Mind the Gap: A Sermon for Trinity Sunday

When I was a junior in college, I spent my Fall semester in London for a study abroad program. One visual and audible image that sticks with me to this day from that semester is the slogan “Mind the Gap.” This slogan is posted on signs in the subway system and is played aloud over the intercom at every stop when the doors to the subway car open. The gap they are referring to is the gap between the opening of the subway car and the platform. In other words, “watch your step” when you are getting on or off the subway. “Don’t step into the crack and fall.” It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, and certainly not something I’d mention as what I remember most about my time in London. But all it takes is a few very long subway rides – with a lot of stops – to get that very polite pre-recorded British voice stuck in your head. 

But the London subway system isn’t the only place where there are gaps. Here in our context today, there are many gaps that we having to deal with, watch for, and bear in mind. The first is very obvious – the physical gap between you and me right now. After being cautiously optimistic about returning to public worship at CtK last week, we are back to livestream-only after a potential exposure to covid-19. So, to be safe, we are expanding the gap between one another from 6 feet apart to total separation. This temporary setback is just part of the process that we will have to deal with as we seek to come together. There will be starts and stops and starts again. There will continue to be physical gaps between us until a vaccine is discovered. 

The covid-19 virus has also exposed many other gaps in our nation and world – gaps between the rich and the poor, urban and rural, old and young, healthy and unhealthy, insured and uninsured, mask wearers and non-mask wearers, compliant and non-compliant…the list goes on. 

And the recent civil unrest surrounding the tragedies related to Amaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd have exposed many other gaps in our nation. We are being reminded of the cavernous gaps between white folks and people of color; justice and injustice; peaceful and violent protest; conscientious and rogue law enforcement; liberal and conservative…the list goes on. 

One thing that we Christians are called to do in the midst of chaos, unrest, and disorientation is to turn to our faith for solace, strength, and wisdom. If our Christian faith has nothing to offer us during times like these, what’s the point? 

I think the doctrine of Holy Trinity can help us try to make sense of these gaps we are experiencing in our lives today.

First and foremost, the Hebrew scriptures – particularly those of the prophets - tell us of the monumental gap or chasm that exists between God and God’s people. So God sent prophets like Jeremiah, Isaiah, Amos, Micah, and the like to call Israel back into faithful relationship with God. They were sent to be gap-closers so to speak. 

The last of the great biblical prophetic gap-closers was John the Baptizer, who served as the bridger of the gap between the old and new covenants. John was preparing the way for the ultimate repairer of the breach, Jesus. The incarnation of God in Jesus was God’s ultimate, radical act of gap-closing. When God the Father – the first person of the Trinity - recognized that the prophets weren’t enough to get God’s message of love, peace, justice, and reconciliation across to God’s people, God chose to empty himself of all divine pretensions and he became a human being. 

Jesus of Nazareth – the incarnate Son of God; the incarnate Word of God; the second person of the Trinity – closed the gap between God and humankind by living and dying as one of us. God’s very own self felt the humiliation and pain of suffering and death. God could never again be accused of not being able to relate to us. God was no longer only transcendent, far away, and unknowable. The gap between divinity and humanity was closed and sealed forever. 

Even though I’ve provided us with a hopefully palatable metaphor for thinking about the Triune God, in the end, all metaphors fall short. Dare I say that all metaphors, no matter how helpful, leave a bit of a gap.

Early on during this coronavirus pandemic, I read “The Celebrant” - a historical fiction novel based on the Memphis yellow fever epidemic in 1878. It is the fascinating story told from the point of view of Fr. Louis Schuyler – one of the “Martyrs of Memphis.” The “Martyrs of Memphis” were a small group of Episcopal clergy, lay people, and nuns who either remained in or traveled to Memphis to help care for those who were stricken with yellow fever. All but two of them ended up dying of yellow fever in their efforts to help others. 

