St. John's Episcopal Church

Homily for Sunday, August 31, 2008 (Year A, Proper 17)

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)

To sit in a typical Episcopal church on Sunday morning and hear Jesus speak of taking up one’s cross can leave us with a kind of spiritual cognitive dissonance.  In today’s reading Jesus predicts his approaching suffering and death “at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes …” (Matt. 16:21)  Peter objects: the idea that his rabbi should suffer and die is unthinkable.  Jesus rounds on Peter, describing his friend as a “stumbling block.”  (Matt. 16:23)  Then our Lord tells his disciples that if they want to become his followers they, too, must pick up their cross and be prepared to suffer — to risk life and limb — as he, their rabbi, is.

Having heard this grim declaration, and perhaps having listened as the preacher sternly encouraged his flock to welcome such suffering, the congregation is then sent out into the world.  This initially means wandering off into the parish hall for coffee, cookies, and pleasant conversation with church friends.  Or in certain upper crusty Episcopal congregations, it means relaxing in a well-appointed lounge over tea sandwiches and sherry with the vicar.  Then we head home for Sunday dinner and football.

In other words, it can be genuinely difficult for us to reconcile our Lord’s call to suffering with the lifestyles we build for ourselves — lifestyles that are intentionally and often imaginatively designed to keep suffering at bay.  Of course, in this life there are no 100% guarantees.  However careful we are, we may still trip over the cat.  However attentive we may be at the wheel, the other driver may be tuning his radio or talking on her cell phone at the wrong moment.  Most of those who serve in the military hope they will never fire a shot in anger, or be shot at in anger, but sometimes things don’t work out as we wish.

Still, we do our best.  We work hard to provide ourselves and our families food, shelter, and clothing.  We save to provide our children an education and ourselves a retirement.  We remember to change the batteries in our smoke and carbon monoxide alarms every Memorial Day and Labor Day.  We make regular trips to the doctor and dentist to keep our bodies in good working order, and to the auto mechanic to keep our vehicles on the road. We buy property, health, disability, and long term care insurance to protect us from those unforeseen “acts of God” which, in fact, are not divine slip-ups but simply the random chances and changes that come with life.  And, if we have the opportunity, we do our best to get out of the way of those very chances and changes.  This morning thousands of residents of the Gulf Coast are doing just that as Hurricane Gustav makes its fearsome way toward shore.

How, then, do you and I, as American Christians in the 21st century, relate to our Lord’s call to share his suffering?  In what sense are we, as his disciples, called to pick up our cross and follow?

Perhaps a story from my own family may suggest an answer.  In the 1920s my paternal grandfather, Hartley, was a successful Chicago businessman.  He started out as personal assistant to the head of a major meat packing firm, and then went into banking.  By the late ‘20s he owned two small banks on Chicago’s south side and was able to provide his wife Grace and their five children with a comfortable life in the suburbs.  A faithful Baptist, he and Grace were conscientious and generous in support of their congregation.  Like so many Americans in that day, they enjoyed unparalleled prosperity, measured in part by the availability of new luxury consumer products such as electric refrigerators and especially automobiles.

As you know — and as a few of you may have personally experienced — everything began to change in late 1929.  The origins of the Great Depression are complex and, even today, hotly debated.  However, most economists agree that the seeds of this massive financial downturn were sown in World War I, which ended with many European nations deeply in debt to the United States and dependent upon U.S. credit to keep their economies functioning.  At the same time, stock manipulation was rampant on Wall Street, while many American workers, confident their jobs were secure and that the postwar economic boom would last, were buying their automobiles and refrigerators and radios and other consumer items on credit.  

Then the bubble burst.  The stock market crashed.  International credit collapsed.  U.S. companies laid off workers, while cutting the wages and hours of the employees who remained.  Commercial activity slowed, businesses failed, the unemployed defaulted on their loans and mortgages, banks failed, and the American economy imploded.  Through it all, President Herbert Hoover voiced his confidence that the normal operation of the markets would soon solve all these problems.  On principle, Hoover staunchly refused to offer help to individual citizens who, he felt, were largely responsible for their own misfortune.  It was not the proper role of government to bail people out of a jam.  If American citizens needed food, clothing or shelter, private relief agencies, churches, and other non-governmental groups could fill the need.

