What is my feeling about hearing loss? Do I want to get my hearing back? Why or why not. There’s a part of me that wants all of my hearing restored – I do miss all the beautiful music and hearing all the things that I can’t hear (and know they are present). But there’s a part of me that has become accustomed to not being able to hear clearly. Would it be better to be totally unhearing? I don’t think so, I’m happy with where I am and the ability that I have to hear and to not hear.
Why would I care about getting my hearing back or not? Is it worth worrying about? I don’t think so – it’s not like I expect I’ll ever get my hearing restored and certainly not like I had before. I don’t ever think that I’ll be able to hear at 0-5-10 again and I’m not sure that I’ll be able to deal with all the sound that would impede on my life.
What would it mean to be “normal” again? I’m interested to figure out what it means to be “normal.” I guess it’s like everything else – it’s situational and can be defined by those who are associated with the “norm” whatever that may be. I think I’m “normal” but it’s hard being “different” than the mainstream society. But how does my life as a hearing and deafened person in a society that is dominated by hearing people.
Monday, October 26, 2009
St. Anne’s Episcopal Church, Reston, VA
Proper 25(B) [RCL], October 25, 2009
Leslie C. Ferguson, Seminarian
Job 42: 1-6, 10-17; Psalm 13; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52
How long? I have spoken this phrase more than I care to admit and the story related by the Psalmist and echoed in the gospel this morning hits close to home. Many may not know but I have been afflicted with a “mild to profound sensorineural hearing loss” for over 18 years. A long time ago I experienced spiritual healing. The irony is I believed that I would get my hearing back but after my pastor laid hands on me my hearing level actually got worse. I was disappointed but I plugged on, but with a self-generated hole inside because of my hearing loss. However, I came to realize that I was profoundly healed in this situation because I was “forced” to listen with my soul and not just go through the motions with people. The hole I created was filled by an overwhelming realization of the presence of God in my life. My healing has led me to focus my efforts on helping others become aware of the presence and providence of God in their lives.
But, this sermon isn’t about me; this sermon is about Bartimaeus, Jesus, and the crowds of people in Jericho. This sermon is about the healing that took place on that eventful day and how that healing applies to our current social situation.
We may remember that God’s law to the Israelites is summed up by “love your neighbor as yourself” yet today’s passage shows Israel not loving one of their own; they are not living in community with, or being hospitable or welcoming to Bartimaeus. I wonder how long it took Israel to become a nation that felt empowered to exclude a disabled person like Bartimaeus. At the beginning of today’s story we see that Bartimaeus is treated worse than a Gentile – he is placed squarely outside the margin in society. And yet, Bartimaeus interacts with Jesus and in his desperation he turns to his one last hope and is miraculously healed of his blindness and returned to an “acceptable” status.
Since our country’s beginning we have been a place where people came to overcome oppression and tyrannical governments. Yet throughout our national history we systemically oppressed and marginalized classes of people, often with our government’s support or at least its silent consent. Sadly this statement shouldn’t be a shock but in 21st century America there are still people who are marginalized. There are people who are systemically marginalized for the same reasons they’ve always been: race or ethnic heritage; religion or lack thereof; social status; economic status; employment status; or worse, just because they are different than our image of the norm. I must say that it is our nature, as creatures of God, to gather in groups that are alike or else we wouldn’t be humans or our animals wouldn’t be herds and flocks. Yet our quest for those who are like us sets us up as a society that excludes people for any number of “justifiable” reasons. It’s been said that both oppressor and oppressed like to be separated and affiliated with those who are just like themselves; because we feel there IS security in knowing that everyone around us is living in the same conditions (more or less) we are. Misery loves company. This isn’t right as I know it, it’s just how we are; not how we should be. But how do we change the way we are wired? What can we do to not exclude the “other?” I think today’s gospel message holds a key.
Today’s gospel is one of healing. There is the obvious healing event, Bartimaeus had his sight miraculously restored, and he was healed of the thing that separated him from the rest of society. But I see another healing of sorts in the story. Prior to Jesus’ arrival on the scene and while Bartimaeus was ignoring the crowd’s order to be quiet, Bartimaeus was an outcast, broken from society, invisible to the folks in the “in crowd.” But Jesus does more for Bartimaeus than just heal his sight, he returned him from the margin and invited him back to the road, to become a member of the society and walk with the Disciples and Jesus. By his invitation Jesus did more than just restore Bartimaeus’ sight; Jesus restored the sight and perception of the society; he made them acknowledge and recognize the marginalized person in their midst. He caused them to stop and remember the one who they had so easily forgot.
