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Sermon at The Church of
the Holy Apostles, New York City
March 4, 2007
The Second Sunday in Lent, Year C
The Reverend Barry M. Signorelli
Genesis 15: 1 - 12, 17 - 18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3: 17 through 4: 1
Luke 13: 22 - 30, 31 - 35
Strive to enter
through the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will try to enter
and will not be able.
In the Name of Jesus, who welcomes those who truly seek
him. Amen.
Tempting as it might be, the path of least
resistance is usually not the best way to go. The choice of
action that takes the least thought, or entails the smallest
inconvenience, is the one that we naturally might incline toward –
along with the vast majority of our fellow human beings. But
Jesus strongly counsels against this; unthinkingly joining the
crowd along the broad, easy path, inviting as it is, leads to
rejection when that path eventually ends at the wide but
fast-closed door to the Kingdom of God. It won’t matter how merry
we all were along the journey, or how many celebrities and
religious authorities were in our company, or how well we all got
along; despite all this, our journey will have been wasted when we
hear the words, “I do not know where you come from; go away from
me, all you evildoers!” Perhaps even worse, we will know, from
our exile outside the walls, that inside Abraham and the prophets
are celebrating the wedding-feast with those we never imagined
stood a chance of getting inside – those who were last have been
welcomed first, while we who enjoyed primacy and privilege on our
journey are denied and disinherited. Far better, Jesus says, to
make our way along the rough, hardscrabble path through the
desolate places, even if we have to make that pilgrimage alone;
for that path ends at a small, overgrown, seldom-used door that we
must stoop to enter. But when we knock at that door, the owner of
the house will fling it open and welcome us in as beloved children
finally home after a long and difficult journey.
As usual, Jesus’ teachings run counter to intuition and
popular opinion. And it is the latter that can so often be the
obstacle to finding that narrow door; everybody else is going the
other way – they can’t all be wrong, can they? It turns out,
apparently, that they can, and those who do not shrink from the
hard choices, who brave the dire consequences, who dare to take
the road less-traveled and risk the loss of popularity and power,
it is they who triumph in the end. The narrow door is none other
than the gate to eternal life.
But lately I’ve come to the realization that are two
kinds of narrow doors. One is the kind that Jesus is talking
about, the kind that can only be entered by those who have
searched their hearts and souls to discern how best to respond to
God’s call to love him above all things and to love our neighbors
as ourselves. This kind of narrow door is found by those who have
risked their reputations and the acclaim of the world in the
service of the Gospel. The other kind of narrow door is the one
set up by the proud and the powerful as a filter, to let some in
and to keep others out. The narrowness of this door is not about
righteousness, but about meeting a definition of purity; it’s not
about the careful discernment of the individual, but acquiescence
to immutable, dictated dogma. This kind of narrow door does not
lead to the welcoming host, but to the same broad, locked door
that bars the way of any who do not do justice, love mercy, and
walk humbly with their God.
The Primates of the Anglican Communion, in the
Communiqué issued after their recent meeting in Tanzania, may have
believed they were placing before the Episcopal Church a choice,
between the broad and narrow doors, but I believe the choice they
present is actually between the two kinds of narrow doors I have
just described. As most of you by now may know, the Primates have
demanded – yes, demanded, since the “requests” came with a
deadline and ultimatum – they have demanded three things: first,
that the House of Bishops explicitly state that it will not
consent to the consecration of any actively gay or lesbian bishops
until there is a “consensus” in the Anglican Communion that it is
okay to do so – in practical terms, never; second, that the House
of Bishops agree not to authorize liturgies for the blessing of
same-sex unions; and third, that a Pastoral Scheme – yes, “scheme”
is the word they use – to set up a Primatial Vicar who would serve
as Presiding Bishop to those who cannot bring themselves to deal
with Katharine Jefferts Schori. Moreover, this Primatial Vicar
would be accountable, not to the Presiding Bishop or General
Convention, but to a Primatial Council made up mostly of foreign
bishops who would essentially have oversight of the Episcopal
Church, to keep us in line. Acceptable responses must be
forthcoming by September 30, 2007, or else our relationship with
the Anglican Communion will be further affected.
There are so many things wrong with these demands, that
I would have far too little time to elaborate on them in this
sermon, even if I wanted to devote it to these political issues.
