So... Who's next?

The Big Story of the Past Week is how two of the main television networks just shut down two late-night comedians for doing their craft... Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel. There is a video going around of a speech by John Stewart at the Kennedy Center reminding us that comedians are the "banana peel in the coal mine" (a wonderful image!), and that those in power are particularly sensitive to being made fun of. More precisely, tyrants hate being laughed at.

So, in addition, to suggesting that now might be a very good time to revisit and watch closely the film (and play) "Cabaret," and doing all we can to support and hold up not just free expression in the arts, but also holding up it's sibling, a free and unfettered press. 

We in the work of ministry, both lay and ordained, ought to be particularly watchful. Because, make no mistake, we're next. If not next, then we're at least on the list.

It's strangely odd and ironic (not to mention moronic), that the folks cheering on the powers that shut down both Kimmel and Colbert, are often in their way super-duper religious, and not so long ago they were cheering on a movie about a pastor and theologian, Dieterich Bonhoeffer, who was not only jailed, but later executed, for talking back to (and organizing against) the German fascist regime under Adolf Hitler. But their take on Bonhoeffer is deeply flawed and distorted, because for Matraxias (and his gang of a-historical preachers) to make this work outside the cinema, they have to make the actual tyrant into the good-guy, and  make the culture into the tyrant. Sure, mentioning this might strain Godwin's Law to the breaking point, but it is nonetheless true.

So, if it's comedians today will it be clerics tomorrow?

I'm not trying to be dramatic here. I mean, I am sure that last January 20th, the President would have happily taken over and shut down the Cathedral Church of St. Peter and St. Paul in Washington, DC (aka the "National Cathedral") because the Episcopal Bishop of Washington spoke of the need for mercy and her prayer that the newly inaugurated president would exercise that cardinal virtue in his administration. 

His reaction? He said, "It was boring." Yeah, right. Sure. He always says that when the critique has hit home, except that instead of yawning theatrically during the sermon, he gets mad and stewed about it. Just replay the video and look at the people sitting around the president, who were watching him carefully, weighing his reactions as frightened children do around an abusive parent. Because the problem is that when El Jeffe gets mad, he gets even, and he will not be happy until his opponents are both humiliated and annihilated.

Just look at the recent cabinet meeting when (and not for the first time) each member of the cabinet took turns praising the president for his wit, wisdom, intelligence, and vision. No honest assessments here, and the only bad news for this crew will be whatever the boss wants to hear.

Which brings me back to my question... who's next?

Pastor Martin Niemöller's poem, "First They Came," comes to mind, and if you haven't already thought of it or don't know it, take a moment and read it here. 

The bottom line is that when the networks have been cowed, the comics silenced, the press shackled, and those in power even down to the most local level have all lined up in obedience, who will speak about ethics, morals, justice, and who will speak for the powerless, the imprisoned, and the silenced? 

Sure, there are plenty of clerics who are thrilled that voices that offend them (or make fun of them) are knocked off the air. But that's only biblical, just look at the all the court prophets who sidled up to the kings of Israel and Judah, while the biblical prophets were put to death or chased into the deserts. As someone once said, "they have their reward." 

We know when it will happen: when denominations are held hostage, threatened, and taken to to court for doing what faithful people do, then we'll know.

It's already been tried here and there on the micro level. Like the recent wrangle between a Christ Episcopal parish in Tom's River, New Jersey, when the local mayor tried to use eminent domain to take over the church's property because he did not want the feeding and sheltering of the homeless which would mess up his plans for an expanded park in his beach front town. He apparently wanted the church property used for pickleball. His plan didn't work, but it's a hint at things to come.

It looks like it's only a matter of time before the current administration tries to use to the power of government to regulate, reign in, and control religious expression. It probably won't happen quickly, but there will be indicators along the way. 

We'll know by the clerics who are invited into the White House and those who are not. That's already happened.

But soon it will spread in other more subtle ways. When the government starts handing money to religious service groups that they agree with, instead of ones that are simply neutral-- or who speak out against things the government might do or say. 

Or when denominations are black-balled or punished because their preachers or conventions say things they don't like or go places they don't want them to go. 

Or when the government picks and chooses for churches what ethical and moral issues they may (or may not speak to), and pressures them into how they may act on it (as when, in some states, clerics could go to jail for officiating at inter-racial marriages). 

There are plenty of examples all through history, including our own, of faith communities and their leaders jailed, run out of down, and executed for going against the prevailing faith of the moment. It's not out of the question. 

And to tell you the truth, my own denomination and it's English forebears have been down that path. My own denomination does, after all, come from a state church tradition. And our forbears have both been jailed by their religious enemies, working in cahoots-- heck! who were the government! (Remember Oliver Cromwell, as well as the New England Puritans?) My tradition also participated with the government in religious coercion (think the so-called Indian Schools in both the US and Canada run by Episcopalians and Anglicans). So we don't come to this debate either cleanly or naively.

Which bring us back to the question: if it's comics today, who's next? Artists? Musicians? Writers? Scientists? Journalists? If that's the case, then theologians, clerics, and the everyday faithful will not far behind.

