Yesterday we celebrated right gloriously when ten deacons were ordained in our Cathedral in Cincinnati . . . among them were two people from Christ Church: Douglas Argue and Mary Slenski. Douglas will join us next Sunday for the Bishop’s visitation. Mary is with us for these last few Sundays in June. In July she’ll begin working as assistant to the Rector at St. Mark’s in Riverside. The Rector, Mike Kreutzer, is also a former member of Christ Church.

To clairify, Douglas is a Deacon . . . the kind of Deacon who will remain a Deacon . . . what we used to call a perpetual or permanent Deacon. Mary is what we now call a Transitional Deacon, meaning that we expect that she will be ordained a Priest within the next year.

Back in the old days in this Diocese, “old” meaning when I was going through this process, the practice was that deacons were ordained in their home parishes and priests were ordained in the churches where they were working. Generally speaking, the rectors were the preachers. Now that ordinations are large events with many candidates ordained together, the local congregations don’t get to experience them and the local rectors don’t get to preach.

Well . . . I’m not going to miss my chance, so this is an ordination sermon.

The bible texts for this morning are helpful as we reflect on the role of a deacon. One of the liturgical tasks assigned to the deacon at the Eucharist is to arrange the meal -- to set the table. Now for many women who happen to be deacons this may rock their feminist socks. But let it be noted that the first deacons were all men and that Douglas Argue began his ministerial life at Christ Church as a member of the Altar Guild.

In the Book of Genesis, God in the form of three men, visited Abraham and Sarah. The patriarch and his wife scrambled around, arranging for a meal and setting the table for their unexpected guests. It’s a diaconal text. Because the deacon’s ministry is to welcome the stranger and to feed her . . . to build a bridge between God and God’s people . . . especially those of God’s people who are not on the inside of the church. The deacon is the servant.

Now there are a couple of observations. First, I’m a deacon. When I was ordained a priest, no one rescinded my deacon’s ordination. That’s why I’m wearing my deacon’s stole today. I am still a servant. And there is a part of the vestments of the Pope that reminds him of the fact that he carries the title: “Servant of the servants of God.”

The other observation is that every ordained role: bishop, priest, deacon is iconic. The deacon is the servant. A priest pronounces absolution of sins, blessings, consecration of the bread and wine. A bishop is an overseer, one who looks over and after the whole church.

But those roles aren’t exclusive to those who are ordained. The ordained simply serve as icons, reflections of those same roles that belong to every one of you – the baptized – to all the people of God.

Every one of us is invited, encouraged, even commanded to be a servant, a deacon. There are more pronouncements of forgiveness and absolution in homes and offices and schools every day than a priest proclaims in a lifetime. And every one of us takes on the Bishop’s work as we oversee families, work, learning and communities.

Mary, setting a table at the Eucharist in the church is easy. But as the Psalmist asks, “Can God set a table in the wilderness?” (Psalm 78:19). Out beyond the routine and the rote and the settled areas of life – beyond the places of comfort and security – out in the wild places where jobs are at risk or are ending, out where all the certainties are uncertain – where homes are foreclosed, health care isn’t available, transportation unaffordable, where hunger is real and persistent – out in the wildernesses of life where guns, drugs, and fear are daily realities – can God set the table there and feed the various starvings?

Gary and Karen Kuziensky organize their friends and neighbors and feed a hot, fulfilling meal to more than 200 homeless people every month. Charlie Stough trains and organizes people throughout this community to assist folk in gaining the benefits for which they are eligible. Kris Sexton spends her days responding to people who live much of their lives in the wild places. Numerous volunteers from this congregation touch, encourage, feed, support, and set tables in the wilderness all the time.

The rest of the church rightly humbles us, the ordained, Mary. Our task is to let them know about and to encourage them in their ministries. When the priest breaks bread, when the bishop looks out for the welfare of the whole church, when the deacon serves the weak, the poor, the last, and the lost – we are but icons for the larger work that is done day by day by the whole people of God.

The Gospel for the today says that the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Among other things, we understand this text to mean – not that we need more ordained folk – but that the baptized understand that they are ordained by water and the spirit to take on the ministries of Jesus.

Can God set a table in the wilderness? God surely can and does, even using people who appear at times to have no skill or special talent other than a willingness to take up whatever task they’re called to.

William Willimon, Methodist Bishop of Alabama, wrote the following:
On my worst day as a bishop, a grueling eight-hour marathon of nine appointments with complaining clergy all begging me to move them to Birmingham, when I finally dragged myself before my assistant in order to go home, my heart sank when she said, "You've got one more appointment."

In despair I invited two older women into my office.

"We've come to Birmingham from Cullman to tell you about our ministry," one said. "Gladys's grandson was busted, DUI. We went over to the youth prison camp to visit him. Sad to say, we had never been there before. We were appalled by the conditions those young men were packed in there like animals. We got to know them. Are you aware that only ten percent of them can read? An illiterate 19-year-old and we wonder why he's in prison!"

"Well, we began reading classes," the other one said, "Sarah taught school before she retired. Then that led to a Bible study group in the evening. We're up to three Bible study groups a week. Two friends of ours who can't get out bake cookies for the boys. We've also enlisted two wonderful nurses who help with the VD. Some of them said those cookies are the first gift they've ever received."

"And you want the Conference to take responsibility for this ministry?" I asked with bureaucratic indifference.

"No, we don't want to mess it up," Sarah responded.

"You need me to come up with some money for you?" I persisted, icily.

"Don't need any money. If we need something we get it from our little church," she said.

"Then why have you come down here to tell me about this?" I asked.

"Well, we know that being a bishop must be one of the most depressing jobs in the church - too many things that we are not doing that Jesus expects us to do. So Gladys thought it would be nice if we came down here to tell you to take heart. Something's going right, that is, up in Cullman."

So Mary, look for the Cullman, Alabama’s of this world – they’re everywhere – especially right here in the mid-west. And then look up Sarah and Gladys, encourage them, and invite a few more laborers to join in the harvest. And at the end of the day or week – prepare a meal and set the table – for the few laborers and any strangers who happen by. And the Kingdom of God will have come near.