Loading...I want to tell you a story.
Fifteen years ago, on December 7th, I was ordained a priest at the Cathedral of All Souls in Asheville, North Carolina. Like any new priest, I was eager and energetic, ready to lead the Anglican charge for Jesus in Western North Carolina.
My first assignment was as Vicar of Church of the Advocate, a dynamic ministry to the homeless in downtown Asheville. This ministry was supported by several parishes in the Diocese and All Souls Cathedral gave me an office and I was considered a member of the Cathedral staff, though with few demands made on me by All Souls. Still, the Dean, Todd Donatelli did serve as my supervisor.
On the 23rd of December, fifteen years ago, an urgent call was taken at All Souls. The priest at St. David’s in Cullowhee, North Carolina, had a family emergency and needed to travel to the West immediately. He was calling with the hope that a priest from the Cathedral could take the Christmas Eve service at St. David’s. Again, he was calling All Souls on the 23rd.
Dean Donatelli met me in the hallway at All Souls and told me of the pastoral plea of our colleague in Cullowhee. A priest from the Cathedral needed to go to St. David’s the next day and preach and preside at Christmas Eve. Which priest would that be?
Recalling that sixteen days earlier, I had promised to “obey [the] bishop and other ministers who may have authority over [me] and [my] work”, it did not take me long to realize which priest was going to Cullowhee.
I had never been to Cullowhee. I had never preached or presided at a Christmas Eve Eucharist. But the people of St. David’s needed a priest and I would have to do. There’s a first time for everything.
The drive to Cullowhee from Asheville is long enough to panic but not long enough to come up with a creative solution to panicking. So, I prayed and asked God for help to get me through what I feared would be a priestly disaster.
But then I remembered how God had helped Episcopal clergy for decades. THE ALTAR GUILD. I would ask the Altar Guild members at St. David’s to help me, to show me how things are done there. They would get me through.
I arrived at St. David’s and was quickly met by the Senior Warden. She was glad to see me. I then asked her how to find the Altar Guild team on duty. She took me down a hallway near the church and pointed to a group of older women. Behold, my salvation stood before me in Christmas sweaters.
However, before I could admit to them my need, before I could share with them my questions and show my ignorance, the Chair of the St. David’s Altar Guild said to me, “We will get out of your way. We know you have your own way of doing this.” Then, like announcing angels from on high, they disappeared into the night.
“We will get out of your way. We know you have your own way of doing this.”
Yesterday, I was ordained the 5th bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of East Tennessee. So, for almost 24 hours, I have served in this capacity.
At this moment, it might be tempting for some well-meaning East Tennessee Episcopalian to say to me, “We will get out of your way. We know you have your own way of doing this.”
But here’s the thing. I need you. I need to join you. I need to join you in the Way. Not my way or your way, but The Way, the Way of Jesus lived out in these holy mountains.
I have come to be your bishop but I have not come with my way, my agenda. I have come to be your bishop and join you in the Way of Jesus. And the Way of Jesus is always found in a community. Just like I needed the Altar Guild at St. David’s 15 years ago, so, today, I need you to make space for Susan and me to join you in being a Christ-centered cathedral of prayer and action.
We begin our life together hearing the words of Jesus from St. Mark’s Gospel.
While Jesus is addressing an ancient community, he is also speaking to us.
He speaks to them, and to us, of an end that is approaching. For the people first hearing St. Mark’s Gospel, the end was the destruction of the Temple. How could there be life after the Temple is destroyed? Yet, Jesus speaks to them of life after the end of the Temple. Even if the Temple is destroyed, Jesus will remain near to them. So, he speaks of an end that will yield a new day and a new beginning.
We are living in a new Advent. Many things are ending in our world. We know it is Advent, not simply because of the Church calendar, but because of the world we inhabit now.
For too many people in our city and in our region, the sun has grown dark and the moon does not give its light. If we look out across our globe, we see that we are in another era of nuclear brinkmanship. If we cast our vision closer to home, we see that a storm of opioid abuse and addiction is raging, with no sign of letting up.
And despite what the evangelistic roadside signs tell us, God seems to have lost interest in us.
In such an age, we possess the tools of social media and are more connected than ever, easily in touch with each other, turning our globe into one vast neighborhood. Yet, so many of us use those tools of connection to let each other know that we feel as if we are alone, cut off from each other and the God of our ancestors.
Jesus tells us this end is the not the end. This moment is the time when Jesus is drawing near again, already at the city gate.
St. John’s has stood in the center of this city since 1826. Since 1826, Knoxville has seen many endings and many beginnings. And St. John’s has stood in the center. Since 1826, there have been booms and busts. There have been wars, some fought in our very land and some fought far off. Since 1826, the downtown has grown and then declined and now has grown again. And St. John’s has stood in the center.
Jesus tells us that he is very near, at the city gate. And we are in the midst of the city, in its very center. So despite that sense that we are on our own, Jesus is so near to us.
Jesus is near to us and he reminds us of the call to stay awake, to resist sleeping while the new advent is approaching. The sun has grown dark and the moon does not shine, but that is not the end. That is simply a reminder to keep awake. Anxiety might be the latest fashion craze and the Holy One may seem to be on vacation, but that is simply a reminder to keep awake.
I don’t know about you, but if I try to keep awake on my own, I always fail. Because I prefer to sleep, I like the comfort of my bed, the time to close my eyes and disengage from the world.
But Jesus is not suggesting we pull an all-nighter on our own. He is inviting a community, gathered around bread and wine, gathered around the teachings of Jesus, gathered around the witness that the Resurrection lives in our midst, to keep awake together. It is only together, encouraging each other, lifting up each other, bearing the burdens of each other, that true wakefulness is possible.
When we baptize and when we confirm, when we ask questions of candidates and sponsors, all of those questions are also asking, “Are you awake?”
Yesterday, when questions were asked of me before becoming your bishop, all of those questions were also asking, “Are you awake?”
Since 1826, a people gathered around the name St. John has been awake in the center of the city. Now is not the time to fall asleep. God has not brought you this far to abandon you now. The Christ is near, even now at the city gate. The Christ is near, closer even than the city gate, for he is in our midst, if we simply keep awake and watch.
As your bishop, I pledge to you to keep awake.
As the Cathedral of this Diocese, I ask that you support me in the teaching and caring ministry entrusted to a bishop, for this place to be the center of that work.
I cannot do this alone. Left alone, I will fall asleep. Together, we will keep awake and we will greet the Christ again as he finds us in the center of the city, greeting all who come through the gates, seeking shelter, seeking hope, seeking a community that is awake.
So, let us follow the Way of Jesus together. Together, let us renew the apostolic work of proclaiming Resurrection, practicing it with joy and grace, with humility and mercy, with love and hope.
