The Anglican Catholic Church

Sermons for Special Occasions

The Most Rev. John T. Cahoon, Jr.
Metropolitan, Anglican Catholic Church
Archbishop Ordinary, Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States
Rector, St. Andrew and St. Margaret of Scotland Anglican Catholic Church Alexandria, Virginia

bullet Funeral Homily for Kenneth D. Smith, July 7, 2001

bullet Funeral Homily for The Rt. Rev. William DeJ. Rutherfoord, March 13, 2001

bullet Consecration of The Rt. Rev. Rommie M. Starks, Bishop of the Midwest, October 14, 2000

bullet Celebration of Holy Cross Day, September 12, 2000

bullet Ordination to the Priesthood of  Mr. C. Thomas McHenry, Jr., June 10, 2000.

bullet Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States Synod 2000

bullet Solemnization of Matrimony -- Fr. Chad Jones and Megan Baskwill, May 13, 2000

bullet Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States Synod 1999

bullet Pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham, 1999

bullet Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States Synod 1997

bullet Diaconal Ordination of Mr. Anthony Huston Sgro, June 14, 1997

Homily by the Most Rev. John T. Cahoon, Jr., Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Original Province, ACC, at the Requiem Mass of Kenneth D. Smith, July 7, 2001

St. Paul begins today's epistle selection with these words, "I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope." He means, "I don't want you to be stupid about the state of the dead. If you are ignorant about them then you will run the danger of feeling sorry for them, as if you had no hope."

Christians do not have to be ignorant about the dead, so we have no reason to be sorry about where they are or where they are going to be. We would have to be sorry about the dead if we had nothing about which to be hopeful. But we do have hope, and the hope we have is what gives us the comfort and strength that helps us face what has happened. Jesus is going to come back here to get us and take us to heaven together.

That hope does not answer the inevitable question, "Why do some people live a long time -- often people who don't really seem to deserve it and others whose lives appear eminently worthwhile die before what seems to be their time?"

The fallacy there is to presume that we can know what is the right length of time for a person to live. The psalms say a normal life lasts seventy years. If a person does not get his three-score years and ten, we have some sort of right to feel cheated.

But we feel cheated because we don't have the person's company any more. If we feel sorry because we didn't get more time with him, then we are showing a lack of gratitude for the time we did get. The person we miss isn't being cheated at all. He is at rest in the Lord. The hope we have is that at the end God will bring us all back together again.

I was tempted to get up here today and say ,"I just don't know why this has happened. I am not going to pretend that I do. I wish Ken were not dead." But I really cannot bring myself to doubt the wisdom of God in what he has done. I have seen God do quite a few things which I consider weird or which defy explanation, but which have turned out to make complete sense.

One of the major differences between God and me is that he sees all of history -- from Adam and Eve to the return of Jesus -- as one continuous and simultaneous event. He is not limited -- as we are -- to seeing each thing that happens as a separate bead on a string. God sees it all at once.

St. Paul promises us that at the end we shall be able to see exactly what God has seen all along. We shall see everything -- each happy event, each tragedy, each mundane and daily and unremarkable happening -- as something that has contributed positively to getting us where we will be at the end.

God does not promise us that everything he does will make immediate sense. He does promise us that at the end we shall be able to see that it all has made sense. Living in the tension between long-range trust and immediate uncertainty is what Christian faith is. Christian faith means acknowledging that God is in control, and that it is better to have him in control than to have me in control, painful as it may be to admit it.

A couple of weeks ago, after he had got the final diagnosis, Kenneth asked me if it were ok to keep on fighting and praying for healing even though the outcome appeared inevitable.

He answered the question by asking it. He had nothing to lose by resisting the dying of the light, because he was completely confident that God knew exactly what he was doing no matter how it might turn out.

Farewell, dear friend. I am looking forward to seeing you again. Your example is going to help me get there.


Homily by the Most Rev. John T. Cahoon, Jr., Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Original Province, ACC, at the Pontifical Requiem Mass of The Right Reverend William DeJarnette Rutherfoord, Bishop Emeritus of the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States and Rector Emeritus of St. Thomas of Canterbury Anglican Catholic Church, Roanoke, Virginia.

When St. Paul sets out to explain Holy Communion to his church at Corinth, he begins what he has to say this way, "I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you." I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you. What he means is, "What I am going to tell you is not something I made up myself, or something that came to me out of thin air. It is what I got from somebody else --in this case, from Jesus Christ himself. I got it from him and I am passing it on to you.

The life of the Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church is a process of getting it from someone else and then passing it on. That is the literal sense of the word "tradition." "Tradition" means handing it over, passing it along.

We are all too close in time and too close in emotion to make any kind of full evaluation of Bishop Rutherfoord's life and its impact upon us. We will get better at that as time goes on, but we are going to understand fully how God used him in our lives only when we see everything clearly at the end of time -- no more through a glass, darkly, but face to face.

I do want to suggest to you that one way to look at Bishop Rutherfoord's life is to see him as a traditioner, as it were -- a man who received from the past and passed what he received from the past ahead to the future. He was not necessarily one who originated or one who concluded, but, instead, one who handed on -- a conscious and willing link in the chain through which God connects the past to the future. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time.

Bishop Rutherfoord was an artist, a craftsman, a maker of beautiful and spiritually arresting things. In that way he reflected God the Father -- who is himself an artist, a craftsman, a maker of beautiful and spiritually arresting things. Bishop Rutherfoord's art drew upon the great traditions of both East and West. He has left us some striking things to gaze upon. His gift lives on quite literally in the phenomenal talent of his son and namesake. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time.

Bishop Rutherfoord was a Virginian, and a patrician Virginian at that. He was the very image of the great tradition of Virginia's aristocratic and gentlemanly Episcopalianism and episcopacy. From the time I was a little boy, my picture of what a bishop looked like was Beverley Dandridge Tucker, descendant of George Washington, Rector of St. Paul's in Richmond, and Bishop of Ohio. It seemed to me that Bishop Rutherfoord was just like Bishop Tucker. I don't want to believe that that line has died with him. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time.

God called Bishop Rutherfoord later in his life to be a priest and a pastor. He went to seminary just as the Episcopal Church was starting to cut itself off from its great tradition. But Bishop Rutherfoord was already steeped in the great tradition, and he had no intention of giving it up.

When the Episcopal Church was no longer a place one could shepherd souls in the great tradition, he continued his pastoral ministry in the Anglican Catholic Church, where one can shepherd souls in the great tradition of Anglicanism.

His pastoral ministry lives on in the parish of St. Thomas of Canterbury, which he founded and led for so many years. The most compelling testimony to what Bishop Rutherfoord accomplished here is that the parish continues to live and to grow. What he received he passed on, and the parish lives to pass it on to others. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time.

We most often think literally about the chain of time through our idea of Apostolic Succession. In our bishops we have a tangible connection to the whole church -- not just to the apostles who were the first bishops, but to all of the bishops at all times and in all places. Bishop Rutherfoord took his place in the apostolic chain. God used him to establish the most viable and successful diocese in continuing Anglicanism.