Many folks say that religion enjoys a special, even a favored, space in the public square. And some don't like that. Every now and then, we'll go through a cycle where someone grouses about the tax-exemption for houses of worship and their ministries. Churches, synagogues, mosques, of all stripes and varieties can be (if they do the paperwork... it's not automatic... and mileage varies by state and municipality) tax-exempt along with charities, private schools and universities, not-for-profit hospitals, and so on. 

Despite the claim that this is an unconstitutional favoring of government towards religion, if you look closely, it's not really. The people who don't like this set up forget that the point of the charitable tax-exemption is that these institutions--both religious and secular-- do a civic good that government cannot or should not do. 

At the same time, the critics have a point, but only if the exemption went only to particular traditions or denominations leaving the rest out. But every religious group can benefit from this if they choose... which is why some unscrupulous folks sell mail order ordinations and set up religious-looking groups as they try to rake in the dough without either oversight or taxation in their desire to cash in.  

[Hey, look, I live in Clearwater, Florida, where L. Ron Hubbard set up shop, so I know how this can play out in the extreme! Keep in mind that one of the first signs of a religious charlatan is that they deliberately avoid interacting with other faith groups except when they want to cherry-pick members. They want all the perks and none of the accountability. Our local group ain't the first to play this game, but they do it on a grand scale! But I digress.]

Anyway, that's the risk you take when you treat everyone the same. Most of the folks claiming the various religious exemptions are sincere and ethical. Some are not, which gives the rest of us a bad name. But as, Uncle Ben said to Peter Parker, with great power comes great responsibility. Religious groups who claim the exemption have the responsibility to use that privilege to do social and civic good. 

One of those responsibilities means promoting civil conversations about public ethics. The government doesn't tell us what to believe, how to worship, how we organize ourselves, and whom we select as our ministers, precisely so that we can be free to talk about morals, ethics, justice, and meaning freely and without coercion.

The rub comes when people in power do things that are immoral, unethical, unjust, and coerce others into either cooperation or silence. If the government starts doing that, who will speak up? If not the faith community, then who? Naturally, there are journalists, activists, scholars, citizens, and even (occasionally) politicians. But the faith community, no matter their tradition or beliefs (even non-theistic faiths) have a particular skill set  in ethics (or they ought to!) so they have an important role in freely and firmly speaking on these issues in the public square. 

Yeah, but, I hear you say, religious groups don't not always agree... to which I say, that's kinda the point!

So when certain things happen, especially when the pace picks up, we need to pay attention.

It was not an accident the day that President Trump decided to use the power of the military and police to clear a crowd and march across the street to St. John's Episcopal Church, Lafayette Square. [Also see here.] 

Nor is it an accident that he sells Bibles interwoven with civic documents and embossed with his signature. 

And it is not happenstance when he gathers ministers and evangelists (most of whom have a television, broadcast, and internet presence) to gather around him in a show of prayer. 

Or when he goes to the Museum of the Bible and declares that the government ought to "encourage" an hour of prayer per week. Which begs the question, would that 'encouragement' look like and who would design, promulgate, and enforce it?

Then, to top it all off,  there is his strange image of Trump dressed as a Bishop on an official White House web site. He said he was only joking. As Pope Leo pointed out, he is sending a message.

The message is as clear as the recent cancelling of Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel, and the taking over of the Kennedy Center. He was crystal clear during the cabinet meeting where the time was spent lavishing praise on the President. He showed his hand in his reaction to Bishop Marianne Budde's sermon at the National Cathedral on Inauguration Day. It's very clear that as far as the White House is concerned, the only messages that should come from stages, screens, and pulpits are ones approved by the Administration... and these must always compliment the president.

Imagine! Imagine when the power of government is used to regulate what is preached, taught, and worshipped in your local congregation. Sooner or later, someone will decide that the price for the privilege of being a charity, a school, a university, or a faith community will be constant and consistent fealty to The Leader. 

In this kind of world, the cost of disobedience won't just be taxation... it will be regulation. And regulation requires monitoring. And monitoring means the end of the trust that is the heart of a healthy civic life. 

The question is: who's next?

Looking Evil in the Eye Again!

Updated March 3, 2025 from an earlier post and column published on May 17, 2022

Don’t you wish sometimes that you could just gather up all the evil in the world and just dump it into a rocket-ship and fire it into the sun or something? I don’t know about you, but this has (again!) been one of those weeks for me.

In Luke 8:26-39, we see what Jesus did for a man who was possessed by demons and it sure seems like Jesus bundled up all that evil and sent it away… into a herd of swine that ran headlong into the water to drown! After yet another mass shooting, this time at a supermarket in Buffalo, New York, where the gunman chose violence after reading fear-filled screeds on-line and elsewhere filled his writing and conversation with all kinds of hateful language and the bizarre idea that “white culture” is being “replaced” by immigrants and people of color.

I don’t know about you, but I sure would like to send all this evil far, far away!

We Episcopalian Christians take evil seriously! Every time we baptize someone, the candidates, or their parents and sponsors, have to answer two questions:

“Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” 

And:

“Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”

And to both questions we respond, both for ourselves and (often) for the person being baptized:

"I will with God's help."

