PROPERS: SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY
TEXT: LUKE 6:27-38
PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2025.
ONE SENTENCE: An essential lesson of the Gospel is to treat one another with respect.
I want to share a secret with you. I know you can keep it.
We clergy are not perfect. Big surprise, huh?
Garrison Keillor once said that if a minister made such a confession, you immediately start wondering who he is having an affair with and for how long.
But let me burst your bubble. No such confession is forthcoming.
I merely wanted to say that we are not perfect. But we are BIG projection screens.
In my prior vocation as Canon to the Ordinary, I worked closely with clergy. I tried to impart to them some semblance of wisdom distilled from many years in the ordained ministry. In many cases, it was worth exactly what they paid for it.
But I hold on to one bit of insight: We clergy are not as good or as bad as people might think. We are human beings. As such, we have certain faults – all of us. We also have certain gifts – gifts that we try to exercise for the good of the Body.
Honestly, people tend to either put us up on a pedestal or see us as the devil incarnate. And face it – some of us are uniquely gifted and some are just plain duffeses. Regardless, there is a tendency to either project our fondest thoughts or our most scurrilous suspicions onto clergy.
Neither is accurate. Even the most gifted among us has shortcomings. And even the most misbegotten have some gifts to share. I know that, after consulting with congregations and clergy over 16 years. There may be real problems, but almost certainly there will be projections of our own personal perspectives involved.
Trust me. It’s a fact of life.
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Bishop Sean Rowe, the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, preached recently at National Cathedral – some two weeks after Washington Bishop Mariann Budde set the internet on fire with her sermon at President Trump’s National Prayer Service.
Bishop Rowe, who I knew when he was what we call a “baby bishop”, told a story I have told many times. Jody probably heard it when he was in Fresh Start in Mississippi.
It goes this way:
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It seems that an old monastery had fallen on hard times. Whereas many years earlier it had been a thriving monastic community in the countryside. Many prospective monks had made their vows and exercised their vocations there.
But no longer. Only three or four monks remained. The abbot – the head of the monastery – was bereft. No matter what he tried, hard times continued.
At a loss as to what to do, the abbot decided to go talk with a wise of old Jewish hermit who lived near the village. He would seek the wise old man’s wisdom.
When they met, they shared a drink, and the abbot unburdened himself. Then they both wept.
“I’m sorry”, the old man said, “but have no advice for you. I do not know how to solve your problems.”
The abbot stood to leave. As he walked to the door, the old man said, “I do have one insight for you. You should know this: The messiah is one of the monks in your community.”
Walking home, the abbot thought: “Curious. Who could it be? Not me. O God, not me! And certainly not Brother Bob! But who?”
Befuddled and mystified, he got back to the monastery and told the remaining monks what the old man had said. They, too, were curious. They wondered. They looked at their colleagues differently.
Something strange happened. In the days, weeks, and months ahead, the monks treated one another with great kindness, gentleness, and courtesy. After all, the messiah was in their midst.
And as their perspective changed, they began to attract new novices to their order. Families came from the nearby town to picnic on their grounds. The monastery flourished.
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St. Paul’s is a very loving community. As a result of the respect we show one another, our parish flourishes. Trust me – I’ve seen the dark side of many a parish’s life.
But we don’t dwell here 24/7. We all have our lives. We walk out of here after service on Sunday, and that is when the rubber of our faith meets the road.
Jesus said, "I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
Those are the first words from our gospel lesson today – from the Sermon on the Plain, Luke’s version of the Sermon on the Mount. They are Jesus’s words to those who would be citizens in the kingdom he was introducing.
They are a high standard. They go against our very nature. But they are words of life. Words of hope. Words for a New Creation.
Our various communities. Our circles of friends. The strangers we encounter. Our families. All would flourish and prosper if we went against the norms of the world and lived the words of Jesus. Forgive. Turn the other cheek. Give freely.
His words… his life… his example… are the way, and the truth, and the life.
