With the beginning of this liturgical year, way back on the first Sunday of Advent, St. Mark’s, along with most of the congregations in The Episcopal Church, followed the mandate of General Convention to change our list of weekly readings from the one found in the book of Common Prayer to the list called the Revised Common Lectionary. This has resulted in some interesting new combinations of scripture to guide our Sunday reflections, for which many preachers are grateful.
Today’s gospel portion is a new combination of two segments that have special meaning for me. The first segment was the assigned gospel for my senior sermon at seminary. My seminary, the Church Divinity School of the Pacific in Berkeley, follows the tradition of celebrating the Holy Eucharist every weekday. On most days, the preacher is a member of the faculty or a visiting clergyperson. On Tuesdays, however, senior seminarians are the preachers. These are not our first sermons ever, thanks be to God. We preach in our homiletics classes. We preach in our field ed parishes. Sometimes we preach in our sponsoring parishes. These are not our first sermons, but it’s the only time we preach to the entire school at chapel. It’s a big deal. Everyone shows up. All the faculty. All the students. It’s a very big deal, and I was the first of my class to preach. I was paralyzed with fear. I struggled for three weeks to write the sermon, and on the big day, I consoled myself that at least I would have nowhere to go but up following this sermon. When the service began, my knees were shaking as I walked to my chair. As the service progressed, my heart began pounding harder and harder and faster and faster. I was overjoyed. Thank God, I thought, I’m going to have a heart attack right here and someone else will have to worry about preaching.
There were many times on the road to ordination and in all the days since when I’ve felt under the microscope, but I knew very clearly that day that preachers have no secrets. We bring all that we are to the pulpit, and it’s all out there for everyone—including ourselves—to see.
The second segment—beginning “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth” was the gospel nine years ago today, the day after I was ordained to the transitional diaconate. My mother was in the congregation that morning, and her concern for me related to my career change was very present to me. As I preached that morning, I knew that despite the uncertainty of the path before me, following the call to ordination—giving up the life I had known—was the only way for me to live fully.
Yesterday I attended the ordination of our two newest transitional deacons, Shelley Denney and Julie Nelson. Both Shelley’s and Julie’s lives have been turned upside down in the last few years. Each has had difficult choices to make. Both have been immersed in a long period of discernment of their calls to ministry. Their communities played an important part in that discernment, because the people who see and interact with us have the ability to see us as we cannot see ourselves. They see our gifts and our strengths. They also see our weaknesses and our growing edges. We can keep information about ourselves private, and it’s important that we maintain appropriate boundaries, but we cannot hide the essence of our selves from those around us.
On the larger screen, another very visible drama is being played in full sight of the world. The struggle within the Anglican Communion seems to be coming to the point where increasingly difficult choices will need to be made. This week, some 1000 people will be gathering in Jerusalem for a meeting called the Global Anglican Future Conference. These folks, including Archbishop Peter Akinola of Nigeria, as well as formerly Episcopal priests who are in litigation concerning Episcopal Church property, describe the conference as a pilgrimage back to the roots of the Church’s faith. Some of the bishops in attendance have said that they will not be attending the Lambeth Conference, which gathers bishops of the Anglican Communion every 10 years for study, prayer and discussion and which will convene July 16. The host of the conference, Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, has stated that he hopes differences over sexuality can be resolved and that the Lambeth Conference can be a trust-building event where the bishops can manage the issues in such a way that they don't split the communion apart and isolate us from one another. In preparation for the conference, Katharine, our presiding bishop, has asked that all congregations pray today for the bishops who will meet together next month. And make no mistake, the watching world will see whether the essence of our faith is the tradition that keeps power in place or the justice and reconciliation that Jesus preached.
Jesus said, “Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.” He also said, “I have not come to bring peace but a sword.”
Jesus gives his disciples these warnings—or, depending on your perspective, this reassurance—during the course of a long warning about rough times to come. He knows that the disciples are going to be attacked from all sides by people armed with incomplete information and half-truths.
He knows that they will be threatened by people who don’t understand what they are doing. He knows that the relatively easy days of teaching and preaching are coming to an end. He knows that the persecution will soon begin in earnest. He knows also that the sword he brings will open the deepest places in our lives and let the light shine into our darkness.
God’s love doesn’t protect us from the difficulties of our lives. God’s love for us doesn’t change the way the world works. But God’s love for us—just as we are—does strengthen us for living into our baptismal covenant, for doing the work we are called to do, for telling the Good News through our words and our lives. And so Jesus encourages us to bring all we are to the one from whom no secrets are hidden—to be challenged and strengthened—inspired and comforted by the God who loves each of us exactly as we are and never stops calling us to be the persons we are created to be.
Thanks be to God.