Yes. We Episcopalians do really and truly believe that these evil powers, these demons, are real and that they wreak havoc in our world. Most people scoff at such an idea…or at least whistle as they pass the graveyard… which is fine until a guy who dresses up his anger in political non-sense takes a semi-automatic firearm into a nightclub and shoots over ahundred people, killing forty-nine. Or until a guy who decides to call himself“death to traitors” kills a member of parliament in the UK. Or until a guy stalks and murders a young singer before a concert. Or, as happened last week, an angry, fear-filled coward stakes out a supermarket in a mainly blackneighborhood, dresses himself up in body armor, and then systematically kills ten people. Or when our President and Vice-President decide to trap and humiliate another country's president, Volodymyr Zelenkey, who is seeking help from our nation to deal with the foreign army that invaded his country three years ago... and then laughs it off as "good television." 

When you see all that, then evil becomes very real, doesn’t it?

The spiritual powers that rebel against God and corrupt and destroy the creatures of God show themselves mainly through fear and hatred.  These are not only emotions, but they are a spiritual state. It is very easy to be tempted to confront evil with more evil…to pile on fear in response to fear, to prejudice in response to prejudice, to meet violence with violence.

But if you really want to fight evil and win, Jesus shows us how: we do the things that evil hates!

Jesus does that in Luke's Gospel. When confronted with a madman who screams at and threatens people, who throws himself to the ground and roams among the dead in a cemetery, as if he were a first century version of someone steeped in the dark web. 

But look at what Jesus does: Instead of doing some sort of violence against the man, Jesus confronts the evil… he meets evil, looks it in the eye, names it, and then casts it out!

Look again at Jesus’ dialogue with the man possessed:

Jesus says, “What is your name?” And the man can’t even answer. The demon within him responds, “Legion.” A legion was a Roman military unit, terrifying in its power and the number of heavily armed soldiers who could overrun another army or a country. What possessed this man was not a simple fear, or a hatred of a single thing—the demon that ripped this man’s life apart and separated him from all society was a whole constellation of fears, they manifested in hatred of life itself, and even when the Life of the World invited him to life, he cried out, “DO NOT TORMENT ME!”

People rightly responded in horror and pain to the awful events last week and people had many names for the evil that we witnessed: “terrorist,” “white supremacist,” “self-hater,” “deranged.” The names were Legion, just like the man who dwelt in the tombs in Gerasa way back two thousand years ago confronting Jesus, the incarnate love of God, who stood calmly before the face of evil, looking it in the eye.

Jesus was not distracted by the evil but sees it for what it is…He even dialogues with it. But he stays focused on healing the man possessed instead of playing evil’s deadly game. The demons can’t take it. They flee from the man and away from Jesus and jump into that herd of swine.

What drove these demons out of the man…what made life unbearable for the evil Jesus faced…was the power of Jesus’ love. It was Jesus’ unflinching, realistic, clear-eyed love that made these demons want to take up residence somewhere else. Jesus was doing the things that evil hates!

Which is what Jesus is teaching us during this terrible week: if you want to cast out demons, do the thing that evil hates.

Evil hates justice and thrives on division. Seek reconciliation. 

Evil loves it when we are silent about injustice and marginalize the poor. Speak up and work on behalf of the oppressed and outcast. 

Evil drives us to be selfish and care only for ourselves. Cast out evil with compassion.

Evil wants us to be alone and cut off. Drive evil crazy with your prayer, your trust in God, and your life in Christian community.

Evil flourishes when we hate in God’s name. If you really want to cast out demons, love.

Evil feeds on our resentment and our list of wrongs. Cast out evil. Forgive.

Evil wants us to focus on scarcity. Fight evil. Be generous.

Evil grows when we get caught up in anxiety. Cast out a demon. Let go of needing to control every outcome.

Evil needs violence—in every form, physical and emotional—so fight evil and live peaceably.

Jesus shows us, in his unflinching encounter with a legion of demons and on his journey to the cross, that he had God’s power and God’s authority which allowed him to confront evil on God’s terms. By simply living and doing what he was called to do; by teaching, healing, forgiving, listening, and by welcoming the stranger and being a companion to the outcast he was doing all the things that evil hates…and drove evil crazy in the process! They wanted to run away! When Jesus was crucified, it looked as if evil won. But, in fact, as we see in the resurrection, evil was defeated. Forever!

And we saw it, too.

We saw it in every candle lit, every prayer offered, every first responder who put themselves on the line to care for wounded, injured, and dead. We saw it in every act of love, every grieving person hugged and cared for, every frightened person embraced. Once again, one man chose to do unspeakable evil. And once again, when the chips were down, thousands upon thousands chose to do the good.

I wish we could sweep up all the evil in all the world and sent it off in a rocket-ship, far, far away. But you know what? God beat us to it! Jesus has already defeated evil and put death to flight on the cross and in his resurrection. And when we do as Jesus told the man he healed to return to where we live and “declare how much God is doing for us,” we are demonstrating that no matter how much hate, how much violence, how much cynicism and fear is out there, we have, through our baptisms, the Eucharist and the power of the Holy Spirit in this community, the power cast out evil in wonderful, surprisingly practical ways of compassion, holiness and calm.

