Chad of Lichfield and the Cycle of Gospel Living

I found this sermon I preached ten years ago today. I think it still holds up. JH

--

homily preached at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Bellingham, WA
by the Rev. Josh Hosler
The Feast of St. Chad of Lichfield, March 2, 2016

Today’s colorful character in Christian history is Chad of Lichfield, the seventh-century Celtic Bishop of York who very suddenly found himself no longer a bishop. An astute and exacting new Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore, accused Chad of having been ordained irregularly. It seems that Chad had had hands laid on him by bishops who themselves had not been canonically ordained. In other words, it was clear to Theodore that these ordaining bishops, having been raised up in such a far-flung place, were not part of the apostolic succession dating back to the original apostles.

Now, we might expect an important person like a bishop to be indignant about this revelation. We might imagine Chad muttering under his breath about his by-the-book archbishop, having the nerve to question Chad’s God-given call to ordained ministry, gumming up the works with all this bureaucracy instead of just letting Chad do the work he had obviously been called to do! We might imagine this, as doubtless many of us can think of parallels to this situation in our own lives.

But this was not Chad’s reaction. Rather, Chad immediately abdicated his position, saying, “Indeed, I never believed myself worthy of it.”

How does this sit with you? Does this sound honorable? Or does it sound like an inferiority complex?

Either reaction is perfectly understandable. But Archbishop Theodore’s response was surprising. Struck to the heart by Chad’s humility, Theodore immediately arranged for Chad’s re-ordination under the hands of a proper set of bishops. And then, rather than returning him to York, Theodore made Chad bishop of Mercia and Northumbria.

Now, in his old diocese, Chad used to visit his various parishes on foot, taking long, tiring journeys to do so. In his new position, Chad resumed this practice, despite having even greater distances to cover. It seems he found it important to show humility by walking rather than riding a horse. But Archbishop Theodore is said to have overruled Chad’s humility by bodily lifting Chad onto a horse, “determined to compel him to ride when the need arose.”

There’s something to be said for humility, and for respect for due process and appropriate channels of power and oversight. Episcopal clergy answer to a bishop, and I’m very happy to answer to one I respect and admire very much. This makes humility much easier! And this manner of life isn’t just for clergy: indeed, I think that abdicating power, or even just sharing power with others, is at the heart of being a Christian.

Episcopal priest, author, and speaker Eric Law has studied the dynamics of power for many years, especially in relation to issues of race. In one of his anti-racism training modules, Law describes what he calls the “cycle of gospel living.” In such a situation, those who have power willingly give it up—the equivalent, in the Christian life, of taking up the cross. At the opposite end of the cycle are the powerless, who gain power through suffering and endurance, but also as the humble powerful willingly hand power over to them. In true Christian community, nobody remains all-powerful, and nobody remains powerless; rather, we all dance together in this cycle of abdicating power and then taking up power, only to surrender it again.

Chad of Lichfield was given power through ordination, but he didn’t cling to it. When his status as a bishop was called into question, he surrendered his power, knowing full well that he hadn’t become powerful under his own steam. Chad’s power was granted by God and by the people who trusted him. If the people didn’t trust him, Chad’s power would become destructive.

But it’s not always easy to identify every aspect of the power dynamics. In a given situation, who is truly powerful? For instance, in the Episcopal Church, we have felt a tug these days between following due process to stay in communion with other Anglican churches, and following our heart for justice in order to honor people who are in same-sex relationships. In most of the world, gay people are severely oppressed, but in the United States they are just now finding themselves able to emerge into the light. They are taking up power, granted through endurance and patience, as the culture has finally begun to shift.

Meanwhile, in other places in the Anglican Communion, homosexuality is not well understood, especially when held against a traditional faith that has not yet made room for them. Most Anglicans in power in these places are against the death penalty for homosexuals, but they certainly would not honor even a monogamous gay relationship, because they feel it is not compatible with Christianity as they understand it.

It would seem that we could all just do our separate practices in separate places in the world, if not for a different kind of power dynamics at work. Compared with many other Anglican churches, the Episcopal Church is a moneyed, privileged church. When we went back on our original word and welcomed and celebrated same-sex marriage, Anglicans in other parts of the world felt that we were forcing our opinions on them. Are gay Episcopalians in the position of abdicating power, or of gaining power? The answer is, depending on who they are and where they live, both.

We want to pursue justice, and sometimes we choose to sacrifice due process for the sake of an urgent cause. But we also want to be in communion, and it can be painful to work slowly and patiently to come to agreement and understanding before proceeding.

I try to keep in mind that if I’m not the one being oppressed, it’s not up to me to set the timeline. I need to look to the oppressed for that. If they can wait, I can wait. I can stand in solidarity with those who suffer, while admitting that I’m not actually suffering myself. I may even be benefiting from the status quo! I mean, hey, who’s up here speaking right now? I didn’t become a priest on my own steam, but because of the trust bestowed on me by many people, including my bishop. And now it’s my job to share that power with others, generously. It’s my job to empower people for Christian ministry, and that can begin with you recognizing the power you already have.

For indeed, those of us in this room all have power. Different kinds of power are bestowed upon people for different reasons, rightly or wrongly: for our latent talents and practiced skills, for being a U.S. citizen, for having enough money not to go hungry, for having enough money to make decisions about how to spend it, for being white, for being male, for being an adult, for having a home and a job, for being a member of the clergy. Whether or not the power you have been granted is power you want, what do you do with it? How often do you abdicate power, and what does that look like for you? How often do you use your power to help someone other than yourself?

In your prayers over the next few days, remember Chad of Lichfield and the example he set us. Then decide wisely: How will I use my power today?