By his action, Jesus served as a bridge in the gap between the “ins” and the “outs.” He claimed a place in society for the one systemically excluded by prejudice and intolerance. He helped heal the rift that had been created in the society; the condition that allowed the Israelites to discriminate against Bartimaeus. Jesus helped fill the hole that had been created in the fabric of the community, not just the visible needs of one like Bartimaeus but the unspoken need of all the people in the Jewish society. Jesus helped create a community that better demonstrated God’s command to love one’s neighbor as oneself; regardless of their apparent sin or separation from the “ideal” of God’s kingdom on earth.
So what? This is a nice story for the Israelites; we want to believe the story has applicability for places in our world that continue to discriminate or oppress others who aren’t like them. “But not in our United States.” Yet, it struck me last weekend, when I was driving to Reston for the homelessness walk that I wasn’t going to have many issues on Saturday, even though it was raining cats and dogs and cold. Then the gravity of what I was doing set in; I was fully prepared for the weather: Gore Tex, multiple layers, and a rain coat; yet I almost forgot the people I was walking for – those who would be struggling in those same conditions because they didn’t have my stuff. They were beyond the margin in our society. When I read the Psalm for this week the image from last Saturday haunted me: I had found the marginalized in our life; I found my sight that had been missing.
But what is the challenge for us at St. Anne’s? We do a lot already. But first and foremost, we need to live the instituted by Embry Rucker at St. Anne’s over 40 years ago. But that’s not enough, we cannot rest on our past, we have to continue to move the message of God forward into our community and our world. We must consciously look for those people who are marginalized by our city, nation, and world. We cannot assume that if we don’t see them they aren’t there. We have to call into our faith community and our society all people, especially those who are or have been systemically marginalized. We must continue to be an advocate for healing in our society in our outreach ministries like: the Homelessness walk; in FACETS; our participation with Reston Interfaith; our national and international mission trips; and the assistance for the underprivileged in our midst. We need to continue to live out the good news of God’s salvation through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Christ until all people are liberated from oppression.
All people need healing of one type or another. God heals all people, not always in ways we see immediately not always in ways we expect but God is always present to heal our lives. God heals all wounds and infirmities – some take more time and patience than others. We participate in God’s healing of all by searching for God’s presence in ourselves and all people in our midst. We participate by witnessing to God’s providential interaction with all humanity. Then, and only then, can we bring true healing to our world. Then, and only then, will we be healed of our brokenness. Then, and only then, can we be made spiritually whole.
In faith, let it not be “How long?” Rather, let it be… Amen!
Proper 25(B) [RCL], October 25, 2009
Leslie C. Ferguson, Seminarian
Job 42: 1-6, 10-17; Psalm 13; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52
How long, O Lord? will you forget me forever? *
How long will you hide your face from me?
Psalm 13:1, BCP
How long? I have spoken this phrase more than I care to admit and the story related by the Psalmist and echoed in the gospel this morning hits close to home. Many may not know but I have been afflicted with a “mild to profound sensorineural hearing loss” for over 18 years. A long time ago I experienced spiritual healing. The irony is I believed that I would get my hearing back but after my pastor laid hands on me my hearing level actually got worse. I was disappointed but I plugged on, but with a self-generated hole inside because of my hearing loss. However, I came to realize that I was profoundly healed in this situation because I was “forced” to listen with my soul and not just go through the motions with people. The hole I created was filled by an overwhelming realization of the presence of God in my life. My healing has led me to focus my efforts on helping others become aware of the presence and providence of God in their lives.
But, this sermon isn’t about me; this sermon is about Bartimaeus, Jesus, and the crowds of people in Jericho. This sermon is about the healing that took place on that eventful day and how that healing applies to our current social situation.
We may remember that God’s law to the Israelites is summed up by “love your neighbor as yourself” yet today’s passage shows Israel not loving one of their own; they are not living in community with, or being hospitable or welcoming to Bartimaeus. I wonder how long it took Israel to become a nation that felt empowered to exclude a disabled person like Bartimaeus. At the beginning of today’s story we see that Bartimaeus is treated worse than a Gentile – he is placed squarely outside the margin in society. And yet, Bartimaeus interacts with Jesus and in his desperation he turns to his one last hope and is miraculously healed of his blindness and returned to an “acceptable” status.