Bishop Rutherfoord wanted the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States to survive him. He took pains to see to it that it was provided with a stable structure and with continuing leadership. The most compelling testimony to what Bishop Rutherfoord accomplished in the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States is that it continues to live and to grow. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time.

As Bishop Rutherfoord was on his way into the next world last Friday evening, the chains in which he was a link were all there at his bedside to say farewell. Members of his family were there, two brilliant artists were there, his beloved wife and helpmeet was there, his successor as Rector of St. Thomas of Canterbury was there; I, his successor as Bishop of the Mid-Atlantic States, was there.

We represented all the links in the chains that connect us to the past through Bishop Rutherfoord. His life calls all of us to hook ourselves up to the past and link ourselves to the future. Bishop Rutherfoord was a link in the great chain of time. "I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you."


Archbishop Cahoon preached the following sermon at the consecration October 14 of the Rt. Rev. Rommie M. Starks as the fourth Bishop of the Midwest.

In January I shall have been a bishop of the Church for 15 years. For a variety of reasons -- the good, the bad and the ugly -- this is only the second episcopal consecration in which I have taken part. Father Starks was intimately involved in the other one, too. He was one of my attending presbyters at Bishop Haverland's magnificent consecration in Athens, Georgia in the winter of 1998.

One of my most vivid memories of that day is looking at Father Starks at one point and saying, "Well, it's almost over." He looked at me with that combination of sternness and puckishness which is uniquely his, and said, "I think, in fact, that it is really only about half over." He was right.

The Scripture readings and all the rest of the Prayer Book consecration service and everything else we know from example and word of mouth tell us what a bishop is supposed to be and what a bishop is supposed to do.

The bishop incarnates the unity of the Church. The bishop represents the wider church to his diocese. The bishop is the diocese's chief pastor and teacher. The bishop is the successor to the original apostles and to the most recent apostles and to all of the other apostles in between. The bishop can only do those things if he loves the Church as St. Edward the Confessor did. Christ sums it all up, "Feed my lambs. Feed my sheep."

I do not have the knack for compartmentalization that would allow me to separate neatly my responsibilities as archbishop, as diocesan bishop, and as parish priest. But as nearly as I can figure it out, one of my main responsibilities as a diocesan bishop is to be a personnel man -- or, as our politically correct and euphemistic corporate culture now puts it -- a human resources man.

On All Saints' Day I will celebrate the 23rd anniversary of my departure from the Episcopal Church. I think I thought then that by the year 2000 we would have hundreds of thousands of members, and the Episcopal Church would be but a memory.

It hasn't quite turned out that way, of course. The Episcopal Church that we knew is indeed a memory, but the hundreds of thousands of members that have left it have by no means all come to us. That supports one of the premises of my take on pastoral theology. I believe every Episcopalian and Anglican is looking for a good reason not to go to church. Our responsibility is not to give him one.

Put more positively, I will say that over these 23 years every time the Church has been able to put a good man in place in a supportive parish, the parish has thrived. That should not surprise us. When God set out to save the world, he sent a personality to do it.

What a bishop in the Anglican Catholic Church has to do in this era of our history is to look for capable and attractive men who are committed to Jesus and called to Holy Orders; see to it that they are trained properly; and then get them into parishes which will pay them a living wage and take their ministry seriously; and then let the Holy Ghost do the rest.

The work of the ACC rests primarily on the backs of the parish clergy. We need to recruit and educate good men, and we need to teach their people to take care of them materially and spiritually. How shall they preach except they be sent? Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest that he will send laborers into his harvest.

Rommie, my dear friend, I know there is a level of your being at which you wish all this need never have happened. When Bishop Deyman died, God himself had to ask the same question he asked in the temple 2800 years ago as the prophet Isaiah stood by and listened and watched. God asked, "Whom shall we send, and who will go for us?" By the will of the Holy Spirit expressed by the clergy and lay people of this diocese and confirmed by the rest of the Church, the finger of God has quite clearly been pointed at you.

Isaiah replied just as you have been tempted to reply, "Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips." But Isaiah ended up saying what, laying aside absolutely all other considerations, you now must say, "Here am I, Lord; send me."


Archbishop John's Remarks on Holy Cross, at Saint Alban's, Richmond, Viriginia, September 12, 2000

There are two places in St. John's Gospel where Jesus predicts, a bit obliquely, the sort of death he is going to die. In tonight's gospel, from Chapter 12, he says, "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." He says that early enough in his ministry that people might still think he is talking about being lifted up in triumph—perhaps on a throne, or on the back of a large white horse.

In Chapter 3, after he talks with Nicodemus about being born again, Jesus connects his coming death to a weird event that took place during Israel's wandering in the wilderness. The people are being bitten by snakes, and Moses asks God what he should do about it. God tells Moses to make a replica of a snake out of brass, and hold it up on a pole so people can look at it. Everyone who looked at the snake on the stick was cured of snakebite.

Jesus says, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life."

Here again we have a play on the idea of being lifted up. Jesus knows he will live out the supreme irony of winning his eternal victory by dying—and that he will be lifted up not on a throne, but on a crude instrument of torture and capital punishment.

We are here tonight to anticipate Holy Cross Day, or, more properly, the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, which comes up this Thursday, September 14. In earlier days in the Church of England, this feast was called "Holy Rood Day," since "rood" means "cross." So it is especially nice to be at St. Alban's to celebrate this feast with you, because you are the host parish of our church's seminary, called Holyrood.

This feast arises out of the rather curious history of the True Cross—the Real Rood—the actual pieces of wood on which Jesus was lifted up to die on the first Good Friday.

The True Cross was recovered—or discovered for the church-- in 326 A.D. The person who discovered it was St. Helena, who was the mother of Constantine the Great. Constantine the Great was the emperor who made Christianity legal in the Roman world. St. Helena's father was King Cole of Colchester who, as we know, was a merry old soul.

Helena made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in the mid-320s. She discovered that the True Cross had been tossed into a ditch near a temple dedicated to Venus, the Goddess of Love, and then covered up with dirt—so she demanded that it be dug up.

When the cross was unearthed, according to the story, it healed a sick woman immediately and then raised a man from death. St. Helena thereupon ordered that a basilica be built on the site.

The church, which was finished in 335, contained not only the True Cross, but also the real nails from the crucifixion. Later on, two of the nails were placed in Constantine's imperial crown, one turned up later in the crown of Charlemagne, and one was thrown into the Adriatic to calm a storm. The custom of raising up, or exalting, the True Cross in a public ceremony began in 338—on September 14, as far as we know.

The cross is the center of the Christian religion. That would be true, of course, even if St. Helena had never found the original. It was on the cross of Calvary that Jesus offered himself as "a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world."

It is by the cross—or, more properly, by what happened on the cross-- that we have our sins forgiven, and we become reconciled to God.

