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| AGW Welcome | The Witness Magazine |
The Lamb Replaces the Shepherd: Christianity As RevolutionaryLectionary reflections for the Fourth Sunday of Easter (C)by Louie Crew
Readings for Easter 4, Year C, May 2, 2004Acts 9:36-43
We must turn to the children; the exhausted; the ravaged and burdened and oppressed - they know the secret. Unless we know that we need life, we'll be baffled; but we hate admitting our lack, our poverty. It's the really hungry who can smell fresh bread a mile away. [italics mine] For those who know their need, God is immediate - not an idea, not a theory, but life, food, air for the stifled spirit and the beaten, despised, exploited body. (See the full sermon) In John's vision, God is a god of abundance -- not for everybody, but for those "who have come out of the great ordeal. . . [T]he one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat." As in Mary's vision, God fills "the hungry with good things . . . but [sends] the rich away empty." Nor is everyone in the know about this Revolution. "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly," the drama queens importune Jesus. Perform for us. Do a liturgy and let us watch. John himself has to be tweaked into awareness: "Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?" he asks one of the elders in his vision, only to be told, "Sir, you are the one that knows." This mirrors how God tells Job near the end of his ordeal, "Gird up your loins. [or as my grandmother would put it, `Pull up your breeches, stand up straight, and listen to me']. . . Then I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you" (Job 40:7, 14). If you belonged to me, Jesus scolds the drama queens, you would already know the answer. "My sheep hear my voice. I know them." This Revolution, to borrow Gil Scott-Heron's phrase, "will not be televised." Garrison Keillor tells the story of a Lutheran pastor who thinks of himself as caring and nurturing, but the pastor keeps forgetting the names of those who seek his counsel and muddles the details of what they tell him. The pastor's good opinion of himself is at the center of his ministry, not his flock. Stuck somewhere in my pile of old papers is a binder labeled Episcopal Snide -- an assortment of abusive mail I received from bishops in the early years after I founded Integrity, the gay and lesbian ministry of the Episcopal Church. In several of these letters, the bishops misspelled my name. They were not my shepherds. They did not know me. Looking like a deer in headlights, [Archbishop Akinola] summoned an aide across the room and abruptly ended the conversation. Ernest had watched the latter scene from the doorway. "What did you say to him that put him into a panic?" he asked. "Nothing. He does not know you and me and he wants to keep it that way. Otherwise, he might have to feed my sheep."
God Always Feeds Us in the Presence of Enemies
In July 2002, I was a lector at the Enthronment of Peter Akinola (Archbishop of the Anglican Province of Nigeria)at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York. Mark Sisk (Bishop of New York) invited Ernest and me, among many others, to his home to meet the archbishop at a reception afterward. The archbishop dashed to the other side of the room when I introduced him to Ernest at the punch bowl. Later in the reception Cathy Roskam (Bishop Suffragan of New York) called me over to engage the archbishop in conversation with me. Looking like a deer in headlights, he summoned an aide across the room and abruptly ended the conversation. Ernest had watched the latter scene from the doorway. "What did you say to him that put him into a panic?" he asked. "Nothing. He does not know you and me and he wants to keep it that way. Otherwise, he might have to feed my sheep." Psalm 23 would earn a 'D' or 'F' in English courses if the graders played by the usual rules. The psalmist begins matter-of-factly in the first and third persons talking about God: "The Lord is my shepherd. . .He makes me lie down. . . he leads. . ." Then without warning, the psalmist shifts grammatical point of view, to talk to God. The casual reader has been seduced, unwares, inside a prayer, "for you are with me. Your rod and your staff -- they comfort me."
Goin' Round, Takin' Names
When I taught English in Beijing and Hong Kong (1983-87), I realized immediately that I must address my difficulty in learning students' names. Fortunately, machines abounded to make cheap I.D. photographs, and I had each student paste a photograph on an index card with name and contact information. Learning their names was not much easier, however, until I began using these as prayer cards. If I am going to pray meaningfully for a person, I have to know specific things about the person. To the cards I added short notes of what I observed about each student -- in compositions, in class behavior, in interactions with others, etc. In short, learning their names became easier when I came to know them. Only then I might hope to be their teacher; then they might hear my voice.
In The Rise of Christianity, Rodney Stark points out that the early Church began to grow exponentially only when it began to address the complex social as well as spiritual needs of members. In so doing it became a cogent counterstatement to the uncaring secular world. People flocked to it in great numbers. The 40 years from 1875-1915 saw the most dramatic growth not only in Episcopal parishes, but also Episcopal hospitals, schools, and universities. "I came into the church, as did most other bishops and clergy in this room, as part of the great evangelical revival thirty years ago," Livingstone Mpalanyi Nkoyoyo, then-Archbishop of the Anglican Province of Uganda, told some us of visiting for the Standing Commission on Anglican and International Peace with Justice Concerns when we were in Kampala in February 2001. "I confess it took a while for me to realize that it is just as important to address the needs of people's bodies as to address the needs of their souls," he said. During Archbishop Nkoyoyo's watch the Province's department of Planning, Development and Rehabilitation (PDR) became, and remains, a model for responding to the needs of the poor. It maintains strong lines of accountability to relief and development agencies which funnel gifts from richer parts of the Anglican Communion. How much would The Episcopal Church grow as God's community if we were to offer to all members,
In September 2001 I was in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, for the dedication of the huge community center which Episcopal Relief and Development (ERD) created in the wake of the hurricane that had devastated the country. ERD built handsome homes, a school, a medical clinic. . . and only when those needs were met, ERD built the church that overlooks it all. "How many of the 2,000 living in this new community and worshiping as Episcopalians today were Episcopalians before the hurricane?" I asked a local priest as we waited in line for the reception. "Roughly about none of them," he replied. Go figure: The Episcopal Church assured that we "will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat."
Let the Lamb replace the shepherd in every community of the United States as well. Louie Crew is a writer and a well-known collector and disseminator of statistics and little-known facts about the Anglican Communion, which may be found on his Anglican pages. He is a contributing editor to The Witness and publishes a regular column on "A Globe of Witnesses." Louie may be reached by email at lcrew@andromeda.rutgers.edu. |
