5 Easter

 

April 28, 2024

 

Acts 8.26-40; 1 John 4.7-21; John 15.1-8

 

+ As I near the 20^th anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood on June 11—we’ll be celebrating here at St. Stephen’s on June 9—I have found myself somewhat introspective, but kind of retrospective, fi you know what I mean.

 I’ve been looking inward

 And I’ve been looking back.

 Looking back over my 20 years as a priest.

 I will go into more depth about all of this on June 9^th in my sermon, but I have been thinking long and hard about some of the stances I have made that have put me, shall we say, outside the norm for priests, especially in this diocese.

 One situation in particular rose to the forefront this past week as I pondered our scripture reading today from the Book of Acts.

 Way back, in the beginning days of my priestly ministry, I was asked by some wonderful parishioners at the congregation I served to do a baptism for these parishioner’s twin granddaughters.

 I was close to this family—I loved them dearly—and I was honored to do so.

 The family requested however that the baptism be done in the chapel of the church.

 In that chapel was a columbarium, in which the ashes of people were interred.

 And the great-grandfather of these twins was interred there.

 They wanted it there so that we could include the great-grandfather’s memory in baptism.

 I thought it was a beautiful sentiment, and so I said sure, why not?

 We planned the service between Sunday morning Masses, so that we could include anyone who wanted to come to be present, but so there wasn’t a disruption of the liturgy with a procession to the chapel rather to the regular baptismal font in the church.

 Well, as sweet and nice and beautiful as this all sounded, it did not sit well with the clergy in charge.

 I don’t know if they were offended by what they viewed as a unilateral decision by this upstart assisting priest who served in their parish.

 And, to be fair to them, I will give them that.

 I SHOULD have received their OK to do these things before I gave an OK to the family.

 But I did not think it would be an issue.

 Well, it most certainly WAS an issue.

 And after being reprimanded by them, I was then summarily summoned to the Bishop’s office, who also reprimanded me for this situation, at the behest of these clergy.

 Before you start thinking less of me, if you  believe that I just humbly and sweetly took these reprimands quietly, let me assure you, I did not!

 I sat through the clergy reprimand biting the inside of my lips until they bled.

 I tried to defend myself, but it was two against one.

 And you all know how I LOVE to be ganged up on….

 But when I was summoned to the Bishop’s office, reprimanded and then told to make a formal apology to the clergy, I protested.

 And I protested loudly.

 Now, if I had violated the relationship with the clergy, I considered it resolved after they reprimanded me and I then apologized them to them in that meeting.

 But to have the Bishop reprimand me after the clergy and then demand that I make a public formal apology was a bit much.

 And his reason for reprimanding me had nothing to do with my overreaching my role as an assisting clergyperson.

 It had to do with the rubrics.

 The rubrics are those italicized instructions we find in the Book of Common Prayer---the stage directions, so to speak.

 So, let’s turn in our Prayer Books to those rubrics for Holy Baptism

 On page 298.

 The argument was that the rubrics say on page 298, second paragraph, that “Holy Baptism is appropriately administered within the Eucharist at the chief service on a Sunday or other feast.”

 I, of course, as well as every single clergy person in the Episcopal Church, am bound by my ordination vows to conform to the “doctrine, discipline and worship of the Episcopal Church,” which means those rubrics.

 And I do so, “with God’s help.”

 But if you want to see my hackles rise, just bring me into contact with so-called “rubric Nazis.”

 I argued my case, saying that rubrics are not emphatic on that whole principal service, and that the Prayer Book actually does give us an opportunity to baptize at other times other than the primary liturgy of Sunday morning.

 We went round and round about this until I finally realized I was going to lose.

 After all, what did some newly ordained poet-priest know about such things language?

 But I did get one last shot in before I conceded.

 I picked up a Bible and placed it before the Bishop and I said, “please tell me where, in the Book of Acts, is says that Philip baptized the Ethiopian Eunuch during the “chief service on a Sunday.”

 I didn’t get an answer, other than “don’t be difficult, Jamie.”