We place crosses at the center and on the tops of our churches; we wear crosses around our necks; we lead our processions with crosses; we seal the newly-baptized with the sign of the cross; we make the sign of the cross on our own bodies to show we agree with teaching and to underline our enthusiastic response to sacramental grace.

When we look at Jesus lifted up on the cross, we are cured of the snakebite of sin, and we see that the sentence of eternal death we deserve is taken away.

So to echo St. Paul, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." A blessed and Happy Holy Rood Day!


Archbishop John's Remarks at the Ordination to the Sacred Order of Priesthood of Mr. C. Thomas McHenry, Jr., June 10, 2000

Some years before I became a bishop I went out to dinner with a married couple who were good friends of mine. The husband thought he might have a vocation to the ministry, and one of the purposes of our getting together was to begin to try to sort that question out.

The dinner came during the height of the popularity of the t.v. program "Dallas," to which I was pretty much addicted. I really cared who shot JR, and I was ecstatic when Elvis's widow joined the cast. In any event, the wife in the couple was as big a "Dallas" fan as I was, and when she and I began to carry on about what had happened on the previous Friday evening's episode, the husband broke in and said, rather impatiently, "I've always hated soap operas." I shot back, "Then you probably don't have a vocation to the priesthood after all."

The revealed word of God is a series of soap operas. We might call the Old Testament "One Man's Family"—the bizarre saga of how a group of wandering shepherds and their offspring survived rape, incest, exogamy, witchcraft, alcohol abuse, adultery, and murder to become the family into which the Son of God would be born.

The New Testament brings us the picaresque tale of a wandering rabbi who forges a group of ignorant misfits into an organization which conquers the world. There seems to be less that is obviously soap operatic about the New Testament, until you consider that behind it all is the story of an extremely long-suffering man who is desperately in love—a man who gives up everything he has to take a long journey into a far country to win back his beloved bride who has fallen into adultery and debauchery of every kind.

A good priest knows that everyone's life is a soap opera—his own included—and he enters into his parishioners' individual and collective soap operas because he loves them and because he has something to offer them. He does not offer them an end to their soap operas, he offers them something better than that. He offers them the opportunity to see that their individual soap operas are little dramas about the possibility of salvation and redemption that have been scripted and directed by God Almighty himself.

Through looking at the soap operas as they really play out, and by mixing into them the Word of God and the Sacraments of the Church, the priest plays a central role in God's saving activity.

God's saving activity encompasses real life and real death and real suffering and real joy. We need our priests. We love the priests whom we see loving us. They bring us Jesus, who came into the real soap opera world and died to save it, and lives again for it.

Deacon Charles Thomas, today may be indeed the Eve of Pentecost, but it is also the 954th birthday of St. Margaret of Scotland. Your own vocation was nurtured in a parish which bears her name. I know that is true, because I watched it happen.

St. Margaret's life was a royal soap opera. It featured illiteracy, exile, treachery, and murder. She was able to endure all of it, because she read her Bible, and she said her prayers, and she took care of poor people. You could do far worse in your priesthood than to emulate her in all those specific activities—read your Bible, say your prayers, and take care of poor people.

St. Margaret had a deep and abiding sense of who she was: a wife, a mother, a queen, and a Christian, and she did her duty in those states of life into which it pleased God to call her.

In the midst of the soap operas into which you shall now enter, dear Deacon Tom, please keep a deep and abiding sense of who you are, too, and do your duty accordingly: you are a Messenger, a Watchman, and a Steward of the Lord, a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek.


DMAS Synod, Year 2000  In June 2000 Archbishop Cahoon delivered this message at the Diocesan Synod for Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States.

We learned at this morning's celebration that today is the feast of St. Columba, abbot of Iona and evangelist of Scotland. I have a bit of a personal stake in St. Columba. The first records of my Scottish clan place my ancestors in the service of St. Kessog. Kessog was a disciple of Columba, and he planted a monastic foundation around Loch Lomond. The crozier I carry to symbolize my office of bishop is a genuine shepherd's crook from the Loch Lomond area — a further, if somewhat indirect, connection between St. Columba and our own church.

The Latin word "Columba," like the Hebrew word "Jonah," means "dove." That proved to be a rather ironic name for our saint. He was known to have instigated at least one bloody battle, and a biographer wrote of him, "Of all qualities, gentleness was precisely the one in which Columba failed the most."

If that fact did not qualify him to be a patron of the Continuing Church, his ethnic confusion probably would. Butler's Lives of the Saints begins his entry by saying, "The most famous of Scottish saints, Columba, was actually an Irishman."

Has this been a good year for the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States? I would have to say, "Yes, it has been." Shortly after the last Provincial Synod I wrote to Bishop and Mrs. Rutherfoord. I told them that I believed my election as Archbishop was in fact a way of honoring our diocese — of the ACC's acknowledging finally that the stable foundation Bishop Rutherfoord and others established here twenty years ago was in fact the proper model not only of how to run a diocese, but also of how to guarantee that a diocese survives. We should all be grateful.

It seems to me that in every parish I visit I confirm and receive more new members than I did the last time I was there. Parishes which were once content with part-time clergy are moving toward full-time ministries. Previously troubled parishes are settling down. Parishes which were satisfied with renting are now buying and building. Growing parishes are looking toward bigger buildings.

Our diocese-wide activities continue to flourish. We give thanks to God for the stewardship of Fr. Blair, and Fr. McClean, and Fr. Smith and others over our summer youth camp in past years. We also look forward to the new youth camp ministries of Fr. Jones and Fr. Gardner. The pre-Advent retreat, the Day of Witness, and the choir festival all continue to be great successes, and our annual synods are havens of blessing and of peace — at least they have been so far.

We have some fine men studying for the ministry of the church. They are the hope of our future together. I am grateful to St. Thomas of Canterbury in Roanoke for sponsoring the diaconal internship of Deacon Thomas McHenry. I shall be happy if no man is ever again ordained priest in this diocese who has not had an experience similar to the one which St. Thomas and Fr. Gardner have provided for Deacon Tom.

I am thankful that St. Francis in Blacksburg is providing a summer internship for our postulant Will Cohen. May there be many more such opportunities for our students. The whole province will before long be grateful to Fr. Barr and Fr. Blair who are taking the leadership in establishing Holyrood- Richmond.

Early in Lent I sent out an appeal for money for the Anglican Advance Fund. The fund helps pay to maintain the Provincial office in Alexandria, provides money for the travel expenses of our non-USA bishops, and defrays our legal costs.

The appeal, quite frankly, did not do very well. As I have traveled around the province in the past several weeks, I have come to the conclusion that there are other reasons for its not doing well besides the usual solicitation fatigue. There are people who seem to believe that our legal troubles are over or nearly over. Believe me, they are not.

