Sermon preached by The Rev. Dr. Harold T. Lewis

SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND HAROLD T. LEWIS, Ph.D., D.D., D.C.L. RECTOR OF CALVARY CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE FORTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CONSECRATION OF THE RIGHT REVEREND RICHARD BEAMON MARTIN AS A BISHOP IN THE CHURCH OF GOD IN THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF THE INCARNATION GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK ON THE FEAST OF ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM 27 JANUARY 2007

"For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to withstand or contradict." (Luke 21:15)

On the Feast of the Epiphany, 1989, many of us gathered in this cathedral church for a rare milestone among ecclesiastical celebrations --- the fortieth anniversary of the consecration of Jonathan Goodhue Sherman, fifth bishop of Long Island. Present, too, were Robert Campbell Witcher, his successor, and Orris George Walker, Jr., newly minted coadjutor. The preacher on that occasion began his sermon with these words: "Nowadays," he remarked, "consecrations often take place in theatres, and stadiums, and arenas. Oh, they dress it up the best way they can --- with floral arrangements and crosses, etc., but after the service, all the ecclesiastical accoutrements are removed, and the venue is once again a theatre, a stadium or an arena. All of the bishops here present," continued the preacher, "were consecrated in this cathedral church, and it is so good to return to it and see that it is still a cathedral."

Well, what goes around comes around! The preacher on that occasion was Richard Beamon Martin, and we gather today to give humble and hearty thanks to Almighty God that Bishop Martin has returned to this place, still a cathedral, to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of his own consecration as a bishop in Christ's holy catholic church. This is, as Bishop Martin himself would say, "an high day in Zion," and I cannot begin to tell you what a privilege it is for me, a son of this great diocese, and a spiritual son of Bishop Martin's, to have the honor to make this homiletic offering on this occasion. And as we offer up the eucharist this morning, let us hold up before God, Annelle Hoover Martin, the bishop's companion in life and ministry for nearly 64 years, who, although impeded by illness from being with us today, is certainly present in spirit.

Now we are a few days early in our celebration. Bishop Martin's consecration actually occurred, as did his priestly ordination, on the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple (although devotees of our Lady are more likely to call it the Feast of her Purification). But as it turns out, today's observance could not have been more propitious, because it is the Feast of St. John, the fourth century bishop of Constantinople, whose renown as a preacher was so great that he was called "Chrysostom," which means "golden-mouthed." In the more than six decades that have elapsed since his ordination, Richard Martin has been a Christian gentleman, a consummate pastor, and a deft administrator --- of parishes, archdeaconries (including one archdeaconry for colored work) and dioceses, not to mention the national church. But when all is said and done, the man of God whom we honor today is a world-class preacher, a skillful homiletician, who not only expounds sound doctrine from the pulpit but has never forgotten that good preaching is good story-telling. Listen to his description of the role of the preacher: "The preacher is constantly searching to transcribe the events of today against the backdrop of the eternal event of the incarnate and resurrected Lord." But one of the reasons that Bishop Martin's preaching is so effective is that his heart and soul are in it. "The personal life of the preacher," he writes, "cannot be disassociated from the message he or she proclaims."

And we who have sat at his feet for so long know that he can weave into his sermons five or six tales, anecdotes and rich illustrations, yet never drop a stitch! And all of this without benefit of so much as a 3x5 index card! Bishop Martin takes his marching orders from the prophet Ezekiel, who proclaimed, "Whether they hear or refuse to hear, they will know that a prophet has been among them." Bishop Martin follows the cogent advice of the Blessed Apostle in his letter to the Corinthians: "For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? So likewise ye, except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be known what is spoken?" In so doing, he has become for us Richard Chrysostom, a golden-mouthed preacher for our time. As we give thanks today for his rich ministry that has touched all of us in myriad ways, I ask that you meditate with me on the 15th verse of the 21st chapter of St. Luke's Gospel: "For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to withstand or contradict."

