EVENT HORIZON
One of the fiercest debates among Anglican scholars concerns a single question. Can an Anglican bishop write a sermon so dense that no useful information can escape from it?
I used to be extremely skeptical of such an idea. After all, as many of you know, I spent a lot of time analyzing the sermons of Frank Griswold. Frank may be a heretic but Frank is a heretic in whom there is no guile. You always knew where you stood with Frank and he could communicate the Episcopal religion clearly, concisely and effectively.
Editor's note: Griswold was my bishop during a portion of the 90s and I can say that he had plenty of guile. He was a master of the Episcopal doublespeak where a bishop can say one thing and liberals and conservatives alike can agree with him. He was less guileless as p.b. I guess once you've reached the top of the hierarchy you feel more freedom to speak honestly.
But I’m starting to rethink my position.
I don’t know how any of you observed Earth Day this year but since I have all kinds of time on my hands these days, this is how I observed it. I drove my gas-guzzling [Note to self: at the next meeting of MCJ Corporate, propose "gazzling," a combination of "gas" and "guzzling," for the MCJ Style Book] pick-up around for no particular reason, enjoyed a 7-11 Double Gulp in a plastic cup I later threw away, didn’t recycle a bottle of Diet Peach Snapple and bought some microwavable dinner in a plastic container which will also get thrown away.
Also, I inadvertently left the lights on all night.
Katharine Jefferts Schori spent Earth Day at the NatCat delivering the following sermon. After a quick preliminary, the Presiding Bishop starts out like this:
Most of us in this part of the world don’t see real, live sheep-keepers very often, but we do have abundant examples of shepherding around us. The 23rd psalm may seem like a romantic idyll, but it’s profoundly about what sheep need – food, water, rest, and the ability to fend off predators. The psalmist describes behavior that is just as essential to human thriving as it is for sheep or goats. In order for any human community to be effective or live in productive harmony, it needs leadership.
When we start to talk about godly leadership, or shepherds like Jesus, we mean guidance toward what will nurture the life of the community as well as away from what will threaten or end the project. Good shepherding is life-giving and sustaining, and in the kind of language we use around here, it’s eternal. It is about what is ultimate, gracious, and abundantly life-giving. It seeks the welfare of the whole community, not simply the desires of an individual.
That’s dandy, Kate, but what does it have to do with Earth Day?
That’s the kind of leadership Jesus is claiming. It’s also the kind of leadership that he challenges his followers to exercise – he’s telling his disciples to go and do likewise: ‘Do you want to find that kind of ultimate, life-giving, gracious generosity? Well, then, gather ‘round and get with the program – because we’re going thataway, toward LIFE!’
Uh…maybe you didn’t hear my question.
This kind of holy shepherding is meant for all of us, in all our variety. We aren’t meant to march in lockstep, but to use the varied gifts of our creation and circumstances to gather others and move toward that kind of abundant life. That’s why we’re here this morning – to be fed and challenged to exercise a shepherd’s leadership wherever we live and move and have our being.
‘Kay.
We’re using a particular lens to focus that sort of leadership this Earth Day. How do we guide and shepherd our communities to tend the pasture? Ultimately we all depend on the same pasture for our earthly living – the springs of the water of life sustain us all, and the air breathed into us is rebreathed by other parts of this planetary garden. How we use and tend the pasture will either give life or limit it for those around us and those who will follow us.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
Think with me a bit more about sheep. Flocks of sheep, particularly undomesticated ones, have internal shepherds – shared leadership by wise elders who warn of danger and guide the flock along trustworthy paths to ancient pastures and water holes. But the capricious young also have a role – they give warning of what may or may not be approaching danger, and they can help discover new grazing in unfamiliar places as they flit about. The adolescent bucks usually wander off in search of territory with greater possibility and some of them develop into leaders of new flocks in the process.
In healthy human communities, effective shepherds understand themselves as part of the flock, and use their native gifts to collaborate with other sorts of leaders.
Or not. Class? What is Johnson’s Law of Intentional Profundity? Very good, class. You never sound as stupid as when you deliberately set out to sound profound.
That great dream of Revelation is an image of the flock of humanity gathered around their shepherd. Their wool is clean and white, not just because they’ve had a dip in the creek to wash the dirt off, but because all the burrs and thorns and parasites have been picked out. It’s immensely troublesome work to get a sheep looking like that – it’s not just a matter of a bath. And this isn’t just a single animal, like a country fair champion. An entire flock of sheep has been individually groomed until they reflect the sun like the top of a cloudbank. This great good shepherd cares for each part of creation as precious – beloved, even. These sheep are gathered, confident that one of their number will keep them in good grazing, and clean water, and away from the wolves. The lamb has become shepherd of all by shifting his concern from self to the whole. It is a cosmic image of the ancient challenge to care for the whole community rather than only one’s individual being.
