May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight,
O Lord, our strength and our redeeming. Amen.
The Episcopal Church in Alabama gathers once a year in February for her annual Diocesan Convention.
In recent years, it's been hosted at Camp McDowell, but often it's held in one of our bigger cities,
hosted by the local churches there.
The business of the Convention includes reports given by various diocesan departments and committees,
elections to various offices, budget approval, and the always popular resolution, debate, and vote.
While there haven't been any contentious resolutions as of late,
there was one particular resolution and debate, resolution, debate, and vote,
that still influences how we gather as a Convention all these years later.
The resolution that produced the contentious conversation was directed toward the state legislator,
and habit, we were actually in Montgomery at the time.
Anyway, the resolution was directed or called on the state legislator to make laws for stricter gun control.
Now I have your attention.
The resolution was amended a number of times, and finally there was a draft that added something about advocacy for mental health.
So after the weeping and gnashing of teeth that took place, there was finally a call for a vote.
Now typically at a diocesan Convention when you vote on something it's done in yay or nay fashion,
and you can just hear who won. It's usually not that divided.
But that method did not prove to be effective, so then we were asked to raise our hands
and keep them raised until they were all counted twice.
And when they were all counted twice, they still couldn't figure out who had it, so they made us all stand up.
So everyone literally knew where you stood on the issue, and I honestly have no clue where I stood.
I have no idea if I said yay or nay.
The only reason I remember that the resolution passed is I had to go to the diocesan archives and see.
It passed very narrowly.
But the thing that I will remember most about that day was the weeping and gnashing of teeth,
was how unhappy everyone was after that vote.
Nobody won, not even the victims of gun violence.
I doubt the resolution made really any impact at all at the state legislator.
I do know it made a huge impact on how we do diocesan convention, even up to this day.
In the years to come, the bishop put a moratorium on all resolutions,
except for the ones that dealt with the budget. How exciting.
So over time, that stance has relaxed a little bit, but we still haven't had any hotly contested resolutions.
We were poised to have one this last year, but it mysteriously disappeared from the agenda right before the convention.
Now, again, this is not a sermon on gun control.
This is a sermon that explores the distance between human justice and God's justice
and the consequences when we try to intervene before we're supposed to.
Well, I don't think anyone in that room that day supported gun violence.
It was obvious that we were still trying to figure out the best way to address it, and we weren't there yet.
There was weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Now, I believe that the church should engage in healthy conversations and debate over issues like gun control
or any issue that is contrary to the kingdom of heaven.
I also believe that how we have that conversation and where we have that conversation
is crucial to our witness to the kingdom of heaven.
How can the church, after all, model constructive dialogue in an age of polarization,
in an age where no one listens to each other, in an age where all we get are soundbites?
On the night before Jesus died for us, he told his followers,
they will know you are my followers by your love for each other.
Elsewhere, he said, a house divided cannot stand.
No matter how right we are on an issue or think we are on an issue,
we might jeopardize the whole thing, the whole harvest,
if we weed out what we perceive is wrong before the conversation matures, before the harvest is ready.
Yes, there eventually comes a time when a vote must be made,
when a decision must be made, when the harvest is ready, when the weeds must be pulled.
But we as a society and the church are growing more and more uncomfortable with weeds, or what we think are weeds.
We as a society and a church are even becoming much more opinionated on what a weed is supposed to look like.
If it's not Emerald Zoyzhe, then it must be a weed.
Today, we hear Paul say to the Romans, I consider that the sufferings of this present time
are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed.
He goes on to say, for in hope we are saved.
Paul is writing to a church that is mixed with Jews and Gentiles,
and for much of the history of the early church, the Jews and the Gentiles are suspicious of each other.
They ask some version of the question, are they real followers of Jesus?
Are they imposters? Are they weeds? Are they weeds?
Should we pull them? Should we expel them? Excommunicate them?
And this type of suspicion between groups of Christians has survived well on into the 21st century.
I read recently, I'd rather have religious people get mad at me and my church for loving sinners too much
than be accepted by a whole huddle of self-priced churchgoers who agree on the sins we're against.
The church doesn't simply exist as a safe haven from a dangerous world, that's certainly a part of it,
but the church also exists to gather all kinds of people who are different than us,
all kinds of people who, God forbid, sin differently than we do,
around one table to be reconciled by a love that died for their sins and our sins for the sins of the whole world.
Paul, like Jesus, is encouraging the church to look forward to the harvest and what is to come.
And it is the harvest, it is the hope of what is to come that gives the church the faith to endure suffering,
the grace to sit in the presence of so-called weeds.
Eventually the harvest will choke out the weeds.
Eventually the heat will make the weeds wither away.
And at the harvest, we're going to realize that there aren't nearly as many weeds as we thought there were.
I read recently, your church should rethink its mission if people are more likely to know what you are against than what you are for.
For this sermon, your church should rethink its mission if people are more likely to know what kind of weeds you like to pull
rather than what kind of harvest you want to produce.
The churches you talk about what kind of weeds to pull are planting seeds of fear in a world that is already scared to death.
The churches you talk about what kind of harvest they want to produce are planting seeds of hope
in a world that is desperate to see beyond the nightmare we often live.
Now I know we in the Episcopal Church are far from it, we have plenty of weeds ourselves,
but I am grateful to be a part of a church that talks more about what we are harvesting than about what we are pulling.
I'm grateful to be a part of a church that is planting more seeds of hope than fear.
At the very best, all fear can do is stop us from being wrong.
But it can never make us right. Only Jesus can make us right.
Even more, the hope given in Jesus' death, resurrection, and promised return,
free us now to seek what is good and true and right because we know one day there will be no weeds in the equation.
Only the hope given in Jesus can give us the strength and the faith and the courage to endure the present sufferings,
to endure a world overgrown with weeds because we know that the harvest is plentiful.
Jesus is risen from the dead. Not all the weeds in the world can hide the light of the world.
Now I used to give the bishop hard time about putting a moratorium on potentially contentious resolutions.
I argued that healthy debate was good. It helps us clarify who we are and what we represent.
However, calling for a vote on a resolution like that one did little to nothing to prevent the issue it was trying to prevent.
It did, however, prevent further conversation on how we might be a part of a solution.
I don't think we've talked about it as a church since.
I believe our response to issues like gun control would be more effective if we less,
if we spent less time telling people where we stand and more time inviting people to kneel beside us
and worship a God whose kingdom turns swords into plowshares.
Worship a God in a kingdom where the Lord of all is the servant of all, Jesus Christ,
the one who makes us one through his love for all. Amen.