|
From the Rector - weekly reflection; Thursday, July 17, 2008 Reflection
Some of you may have read reporter Linda Greenhouse's summary of her 20-odd years reporting on the Supreme Court, in last Sunday's New York Times. Thanks to an invitation by a thoughtful Grace parishioner, I heard her speak a couple of years ago and have followed her writing ever since. Her Sunday story noted, among many other things, that the Court's attitude toward homosexuality has softened over the years, partly because some Justices have come to recognize and care for gay and lesbian persons as friends and family members.
In 1986, Mayor Harold Washington proposed a Human Rights Ordinance in the Chicago City Council. A delegation from a large local church visited Richard Mell, alderman of the ward where my churches were located, and told him he'd pay a heavy price at the polls if he voted for the ordinance, which extended civil rights guarantees to gay and lesbian persons. Later, I went with a group of clergy from some smaller churches to ask the alderman to consider voting "yes". He said he would do so, and pay the political price, if he thought the ordinance could pass, but he knew it couldn't (Mayor Washington had trouble getting the Council to give him office space in those days, let alone a controversial civil rights law). Since his vote wouldn't make any difference, he said, he planned to vote against it. A member of our group said, "But Mr. Alderman, your vote does make a difference!" Mell, a voluble man who could charm or intimidate with equal ease, fell uncharacteristically silent for a few moments, then fumbled for words for a little while. The conversation ended in desultory fashion, we went our separate ways, and the ordinance failed by a large margin a few days later. Mell voted "no". (A similar ordinance passed in 1988, after Mayor Washington died and the Council installed a pliable interim Mayor. Mell was on vacation when the 1988 vote was taken.)
Nearly 20 years later, Mell's daughter told the family she was a lesbian. Since then he's declared his support and love for her loudly, publicly and profanely (as he, and many other Chicago politicos, do almost everything). In a 2004 interview he spoke of "that stupid-ass vote that I regretted." Turns out a "yes" vote in 1986 would have made a very big difference, though not one the Alderman or any of us present in his office would have expected. A costly act in a losing cause speaks in powerful and unanticipated ways. A seed sown by an injudicious sower, yielding thirty-, sixty-, even a hundred-fold.
Sermon by the Rector What's the "seed" that the undiscriminating sower casts onto various kinds of ground, or the word that, according to Isaiah, goes forth from God and does not return empty, resembling the rain that gives growth and brings forth a harvest from the ground? Perhaps the seed, or the word, are a calling from God, a role or responsibility which God summons us to fulfill in the world, in the family, in the church, in our community. With this seed planted, this word spoken, in the human heart comes the promise of which today's collect speaks: knowledge and understanding of the things we ought to do, and grace and power to accomplish them. Looking around at the world, though, we come to wonder about the way in which the seeds have been cast, the distribution of roles and responsibilities. Sometimes people with important roles seem blind to what they ought to be doing, or to lack the personal power – the focus, attentiveness, the "people skills" – to fulfill their responsibilities. "How did he / she end up with that job?", we ask, about people in the office, the government, the church. Occasionally, and more poignantly, we turn our bemused gaze on ourselves. "How did I end up in this situation, this role, this set of expectations?" we ask; "I'm in over my head. I don't know what needs to be done, and even if I did, I'm not sure I could do it." Seeking a good fit between a person's capacities and their role in a community marks a certain form of human maturity. If we're in positions of responsibility, we try to find the right person for each task that needs to be done. With respect to ourselves, we try to take on roles which, though they may challenge us, are well-suited to our gifts and talents. We try to insure that the precious seed falls on fertile ground, that the word which goes forth does not return empty, that responsibilities fall to persons who have understanding of what they ought to do, and grace and power to accomplish it. We learn to exercise great care in deciding where to invest our time, our talent, our treasure. We want our efforts to bring forth a bountiful harvest. A certain form of human maturity. But not the whole story. Human history, and our personal histories, are littered with our misjudgments in this regard. Three examples come to mind, from present-day public life. 1) The use of the word "investment" to characterize public sector spending. A good choice of words, in some ways. In this time of widespread aversion to taxes and reluctance among political