I have been a part of the governance
of the church as some level since I was 15; I was selected by my rector as the
first youth representative to the vestry of the parish. From that moment on, I
have been told countless times that the youth are the future of the church. In
fact I am still told fifteen years later, as an ordained priest, that I, as a
youth, am the future of the church. What can I say; it’s an old church. The
first time that someone said it, the phrase was empowering. I felt supported
and included in the working of the church. As I have gone along, and heard
every single variant of this phrase that you can imagine, I began to be
troubled by it. I have come to a point in these latter days where I dislike the
phrase intensely. Don’t get me wrong, young people are great. Much of my
ministry has been in their midst and I have been immensely enriched by them.
They are an integral part of the body of Christ. But they are not the Church’s
future. That position is already filled. Christ is the churches past, present
and future.
As the Church bless the paschal
candle at the beginning of the Great Vigil of Easter, the celebrant marks the
paschal candle with a cross, Alpha, Omega and year and says “Christ Yesterday,
Christ today, the Beginning and the end the Alpha and the omega to him belongs
time and the ages to Him be Glory and Empire throughout all ages of Eternity
Amen.” This acclimation of the Kingship of the Risen Christ is for all time
begins the celebration of the Resurrection when it is still dark. In the midst
of the cloying dark we assert that Jesus is the lord of all time, the past
present and future. Better him than me. If the future were really left up to
me, I would weep for the fate of the world. No body wants me in charge of the
future, most especially me. Youth, Young People, Those Damn Kids – what ever
you call them – aren’t going to save the church; Christ is. We are not, cannot
be savior. The position is filled. We can be only what we are, laborers in
God’s vineyard, recipients of the grace of a merciful, faithful God, and heirs
of a Kingdom we have no earthly right to.
The Episcopal Church just finished
its triennial General Convention in Indianapolis. Having been a deputy to the
House of Deputies I can tell you that it is thankless, sleepless, mostly
delirious work, and I was left wondering whether what I did meant anything at
all. I loved it and wanted to be there this time. There are many reports of
what happened there. Some say it was a bold step forward, some, such as this
commentator for the WSJ say that it was more of the decadent death of a church
that has lost Jesus. Neither is true. We can’t know what happened in
Indianapolis because it is more complex than an op-ed, and takes far longer to
unfold than that machination of any one person. I met a priest once who
suggested that it was possible that the Anglican expression of Christianity was
only supposed to last 500 years, that it could only make it for so much longer,
maybe 25 years. I didn’t like to hear that, because it made the work that I
have been called to sound futile. As I have had time to chew on those words,
let them get past my defenses, I have come to think that whether or not
Anglicanism and the Episcopal Church survive is up to God. If we as a church
have run our course, then God’s will be done. But, if we have not, then there
is no power on earth that can really make it over. I cannot worry about the
future, that is Christ’s domain. I can choose for Christ, to continue what has
been started in me.
