|
|
From Archbishop Donoghue|
Come to Me, Living Stones |
My Dear Friends and Neighbors in Christ, I am very grateful to your pastor, Dr. Wirth, and to all the people here at First Presbyterian who have made possible my visit with you today. As some of you may know, my office is a little south of here, on West Peachtree across from the BellSouth Building. And often, especially on the way home in the afternoon, driving down Peachtree, the slow afternoon flow of traffic below 15th Street has given me the opportunity to study the buildings along the way. And certainly, in this part of town, there are few structures that have the beauty that your church possesses. I have often thought, on these occasions - it would be nice to see inside that church, it would be nice to preach there. Little did I know that, with the customary hospitality of Atlanta, the day would come when I would be asked to be here, and to contribute in some way to the fine anniversary that First Presbyterian is celebrating, the 150th anniversary of the founding of your congregation. But that day has come, and a very important part of my visit today, is to bring with me, the greeting and the good will of all the Catholics of North Georgia, 300,000 in 75 parishes across the northern 69 counties of the State. We are big and spread out here in Atlanta, but in most cities and towns of Georgia, the downtown is small, and the churches, in so many places, still exist side by side; I want you to know, and all the pastors and people of the Catholic Church want you to know, that we are very happy to have Presbyterians as our neighbors in any place, and I hope that your churches will always return this feeling, and remain our good friends in the Faith of Christ the Lord. It is not as if this neighborliness of churches, and especially our two churches is a new thing. There is much history among us, as I have been led to find out. Knowing that I was to come here, of course, made me sensitive to the fact that I am very much not a local man - my hometown is Washington D.C., and that is north of Virginia, which just barely qualifies me as a Southerner. But I was Bishop of Charlotte in North Carolina before I came here, and since my plan is to die right here in this fair city, I do feel that most people now accept me as a native son, if only by adoption, and I am very comfortable to think of myself as local denizen. Nevertheless, being adopted into a city of culture doesn’t excuse you from finding out about the people and the places that surround you, and that you now want to call your friends and your home. And so I have investigated our mutual histories a little bit, and that is why I say that neighborliness is not a new thing between our churches. Although the first actual meetings were held by missionaries of the Methodist Church, Catholics started meeting for Mass and keeping records long about 1846, the first authentic records of any religious organization in the area, according to Franklin Garrett. But it was not long before several denominations were present in the area, and I believe that it was at this time also, that the first miracle of the love of God was worked in the area. For at that time, five denominations - Methodists, Baptists, Catholics, Episcopalians and Presbyterians cooperated to build what they called “Union” Church, just this side of Underground Atlanta, at Five Points, and on the land where Woodruff Park is located today. And that, dear friends, was no minor miracle. One historian describes Union Church thus: It was a simple clapboard structure with a gable roof and two chimneys. While seated inside during services, men and women were compelled to sit on opposite sides of the aisle, an arrangement intended to keep attention focused on spiritual matters. What is even more interesting is that since five different denominations could not have five separate services on Sunday morning, a non-sectarian service was held at that time, with individual rites being offered at other times during the day. Our historian tells us that these non-sectarian meetings were directed by Dr. John S. Wilson, a Presbyterian minister of Decatur. “Dr. Wilson,” he adds, “a man of remarkable tact, occasionally relinquished the pulpit to visiting ministers of other creeds who were equally careful to avoid doctrinal issues.” Perhaps it was the tact of Dr. Wilson, certainly the first Presbyterian minister to preach to the citizens of Atlanta, or perhaps, as I believe, and as I think the good Doctor Wilson would join me in believing if he were here, perhaps it was, as I suggested before, the first miracle of God’s love operating up and down this ridge, sitting here on the Piedmont Plateau, along Peachtree Street, and the backbone for the one hundred and fifty years of growth that have now come between us and those first, courageous, dedicated, and inspired citizens and clergy of Atlanta. These were people who had, for the most part, left their homes somewhere else, and come into the northern wilderness of Georgia to make a new home. And though, from the homes and families they had left behind, in South Carolina, or Tennessee, or in the southern and coastal sections of our own state, they seemed far-off in a new land, for them, this new land was the new home, and the new birth place for the future, the future they envisioned for themselves and for their children, and for all the people who would seek this beautiful city of Atlanta, to make it their home as well. The courage of these pioneer citizens, and their practical desire to get along in this bold new endeavor, drew them together, and for a time, let them worship under one roof. And surely, they were comforted more than once by hearing, or by reading themselves, these words of Sacred Scripture, from the letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians, which speak of the beauty, the comfort, and the peace of being in harmony with one’s neighbor’s. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have become near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, he who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his flesh… that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two, thus establishing peace, and might reconcile both with God, in one body, through the cross, putting that enmity to death by it. “… that He might create in Himself ONE new person in place of two.” What beautiful words for them - and what beautiful words these are for us today, revealing to us so much about ourselves - that the difference between us and God is eradicated by the redemptive sacrifice of Christ - that the dividing line between us and evil, or between us and the Devil, or between that generous and compassionate person we wish to be, and the sinner that always lies in each of us, just below the surface, is clearly drawn, clearly delineated by the Baptism of Christ that we share - and that in His Holy Spirit, and in His Holy Word, that Truth that erases distinctions of denomination and doctrine, and brings all men and women together in one meaning is to be found. Surely our hearts overflow with hope and with trust when we consider the beautiful reality we are able to claim in our faith, our faith in the one Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ. And surely a similar hope and faith was the guiding spirit of all these early citizens of Atlanta, as they strove to create a new civilization out of the rough wilderness, the uncut forests, and the unturned earth which confronted them in the 1840’s, and which, in the words of Genesis, they now joined together in order to “subdue and make fruitful.” Business and speculation and venture were perhaps the most visible energies appearing to anyone who might have paid a visit to our city in the last half of the 1840’s - but if one stood back, say on one of the hills to the east of the city, and gazed from a distance up and down its length, during those years it would have been the rise of the churches which would have caught the eye - for very soon, even though they had met in peace and cooperation under that one roof of Union Church - very soon, each congregation parted to build its own house, and to put together a larger structure for the Lord, than could ever be held under one roof, or according to one set of customs and traditions. The Baptists, the Catholics, the Methodists built churches, and laid out parish lines, and soon religious schools for boys and girls began to appear, and in 1847, the Presbyterians entered the scene. The beginnings were humble - and again, Franklin Garrett tells us the story: “When Dr. William N. White, (a) schoolmaster, arrived in Atlanta in October, 1847, he, being a Presbyterian, was nonplused as to his church membership. The following entry appears in his journal under date of November 8th, (1847): ‘I do not know what to do about my church membership. There are but two Presbyterians besides myself in the place and our denomination is not very numerous in Georgia. There is a church at Decatur, six miles below here, but as I do not keep a horse, it is not very accessible. There will be fine (new) churches for the Methodists, and Baptists and Episcopalians, and I hope before the end of the year, enough of our denomination may come to form a church.’ On January 8th, 1848, as Dr. White was preparing to depart for Athens, nineteen Presbyterians banded themselves together and agreed to unite in the organization of a church, to be known as The Presbyterian Church of Atlanta.” In 1852, this same fellowship raised to God the first solely Presbyterian church building in Atlanta, and it was situated on Marietta Street, where the old Federal Reserve Bank building now stands. One historian notes that “it was the finest church in town at the time, being constructed of brick and having a vestibule, a gallery, and a basement.” This was the origin and birthplace of your congregation - these nineteen were your founding fathers and mothers, and from that first outpouring of their spirit, enough life has come that now, 150 years and some months later, their spiritual progeny, their children, still gather here to worship God, to hear the Lord’s word, and to celebrate the commandment of love for one another that has always been the foundation and the preservation of this church. And so, the Presbyterians joined in the great work which was going on in the midst of the building of Atlanta - the great work of building from one end of this ridge to the other, along the spine, the backbone of the now sprawling Metropolis we call home - and of building a Temple of the Living Holy Spirit - a Temple of the Word, the Commandments and the Fellowship of Christ - a Temple where all might find a church to thank the Father in heaven for where he has brought us all - a temple from one end of Atlanta to the other, built of living stones - built of each and every individual who has put on the person of Christ, and taken their place in the formation of His Church. The prophecy of this presence of the Church in Atlanta exists for all people at all times - that we have made the Church an integral part of our culture confirms our place in the prophecy, a prophecy made clear in these words from the First Letter of St. Peter:
For it says in scripture: "Behold, I am laying a stone in Zion, a cornerstone, chosen and precious, and whoever believes in it shall not be put to shame." These words confirm the lesson that we have already heard this morning from the mouth of the Lord Himself, who instructs us on the wisdom of planting a good foundation. I think we have made the case of the good foundation, and though our city may be young when compared to the cities of the world, we have grown in size, and in wisdom, since those early days now a century and a half in the past. But the Lord Himself also reminds us not to be smug - not to rest upon our laurels - not to depend on the facts of our history, or the stability of our tradition to keep us safe. For no matter how strong our ties to the past, and no matter how enduring the work and the legacy of our ancestors, we all face, during the time of our own lives, the challenges, the assaults, and the enemies that we know are just outside the door there, up and down the streets of our city, of our home. Christ does not just say that building your home on a strong foundation is a good thing - He tells us why it is a good thing, even though we would just as soon hurry over his ominous words:
