his broken flesh, that we meet God, that we are strengthened, encouraged, and given eternal life. But more than this…it is in Jesus, in participating in our human condition, that God meets us and solidarity and companionship with God is established.

It is for these reasons that on his last night with his disciples, Jesus gave us the bread and wine of the Eucharist – the holy food and drink of eternal life. Through these actions at the altar, the Church’s primary act of worship together, that we meet the Christ who died for us, the Christ who is risen for us, and the Christ who will one day come again us. This is the Church’s hope and faith. This is our faith as the body of Christ.

"The Bottom Line" - Pentecost 9 (August 2, 2009)

Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
Psalm 78:23-29
Ephesians 4:1-16
John 6:24-35

I recently re-connected with one of my college roommates on Facebook. For the last few weeks, he and I have been reminiscing about college and the apartment we shared with three other guys. Of course we also talked about the things that we used to bicker about, like dirty dishes, house cleaning and food supplies. I was reminded of the many times the four of us would wait each other out to see who go shopping for food. During the lean times we would carefully ration what few food supplies we had – Graham Crackers, Saltines, dill pickles, Cheez-Whiz, Cool Whip, ketchup packets, etc. (We also kept Dominos Pizza very busy!) Sometimes we would go for two weeks before someone would break. On one such occasion, my roommate Billy was scrounging around for something to eat, when suddenly we heard a cry of delight coming from inside the refrigerator: “Aha! A jar of peanut butter!” A moment later, Billy grabbed his coat and keys and made for the door. “Where are you going?” we asked. “You guys win, I’m going shopping,” he replied. “Why’s that?” “Because we’re out of peanut butter, and when you’re out of peanut butter, you’re out of food.” Everyone has a bottom line.

It’s virtually a cultural universal that the metaphors we use for food are whatever happens to be the bottom line; the basic thing you need to stay alive. In many Asian cultures, the word “rice” and the word for “food” are the same. In Melanesia, the same applies to yams. For Billy, it was peanut butter – the one food item, stuffed somewhere in the back of a refrigerator or a pantry, that he could always count on if there was nothing else to eat (unless of course someone had forgotten to throw away the empty jar!).

In English, the word “bread” is often synonymous with food. “Give us this day our daily bread,” we pray in the Lord’s Prayer. Bread also happens to be the biblical metaphor for food, because bread in biblical times happened to be the staple, essential, bottom-line food. If Jesus had been Melanesian, he would have spoken about yams. (Imagine that! "I am the Yam of life!") But bread it is. And bread it was that the crowd was looking for when they sought Jesus on the other side of the Sea of Galilee from where he had so recently fed a crowd of five thousand with five loaves and two fish. When they finally catch up to him in Capernaum, they ask, “Rabbi, when did you get here?” Jesus responds bluntly by pointing to their bottom line: “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves” [cf. John 6:25-26].

Now this response may seem harsh on Jesus' part. After all, they had just been fed by Jesus, and obviously this Jesus was someone who seemed concerned for the hungry, someone who showed compassion on the multitudes. Obviously he also had the power and authority to do something about it! And besides, it’s a good thing to well-fed! Would that everyone in the world had enough to eat every day! None of us would allow a child to go to bed hungry if we had the resources to feed him. This is all very true, and yet Jesus still goes on to challenge this crowd’s bottom line: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal” [John 6:27].

It is evident that the bottom line for Jesus was different than the bottom line for the crowd that sought him out. “What must we do to perform the works of God?” the crowd asks Jesus [John 6:28]; a question that betrays not only their basic misunderstanding, but that of people down through the ages. How often do we look to our needs as the bottom line in our relationship with God? What must we do, what deed must we perform, to get God to fulfill our basic needs? – To fill our bellies and pay our debts? Perhaps the need is little less tangible, e.g., our emotional or relationship needs. And when bread or finances do not miraculously materialize, when emotions and relationships fall apart, we conclude that either we have failed to do something for God or, more often than not, that God has failed us. Was this not Israel’s attitude as they complained to Moses and Aaron? – “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread” [Exodus 16:3].

“This is the work of God,” Jesus answers, “That you believe in him whom he has sent” [John 6:29]. In other words, Jesus reminds us that there is something more basic than food or clothing or any of our material needs; so basic in fact, that Jesus co-opts the very metaphor we use to describe our basic physical needs: BREAD. “Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness,” the crowd retorts. “It was not Moses who gave you bread from heaven,” Jesus says, “But it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” [cf. John 6:31-33].

