An Open Heart...Abundant Love

SERMON

April 28, 2018

Ordination to the Holy Order of Deacons

Five Candidates

Christ Church Cathedral, Mobile Alabama

Ryan, Sara, Alice, Forbes, and Josh, this is your day – it is a day that will change your lives forever. It is glorious day, and it is an absolute honor and privilege for me to share a small part of this day with you. I will treasure these few moments, always.

You may be thinking, or at least I hope that you are thinking – “Wow, I made it.”  Without doubt you are saying to yourselves, “I can’t believe it – thanks be to God for this glorious moment.”  And, you would be extraordinarily unusual if you were not feeling nervous and anxious and if you were not wondering “What Now?” Now that this sacred transition has taken place, who am I – how do I proceed according to my newly declared vows. What does God have in store for me?

You have arrived, after many months, perhaps many years, of discernment, meetings, study, and a host of other challenging tasks – and probably some nail biting - you have arrived at a most sacred moment in your lives.

Today, with our consent, by our prayers, and with Bishop Russell’s actions of laying hands on you and petitioning the Holy Spirit, by the power of that same Spirit, you will assume the outward expression of your inward, invisible reality. You will be ordained to the Sacred Order of Deacons in Christ’s one holy and catholic apostolic church. You will receive the sacrament of ordination.

That’s what ordination is - a sacrament. A sacrament that gives outward and visible expression to an inward invisible reality. Your invisible reality – your call to become part of the ministry of servanthood of our church. Your desire to, in the name of Christ, serve all people, particularly the poor, the sick and the lonely.

A little over eight years ago, I was sitting just where you are sitting – in the pews listening as my friend and mentor, Bishop Chip Stokes preached my ordination sermon. My journey to ordination had been a long one, filled with many challenging moments.

It began in Harlingen, Tx, a tiny town in the Lower Rio Grande Valley. The year was 1992 and I had been appointed Executive Director of an organization providing services for people, mostly Mexican-Americans, living with HIV/AIDS.

It is important to remember that back in 1992 people living with HIV/AIDS were seen as lepers. And, Mexican-American migrant workers with HIV/AIDS – well, to put it bluntly, absolutely no one wanted them around – No one. My appointed task was to find a way to bring health care and social services into their lives – to relieve their suffering; their pain; their isolation.

I arrived fresh from New York City where I had been part of the AIDS activist group Act UP and all the sophisticated political shenanigans that went with that movement, and I set down roots in dusty, hot, and very primitive Harlingen, TX.

To my surprise, my staff, all Mexican, had created a beautiful office space for me, complete with a huge mahogany desk. That first day, I was treated like a queen. However, my second day on the job took a very different direction. About 10 in the morning a small Mexican gentleman rushed into my office, announced that he was Deacon Albert, and said, passionately, “Ma’am you can’t sit there behind that desk. Not if you want to help the people in the Valley. You need to come with me. You need to be where the people are, not behind a big fancy desk.”

That was my introduction to Deacon Albert, an incredibly passionate and energetic Catholic Deacon, who as it turned out was also a member of my staff.

After informing me that I needed to get out from behind my desk, Deacon Albert loaded me into his ancient, non-airconditioned, Toyota pick-up along with bags and boxes filled with food and other household items, and off we went – literally in a cloud of dust.

I have no memory of how many people we visited that day. I only remember that we were gone for hours and hours, until dusk really. We visited mothers whose sons were dying of AIDS, we visited mothers who had AIDS and whose babies were also HIV-infected, we visited young men who were dying of AIDS – we visited lots and lots of people, all of them touched by HIV/AIDS and all of them living in the colonias, or slums of an already impoverished Texas town.

Ostensibly, our goal was to deliver food, but Deacon Albert delivered a lot more than food. He delivered the love that Christ asked us to show towards one another when in John’s gospel he says, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Through conversation, prayer, and all forms of generosity, Deacon Albert brought love to all those we visited. That first day with Albert was a day, like today, a day I will never forget.

After that, I never missed a week of delivering food and love with Deacon Albert. And, I never ceased to be amazed at the power of his love. Mothers were reunited to sons whom they had rejected, dying infants were baptized, infants who died only a few short months after being born had glorious funerals, parties were given for those living in deep sadness and isolation.

There was always enough – enough love for everyone – there was always an abundance of love.

I could go on and on but suffice it to say that for almost four years I worked by Albert’s side and that work – Albert and his work set my heart on fire. My heart was burning with the power of love. And, it was then that I knew that God was calling me to be a deacon in the Episcopal Church.

