June 26, 2016: May God’s words alone be spoken, may God’s words alone be heard.  Amen.

Last weekend I had the privilege to attend two services in the diocese – the first was the ordination of Young Yoon, our newest priest in the church, and a young man of deep and abiding faith, whom I got to know well two years ago on our pilgrimage to Taize France. The other service was the retirement, after nearly 20 years, of the Rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, Mother Lauren.  Grace was the first place I served as a seminarian, and I learned a lot there from Mother Lauren.  She began her ministry at a time when women were not really called to lead many parishes, much less what we call a cardinal parish (a large parish in attendance and resources), which Grace happens to be.  Truth be told, this is still a problem in the Episcopal Church – there is still a stained glass ceiling.  And after almost 2 decades of service to this large cornerstone of the community of Madison that is Grace Episcopal, Mother Lauren was giving her final sermon in that place.

Two priests, one starting out, the other letting go and moving on.  There was, I believe, a synchronicity to the whole experience.  And while they are in different places of ministry, one was essentially making way for the other in a poetic way – there was, in a very real sense, a passing of the torch, or as we heard this morning, the mantle.

“Elijah and Elisha. One was getting ready to [leave his life work, the other preparing to begin it.] One was taking off, the other taking on; the one giving up the mantle, the other putting it on; the one crossing the Jordan for the last time, the other for the first time.”[1]  Elijah was mentoring an eager Elisha, preparing him for the time when Elijah would depart.  And in those final days, after they had crossed the Jordan, Elijah says to his younger charge, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” [And], Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.”

Now, you have to wonder about that request, right?  What exactly does that mean?  I mean, maybe Elisha should have asked for something practical, like, I don’t know, a rule book, or a compass for all those crazy desert crossings, or a maybe a Top 10 list of things no wandering prophet should ever do, or a manual on this whole prophet thing, right?  But instead, he tells Elijah “Make mine a double!,” and in this very request, he is showing that he has learned something very important about this prophet work.

You see – prophets do not do the work themselves.  Elisha knew that if he were to carry this work on, he needed to have the spirit that Elijah had, even doubly so (showing his humility in the presence of his mentor) – a spirit that would enable him to be open to being used by God for work in the world.

And when Elijah was taken up to God in what can only be described as the most fabulously Hollywood dramatic display of fire in almost a space-age version of the chariot race from Ben Hur, Elisha saw that Elijah’s mantle, his cloak of sorts, was left behind, and he picked it up – the transition was complete, and the journey was now Elisha’s alone.

This story of Elijah and Elisha is not only a beautiful narrative, but profoundly descriptive of our lives in Christ, because it is very much about discipleship – what it means, and how we do it well.

Several years ago, the renowned theologian Walter Bruggeman spoke in our diocese on the subject of “Becoming Disciples.”  And when he did, he talked about the two big Es of our scripture.  Now, I’ll try my best to do say this as he did, because it was fabulously Bruggeman, but here is what he said, and I want you to imagine he is saying it to you:

“…when Elijah found Elisha, he didn’t say anything to him, he threw his cape over him, he threw his mantle over him.  And that defined his existence.  So, the question that I want you to think about is:

Who threw the mantle over you?

And what did they expect of you?

And…how’re you doing?”

There was a lot of laughter at all of this, and perhaps it is because for anyone who has crossed the proverbial Jordan into a new part of their life journey, we know that the transition across that river is rarely easy, and what we find on the other side is usually not the straight, smooth, and flat path we had hoped, but filled with all sorts of twists and turns.

I want to show you’all this stole.  It was made for me by a classmate at seminary, Theresa Ellis, for my ordination.  Running through it is a river – which is straight in the beginning, and on the straight part is embroided part of the words of the consecration of a priest, But after that, after ordination, the river becomes windy.  It is a visual testimony to what ministry is like.

Now, we priests get a real demonstrative passing of apostilic succession in the laying on of hands.  It is a profoundly moving moment for any priest – a time of what we call “ontological change,” a fancy seminary word for for something that is difficult to explain.  Essentially, as is true of our sacraments, something is conferred upon the priest in that moment. The Roman Catholic catechism puts it this way – “…an indelible spiritual character” which “cannot be “repeated or conferred temporarily”[2]  In other words, you might think of it as a double share of spirit, like Elisha.

But, guess what…in baptism, all of us are changed.  Something happens at that moment that changes us forever.  We are brought into the priesthood of all believers.

That’s right…all of us.  In our own Book of Common Prayer, we have our catechism.  It’s found in the back pages.  And on page 855, it states that the four orders of ministry are: Bishops, Priests, Deacons, and…laity – you guys.  And what is the ministry of the laity according to our faith? “The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”

That’s what you were all consecrated to be and to do at baptism.  And, it may sound like a lot…because it is! And yet it isn’t really about doing, but about being, in a similar way to those wearing collars.  And we never, none of us, do this work alone.  We couldn’t possibly.