As the depression took hold, fearful depositors started runs on their banks.  The Federal Reserve, unable and/or unwilling to extend adequate credit, was unable to stem the rising tide of bank failures.  The bank crisis eventually engulfed my grandfather’s two little banks, and presented him with a decision: to simply close his doors and let his depositors stand the loss, or to pay off his depositors.  

I am not sure how this decision was made.  My father was a teenager at the time, and I doubt that young children were often consulted about such matters.  Very likely my grandparents spent many hours in prayer.  In the end, Grandpa concluded that it was his moral duty to make his depositors whole.  Doing so took all the assets of his banks, and all his personal assets as well, but he paid off his depositors almost to the penny. 

Had he been able to stick it out a few more months, perhaps the changes in the banking system under President Franklin D. Roosevelt might have saved his bacon, as it did for so many other, perhaps less ethically sensitive bankers.  But that was not to be.  With money borrowed from business friends, Grandpa packed up his family and headed off to Florida to buy a derelict hotel and start a new career in the winter resort business.

My grandfather’s story tells me that discipleship carries a price tag, and that we pay that price by the choices we make in the course of our normal lives.  Of course, we hope life will just go along quietly, uneventfully, and profitably year after year — and often that’s exactly what happens.  But some of us, at some point, may be faced with a moral choice we did not seek, yet cannot avoid.  Perhaps we discover that our friends at school are plagiarizing papers off the Internet and urge us to do likewise.  What will we do?  Perhaps our supervisor at work asks us to fudge some figures so that he and the department look better to those above.  What will we do?  Perhaps a little “creative tax accounting” would benefit us while not attracting the attention of the IRS.  What will we do?  Perhaps at the mall we see another shopper drop a $20 bill and walk off unawares.  What will we do?  Perhaps we see someone or some group in need and know that with just a little effort, we could make a difference in their lives.  What will we do?

These choices — these crosses, if you will — come in different sizes and weights.  The Apostle Paul recognized this in his Second Letter to the Corinthians when he talks about whether one may boast about one’s spiritual experiences.  Even acknowledging the unique and wonderful revelations granted him by his Lord, Paul refuses to boast.  Instead, “to keep me from being too elated,” he says, “a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me….”  (2 Cor. 12:7)  In Greek the word for thorn is very similar to the word for cross, but he intentionally uses thorn to avoid implying that his suffering — his cross — was in any sense of the same degree or character as the cross and suffering of his Lord.

Some among us truly are called to risk all for the sake of the cross.  American citizen soldiers are doing so now in Afghanistan and Iraq.  Police and firefighters do so routinely.  As Gustav threatens the southern U.S. we remember the Coast Guard search and rescue teams plucking people off their roofs in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.  Today these teams are ready to do this again if the need arises.  Many risk much in the service of others.  

Yet you and I, in the course of our work as disciples of Jesus Christ, will usually find that our cross is really just a thorn, or perhaps a splinter.  That thorn may be painful, but it is a burden we can deal with if we are prepared to do the right thing in this present situation, and in the next, and in the next.

I believe that is all God wants of us.  That is all our Lord Jesus Christ asks of us as his disciples — to the right thing.  As Paul instructs the faithful at Rome, “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good, love one another with mutual affection… Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.  Contribute to the needs of the saints… If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Rom. 12:9-13a; 18)  What is required of us as disciples is not perfection, but persistence in doing what is right.  If we live in this manner, I feel certain that when the Son of Man comes “with his angels in the glory of his Father,” (Matt. 16:27) and when you and I are asked to render an accounting for what we have done, our good and compassionate Lord will find us worthy to stand before him.  Amen.

The Rev. John E. Laycock, Interim Pastor

Lesson: Exodus 3:1-15  |  Gradual: Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c  |  Epistle: Romans 12:9-21  |  Gospel: Matthew 16:21-28

Collect for Proper 17:  Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good things: Grant in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever.  Amen.

T. Boone Pickens’ plan to reduce America’s dependence on imported oil by developing wind and solar farms makes sense as a first step toward a comprehensive energy policy.  But once the electricity is produced, you have to move it to the major population centers where it will be used.

In “Wind Energy Bumps Into Power Grid’s Limits,” (New York Times, August 27, 2008) Matthew L. Wald reports that the 200-turbine Maple Ridge Wind Farm at Lowville, NY, has been forced to shut down periodically because transmission lines were too congested.  This farm is located on the Tug Hill plateau east of Lake Ontario and is known for its strong lake-effect weather patterns.  With a maximum elevation of 2,000 feet above sea level, this area is considered ideal for wind farming.  But no matter how abundant the breeze, when the electrical grid cannot handle Maple Ridge’s power, the farm has to turn off its turbines.

