Tag Archives: ordination

Love is his meaning: A Sermon for Easter 6A, 2026

Posted on by
Reply

May 10, 2026

         Today is the twentieth anniversary of my ordination as a priest in the Episcopal Church. Remarkably, nearly 17 of those years have occurred here, as Rector of Grace Church. Looking back, I am enormously grateful for all those who have accompanied me on this journey, to Corrie especially, to all of those clergy and laypeople who encouraged me as I was discerning my call and preparing for my ordination, and all those who have supported and prayed for me, and those who have been ministers alongside me, clergy and laity alike.

         It was the culmination of a long process. I had sensed a call to ministry during my college years but it became apparent that ordained ministry in the religious tradition in which I was raised would not be possible. Soon after joining the Episcopal Church in my early 30s I began exploring ordination but the bishops of two different dioceses seemed unwilling to work with my unique situation. So by my 40s, although I had a strong sense of call, it seemed the church wasn’t hearing that call as I did. I joke that I finally found a bishop who didn’t think I needed to go back to seminary in order to become a priest, since I had a doctorate and had even taught for a year at an Episcopal seminary. Even so, the ordination process took five years to complete, which was frustrating and demoralizing. The process, which is meant to ensure that well-qualified candidates are ordained by the church is fallible and can be dehumanizing. 

         Still, it’s all been worthwhile as well as challenging, intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally. I’ve found myself growing in ways and directions that have been surprising. Just this week, for example, I’ve worked with our new partners in ministry: Catalyst for Change, as they have moved into our basement space and begun to take over the work of Off the Square Club. I’ve met with the team from Historic Window and Door who are about to begin the repair work on the stained glass windows on the Carroll St. side of the nave; and I’ve met with someone from another denomination whose daughter is about to be confirmed in the Episcopal Church and he wanted to learn more about the Anglican tradition and how it differs from his own. 

         Among all that, and everything else, I found myself taking a bit of time to revisit my academic past. Friday was the commemoration of Julian of Norwich in our liturgical calendar and in preparation for the midweek Eucharist I refreshed my memory concerning her life, writings, and theology. I pulled out the volume of her writings that I’ve had since grad school. It’s a paperback, so it’s falling apart now. Its pages are full of notes and underlinings from successive readings for class as a student and as a professor; something of an archaeology of my own history with the text, as a scholar and as a Christian. We’ll come back to that later.

         Today, on this Sixth Sunday of Easter, we heard again from the 14th chapter of John, part of Jesus’ farewell discourse to his disciples, set at the Last Supper, as he prepares them for his imminent departure them and for his continuing presence among them in different modes. In Jesus’ words, and in the beautiful phrases of the collect for the day, our attention is directed to God’s love and all the ways in which our love of God is grounded in God’s love for us. 

O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good
things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such
love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above
all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we
can desire; 

         The collect reminds us that the love we have for God is itself a gift from God, and made possible by God’s love for us. A similar note is struck in Jesus’ words here: 

 They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

The same theme is expressed in the words of the gospel hymn we just sang; written by Bianco da Siena in the 14th century: “Come down, O love divine, seek thou this soul of mine.” We love, because God first loved us.

         That love is also made manifest in the Holy Spirit. Here, Jesus uses the word Advocate in our translation. It’s an attempt to render in English the Greek word “Paraclete” which means someone who is called to be alongside another, often as a legal representative; so in that sense, “Advocate” is a perfectly acceptable rendering. But there are other nuances in the term. One of them is “Comforter” which was the word used in the King James version here, and connects the gospel to our gospel hymn again: “O comforter, draw near…” we sang. Jesus assures the disciples that the Paraclete, the Advocate “abides in them” striking that other dominant theme of John’s gospel, of abiding, but now, it is the Advocate abiding with the disciples in the absence of the bodily Jesus. 

         As I reflect on my twenty years of priestly ministry, I am deeply moved by all those among whom and to whom I have ministered—the babies and adults I’ve baptized; the couples I’ve married, the faithful Christians I have buried. I reflect on the outstretched hands of all those to whom I have said “The body of Christ, the bread of heaven” as I have distributed Christ’s body; the people I’ve prayed with and for.

         I think also of all those who have accompanied me along this journey; members of altar guilds, vestries, acolytes, musicians, staff members. I consider all the ways God’s love has been present along the way, even when it seemed profoundly absent.

         Our journeys are curious, surprising things. The encounters we have; the circumstances in which we suddenly find ourselves from time to time; the changes and challenges of a culture that is experiencing rapid and disorienting transformation. Sometimes I wonder whether I bear any resemblance to the person I was forty or fifty years ago; sometimes I wonder whether I’ve changed at all.

         At the outset, I mentioned spending some time with Julian of Norwich this week. Julian was a 14th century anchoress and mystic      who experienced a series of visions when she was around thirty years old and spent the rest of her life reflecting on and trying to make sense of those visions. These reflections culminated in what is one of the greatest and most profound works of Christian mysticism of all time. And as she pondered and reflected on what it all meant, Jesus spoke to her words that encapsulate the good news, for the 14th century and today:

         What, do you wish to know the Lord’s meaning in this thing? Know it well, love was his meaning. Who reveals it to you? Love. What did he reveal to you? Love. Why does he reveal it to you? For love. Remain in this and you will know more of the same. But you will never know different, without end.

Witness to history: The ordination of Scott Anderson

Posted on by
4

And a little bit of a participant, too.

Scott Anderson’s ordination took place on a glorious fall day in Madison. It’s warm and sunny, and the leaves are reaching the peak of fall color. On the street corner opposite Covenant Presbyterian Church, a small group of protestors led by people from Westboro Baptist Church, held their signs denouncing the ordination of LGBT people. Opposite them stood a larger group protesting the protestors. There were TV news trucks on the street as well.

Inside, there was joy, thanksgiving, and celebration. There was also acknowledgement that this event was not being celebrated by all Christians, or all Presbyterians, that there is division, and hurt.

As I sat there, I thought of all of those, including Scott, who have struggled over the last decades, people whose callings were denied; clergy who were forced to live a lie, and many who still do. I thought of the gay clergy I’ve known, those who have been able to serve openly and those who have not. I thought of all of those who have struggled in the ordination process with their sexuality and were not able to answer God’s call.

Perhaps the most poignant moment came when Scott received back the stole that had been given him by his first congregation, made by Hmong members of that congregation. It was a stole he sent to the “Shower of Stoles” project, a spontaneous effort begun when one Presbyterian minister was forced to give up her ordination. The stoles represent LGBT clergy or lay persons who have not been able to live out their call in the church. Now there are more than 1100 stoles in the project, but Scott’s is the first to return to its first owner. It’s a remarkable story. Scott is a remarkable man, full of love, grace, and humility.

At the moment of ordination, all clergy and elders were invited to come forward for the laying on of hands. It was a powerful moment. Sharing in the gift of the Holy Spirit, sharing in this historic ordination, the hands that reached out to touch the shoulders of the person in front of us, were also reaching out to heal a broken world, and a broken church. As we stood and prayed, I caught a glimpse of the congregation. It seemed like almost all of the pews were empty. Clergy from all over the country, from many denominations, participated in this laying on of hands.

As  I sat, I wondered when I would be sitting in a parish of the Episcopal Diocese of Milwaukee, participating in the ordination of a LGBT person to the diaconate or priesthood. I pray for that day.