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Check out the response by Bishop Sean Rowe, Bishop of Northwest Pennsylvania and Bishop Provisional of Western New York to the mass shooting on Saturday, May 12, 2022 in Buffalo, New York, which is within the Diocese of Western New York.  (The text may be found here.)

The Ongoing Work of Casting Out Evil

Don’t you wish sometimes that you could just gather up all the evil in the world and just dump it into a rocket-ship and fire it into the sun or something? A few weeks ago, I asked this very question in the e--newsletter column right after another public mass-shooting… the one at the Tops Supermarket in Buffalo in May. Today, we are still processing the shock of a public shooting Thursday evening at a pot-luck supper at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Vestavia Hills, Alabama.

I don’t know about you, but I am tired of having to speak to this violence over and over again.  I hate having to repeat myself. But the persistence of evil and the recurrence of gun violence seems to find its way into every corner of our society, even an Episcopal parish, not so different that our own, having a pot-luck supper.

Back in May, as it happens, I talked about how Jesus confronted evil in the Gospel appointed for today. Whether that is a “God-incidence” or not, I don’t know. But I am going with it.

The gospel today we just heard is all about what Jesus did for a man who was possessed by demons and it sure seems like Jesus bundled up all that evil and sent it away! Right into a herd of swine who then ran headlong into the water to drown. After yet another mass shootings, and news everyday of some kind of violence, hateful language and controversy, I sure would like to do as Jesus did and send all this evil far, far away!

We Episcopalian Christians take evil seriously. Every time we baptize someone, the candidates, or their parents and sponsors, have to answer two questions: “Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” And: “Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”

Yes. We Episcopalians really and truly believe that these evil powers, these demons, are real and wreak havoc in our world. Most people scoff at such an idea…or at least whistle as they pass the graveyard… which is fine until a guy who dresses up his anger in political non-sense takes a semi-automatic firearm into a nightclub and shoots over a hundred people, killing forty-nine. Or until a guy who decides to call himself “death to traitors” kills a member of parliament in the UK. Or until a guy stalks and murders a young singer before a concert. Then evil becomes very real, doesn’t it?

The spiritual powers that rebel against God and corrupt and destroy the creatures of God show themselves mainly through fear and hatred.  These are not just emotions, but a spiritual state.

And it is very easy to be tempted to confront evil with more evil…to pile on fear in response to fear, to dish out prejudice in response to prejudice, to meet violence with violence. But Jesus shows us time and again in the Gospels that if you want to fight evil and win, we must do the things that evil hates.

Jesus does that in today’s Gospel. When confronted with a madman who screams at and threatens people, who throws himself to the ground and roams among the dead in a cemetery. Instead of doing some sort of violence against the man, Jesus confronts the evil…through dialogue!

Jesus says, “What is your name?” And the man can’t even answer. The demon within him responds, “Legion.” A legion was a Roman military unit, terrifying in its power and the number of heavily armed soldiers who could overrun another army or a country. What possessed this man was not a simple fear, or a hatred of a single thing—the demon that ripped this man’s life apart and separated him from all society was a whole constellation of fears, they manifested in hatred of life itself, and even when the Life of the World invited him to life, he cried out, “DO NOT TORMENT ME!”

People rightly respond in horror and revulsion to the awful events like last week’s and people typically use many names for the evil that we witnessed: “terrorist,” “foreigner,” “self-hater.”

But this time, not so much. When a 70+ year old guy who comes to pot-luck suppers and the occasional church service shows up with violent intent, we are speechless. It defies the neat categories.

Jesus sees this in the man in today’s gospel. He says his name is Legion, because the things that drove him to tombs in Gerasa, two thousand years ago were beyond counting, let alone understanding. At least until he confronted Jesus, the incarnate love of God, who stood calmly before the face of evil.

Jesus was not distracted by the evil but sees it for what it is…He even dialogues with it. Notice how Jesus stays laser-focused on healing the man possessed instead of playing evil’s deadly game. The demons can’t take it. They flee from the man and away from Jesus into that herd of swine.

What drove these demons out of the man…what made life unbearable for the evil Jesus faced…was the power of Jesus’ love that made these demons want to take up residence somewhere else. Jesus was doing the things that evil hates!

So, what I said before in May I say again today. Jesus is teaching us that if you want to cast out demons, do the things that evil hates.

Evil hates justice and thrives on division. Seek reconciliation. 

Evil loves it when we are silent about injustice and marginalize the poor. Speak up and work on behalf of the oppressed and outcast. 

Evil drives us to be selfish and care only for ourselves. Cast out evil with compassion.

Evil wants us to be alone and cut off. Drive evil crazy with your prayer, your trust in God, and your life in Christian community.

Evil flourishes when we hate in God’s name. If you really want to cast out demons, love.

Evil feeds on our resentment and our list of wrongs. Cast out evil. Forgive.

Evil wants us to focus on scarcity. Fight evil. Be generous.

