Proper 14, Year B
Deut 8.1-10 & John 6.37-51
A sermon delivered at St. James' Episcopal Church, Austin, on August 10, 2003, by the Rev. Dr. William Seth Adams, Professor of Liturgics and Anglican Studies

Blessed be the Name of God

Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Take another one and ease it out. Perhaps that's what the Episcopal Church ought to do, now that General Convention has ended!

Now that we've settled ourselves -- listen -- this is the will of the one who sent Jesus, that Jesus "should lose nothing of all that [God, the Holy One] has given" him, "but raise it up on the last day." That's the punch line.

Mindful as I am that we gather this morning just after the Episcopal Church's General Convention in Minneapolis has ended, and mindful as I am that the Episcopal Church, this past week, has spent more time in the public press -- even on the front page -- than probably ever, and mindful as I am that there is for some of us a peculiar mix of gratitude and puzzlement about the state of things for Episcopalians, let me try nonetheless to direct our attention -- in the first instance -- away from our own notoriety and instead towards the intentions of God, the Holy One, and our dear Lord, Jesus.

The scriptures this morning are filled with remarkable beauty. As I came to them, I thanked God for what they offered, and I took a deep breath. The reading from the Hebrew Scripture gives us words of promise, words that Moses spoke to the people he had led through the wilderness for 40 years. Moses spoke these words to a weary and cranky people, people who had lost faith in Moses' leadership and his sense of direction, and whined about returning to the servitude; some of them seemed to yearn for the slavery of Egypt. "Were there no graves in Egypt," they asked sarcastically, "that you, Moses, had to bring us out into this desert to die?" To these nearly graceless and sometimes hard-hearted people, Moses praises God and announces God's promise, rich and supple:

"For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with flowering streams, with springs and underground waters welling up in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing,.... You shall eat your fill and bless the LORD you God for the good land that he has given you."

At these words, the people would have wept. The land of promise was across the Jordan, and the people who heard the message made the passage, across the Jordan. But Moses, the messenger of God, did not. He was not of the generation of passage. He died on the near side, not to see the land of promise he announced. The extravagant generosity of God, the Holy One, would be the inheritance of others. Moses took his rest.

The people who surrounded Jesus were people who knew the promise that Moses declared. The people who followed Jesus were the children of Israel, the descendents of Abraham and Sarah, the people who had crossed the Jordan long before. The God who nourished Jesus was the same God who had instructed Moses, the righteous, promise making God. The God who kept promises with the people Moses led, that same God spoke and speaks of promise in Jesus. Moses told his people that in the time of promise, they would "eat bread without scarcity." Jesus, child of God and inheritor of the promise made to Moses, this Jesus, amidst grumblers and critics, extends this same promise, the promise of God's eternal faithfulness -- extend the promise to us. "Anyone," he says, "Anyone who comes to me I will not send away." Nothing will be lost, but rather it will all be raised up in the fullness of time. Eat this bread. Take into your body, my body -- take it as bread that you may eat without scarcity. Wherever you are in your journey of faith, you are welcome to eat this bread.

The world we live in with God is a world full of promise, promise in the present as well as the future. This is the world of promise, not some other.

This past week, Episcopalians from across the nation, gathered in council, approved by resolution, the election by the diocese of New Hampshire of a gay man to be their bishop. Gene Robinson lives in a committed relationship with a partner of some 14 years. He has served the diocese of New Hampshire for nearly three decades. Also, the delegates at General Convention, by resolution, admitted the fact that the blessing of same-sex unions is currently part of the common life of the Episcopal Church, though they did not authorize the development of such rites for the national church. Two measures of great importance and considerable interest both received endorsement by a noticeable majority of those voting.

In the community of St. James', we are accustomed to talking about diversity and inclusion -- we don't take these matters for granted, that's for sure, but our language "an inclusive, multicultural community" really does inform our self-understanding and our actions. Two weeks ago, when our friend Iris Jones said goodbye to us at the end of the 10:15 service, holding back tears she said, "This is what the church ought to look like." And dear Ora Houston is often heard to say, "We who have been rejected will reject no one." This point of view and this kind of talk, that's what we are about. Welcoming, accepting, gathering in for the service of the world.

You and I, we have all been welcomed, accepted and gathered in-and in this place we are equipped for service. You and I, we have all been welcomed, accepted and gathered in -- by Jesus and by this congregation, all of us, to a person. If you are visiting today, be welcome, accepted and gathered in. That's the vocation of this congregation and our nature. Some of us who have been welcomed, accepted and gathered in are gay and lesbian, some of us are straight-some are Latinos, some African-American, some Asian, some Anglos, some "none of the above," some "all of the above," some single, some partnered, some very active in the life of this church, some not so much so, some with children [and grandchildren] and some without. Some of us are enormously pleased with what the General Convention has done; some of us are not. Some may well be frightened. None of us should be complacent or smug or satisfied. What God promises far outruns our satisfactions.

Much has been made lately of the place and authority of Scripture in the life and teachings of the church. Truth be told, it's a mixed bag. As I've told you before, more than once, I'm inclined not to give much weight to the texts that condone slavery or that encourage the suppression of women. I regularly disregard the admonition to avoid shellfish and I do not keep the Sabbath. The society I live in regularly disregards Jesus' clear teaching in the sixth chapter of Luke that we must not lend money at interest. I find Paul's testimony in Romans fundamentally important-deep into the eighth chapter he says that absolutely nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. I am also lifted up by Jesus' invitation to eat at the table with whoever shows up. I take seriously Jesus' burden to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. The testimony in Genesis about the goodness of creation is compelling and the God described in some of the Psalms is the God I know well. The generosity of God in creation and resurrection is unimaginable and astounding and certainly true. I believe that God will reconcile all things to God's own self and that all manner of thing will be well. I take Jesus' call to repentance to be necessary and I am convicted by it. Like I said, it's a mixed bag.

Truthfulness about the role and authority of scripture would likely yield observations like this from most every faithful Christian-and Jew, too where that applies. I'm suspicious of those who claim otherwise. One of the great theologians of our ancient past suggested that we should not argue from scripture at all, since even the heretics can do that!!

Last Sunday, in the midst of his fine sermon, our rector reminded us of the actions General Convention was being asked to take in the coming week and he reported the concerns that some people had raised and even the threats that had been voiced in some quarters -- if General Convention were to do this or that. He spoke about the anxiety that some felt and feared. Then he paused. "For my part," he then said, "I'm going to the beach." And so he did -- and he took Marti and Austin with him.

I think his willingness to rest should encourage us to do the same. But even more, I think the world of promise that surrounds us should build confidence in us -- not confidence in ourselves for we are surely frail and easily confused; but rather confidence in God's faithfulness. In the economy of God, nothing will be lost. We are to continue in our vocation, continue to welcome, to accept and to gather in, to allow ourselves to be equipped for service to the world, knowing that God will lose nothing, no one -- and that in due time, all will be raised up.

Take a deep breath. Let it out.

Blessed be the Name of God

William Seth Adams