“Be persistent, whether the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching. For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths.”
There are some Sundays when I’m honestly doubtful about what I could possibly add to a Bible that has already read us, so to speak, and interpreted the times we live in. You don’t need me to tell you what kind of mythical news outlets and Twitter accounts distract us from the truth, as the second letter to Timothy warns. Nor do I need to tell you who might be the allegorical widow and the unjust judge in Jesus’ parable: you already know many of each type. Which is not to say that we’d always agree on who is whom in the current political climate, but I think I can say with confidence that corrupt judges and aggrieved women seeking justice are present among us right now.
I will also say that the good people of St. Paul’s who were out on the streets protesting yesterday, or gathered at Grace Cathedral for diocesan convention, are some pretty persistent seekers after justice. So here’s your good news for today—and every day—God will grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night. “I tell you,” said Jesus, “he will quickly grant justice to them.” I believe this at the core of my being, even though the arc of history that bends towards justice can seem so very long.
But take heart, because so much good can happen along the way. Gathering, protesting, healing, patience in teaching: these are all the work of Jesus. And we never have to do them alone. The day after Diocesan Convention, I feel especially grateful for the work of strategic visioning that our Bishop has been leading us in. And I want to tell you a bit about it, because hearing the stories of our sibling Episcopalians—both the hard and the good of their experiences—is food for the long journey towards justice.
A little background on process. Our new Bishop, Austin Rios, called for the visioning exercise, but he insisted that it belong to all of us. So he engaged a broad-based Social Discernment model with diverse diocesan leadership and listening sessions that included approximately 450 people and elicited approximately 385 stories of ministry. There’s a lot to the vision that emerged from all this listening, so I encourage you to read at least the summary, which is shared on the diocesan website. But I thought to highlight some aspects that might feel familiar and hopeful for you. Our diocese—that is, our community of Bay Area congregations sharing common ministry—has discerned that we must better support ministries with children, youth and young adults. And we must identify and equip the leaders who do this well, as well as other leaders with gifts for emerging models of ministry.
We also need to better align our diocesan ministries to support congregations, and do this collaboratively because none of us can or should be expected to solve all of the problems of being church alone. We need to set aside our deficit thinking and trust that God has given us sufficient resources, time and talent to live into the mission we have been given. And we’re committed to doing this with financial transparency and accountability.
Some goals near and dear to my heart—and to yours, because you live it every day—are centering the voices of our diverse congregations, so that we may all learn from their vitality, resilience and joy. So we’ll get better at language and cultural competency, and develop paths for ordination that respect the experiences of people who may have great gifts of persuasion, if not privilege.
Finally, we’ll pray and work towards healing where it’s needed. It’s hard to be one body where trust is eroded, and that’s not just true in the institutions of the church. But we can practice our good Episcopal citizenship right here, beginning by listening with respect and compassion to the stories of those who have experienced hurt and marginalization. The widows in our midst, we might say.
I believe that we are capable of all this, and much more. Not because we are so great, but because our God is great, and is faithful through us. And—God knows—our reconciling ministry is needed now more than ever. But it will take time, and there will be struggle along the way. I don’t want to sugarcoat this reality, any more than I would sugarcoat the Bible’s costly wisdom. Life with God is good and holy, but it may not always be glad and happy. Our forefathers and foremothers knew this well.
When I was a child—or at least a naively hopeful young Christian—I found our Old Testament reading of Jacob wrestling with the man at Jabbok bewildering. Why would God appear so mysteriously to his chosen one? Why would he fight with him—and even wound him—just because of his perfectly reasonable desire for a blessing? This is not the tidy message of children’s bedtime stories. But we grow up and wrestle with God for a long night or perhaps even a lifetime, and the truth comes into focus like light emerging at dawn. We don’t control God. We don’t set the rules of the wrestling match, nor do we know the timetable for when it will end. But this doesn’t mean we don’t continue to insist on blessing, because blessing is what God gives.
And here at St. Paul’s, we do insist on and share God’s blessing, no? We bless babies and unions of loving adults and homes and congregations. We bless the dying—as our Prayer Book bids us—and soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous. All for your love’s sake, the prayer goes. And that, my friends, is the magic word. Love. The hermeneutical key, as the theologians would say. Or—as former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has put it more simply and directly—if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.
So by all means, let’s persevere in love, together with our parish and diocesan community. Let’s not be distracted by fake news. That’s the scriptural teaching. Yes, and… there’s another lesson—a parable, if you will—embedded in the Bible readings we heard this morning. One which is perhaps the clearest analogy for the persistent love of God. It is Jesus himself, persisting regardless of the cost. Jacob wrestled for the love of God, even at the cost of a wounded hip. Paul counseled Timothy to stay true to the teaching which is—as Jesus summarized it—to love God and neighbor. Jesus identified with the widow and the orphan and all who faced an unjust legal and political system. Until he himself became its victim, which is how love’s final victory was able to manifest itself through his own wounded body.
This is the promise of resurrection, which is the heart of our Christian faith. This is our hope, this is our joy, and this is why we persevere. On this life-giving love hangs all the law and the prophets. So let us pray always and not lose heart, for as long as it takes love to win.
