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Episcopal Church House of Bishops: Sermon from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry

March 13, 2023
Office of Public Affairs

The following is a transcript of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s sermon to the House of Bishops, which gathered in retreat March 8-13 in Nauvoo, Alabama. The remarks have been lightly edited for clarity.

We’ve Got Nowhere to Go!

Let me offer a word of reflection with the lectionary text as the background. It is the background. In the foreground, you have another text, which comes from the sixth chapter of John. And our foreground text reads as follows:

“When many of his disciples heard these teachings of Jesus, some of them said, ‘This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?’ Jesus heard that they were complaining about it and he asked them, ‘Does this offend you?’”

And then the text goes on to say, “Because of this, many of his disciples turned back and no longer went with him. So Jesus asked the Twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’

And Simon Peter answered, ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.’”

“To whom can we go?” For we don’t have anywhere to go. “You have the words to eternal life.”

Nowhere to go except Jesus. Nowhere.

Now, in the background of our text, there is the Gospel you just heard. I want to us to remember this moment. This is a comment on the lectionary text. And what I hear about this lectionary text is that folks clearly misunderstood what Jesus was saying.

It is the story of Mrs. Zebedee—James and John’s mama. And she and all of them have heard Jesus preaching about this kingdom, this reign of God. And he said, this kingdom is coming. This beloved community is coming. Thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven. It’s going to come. There’s going to be peace and brotherhood.

There’s going to be justice and compassion. A new kingdom come. And Mrs. Zebedee went up to Jesus and said, “When your kingdom comes, I want my boys to get good jobs in there.” That’s basically what was going on. She completely misunderstood what Jesus was talking about.

But in the text that is the foreground text; you see where I’m going now? They understood exactly what Jesus was talking about. Some folks wanted to make him king. Some folks say he was a prophet because he turned five loaves of bread and two pieces of fish and fed 5,0000 souls.

And they said, “We’re going to make you the king.”

And Jesus said, “No, no, no, no, don’t go there. You need to understand who I am, and what I’m about. I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will not be hungry. And whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

They said, “Oh, that’s a good text, preacher—good text.”

But then he made the mistake that preachers make; he went on to explain what the text actually means. And when he did that, some folks said, “We’re out of here.”

Other folks said, “This is a hard teaching.”

And folks started to leave.

This was the original Jesus Movement. It started out in decline.

He walked over to them. I don’t know why you are all worrying about a parochial report. It started out this way, and it’s still here today.

And so Jesus realized his folks don’t believe in him. And he says to the Twelve, “Y’all leaving also?”

And Simon Peter says, “Lord to whom will we go? You have the words of eternal life.” We don’t know about all the other stuff. We don’t know about all the other expectations. We don’t know about all the props and illusions that we live by.

Ya’ll. You see where I’m going now? “You have the words of eternal life. And we don’t know fully what it means. We don’t know exactly where we’re going, but we’re going with you. Come what may, we’re going with you because we don’t have anywhere else to go.”

I want to suggest that in those words of Jesus—and I need to say something quickly because of this text that we’re using—this text rose out of the planning committee, so blame them for having a foreground text and a background text.

But we were talking about how we, as a community of bishops, deal with the fact that we are bishops of a church that is Good Friday and Easter all at the same time. It ain’t just Good Friday. It is not just Easter. It’s death and new life all at the same time. And I’m going to tell you that sometimes at the moment when they happen, they’re almost indistinguishable. I’ve been to both of them. Been a participant observer in both of them. And I got to tell you: Neither one is pretty.

Now I took pictures when the babies were born. In fact, we got one picture of me and the doctor; of course Sharon loved it. Anyway, we take a selfie. She’ll never forgive me for that one. But the children are over 30 now so it’s all right. But the truth is at both birth and death, there’s blood, sweat, and tears. Something’s dying, and something is struggling to emerge to some kind of life. It’s hard to distinguish them from each other.

You and I have been called to be bishops, as Mordecai said to Esther, “for such a time as this.” When Good Friday and Easter are indistinguishable. And this Jesus has the truth of eternal life.

I remember at the consecration of Elizabeth Gardner in Nevada. I remember when the preacher, your former priest, Donna, used to be the chaplain at the airport in Atlanta. At one point in the sermon, she said, “Christ is coming again. The 1950s are not.”

That’s what I’m talking about. Birth and death at the same time. Good Friday and Easter, same church. And we have been called to be bishops for such a time as this. And sometimes—no, a lot of times—it’s scary as hell.

But not one of us in this room—I’ve been here for 23 years—not one of us in this room. I’m not sure there’s even one person that’s left in my class—we’ve taken the honorific title The Samuel Seabury Class—not one of us has ever been a bishop in this moment of the church’s life before. There are no experts. There’s nobody who knows how to do it. Last time I checked my Bible, Jesus said, “Wherever two or three gather in my name, I’m going to show up.”

We got nowhere else to go, but we know there’s room to go, because he’s got the word of eternal life. And we can make it. Oh, we can make it. And the moment we get to that point, Good Friday and Easter are struggling together, and only one can make it.

