First, a quick note about one of the
musical selections this morning. If
you’ve looked ahead, you’ll see that we’re singing “Eternal Father, strong to
save” as the final hymn – also famously known as the Navy Hymn. That choice was made to honor our eternal and
heavenly Father on this Father’s Day. It
is not a sign that all the rain has
finally caught up with us and that we now believe we live at sea.
But on the other hand … let me play with
that idea just a bit. Maybe “at sea” is exactly where we live. And maybe this grand church, the inverted
ship that gives our nave its shape – maybe this is indeed our home on the storm-tossed
sea of these deeply uncertain times. Today,
we grieve with the people of Charleston, South Carolina; with our brothers and
sisters in the African Methodist Episcopal Church; and with the people here in
our city who came together on Thursday for a vigil at Bethel AME Church. Just as five of us from St. Andrew’s prayed
there on Thursday, we pray here this morning for the healing of hatred, for the
kingdom of the God of Love to break through the violence of racism that scars
and disfigures our national life.
This week, we may find ourselves tossed by
another wave on our uncertain seas. Any
day now, we expect a ruling from the Supreme Court about nothing less than the
legal definition of marriage. And as the
Episcopal Church’s General Convention meets this week and next, it will
consider changes in the church law that governs the Sacrament of Marriage,
too. More on that in a minute.
So, listening to today’s Gospel reading, maybe
we have more in common with the disciples than we might like. Jesus invites them to “go across to the other
side” of the Sea of Galilee (Mark 4:35) – a nice little boat ride to get away from
the crowds. But out on the water, the
little boat meets raging winds, and the storm threatens to take them down. If a bunch of fishermen are scared on the
water, there’s probably good reason to be scared. And, by the way, where is their Lord and
master? Asleep on a cushion, out of
harm’s way. Really? Finally, the disciples can’t take it anymore;
they wake Jesus up and yell at him, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re
perishing?!” (Mark 4:38). Jesus looks at
them, and shakes his head, and commands the wind and the sea to be still. It works.
The display of power is, literally, awesome. But Jesus was proclaiming his real message as
he slept on the cushion. It may be the
only instance in Scripture of prophetic napping. “Why are you afraid?” he asks them. “Have you still no faith?” (Mark 4:41) Take a deep breath, he says. Follow my lead. Sometimes calm is a prophet’s best way to
speak for God.
This morning, I want to focus on the storm
of same-gender marriage. When the
Supreme Court issues its ruling, and as General Convention discusses
same-gender marriage in the Church, the cable news networks will have a field
day. So we should get ready for the wind
to blow.
Of course, strong winds blow when
high-pressure systems and low-pressure systems come together. In the Church, the low-pressure system in
which we’ve been living is a trial liturgy to bless the lifelong covenants of same-gender
couples. We haven’t had a request to use
that liturgy here at St. Andrew’s – not yet – but we’ve had a long and holy
conversation about it among the Vestry and with our bishop. At this year’s General Convention, we were
scheduled to evaluate that trial rite of blessing and determine whether and how
to authorize it for ongoing use.
That’s the comparatively low-pressure
system. The higher-pressure system is
the movement toward marriage equality in our nation. As you know, state laws governing marriage
are chaotic – generously described as a patchwork, though patchwork quilts are
usually more beautiful than the mess in which we’re living. A same-gender couple may be married in Iowa,
but if they move to St. Louis, they’re … well, other than being deeply in love
and committed to each other, their status is undefined because of a combination
of Missouri law and two appellate-court rulings. And that’s the problem. Currently, 11 states have adopted marriage
equality explicitly, and 26 others are under court rulings that make it the law
there. Thirteen states, including
Missouri, have explicitly made same-gender marriage illegal.1 Now we wait for a Supreme Court ruling on
whether state laws restricting marriage to a man and a woman are
constitutional.
What does that have to do with the
Church? Well, marriage is the only
remaining part of our social life in which the Church is directly enmeshed with
the state. When Mtr. Anne, or Fr.
Marcus, or I stand up here and preside at couple’s wedding, we are acting
simultaneously as officers of the state and as sacramental ministers of the
Church. I sign my name on the marriage
license, for the moment an officer of county government; and I sign my name in
the Church’s record book, a minister who’s helped mediate an outward and
visible sign of the immense grace of God.
It’s one of the more schizophrenic moments in the life of a clergy
person – at least an American clergy person.
If I were in England, where the Church is part of the state, I could
make sense of it. Here, I’ve always been
told we value the separation of
Church and state. Except on wedding
days.