In the words of the Trappist monk Thomas Merton, in a letter to a friend, “All the good that you do will come not from you but from the fact that you have allowed yourself, in the obedience of faith, to be used for God’s love. Think of this more and gradually you will be free from the need to prove yourself, and you can be more open to the power that will work through you without your knowing it.[3]  Merton is right.

Perhaps that is why Elisha didn’t ask for power, or authority, but for spirit, and a double share to boot.  Maybe having tagged along with Elijah all that time, Elisha had come to understand that things don’t always go as planned, the road is not always smooth and flat, and sometimes you can feel like you just aren’t able to do it.  And that is why Elisha also learned that it isn’t something we ever do alone.

Elisha understood that if he was to do this work for God, he must have a spirit open to being called, open to hearing God, that he might go where he needed to go, and speak what God would have him say.  Elisha was asking for an openness of heart to know that he didn’t have all the answers, but if he had a right spirit within him, he might be given what was needed for the journey of service to which he was called.

Some of us may be at the beginning of this work, and others nearer the end, as I experienced last weekend, but no matter where we are on the journey, the work is not for ourselves alone, but for all those whom Jesus called on us to serve – the poor, the weak, the marginalized, the lonely, the lost, the oppressed.  It is work that is so very important in this world so torn apart by fear, hatred, violence, and greed.  And if we only ask for a double share of spirit, if we understand that we do not do this work on our own, but God works through us, if we worry less about the outcome, and more about just taking the first step into the river, or on to the path, then we will let go of the outcomes, as Merton implores us, and know that we are good and enough.  We can pick up the mantle.

But there is more.  You see, we are called to be Elijah as much as Elisha.  Bruggeman put it this way in that talk:

“…if you’ve been at this faith business awhile, you are permitted to ask over whom have you thrown a mantle of empowerment and expectation, because the matter of apostolic succession is not just with bishops and priests, but the matter of apostolic succession concerns the whole body of believers and it is a inter-generational thing in which we are always casting the mantle on someone else.”

What Bruggeman is saying, is that this gift is for all of God’s people, and all of us are called to pass it on.  We are called not only to live as servants of Christ in the world, but to help others to do that too.  To accept the mantle, and to wrap it around others.  This mantle thing isn’t just about receiving it, but passing it on.  It isn’t just about priests either.  It is about Elijah.  It is about Jesus.  It’s about you.

Elijah knew he couldn’t take his ministry with him – his cloak would be left behind.  Elijah understood that God’s work could not be contained in a single human being, but was to be passed on to others, so that it continued and would spread long after Elijah was out of sight.  Jesus knew that his work was to empower his disciples, so that long after he was out of their sight, they too could continue to do the work he had charged them to do, to pick up his mantle.

And now, here we are.

This church was a mantle given to us, we then will hand it on to someone else.  Will it be tattered and worn out – and by that I mean not only the buildings, but also the people because not enough of us stepped forward to do the work?  Or, will we all empty ourselves and let Christ in – that we might pick up his mantle, to continue the work of those who came before us, one day throwing it over the shoulder of the ones to follow.

This isn’t about the stones of this church, but about the people in and around it.

This isn’t about perpetuating a faith, but living it.

This isn’t about making everyone Christians, but about being Christian in the world.

And that, my friends, is where each and every one of you comes in, because all of you are part of the priesthood of believers.  All of you have been given a mantle of prophetic witness.  And I gotta ask… “How’re doin?”

“How’re doin?”  And it’s okay if the answer is – I am beat to hell, or lost, or haven’t a clue, or whatever.  That is why we come here – to be nourished, to be fed in the love of community and table, and to be empowered and strengthened for the next step, because the world is in need of the tranformative power of God’s love now more than ever.

The news this week of Brexit, on the heels of the Orlando massacre, are part of rising isolationist calls for shutting doors, and building walls, which are hallmarks of fear – fear that leads to hatred, fear that leads to oppression, fear that leads to violence.

Our work as prophetic witnesses to God’s love as revealed in Jesus is as urgent and important now as it has ever been.  But we do not need to feel overwhelmed.  Remember, all we need is to allow ourselves to be given the gift of a double portion of spirit, which is freely ours, if we only will ask.  And then with our hearts open, to allow Christ to enter into us.

We are being asked to pick up the mantle given to us in baptism, and cross the Jordan.

May God grant us all a double share of spirit, to equip us for the work we are to do in the name of Christ, that all may come to live in love, not fear, peace, and not war.

Amen.

For the audio from the 10:30am service, click here:

[1] Homiletics.com

[2] CCC#1583 RC Catechism.  Oddly enough, I found this description to be one of the best.

[3] Thomas Merton, Trappist monk of the Abbey of Gethsemani, in a February 21, 1966, letter to a friend.

The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 26, 2016
Pentecost 5 – Year C
1st Reading – 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20
2nd Reading – Galatians 5:1,13-25
Gospel – Luke 9:51-62