Pentecost XIII, Proper 16
Isaiah 28:14-22
Hebrews 12:18-19, 22-29
Luke 13:22-30
+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I HAD a terrific vacation this summer. I know that not by memories of the enjoyable things I did, but by how refreshed and renewed I feel now. I also know it by how difficult I’ve found it to fire up my engine and get back in the groove.
While procrastinating and indulging distractions last week, I came upon an article about Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the tensions in the Anglican Communion.1 In June Time magazine published a reflective, sympathetic feature about our Communion’s pre-eminent theologian, a man of deep learning and profound spirituality.
I read this piece, and four points struck me. I then turned to our readings for today and found today’s gospel echoing these points.
First, the editors thought it necessary to point out why Anglicanism matters. They write:
It matters because, like Roman Catholicism, it is global, uniting varied ethnicities, economic levels and social attitudes in an overarching understanding of faith. But Anglicans have foregone Catholicism’s useful authoritarianism, staking their unity on a seemingly more attractive continual conversation, based on mutual respect. The sharp debate over homosexuality threatens the unity, and crystallizes a challenge facing everyone in an uneasy, newly wired world: can the North – rich and imbued with an ethos of individual rights – and the poorer South find a constructive interdependence?
The Time article describes Archbishop Rowan as ‘first among equals,’ but also as a ‘lion-tamer-minus-whip.’ When we are most true to Anglican polity and tradition, our bishops haven’t acted as lion tamers. Such exercise of coercion and control is not the Anglican way, and it’s not the way of Jesus. Our way takes the example of Jesus seriously. Our Lord exercises dominion not in power and control, but in love and service. He wins hearts and minds through discussion and reflection, through his example and holiness, more than through command and force.
The Anglican model of church governance, our ecclesiology, is for grownups. It sees each of its members as ministers of Christ and nurtures their gifts. It’s not clergy ridden, but honors, encourages, depends upon lay leadership and lay decision-making. When we are at our best, we share responsibility widely. Our Church airs its dirty laundry and acts with transparency; it takes on relatively few pompous and majestic pretensions. Difficult, ambiguous matters are not forced into clear cut black and white answers. Authority doesn’t dictate and direct. Its design is much more Christ-like.
Our church expects us to be grown ups; Anglicanism isn’t for babies. It’s easy to look to authority and be told what to do, but that encourages a childish dependence; that stunts growth; that prevents maturity. Parents teach children to make decisions for themselves in reflection and patience, to think about other people, to assume responsibility, to anticipate the future, to learn from experience, to think about the big picture, to accept uncertainty, to appreciate (and not feel threatened by) ambiguity, to talk through conflicts, to recognize that we’re not always right and that we may not always get our way. Anglicanism expects this from her members, and our communion gets sick when we don’t do this.
Today’s gospel implies that salvation is not something we passively accept. It doesn’t just happen to us. Rather, it demands something from us. Jesus tells us, “strive to enter by the narrow door.” The Greek word for ‘strive’ has the same root as ‘agony.’ Entering heaven, having a fuller life, requires commitment and sacrifice from us; it can be a struggle, even painful. It’s about growing up. It’s a lifelong process.
Second, drawing inspiration from S. Paul, Archbishop Rowan emphasizes the necessity of talking to one another, trying to understand the experience of others, developing the humility to be open to surprise. He sees the truth of ‘constructive disagreements,’ but that requires discussion and mutual learning. The Archbishop believes that God intends that we “learn [something] even from the people we most dislike or instinctively mistrust.”
Most of the ancient Jews loathed and resented their Gentile oppressors. Jews assumed that they would be vindicated: God would welcome them into heaven, but cast out their Gentile bullies. God favored only the Jews and excluded the rest. Jesus attacked their certainty. One of the central themes of Jesus’ gospel is that things are going to be reversed – the last first and first last. We’re going to be surprised.