Since our country’s beginning we have been a place where people came to overcome oppression and tyrannical governments. Yet throughout our national history we systemically oppressed and marginalized classes of people, often with our government’s support or at least its silent consent. Sadly this statement shouldn’t be a shock but in 21st century America there are still people who are marginalized. There are people who are systemically marginalized for the same reasons they’ve always been: race or ethnic heritage; religion or lack thereof; social status; economic status; employment status; or worse, just because they are different than our image of the norm. I must say that it is our nature, as creatures of God, to gather in groups that are alike or else we wouldn’t be humans or our animals wouldn’t be herds and flocks. Yet our quest for those who are like us sets us up as a society that excludes people for any number of “justifiable” reasons. It’s been said that both oppressor and oppressed like to be separated and affiliated with those who are just like themselves; because we feel there IS security in knowing that everyone around us is living in the same conditions (more or less) we are. Misery loves company. This isn’t right as I know it, it’s just how we are; not how we should be. But how do we change the way we are wired? What can we do to not exclude the “other?” I think today’s gospel message holds a key.
Today’s gospel is one of healing. There is the obvious healing event, Bartimaeus had his sight miraculously restored, and he was healed of the thing that separated him from the rest of society. But I see another healing of sorts in the story. Prior to Jesus’ arrival on the scene and while Bartimaeus was ignoring the crowd’s order to be quiet, Bartimaeus was an outcast, broken from society, invisible to the folks in the “in crowd.” But Jesus does more for Bartimaeus than just heal his sight, he returned him from the margin and invited him back to the road, to become a member of the society and walk with the Disciples and Jesus. By his invitation Jesus did more than just restore Bartimaeus’ sight; Jesus restored the sight and perception of the society; he made them acknowledge and recognize the marginalized person in their midst. He caused them to stop and remember the one who they had so easily forgot.
By his action, Jesus served as a bridge in the gap between the “ins” and the “outs.” He claimed a place in society for the one systemically excluded by prejudice and intolerance. He helped heal the rift that had been created in the society; the condition that allowed the Israelites to discriminate against Bartimaeus. Jesus helped fill the hole that had been created in the fabric of the community, not just the visible needs of one like Bartimaeus but the unspoken need of all the people in the Jewish society. Jesus helped create a community that better demonstrated God’s command to love one’s neighbor as oneself; regardless of their apparent sin or separation from the “ideal” of God’s kingdom on earth.
So what? This is a nice story for the Israelites; we want to believe the story has applicability for places in our world that continue to discriminate or oppress others who aren’t like them. “But not in our United States.” Yet, it struck me last weekend, when I was driving to Reston for the homelessness walk that I wasn’t going to have many issues on Saturday, even though it was raining cats and dogs and cold. Then the gravity of what I was doing set in; I was fully prepared for the weather: Gore Tex, multiple layers, and a rain coat; yet I almost forgot the people I was walking for – those who would be struggling in those same conditions because they didn’t have my stuff. They were beyond the margin in our society. When I read the Psalm for this week the image from last Saturday haunted me: I had found the marginalized in our life; I found my sight that had been missing.
But what is the challenge for us at St. Anne’s? We do a lot already. But first and foremost, we need to live the instituted by Embry Rucker at St. Anne’s over 40 years ago. But that’s not enough, we cannot rest on our past, we have to continue to move the message of God forward into our community and our world. We must consciously look for those people who are marginalized by our city, nation, and world. We cannot assume that if we don’t see them they aren’t there. We have to call into our faith community and our society all people, especially those who are or have been systemically marginalized. We must continue to be an advocate for healing in our society in our outreach ministries like: the Homelessness walk; in FACETS; our participation with Reston Interfaith; our national and international mission trips; and the assistance for the underprivileged in our midst. We need to continue to live out the good news of God’s salvation through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Christ until all people are liberated from oppression.
All people need healing of one type or another. God heals all people, not always in ways we see immediately not always in ways we expect but God is always present to heal our lives. God heals all wounds and infirmities – some take more time and patience than others. We participate in God’s healing of all by searching for God’s presence in ourselves and all people in our midst. We participate by witnessing to God’s providential interaction with all humanity. Then, and only then, can we bring true healing to our world. Then, and only then, will we be healed of our brokenness. Then, and only then, can we be made spiritually whole.
In faith, let it not be “How long?” Rather, let it be… Amen!
|
Monday, October 19, 2009
Fall 2009 Quiet Day - A Reflection
A Life of Joy in a World of Anxiety
Rev. Dr. A. Katherine Grieb
My 5th quiet day – I approach this one with great anticipation.