“The grid today,” Wald writes, “is a system conceived 100 years ago to let utilities prop each other up, reducing blackouts and sharing power in small regions.  It resembles a network of streets, avenues and country roads.”  Yet what we need today, says Suedeen G. Kelly, a member of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, is “an interstate transmission superhighway system.”  As it stands the electrical grid’s lines and interconnections are too small; property owners do not want transmission lines and towers in their “back yards”; and power regulations and fees vary from state to state, complicating interstate transmission.  Reluctant to intrude on state government prerogatives, and wary of angering voters, Congress has avoided the problem for decades.

When Pickens says we need leadership in Washington to establish “transmission corridors,” he refers in part to improvements in the grid.  If you can’t move the power to market, no one will invest in wind and solar farming.  To get action on the grid we will have to lean on our state and federal legislators.  It’s unlikely they will make the necessary decisions without pressure and support from their constituents.

Here’s an idea.  Since most people think those big transmission towers are ugly, couldn’t we put them alongside existing interstate highways?  If an interstate’s designation ends in an even number, it’s probably going in roughly the right east-west direction.  An interstate is not a thing of beauty, except perhaps to an engineer.  There might be less “not in my back yard” kick if we keep the ugly stuff together as much as possible.

It seems Washington’s hand soon will be forced, in any case.  Demand for electricity is growing.  If supply and transmission capability fails to keep pace, then we could face blackouts like those that hit California in 2001 and the Midwest, Northeast, and Canada in 2003.  Congress doesn’t want a nation of (literally) unhappy campers!  Better our leaders should make these difficult decisions now, rather than later… by candlelight. 

For New York Times articles on the energy challenge, go to: http://www.nytimes.com/ref/science/earth/energy.html

— Fr. John +

One of the more interesting facets of the current political season is T. Boone Pickens and his plan to reduce America’s dependence on foreign oil.  The so-called Pickens Plan is a 2-step, 10-year effort.  First, Pickens would replace the 20+% of the electricity we now generate using natural gas with electricity generated by wind farms in the central U.S. and solar farms in the Southwest.  Second, Pickens would divert the freed-up natural gas to the transportation sector where it would initially power fleet vehicles — over the road semis, municipal garbage trucks, taxi cabs, etc. — and later private automobiles.

The Texas oil tycoon notes that we now spend $700 billion per year on imported oil.  Imports make up 70% of all the oil we use.  Before long we could be importing 80% of our oil.  Pickens claims his proposal would cut expenditures on imported oil by $300 billion, or over 40%.  That would buy us time to develop the electric, hydrogen, and/or other vehicles we will use in the future.  His plan is not a full solution, but a badly needed bridge, Pickens says.

As a lifelong Democrat, I find it odd to be cheering on a legendary Republican oil billionaire.  I do so because Pickens might actually be able to break our energy logjam.  I’m 63 years old.  We’ve worried about energy since I was in college.  We’ve described our dependence on foreign oil as a “crisis” since at least the mid-1970s.  Yet time and again, our attempts to resolve the energy problem have been derailed by political warfare in Washington.

Now Pickens has elbowed his way into the middle of this energy debate, and into the middle of this presidential campaign, with a sensible proposal.  With an estimated net worth of $3-7 billion, Pickens has sharp elbows!  He is spending $58 million on a national ad campaign — a modest investment on his part, given his resources — to tout his idea, and he’s using the Web to assemble an “army” of supporters.  Over a quarter million people have signed up.  In time Pickens will ask these people to lean on their legislators and demand action.  

The PickensPlan commends itself for the following reasons:

• It’s non-partisan.  What Pickens proposes has been embraced by both political parties and both presidential candidates.  However, he urges immediate action on this piece of the energy puzzle.  Neither McCain’s “Lexington Project” nor Obama’s “New Energy for America” puts wind, solar, and natural gas for fleets at the top of the punch list.  For the Obama and McCain energy positions, see:
• http://www.barackobama.com/pdf/factsheet_energy_speech_080308.pdf 
• http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/17671aa4-2fe8-4008-859f-0ef1468e96f4.htm
• It relies on existing technologies.  Wind turbines, solar cells, and natural gas vehicles are all sitting there, ready to be used. 
• Much of it can be done with private investment rather than tax money.  Pickens himself is building a huge wind farm at Sweetwater, TX.  If his plan goes through, it is likely he will make a packet.  Some see his advocacy as self-interest.  However, I like to see people with big ideas put their own money on the table.
• Wind and solar farms would provide jobs and income in rural areas, saving some small farms, small towns, and small businesses — and small churches! — from extinction.

