Good morning. I’m Father Bob, the Archbishop Primate of the United Catholic Church (sort of like your Presiding Bishop). Though I’m still responsible for the worldwide activities of my church, I have retired from pastoring a local parish. And since we have none in this immediate area and are in full Communion with the Episcopal Church, my wife Maggie and I have adopted St. Marks as our church home. (We tried every Episcopal and Lutheran church in the area before finding you.) We feel at home here and hope you are comfortable with us.

Father Tom asked me to tell you a little about my church, so I shall. The United Catholic Church grew out of the Old Catholic Church, which broke with Rome in 1870 over the infallibility of the Pope.

Old Catholicism is an attempt to recover the genuine catholicity (or universality) which existed for the first millennium of Christianity, when all the Patriarchs were united and ecumenical councils represented all the bishops of Christendom.

Old Catholicism rejects all the doctrinal innovations introduced by Rome since the Great Schism of 1054. This includes, for example, papal infallibility, the Marian doctrines, the addition of the "Filioque" to the Nicene Creed, and the legalistic Council of Trent definition of transubstantiation. We reject all the "anathemas" hurled back and forth between Rome, Constantinople, and the Protestants and Anglicans. With St. Jerome, we reject the canonicity of the Deuterocanonical books (what you call the Apocrypha). So we use the same Bible you use. And since we do not require belief in doctrines lacking biblical support within the Canonical books accepted by all, many Roman concepts lose their status as dogma in our church. (People are free to believe in them, but are not required to do so.) This includes purgatory, indulgences, and prayers for the dead (supported only in the Apocrypha) as well as the Marian doctrines of the Assumption and Immaculate Conception which are completely non-Biblical.

We believe that to be a Catholic, you must first be a Christian and believe what all Christians believe. Beyond that, Catholics believe three things. We believe that the Apostolic Succession matters, that the laying on of hands connects us in an unbroken line to the Apostles and their empowerment by Jesus himself. We believe that the sacraments actually do something, that they are used by God to impart grace to those receiving them. And finally, we believe in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Now each of you, as Episcopalians, believes in these exact same things. You are therefore all Catholics, in the true meaning of the word.

Our theology, in summary, is almost identical to that of the Episcopal and Lutheran churches.

But there’s more to the United Catholic Church than just theology. Since we are an independent Catholic church, we are not subject to the Vatican’s jurisdiction and man-made rules. We have therefore returned to many of the practices of the early church which have been abandoned by Rome. One is optional celibacy. Priests and bishops are free to marry. Another is the participation of the laity and clergy in the selection of their own bishops. Like the early church, we celebrate the Eucharist in the home. In fact, the majority of our churches are home churches. And even when there is a church building, it is owned by the local parish who paid for it, not by the bishop. We have attempted to divorce the hierarchy (who don’t get paid) from money and power, and return them to being the servants of the people, as Jesus intended. Like the early church, we ordain women to all levels of the clergy. We have also embraced the pacifist tradition of the first three centuries. We preach (and hopefully practice) nonviolence.

Most importantly, we differ from Rome in philosophy or attitude. We are attempting to recover the joy of the early church. We hope that "These Christians, how they love one another" applies to us. Essential to this quest is breaking free of legalism, racism, sexism, autocracy, dogmatism, and judgmentalism.

We leave decisions on birth control to the husband and wife. We embrace the divorced and remarried. (Yes, divorce usually involves sin ... but it is not an unforgivable sin! We emphatically reject a hypocritical requirement for annulments.) We accept those whose sexual orientation differs from our own. And we don’t impose mandatory celibacy on them any more than we do our priests. We spend more time attempting to root out social injustice than we do worrying about someone’s concept of impurity. We base our social conscience on Amos and Isaiah rather than on Leviticus and Deuteronomy. In other words, we choose to follow Jesus, not the Pharisees.

And that brings us to today’s readings. By the way, as one who has spent 34 years preaching on peace and justice, today’s Gospel reading is my least favorite of all. Oh, what I could have done with last week’s readings! I love that part of Isaiah, "Seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow." Great stuff! And psalm 33, my favorite of all. "A king is not saved by his mighty army. A warrior is not saved by his great strength. A war horse is a vain hope for victory, and with its might it cannot save." I have used that passage hundreds of times preaching against nuclear idolatry, Star Wars, and inflated defense budgets.