I am amazed that I am still surprised by some of the physical aspects of the seminary. There are still things on this campus that are new to me – not just the “annuals” of the newly installed stuff. I am amazed by the St. Francis statue by the bench at the corner of the graveyard. That’s an odd combination. Then right next to that is a bridge and a bench right next to Mitzi’s yard.
I am also amazed at the insulation we have from the outside. We have room to be a place of peace and (relative) quiet in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Alexandria and Washington D.C. When we are here we seem to be protected from the community – even though there is nothing stopping an “assault.” At best we have two gates to keep people out (why?) but otherwise it’s a sidewalk and some fencing. Our only buffer is open space (like the grove, Trotter Bowl, and parking lots) – inviting to some, excluding/isolating to others.
Why do we choose to live this life of semi-isolation? What is it about the outside that keeps us here, especially on a quiet day? There is tension: we are called to minister in and to the world; we are called to come away and separate ourselves from society; we are called to be in community with others “like us.” Sometimes these feel like they are at odds.
Anxiety and joy: emotions that are opposed to each other. What (at least for me) causes these two emotions/states of being? Anxiety: isolation, self-dependence, self-reliance; joy: community, partnership, God-reliance. Anxiety: dis-trust; joy: faith. It’s interesting that this profession puts us in tension. Why? I won’t say for spiritual growth – that sounds too flippant. But there is truth there. As we grow in trust we become better able to live the life of joy because we stop making it all about us. The reality of our life is it’s all about the relationship with/between God, community, and self. To truly live joyfully we cannot be divorced from the relationship/equation. Joy, for God, proverbially resides at the intersection of our sacred-human relationship.
…shifting gears…
What is it about being wholly present with a person that prevents me from “forgetting?” Ironically, I was slightly overwhelmed yesterday in ethics class when we had a discussion about theodicy and untimely death. My immediate response was flashing back to Children’s National Medical Center and the day the 8 year old died. Not wholly surprising – that was a life changing day (no pun intended) – still, the vividness of my memory was mildly shocking. What does that say about my “suitability” to be a pediatric hospital chaplain? I don’t think it precludes the option, it just means I have to live there in joy and not anxiety.
On my own, the world can be (is) overwhelming. In community/with God, I will not be overwhelmed; I will be blessed by trying situations and I will be able to live in joy and not anxiety.
The Labyrinth
It’s not that God is at the center of the labyrinth. God is there but God is everywhere.
Why am I called to the center? Not to stay there sitting with God; I’m called to pause there, refocus on where God is; challenge where I claim God “to be;” and carry the revelation that God is wherever we stop to look for him.
Our humanity is our belief that we know where to find God – someplace besides everywhere. But the reality is God is there where we are. Our journey revolves around God, always and everywhere present. God is like (but not really like) the canvas that “houses” our labyrinth. God is the fabric that our journey takes place in/on/over/through/about/around. (How do we journey in company with God anyway?)
Our joy is remembering all the journey is with God, regardless of where we turn. We can wend our way all over creation and never leave God’s presence. God is at the center of our universe, at the center of your universe, at the center of the universe; in/of/about/beyond time and space.
Our mission is to help others see God in the fabric of life; not because we’re better at it. Rather, because we are touched by God’s presence in a special way. Because we’ve had someone point out the presence of God at our center we must share that understanding of God’s presence at the center of all life and all over.
Thanks be to God
Rev. Dr. A. Katherine Grieb
My 5th quiet day – I approach this one with great anticipation.
I am amazed that I am still surprised by some of the physical aspects of the seminary. There are still things on this campus that are new to me – not just the “annuals” of the newly installed stuff. I am amazed by the St. Francis statue by the bench at the corner of the graveyard. That’s an odd combination. Then right next to that is a bridge and a bench right next to Mitzi’s yard.
I am also amazed at the insulation we have from the outside. We have room to be a place of peace and (relative) quiet in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Alexandria and Washington D.C. When we are here we seem to be protected from the community – even though there is nothing stopping an “assault.” At best we have two gates to keep people out (why?) but otherwise it’s a sidewalk and some fencing. Our only buffer is open space (like the grove, Trotter Bowl, and parking lots) – inviting to some, excluding/isolating to others.
Why do we choose to live this life of semi-isolation? What is it about the outside that keeps us here, especially on a quiet day? There is tension: we are called to minister in and to the world; we are called to come away and separate ourselves from society; we are called to be in community with others “like us.” Sometimes these feel like they are at odds.