Know something funny? I don’t think I’ve ever eaten mutton. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in the stores around here, even in the ones that sell bison or elk or meats like that. Although people do sell veal all over the place so I guess I can hit that some time. I’m not sure why I thought of that just now.
That’s the kind of shepherding we’re in for – recognizing the preciousness of the whole flock of creation. Not just the human ones, or the mammals, or the local pasture, but the vast web of interconnected matter we call creation. Every family, language, tribe, and nation of insect, woodland, coral reef, water vapor, and the rock below. Why do you suppose those sheep are waving palm branches? This cosmic act of salvation is about all creation, not simply a few human beings.
“Every family, language, tribe, and nation of insect, woodland, coral reef, water vapor, and the rock below. Why do you suppose those sheep are waving palm branches? This cosmic act of salvation is about all creation, not simply a few human beings.” Right.
I owe Frank Griswold an apology. In all the years I spent bitchslapping his sermons, I can’t remember a single time when Frank made me say, “Uh…WHAT?!!“ So if you want to read any of it, click on this Frank Griswoldlink and order a copy right away because I’m seriously thinking of putting that dog down.
Globally, awareness is growing that caring for the earth is an essential part of the human vocation. The sheep are beginning to become more conscious stewards of the pasture. It’s an aberration that has separated us from knowing that stewarding and reverencing the rest of creation is essential to human life – that aberration about eating an apple of self-centeredness and leaving the primordial garden pasture.
Maxim: when people read something you wrote and respond on their blogs, “Your guess is as good as mine” or “I think what the Presiding Bishop means here is…,” then not to put too fine a point on it but you suck at communication.
There won’t be green pastures and still waters for all until we become effective shepherds and pasture tenders for the whole creation. This work is about consciousness of our connection to the whole, and tender care of the other parts of that whole. It is simply another form of loving our neighbor as ourselves, for the neighbor is actually part of each one of us.
In her very next paragraph, the Presiding Bishop discusses bacteria before winding things up, I guess because of her “we’re all in this together” theme. Human beings, viruses, what’s the difference? Go ahead and insert any comment you want to because I stopped caring a long time ago and if I was still an Episcopalian and I had to sit through this atrocity, I’d have been playing Angry Birds about three minutes in.
I used to be extremely skeptical of such an idea. After all, as many of you know, I spent a lot of time analyzing the sermons of Frank Griswold. Frank may be a heretic but Frank is a heretic in whom there is no guile. You always knew where you stood with Frank and he could communicate the Episcopal religion clearly, concisely and effectively.
Editor's note: Griswold was my bishop during a portion of the 90s and I can say that he had plenty of guile. He was a master of the Episcopal doublespeak where a bishop can say one thing and liberals and conservatives alike can agree with him. He was less guileless as p.b. I guess once you've reached the top of the hierarchy you feel more freedom to speak honestly.
But I’m starting to rethink my position.
I don’t know how any of you observed Earth Day this year but since I have all kinds of time on my hands these days, this is how I observed it. I drove my gas-guzzling [Note to self: at the next meeting of MCJ Corporate, propose "gazzling," a combination of "gas" and "guzzling," for the MCJ Style Book] pick-up around for no particular reason, enjoyed a 7-11 Double Gulp in a plastic cup I later threw away, didn’t recycle a bottle of Diet Peach Snapple and bought some microwavable dinner in a plastic container which will also get thrown away.
Also, I inadvertently left the lights on all night.
Katharine Jefferts Schori spent Earth Day at the NatCat delivering the following sermon. After a quick preliminary, the Presiding Bishop starts out like this:
Most of us in this part of the world don’t see real, live sheep-keepers very often, but we do have abundant examples of shepherding around us. The 23rd psalm may seem like a romantic idyll, but it’s profoundly about what sheep need – food, water, rest, and the ability to fend off predators. The psalmist describes behavior that is just as essential to human thriving as it is for sheep or goats. In order for any human community to be effective or live in productive harmony, it needs leadership.
When we start to talk about godly leadership, or shepherds like Jesus, we mean guidance toward what will nurture the life of the community as well as away from what will threaten or end the project. Good shepherding is life-giving and sustaining, and in the kind of language we use around here, it’s eternal. It is about what is ultimate, gracious, and abundantly life-giving. It seeks the welfare of the whole community, not simply the desires of an individual.
That’s dandy, Kate, but what does it have to do with Earth Day?
