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, 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!

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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

Sermon audio for Teresa of Avila - Oct. 15, 2009

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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!

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!

Sermon from the 4th Sunday after Pentecost

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Blackstone, VA
Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8[B] RCL), June 28, 2009
Leslie Ferguson, Seminarian
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27; Psalm 130; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

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.

Healing… what a perfect topic for a church like St. Luke’s. You have a tradition of healing ministry in this church; your Rector has a reputation within the larger Christian community regarding her profession of God’s healing power in her and others’ lives; and you are partnering with other churches in your community to carry forward God’s words of healing to a world that is desperately in need of healing.

So let me share an account of a recent story of healing I observed. A younger person, in good health, with no history of early heart issues in their family ended up visiting the emergency room on a Friday evening. Their visit was spurred on by recurrent chest pains that didn’t really fit the mold for a heart attack but were still present. After an overnight stay and a full battery of tests, including a stress test, the person was discharged in excellent health. While following up, the person admitted to their doctor and their spiritual director that they were feeling anxiety and stress from fear of failing in their chosen field. After an intervention, they admitted that most of their anxiety was caused by grading themselves against a standard of perfection that they held no other person to. The short conclusion to this story is that person began to heal their heart and their life by being forgiven and healed of their fear by prayer and their community’s action. How is this story related to the healing story from today’s gospel? You’ll probably have to bear with me for a few moments to see the connection.

The healing story from today’s gospel is one of the more recognizable stories heard in Jesus’ healing ministry. Sadly, we hear the story so often that we may not look at it critically. But that’s what I propose today, to step back from “regular” story and look at a message that I see hidden in Mark’s Gospel.

In today’s gospel we see two apparently different stories. The woman was an outsider, a person who was unclean and excluded by society because of her medical condition; contrasted with Jairus who was a prominent leader in the synagogue. But hidden in today’s account is something that ties the woman and Jairus together. What is it? We hear the Evangelist say that “the woman came to Jesus in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told the whole truth (about her healing).” Later, we hear Jesus tell Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.” Fear was the thing they shared besides being healed by Jesus. Both people lived lives ruled by fear in one shape or another. The woman was rightly fearful that she would be caught but before her healing she also feared that she would continue to be unclean, that she would become wholly destitute, and that in reality no one would be able to help her be made whole again. In contrast, Jairus was fearful that he would lose his daughter to some unnamed illness. Each of them came to Jesus with fear and trembling, not because they were in awe of his power but because they were truly afraid that their worst fear may actually become the reality of their life.

I will have to admit that fear can be both good and bad. Bad fear is one like I described; one not based in fact but based in insecurity. While good fear is one that has foundation and justification, like ultimate death from a terminal illness like cancer or heart disease. So which type of fear do we hear about in today’s gospel? I’d say in one case bad and the other – you’ll have to answer that one for yourself.

I think the woman may have had a bad but justifiable fear. She had spent all her money without avail and there was little hope that she would be made clean or whole again. And yet her worst fear wasn’t realized. Even in that fear, the woman came to Jesus hoping beyond hope that she would be healed. It doesn’t seem that she was all that confident about her possible healing because she silently slipped in from the edge of the crowd and “stole” the healing power from Jesus. However, when she was confronted by Jesus she admitted that she had been healed by him. But she had to overcome her fear, or better yet, she had to let Jesus’ presence overcome her fear of being a social outcast. She had to let her true illness be healed by Jesus’ touch.

But what about Jairus, it certainly looks like he was possessed with good fear. The loss of his daughter to illness should be considered a good fear but what other fear might he be holding onto? In his case, the commentators believe that he had to risk his personal capital as a leader in the synagogue to go to Jesus for healing because Jesus was not “acceptable” to the other leaders of the synagogue. And yet again, Jesus works to heal his real and unspoken fear to make his life whole again, this time through the healing of his daughter. Jesus overcame Jairus’ fear that his family would be broken by the death of his daughter. And Jesus healed Jairus’ fear of being outcast for believing and trusting in him and the truthfulness of his ministry.

