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Bishop’s Sermon to Diocesan
Convention 2001 When death was close at hand on the 11th day of September,
those who had cell phones telephoned family members, spouses, partners and
friends to say, "I love you." In an instant, all of life was focused
on what really mattered: love. Money and possessions, they were as nothing.
Arguments, they were forgotten. Worldly accomplishments, put out of mind. The
men and women at the Pentagon, at the World Trade Center, and in the airplanes,
would have traded everything for life, everything. When death was falling upon Jesus, he looked down from the cross and
saw his mother and John, his beloved. “Woman, here is your son,” he said. And
to John, “Here is your mother.” (Jn 19:26-27). These are the words echoed by
those on the cell phones: I love you, take care of each other, be a family.
They are also the words of the Church: love, compassion, forgiveness. People hunger for the message we offer. They want to know what is
important in life, what does it take to make a difference, is my faith enough,
and what about the things I have done wrong, will I find forgiveness? The Christian message speaks of the worth of every person, of
forgiveness and of life not overcome by death. Jesus is constantly transforming
us, moving us to the center of our being, where his image is most beautiful and
precious. It is from this spiritual center, that God is sending us to the outer
limits of our capacity to love. Isn't that what has stirred our hearts these
past two months: people who went beyond the boundaries of their limitations and
showed a generosity and courage that changed all of our lives? The towers of the World Trade Center, once reflected both the rising
and the setting of the sun, catching the dawn, and bearing witness to the enfolding
darkness. In the aftermath of their collapse the peoples of the world reflected
horror and anxiety, as well as heroic efforts that continue to reveal the
absolute goodness of God inherent in every person. Michaelangelo said, "I saw the angel in the stone and carved to
set it free." Surely, if Michaelangelo can see an angel in the stone, God
sees our goodness, the goodness of all humanity, and with mallet and chisel,
carves to set us free. Jesus pounds away upon chisels of redeeming love and
reshapes us into a community of forgiveness and reconciliation. One of the most important roles of the Christian is to see within the
fractured existence of human life, the image of God waiting to be released. It
is to see within division and animosity the seeds of reconciliation. My greatest hope for our diocese in these uncertain times is that we
maintain this spirit of reconciliation, this posture of openness and respect
towards one another. The Church must be a place where people who hold different
opinions can express their thoughts and feelings without ridicule, or
rejection. None of us possesses absolute truth, however, all of us need to
listen and speak across passionately held beliefs. This is not a call to
agreement, but to respectful listening. Every church must be a
sacred shelter for all people. Our churches, our sacred shelters are places where open inquiry is
valued, where doubts are entertained, where questions are encouraged, where
people can change their mind, and where charity overrides differences of
opinion. Our churches must be safe. A safe church acknowledges human frailty
and offers forgiveness. It appreciates the complexities of life, and is
cautious about proclaiming absolute standards and practices, while
paradoxically seeking the truth that is Christ himself. It is a house where
prayer binds the faithful, and unbinds fear and prejudice. A safe Church for "all," means "all": regardless of
race, ethnicity, sexuality, economic class, intelligence, opinions, color,
native language, marital status, political viewpoints, physical abilities, age,
mental health, ancestry, occupation. In a world beset by religious and ethnic
strife, the Christian must take the risk of following Christ into the heart of
saint and sinner alike, of friend and stranger, of the beloved and the enemy. However, I offer a word of caution. "All" is not synonymous
with "anything." We have a
sacred gift: the Word of God made flesh in Jesus Christ. We have received a
sacred text that directs our life. We have received a holy tradition, revealed
in the mystery of the passion, and through the grace of the Church throughout
the ages. The Church must be a sacred shelter in which all persons can
experience conversion and transformation, so that our common life will reflect
the life and work of Jesus and the apostles. There will always be those who
reject this message. We must allow them to go their separate ways. Let us not
confuse "all" with "anything." And let us not confuse "safety" with "comfort," for
what I am suggesting is that we move from our secure circles of comfort to the
irritating edges of faith, where the Holy Spirit is waiting for our arrival. We carry terrible prejudices, all of us, but we have watched in our own
lifetime how the walls of discrimination have been brought low (paraphrase, the
Rev. Peter Gomes, Chaplain, Harvard University). We have witnessed dramatic
changes in the social fabric of our nation, changes for which members of the
community of faith have dedicated their lives. There are many here today, who
have put the claims of reconciliation and justice above reputation and
acceptance. The integrity of the saints is reflected through those in our own
day who left places of comfort to dedicate their lives to the betterment of
society. Their number is visible here, in our own diocese. If these weeks have taught us anything, it is that we must not love
with a thin love, nor be content with a veneer of happiness, or superficial
affirmation. We learn love from those who, with God's grace, are willing to convert
personal wounds into the power that leads to the renewal of life in all its
forms. I choose to believe that in every group of terrorists or malcontents
there is someone who wants to engage in dialogue. I choose to believe that when
I visit a vestry that is experiencing conflict, there is someone who sees both
sides of the situation. I choose to believe that in every failed relationship
there is a deep desire for reconciliation. Being the community of Christ's beloved stretches every personal
limitation, every hurt and disappointment. Through the power of God's grace, we
have an enormous capacity to mend what has been broken. In a profound way, we
participate in the salvation of the world. Today, overwhelming challenges confront the Church and the global
community. As Anglican Christians we must test the times: questioning, sifting,
seeing light in the darkness and questioning the light itself, in an unending
quest to live a life worthy of Christ's death and resurrection. In his first letter, John reminds us, "Whoever says, ‘I am in the
light;’ while hating a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Whoever
loves a brother or sister lives in the light.” (I Jn 2:9-10) Together, we must
live into this teaching, or together we shall shrink into the dark shadows of
racial, religious and ethnic divisions. The purpose of the Church is to throw the doors open so that those
inside can pass through and be Christ to all people in our communities. This is
one of our great missions: to move the message beyond the building. "…. Love must not be a matter of words or talk says St. John; it
must be genuine, and show itself in action." (I Jn 3:18) Here, in our diocese of Rhode Island, we must move from parochial
interests to a broader understanding of church; from congregationalism to
mutual and regional participation in ministry; from seeking institutional
survival, to being spent in the joy of building God's kingdom here on earth. Let us be sacrificial in our love towards one another and generous in
our giving, reflecting the continual dawn of hope at a time when it is so easy
to be influenced by voices of darkness. Soon, I will take the bread in my hands, and I will break the blessed
body of Christ and proclaim to you that he is sacrificed for us. Jesus knew
that unless the bread is broken, very few are fed. Unless we are willing to be
a sacrificial people, redemption of the world remains only a dream. Unless the
heart is broken, we shall not hear the muffled cries of others. Unless fear is
integrated, it will not give rise to the inspiration that fear can release. There is a great emptiness in Lower Manhattan, and a numbing sense of
loss. Expanses of open space are filled with the dust of cremation, and the
twisted metal of a once majestic frame. A wound has been placed upon the heart
of our nation. As followers of Jesus, we know that space provides opportunity for new
life, and that wounds have the capacity to reveal the brilliance of
resurrection. Today, we stand as towers of faith upon which the sun rises and
sets. In the mirror of that light all things are possible, and we choose to
reflect a passionate and eternal hope whose rays touch the tears of a
distressed and needy world.
211th
Annual Convention of the Diocese
of Rhode Island 27 October
2001 Johnson & Wales Inn, Seekonk, MA | |
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