Evil grows when we get caught up in anxiety. Cast out a demon. Let go of needing to control every outcome.

Evil needs violence—in every form, physical and emotional—so fight evil and live peaceably.

Evil says we need to arm ourselves to the teeth in the face of fear— so let’s fight evil and look it in the eye.

More than one person has called me naïve and silly for saying this. But time and again, I have seen evil head for the hills every time we dare to do the things that evil hates, just as Jesus shows us, in his unflinching encounter with a legion of demons and on his journey to the cross. Jesus had God’s power and God’s authority which allowed him to confront evil on God’s terms. By simply living and doing what he was called to do; by teaching, healing, and being a companion to the outcast he did all the things that evil hates…he drove evil crazy! They wanted to run away! When Jesus was crucified, it looked as if evil won. But in fact evil was defeated. Forever.

We saw it in every candle lit, every rainbow flag flown, every act of love, every grieving person hugged and cared for, ever frightened person embraced. Once again, one man chose to do unspeakable evil. And once again, when the chips were down, thousands upon thousands chose to do the good.

I hate to keep repeating myself. But sin and evil has this way of replaying their greatest hits over and over again. I want to take the arm off the record, to hit the pause and reset buttons. To send all the evil in all the world off in a rocket-ship, far, far away.

The Good News is that God has already beaten us to it! Jesus has already defeated evil and put death to flight on the cross and in his resurrection. And when we do as Jesus told the man he healed to return to where we live and “declare how much God is doing for us,” we are demonstrating that no matter how much hate, how much violence, how much cynicism and fear is out there, we have, through our baptisms, the Eucharist. and the power of the Holy Spirit in this community, the power cast out evil in wonderful, surprisingly practical ways of compassion, holiness and calm.

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Here is a link to the bulletin for the Second Sunday after Pentecost  at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater

Here is a link to the Scripture readings for Trinity Sunday

Here is a link to a video of the sermon.

Here is a link to a video of the liturgy.

 

It’s Inside Baseball… except when it’s not!

Updated - July 7, 2022. It’s a triennial event. Every three years, as we get ready for the Episcopal Church’s General Convention, some issue, some resolution, some controversy will come up that burns up the internet airwaves and vies for the attention of clergy like me, convention deputies, and other church geeks. 

Whether or not these “hot issues” make any difference to everyday Christians… well, that’s another question.

This year’s edition of the “Hot Button Issue” comes in the form of a resolution from the Diocese of Northern California that, if approved in both the House of Deputies (laity and clergy) and the House of Bishops, would remove baptism as a prerequisite for admission to Holy Communion. There have been learned responses from eminent scholars, theologians, and preachers (lay and ordained) on both sides. And the arguments are very “inside baseball.”

[N.B. The Resolution has been deferred to the next General Convention in two years partly because of the shortened and streamlined agenda of this COVID-delayed, and abbreviated General Convention. Read more here.]

As near as I can tell, the rationale behind this resolution (and I am summarizing here) is either “hospitality” (i.e. “don’t turn aside guests and inquirers who present themselves at the communion table”) or “evangelism” (i.e. “don’t make baptism a barrier to the Good News.”)

The twenty-two theologians and church historians who have written a letter opposing the motion says (and, again, I am summarizing here) that in unlinking baptism from communion means that there is essentially nothing to get initiated into. Communion, they remind us, an action of the Christian community into which the faithful are initiated. Baptism is the Sacrament of Initiation. The Eucharist is the Sacrament of Christian community. 

The debate has devolved--as these things usually do-- into side issues, the main one being what we mean by "people" when we say in the liturgy "The Gifts of God for the People of God." That somehow, when we address the baptized at the Eucharist as the "People of God" that that makes other people who are not baptized as lesser people, or something like that. 

And then there is the whole question of whether or not folks outside the confines of the Episcopal Church even know or care about what we're doing on Sunday morning anyway. As one colleague said on social media, "Given the state of our evangelism, until people are knocking down the doors to come into our churches, I am not sure what the argument is about."

But I digress.

As I write this, I honestly can’t predict how the next General Convention will vote. Whether the proposed resolution passes or not, I know two things for sure: Initiation is hard work. And Christian community is matter of intention.

To me, the resolution is both well-meaning and unhelpful. In trying to be the most pastoral, to me it misses the pastoral mark in several ways.

To become a follower of Jesus in community assumes a certain intentionality. And our Prayer Book reflects that. In fact, the baptismal rite in our Prayer Book assumes that the norm for the baptized to be adult converts to the Christian faith. It’s just that we baptize more babies than adults because we assume that Christian families in Christian households and congregations will raise up Christian children.

Whether the person first receiving Communion is a child or a grown up, the task of the community is formation and an increasing sense of inclusion into the community of faith and the life as a follower of Jesus.

Having said that, my pastoral practice has always been to communicate the Sacrament to anyone who presents themselves to me at the Communion rail, or for that matter, the hospital bedside. I am certain that over the course of nearly forty years of ordained ministry, I have at one time or another given communion to someone who was not baptized… say, an adult who was raised in a tradition that only practiced believer’s baptism but left that tradition before it occurred and then found his or her way into an Episcopal Church. Or a person who never encountered a church before and was simply doing what everyone else in the room is doing. There are thousands of stories like this and more, and I am sure I’ve encountered folks who are living them out, knowingly or not. 

