Bishop Bennett Sims' Beyond Inclusion Presentation:
"From Convention to Conviction"
April 1999

The Rev. Ed Bacon: "It's my great pleasure to introduce our first speaker. I know this man well. He was the bishop of Atlanta when I was a Baptist preacher and looking for more commodious space in which to do theology and also to do ministry. Bennett Sims was a beacon in the state of Georgia, because of his clear and eloquent voice on behalf of peacemaking, on behalf of justice, and on behalf of ecological stewardship. His writing ability and his brilliant mind were recognized in all corners of the Church, but were used particularly by the House of Bishops, for it was his pen that wrote many of the pastoral letters that came from the House of Bishops when he was diocesan bishop in Atlanta. After his retirement from diocesan bishop seat, he was an adjunct professor at Emory University, and later he founded the Institute for Servant Leadership, which has just celebrated an important anniversary and had an overwhelmingly successful event at Kanuga, with Desmond Tutu and others. Many of you who are here were among the four hundred people who were at Kanuga this past weekend, and helped celebrate the marvelous ministry of Servant Leadership. Bishop Sims lives for the reign of God, particularly as it enters into history in the form of peacemaking and in the form of justice and in the form of servant leadership. I can think of no one in the Church who would be more appropriate and stirring and illuminating as our first speaker than Bennett Sims. Will you please, please join me in warmly welcoming my friend and teacher and bishop, Bishop Sims."

Bishop Sims: Are there any questions? It says here 10:30 to 11:45 for questions and answers. We get a little head start on the questions...Well, thank you, Ed, for inviting me to this auspicious occasion. And thank you, Rebecca, for inviting me to title my own paper, From Convention to Conviction , because this suggests an odyssey, a pilgrimage, an evolution, which I presume is almost everyone's experience here on issues of sexuality even, of course, with life itself. Teilhard du Chardin described evolution not so much as a process, implying a smooth linear development, but as a "groping." That's his word: a "groping" and a zigzag kind of feeling for the way ahead. And I understand Teilhard to have meant not only an uneven series of horizontal angles, but as well of lumpy ups and downs, so that it was in all four dimensions that we grope. My presence here has just such a history. It began in the unexamined shadows of cultural and moral convention, and has groped its way out of the darkness into as much measure of light as I can discern. The odyssey punctuated by flashes of illuminy. These flashes convinced me that, however bewildering my own groping was, however controversial and resistance-arousing it was, in Church and society, still it felt like being on the right track.

My own story is in two parts. Part one has to do with those important personal moments of illumining in the journey, and part two will try to locate my personal experience in the larger frame of public meaning. As you notice, I'm relying heavily on the manuscript, because I was assigned to write a paper, but even more because in a talk delivered five or six weeks ago at a little church in North Carolina, without notes, I was talking about servant leadership in three parts, and I forgot the entire third part! Any of us born in 1920 or before understands this failing. Douglas Meeks, of the Vanderbilt Divinity faculty tells a story of a man who, with his wife, went to a memory seminar for older folks, an enterprise to boost the recall capacity of senior citizens. He was joined by his friends in a country club setting, wives and husbands, several in a circle, in which he was telling the story of how great this experience was, how it helped boost his capacity for recall. One of the members of the circle said, "Well, now, tell me about this place. Where is it, and what is its name?" He rubbed his head, after faltering, and finally he said to the questioner, " What is the name of that flower that's generally red, sometimes white or yellow? It's on a long stem with thorns." "You mean rose?" "Ah, yes! Rose, dear, what was the name of that seminar?" Here's my "Rose, dear."

Part One: My personal illuminings. I can date the precise years of four major moments in my zigzag odyssey into the light. The first happened in my office in 1974, the year of the founding of Integrity. With me in the office for a private interview, was Integrity's founder, a gifted, young professor of English at one of the colleges in my jurisdiction, Fort Valley, Georgia. Louie [Crew], who I had never met before, had sought the interview to inform the bishop of Atlanta that he was a gay man and expected to be respected as a full communicant in good standing, along with all other Episcopalians in his territory, whatever their sexual orientation. Well, until that moment, I had never given even a casual thought to the issue, except a tacit consent to cultural and social and biblical convention. That is my first moment of illumining. Metaphorically, a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder, because you know how penetrating Louie is. It was Louie's gift of a thrown gauntlet. 1974, the year of Integrity' s founding. Those who have read my book know what came of Louie' s challenge: three years later, I wrote a pastoral, long, labored letter to the diocese, intended only for the diocese which, because of its defense of convention, aroused an enormous chorus of applause all across the Church, even across the seas. It became the official statement of the Church of Sweden, can you imagine? Very conservative, and laced with all kinds of citations, theological, psychological, genetic and dental, I suppose.

