“Sometimes Orthodoxy Isn’t Enough”

Luke 7:11-17

Some quotes to consider as the sermon winds its way to its end: From Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.” From Collier Harvey, retired Executive Presbyter: “Business as usual is out of business.” [and] “We are in danger of making strict adherence to the Book of Order our new test of orthodoxy.” From old Nike ads: “Just do it!” [and] “Sometimes you have to break the rules.”

A confession: The original working title of this sermon was “Orthodoxy is Overrated.” What is orthodoxy, or what does it mean to be orthodox? From the religious perspective one is orthodox when one adheres to the accepted and traditional faith. From the secular perspective one is orthodox if one adheres to what is commonly accepted, customary, or traditional. From the thesaurus, synonyms for orthox include: received, sanctioned, time-honored, conformist, conventional, traditional. All that’s good - until it gets in the way of the Gospel.

Before moving on let’s deal with the term orthopraxis. Orthopraxis is essentially correct practice or lifestyle. An example from my own life and ministry: Within a month of my ordination I was asked by a church family to baptize a dying relative and hear his profession of faith. The Book of Order is quite clear that an elder must accompany the pastor whenever he or she conducts a baptism outside the normal confines of a worship service. I understood that. I believed that. I had implicitly vowed to obey that.

Problem: time was short and no elder was available. I grabbed a deacon, went to the hospital, and baptized the man anyway. In terms of orthodoxy I broke a rather important rule. In terms of orthopraxis, I have always believed deep in my heart that I did the right thing. I placed pastoral care and human need ahead of the Book of Order. I would have been a lousy pastor if I hadn’t.

Jesus was not always orthodox as orthodoxy was defined by the religious leaders of first century Judea. He was always breaking the rules, especially those that placed rule-keeping ahead of human need, as in healing on the Sabbath. But in terms of God’s will and the spirit of God’s law Jesus’ orthopraxy was dead on target: he lived and practiced God’s will.

In today’s text Jesus doesn’t break any rules. He does come close. He touched the bier upon which the widow’s dead son lay. Thus he came close to touching a dead body which would have rendered him unclean. The important thing to remember is not whether Jesus did or didn’t break a rule. What’s important to remember are these words from verse 13: “When the Lord saw her [the widow], he had compassion for her…”

And if anyone ever needed compassion it was that widow. Her son was dead. He child had died. That in itself was heartbreaking enough. But he was her only son. Culturally his death left her a non-person. She had no property or wealth. She had no way to earn a living. Her husband was dead. This made her son financially and otherwise responsible for her. With him gone she was now without financial security or social standing.

Jesus was aware of that. He knew the rules. He himself, as he was dying on the cross, asked John to care for his mother. It’s interesting that he didn’t say something right then and there about the great injustice of the situation, that he didn’t demand moral and ethical reforms. He could have done that – or preached a sermon or led a Bible study: all things we modern pastors would be tempted to do.

But instead of lecturing those around him on the need to change the rules he went above and beyond any and all rules. He broke a natural law, or more appropriately he transcended it. He raised the young man from the dead. He gave that widow back her son.

Nobody, including the widow, asked Jesus to do what he did. He just did it! He modeled God’s compassion in the face of the widow’s suffering and used God’s power to end it. In return he received no honorarium. He did what he did for free, acting solely from the perspective of God’s grace.

As we move further into the twenty-first century it is becoming more and more obvious that if our denomination is to survive, we’re either going to have to change some of the rules or break them. If in the name of Jesus we are to exercise the compassion and power of God in life-giving ways, then some things are going to have to change.

The good news for us at Grace is that we are already changing some of the rules. In a denomination that is 96% white the majority of our membership is made up of people of color: a bunch of Cameroonians, some Nigerians, a Pakistani family, some African-Americans, two Hispanic children who have been adopted by members, a Hawaiian, and a Filipino. This is definitely not your typical white-bread, born in the USA congregation.

Being the pastor here isn’t always easy, but it’s never boring. I’ve had to change the way I do things. One of those changes has been the removal of four words from my vocabulary: “I don’t do that.” I’ve had to learn to be more flexible in terms of time, coming by necessity to understand what the term African Time means.

Why have I been willing to make changes in my style of ministry? One: If I hadn’t my ministry here would have imploded. Two: Pastoral ministry isn’t about me; it’s about you. And above all Jesus. Three: I have a very good role model; his name is Jesus. Beyond all that is the reality that I am much more mellow than I used to be. Change doesn’t freak me out like it once did. I’m more willing to go with the flow, especially when it is obvious that the flow is being directed by the Holy Spirit.

I sincerely believe that foolish consistency really is the hobgoblin of small minds, and that business as usual is out of business. Sometimes I simply just have to do whatever needs doing even if the doing involves breaking some rules. As I told you almost six years ago in the first sermon I ever preached as your Designated Pastor-elect, loving, compassionate pastoral care will always trump church polity and theological orthodoxy, or, for that matter, political correctness.

All that’s the good news. While there is no horribly bad news, there are some cautionary flags that must be raised. Although the median age of this congregation is somewhat lower than sixty - our denominational median - it’s still higher than that of our society. Reaching the oncoming generations will entail a lot of change. If we aren’t willing to change, maybe radically, we risk dying: business as usual is out of business. We cannot allow ourselves to become small-minded to the point of maintaining a stubborn, ridiculously foolish ecclesiastical consistency. Our answer to those beyond our walls who don’t know Jesus must never be a consistent barrage of “we don’t do that.”

A word to my brothers and sisters from Cameroon: I love you. I like what you have brought into my life and the life of this church. I would never ask you to abandon your culture and heritage. But you are now members of the Presbyterian Church (USA) not the Presbyterian Church of Cameroon. Just because you did things in a particular way in Cameroon doesn’t mean that you have to continue doing them that way here. And to the dear ladies of the CWF: I hope to one day see PC(USA) instead of PCC on your uniforms. Such changes are hard but we all have to make them in one form or another.

I know that firsthand. I refer to myself as an Appalachian-American – that terminology being code for “hillbilly.” I am proud of my heritage and celebrate my roots. I will be a hillbilly till the day I die. But I’m not back up in the hills anymore. I live and do ministry in the cosmopolitan context of greater Washington, D.C. I’m the pastor of a most definitely non-hillbilly church. What worked there doesn’t always work here. There are times when I have to put my good-ol’-boy persona on the back burner.

Do I want to? Not really. But if I am going to be the pastor of this church I have no choice. If I am going to exercise, model, and teach the loving compassion of Jesus in this place it’s simply something I have to do. In this I have another good role model: his name is Paul, as in the Apostle – the one who was willing to be all things to all people for the sake of the Gospel.

Every day each of us is confronted with life and death situations that demand Christ-like compassion, that demand healing, life-giving forms of ministry. Sometimes such ministry involves going against the grain of social or theological forms of orthodoxy. Sometimes we have to forget the rules. Jesus did. Peter did. Paul did. Who are we to not do so?

“When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her…” Amen.