This group of faithful Episcopalians is commemorated on the Episcopal Calendar every September 9, and the Feast day is called “Constance and her Companions: The Martyrs of Memphis.” Constance was the superior of the Sisters of St. Mary, an Episcopal convent that was established in 1873 to start a girl’s school connected with St. Mary’s Cathedral in Memphis. We at Christ the King have two important connections with this story. First, Fr. Frank Cooper, prior to serving as the Rector here at Christ the King, was the Dean of St. Mary’s Cathedral in Memphis. And he was a part of the team of people who lobbied the Episcopal General Convention to add Constance and her Companions to the Episcopal calendar of Feasts and Fasts. So, every September 9 when we celebrate Constance and her Companions, we should be mindful that Frank Cooper is a big reason we are doing so.

The other connection is that one of our parishioners - Geoffrey Butler (I’m still in denial that Geoffrey and Evie moved away, so I am still calling them our parishioners) – was the headmaster at St. Mary’s School for Girls in Memphis. This is the school that was started by Sister Constance and the Sisters of St. Mary’s. 

Anyhow…by the time the yellow fever epidemic in Memphis ended, 90% of the population that remained in Memphis during the epidemic contracted the disease. At the height of the epidemic, there were an average of 200 deaths a day, and of the 20,000 people who remained in Memphis, over 5,000 died. Given our current familiarity with disease and pandemics, just take a moment to ponder those staggering statistics! 25% of the city’s population died.

The historical fiction novel I mentioned earlier gives a first-person point-of-view account of this epidemic. The author – himself an Episcopalian – invites us into the thoughts and feelings of the protagonist, Fr. Louis Schuyler. Fr. Schuyler – a priest in New Jersey – felt called to religious life beyond parish priesthood. Prior to going to Memphis, he went to Oxford, England to explore becoming a professed member of the Society of St. John the Evangelist. When that did not work out, he returned to parish ministry in New Jersey, and it was then that he heard about the yellow fever epidemic in Memphis, and the work that the Sisters of St. Mary were doing. He immediately requested permission from his bishop to go to Memphis and help the sisters in their ministry to the sick.

There is a lot about this remarkable story that I do not have time to go into. Schuyler’s bishop did not want him to go to Memphis, as it was as good as a death sentence for him, even though he was a young man in his early 30’s. But after a lot of back-and-forth, and a few instances that can only be chalked up to divine providence, Schuyler was granted permission to go to Memphis. As was expected, he – along with Constance and six other Sisters of St. Mary, and Fr. Charles Parsons – all died of yellow fever. They stood in the gap between those who fled the city and those who remained because they had no other option. They stood in the gap between the haves and have-nots of Memphis. They did exactly what Jesus would have done. And like Jesus, they all died as a result of their call to stand in the gap.

My takeaway from the story of Louis Schuyler and Constance and the Sisters of St. Mary has to do with religious communities serving as “closers of the gap.” I am deeply grateful to be a part of a tradition within Christianity that continues to have religious communities. The Sisters of St. Mary served as closers of the gap during the Memphis yellow fever epidemic in 1878. That is just one example, and it is perhaps a terrible example for me to use. I say that because it is such an extraordinary example of heroism, even martyrdom. The call to religious life is not a call to heroism or martyrdom. It is a call to be a part of an intentional community of prayer and fellowship ordered by a common Rule of Life. It is a call to enhance the life of the wider Church. 

Through our baptisms, we are all called to stand in the gap between God and the world around us. We are all called to stand in the gap between justice and injustice; between goodness and evil; between love and hate; between the haves and the have-nots. Through our baptisms, we are all called to participate in the divine life of the Holy, Blessed Trinity. 

Our very own God has given us a model for existing together in community, as well as for bridging the gap between God and humankind, as well as between one another. 

So, I think our first calling is simply to mind the gaps that exist in our world today. We must acknowledge that there are gaps, and that these gaps can be dangerous if not tended to. Ignoring the gaps - pretending that they do not exist – only widens them. 

 And second, as Christians baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, our calling is to not only mind the gaps, but to do our part to help bridge the gap. We are called to be repairers of the breach; closers of the gap. We have heroic examples of how faithful Christians have done that in the past. But we don’t have to be heroes. We simply have to be Christians. Lord knows, the world needs us. Our nation needs us. Our community needs us. So, let us mind the gap. And, empowered by the holy and blessed Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit- let us do our part to be bridgers the gap.