An oak of righteousness

A sermon preached at Faith Episcopal on Sunday October 7, in celebration of the life of our oldest member, Doris Martin. The readings were a combination of readings for a funeral, Isaiah 61, Psalm 121 and the lessons appointed for this day, 2nd Timothy and Luke.

We celebrate this morning the life of one of the “oaks of righteousness” of this congregation, Doris Martin. I’m fairly sure that many of you did not know her, maybe never even met her. She used to sit right up here with Pat and Leah. Getting around was a challenge for Doris for the last couple of years, not that unusual for someone who had reached 93. One of the things that made Doris an oak of righteousness for me her refusal to let me bring her communion when she was not able to get out. Every time I suggested it she’d say, “No, that all right.” And then the next Sunday she’d be here, as if to say “I can come get it myself, thank you.” I appreciate an independent spirit when I see it.

This service today – part memorial and part regular Sunday worship was the most she would let us do. She didn’t want a separate fuss. Her ashes are going to be scattered at sea – no stone any where to note her dates but the enduring energy of Doris’s spirit and life now join unpretentiously with the multitude of faithful oaks who have gone before. It is interesting to me that the epistle reading today from the 2^nd letter to Timothy, part of the regular cycle of Sunday readings for today includes the only mention of a grandmother in the entire Bible. Doris was no one’s grandmother – except ours. She was a quiet example of faith – an oak whose roots hold the soil of our faith from being eroded. Grandmothers are important in part because they have seen more than we have. They have a longer view of things and a perspective that we have not yet achieved.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sweep of history that occurred within Doris’ years. She was born in 1914, the year that WWI began. Think of the events and changes of the last 93 years – WWI, the war to end all wars, the 19^th amendment that gave women the vote in 1920, the great stock market crash of 1929 and the depression that followed, WWII, atomic bombs, civil rights, the cold war, men on the moon, radio and television changing everything, and the first view of this fragile earth from space. It was a busy near-century. In every one of these developments there were people with a vision who led the way, led the charge, and led us to the next day. There were also those who fought every change. And then there were those who stood fast and helped to hold things together.

Doris was a committed Episcopalian and our church has had just about as many changes – the 1928 prayer book – the prayer book to end all prayer books, then the 1979 prayer book, the ordinations of all sorts of unacceptable people, black, women and gay. Did we lead the way or did we respond to cultural changes. A little bit of both. When Franklin Roosevelt created Social Security as a means of assuring that people could have some measure of security in their latter years, he did so following the model of the Episcopal Church Pension Fund. Bishop Lawrence, who just happens to be Peter’s great-grandfather, created a system of investment to provide retirement income for clergy and it has been so successful that it is the envy of every other church. During the Civil Rights struggle, Episcopal clergy and laypeople, including the wives of three New England Bishops, very proper Massachusetts matrons were arrested for non-violent resistance as they stood with people of color to end injustice. It only took us 57 years after women got the vote to grant them equality in the church. I’d say we were dragged kicking and screaming into that part of the brave new world. In the midst of all of these changes, quiet oaks of righteousness like Doris were steadfast. She didn’t let conflict chase her out of her faith home.

Sometimes it’s really hard to stand still – to not be blown off of your feet – when the winds of change blow fiercely. Ask Peter about trying to hit a golf ball at St. Andrews in 40 mph winds. He wasn’t just worried about where it would go after he hit it – if he hit it – he was trying not to fall down. I’m not sure that I can make this into a good metaphor because I don’t know if our faith is ball or the club or the golfer but the winds are real enough and I can see them all over the place.

In times of crisis – like the one in the Anglican Communions currently, the question is not how much faith we have – like the request of the apostles to Jesus in the Gospel – “Increase our faith!” but in what do we place our faith? That’s a real issue right now in our church. There are lots of voices shouting their answers at each other – I certainly have mine. Archbishops are making proclamations, bloggers are posting critiques, lawsuits drag on and yet in the midst of it, oaks of righteousness cling to the soil and remain upright. Maybe, if we can just hold still long enough, all of this shouting will wear itself out and we will find ourselves still together – a raggedy band of humans trying to live together on this little rock – guided by an image of how we might be. That is the holy calling in Paul’s letter to Timothy – knowing ourselves as called into this gospel of the kingdom that is already in our midst and within our grasp. It will not come about by insisting that someone agree with us or by stomping off in a huff when they don’t.

At the center of this debate is how we understand the Bible? For Episcopalians, historically, this was not much of an issue. I grew up during the time when all that we engaged in the Bible were the parts that made it into the prayer book and which were read on Sunday morning. Bible studies in Episcopal churches can often be put on the Endangered Species List. But now, if we want to pay attention to the important issues swirling around in our church and in the religious landscape – we would do well to be passionately interested in the Bible. Along with our tradition and reason it is the soil in which our roots take hold and keep us upright. It is important to know how you think of the Bible and the wisdom that is found therein. It should be a source of wonder and an invitation into the mystery of God. It should not be a weapon of exclusion, oppression or injustice. Recently the Episcopal Church was once again accused by someone else’s Archbishop, of having forsaken the Biblical roots of our faith. We could stomp our feet and say something mature like “Have not!” and waste lots of time stating a case for our way of interpreting scripture or we could stand very still, like an oak tree and let the winds blow themselves out as we look for ways to carry on. We have a chance every day to consider and imagine and live Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of heaven found in our midst. It is a compelling vision of justice and fairness, invitation and welcome, unity and joy. We probably can’t make it happen all at once but we can keep standing strong with our roots sunk deep in our faith.