Being welcomed into heaven does not come from an automatic, superficial privilege – like who you are related to, even if it’s Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Those you expect to be on the outside may be on the inside, and you may be on the outside instead of the inside. The implicit message is: “You may have something to learn from that Gentile, from your enemy and oppressor. Don’t be too sure of yourself and your rightness and privilege.”
Third, the Time articles suggests that Rowan Williams is walking the way of the cross. One of his friends says that he’s being crucified by two extremes. Like Jesus, he’s disappointing everyone, not living up to their demands.
Rowan Williams’ “natural sympathies and theological understanding” would have him side with those who want wider acceptance of homosexuality. Before assuming the See of Canterbury, Williams argued that scripture doesn’t assume that reproductive sex is normative; he argued that condemnation of same-sex intimacy requires either a fundamentalist reading of very ambiguous scriptural texts or a problematic, non-scriptural theory.
What’s particularly impressive is that since becoming Archbishop, Williams has changed his tune. He has become an honest broker between the two sides of the argument. He has not advocated one way or the other. Instead, he looks to the bigger picture: unity. He emphasizes that the Communion needs to reach consensus before acting. Many gay-rights activists accuse him of betrayal. Williams admits, “Making decisions that will lose you friends, compromise people’s perception of your integrity – that’s very hard.”
Criticism of Williams comes from both sides. People want the Archbishop to solve it all. We are naturally prone to avoid our responsibility to work through conflict with patience and restraint. On both sides, people would rather have authority figures protect them from having to deal with the full reality of a difficult issue. People like leaders to protect their fantasies, to save them from conflict or from any threat to their serenity. When we believe as our serenity requires, our hearts and minds close up; we become little people. Being a faithful Christian involves accepting challenges.2
In today’s gospel, the people tell Jesus, “We ate and drank with you and you taught in our streets. We came to the altar and ate and drank. We heard your preaching, your Word.” They have Word and sacrament, but how seriously do they take it? Jesus wants more from us. He wants to see his Word, his sacrament reflected in our lives. He wants our total commitment. He wants sacrifice from us. It’s taking up the cross.
Fourth, before he was Archbishop, Williams pressed for change in our understanding of sexuality, but he suggests that he now presses for a more profound change, that we focus on matters of greater theological and spiritual importance, matters of the “first order.” He suggests that we’ve indulged in distractions and shifted our attention from what really matters – our own relationship with God. The most urgent issue for every Christian is how’s my life in Christ. Am I growing? What’s the state of my soul? It is usually an unhealthy distraction to be trying to correct other people and fretting about them.
In today’s gospel, someone asked Jesus, “Lord, will only be a few be saved?” Jesus didn’t answer the question. The questioner is all wrapped up in a distraction. He missed the point. He wants to speculate about others, probably wanting to judge others so he could feel superior to them. He is avoiding the more urgent matter of being a faithful disciple. Jesus responded to the question by directing the focus back to the big question for each of us, our existential challenge: what are you doing now to be a faithful disciple?
Being faithful means focusing on the essentials. What are our theological and spiritual imperatives? What did Jesus do and talk about during his ministry? As much as anything, he talked about money and what we do with it, how we should care for one another. He told us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, visit the outcast, welcome the stranger, share good news. He told us to see his presence in other people, especially in the weak, the forgotten, the sinful, our enemies. He told us to pray. He told us not to judge one another. He told us to forgive seventy time seven, to forgive without end. He told us to love one another as he loves us. Jesus wants us to stay focus on what really matters – our relationship with him.
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1. David Van Biema and Catherine Mayer, ‘Anglicanism in Crisis,’ Time, 7 June 2007 (web), 18 June 2007 (print)
2. My phrasing comes from George Will, ‘What September Won’t Settle,’ The Washington Post, August 23, 2007, p. A19. He wrote the marvelous phrase: “a powerful will to believe, or disbelieve, as their serenity requires.”
© 2007 Lane John Davenport