Now I realize that in an age of uncertainty it is all too easy to focus on our material needs. This is true not only for the poor, but for the rich as well – perhaps more so! J.K. Rowling describes her life before the success of the Harry Potter series as being “as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless,” and yet “… I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”

Now, mind you, we are not presented here with an either/or choice. Jesus is not telling us to make a choice between our bellies and our relationship with God. It is not that we should be unconcerned about the physical, or not trust God to see to our needs. Rather, Jesus reminds us that OUR solid foundation, our bottom line, is a right relationship with God – a relationship that is grounded in our faith in what Christ has accomplished for us on the Cross and in the resurrection – the forgiveness of our sins and a new life in him; a relationship that we re-affirm at this altar each time we gather to partake of his body and blood – the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation. Herein, Jesus reminds us what the true bottom line is for us: “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” [John 6:35].

Bread – the bottom line physically; as it turns out, the bottom line spiritually as well, but not bread that spoils, not bread that fills the belly merely for a day, but the bread that fills us for eternity: Jesus Christ.

The Real Miracle in the Feeding of the Five Thousand - Pentecost 8 (July 26, 2009)

2 Kings 2:42-44
Psalm 145:10-19
Ephesians 3:14-21
John 6:1-21

The Feeding of the Five Thousand is perhaps the most talked about miracle in Scripture. It is the only miracle of Jesus that is recorded in all four Gospels — giving the preacher ample opportunity to preach on it. Considering that three of the gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke (the Synoptic Gospels) – are related to each other in literary terms, this may not seem too important. But the fact one of the distinctive characteristics of John’s Gospel is that the author deliberately leaves out most material from the Synoptic accounts, means that the author thought this miracle important enough to repeat yet again.

Thematically, the Feeding of the Five Thousand is important for establishing a link between the ministry of Jesus and the Old Testament prophetic tradition. The authors of the Gospels were very keen to make the connection between the lives and ministries of great prophets of old, like Moses, Elijah, and Elisha and the One that they believed was the promised Messiah of Israel – the culmination of the Law and the Prophets. This connection is seen in our reading from 2 Kings 4, where the prophet Elisha, during a widespread famine, feeds a hundred people with 20 loaves of barley bread, and afterward there is some leftover. We also see an interchange between Elisha and his servant, who protests the impossibility of feeding so many with so few loaves: “How can I set this before a hundred people?”

Similarly we see Jesus instructing his disciples to feed a large number of people – some 5000 men and with fewer resources, only five barley loaves and two fishes. And like Elijah and his servant, the disciples of Jesus protest beforehand, “Six months wages would not be enough bread for each of them to get a little.” Yet after the feeding, there is enough left over to feed twelve baskets. (Do note that Jesus feeds more people than does Elisha, but then Jesus is the Messiah).

But there is another reason this miracle is among the most talked about in Scripture, and that is because, with the exception of the virgin birth and the resurrection, it is perhaps the most difficult of the recorded miracles for those with critical minds to believe in. Even critical minded people can accept the healing stories of Jesus. After all, they understand that faith has a powerful effect on both spiritual and physical well-being. But multiplying loaves and fish?– This seems more incredible, more difficult to explain away, and so many theories have arisen to explain how it was done.

The most notable explanation is the suggestion that when the boy who had the loaves and fish shared them with others his example inspired others to bring out what they had brought with them and share as well. I’m not going to try to explain how or explain away how Jesus multiplied the loaves and the fish. (I happen to believe in the miracle-stories, so it doesn’t really create a dilemma for me.) What I’d rather spend my time doing is focusing on the lesson that this miracle story is intended to convey – the real miracle of the story if you will. It is a most ordinary miracle, one that all of us can perform; yet one with extraordinary results, leading to other miracles. It is the miracle of compassion.

Think of the story about Elisha for a minute. Here we see a man coming to bring the prophet an offering during a famine. The Talmud informs us that the region of Baal-Shalishah was produced the earliest crops in all of Israel. And so here we see this man, bringing barley bread to Elisha, made from the first ripe grain of the season in all of Israel. It was a faith offering brought to a prophet of God in the hopes that God would, in return, shower his blessings upon the Land.

And Elisha, after receiving the offering, says to his servant "Give it to the people and let them eat, for thus says the Lord, ‘They shall eat and have some left.’" Give it to the hungry ones here with me; feed them, for they need it. But what response does he get in return? He is told it is not possible, there is not enough to go around.

In the four Gospel stories about the feeding of the 5000 we hear something similar. Jesus is teaching on a hillside, and when evening approaches the disciples become concerned. They fear the crowd will go hungry, and their solution is to ask Jesus to send them away so that they will not have to worry about them. But Jesus says to them: “You feed them.” How often would we implore the Lord to send people away from our midst, so that we no longer have to worry about them; people in need, people who are hungry, people who are outcasts, people who do not fit in. “Send them away!” we say. “We don’t want to deal with them; we don’t want to worry about them. It’s not that we don’t want what’s best for them; it’s just that we don’t have the resources to see to their needs. It’s not our gift, Lord.

