May 10, 2015
Acts 10.44-48; 1 John 5.1-6; John 15.6-17
+ Many of you
have probably heard the events that have been going on in the Episcopal Diocese
of Central Florida this past week. There, at the Cathedral of St. Luke in
Orlando, a gay couple were seeking to have their son baptized. A date had even
been set. Then, all of a sudden, the
dean of the cathedral informed the couple that they would have to postpone the
baptism because some of members of the cathedral had an issue with the fact
that the parents were gay. There was, of course, an uproar. The Bishop, Greg
Brewer, got involved. And now, it seems, the baptism is back on.
Personally, I was at a loss
throughout all of this. I have never heard of a baptism being canceled or postponed
because the congregation didn’t support the parents.
It is particularly and almost
strangely fortuitous that we have our scripture reading for today from the book
of Acts, which just happens In our
reading form Acts we find Peter asking hat very important question:
“Can anyone withhold the water for
baptizing….”
As you all know, I am very outspoken
when it comes to issues of baptism. So this situation in Central Florida really
hit me hard on a few levels. I am appalled
by any situation in which someone is actually being denied baptism (which is
the real issue here). Especially—especially—in
the Episcopal Church.
I’ve never heard of it. Ever. Even
from the most conservatively orthodox people. It absolutely boggles my mind.
Now, I of course, have had my own
friendly debates on the issue of Baptism with people who are both very liberal and
conservative (and I apologize for throwing those terms around. I’m not certain anyone
is 100% either conservative or liberal, especially in the Episcopal Church)
There are some of my more liberal friends
who think it’s crazy that we here at St. Stephen’s baptize on any Sunday other
than the Sundays designated as appropriate in the Book of Common Prayer—those being
namely the Easter Vigil, Pentecost
Sunday, All Saints, and the Baptism of Our Lord.
Others are really perplexed by the
fact that we do what others may call “private” baptisms—namely, baptisms that
are done outside of the regularly scheduled Sunday Eucharist. Of course my
argument has always been that there is no such thing as a “private” baptism. As
long as two or three are gathered together in the name of Christ, the Church is
present. And with Christ present, there is nothing “private” being done.
I, of course, quote our reading from
Acts from last week in which Philip baptized the Ethiopian eunuch right there
in the river. I seriously doubt that was done on a Sunday designated as
appropriate by the Book of Common Prayer, nor was it done in the context of a regularly
scheduled Sunday Eucharist.
Sigh.
Now, I am not playing the rebel
here. I am not trying to be a maverick. Any
of you who have heard my sermons on a more than regular basis know that I hold
baptism as so incredibly important. The only thing I preach about more than baptism
is…
…love. Which you’re also getting
this morning as well.
But, no, I am not being a rebel or a
maverick about this. I am simply striving not to withhold the waters of baptism
from anyone. When I appear before the throne one day, I will take my chances
that I erred on the side of baptizing anyone under any circumstances rather
than upholding some orthodox standard. And
the rules that the Church—capital C—applies to people does, often, withhold
those waters, whether that is the intent or not.
And I, as a simple priest trying to
love God and love others, am simply not in the place to withhold anything as a
powerful and as incredible as baptism from anyone. Nor should I. Not should any
of us.
Because—and I never preach about God’s
disappointment, never, but if God is going to disappointed with us, if Jesus is
going to wag a finger at us, it is for issues like this. If when the Church—capital
C—acts more like a bureaucratic museum upholding its some kind of
pseudo-orthodoxy rather than radically proclaiming God’s acceptance and love,
then the Church has failed—and failed miserably.
The Church’s job is to proclaim that
love. Unabashedly. Loudly. Without limits. Even if it means breaking its own
human-made rules. Because that is God’s
love. It is without limits. It is never withheld. Which of course leads me into
the other thing I love to preach about.
Today, we get a double dose of love
in our scriptures. Jesus, in our Gospel
reading, is telling us yet again to love. He tells us:
“Abide in my love.”
A beautiful phrase!
And St.
John, in his epistle, reminds us of that commandment to love God and to love
each other.
Now, as you hear me preach about
again and again, this love is what being a Christian is all about. It is not about commandments and following the
letter of the law. It not about being “right”
or “perfectly moral” or self-righteous or even orthodox. It is not about being nice and sweet all the
time. It is about following Jesus—and
following Jesus means loving fully and completely.
Loving God. Loving each other. Fully and completely.
Yes, I know.
It sounds fluffy. But the love Jesus is speaking of is not a
sappy, fluffy love. Love, for Jesus—and
for us who follow Jesus—is a radical thing. It is a messy thing. It is, often, an uncomfortable
thing. To love radically means to love
everyone—even those people who are difficult to love. To love those people we don’t want to love—to
love the people who have hurt us or abused us or wronged us in any way—is the
most difficult thing we can do. If we
can do it at all. And sometimes we
can’t.
But we can’t get around the fact
that this is the commandment from Jesus. We must love.
“Abide in my
love” does not mean living with anger and hatred and bitterness. Abide in my
love leaves no room for homophobia or sexism or racism or any other kind of
discrimination. You can’t abide in love
and still live with hatred and anger. You can’t abide in love and still be a
homophone or sexist or racist. It just can’t be done.
When Jesus says “Abide in my love”
it really is a challenge to us as the Church. I know that people are scared by
this. What this baptism in Orlando shows
us is that the Church is really changing. And, for some people, for a lot of people, that
is frightening.
But the Church of the future,
whether we like it or not, has to shed these old ways of acting out in anger
and fear and hatred. The Church of the
future needs to constantly strive to abide in the love Jesus proclaims. If it does not, it will become an antique
store filled with the antiques of a close-minded past. It will become an outmoded, hate-filled
cesspool.
And if does, then that’s the way
will be. I won’t be a priest in a Church like that. I doubt many of here this
morning would be members of a Church like that.
But, I know it will not come to that.
I know as well as I am standing here this morning with you, that that love will
win out. God’s love always wins out. Besides, if the Church becomes a place in
which baptisms are denied and others are continued to be denied, then I know it
is not the place in which God’s radical, all-accepting love dwells. If that’s what the Church becomes, it will, in
fact, stop being the Church. If the Church becomes a place of hatred or anger,
I doubt many of us would remain members of that church.
This is why the Church must change. This is why the Church must be a place of love
and compassion and radical acceptance.
This coming Thursday, we celebrate
the Ascension of Jesus. On that day, he
was physically taken up from us. But
what he has left us with is this reality of us—his followers—being the physical
Body of Jesus in this world. We can only
be that physical Body of Jesus when we also become his physical heart as well. We
can only do that when we abide in his love. When we love fully and radically. There’s no getting around that. There’s no rationalizing that away. We can argue about it. We can quote scriptures and biblical law and canon
law and ecclesiastical precedence and the Book of Common Prayer all we want. But
abiding in love is abiding in love. And
abiding in that love means loving—fully and completely and without judgment.
To be Jesus’ presence in this world
means loving fully and completely and radically. Call
that heresy or a simplistic understanding of what Jesus is saying or part of the
so-called “liberal agenda.” I call it
abiding it in Jesus’ love, which knows no bounds, which knows no limits.
So, today,
and this week, abide in this love. Let
us celebrate God by living out Jesus’ command to love. As we remember and rejoice in the Ascension,
let our hearts, full of love, ascend with Jesus. Let them soar upward in joy at the fact that
Jesus is still with us. And we when we
love—when we love each other and God—the Spirit of God’s love will remain with
us and be embodied in us.
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