“For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands…” (2 Tim. 1:6).
Today we celebrate a significant rededication of space at St. Anselm’s Church, after a major project of repair; and the dedication of items set apart for the worship of God. The offerings for worship are given in memory of the Rev’d Dolores Nicholson, deacon and faithful servant of the Church. All of this falls on the feast of St. Leo of Rome, bishop of that city for over twenty years in the fifth century.
It’s a wonderful coincidence, at least for the preacher, because in Leo’s day the world itself seemed to be falling apart. It’s amazing how things change, but in spite of this they remain the same. Back then, it was a time in which old patterns of life were being eclipsed, ancient verities overridden, while the new reality had not yet emerged. In Leo’s day, it was a time of flux; there was not yet a “new normal.”
Rome was the capital city of an Empire that was surrounded by enemies, and also subject to internal strife. Just a few decades before Leo became bishop, the Visigoths had captured and looted the city, causing a civic crisis in a community that had not seen a defeat like this in hundreds of year. The now Christian emperors had decided that the city of Rome was indefensible, and decamped with their imperial entourage for a more strategic, and dare I say safer, center of operations. In this vacuum of leadership, the burden of responsibility in the city now fell upon the bishop of Rome.
Leo should have seen this coming: after all, he was citizen of the city, and knew that hard times were on their way. During Pope Leo’s tenure, on two different occasions, the Pope had to confront invaders encamped outside the walls. He was able to persuade the infamous Attila the Hun to spare the city, but just a few years later the King of the Vandals and his army intervened in a succession crisis and occupied the city again. By the way, the looting that followed gave us the term “vandalism”: the Vandals establishing the industry standard for misbehavior and abuse of property.
But external enemies were only one problem among many. People were simply losing faith in their leadership, which didn’t seem to be able to protect them, but only able to tax them. Taking leadership itself was a burden, financially and otherwise, increasingly avoided by prominent citizens who withdrew into their own enclaves. Disruption of trade led to starvation and depopulation. Large sections of the Empire were falling away, looking to local military strongmen for protection. In Rome, of course, people looked to Leo, who in the process put his stamp upon the city and the Church itself.
Not only was Roman civilization collapsing, but the Church was in crisis as well. Differences in articulating the relationship of divinity and humanity in the person of Christ turned out to be divisive. In this area, too, Leo turned out to be a leader, helping to shape the orthodox formula of two complete natures, human and divine, in one person, Jesus Christ. Leo came to be called “the great” because of the way he helped to shape the theology, liturgy, and ministry of the Church at a pivotal moment, in a crucial center of Christian life.
In many ways, Leo of Rome was what the prophet Isaiah called a “repairer of the breach” (Is. 58:12): someone who mends what is broken down and establishes a new pattern. I say “a new pattern,” but in truth Leo was recalling the Church to its ancient faith. He was a leader who, in an incredibly disruptive time, remembered what it was to be truly a leader: to be willing to stick his head over the edge of the parapet and look at what’s really out there. That’s intimidating work, especially if what you see is Attila the Hun and his army. It’s a whole lot easier to run away and hide. It’s also risky work: when you peer over the parapet who knows what they will throw at you!
Leo took that risk and helped to organize and order the life of the Church in the city of Rome, and by extension helped create the world and the Church in which we still live. You might say he was a “level set” guy. By the way, “ordering” the life of the Church is something different from giving orders! The Roman Emperors were great at giving orders, but they were pretty ineffective. The Church looked to Leo, quite naturally, because it saw in him an authentic way forward in the midst of chaos.
As it says in our reading this evening, from St. Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy, “For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands…” (2 Tim. 1:6). Leadership is God’s gift, not something we take up on our own. It doesn’t require innovation on the part of the practitioner, amazing insight into some new truth, but rather the recalling or rekindling of a gift that is already within us. God has given us the gifts for the challenge at hand. Leo’s ministry was a ministry of reclamation and the repair of the breach.
The ministry we celebrate tonight is a similar rededication and renewal of a ministry begun long ago at St. Anselm’s Church. Our job is to rekindle the gift that God gave and continues to give us: gifts of insight and faith, of true discernment and amazing follow through. Well done, St. Anselm’s Church. May God continue to bless the work of our diocese, and of St. Anselm’s Church, in its particular and unique ministry, as we turn the page and begin the next chapter of our life in Christ together.