Feast of Saint Peter & Paul
Ordination of Winston Rice (Read the News release...)
June 29, 2005
Christ Church, Covington

Imagine the scene: it’s the morning of September 23rd, the year 1508, in the Church of the Carmelite Friars in the city of York, England. The building no longer exists, so we must use our imaginations: the large, cathedral-like dimensions of the “Whitefriars” Church, recently add on to; the absence of artificial light, apart from some candles; the sheer funky, un-sanitized smell and feel of the place. The church is near the River Foss, in an area called “the Marsh”, presumably pretty damp (the sort of undesirable place you might sell to a group of unsuspecting friars); it’s also near the business location of York’s fishmongers, adding another olfactory dimension. John of Nigripont, a purely titular and assistant bishop in the diocese of York, is presiding at the Fall ordination liturgy, occasions commonly shared out by the great churches of the city (of which there are several). People have come from all over the diocese to be ordained; have submitted their paperwork and been examined; no doubt most are planning celebrations afterward with family and friends in the taverns and inns of the walled city.

There’s nothing particularly special about this early Tudor ordination, in “Merrie Old” England. The storm of the Reformation still lies ahead. In fact, the world is about to change significantly for these people: they’re on the edge of the precipice. But the final detail of this scene is striking, and completes the picture, for on this occasion there are 352 candidates to be ordained in a single ceremony: 78 acolytes, 80 subdeacons, 82 deacons, and 112 priests. Each deacon and priest at least must have hands laid on him by the bishop; each candidate must be vested and receive the symbols of his order. Just think about it for a moment. Accounts don’t tell us how the bishop managed to ordain all these persons before lunch time. Nevertheless, I’m sure the job was done. No mention is made of the name of the Master of Ceremonies for this late-medieval rite. But I say that both the nameless M.C. and the Bishop of Nigripont earned their keep that day. What an event, scarcely imaginable today.

Now place alongside this event another, described in John’s Gospel. It is the evening of the Day of Resurrection, and Jesus is appearing to the disciples. They are gathered in fear, but this is his word to them: “’Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you’. When he had said this, he breathed on them and said… ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’” (Jo. 20:21-22). From this moment they will move forward. It is this event which is the catalyst for our medieval ordination. Here we have, in the encounter with the Risen Lord, the meaning of that later scene in York; indeed, the meaning of all ordination. The manifestation of the resurrected Lord in power is a moment of tradition, and a moment of mission.

“Tradition”: a word meaning “something handed over or passed on”. In this case, we’re not talking about a family heirloom or a way of doing things, perhaps worn through or out of date. We’re talking about the manifestation of new life in Jesus Christ, and his gift to us. “Receive the Holy Spirit” , Jesus says to them. This is the well-spring of life, not something worn out or passé. This gift, this “tradition” that is handed over to the disciples, has its origin with God. In fact, it’s the life of God himself, the “tradition” that God wills to hand over to the Church (what St Augustine called the catholica, the Universal Church), so that this life may be “handed on” in succession by us.

“Mission” is our other word: a word meaning “sending”. There’s nothing static here, but instead a progression and itineration from one place to another. The disciples are sent as Jesus himself was sent. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Out into the world, that is, to share his cross and resurrection. Out into the world, for the sake of the world. Out into the world, to bring truth and light and life. To go forward to bind up the ancient wound of sin. To advance and declare forgiveness. To be sent to heal and bless, and break the stony heart. That’s the mission, to which God calls us in the fellowship of his Church. And if God, in all improbability, wills to send human beings on this mission, who can question?

It is tradition and mission that binds us to that evening of the Day of Resurrection, and to that September morning in York, itself just one rather long page in the story of God’s People. It is tradition and mission that binds our actions this evening to those others before. This too is an occasion of tradition and mission. We’re gathered by the banks of another river, a location arguably as damp as that one in York but considerably warmer. Our liturgy won’t take as long as that other one, either. But this too is a moment in the great mission, in the great tradition, of God. This, too, is a moment in which God’s Spirit will come welling up, to be poured out afresh, so that God’s People may be “tradition-ed” and “sent”.

It’s customary to ask the ordinand to stand at this point for some direct communication, not from God but from the preacher. Winston, the ministry of any priest is a carrying forward of these things, the tradition and the mission. God chooses human beings for this work, and he has chosen you. The pastors of the Church are meant to keep us all engaged in this work, to keep us focused and faithful and mindful of our calling. That will be your own calling as a priest, the point to which your life is “ordered” by God. There will be temptations along the way: temptations in their mildest form of cynicism, of worldly success, of simple and sheer fatigue. But there will also be joys, in this life and in the life to come. You will not want to surrender the gift of God that is given to you, but to hand it on to others. That is the mission you share, with your bishop and fellow presbyters and with the whole People of God. For it is God who is at work here, this evening and in every step of your ministry, and each of us is privileged to share in this moment where God’s power and new life are revealed.

John Bauerschmidt is Rector of Christ Church, Covington.