Let me just note a few things in brief: the Primates continue to
disregard the Episcopal Church’s polity by assuming that the House
of Bishops can make decisions for the whole church; only General
Convention can do that. Bishops can indeed withhold consent for
the consecration of anyone, although doing so strictly on the
basis of sexual orientation could be a direct violation of our
national Canons. On same-sex blessings, General Convention has
not approved any liturgies, but the Primates seek prior injunction
on any future deliberations and acts of General Convention; the
Archbishop of Canterbury has even hinted that his interpretation
is that such blessings would not take place, period. And finally,
the Primatial Vicar and Council is a completely unacceptable
arrangement that would give unprecedented power to the Primates to
interfere in and manage the Episcopal Church’s life and practice,
doing away with the autonomy that each member Church of the
Communion has always had.
That’s all I’m going to say about the political aspects
of these demands today. I urge you to come to the Eucharist and
Forum this coming Tuesday, March 6th, where our own
Bishop Sisk will celebrate and lead a conversation about the
current state of affairs in the Episcopal Church and the Anglican
Communion. It promises to be an interesting evening. And you are
invited to join many of us tomorrow evening at 7:00 for the
monthly meeting of WAKE UP, a coalition of concerned Episcopalians
working for a full inclusion Church. Later this week you can log
onto the WAKE UP website for a fuller discussion of all these
developments.
But for now I want to say something about the practical
implications of what’s happening in Anglicanism, around the world
and here at home. One could say that one of the false attractions
of the broad door is flabby theology – that is, lack of discipline
and intentionality in the interpreting and discerning of how
scripture and tradition direct and inform the practice of our
common life. Many in the global conservative movement believe
that the Episcopal Church has simply flung open the doors to
anyone who believes anything and does anything with their lives –
“if it feels good” theology. But as far as gays and lesbians are
concerned (and, for the record, I am among their number), the
Episcopal Church has had a long, intentional, frustrating, and
hopeful conversation for nearly forty years about whether and why
we should be welcomed, not only as children of God, but as full
and equal members of the community of faith. We have come to a
consensus in most of the Episcopal Church that Baptism is the one
and only rite of initiation into membership in the Body of Christ,
and that faithful, loving relationships between two people of the
same gender are not disqualifications of that membership, but
occasions for joy and celebration by the community. The grace and
gifts of gay and lesbian people are not despised by God, nor by
this Church, and certainly not by this parish. This is not a
position we come to lightly or unadvisedly; and it is not a
process we have done in secret, the entire Anglican Communion has
known – or should have known – what we were doing. To demand that
we go backward from this, to send the Episcopal Church back into
the closet, is unreasonable, uncharitable, and unacceptable.
There are many in this parish family who came to the
Episcopal Church precisely because they saw us as a faith
tradition that valued reason, embraced diversity, and welcomed
questions and doubts in the search for understanding. If we
should now capitulate to the forces that would mutate unity into
uniformity, and who would make some of the baptized into
second-class citizens in the Church, then we would be betraying
all of what God has led us to become; and we would be turning our
backs on those who came to us battered and scarred by other
traditions, but who came to us in hope, trusting that we would be
a safe harbor, a loving home. It is our calling in this parish
and this larger Church to be those things, to make manifest God’s
love to every one of his children. I say to those of you who are
scared, who are fearful of being sacrificed yet again, that you
will not be abandoned. It is inconceivable that the Episcopal
Church should become the parody of itself that many want us to be,
and we will fight with every ounce of our being to preserve the
godly heritage of inclusion we have worked to create. I do not
promise that it will be an easy road; we may end up walking it
without many of our sisters and brothers, and it will indeed be a
hardscrabble trek leading through desolation and disappointment;
but the covenant God made with Abraham is made to all of us, too,
as Abraham’s children. God is faithful, and will continue to lead
us and teach us along the way, if we remain faithful, too.
Power, prestige, authority, privilege, and control:
these things are always there to tempt us off the harder path, and
join the merry band on its way to perdition; but our call is a
higher one, to love our God above all things and to love our
neighbors as ourselves – all our neighbors, even those heading the
wrong way. We can warn them, we can sit at table with them to
share the good news we have been given, but we cannot make them
listen. Ultimately, each of us, as individuals, and as
communities, must choose for ourselves which path to take, which
door to knock on. For me, it is an easy choice; the God who made
me, saved me, and loves me beyond all comprehension would not ask
me to turn my back on any of my sisters and brothers, and I shall
not do so. For all of us – gay or straight, black or white, rich
or poor, certain or full or doubts – all of us are the beloved of
God, and the narrow door is wide enough for all of us to enter in.
Amen.
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