But note: for every ointment there is a fly.  The major problem with Pickens’ proposal is getting all this new electricity to market.  Pickens says we must have leadership in Washington, D.C. to establish the “transmission corridors” needed to move large loads of new wind- and solar-generated power from the American Outback to the major population centers where it will be used.  To quote the Prince of Denmark, “There’s the rub.”  Or more precisely, “There’s the Grid.”

More about this in another posting.

— Fr. John +

With apologies to L. Frank Baum, there are many people in New Orleans for whom it is still unsafe or impossible to “go home”.  We all know what occurred in terms of Hurricane Katrina, but what many of us do not realize is that there is still much to do to help people who have been unable to recover.  

I have been to New Orleans on two mission trips, the first in November 2007 and the second this past June 2008.  These have been with my former parish, Grace Episcopal Church in Brooklyn, New York. This congregation is incredibly mission driven, and has sent teams down to New Orleans and Gulf Coast Mississippi on seven trips. The trips to New Orleans are in conjunction with the Episcopal Diocese of Louisiana, where Bishop Charles Jenkins has dedicated resources to responding to the needs of the people. The work of rebuilding has been accomplished primarily by volunteer groups, mostly church related. 

These trips have been amazing parts of my spiritual journey. Prior to the first trip, I assumed that all of the images we saw on television were what occurred, and that people in poverty were the only individuals affected by the terrible flooding from this storm. (It was the flooding that caused the most damage and destroyed the most homes, not the initial storm, and all of the damage was not located in the Lower Ninth Ward). 

Damage occurred in Gentille and many other areas, and those homeowners with affluence rebuilt quickly. Many middle class people and poorer people never received insurance payments or the much touted “Road Home Money”. One family we helped had run a successful catering business, but the storm wiped out all of their equipment, their kitchen, and freezers full of supplies. They were just never able to rebound. Their courage, resilience, and patience and ability to laugh and adjust were amazing. 

On the first trip, we helped gut 14 houses, and I spent the whole of one day listening and counseling the daughter of the homeowner of one of these houses.  She was devastated, not only in seeing the home and contents of four generations of her family with the corresponding memories of holidays and special events celebrated in that home destroyed, but also the experience of being totally abandoned by every level of her government in the midst of the tragedy—and this was two years after the hurricane.  What I learned from this woman about life pre- and post-Katrina has stayed with me and made a deep impression.  The thankfulness and sense of God’s blessing through the work of the volunteers that she expressed cannot be explained adequately. 

On this, the third anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, there are two opportunities available to us. First, there is another trip with the Brooklyn congregation during the period November 16-21, 2008. The cost to the participant is airfare and dinners; housing and transportation while in New Orleans are covered, as well as most breakfasts and some lunches. If interested in that trip, contact me at joan.hilles@gmail.com or 616-607-9834. 

Also, the Episcopal Diocese of Western Michigan has a trip to Camp Coast Care in Long Beach, Mississippi, September 19-28 (the Brooklyn group has been there twice as well).  They have 41 volunteers going, and might be able to accommodate a couple others. What they really need are donations to help fund their trip, and we can forward any contributions to the Diocesan Center in Kalamazoo.  The contact for questions at the Diocese is Tammy Mazure, email tmazure@edwm.org .  I look forward to participation from our parish for this important work!

Peace,

Joanie 

During the 1960s my family lived in the suburbs southeast of Cleveland.  Our house was a typical ranch to which a former owner had added a small sunporch built on a concrete slab.  With jalousie windows on three sides, the sunporch made a pleasant, breezy place to sit in good weather.  

But this porch did something quite remarkable in winter.  On clear, bright winter afternoons, the sun would shine through those jalousie windows and warm the porch’s cement floor.  Even with its leaky windows our sunporch would get toasty enough that we could sit out there for two or three hours, enjoying a snowy January landscape.  Then, as the sun dropped toward the horizon, the cement slab’s fund of stored heat would dissipate.

