In the beginning was the Word

 

 

Note: This sermon was preached extemporaneously. I had just learned about the death of Desmond Tutu and felt called to preach this sermon instead of the one I had carefully prepared. It is reconstructed mostly as I recall saying it. 

 

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Georgetown, DE

on Facebook Live Sirach 26:10. 

Christmas I - December 26, 2021 

You can watch and listen to the service here 

 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.

 

Yes, I have a sermon all written out.

 

It’s up there. In the pulpit.

 

That’s not what I want to preach on this morning. I’ve changed my mind. Two things caused that to happen.

 

The first is what inspired the first sermon. It’s the first sentence of The Greatest Story Ever Told by John: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

The second is what caused me to hear it in a new way. I don’t know if you have heard by Archbishop Desmond Tutu died some time last night. He has been battling prostate cancer since 1997.

 

If ever there was anyone who embodied The Word that was with God from the beginning and the Word that was God, it was Desmond Tutu.

 

I had the enormous privilege of meeting Bishop Tutu. Twice. I want to tell you the story of those two meetings.

 

The first was when I met him in D.C. in The National Cathedral at the consecration of Frank Tracey Griswold as the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church.

It was 1986. I had just finished the Dreaded G.O.E.s (General Ordination Exams) and my bishop said, Look, you need a bit of a break. I’m going to send you train tickets to DC so you can be at the consecration of the new PB. Part of being a priest is knowing how to network. Go. See people. Meet people. Network.

 

I thought, Yeah, sure. I’m exhausted! I’m going to go and put my feet up on the train and sleep on the way there and back.

 

The consecration was wonderful and powerful. There were lots of church dignitaries there, including Desmond Tutu. The word was that he and his family had been whisked away from South Africa because there had been so many threats on his life.

 

Afterward, there was a great reception at the Westin Hotel, about 2 miles from the Cathedral. I had on my proper Episcopal pumps. Of course I did. Let me tell you, walking 2 miles in proper Episcopal pumps is more painful than taking GOEs.

 

I was one of the first ones at the hotel ballroom – it was vast – and I scoped out private corner over by the Exit Sign. No networking for me. I just wanted a place where I could put my feet up and people watch.

 

I hadn’t been seated very long when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to find a very short, very black man in a purple shirt. “May I join you, please?” 

 

Yes, it was Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Himself. I later realized that his security guards had probably chosen that table precisely because it was near the Exit. I suppose it was a good plan, just in case they needed to make a hasty departure.

 

Introductions were made – he said, “Just call me Desmond.” Oh, sure… dddddDesmond.

And then, someone brought him over a bowl of ice cream – a scoop each of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate. “They must know that I love ice cream,” he said, and then invited me to share some with him.

 

“Oh, no thank you,” I said. 

 

“No, please,” he said, “have the chocolate.” 

 

“No thank you,” I repeated.” 

 

“Really,” he said, “have the chocolate.” 

 

After a few minutes of this back and forth I looked at him, smiled and said, “You don’t like chocolate, do you?” 

 

He looked rather sheepish as he said, “No, no I don’t.” 

 

And we laughed and laughed and laughed.

 

He asked me why I was there. I told him the story of my bishop and the GOEs. He said that, at that time, women were not allowed to be ordained, “But, it will happen,” he said, forcefully. “It is a matter of justice.”

 

He wanted to know about the GOEs. I told him all about the seven days of torture. I said my least favorite part was the last set which was 100 fill in the black questions. The first 10 questions were, “Name the 10 Commandments.”

 

I was furious. This was a test for fitness for ordination, not confirmation. Even so I dutifully filled in every blank. The eleventh question pushed me over the edge. It was, “Who was the mother of St. Augustine of Hippo?”

 

Now, I went to Roman Catholic School. Of course I knew the mother of St. Augustine of Hippo. I knew LOTS of saints. And, of course I knew that MONICA was the mother of St. Augustine.

 

Could I remember that there, in that particular moment in time?

 

No. No I could not. So, in my fury, I wrote down, “The mother of St. Augustine of Hippo was . . . .MRS. Augustine of Hippo.”

 

Well, Archbishop Tutu simply fell out laughing. He thoroughly enjoyed the story. When he came up for air he said, “My church in Johannesburg is St. Augustine of Hippo.”

 

Later, when I asked him to sign my service bulletin from the consecration, he signed it +Desmond, of Johannesburg. I had the service bulletin framed and it has hung in every office I’ve ever had in the church.

 

It was about 1999 or 2000 when my daughter, who was working at NYU called me and said, “Mom! NYU is giving an award to Desmond Tutu for his work on the Truth and Justice Commission. I can get you in if you like. Wanna come?”

 

I was on the next train from NJ to NYC.

 

When I walked into the reception room, it was hard not to notice that it was filled with dignitaries. I looked for a small Black man with a purple shirt. There he was – center of the room and to the left, talking with Hillary Clinton.

 

As I made my way toward him, he spotted me, smiled broadly, pointed his finger at me and said excitedly and loudly, “Mrs. Augustine of Hippo!” He threw out his arms and I threw out my arms and he hugged me for a long, long time. I was ecstatic!

 

I said to him, “How are you? I’ve heard that you were diagnosed with prostate cancer. And then I heard you were having radiation treatments. And THEN I heard you were chairing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. WHEW! Are you crazy?”

 

He said, “Yes, of course I am crazy. But, do you know my President? Nelson Mandela? Yes, well, my President asked me to chair the Commission. I said no, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I said, Mr. President, I am the wrong person for the job.”

 

My President, President Mandela, asked “What makes you say that?”

 

I said, “My President, I laugh too easily. I cry too easily. I am weak. I am not the person to lead anything.”

 

And, my President, President Mandela said, “This is why you are perfect to lead the Commission. Because you laugh too easily, you know the absurdity of Truth. Because you cry to easily, you have suffered for the sake of love. And, if you know your weakness, then you know the power of God.”

 

“So, this is what qualifies you for the job: You know the absurdity of Truth, you have suffered for the sake of love and you know the power of God. If you know those three things, anyone can be a servant leader.”

 

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the word was God.

 

And that Word was Jesus. And Jesus is in each one of us. And Jesus makes us servant leaders. If you know the absurdity of truth, if you have suffered for love and if you know the power of God, you, too, are a servant leader of Christ.

 

No, not any one of us can be the kind of servant leader of the caliber of Desmond Tutu. There are only a few of those who come into our lives in our lifetime. But, we can be the best we can be. We can allow the Word to become incarnate in us.

 

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the word was God.

 

And  the Word of God was Jesus. And, because of Jesus, Desmond Tutu became another word for God.

 

Amen.