So Jesus asks Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” Philip replies quite predictably: "Six months wages would not buy enough bread to for each one to have a single bite." Another disciple, Andrew, finds a boy among the crowd with 5 loaves and two fish. “But what are they among so many people?” he asks.

Far too often this is our response to the call of God. Jesus says to his disciples (to us), “You feed them.” Often our response is to point out our lack of resources. “Lord, we are too weak... our parish is too small... our resources are insufficient... How can we help with what little we have? We don't even know how we will we make do ourselves. How can we feed so many? We have so little and the need is so great.”

Well, I have news for you: We will never have enough resources. We will never have the right sets of gifts, the optimum number of people, enough money to do what needs to be done, or sufficient means to meet the needs that exist in the world. Our human efforts and human resources will always fall short of the calling of God. WHY? Because God's call always transcends our resources and abilities, whatever they may be, no matter how "rich" or "poor" we are in human terms. God calls us to go beyond ourselves -- because ministry is not what we do for God, but what God does through us.

And that, my friends, is the miracle of compassion -- the miracle that takes place in the heart of God's people, which is nothing short of exhibiting and manifesting the heart of Jesus towards those who need it most. And when we respond to the call of God we cannot help but be empowered – we become the very instruments that God is able to use to bring relief to the suffering, provision to the poor, encouragement to the oppressed, consolation to the bereaved, hospitality to the outcast. It is at this point that we open ourselves up to see the power of God at work in us and through us.

You see, in the final analysis, the feeding of the five thousand is not primarily about pulling rabbits out of hat; it is not a miracle retold in Scripture to demonstrate the wonder working power of Jesus. Rather, it is a lesson to show us that when we open ourselves up to compassion of Christ and to his call – there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can thwart the will of God or diminish the love of God from being manifest to others in and through our lives.

Standing in the Gap - Pentecost 7 (July 19, 2009)

Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 23
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

“We are called to stand in the gap and that has not and will not change.”(Carol Barnwell, Communications Director, Diocese of Texas, July 2009)

Sometimes we can be very naïve in our reading of the New Testament. We read it with rose-colored lenses, thinking that there were no serious or divisive controversies in the New Testament age – at least none as serious as those which threaten to divide our churches today. Well, I have news for you: there has never been a time in church history when the Body of Christ has not been under the threat of division; and this includes the New Testament age. Today’s reading from the Book of Ephesians [2:11-22] reminds us of this.

Read in light of the controversies of the day (rather than reading it as just another theological treatise) we can begin to appreciate that, in context, this passage was an admonition of sorts. Specifically, it served as an admonition directed towards a predominantly Gentile church – i.e., a church tempted to think too highly of itself as it looked down upon those of Jewish descent, and thus a church in danger of division. The “presenting cause” (if you will) was the Law of Moses and, more specifically, the practice of circumcision which Gentile believers rejected, but which many believers of Jewish descent still regarded as a necessary rite of initiation.

By the time this letter was written, Gentile Christians no doubt outnumbered those of Jewish descent in most places, and were presumably enjoying their newfound preeminence in the Church. But here the author takes the opportunity to remind them that they were once “far off” … “without Christ and aliens from the commonwealth of Israel” … “strangers to the covenants of promise and without God in the world.” After reminding them of their former alien-status, the author proceeds to tell them that there is absolutely no basis or reason for divisions amongst Christians of different backgrounds, because “…Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.”

Once again – this week – we were made painfully aware of how divided our own Church and Communion are. (On a personal note, I tried very hard to ignore what was going on in Anaheim. However, the media and blogosphere managed to break through my self-imposed indifference to remind me of just how close the Anglican Communion actually is to dividing and separating into factions.)

True, the issues of today are very different from those of St. Paul’s day. Nevertheless, we are witnessing the same dynamics at work: people of strong convictions on both sides of serious issues alienating each other, and setting up walls of division between themselves for the sake of preeminence in the church. Somewhere along the way, we have forgotten that “Christ is our peace”; and that in his flesh he has made us one Body, by breaking down dividing walls and abolishing all of our hostilities.

I know it is natural at this point to object to what I am suggesting. After all, if this statement were true (or if it applies to OUR controversies) – i.e., if Christ really has broken down all “dividing walls” and abolished all hostilities through his flesh – then how is it that otherwise sincere Christians still find themselves so divided? Why are there differences of opinion at all? How can it be that the Church of Christ is of two minds on such important matters? I believe the answer can be boiled down to a simple distinction: The difference between “being” and “knowing;” i.e., the difference between “what we are” and “our understanding of what we are.”