What is it about fear that needs healing in this gospel story? What about in our lives today? It has been said that our greatest sin, the place where we need healing in our lives most frequently is in our fear and anxiety of the unknown, those things that we try to control, like our image or our imagined failings. This fear and anxiety is the biggest thing that separates us from God’s grace. But this kind of healing is almost as important if not more important than the physical healing we hear about in today’s lessons. In today’s society we live in fear, sometimes it is a good and healthy fear while often it isn’t. What fears do we have that need to be healed? I can think of a few that we hear about in our daily lives: financial concerns; not being “better than the rest;” not comparing to the standards set by our society to name a few.

Even though the church doesn’t view healing as a sacrament, healing can be sacramental: a token of God’s sacred relationship with each of us. The obvious healing in today’s Gospel is the physical healing of the woman and Jairus’ daughter, an outward and visible sign of God’s action in the lives of these two people. But I believe the healing missed in today’s Gospel is the inward and spiritual grace: the healing of the fear and anxiety impacting their relationship with God. Likewise, the healing we crave is relief of fear and anxiety in our relationship with God, with our self, and with each other. And this is the story of grace and redemption for our lives today, the active and vital participation in our lives by a loving and caring God.

How do we find our path to reach out to God for this sacrament of healing in our lives? There are many things we can do but first and foremost we need to be open to the desire for God to heal us, not only of our physical infirmities but also of our internal and emotional hurts. We can only do this by sharing our fears and anxieties with God and Christ and with our community. Second, we need to be faithful in asking for physical and emotional healing, especially in the hidden areas of our lives. Our openness will come from sharing our deepest concerns with others and coming clean with God in that community. Last, we need to be faithful in asking for healing for others, not just the things we see or the things they ask for; but for the hidden things that only God knows and only God can heal. It is from this place that we can begin to reconcile ourselves to God and to be healed of the things that separate us from fully participating in God’s family.

As we become more aware of the Holy Spirit moving in our lives and our community we will become more attuned to opportunities to share the healing power of God in Christ. We need not come to God in fear that we may not be healed, we just need to come to God in the assurance that God will truly heal the things that need to be healed in our lives… at the right time… for the greater purpose of God.
Amen!

Easter 4 Sermon at St. Anne's Reston - The Good Shepherd Sunday

St. Anne’s Episcopal Church, Reston, VA
Easter 4(B) (RCL), May 3, 2009
Leslie Ferguson, Seminarian
Acts 4:5-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Recently, I commented to some friends that I felt like my life was spinning out of control. This shouldn’t be surprising considering I’m just over 2 weeks from the end of the school year and have all the requisite stuff to do for my classes. One of my friends said that she had a mantra that might help: I should repeat “I’m in control, I’m in control” over and over until I felt like I was in control. Oddly, that didn’t help because the more I tried to get control of the situation the more maddening it became. I can only get a handle on a few things these days and I would hope those have to do with my faith and our church - things that are essential to me.

Then there’s today’s lectionary. Does it seem odd to you that there are no stories of the Resurrection in today’s readings? We are in the 4th week of Easter and we don’t have a direct reference to the Resurrection or a Resurrection story. Granted we see references to the resurrected Christ but here, just 21 days after Easter, we’ve moved past Resurrection stories into stories of action. That seems odd to me that a church that sees the Resurrection as the transformational event in its history would move so quickly away from that story.

You may be wondering why I’m struggling to find the Resurrection in our readings today and I hope you may wonder how these stories of action help us understand Christ’s redeeming action at Easter. In answer to the first question: I think, like many people, I want to hang on to the Resurrection as a sort of stable place to live and bask in Christ’s presence but I’m convicted to move when I try to stay fixed in a place with God. For my answer to the second question you’ll have to stay tuned for the next 5 or 6 minutes.

Recently, I’ve been asked to explain what the Resurrection means to me. I’ve also been asked why the Resurrection is important to us as Christians. I can’t argue with them because these are valid questions for someone who is in the process of becoming ordained in a Christian Church. Quite frankly, these questions aren’t trivial, and how we answer them is important to who we are as a church and how we witness the message of the gospel to our community.

The Resurrection is the defining event for us as Christians. I’ll grant that the world began in the Creation but our faith began at the Resurrection. Christ’s Resurrection is the creative event for Christianity. But the Resurrection isn’t that simple, even if we want to make it simple. We can’t distill a “once in an eternity” event into something as simple as “the defining moment in the faith.” The Resurrection is the event that signals a radical change or a radical shift in the perspective of our life. The Resurrection is the singular event that changes the way the world operates forever. It is in this moment that all the rules about life and death change.

