Bishop Dorsey’s Sermon and Charge at Diocesan Synod

Sermon and Charge delivered by the Right Reverend Dorsey McConnell, Acting Bishop of the United Diocese of Aberdeen and Orkney, at the Opening Eucharist of the Diocesan Synod on 2 March, 2024 

The Passover of the Jews was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found those who were selling oxen and sheep and pigeons, and the moneychangers at their business. And making a whip of cords, he drove them all, with the sheep and oxen, out of the temple; and he poured out the coins of the moneychangers and overturned their tables. And he told those who sold the pigeons, “Take these things away; you shall not make my Father’s house a house of trade.” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for thy house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign have you to show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. When therefore he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word which Jesus had spoken. (John 2:13-22)

SHORTLY after I arrived in Aberdeen back in November, on a Sunday visitation, I was approached at the end of the service by a sprightly woman who was clearly a very senior member of her congregation. She grasped my hand warmly and, with a big smile, said, “Oh, welcome! Welcome to this diocese. We are glad you’re here and so glad you’ve come to sort us!” I stammered, “Is that my job? I… I don’t think I can do that.” “Yes, you can! Yes, you can,” she bubbled. “We all know you can do it!” And off she went with a sprightly wave. Ever since then, I have been over and over this in my mind. As I say, I’m fairly sure my job is to be among you as a faithful pastor, teacher, and apostle. I can’t imagine trying to sort you, and even if I could, how would I do it? What would I use? And then, I remembered this text: And, making a whip of cords, Jesus….No, definitely the wrong approach.

That is to say, it would be the wrong approach for me, for us, though it clearly was not wrong for Jesus. But there is something in the text and the way it presages so much in the Gospel of John, that I think can be truly helpful for us in our current sufferings as a diocese. Jesus is always about exactly what we should be about. In the case of the Temple in Jerusalem, he is grieved by what he sees – the profiteering of the moneychangers, the exploitation of the poor, who had no choice but to buy officially approved animals for sacrifice, with officially minted temple coins (the exchange rate was not a bargain) so that by the time they got to the point where they might worship God and offer their sacrifice, they probably just wanted it all to end. Jesus realises this can’t be slightly changed or modified. The whole thing has to be taken apart just so that people can pray again. Hence, the whip of cords, the driving out, the overturning of tables, in short, the righteous anger of the Lord.

For Christ’s anger is indeed righteous. It is deliberate and thoughtful. It does not target the innocent. It burns hot, but it is very brief. I doubt the whole incident lasted more than a couple of minutes. Most important, our Lord’s anger is pure. It is full of love, and seeks always to redeem, always to bring back the lost sheep, to consume every sin, remove every barrier we put between our poor yearning souls and their gracious creator. His anger always restores, heals, and saves.

Our anger, on the other hand – well, when we put the whip of cords into our hands, we may begin with righteous indignation, but almost immediately things will go wrong. Our anger might begin with deliberation, but soon becomes impulsive. It is not pure, but easily compounded with bitterness, malice, and resentment. Jesus is done with wrath in the twinkling of an eye. We can seethe for years. And the consequences are easily seen. Whereas the wrath of God leaves clean ground for new growth, human anger burns everything to stubble. It destroys without rebuilding, and the smoke lingers for years.

You don’t have to live long in this diocese to taste this spirit of rage, and its fallout, namely the frustration, sorrow and hurt that seem to affect so many of us on all sides of our present controversies. I cannot, for obvious reasons, comment directly on any of the three investigative processes currently underway. However, I can say with conviction that, in the end, no matter what the outcome, they will leave our collective suffering unresolved, for the simple reason that the law of man – human law – cannot yield the peace of Christ. And without the peace of Christ, the Church cannot truly be Church. So, how is it then, if not with the whip of cords, that God wishes to cleanse this Temple, and help us look to the future in hope?

