Bishop calls us to consider
who we are and will be

Mr. President, distinguished guests at this gathering, and fellow workers in the fields of this part of God’s Vineyard, I greet you on the occasion of the Nineteenth Annual Convention of the Diocese of East Tennessee. It is my honor once again to address you at Convention as your Bishop. Indeed, this is my fifth address to this august body! I will file with the Convention Secretary my official acts as Bishop in 2002. However, I will refrain from reading that material to you, for I cling to the hope that at least a few of you will still be awake at the end of this talk.

I am delighted to welcome with you several special guests. Bishop Ron Warren is my Lutheran counterpart in East Tennessee. However, as Bishop for the Southeastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Bishop Warren has four states in his jurisdiction. Therefore, he actually has eight Episcopal Bishops as his counterparts! Bishop Warren plans to arrive later today, and he will be our preacher at the Sunday Eucharist.

Bishop Onell Soto also is a guest of ours. He has served as Bishop of Venezuela, Assistant Bishop of Atlanta, and Assistant Bishop of Alabama. Now he is semi-retired in Southeast Florida. Actually, though, he had planned to be on his way to Cyprus on Monday, before it became a bit too dangerous! Thus, he continues to be a busy man. Bishop Soto will lead workshops on Hispanic ministry later today.

Mr. Ike Swan from South Dakota had planned to be with us, but the death of his sister prevented him from being here. Ike serves as Director of the Thunderhead Episcopal Center in our companion diocese of South Dakota. That center will be the site of the Niobrara Convocation this June, and I hope that many of us will gather for that occasion with our brothers and sisters in South Dakota. Although we are disappointed that Ike cannot be with us at convention, we are making plans for him to come to East Tennessee in May and to share with us his own ideas and experience of Native American spirituality.

Also, we are delighted to issue a word of appreciation and recognition to our retired bishops in East Tennessee, William Sanders and Robert Tharp. I am blessed to be able to share in Episcopal ministry with these two fine servants of our Lord and to benefit from their counsel and their examples.

Next, I want to offer my thanks to some other important people in the life of our Diocese. Indeed, without their help, most of what we have done as a diocese in the past year to the glory of God would not have been accomplished — or, at least, not nearly so effectively. I will begin by recognizing my staff, and I will ask each person to stand when mentioned by name … and to remain standing, please. Lynn Lazlo, Carolyn Dicer, Mary Berl, Barbara Reed, Rosemary Davenport, Alice Clayton, Tami Dyke, Amy Morehous and David Smart. In addition, two other people serve in diocesan ministries and qualify as staff members: Bo Lewis, Vicar of Grace Point, and Chris Chase, Canon for Ministry in Higher Education. Finally, it gives me much pleasure to introduce the newest members of diocesan staff: Sharon Rasmussen, who is our brand-new Communications Officer, and Rick Govan, who will join us soon as we seek to emphasize and coordinate Lay Ministry development. Please join me in thanking these fine folks for the work they do on behalf of us all. It is indeed my honor and privilege to share in the work of diocesan ministry with these dedicated servants of our Lord.

Let me add my word of assurance that we intend to do a more thorough job of introducing these people in the “East Tennessee Episcopalian.” The configurations of our staff — as well as the people themselves — have changed rather significantly in the past year. If we are to do our primary job well — that is, to serve the diocese — then the diocese needs to know better who we are.

Thanks, also, to so many others of you who work in various ways on behalf of the Lord we acclaim and the diocese we are blessed to call our own. I am grateful for those who serve on our canonical committees and commissions, to insure the order and viability of our life as a diocese. In particular, members of Bishop and Council, the Standing Committee, and the Commission on Ministry have once again this year provided wonderful leadership for all of us. In addition, highlighted at this convention will be other groups whose work has been timely and challenging this year — especially, the Committee on Constitution and Canons, the Grow in Mission Steering Committee, the Companion Diocese Committee, the Appalachian Ministries Committee and the Jubilee Ministry Committee. Thanks to all of you and others who fulfill the ministry of our Baptismal Covenant so faithfully and so well.

As we come together this year, we gather in a time of uncertainty, for our nation and for the world. War looms ever larger on the horizon. We find ourselves bound by our identity as Americans but separated by our opinions of how to be Americans in today's world. Also, changes in our national life since September 11, 2001, have been profound, and I suspect we will not recognize the extent of those changes for years to come. For instance, finances for individuals, churches, businesses and nations are troublesome and provoke uncertainty and even a degree of fearfulness. Uncertainty and fear also characterize some responses to the Columbia shuttle tragedy last week. We continue to pray for those who lost their lives and for their families. Indeed, these are precisely the times that call us to examine our priorities and to live in faith rather than in fear. In my prayers, I continue to give thanks for opportunities to be faithful in our own day. And I encourage you to join me in that prayer.