So what does one do when, as priest, one meets or pastors such a person? 

My own practice has been that when I find a congregant who is not baptized, I will care for, teach, and invite that person to baptism, preparing them along the way, and asking them, once they enter a process of catechesis, to refrain from communion until after their baptism. I have baptized enough older children, young adults (teens and college aged), and adults to know that this process, while time-consuming, works. The process of initiation is not instant gratification. It is a process of building relationship between God and the person, and between the person and their Christian community.

To the charge that not communing such a person is somehow not inhospitable, I reply that it is apex of hospitality to meet people where they are, to listen to their story, invite people into conversation, especially when that conversation is as central as a person’s relationship to God, their neighbor, and themselves. To have that conversation is to invite a person into a process of reflection, prayer, and community, and to walk with them through that whole journey.

I am, frankly, perplexed by the argument—put forth by some theologians that I have profound respect for—that baptism is a barrier to communion, because it short-circuits initiation as part of the process of full inclusion. 

To be fair, I think that for many in this debate, the argument that baptism must precede communion sounds and feels to them as if we are in the business of checking one another's papers. Kind of like this:

One thing for certain, initiation happens. 

Over the years, I’ve joined enough organizations… from workplaces, to organizations that train and certify chaplains, to volunteer fire and EMS companies, to local community theaters and choruses, and, yes, even churches… to know that every organization on the planet, every place where humans gather in groups, have rites and processes of initiation. Even something as informal as a Twelve-Step group, has a process to welcome new people, identify appropriate leaders and mentors, and to establish group norms to assure the safety and anonymity of their members. And these processes are not instantaneous.  We in the Church aren’t any different than that, even as a community founded upon the free, unconditional, unbounded grace of God.

A significant amount of textual real estate in the New Testament is spent on sorting out what it means to be a part of Christian community. The Epistles are filled with congregations working out this question. Even the Gospels, growing as they do out of various Christian communities have their own take on what it means to be a follower of Jesus in community. Sometimes they err on the side of grace (as with the inclusion of Gentiles into what started out as a Jewish sect when the Church was very young) and sometimes the communities require discipline or correction (as when Paul admonishes these early Christians to not let their liberty become an occasion for sin). Christian community is always a work in progress.

I suspect that the two halves of this argument are a side urging order and a side urging charisma. Which is a good thing! Because Christian community always experiences the tension between charisma and order, and it is in that tension where the Holy Spirit lives!

So, what about Communion?

Every Sunday, I stand before you and make this invitation: “In the Episcopal Church, all baptized Christians are welcome to receive Communion. This is Christ’s table and you are all welcome to it.”

When there are events (like weddings or funerals or the Big Holy Days) and where there may be people present who don’t how “we” do things, I give a brief instruction, including how to participate even if one wants to opt out of communion.

You want to know the funny part about my standard invitation? I wrote that little script many years ago, when I was working in Catholic Healthcare as a Chaplain in a hospital run by a community of Catholic nuns. The invitation I recite came in reaction against the experience of being excluded from Communion in that tradition!

In those days, I would go to many churches and clergy groups to talk about pastoral ministry at my Catholic hospital, and this put me in situations where I attended Roman Catholic Mass but was unable to receive because I am not, in their view, in full communion with the Bishop of Rome (ie, the Pope). I often heard a little spiel (I don’t know if they still do it) talking about “our sad divisions” and as gently as possible discouraging non-Catholics from receiving at their altar.

My weekly invitation that you hear is a deliberate reversal of that standard announcement.

So, while I follow the Episcopal Church’s official line on “open communion”—that is, Communion is open to all the baptized, I am equally committed to baptism as full and complete initiation and I believe that the Church’s normative practice is that communion grows out of baptism.

I also believe that other oft-overlooked rubrics require are important guidelines, too. Like the so-called “disciplinary rubric,” which requires us to be at peace with one another when we present ourselves for Communion, and that people who are at enmity with one another might do well to refrain from receiving until they are reconciled.

Speaking of which, I notice that the proponents of the resolution also seem to drive around the uncomfortable fact that communities don't just welcome people. They also live together, and they set norms for each other as to what is appropriate behavior and the consequences for going outside those boundaries. The aforementioned Disciplinary Rubrics are a case in point. (In nearly forty years of ministry, I have never invoked these myself. But a foundational story growing up in my household was my parents account of how in the late 1950's during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, my family's parish priest in northern Virginia once invoked these when he was confronted by a parishioner who on Sunday morning loudly objected to receiving Communion alongside a person of color.) The implication is that being in communion means being in relationship with a community and in that relationship there is at once accountability and amendment of life.

Since the time of the Apostle Paul, the long tradition of teaching in the church reminds us not to take lightly the significance of sharing Christ’s Body and Blood in community; at the same time, we are equally admonished by our Lord and the Apostle not to lay on each other any unnecessary burdens. And, finally, we are reminded in scripture not to turn the gracious liberty that we have been granted in Christ into an occasion for sin and pride.

