Sermon from Jeremiah’s
Consecration 2/24/24 Acts 1:15-26, John 15:1, 6-16
Matthias has a unique call story. Most people know the
stories of the disciples being called by Jesus on the shore as they abandoned
their boats and began literally following him. But this story of nominees and
casting lots is a bit less romantic and a bit more practical. What I appreciate
about it is that Matthias knew what he was in for. The disciples who were
personally called by Jesus really had no idea what was going to happen. They
didn’t yet know about the suffering, loss, danger and sacrifice that would face
them. They didn’t know that the man they followed would die on a cross. They
didn’t know there would be an empty tomb. But when Matthias joins them, he
knows. His eyes are wide open. He was there as a witness to the suffering,
death, resurrection and ascension. He knows it’s complicated. He begins his
time as an apostle not as a curious fisherman but as someone who is fully aware
of the whole story- he even knows the tragic story of the guy he is replacing. What
we don’t know is if he actually wanted to do it- the text doesn’t tell us if he
was excitedly raising his hand in the air or hiding in a corner hoping they
forgot his name. But either way, he is in and he knows there is a lot of work
ahead.
And of course, we are gathered today to celebrate another
new leader in the Church, one who also has a lot of work ahead … a guy I know
sort of well … Jeremiah. The process of getting to this day was not a short
one. As far as job interviews go … it is quite long … and thorough … and
involved. During that process there are many people who offer their
perspectives, concerns, fears and hopes. The reality of declining numbers and
struggles is laid bare and there is a lot of time to contemplate the weight of
the role. So in a way, Jeremiah comes into this with eyes wide open, like St. Matthias,
he knows it is complicated, weighty, emotionally laden and difficult. But, like
St. Matthias, he also faces a future full of unknowns. Could Matthias have
predicted that flames would soon come down from the sky and people would start
speaking different languages, that Christianity would take off like a rushing
wind to all corners of the world and through generations to come? This Holy
Spirit stuff is anything but predictable.
And while we may think we know what a Bishop does, there is
a lot of room for unknowns. As we gather in this place surrounded by buried
bishops and stately portraits, we are reminded that each one had a unique
story, callings lived out in different ways. Jeremiah and I have experienced a
variety of bishops- everything from the grandfatherly warmth to us as
seminarians from Bishop Croneberger, the deep voice and precise liturgy of
Bishop Arthur Williams, the intelligent wit of Bishop Pursell, the vulnerable
sharing by Bishop O’Neill of his heartbreaks and celebrations, the wise advice
of Bishop Lucas and watching our kids slop around in mud chasing pigs and
gathering eggs with Bishop Hollingsworth. There are many ways to follow the
path.
But for all of the unknown journeys, all of the varied
callings, for St. Matthias, Bishop elect Jeremiah, all the bishops, all the
priests, all the laity, all of us … me and you … the set of instructions
remains the same … be a branch. The reading from the Gospel of John so
beautifully paints this picture. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches,
held together by love, abiding in Christ’s love and stretching out as a branch
from the vine to put that love into the world.
We learn to be branches through the love of others, those
who teach us the stories of the Bible, who model self-giving and demonstrate
the love of Christ. For Jeremiah it was through his grandparents who read him
Bible stories even as a baby growing up in the hills of rural Ohio, through his
parents demonstrating the transformational power of a life lived for Christ,
through the professors at Greenville College who encouraged him to dive deeper
in his faith and introduced him to the Book of Common Prayer, through the
professors at Drew and General and mentoring clergy like Elizabeth Kaeton and
Lauren Ackland who challenged him to stretch himself in faith, modeled thoughtful
and responsible ministry and inspired him to make sure that the branches are
always stretching further to include the lost and the least. Through the people
of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Youngstown, St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in
Toledo and Grace and St Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Colorado Springs who
opened their hearts to him, trusted him and boldly followed Christ with him.
