It seems appropriate that in this primary convention of the Diocese of the Great Lakes, we do so in the context of remembering a celebrated missioner of our Church, Henry Martyn. My hope is that as we explore the Propers for this Feast, I can leave you with some images that will not only inform our missional posture as a unified Diocese, but that we might also carry them forward into our new identity.
I find it intriguing that in the Second Servant Song in Isaiah appointed for this day, we find Israel in a place of deciding what it wants to be. They are in a time of their history with little or no resources. We’re already ahead in that regard. Their ministry has seemingly come to a dead end and appears futile. Positive results are scarce. Yet, in the middle of confusion, wonderment of what is next, no little anxiety, and the community’s canons yet to be completed, a wonderful thing happens! When all seems lost and no clear way forward appears, a promise occurs that reminds them that human achievement, by itself, is not the mark or sign of faithfulness. Their reward is in God. Not their cleverness. Not their ingenuity. Do you remember the poignant lines from Wynonna Judd in her song, “Rock Bottom”?
“Things are tough all over, but I’ve got good news. When you get down to nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. In a way, rock bottom makes good solid ground. And a dead-end street is just another place to turn around.”
You have had to turn around not once, but many times in your history. It’s a sign of your reliance, and yes, even your abiding faithfulness. I’ve seen, and I am a witness to it. And here we are again in becoming a new Diocese. Even more, Isaiah reminds us, just as the prophet was reminding Israel, that our assurance is found in God and in God’s historic faithfulness. Not only that, as we are inheritors of this promise, we find the mission is now far beyond Jacob and Israel, it is far beyond any particular configuration of dioceses, it is now to the nations, to the end of the earth! The clear implication here, of course, is that this mission will include and perhaps even focus upon so-called “outsiders.” Psalm 98 says it well. We get to sing a new song as a new Diocese, for it is God who has done marvelous things! We shout with joy, lift up our voice, rejoice, and sing as a summons to all the nations.
All of this is a call to deep trust on our part, a trust in the goodness and mercy of God who has been with us all along and will continue to reside among us, and in us, and through us. As we move into inhabiting our new reality as a single Diocese, we are called to be clear about from where and in whom our true hope lies. That is foremost, and it has been at the center of my own prayer for us in lead up to this convention, when I hold up to God’s light who we are to be in our becoming as a new body.
And there’s more. Look where John’s Gospel takes us. I hope we recall that the part we read is actually the conclusion of the account of the Samaritan woman at the well. It must be read in that context (I was taught that a text without a context is a pretext). Samaritans and Jews had significant theological differences, most of which centered on a disagreement on the correct place to worship, Mt. Gerizim or Jerusalem. Yet an unexpected conversation ensues between Jesus and the woman.
When it is revealed that she has had five husbands, and one with whom she was now living was not her husband, I can only surmise that she was expecting a word of judgment, even shame. Hearing this, many jump to the conclusion that she is morally compromised. Not so fast. Isn’t it also possible, being understood as property, that she is in fact a victim of abuse and has been cast aside many times by men who have owned her. Jesus has uncovered her pain! Rather than seeing her as an immoral person, Jesus sees her as thirsty! Thirsty for love. Thirsty for mercy. Thirsty for hope. In offering her a liberating love, she is set free to witness to how she has been touched by him. Her life has been given back and she becomes a source of joy for the people of her community. It is then that Jesus assures her that the place of worship is not important. Jesus was giving her the assurance that God was seeking her, not doctrinal correctness.
Jacob’s well was located at a major fork in the road. So here we are at ours. Can we continue to be a witness to God’s radical hope that makes room for everyone? Henry Martyn spent his very short yet productive life translating the Gospel into the languages of other peoples and nations, so that God’s people could take in the Good News of life, and hope, and liberation. Do you remember the story of Desert Father Abba Arsenius (born 360 in Rome)? One of his students confronted this learned man as to why he would take the time to speak with a peasant on the street saying, “How is it that you, with such good Latin and Greek education, ask this peasant about his thoughts?” He replied, “I have indeed been taught Latin and Greek, but I do not know even the alphabet of this peasant.”
Jesus heard the language of the Samaritan woman, the language of her life and context, and it became a moment of transformation. She was buried, but now risen, and reborn. We are called to learn the language of the people we are called to serve; the language of their heart, the language of their pain, the language of their joy. Your other nation might be your next-door neighbor, the person sitting next to you right now, someone you will meet tomorrow. Jesus is teaching us in his response to the Samaritan woman, and key to our missional response, that the law of love takes precedence even over our desire for personal freedom. The water of the well is to be accessible to everyone, everywhere, all the time, because it is by those waters, the waters of Jesus, that we too are buried, risen, and reborn.
We are an organic unity, not derived from ideology or agreement on issues, but out of a relationship with a person, Jesus of Nazareth, in whose name we have been baptized. Allow me to offer you another image. Have you ever seen a “murmuration?” Hundreds, even thousands of starlings flying together in a whirling, ever-changing pattern, is a phenomenon of nature that amazes and delights. Some fish do it too. How do they do that? As they fly or swim, they seem connected as they twist and turn at a micro-second’s notice.
Scientists have been surprised to learn that the flying pattern of murmuration has more in common with physics than biology. It is now believed they are similar to other systems, such as crystals forming, avalanches, metals becoming magnetized, and liquids turning to gas. These systems exist on the edge, which means they are ready to be completely transformed in an instant. Like the elements in these other systems, each starling in a murmuration is connected to every other starling. The Body of Christ! When one turns a phase transition occurs.
Here we are in our “phase transition,” not just today, but for the future mission we are given. Being Christian is a call to a relationship that changes all other relationships. It is our phase transition, like the starlings. The implicit model of American Christendom we have received and too often absorbed, is that our main job is to break down people’s resistance to going to church —just work harder to get them to come. What is being called forth, however, is vastly different. It is a community able to turn in an instant, to live on an edge that is focused first on being the Reign of God present in your community. That’s what Jesus did at the well, inviting us into bold risk-taking because God is in our midst. That’s the community Isaiah was calling forth. That’s what Henry Martyn did in his missionary travels, when he engaged in conversations with Muslim scholars in Persia.
I hope you can join me, as a way of celebrating who we are and what we are becoming as the Diocese of the Great Lakes, to live and act knowing we do not exist primarily for those on the inside of the Church, but for the sake of those of our neighborhoods, the nations, whether one block away or half-way around the world. Our call, our mission, is to remain centered in the One who is our hope, and be a community who will continue to show up at the crossroads of a well, and there see the thirsty with compassion and hope. Along the way, we too will be transformed as we, residing by the vast waters that surround us, are buried, risen, reborn.
– Bishop Skip
The Rt. Rev. Gladstone B. “Skip” Adams, III
October 19, 2024, Feast of Henry Martyn, Priest & Missionary
Mt. Pleasant, Michigan
Convention Eucharist of the Primary Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of the Great Lakes
