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Home Page
The Rector's Welcome
Worship
Sermons
Music & the Organ
Newsletter
Schedule & Events
History
Programs & Ministries
Tour the Building
Links
Map & Directions
Monthly Calendar
Home Page
The Rector's Welcome
Worship
Sermons
Music & the Organ
Newsletter
Schedule & Events
History
Programs & Ministries
Tour the Building
Links
Map & Directions
Monthly Calendar
Fr. J. D. Ousley
23 October 2006Is. 53/Mk“Ransom Demand”
In the Name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.
A few years ago, I read Scott Smith's thriller, A Simple Plan. I enjoyed the book so much that when his second novel, The Ruins, came out last summer, I borrowed it from the library.
I found The Ruins to be simply terrifying. One of those books that's hard to put down.
I don't want to spoil the plot for those of you who might want to read it (though I'll warn you that it's not for the squeamish!) I can say that the novel describes a group of middle-class tourists in their twenties, mostly American. The tourists are vacationing at a Mexican beach resort, and in the course of the story, they find themselves trapped in an isolated jungle, menaced by a strange supernatural enemy.
While the plot is determined by that demonic force, the book isn't explicitly about religion. Yet the situation of the characters in the novel presents a particular challenge to Christian readers.
The fun-loving suburbanites in The Ruins who were about to begin jobs or graduate school and whose main worries the day before were when to go to the beach and when to have their first drink of the day — these vacationers suddenly face one dire threat after another.
So they have no choice but to consider what they believe about death. And facing death together, each individual must decide if he or she would give up his or her life to save the community.
Today's Gospel reminds us of the primary Christian teaching that Jesus "came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."
Of course, Christ's offering of himself is unique. No other human being could save the souls of his fellow humans by dying for them.
Yet while Christians have recognized that they can't "ransom" souls that have been "captured" by sin as Jesus did, Christians still might find themselves in circumstances where following Christ would mean sacrificing their lives.
Christians, for example, who make a political stand on behalf of others may put themselves in mortal danger — like Bishop Alberto Ramento, former Prime Bishop of the Philippine Independent Church — a church with which we are in communion. A few weeks ago, Bishop Ramento was assassinated because of his criticisms of the Philippine government.
And those of us who aren't in imminent danger still have to ask ourselves what we are willing to risk to follow the example of Christ's sacrifice.
One part of that self-examination will be distinguishing real risks from artificial risks. As I wait in line to buy a newspaper in the morning, I frequently stand behind people who are purchasing lottery tickets.
These folks gamble relatively small amounts of money; the vast majority of them will lose their bets, but the failure will probably be minimal and they'll have enough money to try again. Life may be a lottery — but life is not a lottery ticket!
Like the risk athletes take that they lose a match, playing the Lotto is only a game. Many of the risks we take are minimal. Many of things we worry about aren't worth worrying about.
It's interesting to note the context in which Christ makes his prediction that he will sacrifice his life as a "ransom." In the Gospel lesson, this ultimate risk contrasts with a trivial risk that is bothering his disciples. James and John are arguing about which of them is the greatest — who will have the best seat in Heaven.
Jesus quickly brings his disciples down to earth. He urges them to look for what they can give to others instead of what they can gain for themselves.
It's like when a baseball player gets hit by a pitch: the commentator may joke that the batter "took one for the team." The blow was painful, but at least the player got on base.
By comparison, James and John, instead of trying to win the MVP award, should consider the possibility that they would need to give up their personal glory on behalf of their Christian community.
So Christians in urban areas like New York may find that, for them, commitment brings the risk that they will have to take criticism for the team. And today, there are few cultural rewards for identifying yourself with the church.
People criticize the church even when they know very little about it. They think you believe irrational things which you wouldn't consider for a moment believing and which have nothing whatever to do with your faith.
Or critics of the church associate you with unpleasant Christian stereotypes; they think you must hate the world and hate yourself. One answer to the skeptics is to show by word and example good ways in which Christ's offering of himself for us inspires us to offer ourselves for others. We must find ways to show the world that we can "walk in love, as Christ also loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God."
If we aren't willing to take spiritual risks, if our lives would be the same without religion — then we're not bearing the cost of discipleship.
One way, for instance, that we might judge this cost is to ask for what we are willing to fail. In our work, what risks would we take to help a struggling colleague — even if we ended up looking bad ourselves?
Or consider the not unusual occurrence of trying to help a friend who often acts against her own best interests. The friend who refuses help; who ignores good advice; who snaps at you when you try to encourage her.
You may often feel that "no good deed goes unpunished!" And yet you keep trying. You absorb the ungrateful barbs and you go on helping your friend get onto the right track.
This "witnessing for our faith" may seem daunting. But then we should remember how much harder it might be. We should remember the real risks Christians take. Think of that heartbreaking example of Christian sacrifice that recently made headlines.
After the Amish school kidnapings, a surviving child reported that her sister, in order to buy time for her fellow students, said to the kidnapper, "Shoot me first."
"Shoot me first." This 11-year-old knew what she would die for. And she did.
An act of almost inconceivable bravery. Such courage in the face of death is as rare as it is precious.
Even though we will likely never face such a tragic choice, the sacrificial witness of this young girl and other Christians forces us to consider our own lives.
What do we devote our energies to? What goals are we "offering" ourselves for? What risks are we willing to take?
The Old Testament lesson that we heard read today contains the noted passage about "the suffering servant." The Prophet Isaiah believed that the Messiah would be called to suffer and die for his people; Christians later came to understand Jesus as the fulfilment of this prophecy — as the promised Messiah of God.
And while the Messiah would be called to suffer, all was not lost. For, Isaiah wrote, "Out of his anguish he shall see light."
Good words for us — when we are called upon to offer ourselves for the service of others. For we give ourselves with Christ and in Christ. And through our suffering, we too discover that out of our anguish we shall see light.
And now unto that same God Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be ascribed as is most justly due all might, majesty, power, dominion and praise, now and forever, Amen.