Some of you all may remember the movie, “An Officer and a Gentleman.” You all remember that one? But in the movie you’ll remember it’s about this guy named Mayo, and he died. He died, yeah. Anyway, Mayo grew up in a hard life. You remember his mother had committed suicide. He was raised by his daddy who liked to drink and do other things you ain’t supposed to do in church. And he raised his boy in the Philippines, and he raised him to drink and to jive. And so he learned the strategies of survival.

Now the strategies of survival can help you survive but cannot give you life. I say that as a descendant of African American slaves. Some of the coping skills and mechanisms of survival, when they get translated into a different context, no longer help you even survive, much less giving life.

He didn’t learn how to survive. He needed to survive. He could lie, he could cheat, he could steal. I want to say he could jive, but I don’t have another word for jive.

You might survive, but you will not thrive.

And so he went to Officer Candidate School. And remembering then Gunnery Sgt. Foley: Louis Gossett Jr. And those two went to war. And you remember there was a climactic moment where the gunnery sergeant was sick of Mayo and actually thought there was no more hope for him. He had caught him stealing and doing the black-market thing, and he wanted him out. I think they call it a DOR: Dropped on Request. And Sgt. Foley took him out and had him doing pushups while they hosed him down and was doing everything to get him to quit.

And he said, “I want your DOR. No, sir. I want your DOR. No, sir. I want your DOR.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I got nowhere else to go. I got nowhere else to go.”

And he melted into a puddle. And then the old gunnery sergeant looked at him, and he said, “All right; come on back to me and clean the latrine.”

It was the moment when that sergeant saw his soul, his real core, beyond the props, beyond the illusion. And he made him an officer. No, he became an officer.

We’re here this week to face some of the props and illusions that sometimes some were good, and some were not. And they may help us survive—but they’re not the keys to life. We’re going to look at some of them when we go to Montgomery tomorrow. We’re going to see some of the props and illusions behind the illusions of history as we were often taught it.

The legacy of mass murder—of genocide—on a national level in every corner of the United States. We’re going to see that. And yet the reason for seeing it is not to dwell on it, but to learn from it and find ways to not just cope but ways to live. No more props.

And remembering what the Word, the Words of eternal life say: “If you continue in my Word, you are truly my disciple, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

We’re going to remember so that we don’t repeat—so that we don’t repeat it with our trans siblings, so we don’t repeat it with wanton gun violence in city after city after city, virtually every diocese in this room.

To have learned how to lay down our swords and shields down by the riverside and study war no more. So we can learn how to stop surviving and how to live—how to live together as the children of God—as brothers, sisters, and siblings of God’s family.

We got nowhere else to go. But we know who has words of eternal life.

So I’m going to sit down in a minute. But let me invite you to the days ahead, to our discernment of bishop of Armed Forces and Federal Ministries, to our pilgrimage to Montgomery. We are here in this blessed space, blessed state. And then we will have some time to debrief together, and then time to rest with Jesus in a Sabbath—a real Sabbath.

So there’s a story—and I don’t know if it’s a true story or not. It is out of a preacher’s mouth, so it probably is and isn’t, at the same time. You may have heard this story; it’s from 19th century, and it was true, growing up, that near Niagara Falls, that people would, in the 19th century, try to walk across the falls. And this one tightrope walker said, “I’m going to walk across the falls.”

So folks came from hither and yon to see the brother walk across the falls. And so the tightrope was stretched, and the American side is a little shorter than the Canadian side. And the guy had his, you know, that pole that they have. And he said to the crowd, “Do you believe that I can walk across these falls?” Folk said, “Yeah! Yeah, we believe. We believe.” So, he took the pole, and he walked across the falls. And he came back, and everyone was applauding, saying, “Tremendous, great!”

Then he took out a wheelbarrow, and said, “Do you believe that I can walk across these falls pushing that wheelbarrow?” And they said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, go ahead, brother! Let’s see you do your thing!” And so he took the wheelbarrow, pushed the wheelbarrow across the falls, and came back. And everyone was applauding.

He said, “Do you believe that I can walk across these falls, pushing this wheelbarrow, blindfolded?” They said, “Listen, you’re the man. Go right ahead.” And so he put his blindfold on, took the wheelbarrow in his hands, pushed the wheelbarrow across, and came back, and the applause was thunderous. Folks were just going on and on.

And he said, “Do you believe?”

“Oh, we believe!”

“Do you believe?”

“Yes, we believe!”

“Do you believe I can walk across these falls, blindfolded, pushing a wheelbarrow with somebody in it?”

“Yes, we believe!”

“Do you really believe I can do that?”

“Yes, we believe!”

“Well, in a moment, we’re going to ask for volunteers.”

Do you believe in God the Father? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, his Son? Do you believe in the Holy Spirit? You’re going to say, “Yes, we believe, because it’s in the prayer book!”

Will you love your neighbor as yourself? Will you work for justice and respect the dignity of every, every, every Republican you know? Every Democrat you know? Every Independent, every Communist, every capitalist, every Muslim, every Jew, every Hindu, every atheist, and every Episcopalian on a vestry?

Will you love your neighbor and respect the dignity of every human being? Yes, we believe. The next few days are days of invitation. Because the truth is: We’ve got nowhere else to go. And only one to whom to go—the one who has the words of eternal life. And his final word is love.

God love you, God bless you, and let’s have a blessed time together. Amen.