Despite the various hurdles presented by a historic winter, the Union of Black Episcopalians' Absalom Jones service on Feb. 22 was marked by high spirits, an opportunity to honor lay leaders and a sermon by Bishop Gates (full text of sermon appears below). Originally scheduled for Feb. 15, the Absalom Jones service was rescheduled due to winter storm Neptune, which dropped 17 inches of snow on Boston.
"Attendance was low but spirits were high," said the Rev. Leslie Sterling, Rector of St. Bartholomew's Church in Cambridge, which hosted the service. "Those hardy New Englanders who would not be deterred by winter challenges enjoyed the worship and the very delicious dinner at the reception afterward," she said.
This was the 30th year that the Massachusetts Chapter of the Union of Black Episcopalians (UBE) presented its Frederick Douglass Isaacs Jr. Award for Outstanding Lay Leadership. This award is given to local Episcopalians of African-American, Afro-Caribbean or African heritage who have demonstrated dedication and excellence in lay ministry. All churches in the diocese are invited to submit names; most awardees are from the traditionally black parishes. The 2015 honorees are:
- Hazel Briceno, Church of St. Augustine and St. Martin, Boston
- Henry Cadogan, St. Cyprian's Church, Roxbury
- Berril Carter, St. Bartholomew's Church, Cambridge
- Ludwick Coye, St. Mary's Church, Dorchester
- Listo Fisher, Trinity Church, Boston
- Valrie Harris, Cathedral Church of St. Paul/Church of St. John the Evangelist, Boston
- Isaac Martinez, St. James's Church, Cambridge
- Gladys Obukwelu, Trinity Church, Randolph
- Branwen Smith-King, Grace Church, Medford
- Cabral Walters, St. John and St. James Church, Roxbury
- Naia Wilson, St. Mark's Church, Dorchester
Absalom Jones Day, celebrated in the Episcopal Church on Feb. 13, commemorates Jones's legacy as
A protrait of Absalom Jones
the first black man ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. Ordained in 1804 after spending 10 years in the diaconate, he founded the first black Episcopal church, the African Episcopal Church of St. Thomas in Philadelphia. UBE chapters across the country hold special services on or near Jones's feast day, and others churches and dioceses recognize him as part of Black History Month, according to Sterling.
"His personal story is an example of perseverance: beginning life as a slave, learning how to read and write at a time when very few blacks were able to do so, purchasing his wife's freedom, continuing to plead for his own freedom until it was granted, founding a church as a lay minister and persisting in his call to ordination," Sterling said.
Jones was added to the Episcopal Church's calendar of Lesser Feasts and Fasts in 1973, though he was commemorated by many black churches before then. The Massachusetts Chapter of the UBE was incorporated in 1975, and Sterling said that the chapter has held an Absalom Jones Day service annually for most of its 40-year history.
"We look to him as an example of aspiration fulfilled and hard work rewarded and triumph over racism," she said. "He was revered and celebrated by black laity and clergy long before he was given an official day on the Episcopal calendar."
--Ellen Stuart Kittle
###
Sermon by The Rt. Rev. Alan M. Gates at the Commemoration of Absalom Jones, Sunday, Feb. 22, 2015, at St. Bartholomew’s Church in Cambridge
An eagle holds a turtle in its talons. What are we to make of this?
Around the world and around this diocese, churches have lecterns in the shape of an eagle. It is said that the symbolism comes from an early belief that the eagle was able to stare directly into the sun, and that the scriptures give Christians a similar ability to stare unflinchingly at divine revelation. Or perhaps it is that the eagle soared higher than any other creature, and was therefore the closest to heaven, carrying the Gospel to the four corners of the world.
One parish church in this diocese has a strange variation on the theme. In this particular case, the lectern’s eagle has a turtle grasped in its talons. After a long search for the Christian symbolism of the turtle, it was discovered that this particular eagle had originally been carved not for a church, but for the furnishings of a wealthy estate. Only later was the carving retrofitted to serve as a church lectern. So the symbolism of the turtle in that eagle’s claw was to be found not in the pages of Scripture, but in the pages of Aesop’s Fables! Several versions exist. Here is one:
A Tortoise, discontented with his lowly life and envious of the birds he saw high in the air, begged an Eagle to teach him to fly. The Eagle protested that it was idle for him to try, as nature had not provided the tortoise with wings; but the Tortoise pressed him with entreaties and promises. So at length the Eagle consented, and picked up the turtle in his great talons. Soaring to a great height in the sky, the Eagle then let him go. The wretched Tortoise fell headlong and was dashed to pieces on a rock.
End of fable. End of turtle. And the moral of Aesop’s tale: Do not aspire to be something more than what you are.
The Gospel readings we have heard in our churches for the past two Sundays tell a different tale. Last Sunday the reading (which you did not hear because we were in the middle of Blizzard Number Four – I believe that was “Neptune!”) focused on the Transfiguration. [Mark 9:2-9] Jesus takes Peter and James and John with him to the top of a high mountain. There, before their eyes, his appearance is changed. His face shines like the sun. His clothes become dazzling white. And alongside him suddenly appear Moses, giver of the Law, and Elijah, first among the prophets. So Jesus is revealed on the mountaintop in no uncertain terms – an electrifying vision of the heavenly Christ.
Note that Jesus does not change into something he had not been before. Rather, his Transfiguration serves to reveal what he had been all along. The change is only in the clarity with which he is seen to be who he truly is. Did the crowds say he was John the Baptist? Elijah? One of the ancient prophets? But, no! He was the Christ, the Son of the living God. He could not settle for anything less than his true identity. So where Aesop’s fable of the Eagle and the Turtle is about being nothing more than who you are, the Gospel of the Transfiguration is about being nothing less than who you truly are.
