Sermons by Bishop Paul V. Marshall
Keep a Place for the Ecstatic to Break In
Bishop Paul V. Marshall
Sermon at the Chrism Mass
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, March 21, 2002[Bishop Paul preached this sermon on Thursday, March 21, 2002, at the Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, during the Chrism Mass wherein the clergy of the Diocese of Bethlehem renewed their ordination vows. Each clergy person was asked, in the words of the rite: "Do you here, in the presence of Christ and his Church, renew your commitment to your ministry under the pastoral direction of your bishop, reaffirm your promise to give yourself to prayer and study, reaffirm your promise so to minister the Word of God and the Sacraments of the New Covenant that the reconciling love of Christ may be known and received, reaffirm your promise to be a faithful servant of all those committed to your care, patterning your life in accordance with the teachings of Christ so that you may be a wholesome example to his people?"
During the Chrism Mass also, the Oil of the Sick used throughout the year in healing serves and to strengthen those who are sick is blessed, the Oil of the Catechumens with which those preparing for baptism are anointed is blessed, and the Holy Chrism with which Christians are anointed at baptism to empower them for God's service is consecrated.]
What do your presence, style, and demeanor tell people about God? Please tuck that question away in the back of your minds for a while. I'll come back to it.
Before anything else, though, I need to say that, like many of you, I was deeply saddened by word of the death of Father Michael Shrubsole yesterday. He was one of the most deeply loving and radiantly humble people I have known. Even after retiring -- if that is the word -- to Florida, he remained in contact. II shall miss his letters and notes of support. He was a good friend and a great gift as a colleague in ministry.
On a happier note, Walter Krieger and Ned Caum have joined the ranks of canons in our diocese. I hope you will congratulate them at the luncheon (but not at the Peace!).
We have some new faces both in the choir and in the nave, a fact in which I rejoice. We have quite a number renewing ordination vows taken only a few months ago, praise God. For those of you attending this liturgy for the first time, let me say what I always say. This is a time to be unembarrassed about how God orders the church. It is also a time when I have the pleasure of telling you directly how much I value our partnership in the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is a time to say how much I love you and do myself feel loved by many of you. This time together is also an island we deliberately cut out in the hectic time before Holy Week to breathe a bit, to remember what the Church of Christ is here to be and to do, to us as well as through us!
In that very regard, we just heard the story of the Ark, King David, and Michal. The story is a tragedy, a tragedy of mutual overreaction, with the result of barrenness and murder. Michal had been David's first love, and incidentally was the daughter of the king, which did not hurt. She had saved David's life on occasion, and may have had a lot to do with organizing his ascendancy to the throne of a united nation.
Most marriages have one accumulator and one thrower-outer, one shopper and one hater-of-shopping, one spender and one saver, and so on. Michal was the more tightly wrapped, it seems, the one who gave structure to the multitude of energies of the warrior, politician, and poet she married.
In this fateful story she miscalculates her mate. For the Ark of God's Covenant to come to the city that was uniquely his was for David the fulfillment of a life's work, fulfillment of both his vocation and ambition. And that doesn't come around often.
Now Israel, like its God, was one, and it had a national center for its political and religious life, which also was one. In the manner of ancient prophets, David bursts out in song - yes, probably singing in tongues - and, as his singing and dancing get control of him, he tears off the encumbrance of clothing and dances his heart out. The rubrics do not anticipate this.
Michal is mortified that her husband, the anointed King of Israel, is on display so seriously out of control. In her overreactions she says some harsh words - and the one thing we know about harsh words, written or spoken, is that you can't take them back. Ever.
David is just as bad. Instead of remembering all the good Michal's cautious attitude and planning have given him, he lashes back, and leaves her without the possibility of children, the worst thing for a woman in that culture. He also leaves himself without a guardian, which is a dangerous place for an absolute ruler to be. The Bathsheba tragedy is waiting to happen.
Now as we all learned at one time, this story surely has something to do with the draining of King Saul's gene pool, but I think the Holy Spirit has more to tell us. So with apologies to those who read the bible in Antioch, I leave the story and go to Alexandria to allegorize.
In the first place, what we might call the Ark is not the lost Ark of the movies: the redemptive presence is not lost, but is with us each Sunday as Christ is proclaimed, and as Christ is really present with us at the altar. We who serve at the altar have the privilege of leading the praises of those who welcome him at the altar and bear Christ in their lives.