But that’s not all that happened in the Resurrection. Christ rising from the dead makes our life new and vigorous. We are recreated by the power of the risen Christ. And as we experience the risen Christ we begin to see the need to live our lives differently, to make a difference in the world around us; this is where our readings come into play.

I believe that’s why there are all the references to laying down our life for others, because the example of Christ dying on the cross is one of his surrendering his human self for all of humanity. But that thought is troubling to me as I strive to be more like Christ in my daily life. Does my faith in the Resurrection and profession of a changed life mean that I have to die on the cross for someone or at least be willing to die for someone or for society? That may be where I am call to act in laying down my life and I hope I could go there but I also hope that the demands aren’t that extreme.

Dying for someone may be better understood as dying to your self. With that in mind let’s look at a few questions to challenge ourselves with. Is dying to my self complete surrender of who I am for someone else? What does dying to self really mean to us in the 21st century? Why is dying to our self a big deal for us to remember now, not just in the Easter season but in May 2009, in the midst of an economic recession and a swine flu pandemic?

First, is dying to self complete surrender of who I am for someone else? If we use Jesus’ example we may be tempted to say yes to that question. But there is something that doesn’t ring true in that response, Jesus never lost who he really was in his laying down his life and his Resurrection. He never stopped being the Incarnate Word of God, the only thing he stopped being was tied to his earthly body. Because Christ didn’t lose his essential nature I don’t think we should give up our essential nature for someone else. My experience, especially at St. Anne’s, is that I’m more successful in my ministry when I let my true self come through, when I invite people into my world and my experience of Christ at work in my life.

Second, what does dying to self in the 21st century really mean? Since we aren’t called to surrender our essential nature for the other, what might we be called to do for the other? We all have things that keep us from moving to the future with Christ; family relationships, personality traits, and insecurities. We are called to surrender the imperfect things in our life, those things that bind us to our former self, so that we can live into our relationship with the Resurrected Christ as a member of his body. And these actions are essential to help change the life of the other in our lives - that is how we mirror Christ’s surrender; that is a changed life. That is the fruit of the Resurrection.

Third, why is dying to our self a big deal today? We are bombarded with competing influences in our life and a society that will try to separate us from our life as a member of the body of Christ. Any number of us could identify things in our life that separate us from living into the full love of God. Let me name a few: self-dependence in light of overwhelming circumstances; turning inward in response to the external pressures of the financial crisis; closing our doors to others as we fear an outbreak of swine flu in our midst; reducing our interaction with our community because of fear about the future of our church; failing to move forward into those places that we are called by God, individually and communally. All these are examples of not losing our self for God.

Wow, that’s a bleak picture isn’t it? But I call us back to the present and the joys that we have in our midst. We ARE living in the light of the Resurrection. We are living a life that has been made anew by the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross and his being raised by the Father. We are a community that is willing to put itself on the line and be a witness to the Resurrection. We live our lives for the others in our ministries to the poor and underprivileged in our community - at the Embry Rucker homeless shelter, at the Jean Schmidt Free Clinic; and the list goes on. We live a life that is sacramental giving of time, talent, and treasure to help the church be a beacon to its community and spread the light of Christ so that others can enjoy a new life in Christ.

Now there is a challenge in our success: how do we move forward from here while living into the promise of the Resurrection? How do we realize the Resurrection in our lives laid down for others? We look for those moments where we experience a resurrection event in our lives as we faithfully follow the calling of Christ our Shepherd. As we begin to recognize the actions of Christ in our lives we need to share those revelations with others whom we love and who come into our lives. We need to intentionally set aside the things that keep us looking backwards to our old lives and look forward to the fullness of Christ living and acting in our community. We need to help others in our midst share in the Resurrection joy.

Moving from the Resurrection to our full and complete lives is what it is about in this the 4th Sunday of Easter. This is why we are called to lay down our lives for our friends and look to the Good Shepherd to lead us along the way. This is why we are placed into a loving and living community at St. Anne’s.

THAT is why we say:

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!