Our parishes and our bishops and provincial officers have been dragged into court by people who are hostile to us and to what we stand for. We have yet to lose anything substantial in any trial court, but the provision in our system for seemingly endless appeals makes us vulnerable to being starved out by what is contained in the very deep pockets the other side seems to possess.

Others have suggested to me that being involved in these legal cases is somehow a frivolous indulgence in the sort of petty squabbling which seems to be pandemic in the Continuing Church. I reject that idea entirely. We are only defending what is rightfully ours.

When I visited the synod of the Diocese of the Resurrection last month, three of the parishes were in litigation — two of them were being sued by their former priests. Being involved in a lawsuit is incredibly disheartening and debilitating, as anyone who has been so involved knows. We need to stand with those people. It is also crucial that we have clear legal title to the names and symbols of our church and of its various works.

We need to make it possible for bishops who do not live in the U..S to travel to our annual meetings and for bishops from the US to travel abroad when they are needed there.

I make no apology whatever for asking for money for the Anglican Advance Fund—the province needs office help, we have to pay our legal bills, and travel money is essential. The province has no other means of paying these bills if we don't give. I plan to pass a hat—or maybe a miter--at this afternoon's session—so don't say nobody warned you! I wish each parish would also consider a gift to this fund when you go home.

At the extremely emotionally charged Requiem which preceded the burial of Bishop Joseph P. Deyman last week, Bishop Stanley Francis Lazarczyk reminded the worshippers why the witness of our church is so important. He pointed out that Bishop Deyman was, in ascending order of importance, an Anglican, a Catholic, and a Christian.

He said Bishop Deyman showed he was a Christian by leaving the established church in the late 1970's, when it departed explicitly from the historic, Biblical faith. He showed he was a Catholic in 1991, when he remained loyal to the ACC rather than become part of an ecclesiologically questionable, politically expedient amalgamation plan. He showed he was truly an Anglican in 1997 by refusing to make common cause with former members of our church who wanted to downgrade the righteous heritage we have received from the Church of England.

For all of our freely-admitted foibles and weirdnesses, and despite the twists and turns of our checkered history, the Anglican Catholic Church remains the legitimate heir to the jurisdiction of the Church of England that came to Jamestown in 1607. I hope you believe that. I hope you are willing to give money to support it.

Later this year our diocese will host another ACC Congress on Evangelism. I hope that many of you will attend—both because you have something to learn and because you have something to teach. Our primary task is to maintain what we have and with the help of the Holy Ghost to make it grow.

Tomorrow is Whitsun Eve. It was on that day 1437 years ago that St. Columba set out to evangelize Scotland and help establish the church from which part of our apostolic succession descends.

Again reading from Butler. "Missionary zeal and love of Christ are the only motives ascribed to (Columba) by his early biographers or by St. Adamnan, who is our chief authority for his subsequent history. In the year 563 Columba embarked with twelve companions—all of them his blood relations—in a wicker coracle covered with leather, and on the Eve of Pentecost landed in the island of Iona."

Let us resolve by grace to get into our own boats and paddle them along behind St. Columba, and see if we can convert some people too.


Jones-Baskwill Wedding, May 13, 2000

Archbishop Cahoon delivered this message at the wedding of Fr. Chad Jones and Megan Baskwill.

The Prayer Book's service for Holy Matrimony preaches the most effective sermon possible on the subject. God and Jesus and St. Paul all agree, for various reasons, that Christian marriage is a good thing. As a result, following the Prayer Book, each member of the couple makes promises to God and to each other which concern his moral will.

They are promises he cannot possibly keep on his own. So by blessing the marriage God says, "As long as you have the will to keep these promises, I will give you the grace and the help you need to do it."

Today's wedding points out a custom which the Church of England and her lineal descendents share which is unlike the custom of any other Catholic church on earth. That is the custom that her clergy may marry. In the Roman Communion priests are not to marry, but married men can in some cases serve as priests. In Eastern Orthodoxy a married man may be ordained priest, but no priest may get married.

Our church's rule is that, since Holy Scripture in no way forbids it, the clergy are permitted to apply to themselves the same standards which St. Paul lays out for all Christians in his First Epistle to the Corinthians. St. Paul says some people are called to be married, and some people are called not to be married. Each state of life is a gift which carries its own advantages and disadvantages.

God doesn't think that either of the states is superior to the other. He leaves it to you and the Holy Ghost to figure out which gift you have and then act accordingly.

Father Jones stood before me when I made him a deacon and ordained him a priest, and he promised that his home and his family would be wholesome examples and patterns to the flock of Christ. Today he and Megan are taking a momentous new step in that direction.

Article of Religion XXXII, titled "Of the Marriage of Priests," says that it is lawful for the clergy as it is "for all other Christian men, to marry at their own discretion, as they shall judge the same to serve better to godliness."

Let us pray that the marriage begun here today will indeed serve Megan and Father Chad better to their own personal godliness, and that it will always stand as a wholesome example and pattern to us.


DMAS Synod In June 1999 Bishop Cahoon delivered this message at the Diocesan Synod for Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States.

I am pleased to see all of you here, and I want to express my gratitude to Fr. Hawtin, Fr. Jones, Mr. Cote, Mr. Young and the other members of St. Stephen's for hosting this diocesan synod. St. Stephen's has had an extremely positive impact on our diocese, and I am particularly thankful to them for all of the support and help. and friendship they have extended to me.

That makes sense, in part, because St. Stephen's is, after all, my parish church. My family and I live closer to St. Stephen's than we do to any other Anglican Catholic parish except, of course St. Stephen's mission, St. Michael the Archangel in Frederick, of which we shall be hearing more later on.

As you learned earlier this morning, today is the feast of St. Barnabas. St. Barnabas is a remarkable New Testament character. St. Luke describes him as "a good man, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost." That is as favorable a review as anyone in the Bible gets.

The description of Barnabas sounds like what people who never read the Bible think everybody in the Bible is like - a paragon of such virtue as to be irrelevant to normal human experience. But Barnabas is, indeed, a flesh and blood human being - albeit a good one.

Without being excessively schematic about things, I want to use several of the themes St. Barnabas' life raises to talk about the past, the present, and the future of the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States. I can assure you first of all of what later reports will also tell you - the fundamental state of the DMAS is very sound. St. Barnabas was a good man. This is a good diocese.

I can point happily to the vigor of our diocesan events - the choir festival, the Day of Witness, the pre-Advent retreat, the summer camp, and this synod itself - as good indications that we are more than just a collection of congregations united only on paper.

Much of what we know about St. Barnabas has to do with money. The bishop who ordained me told me that the greatest frustration in the ministry is the lack of measurable results. I disagree with him - at least to the extent that I don't think it is completely wrong to look at Treasurer's Reports for some sort of indication of how things are going. Our Treasurer's report for this past year - and the income he anticipates for next year - are gratifyingly positive.

We first meet St. Barnabas as a landowner who sells a field and gives all the proceeds to the apostles. He appears to be a rich man, yet none of the apostles reject him or his generosity because of it. Later on Barnabas is instrumental in raising money from the richer Gentile regions of the church to help the poorer churchmen in Jerusalem.

