Ordination and Confirmation

One of the most profound things I have learned in my initial seven months as a bishop is that I have become, for better or worse, the public face of the church.  It changes everything.  I thought about starting a blog so that I could open up communication with people across the state, but one guy reminded me that every word I put to paper — or throw into the electronic ether — will be parsed and dissected, by people even two or three thousand miles away.

I also discovered that even more so than was the case before becoming bishop, where my car is parked — or not — is read as a sign of my Episcopal virtue.  Buying a bottle of wine is now fraught with meaning.  And just as frighteningly, when I wasn't looking I suddenly became a theological expert, at least according to the expectations of Episcopalians, so much so that in order to catch up with what I am supposed to know, I have to spend a significant part of each Thursday reading theological tomes.
 
More seriously, people now constantly ask me why anyone should come to church.  I am supposed to have the answer.  It is a question that I have struggled with as long as I can remember.  After listening to and observing various Christian traditions through the years, I am coming to the conclusion that — and this may surprise Episcopalians — the reason we come to church is so that we will be converted.  Sounds rather Baptist, doesn't it?
 
But listen carefully to what I just said: so that we will be converted.  It is not a matter of us converting others, nor is church a place we come to after we are converted.  But rather we come to church so that we will be converted.  In our tradition we do not ask anyone to sign a confessional statement upon entering the door or at any time in the future for that matter.  Instead, our hope is that the liturgy as heard, whispered, proclaimed, and sung week after week will slowly and ineluctably change us.  We will find our hearts converted so that we discover peace.  We will find our hearts converted so that we begin to see the resurrected Christ in others.  We will find our hearts converted so that the power of unconditional love becomes as clear as day to all people.  We will ultimately find the kingdom.

That is what happens on the way in the church doors.  But it does not happen in a vacuum.  Contrary to what some people might hope, the Book of Common Prayer did not come down from the sky on tablets like movie versions of the Giving of the Ten Commandments.  No, people committed to the message of the church have worked long and hard over it for centuries.  The Eucharist does not take place if no one is around.  No, people unlock doors and light candles and polish silver and prepare sermons and practice music and repeat the liturgy.  Our conversion is not personal, solely between Jesus and me.  No, we are converted in part by example as we see the power of unconditional love in others.  I like to call it meeting-Jesus-in-the-check-out-line.  For example, are we converted when we observe someone else seeing the resurrected Christ while he stands behind a buggy at Kroger or Wal-Mart?
 
The fact that conversion does not happen in a vacuum is one of the reasons we are here today.  Conversion needs a community.  As I said earlier, we are not here to convert others.  Jesus did not ask us to do so.  He simply asked us to make disciples, to make it possible for others to see and learn about what it means to be converted, what it means to have a home where unconditional love is the norm, not the rare exception.  To that end, someone has to mind the store.

You might think that what I am now saying becomes an ordination sermon.  It is, but it is much more.  It is an ordination sermon and a confirmation sermon and a sermon in fact for anyone who believes that there is more to the Christian experience than simply showing up.  People who choose to be confirmed are on one level saying that being satisfied with the status quo is not enough, that they are ready to make a mature affirmation of their faith, and that affirmation includes the willingness to become an example to others of what conversion looks like in the Wal-Mart check out line.

And people who answer, “yes” to God's call to be ordained are doing likewise.  Priests make it possible for people to come into this place and find a home where their hearts are changed.

In both instances we signify this change in your life by the laying on of hands, a sign that touch is sacred.  This laying on of hands is going to change everything.  People will look at you differently, be you proud church member or terrified new priest.  All those scary things I mentioned at the first of the sermon about my own life will occur in some way or fashion to you as well.  When we read the baptismal vows, it is terrifying what they ask of us.  Seek and serve Christ in all persons.  Continue in the breaking of the bread.  Strive for justice and peace.  When we read ordination vows, it is scary what they ask of members of the clergy.  Be a faithful pastor to all people.  Be a wholesome example.  Persevere in prayer.  Take these things seriously and we will find ourselves slowly but surely converted, and more importantly, we will find ourselves the examples through which others begin to find their conversion as well.

The burden may sound crushing, the job description overwhelming.  But I don't want you to get too scared.  The job is really simple.  And to that end I will tell you a story.  Here goes.

I am what they call a foodie.  I love locally grown, seasonal, authentic food.  I can't understand why any self-respecting restaurant would dare put an out-of-season, shipped-in tomato in a salad.  As you might guess, I go to farmers’ markets whenever I can.  Two weeks ago I was in East Tennessee at my mom's house and bought smoked bacon in a concrete roadside building, bacon that had been seasoned by a man who has done it all his life.  We picked up some Wolf River apples, an obscure variety.  I brought back to Arkansas homegrown tomatoes.  In Little Rock I bought big purple figs.  Then it was time to put everything together.  One evening I sat a friend down to a meal of BLTs and bacon wrapped figs and cooked summer apples.  After eating it all, he pushed back the plate and said, “This is good enough to make you want to live.”  And he was right.  It was a simple meal, an honest meal, but it was good enough to make you want to live.  End of story.

That is all I ask of you in this room who are a part of St. James’, who are confirmed, who are ordained, who in any way feel called to spread good news.  Keep the message simple and authentic.  Don't be diverted toward non-essentials, toward the false.  Don't get waylaid by overly burdensome and conflicting expectations.  Simply feed the hungry, whatever form the hunger takes.  Make the whole experience good enough that when people share a meal of bread and wine at this table, they will say that it is good enough to make you want to live.  That is what the baptismal covenant is about.  That is ultimately the focus of ordination vows.  If you live your own calling with such integrity that people feel it is good enough to make them want to live, then you have touched them, you have started them on the path of conversion, on the path of changed hearts.  And when hearts start to change, the appearance of the kingdom of God is not far behind.  Amen.

The Rt. Rev. Larry R. Benfield
@ St. James’ Episcopal Church
Eureka Spring, Arkansas
12 August 2007

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