This is the third in a series of four sermons that will incorporate information on who we Episcopalians are and how we have come to be who we think we are.
This morning, I want to talk about the Roots, the Ropes and the Map.
Last Sunday, I introduced the origins of the Church of England and said something about what it means to be an Anglican vs. a Roman Catholic or a Protestant.
I neglected to give sufficient credit to Thomas Cranmer, who was the author of the first Book of Common Prayer. He was the archbishop under King Henry VIII. It was his prayerbook that was the groundbreaker. In some villages in Britain, when the king’s men brought the new prayerbook, the messenger was actually killed!
People were very serious about their worship and quite a bit of blood was shed before things settled down. It was the keen and very firm hand of Elizabeth I to steadied the boat. In the 45 years of her reign, Britons came to accept the idea that the monarch was now both their queen and the head of their church.
As I mentioned, membership in the Church of England was mandatory and it was literally centuries before any other faith communities were tolerated. The clergy of the day, including the hierarchy of the Church were appointed by the crown. And so, everyone was essentially a civil servant you might say. This is pretty much the same today.
The Church of England did not tolerate diversity nor dissention very well, so you can imagine the reception given the Americans after the Revolution.
In order for the American church to grow (or actually re-grow), we needed some bishops. The mother church had never granted the American colonies that luxury. When the new Americans came to London to ask for a bishop, they were told that an oath to the Crown would first be necessary. Well, that wasn’t going to happen!
We found friends among the Scots up north and in 1789, Samuel Seabury was consecrated the first American bishop by three Scottish bishops. As a thank you to the Scots, our church flag features the St. Andrew cross, the cross of the Scottish Church in the upper corner. The larger, red cross, the St. John Cross, is emblematic of our English heritage. The colors are American red, white and blue.
During the years leading up to the American Revolution, organized religion almost went completely dormant. Deism siezed the minds of many people and the association of the Anglican Church with our overlords in England didn’t help either.
So, after the Revolution, there was much retrenching to be done. The American church would now be called the Episcopal Church in the USA and on into the 19th century built many new churches throughout the western end of the colonies and on out to the frontier. St. Thomas is a good example of one of the many churches planted by Bishop John Henry Hobart.
The early church was founded by many of the same people who shaped our national government, so it should be little surprise that our church government is very similar.
The Church is governed by a General Convention that meets every three years. There are two houses: The House of Bishops would be similar to the Senate, where bishops serve many years. The House of Deputies consists of delegations from every diocese. Each delegation has eight elected members: four lay and four clergy. Any resolution or piece of legislation has to pass both houses to become church law.
On a local level, we are part of a diocese which can be likened to a state. The bishop is like the governor. Each diocese has districts which are like counties. I am the dean of this district, so maybe I’m like a county executive? Then each parish would be like a village or town, with the rector being the mayor.
During the 19th century, a battle heated up between that part of our church that wanted to follow a more evangelical theology and style of worship, and those who wanted to adopt what they called an Anglo-Catholic form. Now, the Church has always had two camps and it still does. “Evangelical” didn’t mean the same as it does today. Evanglicals were not fundamentalists but they did place more emphasis on the sermon than on communion.
The Anglo-Catholics wanted to recapture pre-reformational worship practices that included symbolism, the sacraments, and a reverence for mystery.
Ideological schisms are nothing new. People fought tooth and nail over things like candles on the altar and vestments. I think it’s safe to say that the influences of the Anglo-catholic movement won out, otherwise I’d be wearing street clothes right now.
How we worship has long been at the heart of both disagreement and also what we can be most proud of. The Book of Common Prayer contains brilliant poetry and prose and has been the model for worship in other denominations including the United Methodist and Presbyterian Churches.
Episcopalians love their prayerbook so much that when they finally get around to reading the Bible, they are comforted in the fact that the Bible quotes the Prayerbook so often!
I hope you know that I’m kidding. The BCP, as it is more commonly known, is very Bible-centric and as we go through the lectionary, you can often hear a phrase or sentence that is often used in our worship.
The Prayerbook is that red-covered book in front of you. It contains 1,001 pages which is exactly the amount that will allow it to fit into the pew rack!
Our prayerbook is a more recent edition. In the American Church, we have a tradition of updating our prayerbook and this is the 1979 edition. I would like to tell you just a little about it. First a story.
When I was at the Church of the Epiphany in Rochester, I helped to offer a course on Islam for the parishioners. As we were in between the two invasions of Iraq, there was quite a bit of interest.
We listened as our Muslim speakers told about their daily prayer practice—of stopping and saying prayers at certain times of the year.
The parishioners immediately wanted to know if Christians (specifically Episcopalians) did the same.
This, of course, revealed that they had never really looked at the Prayerbook. In it you will find prayers for morning, noon, evening, and nighttime.
We were caught up short in that our Muslim brothers and sisters were more devout in their daily prayers. And, our religion is 500 years older; we should be ashamed.
If you flip through the book, you’ll see other sections devoted to prayers (we sometimes call them Collects), liturgies for special days (such as Ash Wednesday), and Holy Baptism, Holy Eucharist (or communion), the Pastoral Offices (other sacraments), the Psalter (where all the psalms live) and in the back is the Catechism which is the place where some of the most basic questions of our faith are answered.
