It was an extraordinary experience growing up
with a Roman Catholic father and an Episcopalian mother, as well as attending a
Roman Catholic elementary school while an active member of an Episcopal church.
Although I never felt that this mixture was difficult, it was very problematic
for some others even before I was born. When my parents engaged, Dad's
Irish-Catholic relatives grieved. It seemed to them that my father would be
excommunicated from the "one, true church" and probably suffer in this world
and the next. As far as I know, Mom's family accommodated the betrothal. For
reasons I can only imagine and applaud, my parents eloped, were married by a
Methodist minister, and dutifully had their marriage blessed afterwards in a
Roman Catholic rectory. To receive that benediction, Mom was required to
promise that any children would be raised Roman Catholic. On that occasion, she
was told by the insensitive priest that she, a Protestant, would probably ruin
her husband's life. As a result of the cleric's malarkey, Dad excommunicated
the Roman Church for several years of his life. As their only child, I arrived
in their eighth year of marriage and was baptized in the Episcopal Church. I
never sensed religious conflict in our home.
By age eight I was an acolyte and attended
Sunday School in my Episcopal parish. I think I learned to crayon and memorize
my way into heaven, underwent a routine confirmation, while enjoying parish
fairs, picnics, and wonderful fellowship.
Concurrently I was a student at a Roman Catholic
day school staffed by Dominican nuns. I was the school's only "non-Catholic" -
as they used to say with pity. Regrettably, by the time I transferred elsewhere
for junior high, the sisters had told me that my churchgoing "didn't count,"
that non-Catholic marriage ceremonies were "like jumping over a broom and then
claiming to be married," that all Roman priests were holy and the sisters came
in a close second as "brides of Christ," and that if we had truly received the
Holy Spirit's gift of faith, we wouldn't question any doctrinal mysteries. We
were encouraged to live in a wonderland of miracles, saints, martyrdoms, bad
and good angels - including our very own personal, ever-spying,
always-protecting guardian angel. World-rejecting moral perfection under Roman
direction was presented as Christ's only way.
We Episcopalians regarded the First
Congregational Church down the street as not "First" in anything. We thought
that their unadorned services were like town meetings never to be upset by
their minister, who could be fired if members didn't like a sermon. Across the
street was the Universalist Church where Aunt Betty went to play cards,
apparently their peculiar way of worshiping. As for the Roman Catholics, we
pitied them for having their menus and number of children dictated by a
humorless Italian Pope. We did envy their ability to sin readily and be
forgiven repeatedly at weekly confessions.
For our "Low Church" Episcopal parish,
"ecumenical" meant holding suspect but not excluding the graduates of so-called
"High Church" Episcopal seminaries like Nashotah House, General Seminary, and
Berkeley. For us, church unity meant tolerating Boston's Episcopal Church of
the Advent - which had "Masses" with smells and bells, ministers called
"priests" and "Father," and strange vestments. We revered our necktie-wearing
cathedral dean in Boston and had earlier empathized with cathedral members who
had been extremely upset, as our congregation had been, when candles were
placed on the altar...a Romish thing.
For us, fifty years ago, mixed marriages and too
much socializing with High Church Episcopalians, Congregationalists,
Universalists, or Roman Catholics were subtly discouraged. Yet, this Christian
disunity was just one part of the larger picture of human discord. We didn't
know what a Jew was until Brandeis University was founded in our city, and we
expected the worst. "The Negro Problem," as it was called, and their strange
shrieking in word and song in their primitive churches, was a Greater Boston
issue, not ours.
It's amazing, isn't it, the issues that were
crucial, important, and sadly divisive just a few years ago! Anyone different
from our group, religious or otherwise, was distrusted as probably wicked or
worse: ill mannered. Our prejudicial stereotyping led us to affirm the worst
about them all. How we were shocked to discover that, for the most part, many
others felt similarly about us! Such ignorant bigotries were among the basic
values I recall from the 1940s and 50s, and they are not entirely strange
today. I am confident that you all have similar recollections and current
observations.
As Christians gather annually at this time, we
often reflect on Christian Unity. In doing so, let us not be simplistic. From
the very beginning of Christianity, the followers of Christ have never been
fully united in heart and mind. The portion of Paul's First Letter to the
Corinthians read this morning is a first century appeal for unity among
quarreling, divided Christians. In fact, the entire New Testament includes
"different ancient Christianities - the different and often conflicting ancient
Christian self-understandings and orientations to the world." Moreover, "almost
one hundred different images of the church in the New Testament" have been
isolated. If this has been the case from the outset, what unity can we hope
for, indeed work for, realistically? How can we, in St. Paul's words, "be
united in the same mind and the same purpose?"
Let me suggest that we affirm four elements of
unity already evolving. FIRST, Christians everywhere can now profess unity as
The Blessed Company of All Faithful People, a people gracefully responding to
Christ's call to turn their lives around, to follow him, and to be ready for
the coming reign of God. SECOND, we can confirm unity as the Body of Christ,
the community in which Christ's Spirit dwells among members exercising
different gifts for the well-being of His community. The Body of Christ is now
united by a common baptism, a holy identity, and is nurtured by corporate
worship - especially for us in the Holy Eucharist. THIRD, we are united as the
Fellowship Founded by the Holy Spirit, commissioned and empowered to proclaim
Jesus as the Risen Lord and Messiah, God's Word Made Flesh, and all that this
Proclamation implies for daily living. And, FOURTH, we can recognize our unity
as the Community of Hope which acknowledges God's Sovereignty now and in the
future.
Like any human community, as with any family, we
Christians will continue to disagree about many self-understandings as well as
the structures and strategies of our oneness in Christ. Nonetheless, a more
comprehensive unity is within our grasp: if we will set aside intellectual,
spiritual, and jurisdictional arrogance, if we will welcome diversity
compatible with our essential mind and purpose, and, if we faithfully
acknowledge only Jesus Christ as the Church's One Foundation. We are called
today to renew our Unity in Christ and to dare an even fuller, graceful
wholeness. If we Christians needlessly quarrel among ourselves, how will we
ever credibly address the many other issues of human fragmentation? You and I
pray today to answer readily the call of Christ, to proclaim to all people the
Good News of his salvation. With Peter, Andrew, James and John we are called to
persevere as united disciples of Christ, as Episcopalians, and as the
fellowship of Bethesda-By-The-Sea.