(A sermon I preached for Deven's installation)
D’s Sermon
A hot air balloonist set off one fine May
day from just outside London.
He expected a calm trip but a sudden storm blew in off the English
Channel that took him north for over an hour. When his balloon was
deflated, he found himself suspended in a tree beside a small Anglican Church.
Looking down from his precarious perch, he saw the Vicar leaving the church and
heading for the Vicarage.
“Father, Father,” the balloonist
called out, ready to dial his cell phone and tell his friends where to pick him
up, “Father, can you tell me where I am?”
The priest looked up and smiled, “Yes,
my son,” he said, “you’re stuck in a tree.”
“Just like a priest,” the man muttered
to himself, “what they say is often TRUE but it is seldom helpful….”
****
It is my hope
that this sermon will be more “True” than “helpful”. And it is my sincere and
devout prayer that Deven’s ministry in your midst will be like that as
well—more TRUE than HELPFUL.
****
Another
story.
A group of wealthy
Americans are on a safari in Africa. Things
are going well except that the natives who are carrying much of the equipment
stop every hour or so and sit quietly on the ground for 15 minutes.
Finally, one
of the Americans goes to the head guide and says, “look, we’re paying you a
great deal for this safari, yet your workers stop too often and rest too long.
What do they think they are doing?”
The head
guide, being as polite as possible, tells the impatient American this: “Our
tribe believes that if you move too quickly you will outrun your soul. So we
must sit on a regular basis and let our
souls catch up.”
Well, the
rich American is outraged. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” he
says.
The head
guide nods, “Of course you think that, having long ago left your soul far, far
behind. But our souls hover near and we will wait for them to join us again.”
***
It is
humbling to be with you this morning. I thank you for your hospitality. I thank
Bishop McKelvy for allowing me to preach in his diocese. There will be some
heresy spoken today, Bishop, but not so much or not of any ilk that you will
have to report back to Bishop Smith in Connecticut.
That is my hope.
Mostly, I
thank Deven, your new Rector, for the privilege and honor of “coming north” to
celebrate with her and with all of you about this new ministry you have
begun. I’ve known Deven longer than either of us wants to admit. She has been
an important part of my life and my ministry. And it is with unspeakable joy
and not a little trepidation, that I bring to all of you, this morning, the
“good news” about this relationship between a Rector and a Parish.
I’ve been a
parish priest since 1975. I have served three of the most remarkable
congregations in this church—the present one, St. John’s
on the Green in Waterbury
for 16 years. So, I’m not just a guy you met at a bar when it comes to parish
priesthood. I do know what I’m talking about. I only pray that God will give me
the grace and the words to speak to your hearts and your souls about this “love
affair” you and Deven have begun.
Two things, I
hope, she will bring to you as precious gifts and you will accept them in that
spirit are these:
I hope she
will give you Truth rather than Helpfulness. And, I hope she will make you stop
in the midst of your shared ministry and shared lives—as often as necessary…and
it may be very often indeed—to let your souls catch up with you.
You see—from
one who’s not a guy at a bar—the parish church exists for this and this only:
TO FIND AND BE FOUND BY GOD.
That’s all
you are here for, that’s all your common life is about. Finding and being found
by God is the only reason this church exists. Everything else you do emerges
from seeking and being sought by God. So, lean into Truth and make sure you
don’t outrun your souls.
***
A third
story, this one told by John Mortimer in his memoir.
It goes like this:
A man with a bristling grey
beard came and sat next to me at lunch. He had very pale blue eyes and an
aggressive way of speaking.
He began, at once and
without any preliminary introductions, to talk about yachting in the North Sea.
“But isn’t it very
dangerous, your sport of yachting?” I asked.
“Not dangerous at all,
provided you don’t learn to swim. I made up my mind when I bought my first
boat, never to learn to swim.”
“Why was that?” I asked.
He told me, “when you’re in
a spot of trouble, if you can swim you strike out for the shore. Invariably you
drown swimming for safety. As I can’t swim, I cling to the wreckage and they
send a helicopter out for me. That’s my tip, if you ever find yourself in
trouble, cling to the wreckage.”
I want to
suggest to you that there are many worse metaphors for the parish ministry of
your Rector and for the parish life of this congregation than “clinging to the
wreckage”.
I want to suggest
to Deven that her most vital and important role in your midst, as your priest,
is to be about her own “soul work”. And “soul work” it seems to me at least,
has a lot to do with clinging to the
wreckage of life until it becomes, literally, a “life preserver.” It is the
wreckage that will save your soul.
And I want—just
like a suggestion—to suggest to you, to this parish community, that “clinging
to the wreckage” is an apt paradigm for your life together as the Body of
Christ. The wreckage of your individual lives will lead you to new life and the
wreckage of your common life together will sustain you and support you and give
you, in the end, a wholeness and salvation you could not imagine.
Finally, here
at the end, I want to turn to scripture.
In John’s
Gospel this morning, Jesus says to his friends, “abide in my love.”
Back where I
grew up, in the mountains of Southern West Virginia,
people actually used the word “abide”. They didn’t pronounce it that way, but
if you were walking down the street in front of their house and they were on
the front porch in rocking chairs and a swing, they would say to you, “Come
on up and bide a spell.”
“Biding a
spell” meant simply this: just sit here and “be” with us.
“Abiding” is
a passive verb—it implies nothing more and nothing less that simply “being
there”.
What I want
to suggest to you—to Deven, of course, but to all of you as well and as
passionately—is that you have entered into a “love affair” with each other and
what you need to do…most need to do…always need to do is this and this only:
“Abide” in each other’s love.
There is much
to “do” and many “tasks” and lots of “committees” and a multitude of “works”.
All that will take care of itself if you simply “abide” in your love of each
other and God’s unbridled love for you.
Some advice
for the journey:
Long more for Truth than helpfulness,
Stop
often and wait for your souls to catch up;
Cling
to the wreckage together;
Abide
in love; and
Seek
always to find and be found by God.
There is
nothing else. That is all there is. May your life together in ministry be
filled chocked full of Truth and Waiting and Clinging and Abiding and Seeking.
That is enough. That is more than enough