Anxiety and joy: emotions that are opposed to each other. What (at least for me) causes these two emotions/states of being? Anxiety: isolation, self-dependence, self-reliance; joy: community, partnership, God-reliance. Anxiety: dis-trust; joy: faith. It’s interesting that this profession puts us in tension. Why? I won’t say for spiritual growth – that sounds too flippant. But there is truth there. As we grow in trust we become better able to live the life of joy because we stop making it all about us. The reality of our life is it’s all about the relationship with/between God, community, and self. To truly live joyfully we cannot be divorced from the relationship/equation. Joy, for God, proverbially resides at the intersection of our sacred-human relationship.
…shifting gears…
What is it about being wholly present with a person that prevents me from “forgetting?” Ironically, I was slightly overwhelmed yesterday in ethics class when we had a discussion about theodicy and untimely death. My immediate response was flashing back to Children’s National Medical Center and the day the 8 year old died. Not wholly surprising – that was a life changing day (no pun intended) – still, the vividness of my memory was mildly shocking. What does that say about my “suitability” to be a pediatric hospital chaplain? I don’t think it precludes the option, it just means I have to live there in joy and not anxiety.
On my own, the world can be (is) overwhelming. In community/with God, I will not be overwhelmed; I will be blessed by trying situations and I will be able to live in joy and not anxiety.
The Labyrinth
It’s not that God is at the center of the labyrinth. God is there but God is everywhere.
Why am I called to the center? Not to stay there sitting with God; I’m called to pause there, refocus on where God is; challenge where I claim God “to be;” and carry the revelation that God is wherever we stop to look for him.
Our humanity is our belief that we know where to find God – someplace besides everywhere. But the reality is God is there where we are. Our journey revolves around God, always and everywhere present. God is like (but not really like) the canvas that “houses” our labyrinth. God is the fabric that our journey takes place in/on/over/through/about/around. (How do we journey in company with God anyway?)
Our joy is remembering all the journey is with God, regardless of where we turn. We can wend our way all over creation and never leave God’s presence. God is at the center of our universe, at the center of your universe, at the center of the universe; in/of/about/beyond time and space.
Our mission is to help others see God in the fabric of life; not because we’re better at it. Rather, because we are touched by God’s presence in a special way. Because we’ve had someone point out the presence of God at our center we must share that understanding of God’s presence at the center of all life and all over.
Thanks be to God
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Fall 2009 Quiet Day - A Life of Joy in a World of Anxiety
Fall 2009 Quiet Day
A Life of Joy in a World of Anxiety
Rev. Dr. A. Katherine Grieb
My 5th quiet day – I approach this one with great anticipation.
I am amazed that I am still surprised by some of the physical aspects of the seminary. There are still things on this campus that are new to me – not just the “annuals” of the newly installed stuff. I am amazed by the St. Francis statue by the bench at the corner of the graveyard. That’s an odd combination. Then right next to that is a bridge and a bench right next to Mitzi’s yard.
I am also amazed at the insulation we have from the outside. We have room to be a place of peace and (relative) quiet in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Alexandria and Washington D.C. When we are here we seem to be protected from the community – even though there is nothing stopping an “assault.” At best we have two gates to keep people out (why?) but otherwise it’s a sidewalk and some fencing. Our only buffer is open space (like the grove, Trotter Bowl, and parking lots) – inviting to some, excluding/isolating to others.
Why do we choose to live this life of semi-isolation? What is it about the outside that keeps us here, especially on a quiet day? There is tension: we are called to minister in and to the world; we are called to come away and separate ourselves from society; we are called to be in community with others “like us.” Sometimes these feel like they are at odds.
Anxiety and joy: emotions that are opposed to each other. What (at least for me) causes these two emotions/states of being? Anxiety: isolation, self-dependence, self-reliance; joy: community, partnership, God-reliance. Anxiety: dis-trust; joy: faith. It’s interesting that this profession puts us in tension. Why? I won’t say for spiritual growth – that sounds too flippant. But there is truth there. As we grow in trust we become better able to live the life of joy because we stop making it all about us. The reality of our life is it’s all about the relationship with/between God, community, and self. To truly live joyfully we cannot be divorced from the relationship/equation. Joy, for God, proverbially resides at the intersection of our sacred-human relationship.