When I remember this time of my life, I like to believe that Luke’s gospel in which Jesus commands us to “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks” is fair warning to all of us who sense the call to ordination and who are ultimately ordained in Christ’s one holy and catholic apostolic church.

Unlike Peter who fell asleep in the garden, as deacons, priests, and bishops it is essential that we stay awake. We must never be too tired, too benumbed to hear Christ knocking on the doors of our hearts. We must not allow the din of our lives and the turmoil of the world to drown out God’s voice. God’s voice always present within our hearts and our souls, always – never ceasing, never too tired.

With burning hearts, we must have the courage to allow the Holy Spirit to guide us in all things. As Christ’s servants, we must be passionately active in the servanthood of all the church. We must always be ready for him when he comes; when he knocks.

No easy task this business of always being dressed for action, lamps always lit. Bishop Dan Edwards, the bishop who ordained me, said to me just before we processed down the aisle the day of my ordination, “If you think you’re busy now, just wait. You will be even busier after today.” Well, his remark was “right on.” No different than any of my other clergy colleagues I am busy, very busy.

But, and this is a big “but”, we must never be too busy to rest, too distracted reflect, to pray, to study – to listen for and to God. Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians writes, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation, as you come to know him, so that with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power.” (Eph 1:12-20)

“…so that with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you…”

If we are unable to listen for and to God with the eyes of our hearts, we will never know the hope to which he has called us. If we are unwilling to follow Jesus’ commandment given to us in John’s version of the Last Supper “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another”, we will fail mightily in providing an abundance of love to those whom we have vowed to shepherd.

Open hearts and abundant love – essential tools of the trade for all clergy - deacons, priests and bishops alike.

This is your day to be ordained a deacon of the church. I pray that in the few short months prior to your ordination as a priest, you will find a Deacon Albert, jump into his, or her, ancient pick-up, and embark on a journey into the world where an open heart and abundant love are so desperately needed.

I pray that your life as a deacon will be deeply ingrained in your hearts and in your souls. I pray that whatever your title you will always be deacons – servants of Christ sent into the world to love abundantly -to heal and to ensure justice for all. I pray that you will never forget these first few months of your lives as ordained clergy and the sacred nature of your new lives.

CHARGE

Ryan, Sara, Alice, Forbes, and Josh, God has led you on an extraordinary journey and now calls you into an extraordinary ministry of service. We all give thanks for this day and for God’s call to you and I am thankful for the privilege of being present with you on this day. In closing I offer to you this prayer so beautifully expressed by St. Paul.

“For this reason, I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. AMEN. “(Eph 3:13-21)

You Do Not Know...

SERMON

St. Simon’s on the Sound

Maundy Thursday - 2018

John 13:1-17; 31b-35

“You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

A few weeks ago, on the Fourth Sunday of Lent, I preached to you about the Light of Christ and the challenges we all face in letting that light shine into the darkness of our lives. Darkness based in our self-centeredness, our need to “be right” about everything, and our inclination to deny the humanity and needs of “the other” – the needy, the poor - those who are considered outcasts from our shiny, fast-moving, technological world.

Darkness that creates a comfortable space for a system of denial that obscures painful truths about ourselves and about the world around us. Darkness that creates a barrier between ourselves and God and eclipses the love that he has for us, and the love that he demands that we show “the other.”

In that sermon I also spoke of the challenges that we all face once the Light of Christ has finally broken through our darkened world. Challenges based in having the will and the courage to stay in the light – to stick with the demands of the light – to not scurry back into the comfortable darkness of denial, self-centeredness and self-aggrandizement.

Since that time, many things have occurred -of course. Life moves so very quickly these days. But, one event – or ongoing series of events, I might say, has brought me to a place that sheds light – a new light – on both my comments of several weeks ago and on tonight’s gospel reading from John.

Certainly, your ears are burning. You are waiting with baited breath to hear what this series of events that brought me to my “aha moment” are. You are just yearning to ask –“Clelia – what has happened to bring you to this new awareness?”

Well, here it is. As many of you know since the end of January my husband has been in a skilled nursing facility. This means, among other things, that I visit him regularly, and that while visiting I cannot help but be among and observe other residents, the staff and the many types of interactions that occur between residents and staff.

I can assure you that visiting skilled nursing facilities is nothing new for me. I have visited many people in numerous skilled nursing facilities over the years in both my role as a social worker and as clergy. But until now I have never really looked at what was going on around me. I would just rush in with tunnel vision, my focus targeted on finding the room and resident that I was visiting, and after my visit rush out, most usually with my nose pointed downward as I read messages on my cell phone.

You might say, I visited these facilities in darkness.

This new way of visiting the facility – forced, as it were to be among the residents and the staff - not rushing through the halls with blinders on, has been a truly eye opening and unbelievably humbling experience.

