I like the challenge of writing a lectionary based sermon. And I like the extra challenge of writing a lectionary based sermon that inspires a congregation to shell out even more of its hard-earned money to the church. But the bar is set ridiculously high this morning as I imagine you’d much rather hear me talk about sex.
Friends, I have 10 minutes to deliver a lectionary based, stewardship, gay-sex-scandal sermon.
Here we go...
I don’t know anyone who likes preaching the Parable of the “Dishonest Manager”. In fact, I bet I’m in the pulpit this morning because the Reverends Richard, Jack and Robert didn’t want to have anything to do with this bothersome gospel. Thanks guys. Isn’t it true that historically it’s the women who do the hard work?
The problem with today’s parable is that the manager is praised for actions that are clearly dishonest. First he squanders the rich man’s money. Then, upon learning he will be fired, the dishonest manager reduces the tenants’ debts. However, this gesture of kindness to the debtors isn’t intended to free them of their debt. Rather, the dishonest manager is angling to protect his own future by making the debtors beholden to him. Soon, the manager will be penniless and without a job, but the tenants have been tricked, and they will welcome this shyster into their homes.
In 1979, the black lesbian poet Audre Lorde wrote an essay called, The Master'sTools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House. Based on theories presented in her essay, Lorde might argue that the dishonest manager is doing more than simply reducing the tenants’ debt for his own gain. At the same time the manager is scheming to secure his own future, he is also exposing the injustice of the existing oppressive system of wealth; a system that kept the poor indebted to the rich landlords who commanded an unfair percentage of their crops. The economic systems in place today are equally unjust. The minimum wage isn’t a living wage. The rich make their millions off the backs of the dark-skinned workers in falling-down factories, and bent over laborers in blazing hot fields.
Lorde might also suggest, that working within systems that are inherently oppressive, will never produce real change. Playing by the rules that shelter the dominant values, values that protect the strong and endanger the vulnerable is ultimately ineffective. Lorde says:
For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house.
They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game,
but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.
In this illustration, Audre Lorde talking about dismantling the master’s house sounds a lot like Jesus Christ talking about the kingdom of heaven: they both strive to turn the ways of the world upside down. No thrones for the powerful, the lowly lifted up; the hungry are fed, and the stone hearts of the oppressors are broken open. I think it’s fair to say that earthly riches didn’t matter to Jesus. And, the amount of money we have today means nothing to God. But what we choose to do with our money, now that is a different story.
When I enter this holy place, this place that we call St. John’s, I am aware of God’s presence. It’s as if our very church were God’s dwelling place. This is true for me because when I come into this church, I know I can come just as I am. And when I am here being who I am, without the fear of being cast out because of who I am, I am able to be present to God. And when I am present to God, I can move through this world in love.
Isn’t that all each of us wants to do? Live into the truth of who God created us to be?
And be welcomed for who we are?
That’s what we do at St. John’s, that’s why I’m here. I suspect it’s why many of you are here too. We invite in the homeless, and we share our food with the hungry, we welcome the gays, the bisexuals, the transgenders, in addition to the heterosexuals. Our doors and our hearts are open to anybody who desires a place to worship God and to share in the Body of Christ. Our church has been a sanctuary for the oppressed and the outcasts for decades.
I have friends – gay friends and straight friends – who have challenged my religion. They ask a valid question –
Why do you want to be part of a church that has historically rejected gay people?
And I tell them about St. John’s:
I am the Deacon at a progressive Episcopal Church in the Mission District; Our Vicar is a gay man, he has a husband and a son;
He goes to Sacramento and Washington D.C. to fight for immigration reform; He marches in the streets protesting big banks and their predatory mortgage practices; He led the fight that stopped Wells Fargo from repossessing the house of our colleague, the Rev. Gloria del Castillo.
Richard Smith represents my values. When I look at Richard, I see a man who shares part of my story. It's true, he is a white male with lots of privilege, but he understands what it's like to be judged as other. Plus, he is one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever met. And I’m not saying this because he’s my friend, I’ve never told him any of these things.
Richard Smith is the priest this congregation wanted as its leader the moment the Rev. John Kirkley resigned in July of 2010. And he is the priest Bp. Marc appointed to be our Vicar in December of 2012.
Brothers and sisters, I am heartbroken that our Vicar had to send out an email warning us of a possible disruption in our liturgy this morning. And I am appalled that he believes it necessary to assure us that he is not a rapist or pedophile.
If Richard is not morally fit to be our Vicar, than I am not morally fit to be your Deacon.
This parish that has been a sanctuary for the oppressed is being terrorized by a virulent strain of homophobia that I thought had been abolished, at least in this city, decades ago.
Some of the qualities that make Richard such a remarkable human being – his sense of fairness, generosity and willingness to give everybody the benefit of the doubt - also leave him vulnerable.
Some of the qualities that make this congregation remarkable – radical hospitality, progressive politics and welcoming people just as they are - also leave us vulnerable.
Audre Lorde knew all about racism and homophobia. She wrote:
Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable know that survival is learning how to stand alone, unpopular
and sometimes reviled, and how to make common cause with those others identified as outside the structures in order to define and seek a world in which we can all flourish. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths.
Four years ago we welcomed the Rev. Gloria del Castillo and her congregation into our church. Gloria told us her people were refugees looking for a home. The leaders of both congregations identified as companions who stood outside the circle of society’s definition of acceptable. It is clear now that the marriage between our congregations failed because we were trying to build a relationship without respecting our differences. Survival requires us to embrace our differences and make them strengths.
But calling our Vicar the anti-Christ and suggesting that he is not morally equipped to lead our parish goes beyond a culture clash. It is defamation.
Our politically correct radical hospitality and fear of being called racist
has impaired our good judgment and silenced even the most vocal among us.
And here we are, reeling under the threat of protesters and police, the media and lawsuits; and our Vicar, the priest who embodies the values of the absolute majority of this congregation, the priest whom we sought for more than two years; here we are, being assaulted by the master’s tools wielded in the hand of the oppressed.
Until today, I entered this church just as I am. The unconditional acceptance that St. John’s had always offered is why I’ve stayed here over 20 years; I want this church to remain a sanctuary. The world needs this church to remain a sanctuary. I ask that you hold this community in your hearts, we need your prayers, and, as Birgit is about to tell you, we need your money too. Amen.
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