Some of you will notice that today we will be using Rite I of the two Eucharistic settings. Rite I contains the Elizabethan language of earlier prayer books. The previous 1928 Prayerbook had ONLY this language.
When the so-called new Prayerbook was written, there was a major shift from the language of unworthiness in Rite I to the more affirming tone of Rite II.
In Rite II, I always make reference to the fact that Jesus’ sacrifice allows us to STAND before God (as opposed to groveling).
Right in our own parishes, we see vividly the transition between the two prayer books played out in whether people kneel or stand for the consecration prayers. Kneeling came into the church in the 18th and 19th centuries; it has not always been the norm. Standing is actually an older posture—Jesus would have stood to pray; but kneeling is just as acceptable.
In today’s Old Testament reading from the third book of the Bible, we are reminded of the posture before God that is designed to remind us of God’s role in our history.
God told Moses that at the beginning of each harvest, people are to bring a portion of the first fruits of their labor (later known as a tithe) and present it to the priest at the Temple.
This was to be a symbolic reminder that “All things come of Thee O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.” Sound familiar?
This may give you a new appreciation for the incredibly long tradition of bringing a portion of God’s bounty to the altar just before our sacred meal.
Bringing the token portion of one’s bounty to God, helped to remind everyone that they owe their very safety and existence to God.
The reading of the scriptures every Sunday remind us that we are part of a very long story—a story that continues, literally thanks be to God.
The Jews rehearsed their exodus story every time they gathered for worship or a meal. In today’s New Testament reading, Paul is reminding the church in Rome that Christians must not forget their exodus experience either.
This is right in line with what Lent offers us. And it is that tether to God that Jesus offers us.
And it is that story that Paul refers to when he says, “The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart.”
This past Wednesday we struck out into the desert spaces alongside Jesus, receiving a cross of ashes on our forehead, or on our heart, to begin the Lenten season.
Ash Wednesday calls upon our humanity. It reminds us that we are but dust and to dust we shall return. It reminds us of our own fragility.
Today’s scriptures call to mind that same tenuous grasp we hold on life.
In the psalm, we are called to trust in God’s mercy, to take refuge in the Lord. The fragility that we experience in our lives does not need to stir up fear and anxiety in us. We are freed by faith to take refuge, to trust, to be held safe in the arms of grace—to grasp the tether.
And finally Paul calls us to an incredible, empowering humility. “For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek,” all who confess faith in Jesus Christ are opened to the possibility of life redeemed and reconciled to God. We are not saved by works or by merit, but simply and wholly by that grace that comes from orienting our lives toward Christ.
What will this Lenten season be for you, where you are, on your Christian journey toward Jerusalem? What of thankfulness, trust, and humility will you seek to help you as you progress toward new or renewed life in Christ Jesus?
“The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart”
Let’s look at Jesus’ trip out into the desert. He didn’t strike out into the wilderness with a stack of self-help books, a water bottle or his an ab circle pro machine. He was “driven out” by the Spirit, so we might assume he left in a bit of a hurry: his wallet, cell phone, and keys still on the nightstand, you might say. His journey into the wilderness was definitely a test. And like most tests, he couldn’t use his notes. ou might say he was naked, that is, stripped down to simply his self.
Faced with the incredible temptations of his human frailty, the devil offered the easiest defense against that frailty: the ability to control – to create food where there is none, to rule with power, to defy his physical nature. But instead, Jesus stood firm in his humanity, clothed only with thankfulness, trust, and humility.
Thankful for the nourishment that is not food, trusting in the God that does not need testing, and humble enough to obey the law given him by his ancestors and inspired by God, Jesus resisted temptation and in doing that prepared himself to begin his ministry. Is there a role model in the room?
Now, for many of us, there is no greater fear than being naked in front of others. We are confronted by so many unrealistic expectations of our bodies in the media that the realness of our own bodies becomes frightening and shaming. I know whereof I speak!
Our lack of control, of youth, of power become reasons for hiding. And not just literally, physically. We hide behind our fears, and we hide behind our scars.
It is natural in a world that is struggling to accommodate so many people that each of us as individuals can actually become invisible. And when we become invisible, it’s easy to run into us, like furniture in a darkened room. We are so good at hiding.
This Lent challenge yourself, not to be more of who you feel the world is calling you to be: the easy and unrealistic thinner, fitter, smarter, or faster. Perhaps not even who your community or your family are calling you to be!
I challenge you to be spiritually naked, to confront yourself with whom your God is calling you to be: frail, humble, thankful, trusting…human.
What does ‘human’ look like?
It can be hard to see ourselves in a natural, liberating light. But this Lent, look. Try! Perhaps that is as far as you will get this Lent, to look upon yourself. Perhaps that is as far as you need to get!! God will let you know.
Have faith, there is a triumphant entry coming around April 4; a table full of friends, a cross and an empty tomb waiting for every one of us.
But for now, in the meantime, in this Lenten time, simply look, and remember that the Word is so very near to you, “on your lips and in your heart.”
Amen.
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