These words of Jesus appear at the end of a passage which begins with people in the crowd admiring the magnificent Temple at Jerusalem, the imposing project begun by Herod the Great that spanned some 84 years. It boasted marble floors and pillars, and golden altars and bejeweled appointments of every kind. But Jesus tells them that the Temple would ultimately be destroyed, that "the days will come when there shall not be left here one stone upon another." When they hear this, the disciples want to know if there will be signs that will prepare them for this calamity, Jesus tells them that it is not that easy, not that cut-and-dried. Instead, they must prepare for uncertainty; they must beware of false prophets when they appear. Jesus tells them that they will suffer persecution, that they will be accused of all manner of transgressions. Jesus disappoints them when he tells them there is no script, no magic formula that he can give them for their hour of despair. Rather, when the time comes, God will give them a mouth and wisdom --- that is, both the words to say and the insights needed to testify clearly. We must remember that when Jesus gave this discourse, Christianity was still illegal in the Roman Empire in which Caesar was god. There was a need, therefore, to be fearless, and to be a witness for the faith, sometimes even a witness unto death. Someone once said, "If Christianity were still illegal, and you were arrested for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?" But that, perhaps, is another sermon!

My sisters and brothers in Christ, is not this story --- of Jesus speaking to a people concerned about the destruction of the Temple, a parable for our times? The Episcopal Church, indeed the Anglican Communion, has been for us a beautiful temple, adorned with jewels and precious metals. Like Herod's Temple, it seemed indestructible. Wherever Anglicanism held sway, it seemed to be, to borrow Luther's words, "a bulwark never failing." Anglicans, at least privately, prided themselves on being, perhaps, just "a little lower than the angels" and far wealthier than their heavenly cousins. Evangelism was deemed unnecessary because it was thought that everyone with good sense, and certainly everyone with good taste, would beat a path to our doors. Episcopalians pointed with delight to the fact that despite our small numbers, we were disproportionately represented in Congress and among the residents of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And our new Presiding Bishop broke the rules by blabbing to The New York Times what had been until then an open secret --- that Episcopalians are the most educated people on the planet. Now while the Episcopal Temple is hardly destroyed, its foundations have been weakened, and artillery fire has left gaping holes in its side. Gone are the days when we only read about the Episcopal Church on the social pages; now we are front page news and it isn't pretty ---- internecine warfare, uncharitable utterances, and even mass defections of congregations seeking a "purer" form of Anglicanism.

And in the wake of these developments, false prophets are popping up all over the place, often claiming dioceses and provinces should be "porous," based on ideological similarities among believers instead of geographical contiguity. People, too, are scurrying about looking for signs, wondering what they should say. And they say, write and blog any number of things, much of it nonsensical, offensive and devoid of even a modicum of sound theology. Like the disciples of old, we think everything can be solved by some arbitrary sign or mantra, not realizing that such practices are akin to applying band-aids to a cancer. Whip up a new title, like "Primatial vicar." Further divide the church by declaring some bishops "Windsor-compliant" and others not. Whip up a new document called a covenant. Do a little reshifting of committees, such as stacking the Anglican Consultative Council with primates, or creating a Vatican-esque "panel of reference." Change a canon here or there. All of these proposals are like the proverbial practice of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. My friends, at this juncture in the church's life, what we really need, like Jeremiah, in this morning's Old Testament lesson, is the Lord to put words in our mouth. What we really need is a mouth and the wisdom to go along with it. What we really need is a certain trumpet. What we really need is the temperance and sagacity --- and yes, the sanctity of church leaders like Richard Beamon Martin, who, having borne the burden in the heat of the day, see our current crisis through a different and more effectual set of lenses.

