I've Got a Secret
Exodus 1:8-2:10,
Romans 12:1-8, Matthew 16:13-20
“Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone
that he was the Messiah.”
Some of us are old enough to remember a game show that began
in the 1950s called I’ve Got a Secret.
The premise was that a guest would share his secret with the host and audience
and the panel of entertainers would discover that secret through asking
questions and deduction.
I thought of that old show as I read this seemingly strange
command to the disciples. Of course, if
we read on we find that knowledge and understanding are not always synonymous
and although the disciples say the right words they do not grasp the meaning of
all that is contained in Jesus’ Messiahship.
And I am not sure that we are much better than they at
understanding. We may know the words but
must also keep the question of who we see in Jesus before us lest we fail to
live into our calling to follow the Christ.
Last week I received an e-mail which asked some rather
loaded questions:
1. What is the church's teaching on abortion?
2. What is the church's teaching on
homosexuality?
I responded in a vague sort of way thinking that if the
inquirer was seeking a serious response, he would enlarge on his
questions. And so he did. The second e-mail read:
Thank you for responding to my questions on church
teachings. I guess I know nothing about
the Episcopal Church and possibly most churches. That is part of
the reason for my questions. I thought the word rabbi means
teacher and
the prophets, Jesus, priests, and reverends were teachers. I
thought churches were to teach us to know,
love, and serve God. If you have time
please tell me why the Episcopal Church exists and what it does.
Now there is a question: “Why does the Episcopal Church
exist and what does it do?” “Who do you
say that I am?” Do you recall the three
questions Bishop Katharine Jefferts-Schori asked us to consider when she came
to
Little Rock to consecrate Larry
our Bishop last year? She asked:
Who are we?
Why are we here?
What are we doing
it about it?
While perhaps not original, these questions go to the heart
of the matter.
Those of you familiar with Cursillo will recognize that this
is the thrust of the Fourth Day, our living into our calling. We must know who we are and why we are here
in order to discover what we are to be about.
“Who do people say I am; who do you say I am.” As Christians, as “little Christ”s, it is
essential that we be able to answer these questions continually. Larry, our bishop, speaking about the
recently concluded Lambeth conference, said that a low point for him had to be
when one of the bishops stated that there is only one way to interpret
scripture. He said, “If that were true
we would only need one sermon, the first one preached 2000 years ago.” But the reality is that we are not the people
to whom the first sermon was preached, nor even those to whom scripture spoke a
week ago.
We change; our world changes. And the living Christ, the resurrected Son of
Man, lives today in the people of the church – that’s church in its widest
sense, its catholic being. We are not a
social club, though socializing is important to building our bonds as a
community of Christ. It was in breaking
bread that Jesus identified with those to whom he had come – the sinner, the
outcast, the broken and hurting of the world.
We are not a corporation, though we do organize and function in a world
of commerce and merchandise. The caution
here is that we must beware lest in giving generously and sharing what we have,
we become so attached to the physical things of church that we begin to make
merchandise of the souls of men and women – and it has been the story of the
church that we have done exactly that throughout the ages. We are not simply followers of a charismatic
leader whose gifts bring joy and comfort to us when we blindly follow that
leader’s commands. As easy as that might
seem, discovering and living out the
kingdom
of God is not always a comfortable
task.
What we are called to be is an incarnational community - a
community that is open, inclusive, accepting, and transforming; “gathered
together in unity by the Holy Spirit.”
We must answer, again and again, the question, “Who do you say that I
am?” if we are to “show forth God’s power among all the peoples.”
Let me offer a wee look at my own journey; perhaps in it you
can glimpse your own and see the ways in which you are answering this basic question.
I grew up in rural
Texas
in the 1940s and 50s. It was a time of
evangelistic fervor with a nationalistic twist - of doing war against “Godless
Communism.” Coming of age in a clapboard
Methodist church, I remember confirmation quite well. I and two of my friends – sixth graders –
were given little blue cards to sign.
They were pledges to not smoke, not drink, and not to mess with the
girls who do - and I don’t mean not drink or smoke. With all good intentions, I’m afraid my view
of God was more like that of a stern disciplinarian than of an loving parent
keeping an inviting home as a place of nourishment, rest, healing, and
restoring. Of course, by my late teens,
the blue card was buried away in the deep recesses of a drawer and the promises
in the deep recesses of my mind – I had violated them all without looking back.
