Sermon at the Church of the Holy Apostles, New York City, June 25, 2006
Third Sunday after Pentecost Year B, GLBT Pride Day
by The Reverend Elizabeth G. Maxwell

Job 38:1-11, 16-18
Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32
2 Corinthians 5:14-21
Mark 4:35-41, 5:1-20
 

        May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

        Well, what a rollercoaster this past week has been, and what a difficult place we find ourselves in this morning.  For those of you who don’t know, I am of course speaking of the actions of the General Convention this past week.  Last Sunday was a day of incredible euphoria – the amazing election of Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori to be the next Presiding Bishop and Primate of our church – and then on Tuesday, the House of Deputies defeated the resolution calling for a moratorium on gay and lesbian bishops and blessings.  It felt as if we were truly going forward, no holds barred, as a church, and I posted to the listserv that some days I’m actually proud to be an Episcopalian.  But on Wednesday morning, Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold called for a joint session of the bishops and the deputies to consider a new resolution which called on bishops and standing committees to “exercise restraint” by not consenting to the consecration of any candidate to the Episcopate whose “manner of life presents a challenge to the wider church and will lead to further strains on communion.” 

       In essence, this calls for a moratorium on gay or lesbian bishops.  In doing so, Bishop Griswold subverted the parliamentary procedure and action of the Convention.  I believe he subverted the integrity of the House of Deputies by bringing the matter to a vote again, with such pressure.  He said we needed to do this to show the rest of the Communion our seriousness about staying in relationship, to be able to continue the listening process. 

        The House of Bishops voted for the resolution, including, in their own words, “reluctantly”, our own New York bishops.  And when it came to the deputies, Presiding Bishop Elect Schori came and pleaded for its passage, in order to be able to go to the table at Lambath to continue the conversation.  Her pain was obvious, but she said she believed that this is the best we can do at this time. 

        Responding, I think, largely to her plea, the deputies passed it overwhelmingly, and the convention ended that day – with shock and very little relief for anyone.  The reaction from the radical conservatives in our own church and from overseas came very quickly, and it was that this is inadequate.  It seems that they had decided that nothing short of deposing Gene Robinson would be enough, and the Archbishop of Canterbury ponderously promised to consider whether we had done enough for the Communion to receive us in good faith.  His words, I thought, were a slap in the face – maybe even a kick in the stomach - to those who had acted in good faith at tremendous sacrifice. 

        We here at Holy Apostles were kept informed of all these unfolding events by our own John Gibson, who was there working for Integrity, by Father Barry, by Bruce Parker.  Since convention ended, our listserv has been very active with more information, with expressions of anger and pain and betrayal, with thoughtful musings about what this means.  Father Peter and John Gibson, in particular, have posted eloquent and powerful letters to our own New York bishops and to the Archbishop of Canterbury, telling some hard truths and calling them to account.  Father Bill posted very pastoral words calling us to care for each other, and on Tuesday night we will have a forum – a report back from General Convention and a chance to hear more fully about all the things that were done there (and some of them were in fact very good), and a chance to be together to share where we are.

         This morning I want to reflect just a bit about where we find ourselves.  I want to acknowledge first that we don’t all have the same relationship to these events.  This is a moment of special pain for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Episcopalians, whose humanity and God-given gifts have, in this resolution, been deemed less important than Anglican unity.  But, I also want to say that this is an important moment for all of us, gay or straight.  It is important because we care for one another, it is important because we care for justice, and it is important because we really are part of one another.  We really are members of one body, and we really do need the full gifts of each member for our healing and for our flourishing.  Most especially we need the gifts and voices of those who have been marginalized.

         I want also to say to my straight brothers and sisters that we cannot leave this struggle in the church to gay and lesbian people.  We all need to speak up and bear witness, especially those of us who have relative privilege in this church.  And so I want to say very clearly this morning that the action of General Convention was wrong.  It was wrong, and it posed a false choice, as the brave letter of a few dissenting bishops says.

         This was done in the name of reconciliation, but the reconciliation of which our epistle speaks so eloquently this morning is not won by withholding justice from one part of the body.  The reconciliation of the Gospel is based on the love of God for absolutely all - the embrace of God for the whole creation - and it requires dismantling oppression and discrimination.  I remember the South African experience with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, in which the victims of apartheid sat down with their oppressors.  But they did it after apartheid was no longer the law of the land, and it was then that they could speak the painful truths that began to lead them to a place where they could walk together.  I do believe we have to seek to stay in conversation, as widely as possible, with as diverse voices as possible, but also that we must refuse to cooperate with those who make any of us less than human. 

         Real conversation can only take place in the context of honoring all of who we are, all members of this church, the whole truth.  We are urged on, as Paul tells us, by the love of Christ – the love of Christ for us, for our enemies, the love that has a vision of a new creation in which all are included, and which invites us to step into that vision.  But we are not there yet, and so we groan and we grieve and we rage.  We notice how far we have in fact come….and we notice how far we have to go.  We can’t immediately fix what has happened, can’t fix the feelings of anger and disappointment.  I certainly can’t fix them this morning.  But we can be with the experience and we can be together, and we can remember that this is not the end of our journey.

