11th Sunday after PentecostProper 13, Year B – Bill Harkins
The Collect
Let your continual mercy, O Lord, cleanse and defend your Church; and, because it cannot continue in safety without your help, protect and govern it always by your goodness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Gospel: John 6:24-35
The next day, when the people who remained after the feeding of the five thousand saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus.
…Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
In the Name of the God of Creation who loves us all, Amen.
Good morning, and welcome to Holy Family on this 11th Sunday after Pentecost. Thank you, to each of you, for being here this morning as we take another step together on the journey toward finding our next rector. We welcome Canon Sally Ulrey here this morning, and we are so grateful to her for helping to shepherd this process. Sally, we thank you so much for being here today, and for your ministry in the Diocese. We have two Hebrew Bible texts available in the Lectionary for today, one from Samuel, and one from Exodus. Both involve complicated men—David and Moses—who were perhaps paradoxically called to lead. David was a narcissist and misogynist who, against all odds repented, confessed to Nathan, and grew to become a leader, despite his horrific acts in relation to Uriah. In the reading from Exodus this morning we find a people in transition and a leader, in Moses, also in transition or, perhaps in a process of transformation as he faced the wrath of the whole congregation of the Israelites who complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. “Why did you bring us here,” they lamented…saying it would have been better to die as slaves in Egypt rather than starve in the desert. Change is hard indeed. Walter Brueggemann, my erstwhile colleague from Columbia Seminary, teaches about three kinds of journeys: journeys of Orientation, Disorientation, and New or re-Orientation. And, we know this pattern well as Christians and Episcopalians in our journey during Holy Week from Palm Sunday to Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter… and on into this long, green season of Pentecost. This sequence is part of our liturgical DNA.
This familiar pattern is one about which Richard Rohr and other authors have written as part of—indeed essential to—our spiritual journey. It is also about our “salvation,” understood here as healing, because we are indeed “healed” by knowing and surrendering to this universal journey of reality. Knowing the full pattern allows us to let go of the first order, accept the disorder, and, sometimes hardest of all—to grieve our losses and trust the new reorder. In some ways during this season of our lives together at Holy Family, we are living out our own version of that Exodus journey.
St. Ignatius, one of our spiritual forefathers and mothers, wisely said that we must learn to practice what he called “Holy Indifference.” When we encounter those liminal, transitional seasons where we must let go of our illusion that we can order and control the world through whatever means we seek to do so. Release of control and giving control over to God will show itself as increased attention to compassion and generosity, and less attention to rules and regulations and “the way we’ve always done things.” This will normally be experienced, Rohr says, as a move toward humility and real community. It may also mean that we can find new and previously undiscovered leadership abilities in ourselves, and new ways of being in community; perhaps in ways that are surprising.
“Leadership” is a broad topic, and we may be tempted to think it doesn’t apply to us on a personal level. I want to challenge that notion, and invite us to think together about leadership, and about how we might lead ourselves and others on this Exodus journey during this season. The origin of the word “leader” means, simply, to guide. So let’s think together about how we might guide one another as we move out of disorientation, and on toward reorientation. As some of you have heard me say in other contexts, a growing paradigm in the Episcopal Church places increasing importance on lay leadership. Indeed, the new mission statement mantra in the Diocese of Colorado is “Lay led…clergy supported.” Now, there are many reasons for this change, realities shared by sister denominations in mainline Protestantism. But the basic reality is that we are in a profound paradigm shift in our corner of Christendom. More than half of our congregations cannot afford to pay for a full-time priest. It is simply not sustainable. And this is true in dioceses bigger than ours and smaller dioceses as well. Across the country we have a LOT less full-time jobs. And some of those that are “full-time” are the results of partnerships that mean the priest is serving two positions—two or more congregations, to make one full-time job. This helps to explain why young clergy are frustrated when they hear there is a “clergy shortage” and yet still can’t find a suitable call, and especially when the system we’ve inherited assumes that transitional deacons become curates. I hear people say that this means “we need more bi-vocational clergy.” That may be right. But the system we have inherited isn’t built that way and we still are relying on seminary-trained clergy. I know an associate rector who is a pharmacist and a pastor, and after three years of searching our sister parish in Clarkesville has now hired a part-time priest who is also a Licensed Counselor: it isn’t as simple as it sounds to manage those competing demands, but with lay leadership it may actually be enlivening and even prophetic. Regardless, these changes will take vision and purpose and time to make that shift. In the meantime, what seems clearest to me is that lay leadership is more important than ever. Along with many who study church history and read the tea leaves looking ahead, I think we are in the early stages of a reformation. I may be wrong, but the old model of a full-time seminary-trained priest in every congregation is not coming back. We are learning, growing, changing, adapting, hoping, trusting, and loving our way into a new reality. And always, as our Prayer Book reminds us, with God’s help.