Barnabas' prudent dealing with money helps us to see why he is called "a good man." We have it on the authority of Christ himself that what a man does with his money goes a great distance toward revealing who he is - "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

Everyone knows there is no magic formula for raising money in the church. There is a divine formula, however, and that is to awaken people to their Biblical obligation to tithe - to give at least ten percent of their income off the top for what the Prayer Book calls religious and charitable purposes.

We model tithing at all the levels of the church - our parish gives away at least ten percent of its income per year for charity and mercy beyond what we give the diocese, the diocese in turn gives ten percent of its income to the Province and another ten percent to charitable works, and more than ten percent of provincial income is given away.

If you are concerned about money in your church, tithing is the key to solving your problems. The parish priest should preach and teach tithing - and so, he must, of course, tithe himself. He must not say, "I don't tithe, so I can't tell them they have to." He must say, instead, "I tithe, and the fruits of tithing are something I want to share with my people."

St. Barnabas spent a good bit of time in Antioch building up the church there. That reminds us that the most important work of the church goes on at the local parish level. When I was making my visitation to the Diocese of the Pacific Southwest a couple of weeks ago, a man asked me, "What is working in the ACC?"

I said, "What works in the ACC is what works anywhere - a priest who loves his sheep and cares for them by feeding them with the Word of God and the Sacraments of the Church and by. entering into actual relationships with them."

As the priest is obligated to feed his flock, so is the flock obligated to feed him. Part-time ministry is not the model I want to see persist forever in this church. I have been very gratified by the general willingness of vestries in this diocese to strive to pay their clergy properly.

It is not right to think that you can get something for nothing or for relatively little - just because your priest has a pension from somewhere else and/or a hard-working and long-suffering wife who is already on a health-care plan. St. Paul reminds us, "The laborer is worthy of his hire," and "The presbyters who do good work as leaders should be considered worthy of receiving double pay, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching."

Try to pay your priest well and strive to have him work for your parish full-time. You will never regret it. The sage of Timonium is fond of telling me, "If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys."

St. Barnabas was a travelling missionary, and I have had to be a travelling missionary as Acting Metropolitan of the church as well. I am only able to do what I have been doing as Acting Metropolitan and as Episcopal Visitor to four domestic dioceses because I have the unswerving support of my parish - which is kind and generous to me beyond all description. The Executive Committee of the DMAS has also committed itself consistently to support my missionary work in any way they can as long as that work continues. I am grateful to them for their help.

I want also to express my gratitude to Fr. David Rupp of Ascension-Centreville, and to Fr. Dennis Sossi of St. Matthew's-Seat Pleasant. They are always ready to help me when I discover I cannot be two or three places at the same time, and I thank them for giving me that support.

Some more of the very most important things St. Barnabas did had to do with the reconciliation of seemingly hopelessly estranged people. It was Barnabas who convinced the apostles at Jerusalem that Saul - who was once bent upon killing them - had really become converted and was now their ally.

It was Barnabas who convinced St. Paul to return to the mainstream of the church from his self-imposed exile in Tarsus. It was St. Barnabas who helped St. Paul convince the other apostles that Jews and Gentiles had to be on equal footing if the church was to survive. Those are incredibly important achievements.

I am doing what I can to emulate St. Barnabas in making the ACC as open as we can possibly be to conversations with other churches with whom we might have something in common. The ACC's policy was for too long to say, "We'll talk to anybody," but then, in fact, to talk to nobody.

In April I spent a day meeting with Louis W. Falk, our one-time Archbishop. The meeting was at his request, and I went with the unanimous concurrence of the ACC's College of Bishops. Bishop Joseph P. Deyman of the Mid-West attended a conference of bishops from a number of jurisdictions in early May.

Through the good offices of the clergy of St Stephen's, I met recently with the Ecumenical Officer of Bishop Walter Grundorf's Anglican Province of America. I have conversed at length with Bishop John Broadhurst, Suffragan Bishop of London, and head of the Forward-in-Faith movement in the Church of England. On my recent trip to the Diocese of the Pacific Southwest I met with a prominent priest of the ACA (Bishop Falk's group), the Patriarch of the Charismatic Episcopal Church, and, perhaps most amazing, a priest of the Province of Christ the King.

I shall soon be meeting again with an Episcopal priest who is prominent in the Prayer Book Society, the Episcopal Synod, and the Fellowship of Concerned Churchmen. The Fellowship will have its meeting here at St. Stephen's in August, and I expect to attend.

I cannot point to any immediate, tangible results of any of those conversations or beginning and continued relationships. I start off with the idea that division in the body is a scandal, and that the Holy Ghost can't possibly heal scandalous divisions if people refuse to talk to one another.

I have been greatly encouraged by my conversations with the Charismatic Episcopal Church. I believe we are not natural competitors, but that we are natural allies. I believe we have the same faith, and I rejoice that we have almost completely different histories!

Honesty compels me to admit that when we last read about St. Barnabas in the Book of Acts, he is having a tiff with St. Paul. The issue is whether John Mark - who went home before he completed their first missionary journey - will be allowed to accompany them on their second missionary journey. Paul says, "No," so Barnabas takes Mark and sails off to his native Cyprus and out of the story. But later on in his epistles, St. Paul does mention a man named Mark - positively.

I don't think it is too far-fetched to imagine that St. Barnabas - whose name means "Son of Consolation" - "the one who encourages" - persuaded Mark to go to Paul and apologize and reconcile. None of us can afford to forget that at the core of what we are about together is reconciliation - the reconciliation of man to God in Jesus Christ, and the reconciliation of estranged human beings to one another in Jesus Christ.

Second Corinthians must be our watch-word. St. Paul writes, "God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself . . . and he hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation." St. Barnabas shows us the way.


Walsingham Pilgrimage, 1999

In May 1999, Bishop Cahoon delivered this address at the Annual Pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham at St. James' Church, Cleveland, Ohio.

It is a great thrill for me to be back at St. James to spend this wonderful day with you. My only previous visit here for the pilgrimage was in 1972 - twenty-seven years ago -about two weeks before the break-in at the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C. I had been a priest for only about six weeks at that time, yet Fr. Irvin allowed me to administer the holy waters from the well-an unforgettable opportunity.

That was also just weeks before Fr. Irvin's thirty-ninth birthday, which he celebrated in part at my wife's and my humble apartment near Shaker Square. The birthday cake featured a biretta made out of black frosting, Fr. Irvin wore a paper party hat, and when St. James' then senior warden - the very Catholic Mr. George Landis - requested both cake and ice cream for dessert, my wife said, "Well, George, I see you're receiving in both kinds today for a change!"

