Proper 21B
In the name of God, our constant companion. Amen.
There’s a lot of pressure on the one who shows up first – the one who bears all the responsibility until someone else comes along to lighten the load a bit.
One of the great privileges that I’ve had in my years of leadership in the Episcopal Church is that I’ve been able to meet, and even befriend, to some degree, a couple of the great “firsts” of our tradition.
Bishop Barbara Harris, the first woman to be consecrated a bishop in our tradition, was a force of nature. She’s often spoken of with fondness and admiration as we recount some of the ways she would cut to the heart of the matter at hand. And when that matter at hand was a matter of justice for someone oppressed, she cut deep. When she preached at the Eucharist at the 2009 General Convention that was organized in celebration of the work of the LGBTQ+ community, she went right to the heart of the matter. She said that this church talks a big talk about the Baptismal Covenant. But for too long, its baptized members who were a part of the queer community were told to stand off to the side or get out altogether. Bishop Harris succinctly reminded the church that there was no such thing as – as she put it, “half-assed baptized”. The same water that washed the saints of old washes us still today. And the power of the Holy Spirit to bring us into the Body of Christ through that water, which worked so well on them, still works just as well on us. It’s too important to think any less of the power of baptism than that.
But being a “first” like she was put a lot of pressure on her. I believe she was the right person to hold it, because she held it admirably for so long. But I can’t help but wonder if some of the most searing aspects of her sharp tongue might not have been shaped by the pressure of holding the responsibility she held alone for so long. It’s a big part of what made her so loved and celebrated, but I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a hardness born of pain.
Then there was Bishop Gene Robinson, the first openly gay person to be a bishop in this church. His charism isn’t as biting as Bishop Harris’ – but could best be described as a deep and genuine faithfulness, and a heart for loving and caring for others. There’s a gentleness about him, but still, when you get to know him even a little, it’s hard to see that and not see the pressurized core that lives beneath it. He held such a heavy burden for so long, and it left its mark.
And with each new woman, and with each new gay or lesbian person joining their ranks, the burden shifted a bit. The more they shared it, the more bearable it became. These are the two stories that I know best, but I’m sure it’s the same for just about every other kind of first, in every system: in the church and out, large or small.
That’s the story we hear about Moses this morning. He had been bearing the weight of the people’s needs alone for so long. He had cared for them and helped them through the hard times, and still, the pressures of leadership weighed on him. So he cried out to God for help. ‘I’m doing my best, but there’s still so much more that they need. I just can’t do it alone.’
Hearing his cry, God had Moses identify and assemble some of the other already established leaders of the community. And the reading from Numbers tells us that God took some of the same spirit that had been empowering Moses, and distributed it among them – sharing the empowerment, and lightening the load for Moses.
As today’s story of Moses ends, it sounds strikingly familiar to what we hear of the story of Jesus – another leader of the people, also holding an unimaginable weight and responsibility.
Jesus’ disciples had heard that there was someone apart from them who was casting out demons in Jesus’ name. I guess maybe they were worried that they needed to protect Jesus’ brand – so they came and told him so he would stop it.
But Jesus’ response wasn’t what they expected. He said, let the man be. Doing good is good, even if it isn’t on brand. He said that if his name was being used for good, it should go on being used.
The disciples expected a turf war, but what they got from Jesus was a celebration with open arms. And with that, they learned a bit more of what this “brand” was actually all about. It was about sharing the work, spreading the wealth, and helping to free us from our smaller understandings of God – God who isn’t limited by the limits we feel; God whose love flows wider than we can imagine; God who knows we all need a little help, and who is eager to offer it.
As we bore the pressure of pandemic, it sharpened us in some important ways – the same ways that pressure has sometimes sharpened the strong for centuries. For me, it refined my understanding of the importance of worship – both the way we do it and that we do it at all. As a church, one of the strengths that I’ve seen come out of pandemic is a broader understanding that we can’t actually do everything alone. Maybe it was the time in isolation and lockdown – maybe that’s what helped us to value each other a little more. But I see it throughout the church.
We’ve been talking about collaboration around here, but honoring the urge and recognizing the necessity of sharing the weight we feel with those around us is all over the church right now. There are congregations collaborating in small and large ways. We’ve even already done it ourselves – through our support of the Afghan Refugee Project that was supported by congregations throughout our region.
The thing is, just like we heard from the sidelines in the stories of Moses and Jesus, our own story of collaboration can also lead to some turf wars if we’re not careful. We’ll likely find that our colleagues in collaboration do things differently that we do them, and it would be tempting to hunker down and take sides. But remember the words of Moses: “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them!” Our greatest gift – the greatest answer to our prayers as leaders of the church is not to hold ministry close, but to spread it around.
It’s not up to us to guard ministry, or to shelter it from intruders – the example of Jesus that we’re called to follow is about sharing ministry, not hoarding it. It may be that we’ve always done something a certain way, or that we’ve always counted on one or two people to get everything done. But the blessings of Christ – and the work of building up the community of Christ is among those blessings – the blessings we’ve been given are meant to be shared. That’s how they grow.
I’ve probably shared it before, but my favorite quote from Mother Theresa is, “I have uncovered the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no more hurt. Only more love.” Love and blessings both work that way. The more closely we guard them, the more they slip away. The more they’re shared, the more abundant they become.
So share the love. Share the joy. Share the burden and share the blessing. That is our heritage. And in sharing we will be the Body of Christ we’re being called to be. Amen.
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