Sermon

St. Philip's Episcopal Church, Durham, NC

6/24/06 - Sarah Ball-Damberg's Ordination

The Rev. Scott A. Benhase

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way." That's how Charles Dickens begins his classic book, A Tale of Two Cities. He may as well have been writing about our present time. For surely we live in an age that is both wise and foolish. Many of us live in a season of light, but for so many people in our world the season is stuck in perpetual darkness. Hope and despair seem to flip flop from one day to the next. At times heaven seems so close even as so many live a hell on earth.

While medical innovations have done remarkable things like creating near life-like artificial limbs, we must recognize that those fake limbs are necessary because we humans also create bombs that blow the real limbs off our bodies. We live in the best of times and the worst of times.

Farmers throughout the world are able to grow efficiently and effectively more than enough food to feed the entire world with plenty left over. But world politics dictates who gets more than their share of the food and who will have to die from malnutrition.  We live in a season of light and a season of darkness.

We live in a time when human freedom is breaking out almost everywhere. But at the same time, many of the proponents of such freedom believe it gives us license to abuse the earth, corrupt the environment, and throw away any leftovers. We live in the spring of hope and the winter of despair.

Of course, it's always been such. Only the most self-centered and narrow-minded among us would insist that our present day is any better or any worse than Dickens' industrialized England of the 19^th Century or the revolution in France in the 18^th Century. Human beings may live longer now, but we have yet to learn how to turn our backs on evil and study war no more. Human nature is, well, human nature. And sin being what sin is, we must agree with the Preacher from Ecclesiastes: "there is nothing new under the sun."

Yet, what is different today is our ability to see events on our television sets as they happen and to read about them on the Internet in real time. Thus, life is much more visual and immediate than it has ever been before.  Life happens much faster these days. Our children must learn to multi-task before they enter grade school. We no longer believe we have the time to reflect on what we have done or left undone; what we might choose to do or not do. Our capacity for moral and spiritual contemplation has become stunted and shriveled because such work (and it is work, hard work) simply takes too much time. We now "spend" time or "manage" time as if it were a commodity to be traded. We think we have no time to simply pass the time away. Like Dickens, we must agree we have everything before us, and yet we have nothing before us.

That's why what we witness today, the ordination of a priest, may seem like a "waste" of time. Apart from the time involved, we may even question the sanity of such an action. Any person who would willingly accept a call to the priesthood of the Church in times like these should rightly be suspect. She, as the saying goes, ought to have her head examined, which of course, is exactly what we do. As you no doubt know, we in the church put candidates for ordination through rigorous psychological examinations. And then we only ordain those who are found to be of sound mind. Maybe we are making a mistake? Bishop, maybe we should only ordain priests who are, as my grandmother used to say: "Crazier than a June Bug?" After all, St. Paul tells us that if we want to be disciples of Jesus, then we'll appear to the rest of the world as no more than "fools." As usual, St. Paul is right. Today, we come together on a fool's errand; to witness the Holy Spirit do another foolish thing: make Sarah Ball-Damberg a priest in the one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.

One of my mentors who helped shape me and lead me into the priesthood was a Methodist Pastor named Tex Evans. Tex described himself as "the biggest liar to ever come out of East Texas." He could weave a tall tale and tell some big lies. Tex worked among the poor of Appalachia for his entire ministry. In the late 60s, he had an epiphany. Tex saw all the horrible poverty among his people at the Redbird Mission in eastern Kentucky. He also knew that there were church youth groups across the country who were full of idealism and a desire to help. So, Tex proposed bringing them together. His vision was to bring these youth groups to Appalachia so they could fix up and repair people's homes. The groups would pay for this privilege. And they'd receive a crash course in the culture and economics of poverty. To make this work, Tex needed a base of operations. So, he asked the Board of Trustees of tiny Union College in eastern Kentucky to let him use their facilities to house the youth groups over the summer. The Board heard him out and then asked him to wait outside while they deliberated. An hour later, the President of the college came out to tell Tex their decision. He said: "Pastor Evans, the Board talked about this for a long time. We concluded this whole thing was just a bunch of foolishness; that only a fool would do such a thing. And, Pastor Evans, we think you're just the fool to do it!"