…shifting gears…
What is it about being wholly present with a person that prevents me from “forgetting?” Ironically, I was slightly overwhelmed yesterday in ethics class when we had a discussion about theodicy and untimely death. My immediate response was flashing back to Children’s National Medical Center and the day the 8 year old died. Not wholly surprising – that was a life changing day (no pun intended) – still, the vividness of my memory was mildly shocking. What does that say about my “suitability” to be a pediatric hospital chaplain? I don’t think it precludes the option, it just means I have to live there in joy and not anxiety.
On my own, the world can be (is) overwhelming. In community/with God, I will not be overwhelmed; I will be blessed by trying situations and I will be able to live in joy and not anxiety.
The Labyrinth
It’s not that God is at the center of the labyrinth. God is there but God is everywhere.
Why am I called to the center? Not to stay there sitting with God; I’m called to pause there, refocus on where God is; challenge where I claim God “to be;” and carry the revelation that God is wherever we stop to look for him.
Our humanity is our belief that we know where to find God – someplace besides everywhere. But the reality is God is there where we are. Our journey revolves around God, always and everywhere present. God is like (but not really like) the canvas that “houses” our labyrinth. God is the fabric that our journey takes place in/on/over/through/about/around. (How do we journey in company with God anyway?)
Our joy is remembering all the journey is with God, regardless of where we turn. We can wend our way all over creation and never leave God’s presence. God is at the center of our universe, at the center of your universe, at the center of the universe; in/of/about/beyond time and space.
Our mission is to help others see God in the fabric of life; not because we’re better at it. Rather, because we are touched by God’s presence in a special way. Because we’ve had someone point out the presence of God at our center we must share that understanding of God’s presence at the center of all life and all over.
Thanks be to God!
A Life of Joy in a World of Anxiety
Rev. Dr. A. Katherine Grieb
My 5th quiet day – I approach this one with great anticipation.
I am amazed that I am still surprised by some of the physical aspects of the seminary. There are still things on this campus that are new to me – not just the “annuals” of the newly installed stuff. I am amazed by the St. Francis statue by the bench at the corner of the graveyard. That’s an odd combination. Then right next to that is a bridge and a bench right next to Mitzi’s yard.
I am also amazed at the insulation we have from the outside. We have room to be a place of peace and (relative) quiet in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Alexandria and Washington D.C. When we are here we seem to be protected from the community – even though there is nothing stopping an “assault.” At best we have two gates to keep people out (why?) but otherwise it’s a sidewalk and some fencing. Our only buffer is open space (like the grove, Trotter Bowl, and parking lots) – inviting to some, excluding/isolating to others.
Why do we choose to live this life of semi-isolation? What is it about the outside that keeps us here, especially on a quiet day? There is tension: we are called to minister in and to the world; we are called to come away and separate ourselves from society; we are called to be in community with others “like us.” Sometimes these feel like they are at odds.
Anxiety and joy: emotions that are opposed to each other. What (at least for me) causes these two emotions/states of being? Anxiety: isolation, self-dependence, self-reliance; joy: community, partnership, God-reliance. Anxiety: dis-trust; joy: faith. It’s interesting that this profession puts us in tension. Why? I won’t say for spiritual growth – that sounds too flippant. But there is truth there. As we grow in trust we become better able to live the life of joy because we stop making it all about us. The reality of our life is it’s all about the relationship with/between God, community, and self. To truly live joyfully we cannot be divorced from the relationship/equation. Joy, for God, proverbially resides at the intersection of our sacred-human relationship.
…shifting gears…
What is it about being wholly present with a person that prevents me from “forgetting?” Ironically, I was slightly overwhelmed yesterday in ethics class when we had a discussion about theodicy and untimely death. My immediate response was flashing back to Children’s National Medical Center and the day the 8 year old died. Not wholly surprising – that was a life changing day (no pun intended) – still, the vividness of my memory was mildly shocking. What does that say about my “suitability” to be a pediatric hospital chaplain? I don’t think it precludes the option, it just means I have to live there in joy and not anxiety.
On my own, the world can be (is) overwhelming. In community/with God, I will not be overwhelmed; I will be blessed by trying situations and I will be able to live in joy and not anxiety.
The Labyrinth
It’s not that God is at the center of the labyrinth. God is there but God is everywhere.
Why am I called to the center? Not to stay there sitting with God; I’m called to pause there, refocus on where God is; challenge where I claim God “to be;” and carry the revelation that God is wherever we stop to look for him.