Dear friends, although I am no pessimist, it often seems to me, when I look around, that much of what has come to pass as modern culture and civilization, not only in our own city, but throughout our noble country, is now being built upon sand - the sands of self-gratification, the sands of materialism, the sands of relative morality - and that even though we may feel secure in these houses of ours, these houses that the Lord has built, we still bear a responsibility to the future - a responsibility to our children, that when the time of their adulthood comes, they will have a house, not just the house that puts a roof over their heads - but a house of the Lord - over and above the structures of society - a fortress of faith that holds within itself, their homes, their schools, their places of commerce and entertainment - a spiritual structure that is like the breath of the Holy Ghost Itself, passing like the wind through all the cracks and crevices of society. This is what we all want to happen - we want the world, and our little corner of it, to become a haven, in which our sons and daughters may live and raise their own children, free from degradation, free from sin, and free from the terrible moral weakness and decay, which threatens to bring down the body, the body of our society, the body of our American culture, and which even threatens to drain the Churches, the living body of Christ in the world, of so many souls, and so much treasure. To keep this haven for our children strong and inviting, we must once again, draw under the one roof of our Father in Heaven, just as our common ancestors drew under the one roof of that small, poor, plain clapboard building down there on Peachtree, and with every good hope in their hearts, called it Union Church. We must stand together, each in the unique fashion of our varying traditions, like good neighbors, but different families, up and down the street, who would once send the warning throughout the neighborhood, by calling to one another, across the fences, across the streets, across the side lots, when danger was present, and all needed to be on the alert, to be on guard, for the safety of their homes and their children. And drawn, so ironically, into the love that Christ commands we have for one another, by the very evil we abhor, we must face down together, the peril of seeing our society, our world, crumble away little by little, deteriorating under the force of a secular, Christ-less society. In 1960, one of the Catholic Church’s most popular leaders, Pope John XXIII, brought about a great meeting of Catholic bishops from all over the world. This meeting, called the Second Vatican Council, was to change many things about my Church, and especially about how Catholics would, from then on, get along with the other churches of Christendom. At that time, Pope John XXIII was so impressed by certain words from St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, that he caused them to be inscribed on the very doors of the chamber that was to house that great assembly of bishops. And these are the words:
So the body grows - so the body grows - a hundred and fifty years, and a million hours in the lifetimes of all those men and women, who from the original nineteen, have blossomed by faith, into the great family of First Presbyterian Church, in the present Year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and ninety-eight. A living stone in the great fortress of living stones that stretches down the ridge of the Piedmont Plateau, and holds upright, in the sight of all, the shields, the banners, the visible testimonies of Atlanta’s great faith in her Lord - a fortress of faith, that wears the many names of Christianity’s might - the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, the Church of the Sacred Heart, Central Presbyterian, First Presbyterian, Trinity Methodist, St. Mark’s, St. Luke’s, All Saints, and so many more - each, a living stone in the body, and the body grows, until it has built itself up, in love. Dear friends, as long as Atlanta shall survive, as long as we shall live, and as long as the progeny of our loins and our spirits shall persist, I pray that our church communities will continue to grow and thrive together - I pray that our peoples, through prayer and good works mutually undertaken, may be a blessing for one another and for the many communities and cultures and races that now cling so tenaciously to this urban center of life and commerce - and I pray that the faith we share in Jesus Christ will shine as brightly for us and for them, as it did for those pioneer spirits we have remembered today, who came together, in a simple town, set on a ridge among the forests of North Georgia - who learned so well to live together, to pray together, and to fulfill, despite many differences, the command of Jesus Christ, that we love one another, that we bear one another’s sorrows, and rejoice in one another’s joys. Let us close our reflection, and these moments of fellowship for our two churches, by turning one final time to the thoughts of St. Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, who confirms the salvation we share in Jesus Christ, and the power of His Word to draw us together, now and forevermore: He came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near, for through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord… a dwelling place of God in the Spirit. + |