The Reception of the Rev. Dan Herron as a Deacon in the Episcopal Church, September 5, 2007

Jeremiah 1:4-8, Acts 6:2-7, John 15:9-17
St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, West Valley City, UT

The Rev'd W. Lee Shaw

I have known Dan and Betsy for over five years. We met at All Saints Church when they would bring a small group of people from St. Patrick’s Church to our Integrity meetings, a ministry of the Episcopal Church for and with gays and lesbians. When no one came from St. Patrick’s, Dan and Betsy would come any way. For some time they were known simply as the straight couple, or that nice woman and her husband with the pony tail.

But soon we got to know—and remember—their names and they were Dan and Betsy. Soon we shared stories and I heard some of their background in the Roman Catholic Church, in Philadelphia and in Arizona. When I came to St. Stephen’s, it was not too long that they started to attend as well. In December, 2004, Bishop Irish received them into the Episcopal Church.

Dan has shared quite a bit with me of his story: his strong faith, his struggles with the Roman Church, his health, his journey into the Episcopal Church, our Education for Ministry program, his work in helping to train lay assistants, serving on the vestry, wrestling with whether or not to seek reception as a Deacon in the Episcopal Church, his classes with Mary June Nestler to bring him to this place tonight, ministering to Jessica and Jody who had Lou Gerhig’s disease, and so much more.

For me, Dan has been a Deacon since he first walked through the doors of St. Stephen's Church. We are now officially, formally, and gratefully recognizing and receiving that ministry and call within the Episcopal Church. This evening I want to hold up for you the distinct and important ministry of the vocational Diaconate; the Deacon as an important and singular ministry and not a so-called stepping stone to Priesthood. I am very grateful to see a growing number of vocational deacons in our diocese.

I want to start with a parable. It is a parable set in a dream, a dream of judgment—my judgment. I find myself standing before the judgment seat of Christ, a rather simple wooden chair actually, in a large marble great hall in heaven. Jesus is looking at a book that I know is the book of my life, in which there are some gold stars, more than a few red checks, and quite a few question marks. I feel a great need to explain myself and offer a rationale for my life on earth. So before Jesus says anything, I start to explain myself, but it actually comes out more as excuses of “if only” and “could have” and “should have” and “but if” and other excuses for what I know are recorded in my book of life. One by one my excuses start to fall about me as great globs of mud until when I am finished I am literally standing in a pool of dirty mud. I have made a mess of the halls of heaven as I have made a mess of my life on earth.

Jesus looks at me with a sadness in his eyes that I cannot bear. I tell myself that if he says one word—anything—I will just flee from his presence and never ever return. Slowly he stands, comes to me and hands me the book. Then he kneels at my feet and begins to clean up the mess I have made of my life and of heaven’s marble floor.

I look at the book. It is not the book of my life, it is the old Bible from my study. I read the page he had turned to: As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love…I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing, but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my father…

Then Jesus stands. He embraces me in his strong arms of grace and love, then softly says: Welcome home my friend. Come rest.

I tell this parable because I feel one of the greatest ministries of the Deacon is to show the world what a friend of Jesus is like. How does a friend of Jesus act and behave? What does he or she do? How does a friend of Jesus serve others?

The Ordinal has specific requirements of the Deacon: serve all people; make Christ and his redemptive love known; interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world; assist in public worship; and to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself.

That is very rich and elegant language. But I prefer the language of “friend of Jesus.” We all know the value of friendship, the trust and fidelity of friendship. We know our friends. We love our friends. The word friend can link us to others in special ways that bind us one to another. Those in recovery know about being “friends of Bill.” Those of us who are not heterosexually-challenged know about being “friends of Dorothy” and how that links us to one another.

To be a friend of Jesus links a Deacon in a special relationship of ministry and caring in the name of Him who came to serve others. To be a friend of Jesus calls forth the best and the most vulnerable in a person as they minister to those around them. A Deacon is a friend of Jesus as he or she makes His redemptive love known in their lives and with their hands and with their heart.

I have learned a lot about what it means to be a friend of Jesus from Dan. I have seen his patience, his devotion and faith, his strength of will, his pastoral care, and his dry sense of humor. Yes, humor is also a gift and grace from God for those who would recognize it. Thank you Dan for showing me what a friend of Jesus looks like.

Well, we are coming to the end of the sermon in a liturgy I don’t think any of us have done before: the Reception of a Deacon into the Episcopal Church. Our diocese has received as priests Adam Linton from the Orthodox Church, as well as Ivan Cendese, and the late Jerry Merrill from the Roman Catholic Church. But I do not know of a Deacon we have received.

In sermons at ordinations, there is a generally charge given to the ordinand at the end of the sermon. I don’t know if a charge to the one-being-received is normally done or not, and I did not want to ask the Bishop or Adam Linton in case they said no, and I would have to find another way to end this sermon. So, Dan, please stand.

Dan: What more can I say to you my friend? Well, being a good Trinitarian, three more things.

  1. Think of your vocation as a Deacon in terms of a verb and not a noun. As a very wise woman once noted, Vocation is not something that I have, it is a possibility for me to become, (D.M. Wilhelm, SND). Continue to become the Deacon God yearns for you to become.
  2. Two very important rules for your re-newed ministry: Rule #1, you can not do everything. Rule #2, you cannot change rule #1.
  3. Finally, you have a wonderful life ahead of you as a vested Deacon (again) and you will continue to serve others in the gracious and gentle way that marks your ministry. I leave you with the words of a former bishop of the Diocese of Utah, Paul Jones: Where I serve the church is of small importance so long as I can make my life count in the cause of Christ. I have no doubt you will make your life count in the cause of Christ for you are a true friend of Christ in every way.