That’s the kind of leadership Jesus is claiming. It’s also the kind of leadership that he challenges his followers to exercise – he’s telling his disciples to go and do likewise: ‘Do you want to find that kind of ultimate, life-giving, gracious generosity? Well, then, gather ‘round and get with the program – because we’re going thataway, toward LIFE!’
Uh…maybe you didn’t hear my question.
This kind of holy shepherding is meant for all of us, in all our variety. We aren’t meant to march in lockstep, but to use the varied gifts of our creation and circumstances to gather others and move toward that kind of abundant life. That’s why we’re here this morning – to be fed and challenged to exercise a shepherd’s leadership wherever we live and move and have our being.
‘Kay.
We’re using a particular lens to focus that sort of leadership this Earth Day. How do we guide and shepherd our communities to tend the pasture? Ultimately we all depend on the same pasture for our earthly living – the springs of the water of life sustain us all, and the air breathed into us is rebreathed by other parts of this planetary garden. How we use and tend the pasture will either give life or limit it for those around us and those who will follow us.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
Think with me a bit more about sheep. Flocks of sheep, particularly undomesticated ones, have internal shepherds – shared leadership by wise elders who warn of danger and guide the flock along trustworthy paths to ancient pastures and water holes. But the capricious young also have a role – they give warning of what may or may not be approaching danger, and they can help discover new grazing in unfamiliar places as they flit about. The adolescent bucks usually wander off in search of territory with greater possibility and some of them develop into leaders of new flocks in the process.
In healthy human communities, effective shepherds understand themselves as part of the flock, and use their native gifts to collaborate with other sorts of leaders.
Or not. Class? What is Johnson’s Law of Intentional Profundity? Very good, class. You never sound as stupid as when you deliberately set out to sound profound.
That great dream of Revelation is an image of the flock of humanity gathered around their shepherd. Their wool is clean and white, not just because they’ve had a dip in the creek to wash the dirt off, but because all the burrs and thorns and parasites have been picked out. It’s immensely troublesome work to get a sheep looking like that – it’s not just a matter of a bath. And this isn’t just a single animal, like a country fair champion. An entire flock of sheep has been individually groomed until they reflect the sun like the top of a cloudbank. This great good shepherd cares for each part of creation as precious – beloved, even. These sheep are gathered, confident that one of their number will keep them in good grazing, and clean water, and away from the wolves. The lamb has become shepherd of all by shifting his concern from self to the whole. It is a cosmic image of the ancient challenge to care for the whole community rather than only one’s individual being.
Know something funny? I don’t think I’ve ever eaten mutton. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in the stores around here, even in the ones that sell bison or elk or meats like that. Although people do sell veal all over the place so I guess I can hit that some time. I’m not sure why I thought of that just now.
That’s the kind of shepherding we’re in for – recognizing the preciousness of the whole flock of creation. Not just the human ones, or the mammals, or the local pasture, but the vast web of interconnected matter we call creation. Every family, language, tribe, and nation of insect, woodland, coral reef, water vapor, and the rock below. Why do you suppose those sheep are waving palm branches? This cosmic act of salvation is about all creation, not simply a few human beings.
“Every family, language, tribe, and nation of insect, woodland, coral reef, water vapor, and the rock below. Why do you suppose those sheep are waving palm branches? This cosmic act of salvation is about all creation, not simply a few human beings.” Right.
I owe Frank Griswold an apology. In all the years I spent bitchslapping his sermons, I can’t remember a single time when Frank made me say, “Uh…WHAT?!!“ So if you want to read any of it, click on this Frank Griswoldlink and order a copy right away because I’m seriously thinking of putting that dog down.
Globally, awareness is growing that caring for the earth is an essential part of the human vocation. The sheep are beginning to become more conscious stewards of the pasture. It’s an aberration that has separated us from knowing that stewarding and reverencing the rest of creation is essential to human life – that aberration about eating an apple of self-centeredness and leaving the primordial garden pasture.
Maxim: when people read something you wrote and respond on their blogs, “Your guess is as good as mine” or “I think what the Presiding Bishop means here is…,” then not to put too fine a point on it but you suck at communication.
There won’t be green pastures and still waters for all until we become effective shepherds and pasture tenders for the whole creation. This work is about consciousness of our connection to the whole, and tender care of the other parts of that whole. It is simply another form of loving our neighbor as ourselves, for the neighbor is actually part of each one of us.
In her very next paragraph, the Presiding Bishop discusses bacteria before winding things up, I guess because of her “we’re all in this together” theme. Human beings, viruses, what’s the difference? Go ahead and insert any comment you want to because I stopped caring a long time ago and if I was still an Episcopalian and I had to sit through this atrocity, I’d have been playing Angry Birds about three minutes in.
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