Sarah's ordination today is just a bunch foolishness to the world. It's merely high drama with lots of pomp and some elegant haberdashery. But it's necessary foolishness. It's the kind of foolishness God uses to reconcile the world to himself. Please don't misunderstand my use of the term fool. I'm not making light of what the Holy Spirit is doing here today. By ordaining Sarah the Church is making both a proclamation and a protest. We're proclaiming that all people are called to follow Jesus and that some are called to follow him as priests. But we're also protesting. We're protesting against all ideologies and political systems which deny, distract, or dissuade people from their promised destiny in God.

The Church is saying to Sarah that we're taking her on as a "hired hand." But not like the hired hand in John's Gospel. She's hired on to take the heart of Jesus to the many folds of the Good Shepherd. Her call is to tell the story of the Good Shepherd; to tell it truthfully; to tell it rightly. Indeed, that's the Church's call as well: to be a community where the story of Jesus is told and told truthfully and rightfully. The more we hear his story, the more we are both comforted and challenged. Jesus comforts us with his unmerited grace and he challenges us to an impossible vocation. That's why ordination is always a fool's errand.

There's a book I read every Lent called, A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller. It's about a post-apocalyptic Christian monastic order: The Order of Leibowitz. At the end of the book, the Monastery's old Abbot is nearing death and a new one needs to be chosen. A young monk is put forward, but he's scared.

He says to the Abbot: "Father, I'm not certain. What will this mean?"

The old Abbot replies: "It means you'll be asked to be the ass on which Jesus rides into Jerusalem. It's a heavy load and it'll break your back, because He's carrying the sins of the world.

The young monk replies: "Then I don't think I'm able." The old Abbot answers: "Able? None of us has been able. But we've tried, and we've been tried. It tries you to destruction, but you're here for that. This Order has had abbots of gold, abbots of cold steel, abbots of corroded lead, and none of them was able. The gold got battered, the steel got brittle and broke, and the corroded lead got stamped into ashes. Me. I've been lucky enough to be quicksilver; I spatter, but I run back together somehow."

"But Father I'm scared," the young monk answers.

"Steel screams when it's forged, my boy, it gasps when it's quenched. It creaks when it goes under load. I think even steel is scared. If it makes you terrified, then scream. If it makes you anything, then pray. But come into church before Mass and tell me your answer.

Right before mass begins the young monk comes to the old Abbot and says: "If they choose me, I accept the honor." The abbot smiles and says:  "You heard me badly. I said burden not honor. Are you still certain?" The young monk replies: "If they choose me, I shall be certain."

Sarah, please stand. If you're not scared, you should be. If you are certain, you shouldn't be. Your certainty will come when Bishop Curry lays his hands on your head and the Holy Spirit makes you a priest.

I want to leave you with three thoughts:

As a Priest, first and foremost, be hospitable to others, to your family, and to yourself. The New Testament word for hospitality is philoxenia, which literally means "to love strangers." It's the exact opposite of xenophobia, which is a fear of strangers, a disease our fellow Americans seem to have these days. Sometimes we are strangers even to ourselves. So, practice hospitality to all.

Secondly, be generous with the sacraments of the New Covenant. They are not yours to hoard, but you are entrusted with them so you can give them away. They are God's gifts to us and God gives them to us so that we may abide with the One who has loved us all the way to the cross.

And lastly and most importantly, be flagrant with the Word of God; for it is truly the only hope for this world. Don't be one of them fancy preachers that tries to impress people with intellectual brilliance. Just preach the Word plainly and truthfully. When such truthful preaching occurs, Annie Dillard says the following happens. She says: "We should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life jackets and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews." Such is the power of God's holy Word plainly preached. And it's God's Word that will sustain us all - in the best of times and in the worst of times. Amen.

"So you think that because of her weaknesses Christ will forsake her? The worse his church is marred by our failures, the steadier he will support her with his tender care. He could not deny his own body."  Dom Helder Camara 

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