leaders to even use the word, we need to know that public expenditures are made with an eye to securing a good return – that somebody's assessed the quality of the soil before planting a seed there. But I think bad consequences have ensued. "Return on investment" sometimes comes to mean "an immediate or short-term return accruing in an identifiable way to me or mine." Hardly a prescription for a healthy public life. 2) The slicing and dicing of the electorate; "red" and "blue" states; the almighty "base" that must be cultivated. All these concepts represent an attempt to make sure a campaign's resources are spent in places where they'll get the most votes – to sow seeds on fertile soil, so the harvest will be great. The consequence of their deployment is a sharply divided nation. 3) The church's obsession with "discernment". In the ordination and placement processes we spend immense amounts of time and resources trying to decide who should be ordained, or become the rector of a certain parish, or the vicar of a certain mission, or fill any given position. Good idea in some ways; we don't want to commit time and money to a person who won't serve the church well, or will cause the church trouble or scandal. But we've discerned ourselves right out of some important ministry. Perhaps some of you saw an article about the Episcopal Church in a recent edition of Harper's Magazine. Though the article focused on the controversy over sexuality that's dividing our communion, the author also touched on other important issues. He's a "Canon 9" priest, authorized to minister only in designated communities, and served in that capacity as the pastor of a small Vermont church – average Sunday attendance was 12 - before leaving to pursue other opportunities. That church now has the services of a part-time, regularly ordained Vicar. The diocese provides a subsidy so that the church can pay the Vicar's salary. The author writes that he can almost hear the clucking of the Bishop of Vermont's colleagues in the House of Bishops: "You shouldn't throw good money after bad! Remember, diocesan resources are scarce. Is that little church really the best place to invest them? Maybe you need to engage in more 'discerning' about your budget priorities." The author says this may well be good advice, but wonders if the advice-givers appreciate the irony of calling for a withdrawal of the subsidy from a congregation whose average attendance is 12. "And the ones he chose were Peter and Andrew, James and John…" We know the total number. Here's the iron rule of the scriptures, and especially of the gospel: you can never reap a great harvest unless you cast at least some of your seed on unpromising, rocky, thorn-choked ground. The word that does not return empty to God often lands in a heart unready or unqualified to receive it, and that's the way God intends it. I don't know if Barack Obama will be elected President or not, and I certainly wouldn't presume to recommend voting for or against him. I'm glad, though, that his campaign has decided to contest states that have long been considered alien territory, rocky soil, for Democrats. Whether he wins or loses, the campaign's efforts in places like Virginia, Georgia and Montana could, if managed properly, help us find common ground across racial, economic and ideological barriers. Many of you may remember the occasions when I've spoken of my friend and mentor, Father Rex Bateman. When I came to Chicago, Father Bateman was at the height of his powers as a person, and as a priest. Every minute spent with him yielded a rich harvest of wisdom for the practice of my ministry. Just watching him operate, I learned a lot. Then he became suddenly and catastrophically ill. Soon, he didn't have much to offer. His strength waned quickly. He even got testy if I asked many questions. But the time I spent with Father Bateman after he got sick, when the soil got rocky and choked with thorns, has shaped and strengthened me time and time again, in a way that time spent with him earlier does not, and could not. We've all learned this lesson in one way or another, from investing a lot of ourselves in a person who couldn't, or even wouldn't, give very much back to us. Paul says we're to live in the spirit, not the flesh. Living by the standards of the flesh means always taking a close a careful look at the soil where we're about to sow some seed, assessing the prospects for a good return on our investment. In God's world, this approach is sometimes, even often, but not always, the right one. One gift of the spirit is the capacity to know when the time has come to cast our bread upon the waters and see what comes back to us. Who knows what the 12-member church, or the Georgia electorate, or the misfits, the outsiders and the ill-adapted people that make our life difficult, or we ourselves when we fall into these categories, might become. The Spirit in whom we live and move will determine this, and this Spirit can turn rocky soil into fertile ground and bramble-bushes into blossoming cypress and myrtle.
|
Copyright 2008 Grace Church