What It Means to Be an Episcopalian, Part Four

This is the fourth and last in a series of sermons that has incorporated information on who we Episcopalians are and how we have come to be who we think we are.

I’ve been drawing from a variety of sources, but most often from a book entitled Jesus was an Episcopalian (and you can be one too) by the Rev. Chris Yaw.

If you look at our history, one might say that we have defined who we are more by who we aren’t. This has become apparent to me when I’ve taught confirmation classes for adults. Their point of reference tended to be either Protestant or Roman Catholic and it was my job to define what it was to be an Episcopalian against those two poles. So, perhaps we do define ourselves by who we aren’t.

Popular culture often dismisses the Episcopal Church by what it isn’t as well. How many times have you heard people say that we are “Catholic Lite,” or maybe “The Catholic Church but without all the guilt”?

I can imagine there are those on the fundamentalist end of the spectrum who say that we are obsessed with being too politically correct and therefore have lost our moorings.

As I said in sermon number two, we tend to be a church that sees our belief system more as a rudder than as an anchor. With a rudder, we can leave the port and explore the world. With an anchor, you don’t get around much.

We also believe that God is not finished speaking and he continues to “make all things new” through us.

So today, I want to say something about who we are becoming, who we might be…next year, next decade, on into the future. IF THERE IS A FUTURE!

You don’t have to look far to see or hear predictions of the end of the world. Why, just this morning (!) I turned on the television and there it was. I think the History Channel must be owned by End Times fanatics, as every other program has something to do with this prediction or that. Have you noticed that?

There is a whole cult now around the prediction that there will be a cataclysmic change to the world on December 21, 2012, based on predictions made in the Mayan calendar. That date just happens to be the Feast of St. Thomas. I seriously believe that we should begin planning one huge party. Let’s plan to party (or, it won’t matter).

In some Christian circles the words “prophet” and “prophecy” conjure up all sorts of images based on these end-times predictions. Many think of Jesus’ return on a white horse, “the Rapture” or the final bloody battle of Armageddon! There’s a ton of speculation and many are getting rich trying to scare people.

There are even bumper sticker wars. On one side you might see this: “In Case of Rapture This Car Will be Unmanned!” On the other side you might see: “In Case of Rapture I Get Dibs on Your Car!”

Episcopalians believe the universe is in God’s hands and whatever’s going to happen should be faced with hope, courage and joyful expectation.

In today’s readings, we have two examples of God’s habit of drawing near. Abram is shown the stars and told that his descendants will be as numerous. What we don’t hear is that Abram and his wife Sarai were very old. To be told that you were going to give birth, was nothing short of miraculous.

Something tells me that when Abram stood and look up at those stars, he must have felt God’s love quite intimately. God’s habit is to draw near. This God who created light with a single command is also a God who will not let us go.

As far as I’m concerned, there seems to be no good reason for God to draw near to us except God’s sheer love for his creation. Also, there appears to be no traceable rule that drives God to become flesh in Christ. The eternal question: why did God do this? Admitting that we are broken, frail, prone to war and death, we confess that we do desperately need this incarnation of God.

Friends, there is no other reason for God to become bone and blood, and vulnerable, other than God’s magnificent love. Jesus did not come down out of revenge or one-upmanship, or to settle a score. After having decided to whisper everything into existence, from our breath to the stars above, to shape time and hope, God has also chosen to take on our lives with all our quirks, sins and stubbornness. God’s habit is to draw near—out of sheer love. Lent is a season in which to look at ourselves and see just how much closer WE have moved toward God.

God has sent an icon for that in the shape of Jesus. There is no greater icon and this one is free, willing, and coming at us with the speed of the prodigal son’s father as long as we so much as look in his direction.

The Bible is a record of God’s faithfulness and our doubt, God’ unimaginable love for us and our inability to let go of ourselves to live fully in that love or trust that, despite appearances, God will not leave us or fail us.

In Christ, God longs to gather all his children, as a hen gathers her brood. Only a deep, resistant, equally stubborn and foolish love can speak like this; only a love that is willing to give all, risk all.

Only a God who enters into death can promise that there is nothing in the whole universe that can separate us from who God is.

And what is our response?

I’m here to tell you that there are prophets among us, prophets in the Episcopal Church even, right here in River City! These prophets are beginning to stand up and tell the Frozen Chosen that we must speak truth to power, that we must speak justice to oppression.

We must support the soup kitchen, but we must move on to threaten the causes of poverty and fear…with Christian activism. Just one avenue for acting on this prophesy was the creation of Episcopal Relief and Development, which we’ll hear about more in just a few minutes.

What does it mean to be an Episcopalian today? It means living into God’s promise to make all things new—to trust that God has a better world in mind and that we have been given the gifts to help bring it about. This is part of our baptismal vow. We respond with “I will” to the command “to strive for justice and peace among all peoples” and…”respect the dignity of every human being.” (BCP 304)

If I could sum up the greatest characteristic of transition within the Episcopal Church, it would be that I’m seeing a small band of disciples striking out in both local and global ways to respond to God’s love.

We are doing this by not wasting time trying to enforce the rules concerning who is and who isn’t inside the fence. Instead, we are climbing over any fences and going out into a world that so desperately needs us. In Christ, we know that God did not want to remain in the heavens. In Christ, we know that we must not remain in our comfort zones for the sake of a needy world.

In the book that I referenced earlier, there is a list that some seminarian posed. Here are ten things that he/she thinks we should be doing as we wait for that final day, whether it is two years from now, or two millennia.

1. Be a pilgrim. Chose some place, either physically or spiritually, and set out on the journey. Make sure you are going somewhere. Expect surprises along the way.
2. Incorporate outreach goals into your personal and church budgets. Use the United Nations Millenium Development Goals as a jumping off point.
3. Eat ice cream. A spoonful is known to trigger the part of the brain known to activate when people enjoy themselves. Combine this with a ride on a swing set.
4. Be a minister, regardless of whether or not you wear a collar.
5. Plant a tree. There will be substantial significance to planting a seed and watching it grow into something that will stand long after you are gone.
6. Do what you can do to make soup kitchens unnecessary.
7. Be reconciled with everyone. Go and find estranged relatives and friends and begin the work of forgiveness. Offer it and receive it.
8. Gather some friends and watch a good documentary movie. Challenge yourselves to change one thing about the way you live for the sake of future generations.
9. Tithe. No, seriously. Getting to this ancient level of giving will transform your sense of community and ideas about what really belongs to God.
10. Join life. Pray ceaselessly. Go skinny-dipping. Sing boldly in the shower and in church! Don’t wait for the Second Coming in the cowering position. Refuse to be terrified. If we love God, we trust God.

Friends, God chose to enter into our particular time and place and love us with a wild and magnificent love, even though we are difficult creatures to love. And ever since, the universe has been jarred: dust is still flying, surprises abound, and miracles happen.

Lent helps us remember that all our sorrows and our hopes are taken into God through Christ.

The only thing that remains fixed, the sole certainty in this uncertain world, is a heartbreaking promise, that magnificent love.

What will we do to take a few more steps in that direction?