Again, we look to Jesus: he was speaking of the Temple of his body. He puts away the whip of cords. He declares that he is now the Temple. And he takes that Temple on the road and invites everyone he meets to come to him, to come through the doors of his heart, be forgiven and healed, and they do: think of them, this cast of characters – a Samaritan woman, a paralytic, a woman caught in adultery, a man born blind, none of whom would have been allowed to cross the threshold of the sanctuary in Jerusalem, all now find in Christ’s heart, a large room, gracious and open, where they may finally live without shame or fear, see and walk for the first time. They are quickly joined by a few thousand hungry people, a feverish child, even a dead man restored to life, and in the midst of it all, Jesus’ special, undependable friends, wilful and unstable just like us: fearful Simon, dutiful Martha, impetuous Mary, Thomas torn by love and doubt, James and John the sons of rage, and Mary Magdalene who is so stubborn she will not accept that her Lord is dead until he finally shows her he isn’t anymore. All of these are overshadowed by the glory of His grace, cleansed not with a whip of cords, but by the blood of His Cross. When he rises from the dead, and declares them ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, he sets them on a new road, with only one condition: they must walk it together, in peace. It wasn’t easy. They had almost nothing in common. I suspect several of them didn’t even like each other, but they were commanded to love one another, so they did – and the result two thousand years later, is you.

Here we are in the great room that is the heart of Christ, with the same command, the same invitation from him. There seems to be no alternative, but to draw near to one another, reach across the things that divide us, begin to heal the past, and build a common future. It will not happen through any grand design, especially not one from without. It will only happen through a process no one else but you can create. It will happen one conversation at a time, undertaken slowly and carefully. This afternoon we will make a start, to hear from each other, what might be the things that make for peace. And beyond today, we will be feeling our way forward, in many cases not knowing the next step to take until we have to take it. But if we do this, with open minds and hearts, trusting in Christ to lead us, we will see his glory on the way.

Be assured that your work in this will be undergirded by my love, by the care and dedication of my staff, by your trustees and officers. I know the fire of controversy has stirred anxiety and even doubt as to whether our structures are sound. I can assure you that since I arrived, I have seen on the part of my staff, your trustees and officers, a meticulous integrity, constant concern with accountability and full compliance with the law, and that these will continue. In more than ten years as a bishop I have never worked with more able and devoted people, with a keener eye to ensuring that everything is done right. It can be a bit annoying. I can’t expense so much as a toothpick without a valid receipt; I can’t charge my beer to your quota, but all of that is as it should be. It forms a foundation that I assure you, you can stand on without anxiety, as you look to the days to come in a full spirit of Gospel hope.

And there is already hope, my dears. I see it every Sunday as I visit you. I see the things you are doing in your communities for the sake of Christ, meals and warms spaces, and open rooms for people to gather where they taste the love of God. We are building up lay ministry, taking it on the road, just as Jesus did. We are strengthening communities under stress. I’m in weekly conversation with your vestries helping you uncover the plan that God has for you. I have been working closely with the Trustees of St Andrew’s Aberdeen to help them build a stable future in the firm hope that they will in time take up their historic role as the Cathedral of this Diocese. Taken together, these are no small works. They point to a new horizon, if only we can now begin to build together, one brick at a time, the road ahead of us, no longer fearing the whip, but rejoicing in Christ’s grace and truth.

On November 14, 1784, the first American bishop, Samuel Seabury, was consecrated in Aberdeen by Bishops Kilgour, Petrie, and Skinner. On October 20, 2012, I was consecrated in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, as the 1070^th bishop in this succession. What I now am, I have received at your hands. It is a joy now to be among you to give back a bit of the gift you have given me. As we walk together for a time, please continue to pray, for all those affected by our troubles, especially for Bishop Anne, for the bishops of this Province, and I beg you, for me and my family, Betsy and Evan, as we daily pray for you. And may the peace of Christ that we hope to enjoy today, flow with us into the world as we leave. In whose name we ask these things. Amen.