In retrospect, this was my introduction to what we now call “alternative sources of energy” — in this case passive solar heating, humankind’s oldest home heating system. 

A few years ago, as I began thinking about building a retirement home near Alpena, my architect recommended making the structure passive solar.  Bob Tinker of Kelly-Tinker Architects in Ann Arbor has long experience in designing new buildings and retrofitting existing structures for energy efficiency.  The memory of that toasty sunporch — an entirely unintentional “sun space” — convinced me that Bob’s recommendation made good sense.  We are now working on what I like to call version 3.0 of the design.  God and a bank willing, construction could start next spring.

The more I pondered my “high efficiency” retirement home plans, the more aware I became of how dreadfully inefficient most church physical plants are.  Many Episcopal congregations have inherited lovely but drafty structures from former generations.  Others have built new facilities on very tight budgets, with energy efficiency far down the list of priorities.  And raising capital funds to retrofit a worship center is no easy task.

Here at St. John’s in Grand Haven we recently replaced the windows on the upper level of our parish house.  We have a lot of windows!  It was a big investment!  But in a few years the parish will recoup its investment through savings on energy, and those who call St. John’s their church home 20 or 40 years from now will thank us.

That’s a point worth considering.  Churches make capital investments not just for the benefit of current members, but also for those who come after us.  If we enjoy an attractive, functional physical plant today, it is primarily because those who worshiped at St. John’s in the 1890s and 1920s and 1950s were willing to take risks and invest their hard-earned money in this church.  We stand on their shoulders, and others will stand on ours.

Here’s another point worth considering.  If it wishes to, a congregation can play a unique and influential leadership role in its community.  In my lifetime, churches have led the way in areas ranging from race relations to economic justice to war and peace.  More recently, church people from every corner of the country have led the way in rebuilding the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina.  I believe a congregation can also exercise leadership in the area of energy.  One form for the Prayers of the People asks God to give all of us “a reverence for the earth as your own creation, that we may use its resources rightly in the service of others and to your honor and glory.” (BCP p. 388)  If our prayers truly shape our faith and behavior, then we are called to give more than lip service to the problem of using and conserving the Lord’s natural resources.  In short, we should practice what we preach — and set a faithful, positive example for our members, communities, and government leaders.

— Fr. John + 

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Fr. John +

This is the first posting on the new St. John’s Blog (blog is a Cyberspeak contraction of “web log”).  Blogging has become an international passion in recent years.  Teenagers blog about their latest fashions and heartthrobs.  Corporations blog about their products and services, hoping to drive readers to their web sites and tills.  Political bloggers have made it difficult for a candidate to misspeak at some chicken dinner without his/her minor malapropism or major gaffe being immediately trumpeted across the blogosphere and into the maw of the 24/7 news beast.

But what does a church blog about?  I’ve asked myself that question this past week as I’ve tried to figure out how this new WordPress blog software works, and I’m not sure I’ve come up with a simple answer.

Perhaps that’s because there don’t seem to be many local church blogs out there.  Lots of churches have web sites — most of them pretty grim, unlike ours, which is really quite handsome, thanks to web guru Jim — but not too many congregations seem to have blogs.  Thus, while we don’t often think of St. John’s Episcopal Church in little Grand Haven, Michigan, as being on the cutting edge, perhaps in this case we are!

For the uninitiated (and those like me who are just getting initiated) blogging is intended to be an interactive enterprise.  Someone posts some information, and then others add their comments in reaction to that post.  Thus the St. John’s Blog is an opportunity for our parish community — which gets together mainly on Sunday morning — to engage in a continuing conversation about any number of subjects, from theology to politics, and from the priest’s last sermon to the best recipe for heart-healthy chili.  (If you like the chili better than my sermons, try to let me down easy.  Frail ego, you know.)

Note, too, that St. John’s Blog sits on the World Wide Web.  That means anyone with a computer or an iPhone can log on and post a comment.  Comments will be screened before being posted.  We intend that this blog be “G” rated.  

We also hope that what a visitor finds here might lead him or her to visit St. John’s on a Sunday.  We’re a cool group of Christians!  Cool… not chilly.  Big difference!

