Evening Prayer Sermon from NAES Biennial Conference 2018

The Rt. Rev. Robert C. Wright, Bishop of Atlanta


  For your reference:


I.

To anchor my remarks tonight, I want to use the words from the hymn we just sung. Hymn #605, to be exact, in the Hymnal. The title is “What does the Lord require?” That’s also the first line of the hymn. I think that’s a good question for us to stay tethered to as the world spins around. “What does the Lord require?” is also a good question for us to keep in front of our minds and hearts because of the calling that we share — the formation of young people.

As if that question isn’t enough, the hymn writer comes right back with a second question, “What sacrifice, desire or tribute did you bring?” “What does the Lord require? What did you bring?” And then the hymn writer, mercifully, helps us and answers his own two questions — turning his question marks into exclamation points. What does the Lord require? What did you bring? “Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.” You have noticed, the theme for our gathering is organized under those virtues even if stated a little differently: “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.” Yet, as time-tested and even self-evident as those virtues are, still the question for us is what does this mean for God’s children entrusted to our care? How do we continue, and even refine, the way we teach, learn, nurture, and exemplify these virtues, through the delivery system we call Episcopal schools?

II.

First, let’s check in with Willibrord of Frisia, an Archbishop from the 8th century whom the church remembers today. You remember him right? His work and his faith? How he freed captive children and saved them from ignorance. How he built places of worship and study. How he modeled, at critical intersections, the learning he’d received at the feet of great teachers. How the total child formation he received as a young person endowed him with the fortitude to persevere in the face of immense obstacles.

But Willibrord is probably best known for sharing his faith among the people of what we would now call the Netherlands. People who would now likely describe themselves as, ‘spiritual but not religious.’ Truth is, we don’t know much about Willibrord except that he had an exceptionally clear sense of purpose. Willibrord’s example helps us because it gives us a picture of the product we all want for all of our effort. Day to day, week to week — all the planning, the teaching, and all the administrating. We want to be regularly producing young people who have what they need to stand at life’s toughest intersections, and make purposeful, positive decisions equipped with learning paradigms that will serve them for a lifetime. That is what we want. That is the aim of how we spend our precious weeks and years.

III.

So how do we increase the likelihood of that outcome? That’s what this conference is about. How can we join the ranks of old Willibrord and countless others? For me, that means living into an identity that dictates purpose, and a purpose that nurtures identity. In my experience, people always get a little tongue-tied when they try to describe exactly what Episcopal identity is (and those are just the Episcopalians!). By now I think I have heard it all: Episcopalians are “Catholic-lite.” Or, Episcopalians don’t have very defined beliefs, they are just really nice people. But both of those descriptions couldn’t be more wrong. So, what are some of the core tenants of Episcopal identity?

I think primarily it means to center how we teach, how we welcome, why we focus on accessibility, why we practice service and generosity, because we understand God to be big. Episcopal identity at its core is about who God is. We understand God to be really big, creative, patient, loving, and wise. A big God with a really big family that includes all of us: the bees, the trees, the seas, the manatees, the neutrons, and the quarks.

We understand and teach that love is the authentic and central message of this big God, and that no one group or religion has all the answers. We talk in terms of a human family, not a human race. It means that we teach that truth is complex and takes a lifetime to understand, so we proceed gently and respectfully with people who have different interpretations than us. We teach that my piece of the truth needs your piece of the truth to really be truth.  

We teach that it is possible to have met God in the face of Jesus Christ, and to stand alongside people of other faiths as brothers and sisters on a journey, and not as people competing for religious market share. Together, really, in appreciation — with celebration — not just tolerance. When we say faith we mean an extension of the heart and our brains. For us, science and faith are siblings and not perpetually opposing forces.

We teach that God is not an American, and Jesus is not from Georgia, or wherever you are from, and that he may actually disagree strongly with the direction we find ourselves traveling in as individuals, communities, and a nation. So, we teach and practice reflection. And we teach the virtue of disagreement without being disagreeable. We believe that the fruit of reflection is prayer, so we pray for both the men and women of our armed forces, and for those they war against. For both the victims and the perpetrators of crimes. For us, having the hard conversations about increasing access to our schools and all the issues associated with it are worth it, because we understand diversity of all kinds is not about being politically correct. That is too small a notion.

Our work is to mirror the wild beauty of the imagination of God as seen in the people of God. We understand, that diversity in the student body without the same commitment evident in the staff and administration is woefully incomplete. We believe a good life is a balanced life, balancing excellence, service, and charity. We believe that self-centeredness frustrates grace, but being other-centered is divine. We don’t teach that guilt, shame, or obligation are part of God’s pedagogy — ever. We teach that all we have is gift, all of it: bright minds, trust funds, healthy bodies, and even natatoriums.

In short, friends, the great opportunity that you and I have, as part of God’s delivery system known as Episcopal schools, is to minister to the whole child and the whole world: academic rigor for the head, compassion to enlarge the heart, and the work of our hands focused by service to neighbors near and far. That kind of school has a bright future. That kind of school is a smart investment. That kind of school makes God smile and God’s people rejoice.

IV.

The last stanza of hymn 605 wraps all this up nicely. “How shall our life fulfill God’s law so hard and high? Let Christ endue our will with grace to fortify. Then justly, in mercy, we’ll humbly walk with God.” That is it, isn’t it? If any of Willibrord’s work will continue at our locations, it will be because you and I use the same medicine as he did. Somehow, maybe even this evening, we are going to have to say ‘yes’ again.

‘Yes’ to giving our life and our work solely to one thing, to increasing the celebrity of Jesus Christ through the work of schools. The way forward for us is clear. It is downward. Down into purpose. Down into faith.

You know, all a bishop is really, is an overdressed church visitor. And routinely I get to visit churches and lead worship. Everyone expects me to do all the praying when I visit their church. But I routinely like to shake things up. Clergy are not the only people who can pray. So one Sunday, not long ago, prior to worship, I asked the altar party who would like to pray. Of course, all of the adults started looking at their shoes. After an awkward pause, a very sweet ten-year-old volunteered to pray. And here is what she said:

“God, we thank you for everything. Everything. And what we want today is for you to have a full life here. AMEN.”

She nailed it didn’t she? That is all we really want at our schools, in all our teaching and administering. For God to have a full life. A full life. Yes!

AMEN