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The
Rev. Wm McCord Thigpen
St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church - Atlanta
June 27, 2004
Proper 8, Year B
Luke 9:51-62
I
arrived in Los Angeles in June of 1988 as the associate for St.
James', Wilshire Boulevard (the Hancock Park parish). The rector told me that I was not to tell anyone that I was
gay and I was not to have any friends in the parish. A week after arriving in LA I went to my first gay pride
parade as an observer. I had never seen anything like it before. Over 300,000 people lining the parade route, marching
bands, floats, dancers, flags, banners, big costumes, little
costumes, incredible energy and fun. But I was also fearful, behind sunglasses, afraid someone
would recognize me (put 2 and 2 together) but I was also energized
by the sheer number of people. I could not believe it; I was not alone. Two years later as the rector of Trinity, Los Angeles, I
walked in my first parade. I did not organize our participation that year but I wore my
collar and walked because I could and because someone asked me to. There were eleven of us – mostly from Integrity. The next year, the Bishop asked me to serve as his liaison
to the gay and lesbian community and I began to organize our
participation as a diocesan event. The next year there were 80 of us from around the diocese and
that has steadily grown. This
past year Los Angeles had over 400 Episcopalians, gay, straight,
young, old, babies in strollers, black, white, Anglo, Hispanic,
single and partnered, walking in the parade along with the Bishop
and his wife. A great
opportunity to live out our baptismal vows.
Ten
years ago, I was visiting Atlanta and was invited out on a Sunday
night to a club for its “Gospel Night.” They said you have got to see this; it is such a hoot. I had no idea what to expect. But there in a bar was a group, all made up, singing old
gospel songs, hymns. And
as they sang so did the patrons. All these gay men and women, a lot of young people, singing
out these songs they knew from the depths of their being, hymns
they had grown up with. Some
were nervously laughing as they sang. Others were singing as loud as they could. Others were crying. Some
were waving white cocktail napkins in the air. What touched me was watching them and listening to them
sing from memory the songs of their faith and knowing full well
how most of their churches treat them – if it is known. In most of their churches they either have to hide, or
leave, or face ongoing condemnation, abuse and rejection. For me it was a holy moment and I caught a glimpse of how
important it is for gays and lesbians (and for that matter all of
us) to have a place, a spiritual home, where we are safe, where we
are loved and welcomed for who we are.
The
Episcopal Church is in a unique position as a mainline church to
truly welcome gay and lesbian people, to tell them that God
welcomes them. We
cannot expect them to simply know that they are welcome. Many lesbians and gay men have been forced to flee their
churches because of the religious abuse and prejudice they have
been exposed to. Many
have had to leave their churches simply to get healthy. There are a lot of church-damaged people out there. But I also believe that we do have a message of healing and
reconciliation and wholeness that is indeed good news for our
lives. Walking the parade route year after year, I watched the
connection that parade goers made with the presence of the church
at the pride parade and festival - the willingness of the church
to be present with them, love them and welcome them.
This
afternoon, several Episcopal parishes are joining together to walk
in the Pride parade here in Atlanta. Our presence is a statement about our Church and our
theology, not only to ourselves (to keep reminding us of who we
are and who we are called to be) but to the wider community about
our belief in and our offer of a God who welcomes us and loves us
and forgives us and reconciles us to ourselves, to each other and
to God’s own self.
The
struggle over sexuality within the Church and for that matter for
most of the world’s religions is far from over. So, we need prophetic voices who are willing to risk the
fate of the prophets to continue to proclaim the good news of God
in Christ for all people.
In
our gospel this morning, Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem and
invites others to follow. This
is not an easy gospel and I think it is helpful to put it into
context. Luke, the
gospel writer, is taking us on a journey with Jesus.
Earlier in this
chapter, Jesus tells his disciples that if any want to come after
him they should take up their cross daily and follow him. And he gives them the paradox of the faith: those who want to
save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my
sake will save it. He
then goes up on the mountain for the transfiguration; he comes
down and casts out a demon. The
disciples begin to argue about who is the greatest.
And Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem.
He has laid out
for them what it means to follow him, taking up their cross daily. They are given a glimpse of who Jesus is in the clouds with
Moses and Elijah. “This
is my Son, my chosen, listen to him.” They understand and they don’t understand. They hear about taking up their cross. They see Jesus transfigured before them. They
see him heal the man. And
they ague about who is the greatest.
We are given this
ebb and flow through the gospel of who Jesus is and what he is
about being revealed and the lack of understanding on the part of
the disciples, which brings us back to today’s gospel.
Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem, which speaks of his
resolve and clarity about who he is, what he is about and where he
is heading, his final journey that takes him on to Jerusalem and
to the cross.
With his resolve
to head toward Jerusalem, the Samaritans want nothing more to do
with Jesus. And with
that rejection, James and John (the sons of thunder) want to call
down fire from heaven to destroy them – (we may feel that way
sometimes) but it is another misunderstanding of who Jesus is and
what he is about. Jesus
rebukes them.
Now they
encounter others who want to follow and Jesus says, “follow
me.” But he also
makes it clear what the price will be. And they begin to make excuses about why they can’t do
it.
It’s not an
easy gospel to understand. The
excuses seem so legitimate. We
know them. We’ve
made them, why we can’t follow right now.
My job. My career. My
family. Expectations.
Obligations. Societal pressure – to be a certain way, to think a certain
way, to do things a certain way, reasons we give to why we can’t
follow right now. Many
legitimate. Maybe
later. Maybe later. And
then there are times when we do follow.
Fortunately for
us, it is Jesus who sets his face to go to Jerusalem, resolute in
who he is and what he is about. And he does it for all those who follow and for those who
don’t, and for those who try to follow, for those who stumble
along the journey, and for those who don’t even know that they
are on a journey. He
does it for all.
And fortunately,
as Paul tells us in Galatians, for freedom Christ has set us free,
free from slavery, slavery to the law, slavery to our past, our
failures, our sins, our stumbling. We are no longer determined by where we have failed or by
our weaknesses or even by our excuses. We are forgiven. And
each day is a new day, a new beginning, a new opportunity to live
into the freedom to which we are called, (“You shall love your
neighbor as yourself”) to be people of compassion, honesty and
justice. We have been
set free to follow as individuals and as a community.
As individuals
and as a community we need to pay attention to our spiritual
lives, to nurture and care for one another in the faith, to
nurture and care for young and old, single and partnered, straight
and gay, black and white, the whole mix of us. And as we are willing to be led by the Spirit, we will bear
the fruit of the Spirit that Paul speaks of in his letter to the
Galatians: joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity,
faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These will be the hallmarks of us as individuals and as a
community as we follow where God’s Spirit leads us.
St.
Bartholomew’s has had a long history of following the Spirit to
the very edge of things. We
have often been there on the edge, pushing boundaries, pushing the
boundaries around civil rights, pushing the boundaries around
HIV/AIDS, homelessness, mental health, gays and lesbians, the
blessing of unions and direct aid to people in need. The edge has always been around the radical inclusion of
God’s love for all people and the circle of God’s embrace
growing ever larger.
Right now within
the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion and the Church
Universal and the wider world, the issues around sexuality and
sexual orientation continue. While it may feel comfortable and settled here, you do not
have to go far from this place to encounter the prejudice, hatred
and exclusion that remains. It
is powerful and it is well funded. And so today those of us who are able will walk in the
Pride Parade (it’s the nature of this place) and by our presence
and with our prayers we will speak of the radical inclusion of
God’s love.
Amen.
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