But today? "I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." What is an old peace preacher like me supposed to do with that?

Then it dawned on me. In the Palestine of Jesus’ time, there was a peace of sorts. It was the Pax Romano, the peace of dictatorship, the peace of totalitarianism, the peace of bondage, the peace of an unjust status quo. Naturally, Jesus was not in favor of such a peace. In its place, he offered the sword of division, the sword of revolution — a revolution to set his people free.

It’s no wonder many of the disciples expected Jesus to assume the role of warrior king and to lead an armed insurrection against the Roman occupiers.

But that was not what Jesus meant. The sword he offered was a two-edged sword of truth and love. His, to the great disappointment of many of his followers, was to be a nonviolent revolution. Yet it was a revolution that brought down the Roman empire ... without (to use today’s terms) a shot being fired. Oh, it was a bloody revolution, but the only blood shed by his followers was their own.

And the revolution of Jesus was not only against the tyranny of Rome. It was against the hypocrisy and self-righteousness of the Pharisees, against the power and greed of the Levites, against the prejudice the Jews felt for half-breed, heretic Samaritans, against the marginalization of women, and against the apathy of the people. Most of all, it was a revolution against the legalism of the religious authorities, the guilt and hopelessness of the common people, and the general misconception by both of the nature of God.

Jesus freed his people, not by slaying the Romans, but by his sword of truth slaying the image of a vengeful, scorekeeping God and revealing instead a God who is infinitely loving, understanding, merciful, and forgiving.

Jesus freed his people not by slaying enemies, persecutors, and captors, but by his sword of love slaying the hatred, bitterness, and resentment in the hearts of his followers.

The gospel said Jesus came to ignite a conflagration (and how he wished it was raging already). Well, he did ignite that fire, a fire of love in the hearts of his disciples and those who came after them. This fire of love became an inferno that changed the world forever. It was fueled, not by gasoline, but by the blood of martyrs. And it put Nero’s Roman fire to shame.

The story is told about a large urban parish in one of our cities. The church was packed with perhaps two thousand people. Mass was about to begin when three men wearing long black coats and black hats came down the aisles, one in the center and one down either side. Suddenly, from under their coats, they pulled submachine guns. The man in the center aisle shouted, "Listen up, Christians! Everyone ready to take a bullet for your Jesus: stay where you are. The rest of you have one minute to clear out."

Well, the place started emptying fast. From the sanctuary, the choir loft, and the pews they streamed through every available exit. In less than a minute, they were gone. Of the two thousand people, about twenty remained, stubbornly sitting in their pews.

Then the three men threw down their guns and took off their hats and coats. The one in the center aisle said, "Alright, now that the hypocrites are gone, we can start the service."

The problem was, they couldn’t. The priest had left.

How many of us are willing to take a bullet for Jesus?

The world of today is just as much in need of the truth and love of the sword of Jesus as was the world of two thousand years ago. The world of today is just as much in need of the raging inferno of God’s love as was the world of the Roman Empire. And that fire hasn’t gone out. But in too many places it has become but a dying ember.

Every once in a while, the Holy Spirit blows on that ember and sets it once more ablaze. Every once in a while, a martyr will fuel the fire with his blood. Archbishop Oscar Romero did it. He took a bullet for Jesus as he was defending the poor against the greed and arrogance and cruelty of the aristocracy in El Salvador. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. did it. He took a bullet for Jesus as he was defending the downtrodden against the self-righteousness and hypocrisy and prejudice of the aristocracy in Alabama.

When these martyrs defended the poor and downtrodden, they were defending Jesus himself. In putting their life on the line, they were taking up their cross and following Jesus up to Calvary.

No, Jesus didn’t bring peace to the world. The martyrs of all ages attest to that. But he did bring peace to our hearts. Those who wield the sword of hatred reap a harvest of torment. Eventually their hearts turn to stone. But those who wield the sword of truth and love reap a harvest of joy. Their hearts are at peace.

Today’s reading from Paul’s letter to the Hebrews talks about people of faith. Some suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, and tormented. We must remember that for everyone flogged, someone else is doing the flogging. Someone wielded the stones, the saw, the sword. If there are persecuted, then there are also persecutors. This is the division of which Jesus speaks. The question we must face is "Which side are we on?"