Our humanity is our belief that we know where to find God – someplace besides everywhere. But the reality is God is there where we are. Our journey revolves around God, always and everywhere present. God is like (but not really like) the canvas that “houses” our labyrinth. God is the fabric that our journey takes place in/on/over/through/about/around. (How do we journey in company with God anyway?)
Our joy is remembering all the journey is with God, regardless of where we turn. We can wend our way all over creation and never leave God’s presence. God is at the center of our universe, at the center of your universe, at the center of the universe; in/of/about/beyond time and space.
Our mission is to help others see God in the fabric of life; not because we’re better at it. Rather, because we are touched by God’s presence in a special way. Because we’ve had someone point out the presence of God at our center we must share that understanding of God’s presence at the center of all life and all over.
Thanks be to God!
Teresa of Avila - Perfectionism, Excellence, and You
Virginia Theological Seminary Chapel
October 15, 2009; The Feast of Teresa of Avila
Leslie C. Ferguson
Psalm 42:1-7; Romans 8:22-27; Matthew 5:13-16
May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
Perfection… excellence… the pursuit of all things that are good and right in our ministry…
Today we celebrate the life and ministry Teresa of Avila, a 16th century Spanish nun and Christian mystic; a reformer of the Carmelite monastic movement. She was an example of tireless pursuit of an ideal for her ministry in the face of personal setbacks. We could view Teresa as our matron: she continued to strive towards the perfection of her ministry against the recommendations of her family and faith community. We are called to remember Teresa as a virtuous and exemplary Christian. Our collect today reminded us that she manifested the way of perfection; she is an exemplary teacher about the faith; and she can help us find true holiness. All these are wonderful ways to describe perfection in ministry.
I bet this next statement isn’t a shock to some – I’m a perfectionist; an “A+” personality; a Myers-Briggs “SJ;” striving for perfection is my middle name. There is an order and perfection in all things I do. In my prior life, there was no acceptance of less than perfection, or at least that’s what I always told myself; my society and community always rewarded incessant striving for perfection. I know I’m not alone in this seminary or society when it comes to a perfectionist gene. And yet, my striving for perfection did little more than make me lose my hair; lose weight; lose sleep; and lose time with my family: not ideal rewards for my efforts.
We as a society “know” about excellence and the way of perfection. It would be hard to think of a place where perfection isn’t rewarded: personal bests in sports; graduating with distinction or cum laude in school; or honored with an award like the Nobel Peace Prize or an Emmy. How do we achieve our perfection? The model I’ve always used is, “Study, Act, Practice, Do, Repeat.” This never ending cycle looks a lot like a hamster wheel - unfulfilling. But how can we break this pattern? How do we strive for perfection that satisfies, if that exists?
One would think that our Seminary and our Church would be a welcome break from the incessant need to strive for excellence. And yet, even here the most laid back person can be enticed to attempt to achieve excellence at an immeasurable cost. So where is our hope?
Today’s lessons show us a way to sanely search for perfection. The example of Teresa and the lessons on her feast day provide images that show us how to strive for an excellence that fulfills. The images of perfection we see are summed up by living in faith, hope, and love of God. We demonstrate these traits by living a life of trust and lightness in our soul. A soul that gratefully praises a loving and living God.
But how do we build this kind of trust? How do we find lightness in our soul – a state of not being weighed down by the illusion of worldly excellence and perfection? We are told in the Psalm that we grow in trust by longing for God’s presence like a deer longs for water. It is in this quietness and our silence before God that we are able to truly hear God’s voice and grow in perfection by sensing and proclaiming God present with us and around us.
In Romans, we are called to wait for adoption by God; we are told that in waiting we will find redemption of our bodies – redemption from the false perfection that consumes us and adoption into a place of true excellence. We are assured that we will not have to go alone in our toil but that the Holy Spirit will intercede for us and with us to prepare us for excellence according to the will of God. But we won’t be able to see the Holy Spirit without being present and still before the Lord; unless we get off the hamster wheel of action we will never be able to remove the barriers that we erect against our completeness in God; we will never fully sense the true and blessed relationship with God.
What is our challenge? How do we model our lives after Teresa? What is it that prevents us from living into a perfect life with God? Our challenge is letting God be perfect for us – all our efforts will always fall short on their own but with God they will succeed as they NEED to. We need to look for practices that fulfill us and challenge us to live a life that is different and in line with a holy life devoted to God present in the here and now. We only find these practices when we let the Holy Spirit guide us on the way.