Well, illumining number two came just about two months later in 1974, on the heels of the wide acclaim for the pastoral letter. I expected, of course, a counter thrust from the gay community, an angry attack. It never came. I waited for the shoe to drop. It never dropped. Instead, I received an invitation to join the Integrity fellowship at its regular worship in one of our churches in Atlanta. You see, what they did was to counter my dismissal of them with a welcoming of me. That was a momentous illumining. Had my pastoral been a defense of gay and lesbian identity, many, many in the Christian community would have taken a vilification - as it happened, predictably, over many years of opposing the Vietnam war, of standing for the ordination of women, and then insisting on the regular use, in every parish, of the Book of Common Prayer. But, you see, putting my shoe on the conservative foot, in this case, giving advocates of the liberal cause an occasion to throw their equivalent abuse, they countered only with ideological disagreement, and a welcoming passion of good will. Here was a community of Christians in my jurisdiction who honored Scripture by their behavior: recall "Put away anger, wrath, malice, and put on as God' s chosen holy and beloved compassion, kindness, and patience, forbearing one another." They had every reason not to behave that way, but they took the Scripture seriously by their actions. It was an illumining moment number two, also in 1974.

My third illumining came in a totally unchurchy place, as illuminings often come, just before I retired in 1983, in a French restaurant on Druid Hills road in the Toko Shopping Center in Atlanta, over lunch. A casual friend of many years came out to me in a very penetrating and loving testimony. He made it crystal clear that sexual preference, in most cases, and certainly in his, is not a choice, but an identity. A bestowed ontological gift, on the order of racial identity, of facial contour, of musical virtuosity. On the basis of this surety, pondered over time, I wrote another pastoral letter to the diocese asking for my successor' s consent that I could write to the diocese of Atlanta as bishop retired. Its essence was that there could be no moral superiority or inferiority anywhere along the continuum of bestowed sexual identity. Only for us everywhere on that continuum as Christians, the moral imperative to love over contempt, of fidelity over promiscuity, of respect for persons over exploitation. An ethic more saluted than observed, and numerically more violated by straights than by gays, simply because there are so many more of us.

The fourth moment of illumining dates to 1998, just a year ago. Why does it so often take long for us to see something clearly that' s been before our eyes and in our minds for years and years? I suppose I have known the classic verses in Romans 1:26-27 since daily vacation Bible School. The verses tirelessly used by traditional prohibitors of homosexual legitimacy: "God gave them up to degrading passions. Their women exchanged natural intercourse," etc., etc. Not once in these two verses does Paul use the word, "homosexual." The operative term is "natural." In the Greek, "Phooskos." On page 660 of Thayer' s Greek Lexicon, "Phooskos" means three things: "produced by nature," "agreeable to nature," "inborn." On the basis of what we now know about ontology, a bestowed identity, the case is closed for me. We can now add a critical addition to St. Paul' s catalogue of oneness in Galatians 3:28: "There is no longer Jew or Greek. There is no longer slave or free. There is no longer male or female." There is no longer gay or straight. "For all of you are one in Christ Jesus." You see how far beyond inclusion this takes us. Way beyond the implicit condescension of a member toward a guest at a country club. If, by design of our redeemed humanity, we are made one, there remains no room for either inclusion or exclusion, only for celebration of our shared, embraced-by-nature' s God in Christ Jesus.

Now for some remarks about public meaning. I want to sketch here the larger picture of our time, if I can. The human odyssey now swings on a turning point, a huge hinge of history, marked by a globalism that' s never been experienced before in human consciousness. Never before have we been here. It takes the shape of globalism in our consciousness in several surging currents that erupt across the planet: the feminist movement; the environmental, ecological movement; the peace, non-violence movement, which got expressed in an editorial this morning on the editorial page of USA TODAY; the gay and lesbian legitimacy movement; the democracy movement; the participatory management movement. All of these are global realities, and the scenario gives my personal scenario a kind of place in the public meaning. From Convention to Conviction fits, in my experience, as part of the cosmic reality that is erupting in our times. The operative word for the larger context comes straight from Scripture, and is confirmed on a cosmic scale by the advancing frontiers of post-modern science, and the word is "oneness." Contemporary quantum theory and researchers are saying that we are all one, whether Christ is acknowledged or not. Oneness is, itself, ontological, built into the structure of the cosmos. A vast, comprehensive design of interwoven wonder in the world, in creation, from the Big Bang 15 or so billion years ago to this very moment and beyond and beyond in a cosmos still in process of creation.

Teilhard is the primary explorer of this domain for me. By "primary," I mean it was he, who in his mystic grasp of wholeness first opened to me a new world view. The question is new? No, I don' t believe so. Only new to a western renaissance mentality deductively derived as a portrait of a reality and brought to a pointed climax in Cartesian and Newtonian reductionist mechanics. The material order for them, and for us, for most of these three hundred years, has been the building blocks of all foundational matter: atoms. The material order was the basic and enduring make-up of the cosmos, and Spirit is simply a come-lately attribute imposed from above with the appearance of humanity. A sequence, incidentally, with scriptural warrants, in Genesis 1. You see, both Newton and Descartes were devout Christians, and their influence shaped the most powerful knowledge base the world has ever known until now. Modern science, so-called modern science, taught me in 1936, in high school physics, that atoms, as the cosmic building blocks, were the inert, lifeless, essentially disconnected ingredients that floated in a void. Atoms-- they awaited manipulation and re-arrangement by human ingenuity to create convenience and wealth. And they did. Their influence shaped the most powerful knowledge base we' ve ever known, and, of course, it' s brought wonders. Who wants to be a dishwasher when you can buy one? The Cartesian theory of the cosmos as a clockwork of cog wheels, and Spirit was parts and pieces from which machinery of the universe we could fashion machines to do our bidding.