All along the way, I keep before me something Pope Francis said not long ago, “who am I to judge?”

Which is why, I repeat, that as a practical matter, I have never, ever, refused to communicate anyone who present themselves to me at the rail (or who requests communion at the bedside). Neither in my nearly forty years of ordained ministry have I had to invoke that very long, very specialized disciplinary rubric. I will not check your papers or ask for your bona-fides.

I might urge and encourage you to be reconciled to your sister or brother, or to be sure that you are spiritually ready to receive the blessed Sacrament, I may even invite you to the sacrament of confession, but none of these are the same thing as refusal. If you are not baptized, I will certainly invite you to take the step of both coming into relationship with God in Christ and being baptized into His body, the Church, and in any event to remain in fellowship with the community and to present oneself for prayer and blessing.

At the same time, I get nervous with we start invoking modern, post-enlightenment ideas of ‘rights’ or modern ideas of ‘privilege’ on to the pastoral act of taking, blessings, breaking, and sharing the bread and wine of the Eucharist in Christian community. Because Christians are not solitary creatures, and our liberty in Christ is not a ‘right’ (in the political sense) but a grace. Christian community is a community of people living under grace who seek to follow Jesus Christ as his friends and apprentices.

The way we are fully initiated into that community is through baptism. Our communion is a sign that we have all chosen to continue in this community, this portion of the body of Christ, together. In any event, we walk this journey as followers of Jesus and any claim that we have to be a part of that community is through God’s grace. The process that we take to become apart of a given community can teach us a lot about what it means to listen for and respond to God and to live a faithful, abundant life in community. 

The particular conversation at this moment may seem like, and may in fact be, “inside baseball,” and whether or not this particular resolution passes this summer still leaves an important question before us and every follower of Jesus: how do we know and follow Christ with the people God has given us in this community at this moment? How do we become apart of the community of Christ’s followers, friends and apprentices? How are we accountable to one another in ways that lead to charity and growth? 

The answer may be as simple as an act of faith, and as mysterious as life together in Communion.

Moments of transfiguration

Sometimes crisis has this way of revealing our true character. When things are moving so quickly that all we can do is react, our true selves sometimes come to light. While sometimes we are shocked and disappointed by what we see, there are other moments when we discover depths of strength and character that we never knew we had.

On this last Sunday of the Epiphany season, we see that happen for Moses, the newly liberated people of Israel fresh from their exodus out of slavery in Egypt, and in Jesus and his disciples who witness his Transfiguration.

Moses went up to the Mountain and received the law from God. His encounter with God literally left him aglow with the holiness of God.

And in the Gospel, we hear today how Jesus encountered on the mountaintop both Moses and Elijah, who represent the fullness of the Law and the Prophets.

Jesus’ disciples want to freeze the moment in time by building booths, a kind of religious shelter, to commemorate both the moment and the spot where heaven and earth, law and prophet, God’s time and our time, came together. But a voice from heaven interrupts them and tells them that the way to understand and remember the moment is to listen to and follow the teachings of Jesus, God’s beloved Son.

The transfiguration revealed Jesus’ true nature, that he is at once fully God and fully human, and also showed us God’s purpose to bring heaven to earth. So, instead of building a shrine, Jesus’ true self is shown as he teaches, heals, and empowers ordinary people to take part in God’s work of reconciling humanity to each other, creation and to God.

In both these encounters, our need for God and our need for reconciliation is put square in our faces.

I’m sure that you have been as shocked and as captivated by the events unfolding in Ukraine as I have. We’re witnessing in real time an autocratic ruler, defined by his own fear-filled, self-serving view of history and surrounded only by people who dare not caution or correct him, brazenly invade a neighboring country whose land, people, and resources he covets. And in the process, we discover in this moment of crisis how character shows itself.

In contrast to the conqueror’s greed, we have seen numerous reports and images of people gathering in prayer both in Ukrainian Orthodox and Ukrainian Catholic churches, as well as in public parks and streets. The Ukrainian people, even those who did not vote for him, have been amazed at the leadership of the former stand-up comic, Volodymyr Zelenskyy. As I write this, his capital city is under attack, but he has not cut and run and neither has he hidden. I suspect that many people felt that he would be a light-weight, who would fold under pressure. Instead, the crisis of the invasion has revealed his true nature and inner character, and that of the Ukrainian people..

As I said, crisis often reveals character, and we are seeing it again. On this celebration of the Transfiguration, I am mindful of the many people who, in the moment of decision, chose against all odds to do the right thing, for the right reason, in the right way.

One of those people was a man named Allan McDonald. You may not have heard of him, but he was an aerospace engineer for the company that built the solid rocket boosters for the space shuttle, back in the 1980s. And he refused to certify the launch of the shuttle Challenger on January 27, 1986, because he knew that the unusually cold temperatures experienced on the Space Coast that year would make the “o-rings” on the booster brittle and liable to fail. His bosses over-ruled him, and the launch proceeded where, as we all know, the shuttle exploded about 78 seconds into its flight killing the crew. During the investigation, McDonald did not keep silence and was demoted. But after members of Congress threatened to strip the company of all future space and military contracts, they changed their mind and was put in charge of rocket engine safety protocols and engineering, and the changes he led allowed the shuttle program to resume.

