A Response to Augustine

 HOMILY, ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY – SECOND SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, YEAR B

JUNE 6, 2021

 

TEXT:                        MY LAST SUNDAY AT ST. PAUL’S, FOLEY

 

            Early in the second semester of a seminarian’s senior year, we take a week of written comprehensive examinations.  Those exams are called GOEs – General Ordination Examinations. A student is expected to show proficiency in seven canonical areas of study.

Because of their comprehensiveness and importance, they are jokingly referred to as God’s Own Exam.

 

            The test comes in many forms, depending on the day. Open-book. Closed-book. Short answer. Multiple-choice. Essay.

 

            The year after I took mine (I passed), a friend took his at Virginia Seminary.  He had a classmate who gave one of the most creative – and wrong -- answers to a question.

 

            The student was stumped by a simple question: Who was the mother of St. Augustine of Hippo? It was not a difficult question; most seminarians would know the answer. Augustine’s mother was a prominent figure in church history.  Her name was Monica.

 

            Again, the question was Who was the mother of St. Augustine of Hippo? Stumped, the student wrote his creative answer: Mrs. Hippo.

 

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            Augustine was remembered for so much more.  He was one of the great “doctors of the church” and perhaps its most influential theologian.

 

            He is remembered especially for his writings, such as The City of God, and his autobiographical work, which is entitled Confessions.  That work spans 13 books all of which were written between 397 and 400 A. D.

 

            My homily today on this my last Sunday with you, will be my Confession – though considerably shorter.  It will be my credo – Latin for I believe.

 

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            A life of walking the faith, first in the Methodist Church and for the last fifty-one years in the Episcopal Church, and 34 years of ordained ministry have instilled certain essential points of faith in my heart.  

 

Those years of experience and traveling with some remarkable saints on this sojourn have taught me that we, as Christians, live ordinary lives.  We live lives that are not protected from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Those we love are subject to serious illness.  We sustain tragic losses. We encounter the bitterness of human existence. Our relationships fall apart. Our children and grandchildren are not immune to these circumstances.  And much more. Sadly, our faith is no magic fix or shield against the human condition.

 

But we have friends – fellow journeyers – who will walk with us on this path.  And we will walk with them.  We will share one another’s burdens.  We will embrace one another.  We will pray with one another.  We will love one another (as Jesus commanded) even though we may not utter those words.

 

We are called to this Holy Table – to confess our sins, to break bread, to hear the story of salvation – which is our story.  And we give thanks. As a bit of contemporary Roman Catholic music says, “We come to share our story.  We come to break the bread. We come to know our rising from the dead.”

 

And there’s more. Our faith gives us a different perspective than those who do not share that faith.  We see over a foggy, distant horizon. We see a majesty, a depth, a transcendence, a dimension to God’s existence that assures us of our eternal part in it.  We see the grave not as an end, but as a transition – a gateway to eternal life.  And though we may grieve the loss of a loved one, we know that this veil of tears will endure but the twinkling of an eye.  Our common lives continue in God’s kingdom.

 

And, still, there is more.  We are recipients of an abundance, an overflowing, a never-ending fountain of love from the source of our creation.  That love is given to us and is available to us no matter where we go and no matter what we do. As our prayer book says, “The bond established by God in baptism is indissoluble.”

 

As Roman Catholic mystic and contemplative Richard Rohr has said, the love of God is ultimately irresistible.  It will overcome all barriers.  It is relentless. It will prevail.  We may resist for a time, but the love of God is the essence of creation.  We cannot escape it. That love is the seminal characteristic of the Trinity, which we acknowledged last week on Trinity Sunday.  The relationship between the members of the Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – is perichoresis – the dance of love. Our mission is to emulate that dance with others.  That is our highest calling.

 

The hymn we just sang captures all of this.  It was written by a poet from Greenville, Mississippi and is probably my favorite hymn.  William Alexander Percy penned these words, “The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing – the marvelous peace of God.”