Henry Ford and the digital watch are my primary symbols of reductionist physics and mechanics. Henry built a car so efficiently that anyone with $585 in 1925 could buy a Ford. And a digital watch can tell time so efficiently that it never fails to give a read-out on "now." But both the automobile and the digital watch are reinforcers of the disconnectedness of the mechanical world view. Cars isolate people, making us competitors for ever-decreasing space on streets and interstates, leading in extremis to that new disconnecting passion which we call "road rage." Digital watches isolate us from both past and future. All you get from their numbers is "now, now, now, now." Does anyone here have an old fashioned circular clock in the car, with hands that tell time as we used to be told to tell time-- a quarter to ten, and half past twelve? Studebaker? The last one I had in a car of my family was a terraplay. It' s just about the same vintage as a hutmobile. Teilhard, whose dates are 1881 to 1955, who died right here in New York, overlooking Central Park. His dates are roughly parallel to C.G. Jung and Carl Sandburg. Teilhard intuited, way back in the 1930' s, what later researchers and scientists now insist on as the pulsing inter-connectedness of all life. From his research as a paleontologist, paleoanthropologist, he deduced what he called the law of complexity consciousness. What it means is that the material components of the cosmos arrange themselves along the ascending curve of evolution, from mud to humanity, on a complex arrangement of interconnecting and interdependent components that produce a drive toward consciousness in all matter, from humus, to humans. In other words, in every level of cosmic materiality, the components of life and consciousness are present, says Teilhard. And that consciousness in the ascending scale toward humanity is controlled by the degree of structural complexity. That is, all materiality has structure, so it follows, likewise, a consciousness is commensurate with the degree of complexity of the structure. What that means for Teilhard, and for me increasingly, is that there is no such thing as inert matter. No such thing as brute matter. Doesn't exist, never existed. Every element in the universe contains within it the germ of interiority, of life and consciousness. In the 1930' s he was saying that. This is a quote from his writing, "At the level of the virus, which has a complexity of about a million atoms, consciousness begins to be experimentally observable. It manifests itself at higher levels by successive leaps. Finally, after passing through critical points, and invisible processes, every entity in that ascending curve of evolution possesses the same."

At the University of California at Berkeley, a researcher in quantum physics says that a sub-atomic particle is simply nothing but a set of relationships looking for relationships. David Baum, the late David Baum, a student of Einstein, wrote a series of essays titled in book form, "The Wholeness of the Implicate Order." "All is one," he says. "Everything is connected to everything else." We are not sure how this connectedness works, but it is a certainty that there is separation without separateness. Francisco Valera, a student of David Baum, says, "The idea of the complicate order is that everything is enfolded in everything. This state of wholeness is available to us, and yet, as available to all, it' s the loveliest and profoundest treasure. This state, where we connect deeply with others, and doors open, is there waiting for us. All we have to do is squint and see that it has been there all along, waiting for us. All we have to do is see the oneness that we are." That' s a physicist. I would add that sometimes we don't even have to squint.

Two police in a patrol car arrived at a lookout point at the Poly, that great sheer cliff, a mid-island in Oahu in Hawaii, that was a drop of hundreds of feet below. They arrived at this place just in time to see a young man about to jump over. He' d leapt over the guardrail and was about to leave. It's a place where people do commit suicide and they arrived just at that moment when the man was about to jump to his death. Instantly, the officer on the right hand side of the car jumped out and went over the guardrail and grabbed hold of him and pulled him back, with that super-human strength that comes to us sometimes in emergencies. Pulled him back to safety. The next day, in a television interview, the interviewer asked him why he had done that, why he had risked his life, to save this jumping man. He said, "It took no thought at all. I saw the young man as myself, and had I not acted as I did, I would have died a thousand deaths, regretting my failure. It was as if I were the young man about to jump." "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," which I begin to understand not as a matter of equivalency, not as a mandate to love others as much as you love yourself, because I don' t love myself all that well sometimes, giving into the perversity of self-recrimination and self-rejection. Now Jesus commands a love of identification with others, not equivalence, but identity. You shall love your neighbor as if he/she were yourself. This is not a matter of hyped-up morality, a resolve to do better. This is, I think, a high ontology. We are one. We are one another, made for oneness at the baseline of life. And we know this when, in seeing a child brutalized, we recoil somewhere in our gut at the brutalizing. As when we saw the brutalizing behavior of Nazis in "Schindler's List," as when we recoil in sorrow and pain in our gut over the carnage in Kosovo. We hurt, we weep with what the New Testament Greek calls oiktirmos and rendered in English as "compassion," which I understand means "feeling from the other side." We are one. You see how far beyond inclusion this takes us, and in a glad and girding embrace of one another. As Christians, we can now see the deep integration of science and spirituality, and celebrate our shared identity in the one household of humanity with all creation, and in the redeeming mercy of God. Thank you.

updated 17 March 2003webmaster