It occurs to me that those who do not believe in the real presence of Christ in the eucharist do have a secondary gain - they don't have to contend with a Christ who is really at hand. I mean this. How would people behave if Jesus just showed up in their church on Sunday?
Well, he does, of course; in the sacrament he instituted he comes among us. Take that seriously for a moment. Think about it.
In Christ's real presence as lover, who would dare back-bite and whine?
In Christ's real presence as the crucified, who would dare think they are victims, that they are owed apologies?
In Christ's presence as the resurrected, who would dare think that life is hopeless?
In Christ's presence as the one who came to serve and not to be served, who would dare be haughty or precious?
In Christ's real presence as the Word made flesh, who would dare to let their words be equivocal or dissembling?
Nobody would. Unless of course we are bored with the Manna that feeds us so regularly; unless we have routinized the eucharistic miracle to the point where we miss its virtue and effect. Unless we are so focused on ourselves and our pet concerns that we cannot see the treasure we lift up before God's people eucharist by eucharist.
Dear colleagues, you and I always stand in a great danger. Whether we count ourselves low-church, broad, high, or stratospheric, each of us has the danger of becoming merely a "technician of the sacred," just doing our job so well and that's all, and some of us can be quite good at that. That sin takes many forms; like all sin, it kills by taking our hearts where they don't belong, away from their first and true love. It takes us from true food to scraps that cannot nourish. It makes us hungry for empty calories. For me the first lesson of the story is: know that the Ark of God is present, and never let that thought be displaced, and then see what happens to those other concerns.
The second lesson has to do with reactivity. I find that the longer I take to respond to some issue or event, the less I have to apologize for later. If Michal had let ecstatics be ecstatic, and if David had let the tightly wrapped be tightly wrapped, several tragedies would have been avoided -- and David would not have found himself having to write Psalm 51.
The third lesson from this story has to do with cultivating balance in our ministry. Bruce Steiner wrote of Anglicans in Pennsylvania after the Revolution as following "traditional, non-theological Episcopalianism." Traditional, non-theological Episcopalianism of a kind that couldn't understand what all the fuss was about in New England with their Scottish liturgy and their unusual bishop. It all seemed so unnecessary.
When we are out of balance, we have the temptation to abandon theology. We have the temptation on the one hand to talk about goodness more than God - about what is just more than what is holy. We have on the other extreme the temptation toward the overly-sentimental, toward letting the entirely feeling-oriented feel good about you. Either cop-out leaves people unchanged because they are unchallenged.
But the biggest question about balance is where do you and I keep a place, figuratively and literally, for the ecstatic to break in? Believe me, I know the fear that if I leave myself entirely open to God I might want to do something embarrassing; I might want to give up some control.
Even if the Michal in me gets religion and recognizes the duty to be joyful (just think about that), my inner Michal finds that I cannot schedule the experience of ecstasy - there are limits to your Palm Pilot-- any more than David could have built the Ark for himself.
David had to have a place for it, a place ready for it to arrive, but it remained what he could not control. I say this to reemphasize our necessary commitment to the Daily Office. To be people who at least once a day say "My soul magnifies the Lord" and twice a day say "I believe in God" opens doors, creates paths, keeps expectations alive.
Along with the holy obligation to the Daily Office that we take upon us in our ordination vows, comes the importance of disciplined contemplation. That's a part of our job where we don't get to look busy. I have come to realize how much having lots of serious time to contemplate has felt like a luxury during sabbatical time, and I am going to have to do something about that when sabbatical is over.
Paths to deep contemplation are not the same for everybody. For me, music is sublimely the way to a deeper reality; for some of you it is printed text; for others it is the icon. Still others find the door opens when they stay in a place of perfect stillness. We need to keep a place ready for the Ark.
I say all this because the parish as an entity will never reach a state of holiness higher than that of its clergy. The parish as a whole will never reach a state of stewardship higher than that of its clergy. The parish as a corporate soul will never find more joy in the Lord than does its clergy.
Now back to that question: What do your presence, style and demeanor tell people about God?
The ordination vow about being a wholesome example is more of an opportunity than we may always recognize, and perhaps we can renew our vows today, whether for the first time or the fiftieth, with something like expectation.
I am grateful that God has given us to each other.
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