There soon followed a pattern which many have followed: The
falling away from any semblance of religious faith in college, the feeling of
being too wise to believe in old myths, the awakening that comes with adult
responsibilities of family and job, the realization that God is not the simple,
angry, ready-to-pounce abuser that I had imagined in my youth, the seeking for
meaning in life…
Not to belabor the point, the Holy Spirit was afoot in my
life. I stumbled into a church – a
Baptist church – whose pastor could marry an intellectual thought with a love
for the old stories and open eyes to see new life in those old words. He introduced me to some dangerous folks of
the day – Thomas Merton, Will Campbell, a couple of brothers by the name of
Berrigan and a young man named Julius Lester – the Committee of Southern
Churchmen they were called.
Thank God for that pastor.
Didn’t take long for that church to run him off but with the seeds
thought he had implanted and the experience of watching what a church could do
to a pastor who challenged it to live into its baptismal covenant, I began to
drift, seeking something more. I found
much that was good and bad in different churches. And along the way I discovered the Episcopal
Church. I felt as if I had found my
home! I was confirmed in that church in
1968 and made my Cursillo in 1969 – what timing! By the mid-70s the Episcopal Church was in
turmoil over women priests, human sexuality, and perhaps worst of all - the
zebra book (a revision edition to the BCP for those not old enough to
remember). Sad to say, I found myself
listening to the voices of dissension rather than letting the Holy Spirit guide
me toward the essential question – “Who do you say that I am?”
That failure would set me adrift once again. For twelve years, I wandered, actually
sinking deeper into myself and frustration until, by the grace of God, I found
myself sitting in an AlAnon meeting - partly as a lark, partly as part of a
study assignment. In that place, it was
as though I heard my story and felt my pain in the stories and pain of the
others in that room. I went back, again
and again. It was as though I had come
to my senses. One outcome of that
experience was to revisit that Episcopal Church I had left.
There is a whole ‘nuther story there but one of the most
important things to ever happen to me occurred there. On the morning I went back to visit, I found
the church almost empty. Three priests
had come and gone; there was none at the time.
The members, the ones who hadn’t gone to other churches, were mostly not
there. But on that morning, in Morning
Prayer led by the people, one of the prayers offered up addressed the ravages
of AIDS. The leader asked God’s mercy on
those who suffered from AIDS, those who cared for them, and those who hated
them! That simple embracing prayer
rekindled in me the fire of love for Jesus Christ and for the Episcopal Church,
a church which I still believe can, at its best, truly show forth the power of
God to all peoples.
That was almost 30 years ago – the love affair has not
waned; it has only strengthened. And so
it was not too hard to answer my e-mailer’s questions:
You ask questions
I wish more of our parishioners would ask - why do we exist; what do we do?
In one sense, you
are correct to say that rabbis, priests, pastors, elders -- whatever name you
choose -- are to teach us to know, love, and serve God. We are not people who are more special than others
however. Pastors are servants whose
heart is to transform the world by transforming the lives of those in the
community where they serve. We try to
show the love of God and invite others to experience that love. As a Christian church, we understand our
relationship to God through the life, teaching, stories about, and finally the
death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
We exist to
continue the ministry initiated by Jesus on earth. Unfortunately, our history as a church and as
reflected in what we do often seems to contradict what Jesus began. Yet his antagonists when he was on earth in
flesh were, after all, primarily the religious folks. As a priest, my role is often to get people
out of their comfortable place to see how actions and attitudes create rather
than solve problems. A church is not a
collection of good people -- it is a family of broken, hurting, and imperfect
people seeking solutions to their problems and help for their needs.
It is not about
ritual -- ritual serves as an image of a greater and often mysterious truth or
reality nor is it about telling people what to do and what not to do. While our faith and relationship with God can
inform our moral ethic, at the heart of being church is that regardless of what
we do or whether we even like one another, we are part of a family -- the
family of God.
One of the best
ways to learn more about Christianity is in a community or church. Unfortunately, many churches seem to function
more as businesses, clubs, or social service organizations; as places to
exercise control over people rather than as places of transformation and
healing. It is worthwhile to visit and
listen to your intuitive sense about a group before becoming too committed.
I hope you can
find some answers to your questions -- they are good ones.
The best: But who do you say that I am? I think the secret is out. Now what are we going to do about it?
Amen.
The Rev. John Dryden Burton
August
24, 2008
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