We are able, when we stop trying to do OUR best, to see a better image of God present in our life and in our world. We are able, when we wait for the Holy Spirit to lead us, to find God in our life. We are able, when we wait with lightness and faith, to achieve perfection –completeness in our lives and the true reward of God’s love and grace.
As we wait for the Lord with patience we will be filled and enkindled with an unquenchable longing for true holiness; filled with the love of God; and nourished in our living and vital relationship with God. And when we do these things, we can truly say…
Thanks be to God!
Amen!
October 15, 2009; The Feast of Teresa of Avila
Leslie C. Ferguson
Psalm 42:1-7; Romans 8:22-27; Matthew 5:13-16
May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
Perfection… excellence… the pursuit of all things that are good and right in our ministry…
Today we celebrate the life and ministry Teresa of Avila, a 16th century Spanish nun and Christian mystic; a reformer of the Carmelite monastic movement. She was an example of tireless pursuit of an ideal for her ministry in the face of personal setbacks. We could view Teresa as our matron: she continued to strive towards the perfection of her ministry against the recommendations of her family and faith community. We are called to remember Teresa as a virtuous and exemplary Christian. Our collect today reminded us that she manifested the way of perfection; she is an exemplary teacher about the faith; and she can help us find true holiness. All these are wonderful ways to describe perfection in ministry.
I bet this next statement isn’t a shock to some – I’m a perfectionist; an “A+” personality; a Myers-Briggs “SJ;” striving for perfection is my middle name. There is an order and perfection in all things I do. In my prior life, there was no acceptance of less than perfection, or at least that’s what I always told myself; my society and community always rewarded incessant striving for perfection. I know I’m not alone in this seminary or society when it comes to a perfectionist gene. And yet, my striving for perfection did little more than make me lose my hair; lose weight; lose sleep; and lose time with my family: not ideal rewards for my efforts.
We as a society “know” about excellence and the way of perfection. It would be hard to think of a place where perfection isn’t rewarded: personal bests in sports; graduating with distinction or cum laude in school; or honored with an award like the Nobel Peace Prize or an Emmy. How do we achieve our perfection? The model I’ve always used is, “Study, Act, Practice, Do, Repeat.” This never ending cycle looks a lot like a hamster wheel - unfulfilling. But how can we break this pattern? How do we strive for perfection that satisfies, if that exists?
One would think that our Seminary and our Church would be a welcome break from the incessant need to strive for excellence. And yet, even here the most laid back person can be enticed to attempt to achieve excellence at an immeasurable cost. So where is our hope?
Today’s lessons show us a way to sanely search for perfection. The example of Teresa and the lessons on her feast day provide images that show us how to strive for an excellence that fulfills. The images of perfection we see are summed up by living in faith, hope, and love of God. We demonstrate these traits by living a life of trust and lightness in our soul. A soul that gratefully praises a loving and living God.
But how do we build this kind of trust? How do we find lightness in our soul – a state of not being weighed down by the illusion of worldly excellence and perfection? We are told in the Psalm that we grow in trust by longing for God’s presence like a deer longs for water. It is in this quietness and our silence before God that we are able to truly hear God’s voice and grow in perfection by sensing and proclaiming God present with us and around us.
In Romans, we are called to wait for adoption by God; we are told that in waiting we will find redemption of our bodies – redemption from the false perfection that consumes us and adoption into a place of true excellence. We are assured that we will not have to go alone in our toil but that the Holy Spirit will intercede for us and with us to prepare us for excellence according to the will of God. But we won’t be able to see the Holy Spirit without being present and still before the Lord; unless we get off the hamster wheel of action we will never be able to remove the barriers that we erect against our completeness in God; we will never fully sense the true and blessed relationship with God.
What is our challenge? How do we model our lives after Teresa? What is it that prevents us from living into a perfect life with God? Our challenge is letting God be perfect for us – all our efforts will always fall short on their own but with God they will succeed as they NEED to. We need to look for practices that fulfill us and challenge us to live a life that is different and in line with a holy life devoted to God present in the here and now. We only find these practices when we let the Holy Spirit guide us on the way.
We are able, when we stop trying to do OUR best, to see a better image of God present in our life and in our world. We are able, when we wait for the Holy Spirit to lead us, to find God in our life. We are able, when we wait with lightness and faith, to achieve perfection –completeness in our lives and the true reward of God’s love and grace.
As we wait for the Lord with patience we will be filled and enkindled with an unquenchable longing for true holiness; filled with the love of God; and nourished in our living and vital relationship with God. And when we do these things, we can truly say…
Thanks be to God!
Amen!
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