Go Your Way
A sermon for the Pittsburgh Chapter of the Episcopal Women's Caucus
Go your way; behold I send you out as lambs inthe midst of wolves." (Luke 10:1-9)
When I was first asked to be with you tonight, the invitation came with a plea that found its way into and captured the inner chambers of my heart. "We have become as strangers and sojourners in our own home. Please," the email read, "come and preach to us a word of hope." Whatever else I planned to be doing tonight, nothing else seemed to matter but that I be here with you. And so, I am--with great joy and honor and delight. It is a distinct privilege to be here with you and I thank you for the invitation.
Oh, but it's not what you think. Let me be very, very clear: I'm not here because you need me to bring you hope. Indeed, in the great mystery of the kairos of God, this week brings with it news for great rejoicing. The settlement of the lawsuit between Calvary Church and the Diocese of Pittsburgh brings reason enough for hope for the future--most especially in terms of the `dwelling places of God,' of which St. Paul speaks to the Church in Ephesus (Ep. 2:13-22). The ancient assurances of St. Paul to the Ephesians seems to have direct application for you this week: "So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God" (Ep. 2:19) Amen? Amen!
Truth be told, I am here because you are here and that, my sisters and brothers, brings me great hope. It's so easy for me to be smug and complacent, especially in a place like the one I call my spiritual home-- the Episcopal Diocese of Newark--where the full integration of women, racial and ethnic minorities and lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people into the life and leadership of the diocese is simply a way of life. Oh, we're far from perfect, trust me, but from where I sit, it is so easy to forget that places like the Diocese of Pittsburgh still exist.
I come tonight into your midst for the great privilege of preaching the gospel. And, what a gospel it is! (Luke 10:1-9) Jesus has appointed `seventy others' and sent them out on their first mission initiative. He gives them detailed instruction about how they are to accomplish their mission, two by two, healing the sick and preaching: "The kingdom of God has come near to you." Now, hear the words of inspiration, the words of incentive and motivation Jesus gives to the seventy: "Go your way," he says, adding, "behold I send you out as lambs in the midst of wolves."
I know. In the Peaceable Kingdom of Isaiah (Is. 11:2-4), "the wolf shall lie down with the lamb." But, as activist, Dick Gregory, is often quoted as saying, "When the lamb lies down with the wolf, I can tell you one thing for sure--that lamb ain't going to be getting much sleep."
The Anglican Communion has always been, in the words of C.S. Lewis, "the roomiest room in all of Western Christendom." I pray that we will always have this spirit of gracious accommodation of both the prophetic and the pastoral. For I believe that it is at the crossroads of life--the intersection of our diversity of thought and being--where we meet Jesus fully incarnate and fully alive.
So, on to hope. I want to speak specifically to the hope women bring to this church. Indeed, I believe women, as the bearers and birthers of life in this dark and deadly world, are vessels of hope. Hear that: Women are vessels of hope. Hope which makes action possible. Hope which enables boldness. Hope which inspires risk. That kind of hope is what makes Jesus say to the seventy: "Go your way; behold, I send you out as lambs in the midst of wolves." For that hope is what helps the disciples in any age and time hear those words not as a suicide mission, but rather as a call to new life - to tender pastoral care, healing the sick, and bold prophetic action, proclaiming the nearness of the Kingdom of God--in Christ Jesus.
To this end, I want to turn our attention to the women of the Southern Hemisphere. We've been hearing a great deal from one man, one Primate, who roars to us from the African nation of Nigeria. I want to tell you what I have recently learned about the women of Nigeria--especially the Igbo ethnic group.
I am privileged to be a colleague and classmate in a doctoral program with a man named Tab Chukunta, who speaks proudly of the Ibgo women of Nigeria. He says, "Women in my ethnicity have made their mark on national and international circles. The history of the independence movement in Nigeria began with women. It was not the men but the women who organized the overthrow of the British colonial taxation policy in Nigeria in 1929." They did this by forming protest marches--what Chukunta calls the first `Million Women March"--which history reports as the Aba Riots.