Now, I intend to spend the rest of my allotted time sharing with you some new perspectives I have gained about our diocese during the past year. I believe that the most important thing for me to do in my Annual Address is to recognize and to thank people with whom I am blessed to serve in the Diocese of East Tennessee. However, having done that, I want to offer you several things to consider about our particular time and place in history.

For the past three years, leaders in our Diocese have been envisioning some special hopes for the future. And at the current time, we are trying to provide the resources to make those hopes and visions become realities. Goals for the Grow in Mission Campaign are to enhance our ministries on college campuses, to support our seminary students, and to develop Grace Point Camp and Retreat Center. This effort represents only the second capital funds drive in the history of our diocese, the first one being some seventeen years ago. And believe me, in the life of the Episcopal Church, two diocesan capital campaigns in seventeen years is quite infrequent indeed!

Something I learned a long time ago has become clear once again to me. When we ask people for money, the people who are asked reveal things about themselves. Being asked for money has that kind of effect on us somehow. Sometimes the revelations are conscious and intended … but often they are unconscious and unintended. Let me offer you two examples of what I mean.

In the 1980s, I worked with an experienced clergy person. He told me about something that had happened to him previously in his parish ministry. A friend of his, who was a parishioner, always seemed to pick a fight with this clergyman in September. Then, when the Every Member Canvass came along, the parishioner would justify his low pledge by pointing to the disagreement he currently had with the rector. After three years of this recurring pattern, the rector visited the parishioner the next August. His message was simple. He said, “We are not going to ask you for more money this year. In fact, we are not going to ask you for any money at all. If you want to pledge to the church, you’ll have to come to the office and do it yourself. And you and I are not going to fight this year!” That confrontation ended the parishioner’s yearly pattern of unhealthy behavior … behavior that exhibited an uncomplimentary self-revelation.

Now, here is a second example of the phenomenon of self-revelation in response to a financial request. I served as rector of a parish years ago, and during my time there, we embarked on a capital funds drive. I was fairly young at the time, and I was new at the job of such special fund raising. Our parish consultant gave me names of some people to visit, and I also had particular amounts to request as pledges from those people. A widow in the congregation was on my list, and I thought that the amount suggested was far too high. However, I was young and inexperienced, and so I went ahead and tried to do my job. I met with this lady in her living room, and I mentioned the pledge amount that had been suggested, giving her every opportunity to turn me down. She looked at me for a few moments after I had struggled with what I had to say. And then she replied, “You know, I was thinking of a pledge three times that size!” This lady became the largest contributor to our campaign. And her generosity — in kindness and in finances — humbles me to this day.

When asked for money, people — including ourselves — reveal some things about ourselves. And, as we have begun asking the people of East Tennessee for money to support Grow in Mission, we have learned some things about Episcopalians in this part of the world. I have appreciated many opportunities to get to know you, the people of East Tennessee, better. In particular, as we have asked for money, this has been a time of revelation, and I have tried to pay attention. And I hope you will pay attention now to several observations I want to offer you about our Diocese.

In the first place, it has become clear to me that we have an identity problem in East Tennessee. Our part of the state does not relate very well to the other areas. Ramifications of our separate distinctiveness can be seen in our history, in our culture, in our politics and in our economics. The same regional distinction can be made in terms of religion, it seems to me. For example, I suspect that when the diocese included the entire state, East Tennessee had some problems relating to the other areas. Further, as a rather young diocese, East Tennessee really does not have much of an historical identity yet.

Thus, one understanding that has been revealed to me in our current fund-raising effort is that we have something of an identity problem in our diocese. This learning, though, has a side to it which is very positive indeed. That is, in the Grow in Mission Campaign, we have the opportunity to shape the identity of the Diocese of East Tennessee. This campaign involves a great deal more than raising money for particular causes. In fact, it deals with who we are and who we will be as a diocese.

Also, as we ask for money, I have learned some things about our priorities in East Tennessee. Three of these priorities seem quite clear to me now. We care more about transforming lives than about constructing buildings. We care more about helping others than about helping ourselves. And we care more about envisioning the future than about remembering the past. Put another way, the priorities that you have shared with me are these: lives, more than buildings; reaching out, more than reaching in; and looking forward, more than looking backward.