So, again, what is St. John’s Blog about?  Actually, it’s about almost anything you wish it to be about.  As the principal editor, I will use this category — An Orbicular View — for my own well-rounded comments.  I will also post sermons.  Your comments are most welcome.  If you have suggestions for other categories, please let me know.

Blessings,

Fr. John +

Homily for Sunday, August 24, 2008 (Year A, Proper 16)

[Jesus] asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is”  And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”  He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:13-15)

This account of the Confession of Peter from the Gospel of Matthew is widely understood as the basis for the Roman Catholic Church’s claim to preeminence in the Christian community.  According to this interpretation, Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jesus responds by announcing that Peter is the rock upon which our Lord will build his church.  “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven,” Jesus says, “and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” (Matt. 16:19)  This promise will be fulfilled on the Day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descends upon the Apostles and the Church becomes a reality.

That’s certainly one interpretation of this passage.  And as biblical interpretations go, this one has been pretty successful.  The idea that the chief Bishop of Rome occupies a unique position in Christendom goes back as early as the year 150.  It reflects the tradition that both Peter and Paul were active teachers and leaders in the early church at Rome, although there is no evidence that either served as bishop.  Many believe that both Apostles died as martyrs in the persecution under the Emperor Nero in the first century, just 20 or 30 years after the resurrection.  When religious toleration was decreed in 313, and again twelve years later when the Emperor Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Empire, the prominence of the Roman church and its principal leader were greatly enhanced.  

The division of the Roman empire into eastern and western sections created competition between the churches at Rome and Constantinople.  In time that left us with the Roman Catholic Church in the West and the Orthodox Churches in the East.  The term pope, meaning “father,” was initially used in both parts of the Empire, but gradually became identified with the Bishop of Rome.  From about the 12th century forward, popes have claimed to be inheritors of the keys of the kingdom which, they say, Jesus handed to Peter.

However, there’s a different way to read this morning’s passage from Matthew.  Sometimes, looking at a reading from a different point of view is helpful.  I hope that will be the case here.  

The question Jesus initially poses to his disciples — “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (Matt. 16:13) — suggests that Jesus is starting to attract serious attention among the people.  His teaching and healing work is creating a stir, and his friends report that people think he is one of the great prophets come back to life.  Today we might say that Jesus is enjoying a kind of “rock star status,” although that is certainly not what he sought.  Then Jesus gets more direct.  He asks his disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:15)  Perhaps he wants to know if his closest friends share the popular perception, or are they looking more closely at what Jesus is saying and doing.

Jesus directs his question at all of the disciples.  When Simon Peter responds, I think he does so not simply for himself, but on behalf of the other eleven as well.  “You are the Messiah,” Peter declares, “the Son of the living God.” (Matt. 16:16)  

Now, at this point, we should pause to note that many students of scripture believe that Jesus himself never claimed to be the Messiah or the Son of God, while others believe he did.  The subject is controversial and goes well beyond the limits of this sermon.  It revolves around the question, What did Jesus know, and when did he know it?  However, here and at other times Jesus “sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.” (Matt. 16:20)  It could be that this so-called “messianic secret” was Jesus’ attempt to keep his disciples from making claims on his behalf that Jesus himself did not share.  There’s no question that later on, after the resurrection, as the Church experienced Jesus as the risen Lord, Christians would declare openly that Jesus was the Messiah.  But did Jesus himself make this claim during his earthly ministry?  I think not.

In any case, when Jesus asks, “But who do you say I am?” Simon Peter makes his famous confession.  In response, Jesus declares that Simon Peter is blessed, because he has received a revelation from the Father in heaven.  “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church….” (Matt. 16:18)

There is a lot going on here, and it will help to unpack this a bit.  Regarding Peter’s name, it seems likely that this man we know as Peter was bilingual, speaking both Greek and Aramaic.  As a Greek-speaking Jew he probably he probably had frequent dealings with Gentiles in Galilee— so much so that he was initially known in Jesus’ band of brothers by his Greek name, Simon.  Only now, at the time of his confession, does Jesus bestow upon him the name of Peter which means “rock.”  One might assume, then, that when Jesus says he will found his Church on “this rock” he is referring to Peter, this being a word play involving Peter’s name.

One might assume that.  Or one might not!  Jesus says Peter has received a revelation from God, but nothing in the story suggests that the other disciples were denied that same revelation.  When Peter responds to Jesus’ question, I believe he verbalizes what he and the other disciples have been thinking.  Thus it is quite possible that “this rock” to which Jesus refers is the revelation, not Peter himself.  Moreover, if the revelation was given to all the disciples on whose behalf Peter speaks, then it is upon that entire group — not Peter alone — that Jesus will found his church.

