Bishop Benfield’s Convention Sermon

Diocesan Convention, 17 Feb 2023
Mark 12:28-34
Trinity Cathedral, Little Rock

Kevin Stroud is an attorney. He says that he spends most of his days parsing the English language in the preparation of contracts, wills, and trust agreements. But that is not what he is famous for doing. His claim to fame is his podcast, called “The History of English Podcast,” which he began in 2012, and that now has over 160 episodes online. It is an effort to show the development and changes in the English language from its earliest days until more recently. The series is extremely detailed. Let’s simply say that episode 41 finally gets us up to the tenth century.

The amazing part of the podcast is its examination of the changes in pronunciation and meaning of words through the centuries. Here is one example relevant to us Episcopalians: “episcopos,” the Greek word brought into English whose pronunciation in English gradually changed through the centuries to “bishop,” believe it or not. A lot can happen in a thousand years. As for the meaning, today we would say that “episcopal” means something slightly different than “bishop.” If you want something more contemporary, look at all those words ending in “g”, as in, “doing” becoming “doin’” or “beginning” becoming “beginnin’.” At some point people will start spelling them the way we pronounce them. And then the words—and most likely their meaning—will have changed.

I was reminded of Kevin Stroud’s focus on how the meaning of words changes as I read the footnotes that Suzanne Henderson, a professor of religion, wrote in her comments in the Common English Bible regarding this evening’s text from the gospel of Mark. In that passage, Jesus names the love of neighbor as the second great commandment. That commandment is in the book of Leviticus, and it was referenced not only by Jesus, but also in the letter to the Romans, the letter to the Galatians, and the letter of James, references made as Christianity was forming. What Suzanne Henderson wrote in her footnote that I am about to share with you is a chilling reminder that, for all our talk about the bedrock continuity of the church, the meaning of the word “Christians” is subject to change. Here is what she wrote: “Early Christians generally thought that one couldn’t love God without loving others.” As someone who listens carefully to words and desires precision, I was gobsmacked. In describing what it means to be called Christian, she put “early” in front of “Christians” and used the past tense, “thought,” rather than the current tense, “think.” Early Christians thought that one could not love God without loving others, as opposed to saying that Christians think that one cannot love God without loving others. Apparently, what it means to be a Christian has changed in the intervening two thousand years from Christianity’s inception until now. Kevin Stroud could have a field day with a podcast devoted to this change in meaning.

In the eyes of so many people today, religious belief has no currency, or is seen as having primarily a political dimension. I am talking not only about the people we tend to call right-wing evangelicals (the word “evangelical” itself having been corrupted), but I will include doctrinaire liberals as well. Religion used for an ulterior motive. Some days it is a bit embarrassing to say that I work for the church; I wonder what people who say, “Hey, preacher,” think about me and my beliefs. From experience, I know that some of them have no interest in asking, and the general opinion about religion has led to some people distancing themselves from me.

As for what I think, well, I am now in my sixties, and in my many years I have a had a lot of time to think about what it means to be a Christian, about what is important in life and what is not so important, and why I have devoted so much of my life to religious belief. I have given religion much time and a fair amount of money and some professional abilities that I might have used elsewhere. This commitment has had significant personal costs.

It is becoming clearer to me that what I ultimately desire is to finish this life at peace, at peace both with myself and with others. Peace does not come from selfishness because selfishness says that what we need is always a little more than what we have. A peaceful arrival at the finish line will only come as the result of selflessness, that is, a life lived with compassion. Authentic religion is not focused on some future divide between heaven and hell, or in overpowering the opposition in the next round of elections, but rather is focused on loving one’s neighbor as one’s own self. To be compassionate. As Jesus said in our lesson, such love ends up putting us not far from the kingdom of God, and that is where I want to be. My faith is not about Jesus and me. I have no place in my life for a Christianity that divorces the love of God from the love of others. Such a way of existing destroys people and shatters civilized society. I have infinite space in my life, though, for a Christianity that continues to believe that one cannot love God without loving others. This way to live called Christianity, with resurrection as its core belief, is about the living body of Christ and our relationship with it, a body that is as large as humanity itself.

I am not focused on what happens after death. Julian of Norwich is my hero when she simply states that all will be well. In looking to the future, I can neither ask for, nor promise more, nor claim anything more than that assertion. It is as honest a sermon about the future as this preacher can offer.

But I remain very focused on the holy city of God, that city about which we sang only minutes ago. If you paid attention to the words, you would remember that we sang that it is a place where there is no need or pain, where tears are wiped from eyes, but where such lives are hindered by greed for gain made possible by wringing gold from human pain. That wringing of gold from human pain is exactly what a world looks like where there is no compassion, where one-upmanship, where greed is the name of the game. I do not want to die complicit in such a non-compassionate existence. For me, to die that way would indeed be hell. Thus, a need to be bound to religious belief and practice.

To live with compassion, to be a participant in what it is like for tears to be replaced with joy, for hatred to be replaced with welcoming arms, is our best hope to see the city of God, or as Jesus calls it, the kingdom of God. It can happen no matter what goes on in this broken world around us. For thousands of years governments, political leaders, and all sorts of messiahs and economic theorists have failed us, and they will continue to do so. Never assume that the arc of the universe keeps bending toward justice. History repeatedly proves otherwise.

But we authentically religious people stand in each generation with a different message than that of the secular world. Look at what those early Christians said theologically: Through Incarnation and Resurrection, (or what if we want to talk in terms that people on the street can perhaps better understand: through Christmas and Easter) we are making a statement about the holiness of flesh and blood humanity. Love comes down at Christmas; love rises from death. Love of others, love of flesh and blood humanity, is the way we love God. I want to be near to and a part of that sort of kingdom, and so I am willing to immerse myself in this religion we call Christianity, and I invite everyone else to do so as well. It’s healthy.

To put it simply, it is why we go to church: it is where we learn how to love. It is why we cease holding on to our money for dear life: it is how we learn how to love. It is why we do not treat anyone with contempt: it is where we learn how to love. It is the reason that the church has called us to gather in this place at this time. There is no greater agenda for the authentically religious. You see, when we will have finally learned how to love, when we finally learn compassion, we will be standing on the edge of the kingdom of God, just as Jesus assures us. I can think of no other place I would rather be, and no other place I would rather everyone else be as well. Amen.