(Annual Meeting)

Father Gary’s Sermon

Inspired from Luke 4:14-21

Proclaimed on December 14, 2003

A priest and a pastor from local parishes were standing by the side of the road holding up a sign that read, “The End is near! Turn yourself around now before it's too late!” Their plan was to hold up the sign to each passing car. “Leave us alone you religious nuts!” yelled the first driver as he sped by. From around the curve they heard screeching tires and a big splash. “Do you think,” said one clergy to the other, “we should just put up a sign that says ‘Bridge Out’ instead?!”

Sometimes clergy, as in this little story, have the greatest of intentions. More often than not, we fail miserably to communicate our message in the most helpful of ways. For instance, I wonder how an audience today would respond to the words of the ancient cleric--John the Baptizer--when he shouted out to those listening, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Repent! Don’t rely on who your parents are, or how much wealth you may have, to save you!” These are strong words, words that I doubt any Episcopal priest could get away with using. By using this sort of language, was John the Baptizer like the two clergy holding up the misleading sign to warn passing drivers? The Gospel doesn't seem to indicate such. There are no indications of persons responding to him as that first driver did to the two clerics holding up their sign on the road. Rather the crowds seemed to be drawn to John. They just kept coming out into the wilderness, crowds which consisted of people from all walks of life.

Perhaps John was more kind than it appears on the surface. The chances are he was making use of the surrounding wilderness to make his point. The desert was covered with stubble and brushwood, which was as dry as dead timber. It was therefore not unusual for a spark of fire to turn the face of the desert into a burning furnace. John used such flames as descriptions for the wrath of God to come. As these flames would burn through the various nooks and crannies of the desert, from out of these crevices vipers and snakes would scurry in terror, seeking to escape the menacing flames.

John wasn’t calling people nasty names. He was just describing how these people were coming to him to escape the circumstances of their lives. They came to receive his baptism as though he were some sort of fireman dousing the flames that threatened to consume them. In essence, unlike those two clergy carrying signs that read, “The end is near!” John was using the most positive and effective means of bringing people to salvation. In his words that followed John did a masterful job of clarifying his message. He simply stated, “Stop! The bridge is out!” He cautioned the religious people about using his baptism as a sort of fire escape--as an easy way to avoid accountability. Rather than using their pedigrees as an insurance policy, he instead stated something like this: “Never mind your roots! What about your fruits?!”

Then there were the real sinners: the hated tax collectors, the despised soldiers, and those who had more wealth than they needed. These too came, asking what they needed to do in order to be saved from the coming judgment. After all, if the current religious authorities were going to hell, then what was in store for them? Did he say, “Sell everything and follow me?” No. Did he tell them to take off their present clothing and dress in animal skins like the ones that he wore? No. Did he prescribe a special diet of locusts and wild honey that he ate? No. Did he tell them to move into a cave, much like he probably had done? No. Indeed, his demands upon them were quit simple. In a nutshell, he did not propose any radical changes, except that they do their present jobs better. To the tax collector he did not say quit their job, but rather take only the money that was coming to them. To the soldiers he did not say quit the service, but rather do their jobs without abusing others.

And to those who owned more than they needed for survival, he asked that they share with those who had less. So what does this have to do with us on this the third Sunday of Advent, when our focus is not only on our judgment, but also on our Annual Meeting? It means that I pray I will have the wisdom to communicate with you clearly as I deliver to you not only a sermon, but my first report to you as your Rector.

First, let me begin with some dry numbers. In the past year we have conducted: 4 baptisms, 2 confirmations, 1 wedding, and 2 burials. Our overall attendance this year may reach 5,227, which is almost a thousand fewer than last year. However, our communions this past year, which may number approximately 4,778 is only down by about 250 from last year. It is not unusual for a parish to experience losses during those times without a full-time priest. However, our losses this past year are not evidence of a short duration. Rather they reflect a pattern of decline that has been going on for the past four years, after a jubilant year in which our parish experienced an all time record attendance of 10,648. Now granted, there were some differences noticed in how these records have been kept over the years, but the downward trend (which reflects a loss of close to 50%), is significant.

What is behind these losses? The truth is, I haven’t been here long enough to know. Part of it may have something to do with the past relationship between you and your last Rector, which I am told left many of you divided. Of course, the recent decisions of the General Convention this past summer have contributed, as well.

But this is no time to call you a “brood of vipers,” unless, of course, it means we are trying to escape from all the turmoil threatening to consume us. Indeed, considering everything that has happened, and may be continuing to happen, it is a miracle that our numbers are as strong as they are. However, if what we do with our money is any indicator of what is in ours hearts, then our commitment remains strong in that our financial losses have not been near as great as the losses indicated in our attendance records.

It is into the midst of this that you have invited Kathy and me to come and live among you. If things have been difficult for you, it sure has not been evident in the manner in which you have welcomed us. Both of us have experienced some of the most wonderful times of our lives as we have settled in among you. I have to admit, however, that something very profound happened to me a little more than a week ago when I was installed as your new Rector. I came into that service feeling so happy, which was reaffirmed throughout the rest of that evening, but I left experiencing something new. Somehow, during all of that celebration I came away with a new sense of burden. It is not, however, a negative thing, but rather it is a different side of love, a deeper love that our Lord is giving me for each of you. Perhaps this is the same sort of burden that John the Baptist carried for all of those who came to him in the wilderness.

One thing, however, is evident. My message to you cannot be greater than the one proclaimed by the Baptist. Sure this is Advent, a time to focus on judgment, but like the message of John the Baptizer, it is also a time to announce our need for healing, as well as to request from ourselves a greater sense of accountability. Simply put, it is a time to bind up our wounds and invite our Lord into our midst as a healer. Furthermore, it is not a time to propose radical changes, except that we do our present jobs better. As your new Rector, I share with you in these burdens: the need for healing, as well as the necessity of doing my job better. All of this is in line with our mission statement: “To know Christ ourselves and to make Him known in the world.” With these twin goals of healing and accountability, may we rediscover Christ, not only as our King or Messiah, but also as our healer and redeemer. May we pursue these objectives in such a way that we become less an institution and more a community of loving involvement, providing a genuine welcome to friends, newcomers, and strangers, who together will help us to more fully become the Body of Christ. As we recover our health as a loving community we will also recover the numbers we lost, and even exceed our greatest expectations. Then like the two clergy I mentioned earlier, we could carry a sign, only this sign will read, “Come on through. The bridge that was out has been repaired. Thanks be to God!”