A personal encounter with the political organizing strength of the Igbo women that Chukunta relates is, for me, a parable about the power of women to go forth as `lambs among wolves' and become vessels of hope. He tells the following story: "In 1967 a major culture change and shift in power took place in my village. The Chief was dethroned and he was dethroned by the Women's Council." Chukunta, at age 16, was privileged to act as his father's orderly as he mediated between the Chief and the executive branch of the Women's Council. As such, he had a birds-eye-view of the ability of the Igbo women to seek independence and effectively lead revolutionary movements. The strategy of these women is absolutely brilliant and offers a model of effective grassroots leadership for us today.
Chukunta reports: "The women executed an ancient but effective strategy: they marched on the Chief's compound--miles and miles of women, marching in single file--until they circled the entirety of the Chief's residence. My father, told the Chief, `That is your first warning.' But, the Chief ignored the women." said Chukunta with a wry smile. "When he did not change his policy, they initiated family action." Listen to this, my sisters and brothers, and hear the power of women. "On a selected date every woman refused to go to the Market Place. They did not buy or sell food-- and they . . . stopped . . . cooking."
Still, the Chief did not relent. But, the women's true brilliance was yet to be seen. "On another selected date, every woman refused. . .. to sleep . . at home but, instead, at the Market Square. That," says Chukunta, "was the last straw! The community elders in consultation with my father determined the Chief must go." And so, he did. This and other historic, successful political action by Ibgo women have lead the Rev'd Dr. Samuel Proctor to comment that Harriet Tubman must have been from the Igbo tribe. `And ain't she a woman?' Indeed!
We have much to learn from our sisters in the Southern Hemisphere - about courage in the face of adversity and creativity in the face of scarcity. We need to reclaim our ancient skills and abilities as women and use them as effective tools of a revolutionary movement for justice with peace. Because, my sisters, if we don't, who will? If we don't, who will?
There is great hope in this church, tonight. Yes, I know that from where you sit, the church looks to be in an ungodly mess. It is more than a bit scary, especially for you who sit at the epicenter of the split which is being forced upon the church by those who believe in the deepest places of their hearts and minds that they have it right and we have it wrong. That I, and women and men like me, are what is wrong with--and indeed evil in--this church of ours. But, you know the truth. And, you know what must be done. God is calling you to that mission field.
One person's ungodly mess is another person's perspective of the chaos of a new creation. Listen. Listen carefully, my friends, and you will hear it. The spirit of Ruach, the breath of God that breathed over the swirling mess and called forth creation is alive in our church.
The spirit of Ruach, the breath of God that was the last breath of Jesus from the cross, is calling us to travel beyond what Martin Smith calls "the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith" over death and into a new life of resurrection. The spirit of Ruach, the feminine spirit of God, is with us, and She whispers to us from the empty tombs of our lives, "Come. Be not afraid. The kingdom of God is near."
At the last great revolution of women in this church, Alla Bozarth, one of the prophets of the movement to ordain women in the Episcopal Church wrote these words:
There is a new sound
of roaring voices in the deep
and light-shattered rushes in the heavens.
The mountains are coming alive,
the fire-kindled mountains
moving again to reshape the earth.
It is we sleeping women,
waking up in a darkened world,
cutting the chains
from off our bodies with our teeth,
stretching our lives over the slow earth,
seeing, moving, breathing in the vigor
that commands us to make all things new.
It has been said that while the women sleep
the earth shall sleep. But listen!
We are waking up and rising,
and soon our sister will know her strength.
The earth-moving day is here.
We women wake to move in fire.
The earth shall be remade.
Jesus said to the seventy then, as he says to women today who are vessels of hope, these words of bold risk and action: "Go your way; behold I send you out as lambs in the midst of wolves." To which I ask the church to say, "Amen." And again, I say, Amen.