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

SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA ON THE FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 9 JULY 2006


"Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown and among their own kind, and in their own house." (Mark 6:4)


As all of you know, I grew up in St. Philip's Church, a large parish in Brooklyn, New York. I was an acolyte (at St. Philip's, you start off as boat-boy, the one who carries the incense boat, next to the thurifer, who gets to carry that smoking contraption known as a thurible.) I was a chorister. I belonged to, and eventually became president of the YPF (the Young People's Fellowship) whose name was eventually changed, to make it more specific, to Episcopal Young Churchmen --- in the days when such "sexist" expressions were normative.

About ten or twelve years after my ordination, the Rector retired. The search committee approached me and asked me to consider succeeding him. I was flattered. The clergy of St. Philip's, including Bishop Martin who preached my installation here at Calvary, had been strong role models for me, and what an honor it would be to walk in their footsteps! I envisioned returning to the community where I grew up and building on the great foundation that had been laid there for nearly a hundred years. I would be entrusted with the care of nearly two thousand souls. I responded that I would pray about it, but deep down I thought my praying was over. I was dying to get there. They sent me the literature. There was not much for that it could teach me. After all I had been baptized and confirmed there. My mother had been baptized and confirmed there. My parents had been married there. But I dutifully leafed through the pages of the parish profile. Then I stopped at the page that listed the members of the search committee, listed alphabetically. And there it was, the last name on the list staring back at me --- Marilyn Yearwood. Miss Yearwood (in the days before the invention of "Ms.") had been my first grade teacher at P.S. 70. That name served as a reality check. It occurred to me that it just might be difficult to return as rector to a parish where people remembered me as a little boy. I called the chair of the search committee and told him that upon reflection and after much prayer, I had decided not to let my name stand after all.

This incident came to mind as I read today's Gospel about Jesus' chilly reception in Nazareth, which caused him to say, "Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown and among their own kind, and in their own house." And Mark adds: "And he could do no power there." Like the character in Thomas Wolfe's novel, I felt I just couldn't go home again!

Is it true that we often distrust the familiar? We believe, for example, that an "expert" is someone who arrives with a briefcase from at least 100 miles away. In some dioceses it is a foregone conclusion that local clergy cannot be elected bishop because people know them only too well ---- they would rather give a stranger the benefit of the doubt. (But as we know, there are notable exceptions to this rule.) It's because we can pretend that a stranger is perfect, without blemish --- whereas we know only too well the foibles of our neighbors.

Such was the case with Jesus. He had been away from his hometown of Nazareth for some time. He had become a legend in his own time, traveling about the countryside, proclaiming the Kingdom, teaching the people, healing the sick, calling disciples. Word of his activity had spread. Now he was back home. He impressed the congregation, but Nazarenes just couldn't adjust to his new status. They said "We knew him when he was knee high to a grasshopper," and "Isn't he the son of a carpenter? We know his family. We knew him when!" Maybe part of the problem is that they had heard the expression "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" and they internalized a sense of inferiority.

Mark tells us that Jesus was amazed at their unbelief. It was a skepticism, not of the mind, but of the heart. If we read the Gospels, we see that Jesus was often quite tolerant and understanding of people struggling with the faith. The father of the epileptic boy said "I believe; help thou my unbelief," and Jesus did. He was certainly patient with Thomas, the so-called "doubting" disciple. I always like to point out, by the way, that the collect for the collect for St. Thomas' Day in the old Prayer Book begins, "Almighty God, who for the greater confirmation of the faith, didst cause thy servant Thomas to be doubtful. . ." Intellectual inquiry, even skepticism, is encouraged. That, after all, is how we grow in the faith and disabuse ourselves of antiquated ideas like the flatness of the earth and the inferiority of women.

What Jesus is rebuking his townspeople for, however, was a different kind of skepticism, an unbelief of the spirit. People with such unbelief nowadays know the Creed and the Lord's Prayer and maybe even the Ten Commandments. They have mastered liturgical aerobics, and memorized the top 40 hymns. But while they believe in God, they expect very little from God and cannot be depended upon to do anything for God. God is not an ongoing dynamic in their lives. Yes, they have memorized the top 40 hymns, but one of them is not "He walks with me, and he talks with me, and tells me I am his own."

Enough about Nazareth. What about Pittsburgh? The question we must ask ourselves is if Jesus is able to do deeds of power here ---- and we might add, throughout the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. We are at a time in our history as a church that few of us could have foreseen. The church worldwide seems to be divided into armed camps. And our weapons are words. One African archbishop is reputed to have said that the Episcopal Church is a cancerous lump which needs to be excised. One group claims that it is biblical and missionary, clearly inferring that others are not. Even among the dissidents (who call themselves orthodox) there is dissension among the ranks. Some, for example, have grown to accept women in holy orders; others maintain that such a view is incompatible with Scripture that "clearly" states that women should keep silence in church.

Some people blame human sexuality as the culprit. I don't. I blame the internet. In doing research about the church in South Africa, I learned that when Robert Gray, the first bishop of Cape Town, wished to settle a church dispute, he got on a boat and sailed to London. It was a month in each direction. When we relied on boats to take ourselves and our letters across the sea, by the time they arrived, people could have calmed down. They were not as mad as they were at the beginning of the journey. Now with the click of the mouse, untold millions of people can be bombarded with information --- or propaganda --- in a nanosecond! Hearts and minds are inflamed. Responses are formed, and by clicking "Reply all" the whole world can be privy to your thoughts in no time flat.

We are facing a new configuration, a new version of the Anglican Communion. Somewhere in my papers is a license issued by Michael Ramsay, then Archbishop of Canterbury, giving me permission to function as a priest in the Province of Canterbury for the time that I lived in England. Perhaps that will become a collector's item, in new Anglicanism, which, according to one interpretation of Archbishop Williams' recent "Reflections," will have two tiers of membership.

Let us remember one thing. Jesus could do no deed of power in Nazareth, not because he himself was powerless, but because the people impeded his power. The people, thinking of themselves more highly than they ought to think ---- the people, hardhearted and small-minded and self-serving, put themselves first (one definition of sin, by the way) and didn't allow Jesus' power to filter through. We have to decide if we will be instruments of Jesus' power, or if we will thwart his efforts to work among us and to build up His Church --- and, lest we forget, it is His Church, and not ours!

I have a confession to make. Last Monday night, Claudette and I, with our dear friends Janet and George Miles, went, under cloak of darkness, to the IMAX Theater at Pittsburgh Mills to see "The Return of Superman" --- in 3D! (If you're going to watch Superman, why not watch him flying over the audience?) In the film, Superman has been away for five years, during which Lois Lane has won a Pulitzer Prize for an article entitled "Why the World does not need superman." In one scene, Superman swoops down on the roof of the Daily Planet Building, and takes Lois for a ride far above the clouds. He looks down on Metropolis and says to her, "Some people say the world does not need a savior, but as I look at the needs and suffering of the world, it is clear that they do." I have to agree with Superman, but would suggest that that Savior's name is Jesus, and not Superman. As Jesus continues to save the world, we pray that he will begin with his church, "that wonderful and sacred mystery, so that his shredded garment may once again be a seamless robe.

Let us pray:
Gracious Father, we pray for thy holy catholic church. Fill it with all truth, in all truth with all peace. Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in anything it is amiss, reform it. Where it is right, strengthen it; where it is in want provide for it; where it is divided, reunite it; for the sake of Jesus Christ thy Son our Savior. AMEN.