So, amid the national conversation about
marriage equality, the Episcopal Church’s General Convention will consider
several resolutions about marriage. One
would change the Church’s laws about holy matrimony to make the language
gender-neutral, removing references to “a man and a woman” and “husband and
wife.” Another resolution would approve
the service text for the blessing of a lifelong covenant, which has been in
trial use for the past three years. And
another would approve trial forms of a marriage rite applicable to same-gender couples,
for use in those places where same-gender marriage is legal.
At the level of policies and principles, I
think we need to strive for consistency in the way we articulate the love of
Jesus Christ and our call to live that love with every breath we take. Although “foolish consistency is the
hobgoblin of little minds,” as Emerson said, I do think it’s really helpful for
a Church’s governing documents not to be in direct disagreement with each other. Our marriage rite in the Book of Common Prayer says about as clearly as possible that
marriage is between a man and a woman.
So if we change the Church’s laws to say something different – even
though it’s from a desire to embody love and justice – we’ll end up further
confusing an already confused situation.
If we’re going to make the marriage canons gender-neutral, and if we
want to be consistent in our theology and governance, we should begin the
process of changing the marriage rite in the prayer book, too, so that its
language isn’t bound to gender. Perhaps
we end up with a Rite I and a Rite II for marriage, as we have for Holy
Communion. Now, changing material in the
prayer book is a storm of its own, and (like marriage itself) it “is something not
to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly” (BCP 423). But it would
be honest.
So there you have the level of principles
and theology. Most of us – we who aren’t
bishops or convention deputies – most of us don’t live there, day to day. We live at the level of loving the person in
front of you. That’s our common life,
where theology and policy become loving pastoral care. I can tell you this much: We have
had a request for a same-gender marriage, which I am not legally allowed to
perform in Missouri (at least not this week).
Even if the Supreme Court rules in favor of marriage equality tomorrow,
Bishop Marty would still have to determine whether and how West Missouri
congregations might implement it. So I
can’t tell you yet what will come of that specific request. But I can tell you that marriage is changing
in our nation, and those changes will affect the life of the Episcopal Church here
in West Missouri, sooner or later.
Now, you don’t have to agree with me about
this, but I want to say: I believe
that’s a good thing. I’m proud to be
part of a family of Christians that has been traveling along a path toward
justice in how we practice love with the members of our household who are gay
and lesbian. And I’m proud that this
family of Christians struggles authentically as it travels that path. We move far too quickly for some and far too
slowly for others. For me, a member of
the radical middle, that tells me we’re doing our best to honor the voices of
all who gather under this big tent, faithfully discerning how to journey toward God’s love and justice.
So, as we move into General Convention,
and as we see the reports on Fox News and MSNBC about how the Episcopalians are
considering sea changes in the definition of marriage, what shall we do, here
at our level? Let me make three
suggestions.
First, don’t believe everything you
hear. To learn what’s happening at
General Convention, I’d trust the reporting of the Episcopal News Service over
the talking heads on either side of the politically charged debate.
Second, when people ask you what the heck
you crazy Episcopalians are doing now,
here’s a suggested response: We’re
wrestling, honestly and lovingly, with the fact that a major institution in our
society is in a state of flux. Some
faith communities will meet that challenge by retrenching and wishing the
conversation had never come. Well, it
has. And this is not the first time. The Church’s views on marriage, and the
institution of marriage itself, are very different in 2015 than they were in
1915 or 1815 or 1715. If you don’t
believe me, ask a woman who no longer must vow to obey her husband. Ask a woman who can now own property in her
own right. Ask a biracial couple who can
now be legally married. Or ask a
divorced person who is now welcome to
receive Communion and be remarried in this Church. The Episcopal Church may be messy, but at
least we’re trying to do honest theological reflection and create policies
that, first and foremost, embody love and justice. I think Jesus is on board with that.
And here’s a third suggestion: Remember and reflect on Jesus’ question to
his followers in the Gospel reading today:
“Why are you afraid? Have you
still no faith?” (Mark 4:40). The issues
that scream at us over cable news, the changes we see happening in our culture,
the breaking down of barriers that once comforted us in happy isolation – these
are, indeed, winds and waves battering our small boat. But Jesus was “in the stern, asleep on the
cushion” (Mark 4:39). Jesus was engaged
in an act of prophetic napping. Jesus
was literally the calm in the storm, and he calls us to follow his
example. We hear it throughout the
Bible, this narrative of God’s loving sovereignty. With the disciples, we’re tempted to ask,
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38) But as God said to Job, “Where were you when
I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:4). As our psalm today says, the Lord commands
and raises the stormy wind but also brings us out from our distress. Jesus’ silent reply to our fear is the
Father’s reply, as well: “Be still, and
know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
Help us, Lord Christ, to trust in your power
to still the storm. And make us your
prophets of holy calm.
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