I just finished going through the Gospel according to St. John with one of my weekly parish Bible classes. One thing that is particularly striking about that gospel is that the two most important individual revelations in it are both made to women. It is St. Mary Magdalene who first sees Jesus after he has risen from the dead and knows him in his resurrection as Lord and God. And it is the woman whom he meets at Jacob's well at Sychar to whom Jesus reveals the unvarnished fact that he is the Messiah of Israel.

I want to spend a moment this afternoon contrasting that woman - and one of her New Testament sisters - with the Blessed Virgin Mary as she is portrayed in the Annunciation story in St. Luke's gospel - the story that is at the heart of the mystery of the revelation at Walsingham. I will close by telling you a story about a more contemporary Jewish woman to whom the word of God came as well and who might be able to be of some help to you.

The woman at the well of Sychar is one of the most wonderful creations in Biblical literature. It is a great shame that her story is not in the Prayer Book Sunday mass lectionary, because we'd all know her better if it were.

But I hope you all do know about her anyway. Jesus and his friends are travelling through Samaria on their way from Jerusalem to Galilee. Jesus packs the disciples off to buy food and heads for the local well. I trust you will indulge me when I tell you that this story is amusing and St. John intends it to be amusing.

At any rate, if you are familiar with the Book of Genesis you will know that in Bible times the well was the best place to go to meet women. This was long before soda shops, shopping malls, or on-line chat rooms. When Abraham sent his servant to look for a wife for Isaac, he went to a well. When Jacob wanted to meet someone to marry he also went to a well.

In the ancient world, women fetched the water for their families, so if you wanted to meet a healthy woman, a well was a good place to look. The place in Nazareth the Orthodox venerate as the site of the Annunciation is at a well - that fact is not in the Bible, but the idea is perfect.

In any event Jesus meets the woman at the well and asks her for a drink of water. That was a major violation of Hebrew cleanliness taboos, and she knew it. Jesus was not acquainted with her in the first place, and in the second, she was a Samaritan - that put at least two strikes against her.

Jesus says, "Woman, if you knew who I am, you'd be asking me for water, and I'd be giving you living water." The highly practical woman replies, "You don't even have a bucket with you - how are you going to give me any water?" Jesus says, "After you drink the water you are collecting here, you're just going to get thirsty again. I can give you water that you can drink and never get thirsty again. Again she replies with perfect practicality and shrewdness, "Please give me some of that water and I won't have to schlep this pot down here and then back home any more."

Jesus has been setting a large bear trap for her in this initial bantering. He says, in all seeming innocency, "Go get your husband and then come on back. The woman says, "I don't have a husband." Jesus says, "You're absolutely right to say you don't have a husband - in fact you have had five husbands, and the man you are living with now is not your husband." She is obviously the New Testament antetype of Henry VIII. So the woman, now completely disarmed, replies, "Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet."

What she does next is what I find especially delicious. She changes the subject. How many times have you been just about to get somewhere in a conversation on an important topic when the other person changes the subject on you? "I think you are drinking too much." 'How about that Tribe?" "I love you more than anything." 'What time does your plane leave?"

The woman at the well finds that her chat with Jesus is getting a bit too personal. So she tries to get the subject off of the threatening topic of her sins and into the rather safer realm of comparative religion. She asks him, "You Jews worship in Jerusalem. We Samaritans have always thought we should worship God up here -- I wonder who's right?"

Jesus says, "As a matter of fact, we Jews are right - but the time is coming when it won't matter where you worship God, because you will be able to worship God anywhere and everywhere." She replies, "I know that when the Messiah comes he will tell us everything. Jesus says, "I who speak to you am the Messiah."

So even though she changes the subject when the focus of judgment falls upon her, the woman at the well not only hears more clearly than anyone else that Jesus is the Messiah - but she also discovers the related point that to have her sins revealed is to have her sins forgiven. When she goes to bring others to Jesus she is able to say, "Come meet the man who knew all the bad things I ever did - but accepted me anyway."

Another hilarious subject - changer appears in the eleventh chapter of St. Luke's Gospel in the reading for the third Sunday in Lent - Devil Sunday. Jesus has done an exorcism and he has debated with the Jews over where his power to cast out demons actually comes from and then he tells a couple of parables about the devil's nature.

Everything is going along smoothly, when just then a woman yells from the crowd, "Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast suckled", that is to say, "Your mother must be so proud to have a clever son like you." Obviously the woman had found the teachings about the devil a bit threatening and hoped that she could switch the focus to the rather more predictable realm of maternal piety - perhaps she had a hint of Episcopalianism or some other form of Wicca in her background.

Jesus replies -- and I believe he replies most sardonically, :"Yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the Word of God and keep it," that is to say, "The really happy people are the ones who listen to God's word and then act on it.

He is certainly not attacking his mother - quite the contrary. No one can be said to have heard the word of God and then kept it more fully or more literally - than the Virgin herself. When we read St. Luke's first chapter we discover a woman with all the practical shrewdness of the woman at the well, but mercifully with no desire to evade an uncomfortable issue when it comes up.

The archangel Gabriel appears in Mary of Nazareth's room - perhaps flying in presumptuously through her window-and says, "Hail thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women." Instead of falling to her knees in a religious ecstasy or saying, "Yes, I am quite the person," St. Luke tells us that she was upset by the method of Gabriel's appearance, and by what Gabriel had told her, and so she turned over in her mind just what he could have been talking about.

Gabriel said, "You don't have to be afraid of me. God wants you to bear his son - he will be the heir of David and the everlasting king of Israel." The practical Mary does not avoid his statement or try to move to another topic. Instead, she applies her practical wit and asks Gabriel what was indeed the most obvious question, "How am I possibly going to have a baby? I've never slept with a man."

People sometimes scoff at the Virgin Birth and say that superstitious people could believe in virgin births in the old days, because they weren't that certain where babies came from. Those people need to realize that the two people who first questioned the Virgin Birth were Joseph and Mary themselves.

Gabriel answers her question - telling her that the power of God will come upon her and overshadow her just as he overshadowed the holy of holies in Solomon's temple - and so the boy child will be called the Son of God. But he doesn't rely on her to accept this out of sentimentality or unquestioning piety.

Instead he asks, "If you're wondering whether God can actually do this, just look at your cousin Elizabeth. Everybody thought she was so old and so barren that she'd never have a child - and she is six months pregnant. With God, nothing shall be impossible."

Recognizing an argument as direct and practical as her own, the Virgin says, "Alright -you've convinced me - I'll do it - behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it unto me according to thy word." We venerate her because she said yes. We adore her because she didn't change the subject.

Other than the Bible and the Prayer Book there is no book I recommend more often to my parishioners than The Way of a Pilgrim. The Way of a Pilgrim and its sequel The Pilgrim Continues His Way are anonymous accounts of a nineteenth-century Russian peasant who travels the countryside looking for an explanation of St. Paul's command in I Thessalonians, 'Pray without ceasing.'

