Osler's Razor

What a week! Speaking in Washington, a little lobbying with the ace help of Clay Harris, a death penalty lecture in Mechanicsville, and then I gave this sermon today at Holy Comforter in Richmond, Virginia (more or less-- I varied a lot from the text I prepared, and couldn't remember all of it):

It's good to be home-- this is one of my homes, and such an honor to be back. I also have the pleasure of worshipping beside Mrs. Jane Smith, who played a role in sending me here. Four decades ago, I lived at 67 Colonial Rd., and she lived at 81 Colonial Rd. with her wonderful husband Bill. I would go to their house, knock on the door, and demand a book. Mrs. Smith would bring me one, and I would sit on their porch and read it. When I finished, she would bring me another. When I was hungry, she would bring me an apple. If I was thirsty, she brought me water. I don't know why I thought that this was appropriate behavior.

Then, three decades ago, she convinced me to attend her alma mater, William and Mary, and there I met Craig Anderson, who brought me here, and thus this is all her fault, really.

Now I live in Minnesota, and worship at a wonderful church called St. Stephens. There is a river that flows around the back and side of that church with a delightful name: Minnehaha Creek. That is where we do baptisms. The Rector stands in the creek in his robes, the cool water coursing by his feet, and takes an infant into his arms and baptizes her with that same cool water. We sit on the grassy bank and watch, a gentle army.

At the bottom of the creek, in exactly that spot, is a floor of smooth pebbles. The water rushing by has rubbed off the rough edges, bit by bit, day by day. If you hold one in your hand, they can be like silk. The pebbles have been transformed by that water, into something new.

Today's reading from Acts [10:44-48] shows Peter similarly transformed. He had been a naive, sometimes goofy but always spirit-filled follower of Christ in the Gospels, but now he is something different: Bold and strong and righteous. The debate before him was whether or not Gentiles should be baptized-- some felt they were unworthy because they had not complied with the rules on circumcision and other requirements of Leviticus and other parts of the Torah.

The Bible tells us, first, that the Holy Spirit fell upon the crowd. Next, Peter makes a stunning, bold, profound statement: "Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?" And then... and then... he orders that they, the different, be baptized.

Just as in John 8, where we see Jesus telling the executioners that they don't have the moral authority to stone the adulteress, here Peter commands that we mere mortals do not have the moral authority to withhold a sacrament from those who share the joy of the Holy Spirit with us. What is the water we withhold? The love of God? The presence of the Holy Spirit? That water that flows over us, rounding off the rough parts and making us whole? What arrogance to think that we could do so! It is as likely as holding back Minnehaha Creek after the rain, so that some pebbles will not get wet. I say this to those who would withhold to some the water of baptism, the joy of worship, the honor of ministry, or the bonds of marriage-- you are less strong than the water, which will flow around you, find its path, and erode each of the walls you erect.

When I checked into my hotel here in Richmond, the desk clerk asked why I was in town. I said to talk about the death penalty, and to give a sermon. She then asked me "and what about gay marriage?"

"What about it?" I responded.

"It's destructive," she said, shaking her head.

"Destructive? Of what?" She didn't answer.

I do know what is destructive, and that is withholding the water of love, to our brothers and sisters and children and friends. I have seen the rage in those who have felt that rejection, and witnessed their tears as well, water from within, flowing like the creek.

But... the walls are wearing away.

They are wearing away because we are as wet as those pebbles in the creek, we are drenched, we are beloved, each one of us, and none of us can stop the water. To those who would deny the water to those who thirst, I offer the truth of the Bible, the boldness of Peter, and the redeeming power of that gentle creek that makes us all into something better and new.