His Call

Texts: Acts 10:44-48; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17 I was listening on Friday morning to an interview with the former head of the Anglican Church in Scotland – the Episcopalian Church, as the Scots call it – Archbishop Richard Holloway.  The Archbishop has become something of a John Spong or Lloyd Geering figure in his later years, and has incurred some of the same criticism as those two often attract in some quarters.  And for much the same reasons. Archbishop Holloway stood down from his position – took early retirement, in lay terms – in 2000, and he explained that one of the major reasons for this was his disillusionment with the Anglican Bishops at Lambeth 1998, when his fellow bishops took a hard stand against homosexual relationships.  He felt their stance was a denial of the gospel of absolute unconditional love, inclusiveness, and fundamental human rights.  It is, he said, an issue of social justice, and he couldn't stomach the denial of such values by the majority of his fellow bishops any longer.  He said one more thing of considerable interest to me: he said we must always try to keep religion out of ethics. And then he quoted from the Scriptures, and, in particular, from today's gospel passage.  He said Jesus called his followers his friends, and commanded us to love one another.  Presumably, he doesn't think the new commandment is an example of religious ethics or ethical religion!  But leaving that aside, he didn't address the half-verse in this passage that I want to look at this morning.  According to St John, Jesus said this: You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last.  What's all this about and how does it relate to the Archbishop's views? The first thing to notice with a passage like this is the identity of the audience.  To whom is Jesus speaking?  Sometimes his teaching is directed to the crowds, the world at large.  Sometimes he is talking to his opponents, arguing with them, usually.  Sometimes his teaching seems addressed to all who believe in him; and sometimes, as on this occasion, he is talking to his hand-picked band of 12 disciples – later to be called the Apostles.  Here he is teaching those who (with the exception of Judas and with the addition in his place of Matthias) will be the foundation leaders and teachers in the Church. And he says to them, "Remember, it's my call.  You did not volunteer, or apply, to join my leadership team, I picked you.  You had to agree, you had to accept my call and respond to it; but it was and always is my call."  Leadership in the Church is not something we seek for ourselves, not something we apply for.  Ordination is not a human right; it is not ours to demand; and it is not ours to confer on others.  In chapter 5 of the Letter to the Hebrews, the author talks about the office of the high priest, and says this: No one takes this honour upon himself: he must be called by God, just as Aaron was.  If you look through the ordinal (the form of service for the ordination of priests begins on page 898 of the Prayer Book) you will see this idea of being called by God all the way through the service.  And if you look a little earlier in the Book of Acts you will see a practical example of this same principle. The remaining eleven apostles decided that they were required by Scripture to find a replacement for Judas, to bring their number back up to 12.  So they prepared a short list (a very short list!), and then prayed, asking God to show them which of the two he was choosing.  God chose Matthias, instead of Joseph Barsabbas; and there's a rather poignant note in the NIV Study Bible to the effect that no more is heard of the "defeated" candidate.  That underlines for me how difficult these decisions are, and how important it is for us to remember whose call it is. Here are two stories from my own experience.  First, a man in a parish in which I was ministering wanted to be ordained, wanted to be a priest.  He was a good man of deep faith, but I did not believe he was being called by God to the priesthood, and I dreaded having to say so.  As it happened, he sent in his application while I was on leave, and process started without my comments being sought.  Along the way, various people ducked the issue; they didn't want to be the one who turned him down, because he was a thoroughly good person. Finally, he arrived at what was known as the "Selection Conference", where all the candidates were assessed over 3 days by a team of 5, who then advised the Bishop.  In this case, all five advised the Bishop against ordaining this man: they did not believe that he was being called to the priesthood.  Within 12 months he left the Anglican Church, and, at his own expense, undertook a two-year training course for ministers in another denomination.  At the end of that training he was again turned down for ordination in that denomination.  Very sad, very hurtful, and we might have all been wrong.  But if we believe that priests are called by God, then in each case that is the only issue the Church should be grappling with.  It is not a question of social justice or human rights; and it is not a question of rewarding good and faithful service to the Church. Here's the second story.  It concerns a congregation in the Diocese of Waikato who had decided to adopt local shared ministry.  Instead of a Vicar, they had a ministry team; and within that team different people were called to different ministries.  Two were priests, one was an administrator, two were liturgists, and so.  How was the team chosen, and the ministries distributed between them?  By the Bishop?  No.  By the congregation?  In one sense, yes, but in a very important sense, no.  The congregation met together for prayer; and only after a prolonged period of prayer were they invited to write down the names of those whom they felt were being called by God to be in the ministry team, and to indicate the ministry to which they thought that person was being called. Think about that for a moment.  This was a small congregation, and many of the members had known each other for years.  They had the full range of human strengths, foibles, and failings.  There were some who made no secret of their wishes and ambitions; and it would have been very easy for that congregation to opt for a quiet life and give everyone their heart's desires.  But that's not how it worked out in practice.  Prayer changed things.  They made decisions that one or two could not accept; but they made them for the right reason.  They believed they were accepting God's choices. I have rather laboured all this because it is possible that this congregation in the not too distant future may be called upon to be involved in decisions of this kind.  With the increasing difficulty in finding and affording stipendiary clergy, more and more congregations may have to look among its own membership for priests and other leaders.  You have been warned!  But you have also been advised – let the Scriptures be your guide, and prayer your method of choice. I want to finish with our first lesson this morning, and return to the views of Archbishop Richard Holloway.  In our lifetime, the Anglican Church has faced two huge issues relating to ministry.  First, there was the question of the ordination of women; and even today there are some areas of the Church that grizzle about that, and certainly chafe at the thought of women bishops.  However, at least in this country, that issue has been settled.  But now we are having similar angst over the ordination of gays.  Both those issues seem to us to be of huge importance – unless we know our history and our Scriptures. Read the Book of Acts, and we will see that our issues pale into insignificance compared to the one that faced the early Church.  For faithful Jews it was simply unthinkable that Gentiles could be admitted to the Church as Gentiles; surely, they would have to be circumcised, surely they would have to comply with the dietary code and all the rest of it?  That was certainly Peter's view at the beginning.  Until he saw that God had an entirely different view.  Today we find him saying to the Jewish converts, who "were astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles", "Can anyone keep these people from being baptised with water?  They have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?" If only the Church would remember its own Scriptures, instead of rabbiting on about the Human Rights Act, we would be spared all the angst over the ordination of women and the ordination of gays.  If the call is always God's, who are we to exclude anybody from being called? The irony is that Archbishop Holloway was right on the substance of the issue; but because he turned away from the Scriptures and based his argument on purely secular grounds of human rights and social justice, he found himself leaving the Church, and abandoning his own calling. Abide in me, says Jesus, and I will abide in you.  Alleluia! Amen!