That seems to fit with what we know about Church history.  For much of its early history the Church was a rather loosely organized enterprise with multiple centers of influence, held together by a common faith and bonds of affection, but not governed from one place by one person.  The highly centralized system of government that characterizes the Roman Catholic Church today evolved gradually in a process that was not complete until the 12th century.  In addition, this centralization of power and authority lasted only until the Reformation in the 16th century.  Thus, except for those 400 years between the 12th and 16th centuries, the Christian Church has been a decidedly decentralized enterprise.  Divisions in the Body of Christ have been called a scandal, because so often they have led to nasty arguments, suppression of divergent views, and even war.  But in fact, history suggests that decentralization may be the natural state of affairs among Christians.

Consider, for example, that for over 450 years we Anglicans have testified to the benefits of authority widely spread.  Beginning with the American Church’s separation from the Church of England in the late 18th century, the Anglican Communion has grown to be the third largest Christian group — after the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches — without some bishop at the “home office” telling people in distant places and different cultures what to do and how to do it.  The Archbishop of Canterbury is no pope.  We Anglicans have no watchdog office responsible for enforcing doctrinal discipline and slapping down those who put a toe out of line.  Each of the Communion’s constituent national or regional churches is autonomous.  The whole body of Anglicanism is held together by our relationship with the office of the Archbishop of Canterbury, by our Prayer Book, and by our roughly similar approaches to faith and order.

That doesn’t mean that life in the Anglican Communion is one big love-in.  If you have kept your ear to the newspapers over the past few years, you know that significant divisions, especially over human sexuality, have made the Communion’s corporate life very difficult.  At the recent Lambeth Conference those divisions were quite clear as several hundred bishops, mostly from global south, refused to attend.  The Conference did not take formal votes on legislation, because the planners assumed that doing so would only make the current strained situation worse.  Instead, the Lambeth bishops met, prayed, and studied together.  In the end they decided to continue work on an Anglican Covenant, which some hope will better define our shared approach to theology, and to consider setting up a new Faith and Order Commission which will attempt to iron out disputes among the member churches before they grow too serious. 

It was a typical Anglican outcome.  Those who hoped for an immediate and decisive result (in their favor, of course) were badly disappointed.  What they got instead was what we Anglicans do so well — something messy, inconclusive, with no clear winners and no clear losers.

However, there is a trend here that is worth noting.  Some Anglicans would like to see our international family of churches governed by a system more like that of Rome, with a clearly defined doctrine and some bishop, or group of bishops, empowered to enforce discipline.  Others believe that a shift toward centralized authority constitutes a real threat to the gentle but faithful tolerance that has historically characterized our Anglican way of doing business.

For my part, I am inclined to favor a more decentralized structure.  I find this consistent with our Anglican heritage.  I feel it respects the vast cultural differences which characterize our Communion, and acknowledges our often divergent ways of dealing with Holy Scripture.  And I think it resonates well with what I see happening in today’s reading from Matthew.  It is certainly true that in scripture we find many instances when a single person receives a revelation from God.  But in today’s case, with respect to the founding of the Church, divine revelation is given not to just one person — that is, to Peter — but to the whole company of the disciples.  Thus the Church is built not on the one, but on the many.  

Therefore, if the Church is truly to be the body of Christ, in that wonderful image St. Paul offered up in his letter to the Romans (Rom. 12:4-8), then our task is to reconcile our different understandings of that revelation, seeking unity in a context of diversity, and relying on the Holy Spirit to lead us into all truth.  That truth may not become clear as quickly or smoothly as we might wish.  After all, God doesn’t punch our time clock.  In the end, however, as we struggle to work through our differences, we will better understand how God wishes us to live, and how we may more faithfully serve our risen Lord.  Amen.

The Rev. John E. Laycock, Interim Pastor

[The following is a sermon delivered at St. John's Episcopal Church, Grand Haven, on Sunday, August 10, 2008, by Guest Preacher John Feeney.  John teaches Latin and French at University of Detroit Jesuit High School in Detroit, and is an instructor in the Classics Department at Wayne State University teaching courses in mythology and classical civilization.  Your comments are most welcome.]