I believe that the goals of Grow in Mission are completely consistent with those East Tennessee priorities. However, I am less certain that we have made that case very effectively. That is to say, some people among us have understood our campaign’s goals to emphasize helping ourselves and constructing buildings. Thus, we need to say more clearly what is the truth. As we insure support for college students and seminarians and as we design the program and facilities at Grace Point, our primary goals — our underlying reasons for the campaign — are to transform lives, to help others and to provide hope for the future.

One day long ago, Jesus told this parable:

“Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundred-fold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!” (Matthew 13:3b-9)

In that parable, Jesus does not criticize the sower because of his extravagance with the seed. Jesus does not say that the sower should have spread the seed only in good ground that would give the best prospect for growth. Rather, the sower spread the seed around everywhere, in hopes that some would eventually bear fruit.

So it is with campus ministry. We want our chaplains and those who work with them to spread the seeds of acceptance, enthusiasm, support and love far and wide. We do not expect every seed to bear fruit. But we do want there to be sufficient seeds that some may fall on ground that is fertile, and those seeds will develop and grow.

I suggest to you, therefore, that the Parable of the Sower is a parable of campus ministry. In the Diocese of East Tennessee, we are involved in campus ministry primarily and fundamentally to transform lives, to help others and to offer reasons for hope in the future.

A biblical image for seminary education did not come so easily to me. I considered several other parables: the Pearl of Great Price, the Tares and the Wheat, the Rich Young Ruler. But none seemed quite right. I also thought of the story of the Garden of Eden, but I didn’t like where that idea led me.

Then I began to think of biblical journeys, for seminary education itself surely is part of that tradition. And I remembered two disciples who were running away from the tragic events of Good Friday in Jerusalem. They encountered a stranger on the road to Emmaus — a perceptive and knowledgeable stranger, who shared the time and the road and later, a meal with them. Just before the stranger left them, the disciples realized who he was. And afterward, with joy and amazement, one disciple said to the other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32). Then those disciples went back to Jerusalem, the place from which they had fled, and they shared their story with those who needed to hear it.

Seminary education also is a journey — a journey like the road to Emmaus. As the Diocese of East Tennessee supports seminary students, we proclaim that we are in the business of transforming lives, of helping others and of offering hope for the future.

One day in early January, I was reading the Daily Office. And I was startled by the familiar promise of God to God’s servant Moses. Remember that Moses saw a burning bush. He turned aside to look at this strange sight, and God encountered him there. God spoke words of understanding about the people’s plight. And then God promised Moses a new place for the people … a Promised Land, as it became known. God said, “I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey…” (Exodus 3:8).

What startled me on that early January morning was not so much the words, which were familiar. Rather, I was startled by a new awareness. My training from Sunday School to seminary had always centered on the importance of the land — the Promised Land. Yet, the land really is only a symbol, an indication of the relationship between God and God’s people, the promise made within the context of that relationship. Thus, the relationship is far more significant than the land. And I began to wonder: What if the people of that troubled land today could get that idea right. What if they could understand that the relationship with God was prior to the land, and the relationship gives the land any meaning that it possesses, any promise that it offers. And what if the people of that place could understand that by overemphasizing the land — the symbol — they run the risk of losing that which contains the value of most significance: their relationship with God.

Thus, I offer you today a new perspective on our “promised land,” Grace Point. That surely is a wonderful place - “a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.” But the highest value is not intrinsic to the land itself. The program that develops and the facilities that are built there are only means to a greater good. Make no mistake about this, my friends. The greater good of Grace Point — the only reasons that make sense in having that place — involve our commitment to transform lives for the sake of Jesus Christ, our intention to help others in Christ’s name, and our commitment to offer hope for the future in a world filled with hopelessness.

In conclusion, then, I am grateful for so very much about our life together in the Diocese of East Tennessee. The people and places of this diocese, the calls we have in common, our shared ministry and mission — these offer me strength and give life to my days. My gratitude is profound indeed for the chances and situations I have in which to share a variety of experiences with you in the life of the Church we love. I give thanks to God for you — for who you are and for what you do in the name of Jesus Christ. I give thanks, also, for the opportunities that have presented themselves to us in our day. By our responses to those opportunities, I pray that we will spread far and wide the seeds of Christ’s love; that we will walk ever more closely with our Lord; and that we will be good stewards of the promises given to us in our day. Through it all, may we take seriously the opportunities of our day, and, with faithfulness to our Lord, may we shape the future of this diocese, for Christ’s sake.