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Sermon preached
at Bradford Cathedral
July 6th 2008 7th of Trinity Romans 7: 15-25a; Matthew 11: 16-19, 25-30 |
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I can't imagine that archbishop Rowan, during these particular weeks, will be finding the yoke that he bears easy or his burden light. He will come to us next Tuesday and Wednesday hotfoot from General Synod where the contentious issue of women bishops is currently being debated-and from us he turns his sights on the Lambeth conference at the end of the month, when he has to find a way through the multiple fissures that are cracking up our Anglican global communion. That's no easy yoke, no light burden. The attacks on him have often been personal too: that he is a woolly liberal whom no one can understand; that he is hypocritical because he has friends who are ordained and gay, and yet has prevented Bishop Gene Robinson from attending Lambeth. That he has no moral leadership: his leadership has been directly challenged by those attending the recent Gafcon conference in Jerusalem, from which has emerged a declaration, a new test of orthodoxy for confessing Anglicans, and a new grouping of Primates, led by the archbishops of Nigeria and Sydney, which offers a locus of power for those disaffected with the historic roots at Canterbury. A tough global scene, and at home a church where many feel ready for the next step towards women bishops, but where a vociferous minority call for alternative Episcopal oversight and structures to protect them from the ministry of a female bishop. But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market-places and calling to one another: we played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed and you did not mourn. The greatest tragedy is that Archbishop Rowan is perhaps the finest theologian and the archbishop with the most profound spirituality that the church has had for centuries. And instead of receiving the leadership that he is gifted to give, the Anglican church both at home and globally is demanding of him that he square circles. That he reconcile the irreconcilable. That he hold everyone on board for the sake of the unity of the Church when some are choosing or threatening to leave. This is leadership that looks weak, looks like failure. Certainly that's how it's portrayed in the media. Like the children sitting in the market place, there are many agenda around. Many calls to Archbishop Rowan to represent this or that position, to espouse this or that cause. He may have-he does-have his own opinions, but he also represents an office, a public role-and that's more important. The future direction and vision of the church is at stake under his leadership. That's a hard and heavy burden. In the academic and professional world, there's more written about leadership than almost anything else at the moment. Inspiring leadership; heroic leadership; strategic leadership; leadership from above, leadership from below. Soft or hard leadership. It's all there. Techniques and strategies to bring out the best in your company, your organisation. But I suspect much of the literature wouldn't be of any help to Rowan. His position of leadership is unique in its lack of any effective power: he can't insist on anything, he can't make another archbishop or province in the Anglican communion do anything; his authority is empty in that respect. You could say that it is his unique role to be at the centre of a vacuum of power. It's a paradoxical thing that we
pray, as we do in our collect this morning, to a Lord of all power and
might. So many of the words we use of God, and of Jesus, ascribe to him
greatness, omnipotence, majesty, dominion and power. Power. And yet the
crux of Jesus' earthly ministry was when he stood before Pilate, emptied
of all but himself, about to be stripped, refusing to argue or defend
himself. This is the Lord of all power and might. This pathetic-in the
true sense of full of passion and suffering-this pathetic man held in
his being all the true glory of God revealed to humanity. He revealed
at that moment a God who does not lord it over people, but empties himself,
making himself vulnerable, at one with all the brokenness of the world.
It is a paradox of power that Jesus Christ gives us. His refusal to embrace
violence, or to respond to suffering by fighting back gives us a radically
different understanding of power to the ways the world-and yet we still
use the word. Power. For Archbishop Rowan it's a hard call-when to speak out; when to remain silent-how to lead the Anglican Communion; how to deal with the media. He doesn't always get it right, as we saw with the debate about what he said and didn't say about sharia law-and interestingly this week the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Philips said very much the same thing without causing any brick bats to fly. It's a lesson in leadership; a lesson
to us all about how we reveal Christ to the world through our own leadership-whether
it be in our family situations, or at work, or wherever. Sometimes it's
not easy to discern when we should speak out with boldness, or remain
quiet and listen. When we should take the flak passively, or fight back.
When we should encourage, or be directive. As archbishop Rowan comes to us this week, inbetween two heavy gatherings, may he know of our prayers and support, our love and appreciation for him; our recognition of the Christ-like role he cannot but fulfil. May he know through our ministry to him that Jesus says to him 'Come, you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, come and I will give you rest. Come for I am gentle and humble in heart. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. A prayer for discernment:
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