In an interview after his retirement, McDonald said something which has become something of a mantra for me: he said, “always do the right thing for the right reason in the right way at the right time with the right people and you will never have regrets in your life.” He was a person whose character was revealed in a transfiguring moment.

The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who died recently at 90 years old, told the story of his own transfiguring moment. It happened when Tutu was 9 years old, while he and his mother were walking down the street at the height of the Apartheid era of his native South Africa. They were approached by tall white man dressed in a black suit. In those days in that place, when a black person and a white person met while walking on a footpath, the black person was expected to step aside, even into the gutter, to allow the white person to pass — and to nod his or her head as a gesture of respect. But that day, before a young Tutu and his mother unbelieving eyes, it was this white man who stepped off the sidewalk. And as they passed, he tipped his hat in a gesture of respect to her!

The white man was the Rev. Trevor Huddleston, an Anglican priest who was bitterly opposed to apartheid. And that tip of the hat changed Tutu’s life. When his mother told him that Trevor Huddleston had stepped off the sidewalk because he was a “man of God,” Tutu found his calling.

“When she told me that he was an Anglican priest I decided there and then that I wanted to be an Anglican priest too,” he said. “And what is more, I wanted to be a man of God.”

Huddleston later became a mentor to Tutu; and he later said that encounter was his ‘transfiguration’ that led to the transformation of a people and eventually a nation.

In his review of Philip Yancey’s book, Rumors of Another World, Keith Parkins talks about the spirit of mercy that pervaded South Africa after Nelson Mandela was released from prison.

“As apartheid drew to an end and Nelson Mandela was released from Robben Island, Mandela could have called upon the blacks to rise up and seek vengeance on the whites,” Parkins wrote. “He did not; he showed grace and appointed Desmond Tutu to head the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. There was an understandable desire for [revenge and] retribution; instead, the path of forgiveness and reconciliation was chosen.”

South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a transfiguring moment for both that nation and the world. The rules were simple — the perpetrators needed to tell the truth, the whole truth; and their victims were given the opportunity, but not be forced, to forgive. Many of the atrocities were truly horrific. A policeman called van de Broek told of how he and his fellow officers shot an 18-year-old youth, then burnt the body. Eight years later they went back, took the father and forced his wife to watch as he was incinerated in front of her. She was in court to hear that confession and was asked by the judge what she wanted.

She said she wanted van de Broek to go to the place where they burned her husband’s body and gather up the dust so she could give him a decent burial; van de Broek agreed. She then added a further request.

“Mr. van de Broek took all my family away from me, and I still have a lot of love to give,” she said. “Twice a month I would like for him to come to the ghetto and spend a day with me so I can be a mother to him.

“And I would like Mr. van de Broek to know that he is forgiven by God, and that I forgive him too. I would like to embrace him so he can know my forgiveness is real.”

Spontaneously, some in the courtroom began singing “Amazing Grace” as the elderly woman made her way to the witness stand. But van de Broek didn’t hear the hymn; he had fainted, overwhelmed. It was a transfiguring moment, where the true character of these persons was revealed.

Pastor and activist Jim Wallis tells about a time the South African government blocked a demonstration against apartheid during a worship service at St. George’s Cathedral.

“The walls were lined with soldiers and riot police carrying guns and bayonets, ready to close it down,” Wallis said. “Bishop Tutu began to speak of the evils of the apartheid system—how the rulers and authorities that propped it up were doomed to fail. He pointed a finger at the police who were there to record his words.

“‘You may be powerful — very powerful — but you are not God! God cannot be mocked! You have already lost!’ Then in that moment of unbearable tension, the bishop seemed to soften. Coming out from behind the pulpit, he flashed that radiant Tutu smile and began to bounce up and down with glee. ‘Therefore, since you have already lost, we are inviting you to join the winning side.’ The crowd roared. The police melted away and the people began to dance.”

Those of us who love Jesus and who work for God’s justice will carry on that dance in many ways, but let’s be clear: at this moment, there is no dancing in Ukraine. But that same holy defiance and transfiguring power is seen both in the people of Ukraine who gather and pray in parks and streets, and also in the Russian citizens who have bucked their government (and, I am sad to say, their church) in lining the streets in protest, prayer, and candlelight vigils.

It is moments like these, we see God’s transforming, transfiguring, transcendent love at work infusing our lives, and healing our relationships. In these moments, we see the character of God’s people as they make room for God’s restorative justice to flourish.  

The transfiguration shows us Jesus’ true nature. Through it we see God’s true intention, when we cooperate with God’s reconciling work, we—God’s people the church—shine with Christ’s radiance! And we show our true nature as baptized people when we go into the world living practical, useful, transforming acts of justice and love.

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Here is a link to the bulletin for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany.

Here is a link to a video of the liturgy at St. John's Episcopal Church, Clearwater

Here is a link to a video of the sermon.