         The Gospel image of the disciples in the boat is helpful to me in this context.  The boat is an ancient symbol for the ecumenical church.  In the larger context it tells us that we are all in the same boat in some profound way, and it doesn’t actually matter whether we are in the same institution.  If, in the end, for our integrity, we part from the rest of the Anglican Communion, we are still in the same boat in Christ’s love.  Our connection in Divine love is far more profound than institutional unity. 

         But also the boat is an intimate image.  It speaks of our local context.  It speaks of our journey with those that we can see and hear and touch.  It tells us that we are in a storm together, and that Jesus is sleeping in the stern of the boat with, as Mark tells us in a lovely detail, his head on a cushion.  The disciples, though seasoned men of the sea, are terrified, and they cry out “Don’t you care that we are perishing?  Don’t you care?”  And they wake Jesus up, and he calms the storm with just a word.  I wish it were so simple, that our storms could be calmed that way.  But He says “Peace, peace…be still.” 

         Even as the storm rages outside, perhaps we need to hear this word, echoing inside our souls.  Perhaps we need to breathe – in, and out – and let that breath, that word of peace, take us to the awareness of the Divine presence.  We need to feel and hear and see Jesus, in our midst, mysterious, hidden – sometimes silent.  We need to know that Christ is in the boat with us.  Though our friends fail us, and though the church denies and rejects our ministries, Christ is in the boat, on the journey with us. 

         Christ loves us absolutely.  Absolutely, mysteriously, He is able to bring good out of our failures, our mistakes, our betrayals.  The peace that He speaks is not the absence of conflict, but it is the Shalom of God - the abundant life and justice and wholeness that comes from standing for the Gospel with integrity. 

         Bishop Gene Robinson wrote a pastoral letter to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Episcopalians that was posted on the Integrity listserv and on our own listserv last night by Father Peter Carey.  I commend it to your reading.  In part, Bishop Gene says this: “The church has pushed the pause button, not the stop or reverse button. If we continue to make our witness, and if those for whom this sacrifice was made continue to threaten and make one-sided demands, the Episcopal Church will see its mistake and find its prophetic voice again.  Maybe it will even repent of the harm done to us in this faithless and fearful act.  Time will tell.  In the meantime, we are not defeated nor will we be paralyzed by this sad and woeful action. 

         Dwelling on what happened and why will not serve us or the church well.  We need to turn away from yesterday and focus on tomorrow.  We know how all this is going to end.  It is not arrogant to say that we believe we know how all this is going to turn out.  It will end with the full inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people in the life and ministry and leadership of the church.  It will take a long time.  Some or all of us may not live to see it, but happen it will.  In a strange way I think the conservatives know it too.  All we’re arguing about know is timing.  It will be enough for each of us to play her or his own part.” 

         In the meantime, I return to the presence of Jesus, with us in the boat.  After the storm is stilled he asked the disciples, “Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?”  This has always seemed to me one of those obtuse questions of Jesus.  Surely, fear is an appropriate response to overwhelming winds and seas.  But the question shows us a stark choice as to how we will live in every moment.  There is fear and there is faith.  The actions taken by General Convention, I believe, were taken out of fear – out of a model of scarcity and out of a need to appease those who are bullying us.  But we can take action from faith.  Despite the storms, despite everything whirling around us, we can root ourselves in the awareness, in the conviction of God with us, and we can take the risks of love.

         I don’t know what the long term strategy will be for gay and lesbian and bisexual and transgender Episcopalians and their straight allies.  I don’t know what the strategy is for us at Holy Apostles.  But I do know we need to root and ground ourselves in the Christ who is with us in the boat.  We need to root and ground ourselves in love.  We need to keep our hearts open so that the pain and anger and love flow through.  We need to care for one another, and so, find our courage.  And then I believe we will see and do the next right thing, and the next, and the next. 

         It is perhaps some kind of cosmic irony that this is also Gay Pride Day.  Unlike earlier in the week, I am not proud of the Episcopal Church today.  But I am very proud of this community, and particularly on this day, I am proud of my gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender brothers and sisters – not only at Holy Apostles, but especially at Holy Apostles.

         I am unspeakably grateful for the gifts that you have brought to me – the gifts of love and friendship, of creativity and beauty; grateful for your devoted labors in the liturgy, in the soup kitchen, on the vestry, in the garden, working with our children, working for justice of all kinds.  I am grateful for your keen insights and your exuberant, hilarious laughter.  I thank you for your tears and struggles which have been shared so generously with me, and for the examples of relationships that are blessed and a blessing to all who see them.  I thank you for your witness of abundant living and holy dying, for your support and challenge of me, for being the presence of Christ in this place. Thank you.  I love you.  I am angry and grieved that the church cannot yet receive those gifts fully.  But I want to celebrate all that is good here at Holy Apostles, and I promise to bear witness in the broader church.  I promise to continue as best I can to make Holy Apostles a place where, as our banner says, there will be no outcasts - where we will practice radical hospitality, inclusion, and the honoring of the gifts of all people.

         Let us then work together for justice and reconciliation, and let us trust in the Christ who is in the same boat with us, who calls us to faith, and who speaks His peace to the church, to us, and to the whole world.

         Amen.

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