The status quo of today is no more acceptable to God than that of Jesus’ time. So why are we so complacent? There are wrongs to be righted, sufferings to be alleviated, authorities to be resisted, people to be loved. Don’t let the comforts and pleasures of life harden your hearts to the needs of God’s beloved — the poor, the marginalized, the suffering. Let the Holy Spirit enter in and kindle in your hearts the fire of his love.

Then do something about it. Stand up for Christ. Be willing to take a bullet for Jesus. If we believe what we say in this service; if we take seriously what we profess; if we understand what God has done for us and what he continues to do ... and what he is about to do in this Eucharistic feast, then our hearts should be aflame with gratitude and love. We should be ready to march joyfully into the lion’s den, all the time singing hymns of glory and praise.

The fact of the matter is that very few of us will probably be asked to die for Christ. But for goodness sakes, the least we can do is live for him. But what does that mean? How can we help Jesus slay the image of a vengeful scorekeeping god and reveal the God of mercy and love?

We in the United Catholic Church believe that, following the example of Jesus, we should dispense the sacraments with great generosity, and should limit the impact of man-made rules in the lives of the faithful. The Church helps save people not by the rules it imposes, but by the example it gives of God’s unselfish and limitless love.

We believe that the most important division Jesus made was between Himself and the Pharisees. Jesus was continually getting himself in trouble with the Pharisees for consorting with sinners, even eating with them. The Pharisees were continually on the lookout for infractions of the rules. They weren’t bad people; they were actually very good people, but they had gotten so legalistic, that they had lost the spirit of Judaism, the joy of being God’s chosen people, and they had lost compassion for ordinary people, for widows and orphans, for lepers and outcasts. Their whole lives were devoted to making sure everybody followed the rules. Jesus, on the other hand, was always pointing out that the rules were supposed to better people’s lives, not to burden them. Without the spirit of joy, the rules are worse than useless, they are deadly. As St. Paul put it, "The law kills, but the Spirit gives life."

Centuries pass, and the legalisms sneak back in. Occasionally a St. Francis comes along to try to reignite the fire of love and joy that Jesus lit. But it always gets dimmed by a new crop of Pharisees and must be ignited all over again.

Well guess what? Christian churches today are chock full of Pharisees — not just the Roman Catholic Church, but all of them. Don’t tell anybody, but I understand there’s even a few in the Episcopal Church. And they are not content with merely enforcing all the old rules. They are continually creating new ones.

This has caused us, with the prompting of the Holy Spirit, to depart from the authority of the Vatican and to build an inclusive, non-judgmental, democratic branch of that one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church to which we all belong. We are determined to follow Jesus, not the Pharisees.

People often ask, "Well, why didn’t you just join the Episcopal Church?" (And believe me, we thought about it ... a lot!) The answer is that there are millions of alienated and excommunicated Roman Catholics out there who never go to church, never receive the Eucharist. And they are afraid of going to a Protestant church. They were taught from childhood that that would send them straight to hell. These outcasts, these modern lepers and Samaritans need a Catholic church which will accept them just the way they are and fill them with God’s love through the sacraments. That is our mission. We welcome all Christians to our Communion rail, but our primary outreach is to these unchurched Roman Catholics. Divorced and remarried, gay and lesbian, black and brown, poor and homeless, single mothers, liberal Democrats, ... whatever! We will take them all. To the outcast, we offer inclusion; to the rejected, acceptance; to the afflicted, comfort; to the sinner, forgiveness; to the despondent, hope; to the troubled, peace.

In the final analysis, being a Catholic or a Christian is not about being a member of an institution. It is about being a member of the Body of Christ. It is not about what you believe. It is about whom you trust. It is not about following the rules. It is about following Jesus. May God grant us all the grace to do so, and to follow Jesus in all things.

Let us pray.

Lord, everything we have comes from you. The warmth of the sun, the cool ocean breeze, the sound of children’s laughter, the smell of fresh bread, the taste of good wine, the touch of a loved one’s hand — all are from you. Everything we love is a gift from you.

Don’t let us turn away from you and harden our hearts. Send your Spirit to inflame our hearts with love for you. Help us act out that love by caring for the poor, the outcast, the rejected that you love so much. Arm us with your sword of truth and love, and help us wield it with your power in the nonviolent struggle for your kingdom. We choose to follow you, not the Pharisees. Help us live that choice.

Our very lives are yours. Take them. Use them. Grant that we may love you always, and then do with us as you will. Amen.

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