And through our two children who stretched our hearts and our capacity for love
beyond what we ever imagined. All of these have made him into the branch that
he is today.
The past six months have given me the opportunity to get to
know the people of this diocese. When Jeremiah first said he had been nominated
for this ministry I knew little about the Diocese of Albany. Before we came for
the ABC tour, for the meet-and-greets, we did a lot of reading, looked up
church websites and researched, but nothing prepared me for what I found when I
got here … branches. From the moment we arrived we felt and witnessed the
presence of the Holy Spirit. We have seen branch after branch- people talking
about their faith, engaging in ministry, holding one another and us in prayer
and opening their hearts in love. Of course we have heard about the heart
aches, the fears, the worries and the pain, but overwhelmingly we have felt
love here; we have felt connected through the vine, by the love of Jesus Christ.
In all of the emotions and ups and downs and unknowns and
buying and selling of houses and new schools and teary farewells and nervous
hellos and questions and learning how to pronounce “sch” as “sk” and not “Sch”
… there is one moment that stands out to
me, that I will never forget. Last spring, I was standing in the kitchen of our
house in Colorado. Jeremiah was at the dining room table doing a virtual
interview with members of the diocesan search committee. I was doing my best to
keep the dog happy so he didn’t bark and occasionally listening to what was
being said. I felt sad at the possibility of leaving Grace and St Stephen’s and
all the people we loved there and unsure of what might lie ahead. Folks on the
interview team were sharing their genuine and honest concerns about the
diocese, what they saw as the challenges and how painful some of the struggles
have been. It made my stomach hurt. But then, someone on the team said “you
know … I feel really hopeful for this diocese, there is so much possibility, I
mean, if we do this right then we can be a model for The Episcopal Church – a
model of reconciliation and love across difference and we can have a future
that is Holy Spirit filled and thriving.” My perspective shifted and I felt
hope-filled, excited and like this could be something really great. Like all of
us together, from Pottsdam to Hudson, Morris to Essex … and even beyond, can be
part of a movement caught on fire by the Holy Spirit spreading the love of
Christ in ways yet unseen, a people caught up in the love of Christ and finding
bridges where barriers once lived, a vine that is growing and thriving and
winding and circling through branches upon branches.
St. Matthias may have known the road ahead would be hard,
but did he know that Pentecost was coming? Jesus is at work here in this place,
in this diocese, in these hearts and I can tell you that the man who has been
elected to serve here as Bishop is a person of deep faith, sincerity and
persistent hope.
Much
of the journey to this day has been about calling. Calling is a word we use a
lot in the church. I remember in my ordination process writing paper after
paper and answering question after question about my calling. When a person is
ordained we use that word “calling” and when we as Christians are finding our
place in the world from career to marriage and even nominating folks for vestry
we use that word “calling.” It is a word that has both inspired, excited,
motivated and moved me and also scared, haunted and bewildered me. It has given
me both direction and thrown my path into disarray. Perhaps you have felt this
too. It is a big question to ask what the creator of the universe is beckoning
one toward. And it is a big weight to feel that one must get it right. But the
Gospel of John reading today makes it all so clear. Jesus says “abide in my
love.” That is the calling Christ gives us. I know that for Jeremiah, a deep
sense of God’s calling has nurtured, sustained and fueled this whole journey
and will sustain his journey ahead. I have often marveled at his ability to
rest so confidently in the assurance that he is following God’s call. My prayer
for him is that he will continue to feel that deep sense of calling and by
doing so will continue to abide in the love of Christ. My prayer for the
diocese of Albany is that we all will dwell in the assurance of God’s calling
and in doing so will abide in the love of Christ. Today is the beginning of a
new chapter. We know it will involve fancy hats and a big ring, but we also
know it will involve challenges and hard days. But if we all keep our prayers
focused on this calling to abide in God’s love then we can know that we are
where God is calling us to be and . . . the Holy’s Spirit’s in-breaking may be
just around the corner.