You might say, the Light of Christ has broken through my darkness.

Let’s not kid ourselves, caring for people with advanced dementia, end stage Alzheimer’s Disease and a host of other disabling medical conditions is an exceptionally difficult job. A job comprised of many demanding and sometimes unpleasant and demeaning tasks. It is a job, quite frankly, that I could never do.

So, when I say that I have observed the love and the Light of Christ at this facility – I mean it. I really mean it.

Each resident is lovingly known and cared for. Each resident is respected and assisted no matter what their medical or physical need. Each staff member, many clearly exhausted, makes every effort to be present when a resident expresses a need, a concern, a fear.

Being among these residents and their caretakers these past few weeks and observing their actions and interactions has made Jesus’ statement, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand” stand out for me in a very new way.

It has also brought new meaning – new and powerful meaning to tonight’s gospel reading and foot washing.

John begins tonight’s passage saying, “…Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”

Jesus knows that this is his final hour with his disciples. He knows that a humiliating and painful death is just hours away. Yet he does not focus on himself, he continues to focus, in love and with love – agape - on the other – on his disciples.

Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”

When Jesus says, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand” he is referring to what happens next – the foot washing. In washing the disciple’s feet Jesus is establishing for the them an example of sacrificial love – of service, of humility, of an upside-down kind of understanding of God’s love – God’s grace, and salvation. A love that is based in humility and salvation.

“You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand”

Jesus in his love for his disciples is not frustrated by their continued lack of understanding of who he is and what his message is. Despite the many signs that he has given them - No matter what he says or does, they just don’t seem to get it – not even Peter, who seems completely mystified by what is happening. The disciples continue in darkness.

No, Jesus is not frustrated, but he is determined. Determined to continue through love, sacrificial love, agape, to demonstrate what he means when he says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another.”

And, Jesus is determined to show the disciples how his love is manifested in the world. He washes their dirty, ugly feet. He performs the work of a common servant – not by commandment, but out of love.

The foot washing is also symbolic. In the foot washing the disciples are cleansed, perhaps we might even use the term baptized, by Jesus so that they may also cleanse, heal, love others. Jesus demonstrates so powerfully that after his death and resurrection the disciples’ authority will come not through displays of power, but through acts of sacrificial love, servitude – the servitude modeled by Jesus in the washing of feet.

This poignant last supper scene, Jesus’ last moments with his disciples, Jesus’ acts of humility and sacrificial love immediately precedes the moment of absolute darkness that occurs at the end of tonight’s service – the stripping of the altar, the chanting of Psalm 22 with its haunting refrain,

“My God, my God why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress...They stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them; they cast lots for my clothing. Be not far away, O Lord; you are my strength; hasten to help. My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

The gradual darkening of the church – darkening that continues until there is no light. The Light of Christ eliminated.

Yet despite the grief that we will experience as the light dims, leaving us in total darkness, Christ gone, this night needs also to be a night of thankfulness.

Unlike the disciples in the upper room who are left in complete darkness at the close of this evening, we are a people who have experienced the resurrection. We know the rest of the story, Christ crucified on the cross in humiliation; Christ risen in glory, our sins washed away through his sacrificial death.

Understanding the full meaning of the foot washing is central to our journey from darkness into light – to our journey as servants of Christ. Jesus’ command to love, love sacrificially, translates to love dirty, deformed feet, love the outcast, love all those who suffer. The command to love one another just as Jesus loves us means to love as a servant washing each other’s feet, not as a king sitting apart and aloof. Jesus’ command mandates that our love is directed to the least of these, the lost, the needy, the poor – those in darkness.

Servant love – agape – is not easy. No matter how deep we believe our faith to be – no matter how frequently we proclaim our intent to serve according to God’s will – this agape servanthood role is not an easy one to carry out. That was my “aha” moment this Lent. Watching the skilled nursing facility residents and staff interact I continually thought of the foot washing – of Jesus washing away the pain and the suffering of those in darkness.

Perhaps most importantly, it became so very clear to me that being a servant – God’s servant – following the servant model given to us in love by Jesus, is very, very hard. It is something that requires continued humility, and a deep commitment to the other.

It requires us to love the other as Christ loved us – all of us, all of us who are a very broken people – you, me and everyone else.

As you come forward to participate in tonight’s foot washing, I pray that you will meditate on John’s haunting phrase, “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” I pray that as your feet are washed you will imagine Jesus kneeling in front of you, washing your feet in tenderness, in love. And, I pray that as you wash the feet of the other, you will see Christ in that person, and you will experience yourself washing the feet of Christ who loves you to the end.