 And sadly, that did not win my case.

 I lost.

 And yes, those babies were baptized.

By another assisting priest at that parish.

 Between services.

 On a Sunday.

 In the chapel.

 Just as it was originally requested and planned.

 *Sigh.*

 But. . . .I have thought a lot about that reading from Acts over my years as a priest.

 This has been a very important scripture to me for some time, and not just because of that baptism way back then.

 The introduction of the Ethiopian Eunuch is vital for us—especially those of us who are a sexual minority in the Church.

 The Ethiopian Eunuch is a marginalized person—a person who is not allowed to be included in the Jewish fellowship because of the castration that was done to them.

 But for Philip to accept this person--who by Jewish Law could not be considered fertile, who would by some be seen as a barren branch, someone who could not live out the commandment to be fruitful and multiply--and baptize them and include them in the fellowship of Christ is a story of radical acceptance and inclusion.

 Of course, the Ethiopian eunuch is important to Transgender people, who relate to the Eunuch.

 But the Eunuch is important to people like me who are asexual, who also definitely relate to the Ethiopian Eunuch.  

 In the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, the eunuch is actually named and seen as a saint.

 They are given the name St. Bachos and in the Easter Orthodox Church St. Simeon (sometimes referred to together as St. Simeon Bachos).

 In this story we see how radically inclusive and revolutionary the act of Baptism can be.

 And should be.

 As baptized followers of Jesus, as Christians and Episcopalians who are striving to live out the Baptismal Covenant in our lives, we know that to be relevant, to be vital, we must be truly fruitful.

 In today’s Gospel, we find Jesus giving us a glimpse of what this means

 “I am the vine, you are the branches,” Jesus tells us.

 The effective branch bears fruit.

 Our job as Christians is do just that.

 It is to bear fruit.

 Now, this takes on a very different meaning when we consider St. Simeon Bachos, the Ethiopian Eunuch, or trans people or asexual people.

 Being fruitful in this sense means being spiritual fruitful, being fruitful in bringing about the Kingdom of God abundantly.

 Bearing fruit means, growing and changing and flourishing and being open minded.

 We do it here at St. Stephen’s by doing something that might not seem trendy.

 We do it with our ancient form of worship.

 We do it with the Eucharist.

 We do it with taking what we do here, breaking bread and sharing bread with each other, on Sundays, and then going out doing just that in the world.

 And in doing that, we make a difference in the world.

 That is what it means to is to be effective as Christians.

 Being a Christian means living out our faith—fully and completely, in every aspect of our lives.

 And living out our faith as followers of Jesus means that we must be pliable to some extent.

 And we must be fertile.

 We must go with change as it comes along.

 We must remain relevant.

 Now that doesn’t mean we throw the baby out with the bathwater.

 In fact it means embracing and holding tightly to what we have do well.

 We respect and honor and celebrate our tradition, our history, our past.

 But we aren’t bound to it by some kind of noose.

 We are not called to serve rubrics.

 Rubrics are meant to serve us, to make our worship meaningful and beautiful, to keep things in line so that our liturgies don’t become circuses.

 Being a Christian, following Jesus means that we will following him by being fruitful and growing and flourishing, by making a difference in the world.

 We are doing positive and effective things in the world.

 We are transforming the world, bit by bit, increment by increment, baby step by baby step.

As we are told in our Epistle reading today, "God is love."

 We are being the conduits through which God who is love works in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

 This is what it means to follow Jesus.

 That is what it means to be reflectors of God’s Love on those around us.

 This is what means to be a positive Christian example in the world.

 And when we do this, we realize that we are really doing is evangelizing.

 We are sharing our faith, not only with what we say, but in what we do.

 That is what it means to be a Christian—to be a true follower of Jesus in this constantly changing world.

 That is what it means to bear good fruit.

 So, let us do just that.

 Let us bear fruit.

 Let us flourish and grow and be vital fruit to those who need this fruit.

 Let us be nourished by that Vine—by the One we follow—so that we can nourish others.

 Amen.