The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Identity
Matthew 5:21-37

I have preached in the past on the difficult Gospel passage we just heard. And sometime in the future I will preach on it again, but not today. Like many of you, I expect, I have found the events in Egypt and the Middle East grabbing a good bit of my attention these last few weeks. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a news junky, so I’ve just seen bits and pieces of coverage, and probably not the same bits and pieces that you’ve seen.

As I’ve watched and followed the stories, I’ve been very much aware of how all the news we get in this country is interpreted. Everything comes to us interpreted, from decisions on how headlines are written to which clips to show on TV, never mind the actual commentary. Everything is interpreted. And, as with many other stories, interpreting the events in Egypt has become fodder for journalistic extremism. In the midst of all this, I urge you to pray a prayer I think everyone can share for the people of Egypt. Pray that this time may be for the people of Egypt a new beginning, not just an end. Pray that in these events they will find a new beginning that offers new life, new creativity, new liberty.

I actually want to talk about us, not Egypt, this morning. The revolution in Egypt is ultimately about identity. (For this insight, I’m indebted to an editorial I read in the on-line Christian Science Monitor.) It is about the people of Egypt determining who they want to be, what their identity will be. This broad search for identity is relevant for us, too. As individual human beings, as Christians, as Episcopalians, even as members of this parish. With respect to the people of Egypt, many commentators have noted that, at least up to now, the people of Egypt have been much clearer about who they did not want to be, and not at all clear about who they do want to be. They have clearly rejected their past identity, but have yet to form a vision of who they do want to be in the future.

And that aspect of the issue of identity has meaning for us as well. Figuring out who you are not, who you don’t want to be is very important, and it is often the beginning of a wondrous process of transformation. But it is only the beginning. To grow into, to claim the identity God has in mind for us, we need to move beyond a self-identity that is based on who we are not, to one that lives and celebrates who we are.

I may be particularly aware of this because of my experiences at my last parish. As some of you remember, I was Rector of St. Patrick’s in Brewer, Maine, before I came here. St. Pat’s is a small parish; Brewer is a small town. Brewer is right across the river from Bangor, a considerably larger small town. And in Bangor there is a lofty Gothic stone Episcopal church, called, coincidentally, St. John’s. The people of St. Pat’s were faithful, had a rich character and good ministries. But much of their sense of their own identity revolved around not being St. John’s. They were not a Bangor church; they wanted to not be St. John’s, which was perceived, I think, by the folk of St. Pat’s to be a hoity-toity place and rather rigid.

Knowing who you are not, knowing who you do not want to be, is important, and often the beginning of growth and transformation. But to really be who God calls us to be we need to perceive and claim an identity that celebrates and lives into who we are.

As individual human beings, I think psychologists call this the process of self-actualization. It begins with the clear affirmation, “I am not my mother,” and grows into a sense of who I am. This process is an important aspect of maturity and mental health.

As individual Christians, the journey into identity begins at baptism, when we say, “I am not subject to the powers and principalities of this world.” Then through prayer and study we grow into the particular vocation that God desires for us. “This is the character of the life I am called to live as part of the Body of Christ.”

What about our identity as Episcopalians? If I were to ask you to describe our Episcopal identity, what would you say? You might look to our history. You might feel like you should be able to talk about our particular theology, if only you were clearer on what it actually is.

It seems, as Episcopalians, we are often more clear on who we are not. For example, we are not mindless fundamentalists. At least we perceive fundamentalists to be mindless and we know we do not want to be that. A while back there was an advertising poster for the Episcopal Church that said. “You don’t have to check your mind at the door.” Or, we are not like those emotional, flash-in-the-pan, weepy personal-relationship-with-Christ evangelicals. We do not think of Jesus as our best bud. Or, in more modern lingo, Jesus is not my BFF. We’re not Roman Catholics, whom we certainly perceive to be faithful, but enslaved by the institutional church.

So who are we, in positive terms, as Episcopalians? I offer you two very important qualities of our identity that you might not have on the tip of your tongue. This is far from a comprehensive description of Episcopal identity, but it is something to hang onto.

First, we are people who pray together. The most important activity that unites us, that we do in common, is prayer. Some of you might have said, as individuals, that the Book of Common Prayer is something you cherish about the Episcopal identity. But the Book of Common Prayer is much more than something you or I may like; it is what we do. This has been true since the time of the English Reformation when differences of politics and even theology were seen as subordinate to the activity of common prayer. The activity of kneeling side-by-side, sharing the same words in prayer, is more important than anything that might seem to divide us. The most important thing we do together as a community is pray. Any liturgical church could say this about its identity, but we are people who pray in common.

Second, as Episcopalians, our life of faith is pragmatic. At a diocesan meeting yesterday, Bishop Lee reminded us that Episcopal scholar John Booty identifies us as pragmatic. And by this, he doesn’t mean “pragmatic” in the sense of “practical,” he means rooted in “practice.” Look at our baptismal covenant, the most powerful and focused articulation of how Episcopalians see ourselves living as Christians. It begins with an affirmation of faith in the Trinitarian God. Then comes what Bishop Lee calls the “so-what” questions. So you believe in the Trinitarian God… so what? What follows are five clear practices. It is not a theological confession that identifies us, not an emotional experience of God; it is what we do. We continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers. That is, we go to church and participate in the life of the parish. We persevere in resisting evil and practice reconciliation (as today’s Gospel commands us to do.) We practice evangelism. We practice service and compassion towards others. We strive for justice and peace. Our identity is wrapped up in what we do, our practice of faith. We are pragmatic.

What is our identity as a parish? I’ll admit I hear parishioners, from time to time, talk about our identity in terms of who we are not. We are not IJP. I think people mean by that primarily that we are not Roman Catholic, rather than focusing on any particular feature of IJP as a parish. We are not Community Church. Sometimes that is said with relief; sometimes with a twinge of envy. Perceiving the size of their budget or the abundance of their programs to be enviable. And I expect there are one or two parishioners who can only see us as “not what we used to be.”

All of these are really OK. Even these “nots” are a part of our identity. And they can be a starting point for transformation and discovery of the identity that God calls us into now. In seeing who we are not, we begin to get a vision of who we are.

Who are we? Remember that the qualities of our Episcopal identity that I described earlier are ours as a parish as well. We pray together. A diverse and disparate group of people; we share common prayer. We value our shared life of prayer as a very important part of who we are. And we practice our faith. We are a pragmatic parish. If you haven’t read my annual report, do (earlier post). You’ll see faith identified through practice.

I would add one more quality of our identity. As a parish, we are a place defined less by our programs (although we have good ones) and more by our relationships. Individual relationships, nurtured over the years through caring and Christian companionship. We have lots of what congregational development gurus call relational groups. Formal and informal groups in which connection and communion flourish. And we do fellowship well. Fellowship doesn’t just happen. It is a particular charism of this parish; it is part of our identity. Maybe you have other thoughts on our identity as Episcopalians or as a parish. I’d be interested to hear them. We are richly blessed, both in who we are and in who God calls us to become.