The peasant finally finds a spiritual master who teaches him the Jesus Prayer, 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner' the gospel in a single sentence. The master tells the pilgrim that if he practices saying the prayer regularly, he will discover that it will descend from his lips into his heart, and he will be assured that it is going on in his heart all the time - all he has to do is bring it to his mind or his lips at will, and he will know he is praying without ceasing.

I have been a novice practitioner of the Jesus Prayer for about thirty years now. When I tell people to read the book and give the prayer a try, I say, "This is a book that can change your life. It may not, but it can - if you will let it."

After I had known the Jesus Prayer for about a year, I read an essay by the novelist Ken Kesey - author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest among other novels. He pointed out that The Way of the Pilgrim is the book Franny Glass is reading in J.D. Salinger's novella Franny-and the Jesus Prayer and its effect upon Franny form the subject matter of Salinger's companion novella Zooey.

I had read Franny and Zooey with a great deal of enjoyment when they were published in 1961 - my Episcopalian mother was an inveterate reader of the "New Yorker," where the stories first appeared - but it took Ken Kesey to bring me back to Salinger with new appreciation that came from my own experience of The Way of the Pilgrim and the Jesus Prayer.

Franny Glass is this afternoon our final Jewish woman to whom the word of God about Jesus Christ comes - not from Jesus himself and not from an archangel's visit, but from one of the church's great works of ascetical practice - The Way of a Pilgrim.

People around her try desperately to get Franny to change the subject-telling her that the Jesus Prayer can do her real psychological damage and that she doesn't know Jesus well enough to be entitled to pray the prayer. But she keeps on with it and in the end achieves a measure of peace of mind - and this in the midst of a family so religiously eccentric that they would be worthy candidates for membership in the ACC.

If you are looking for some new excitement in your spiritual life I recommend that you read The Way of a Pilgrim and The Pilgrim Continues His Way - both far shorter than anything by Tom Clancy, Danielle Steele, or John Grisham. Read them, try practicing the prayer, and then, to encourage yourself further, take a look at Franny and Zooey for a thoroughly satisfying account of how prayer can change things - and change them in a way Hallmark Cards would never imagine.

Franny and Zooey arise in the same context we know from reading both the Old and the New Testaments. These people are smart, articulate Jews - with a bit of Irish Catholicism tossed into the mix. Franny displays the same shrewd incarnational piety we see in the woman at the well and in the Blessed Virgin herself. So when you think about these women, never forget the closing words of the Book of Proverbs - words written by King Solomon, a man who should have known what he was talking about, because he had 700 wives and 700 concubines himself. "Charm is deceptive, and beauty disappears, but a woman who honors the Lord should be praised. Give her credit for all she does. She deserves the respect of everyone."


Bishop Cahoon's Address, 1997 DMAS Synod

At the beginning of last week I had the chance to meet with the Vestry of one of our parishes. The meeting took place, I am pleased to report, for happy and productive reasons rather than upsetting and suicide-inducing ones. Along with the business we had to transact, inevitably we got to talking about other things that are going on in the diocese and the wider church.

One of the women on the vestry has been around the ACC longer than the rest of the people have, and after she and I exchanged reminiscences about some of the stranger adventures we have been through together, she exclaimed, "Well, the amazing thing is that after all of that we are still here." We are still here. The Congress of St. Louis, which got the continuing church off the ground, took place twenty years ago this coming fall. We are still here. Whenever some strange new phone message appears as if by magic on one of my various tapes or a bizarre new fax invades our kitchen, I look at my wife--or the cat--or just at the sky and say, "All I wanted to do twenty years ago was save the Prayer Book. Where did all this other stuff come from?" But, nevertheless, we are still here.

I know I am not supposed to pretend to be a CEO giving a self-serving annual report to the stockholders, but I would be lying if I did not tell you that the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States has had a good year. In a little while our always diligent and most treasured Treasurer is going to tell you the same thing--and he is going to have some extremely relevant numbers with which to back up what he has to say--numbers which will suggest that we are the Tiger Woods of dioceses. During this past year, by God's grace, we have achieved a greater degree of permanence.

Remember that God promised two things to Abraham--descendants and land--promises which meant that the people of God would have continuity in both time and space. By being part of the body of Christ, as St. Paul tells us, we become heirs to those promises.

We are now more settled than ever before in both aspects of God's promise to Abraham--in people and in land. I have instituted three rectors in the past year--Father Strother Smith in St. Columba's-Lebanon; Father Alexander Darby in Christ Church-Warrenton; and Father Marvin Gardner in St. Thomas of Canterbury-Roanoke. All three Institutions were extremely happy occasions.

The Prayer Book service for the Institution of a Rector is very much like a wedding. The priest and the congregation make extremely serious vows to one another and then they pledge their troth by giving and receiving keys. Our recent three all look to me like marriages which are going to last a long time. Thanks be to God.

We have several fine men studying for the ministry. I ordained one man deacon and priest during the past year, and I shall ordain another deacon tomorrow. Our sister missionary diocese of New England has a newly-ordained deacon and a newly-ordained priest as well. Several clergymen from other churches are investigating the possibility of joining us. We also have the realistic hope of founding a diocesan center to train men for the ministry during the coming year.

As far as land is concerned--I have consecrated two parish churches in the past twelve months--St. Columba's-Lebanon; and St. Peter the Apostle-Christiansburg. I blessed a plot of land which was purchased wisely by St. Anne's-Charlotte Hall; Holy Family-Gaithersburg now owns land on which it hopes some day soon to build; and St. Luke's Fredericksburg has also joined the ranks of property-owners. All of these congregations are to be congratulated for making strides toward permanence.

My own two northern Virginia congregations moved into a church building together just after last year's synod. We have been living together--chastely, I assure you, though with, at least in some sense, benefit of clergy, and I trust we will be married in the eyes of both God and the Commonwealth of Virginia very soon.

We wound up last year's Synod with the ordination of Chandler Jones to the diaconate. I want again to thank the Rev. William C. Crites and the members of both St. Paul's-Lexington and St. Stephen's-Clifton Forge for making it possible for Chad to work with them during this past year. I believe that Chad will spend the rest of his ministry being grateful to Fr. Bill and his people that he has had this tremendous opportunity--at least I hope he will.

Chad became Fr. Chad last St. Thomas's Day, and he is now on his way to St. Stephen's Church in Timonium where he will serve as Curate to Fr. Guy Hawtin. This is also a wonderful opportunity for Chad's further training and growth in the ministry. I am grateful to Fr. Guy and to St. Stephen's for making it possible for Fr. Chad to have a further apprenticeship.

I offer similar praise and thanks to St. Alban's-Richmond. Here in Richmond the man at the top of the clerical totem pole serves part-time while there is now a curate who serves full-time! We are so glad Fr. Sam Catlin and Fr. Bob Menas have worked out this complicated arrangement so effectively that we are going to throw a new deacon into the mix tomorrow.

I am delighted that Mr. Anthony Huston Sgro is joining the ranks of our clergy. He has been nurtured in the Office of the Governor of Virginia, but truly tested at the DMAS Summer Camp. I look forward to his serving both St. Alban's and the diocese.