Now, you may see yourself as a leader, you may not…. But Quaker Educator Parker Palmer says that “Leadership” is a concept we often resist. It seems immodest, even self-aggrandizing, to think of ourselves as leaders. But if it is true that we are made for community, then leadership is everyone’s vocation, and it can be an evasion to insist that it is not. When we live in the close-knit ecosystem called community, everyone follows and everyone leads.” No matter who or where we are, we may be called to lead in this threshold season, and to practice resurrection in ways that may surprise us. Leadership is not an identity; rather, it is a role; leading is not who we are; leading is what we do – at least some of the time.
And I don’t believe that leaders are born any more than great violinists or runners, or teachers, or surgeons or football players are born. I believe that leadership can be learned – primarily through practice and experience—and that it can take an infinite variety of forms. Indeed, it may be that when we bump up against our own limitations, and those things in relation to which we are afraid, we can discover in ourselves the capacity to lead in ways that may surprise us. And we have both the text from this week and last featuring David, and from Exodus, excellent examples, because both David, a flawed leader if ever there was on, and Moses with his own limitations, were leaders, sometimes in spite of themselves… So I want to invite us to think through some of the key elements of leadership; to do so, I’m going to invoke someone we all know: Moses, was both flawed and called. Moses reminds us we do not have to be heroic or have special charisma; he did not seek the job – there was no ad on Linked In saying “prophet needed to lead exodus – forever reshape relationship with YHWH”; Moses was attuned to the problem (they were slaves) and attuned to the sacred (he saw a burning bush); he was present and awake…he was willing to show up, and pay attention; he responded to the need and the opportunity; he did the job that had to be done, despite being flawed and called…He articulated a vision, and let’s remember that imagination and resilience emerge out of liminal, transitional times and spaces.
Moses mobilized the people, and persevered to realize/achieve that vision: Moses’ leadership… and ours, has a pastoral quality because leading helps others claim their own leadership. And let’s remember that Jesus always helps grow people up; does not infantilize them. Today’s Gospel is followed by a scene of anxious disciples uncertain what to do about more people coming to be fed…and he says to the disciples, “You give them something to eat!” thus empowering their ministry. Moses acted; he took next steps even with limited info and a willingness to experiment and take risks. He was willing to go through immediate discomfort for a greater good; the “acting” of leadership is hard, sometimes messy, and harrowing. Moses heard the lamentations of the people, and pushed on. And here’s a bit of wisdom based on my own hard-won experience…we must each be aware of our need to be liked and our need to make everyone happy; these will cripple us every time. There is no need to become a quivering mass of availability. My friends, leadership is messy work, spiritual work & creative and imaginatively prayerful work…Being a leader in this or any season asks of us that we be willing to go deep within; it is a spiritual journey on which we face our own shadows and light, our own gifts and graces, as well as our limitations. Leading can be hard, and it can be lonely; we need to take care of ourselves. It asks of us that we let go of control enough to trust God and improvise. The truth is that many of us will be called to lead the church into new territory; in a season of uncertainty and change. We are all priests of the church by virtue of our Baptism. We are all called to lead. And we never know how our efforts to lead, no matter how small, my touch the lives of others. Near the end of Deuteronomy, Moses is telling Joshua: Be strong. Be courageous. Do not be afraid. God is with you. He will not leave you. He will not forsake you. Do not be afraid! Mostly, Moses sees God choose people in ways finally about abundance, an abundance made manifest in today’s Gospel, which also refers to Moses and the Exodus journey. And so here is this heart-grabbing wisdom that Moses offers with open hands: Do not be afraid because we know that the God who guides us is the One who goes before us. Perhaps, in this season of change, even our smallest gestures of compassion and grace, reaching out, choosing to be in relationship, are all forms of leadership each of us can practice. This is leadership that requires only our willingness to take the first step…to reach out in faith.
The wonderful poet Seamus Heaney’s last words in this earthly life were written, not spoken. From his hospital bed he texted to his wife, Marie, two words: Noli timere. Don’t be afraid. These were words of courage for his beloved at a moment when God was about to do a profoundly new thing that she did not yet fully perceive. Noli timere. Fear not. Words of courage for us and for all of God’s beloved, uttered throughout Holy Scripture by prophets, poets, angels, and Jesus, himself, whenever God is about to do something new. We are to be unafraid, even in the face of that new thing we do not yet quite perceive; that new chapter that will inevitably draw us from the security of the familiar, that new thing that will undoubtedly change us in ways ultimately life giving, and flourishing, and hopeful.
In Paul’s letter to the Romans he says:
Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.
I don’t know about you, but those are core values of leadership with which I can live, and upon which I can act, unafraid to lead. Please join me, won’t you? Leadership is best shared with grace, compassion, and hospitality. And that’s who we are, together.
Amen.