Richard Beamon Martin can see through the folly of the commonly held misconception that everything in the church was just fine until the ordination of a gay bishop. He knows firsthand that during the reportedly "good ol' days," took place the historical disenfranchisement of a people who in this country and this church have been called successively Africans, coloreds, Negroes, blacks, Afro-Americans and African Americans. Bishop Martin learned the faith in a tiny, one-room chapel in Pawleys Island, South Carolina, while whites worshipped their Lord on several acres of prime land a few miles away. He remembers being told by his bishop that attending the Philadelphia Divinity School was not an option, because colored men who trained north of the Mason-Dixon Line had trouble adjusting to life in the South when they returned (read "stay in their place"). He remembers attending colored convocations at a time when blacks were not allowed to participate in diocesan conventions. Even as a bishop, he learned that a black faced trumped a purple shirt, as when he was told by a rector whose congregation was expecting a white bishop that it's like offering them hamburger when they had been promised sirloin --- or when the not-so-subtle message came to him that taking up residence in the see city of his own diocese would be problematic.

These, and a host of other incidents never caused Bishop Martin's faith to flag. Racism never consumed him, never embittered him, never deterred him from his mission and ministry. A clue to the reason for this is found in his book, On the Wings of the Morning: "Suffering is distilled love that reveals the true nature of the spiritual stamina and foundation of the soul," he writes. "Our part is to live with the questions; to live into the questions, to live beyond the questions." His stamina, in turn, has been fueled by his theology of the ministry: "The essence of priesthood," believes Bishop Martin, "is reconciliation. It is by the grace of God that the priest stands as a sign and symbol of the reconciling Lord."

So what can we say to this minister of the Gospel who has outlived all of his fellow bishops who attended Bishop Payne Divinity School? What can we say to this nonagenarian who is the Church Pension Fund's greatest nightmare --- someone whose years of receiving a pension rival the number of years he received a paycheck? What can we say to a faithful priest and bishop who has witnessed sea changes in the life of the Episcopal Church, and lived through the upheavals caused by women's ordination, Prayer Book revision, the civil rights movement, and now the debate over human sexuality? --- one who remembers being a deputy to General Convention in 1955, which took place in Hawaii because Tollie Caution and Thurgood Marshall stormed the Presiding Bishop's office and demanded that he move the Convention from Houston which could not promise accommodations for colored deputies? What can we say to a pastor, priest and prophet who has done much in recent years, even after his so-called retirement, to keep the church on an even keel as she navigated uncharted waters? The simple answer is "We can say nothing at all." We who are dwarfed by his spiritual stature, humbled by his holy demeanor, and pauperized by the wealth of his experience and intellect, cannot presume to lecture to Richard Martin. But I do think we can ask him a question. It is a question I borrow from the late Donald Coggan, Archbishop of Canterbury, who asked a group of preachers the same question asked us by customs officials at the airport: "Do you have anything to declare?"

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that like Jeremiah, the Lord God knew me before he formed me in my mother's womb, and sanctified me, and made me a prophet unto the nations."

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that I have endeavored, day by day, to be faithful to my vows as a deacon, to be modest and humble, and to have a ready will to observe all spiritual discipline."

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that I have endeavored, day by day, to be faithful to my vows as a priest, that I never cease in my labor, until I have done all that lieth in me, to bring all such as are or shall be committed to my charge, unto that agreement in the faith and knowledge of God, and that there be no place left in me, either for error in religion ore for viciousness in life."

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that I have endeavored, day by day, to be faithful to my vows as a husband, and did plight my troth to my beloved Annelle, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part."

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that I have endeavored, day by day, to be faithful to my vows as a bishop, remembering to "stir up the grace of God, . . . for God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and love, and soberness."

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare that I have endeavored, day by day, to be a source of and a force for reconciliation, bringing together all sorts and conditions of men and women, so that together we can sing: I'm gonna sit at the welcome table, I'm gonna sit at the welcome table, I'm gonna sit at the welcome table, One of these days.

Richard, bishop of the Church of God, do you have anything to declare? "I declare, in the words of the great priest and hymnwriter Charles Wesley, A charge to keep I have, A name to glorify, A never-dying soul to save, And fit it for the sky.

To serve the present age, My calling to fulfill: O may it all my powers engage To do my master's will.

Arm me with jealous care, As in Thy sight to live; And O Thy servant, Lord prepare A strict account to give!

+And now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, we ascribe as is most justly due, all honor, might, majesty, dominion and power, henceforth, now and forever. AMEN.