Everything has not been sweetness and light in the past twelve months. I am more grateful than I can ever tell you for the expression of support you gave Bp. Rutherfoord and me at last year's Synod. That support has kept my head high through what has not been an easy year in relations between our diocese and some other parts of the Province--and your prayers and good wishes will sustain me through what I fear are some unpleasant moments which lie ahead.

Several of our parishes have also had internal difficulties, in no case, thank God, fatal, but in all cases dismaying and regrettable. I find myself saying to clergymen and vestries, "Take heart that there is trouble. The devil is the source of the trouble. The fact that he is still interested in messing with us means that we are doing something that threatens him--and that's got to be good."

I have had many occasions on which to take refuge in these words of King Solomon from the Book of Proverbs, and to commend them to others: "These six things doth the Lord hate: yea seven are an abomination unto him: a proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood. An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, a false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren." Sheep--and shepherds--please take note.

Back on the other hand, the success of the Diocesan Youth Camp, the increase in the number of parish Bible study classes, and the marvelous response to both the pre-Advent retreat and the Lenten Day of Witness indicate to me that we are, indeed, concentrating on what is right--which is the education of our people in the Word of God and in the ways of his Church.

One of our priests is always telling me, "The only proper question to ask of anything in the church is 'Does this bring people to Jesus?"' He is absolutely right. We cannot ever allow ourselves to forget that our wonderful tradition and liturgy and theological perspective are not ends in themselves. They are only means--means of bringing people to Jesus and nurturing them in him once we have them there. Nothing else matters.

I am grateful to all of the parishes which have invited me to visit during the past year. It is thrilling to confirm and receive new members into the church, to perceive the health and the growth of so many of our congregations, to preach and teach, and generally to get to know people better. I cannot imagine how I could possibly have a more hospitable or supportive or receptive diocese with which to work.

The former Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill liked to say, "All politics is local." There is a profound sense in which all Christianity is local too. No matter how international or intergalactic we become, and no matter how artful and elaborate our various levels of ecclesiastical structure are, the fundamental unit of the church is the diocese, and the vitality of the diocese depends upon the vitality of the parish churches.

The bedrock of my ability to function as your bishop is my parish of St. Andrew and St. Margaret of Scotland in Alexandria. I feel about the parish, if possible, even more intensely than I feel about the diocese as a whole. I cannot conceive of what a more supportive and open and receptive congregation would be like. I thank them as I thank you with all my heart.

I want to close by telling you a story. Fr. Guy Hawtin has become the man whom people in Maryland know to contact when they need someone to speak forthrightly against assisted suicide and in favor of the hospice movement. He was invited to speak at a community college in Baltimore recently, and he invited me to come to see the show.

Fr. Guy was, of course, cast and costumed as the designated religious fanatic--babbling almost uncontrollably about God and Nazis and moral responsibility to an audience who just wanted to be allowed to knock off their grandmothers--but in a kindly way. On the panel with him was a beautifully-coiffed, well-manicured suburban lady who was representing the Hemlock Society--which touts the joys of unassisted suicide. Her name was--as God is my witness--Gomora. The third person on the panel was a somewhat scruffier woman in a wheelchair. She is mostly blind and mostly deaf and her mind-bending and heart-rending witness is that the right-to-die movement is really aimed at people like her--people of whom healthy rich yuppie doctors will be all to eager to say, "They don't have a quality of life that is worth preserving. Let's put them out of their misery--for their own good."

She wears a button which reads, in bold black letters, "Not dead yet." And that is her way of saying, "We're still here."


Bishop John's Remarks at the Diaconal Ordination of

Mr. Anthony Huston Sgro
June 14, 1997

I met Anthony Sgro for the first time on the day I was installed as bishop of the diocese in Warrenton just over two years ago. He was as always, nattily attired--on that occasion in a glen plaid suit, a black shirt, and a clerical collar. He was serving then as a deacon in the Episcopal Missionary Church.

The ACC cannot be certain that Holy Orders conferred in the Episcopal Missionary Church are really valid. It is too complicated to explain in a brief sermon exactly why that is so. I can assure you that our judgment in the matter is not mainly political in nature. It is also not an indulgence in the sin of which the ACC is so frequently accused-judgmental, legalistic, nitpicking Pharisaism.

Our judgment about all this is, in fact, pastoral--it's about the sheep. We want to be absolutely certain that the men we indentify to you as bishops are, in fact, really bishops; that the priests are really priests; and that the deacons are really deacons.

We left the Episcopal Church because their purporting to ordain women throws all of their sacramental acts into question. We could not be sure that their sacramental system was still valid, so we broke communion with them. We want to take care that there is no question at all about the sacraments which we offer in our parishes as channels of God's grace.

Right now I don't know for certain that Anthony is a deacon. In a few minutes I will know for sure--and so will you. I think he shows admirable humility by being willing to go along with all this.

For the moment Anthony will pursue his vocation as a deacon fulltime, but he will get his income from his work in the secular world. He will be spending a great deal of his time with people who are not Christians--or who are not yet Christians. That gives him opportunities for Christian witness and Christian service that are different from the kinds of opportunities people who work for the church full-time have.

Clergy who also work in the secular world can be models for our laypeople--who work and live in the secular world full-time. You can serve people, you can minister to people, you can counsel people, you can encourage people to come to classes and to church services--and nobody will be able to dismiss you by saying, "You are only doing this because you are paid to do it."

The basic evangelistic task of the church is not carried out within the walls of the church. You have to be in the world to find the people whom you want to draw to Christ. It is both a biological and theological fact that shepherds cannot make more sheep--only sheep can make more sheep.

One of my favorite stories about witnessing in the secular world involves a woman who was a parishioner of mine in California. She was an alcoholic, and all of her three children were involved in various forms of drug abuse. Whenever she was sober long enough she was a volunteer in the coffee shop of our local hospital.

As she and her family began to cope with their many problems, it was obvious to everyone around them that the church was the primary positive factor in their recoveries.

The manager of the coffee shop had never been a churchgoer, and he had never even been baptized. He came to church one Sunday, and he told me, "A church that could do so much good for that crazy family is something I have got to see." He was soon baptized and confirmed, and he is now a leading layman in an ACC parish in the Diocese of the South.

My alcoholic friend has been sober now for about thirteen years. She brought the coffee shop manager to Christ with the testimony of her life and her healing. Nothing I could have said would have got him through the church door that first time--which was all it took.

Anthony, my friend, today you follow in the footsteps of Deacon St. Stephen, who laid down his life because he would not deny Christ; you follow in the footsteps of Deacon St. Philip, who came upon a man who could not understand the Bible passage he was reading, explained it to him, and led him to baptism; and you follow in the steps of Jesus himself who tells us, "I am among you as he that serves. I am among you as a deacon." Please show the church what that means.


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Revised October 20, 2001