“This is my Son, the beloved.” God’s words, heard at Jesus’ Transfiguration, are the same words spoken earlier at his baptism. We read that story in this morning’s Gospel reading. [Mark 1:9-11] Just as Jesus comes up out of the Jordan River, the Spirit descends upon him like a dove, “And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” [1:11] Here is Jesus, at the river. A man of some thirty years of age. Who knows what he has been doing for thirty years – probably working in the carpentry shop with his step-father Joseph. But now he must be fully who he is. And so it begins. And so begins his three year mission of messianic teaching, preaching, and healing.
The Transfiguration then signals the shift towards Jesus’ Passion. Jesus goes down the hill to face all that he knew the Messiah would face – rejection, betrayal, crucifixion. How could he do it? He could do it because he knew exactly who he was, and what he was meant to do. He could do no less.
“You are my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Same words, near the beginning and near the end. And this, my friends is not the voice of Aesop’s fable. This is not Aesop’s eagle, telling the turtle not to aspire to something more than it is. This is the voice of the Gospel; this is the Holy Spirit’s dove, telling Jesus – telling us – not to settle for less than who we truly are.
Here we are, gathered to commemorate Absalom Jones, our church’s first black priest. I wonder how Absalom Jones’s story would have gone if he had listened to the message of Aesop’s turtle. For there is no doubt that such voices were calling to him in his day:
“You are a bright child, Absalom, and you have taught yourself to read, but do not think that you are fit to go to school,” said the voices.
“Now you have been schooled by those Quakers, young Absalom, but do not think this entitles you to your freedom,” said the voices.
“Now you have purchased your freedom, Absalom, but do not think that here at St. George’s Methodist Church you are free to preach,” said the voices.
“Now your evangelism has born remarkable fruit, brother Absalom, but do not think that you and your people will be allowed out of the balcony,” said the voices.
“Now your new ‘First African Church’ has done well, Absalom, and we will ordain you a deacon in the Episcopal Church, but do not think we will make you a priest,” said the voices. “Well, maybe after ten years, … maybe then.”
Again and again, Absalom Jones was given the message of Aesop’s turtle. Do not aspire to something you are not. But by God’s grace, again and again, Absalom listened instead to the Gospel message, and embodied that message: You are my beloved; settle for nothing less.
The year 2014 turned out to be a year in which the late-18th-century striving embodied by Absalom Jones was proven to be tragically pertinent in the early 21st century. The litany of names is familiar to us – Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice – but the details of each individual case are eventually eclipsed by the sheer overwhelming testimony to continuing racial inequality in this nation. The incidents are dramatic and appalling. But it is the unspoken, underlying principles and the failure of the overarching system to which these individual tragedies ultimately point.
On December 9, my 28-year-old son Philip posted a reflection on Facebook as he struggled to make sense of the Garner ruling, and what was and was not his rightful place as a white man participating as an ally in the BlackLivesMatter protests in New York City. Philip, a stage theater artist, had stumbled upon this line, spoken by a character in a 19th-century German script: “I must make you realize who you are, and to what you may not aspire!” [Dr. Schön to Lulu in Earth Spirit by Frank Wedekind, 1895] Philip wrote:
“This line haunts me. It is the voice of the doubt in my own head and the voice of our current national shame. This voice urges me to self-sabotage in all kinds of ways in my personal and artistic and professional lives. ‘Don’t you know what you are? You belong here, you deserve this, no more and nothing else.’
“And isn’t the failure to indict an even larger, more horrible instance of the same message? A trial would allow the possibility of justice, so here is the voice of power in our national ear saying: ‘Justice? How dare you even aspire to justice. No. That is not yours. That is not who you are. What makes you think justice would want anything to do with you?’
“We have to reject this voice, in our personal lives and as a greater society. We are being told we may not aspire to be better. That we are stuck in our patterns and that we will never, ever, break out of them. I believe that is a lie. It is a sick and dangerous lie that we tell ourselves every day to absolve ourselves of the responsibility to change, and that the system tells us every day to ensure that we do not have the spirit to effect change. We do. We can. It is difficult. But please at least aspire.” [Philip Gates, Facebook post, 12/9/2015]
As individuals, as a church, and as a nation, we cannot cease to aspire. To do so would be a betrayal of our national ideals, just as it would be a betrayal of the Christian gospel of repentance and resurrection. In the context of today’s commemoration, to cease to aspire would be a betrayal of the legacy of Absalom Jones.
It is humbling for me, a white bishop in the Church, to have been invited to celebrate and preach at this event of the Union of Black Episcopalians. I thank you for this honor.
I recognize that it is easy enough for white leadership in the church to decry and repent of the way the church treated Absalom Jones two hundred years ago. It is easy enough to decry and repent of the way that Dr. King and others were treated on a bridge in Alabama fifty years ago. But now the question is, how will leadership in the church respond to irrefutable evidence of a system in which racism cannot be ignored or absolved.
If today’s epistle reminded us that the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” well then how can I avoid the demand that I love other peoples’ children as much as I love my own?
I can but pray that you will support me, challenge me, educate me, and serve Christ with me, as I strive to live up to this part of my calling as your bishop.
Meanwhile, Aesop’s eagle and God’s holy dove vie for our hearts. Listen to this voice: “You are my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” This, my friends, is not the voice of Aesop’s fable, telling us not to aspire to something more than we are. This is the voice of the Gospel. This is God’s own voice, telling Jesus, telling Absalom, telling our nation, telling the church, telling me and telling you not to settle for anything less than who we truly are.
May we never cease to aspire, to inquire, to inspire, to know our hearts on fire; in Jesus’ Name.