Now the dirty little secret in academic circles is that philosophers and theologians have known about this distinction for a long time; indeed, they have built whole careers on it! How this distinction applies to the Body of Christ is quite simple: there is a crucial difference between “what we are in Christ” and how we understand and experience “what it means to be in Christ.” Intuitively, we all know this to be true, especially when it comes to our own personal Christian walks. For example: We so fervently believe in Christ’s victory in our lives! And yet… how difficult is it to live that life of victory? As a tenet of our faith we believe that Christ has conquered sin and death, and yet… we continue to struggle with sin and the prospect of death! Each week we drop to our knees in confession, because we believe that God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins. But if “knowing” was identical to “being,” we would never have to confess our sins because we would never sin!

Individually, we experience salvation as a process. It is process for us corporately as the Body of Christ as well. Hence, if “knowing” was identical to “being,” it would stand to reason that there would no longer be any differences in the Church. Yet as St. Paul reminds us elsewhere, what we know we know “only in part”: “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:9, 12).

It is when one or more parties in the Church confuse “knowing” with “being” that separation and division in the Body of Christ becomes inevitable. It is only a matter of time.

Most of you know I have not always been an Episcopalian. My original ordination was in the Reformed Episcopal Church, a group that separated 136 years ago from the Episcopal Church because they could no longer tolerate differences of opinion in that denomination. However, 136 years ago the controversies were not over homosexual bishops and same-sex unions, but rather whether or not ministers should wear Eucharistic vestments … and whether candles should be placed on the altar … and whether the altar should even be called an altar (rather than a table) … and whether a priest should be called a priest! These issues seem petty and unimportant to us today; indeed, they are no longer important to the Reformed Episcopal Church! But they were important enough at the time to separate from the main body. Though the issues have changed, the underlying problem for the original Reformed Episcopalians is the same one we face today: the confusion of “knowing” with “being.”

When someone or some group insists that they alone “know” or possess the truth they are, in essence, making a claim to be the embodiment of the truth. Recent events clearly demonstrate this. On the one hand, we have the “ultra-conservatives” (for want of a better term) who have so settled the issues in their minds that no amount of potential new evidence, scientific research, or even careful consideration of and attention to pastoral needs could ever dislodge their conviction that not only do they KNOW the truth but that they themselves ARE the truth – that is, that their separate existence apart from the rest of the Anglican world embodies “true Anglicanism.”

On the other hand, what is becoming ever so clear to the rest of the Anglican Communion is that the “elites” and “social activists” in our Church are confusing American-style democratic processes with the voice and leading of the Holy Spirit, and majority voting procedures with the consensus fidelium (i.e., the consensus of the faithful). As a result, our national church ends up ignoring or belittling the legitimate concerns and consensus of the rest of the Anglican Communion, while insisting that the Anglican Communion should accept us on our terms (always under the veiled threat of withdrawing our financial support).

That’s why I’m thankful to part of the Diocese of Texas, and indeed, your priest here at Good Shepherd. You may not always feel like it (and I sometimes might be negligent in telling you), but you are a gift to this diocese; and the diocese as a whole is a gift to The Episcopal Church. Why? Because, as Carol Barnwell (communication director for the diocese) recently expressed it, “We [as a diocese] are called to stand in the gap and that has not and will not change.” As your priest I am here today to remind you that Good Shepherd parish is called to “stand in the gap” as well. I’m not telling you anything you do not already know from your own experience. We live this calling every day. We are keenly aware of the costs and the struggle. It will always be a part of our DNA.

So what does it mean to stand in the gap?

Standing in the gap means guarding and protecting that which has been received by the Church and remaining faithful to our Anglican heritage and consensus. But it also means remaining open to the guidance and prompting of the Holy Spirit, and thus perhaps to the possibility (if only hypothetical) of the emergence of a new consensus on issues that, at present, are controversial.

Standing in the gap means understanding the difference between “knowing” and “being.” It means that if we would ever hope to know the fullness of Christ we must first live into the truth that we – ALL OF THE BAPTIZED (even those with whom we disagree) – are the Body of Christ.

Standing in the gap means standing precisely where others will want to build walls of separation, walls of hostility and division, walls that Christ through his flesh tore down, and refusing to step aside or out of the way.

Standing in the gap means being called to offer ourselves as a bridge of reconciliation to those, on both sides, who cannot see beyond their own prejudices to appreciate the gifts that others of different opinions might bring to the table.