Dying, We Live!
All Saints' Day
Isaiah 26:6-9; Rev. 21:1-6a; Luke 11:32-44
11/1/2009
Jim Melnyk

The other morning I was thinking about the lessons for All Saints' Day and I found myself thinking – now – wait for it…. The Communion of Saints – the club everyone's dying to get into. Then I thought – well, no, that's not true. We are all members of the Communion of Saints and our ministry or work as saints of God in this part of eternity takes place in this here and now – in this unfolding of the Kingdom of God, in each of our little parts of the world – in our homes – in our schools – were we work and where we play – where our neighbor struggles to find meaning and hope in life. We're part of the Communion of Saints right now – as we live and move and have our being – as we live and move in relationship with one another – we are saints of God now!
        
And then I thought about young Liam Hall, who comes to the waters of Baptism this Sunday (at 10:30) and I realized that my first instinct was true. For Baptism is in a very real sense a death to this world and a resurrection to the unfolding Kingdom of God in our midst. Dying, we live!         
        
Frederick Buechner once said, “Before it is good news, the Gospel is bad news.” Death has many faces and many incarnations in our lives. Sometimes death is thrust upon us – a job loss – a move – a divorce – critical illness – death before its time – the loss of dreams. Sometimes death comes after a long and full life – and though we grieve its reality we see it as part of the natural order of things – and perhaps we even welcome its embrace.
        
But the death we face in baptism is different from these things. The death we experience in baptism is a choice – made by us or even for us if we're young enough – like little Liam today. In baptism we choose a very real way of death as the natural pathway to new life – to the resurrection life in Christ – even if we don't always realize or claim it to be so.
        
I think about this reality and my life right now – and I think about it often because it's often one of the first things many of you ask about. At this point in time I have chosen to die to the predictability of life and the ability to have absolute control over what life will look like for me in the coming months, and to be alive to my faith in God's call to me as a priest – even in the maddening reality of temporary ambiguity. I promise you, it's not a piece of cake. In fact, the other day I was listening to the radio when a Crosby, Stills, and Nash song from my Junior High days came on the air. When they sang, “I've got the answer. I'm going to fly away,” I sang right along with them, “what have I got to lose?” But instead, I choose to remain in the uncertainty while life unfolds.
        
“Robert Capon says that Jesus never met a corpse he didn't raise. And that is true. Whether it was the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:35-43), or the widow of Nain's only son (Luke 7:11-17), or Lazarus (John 11:32-44). It seems,” says Capon, “the only qualification for being raised from the death to the new life Jesus offers is that you have to be dead” (H. King Oehmig, Synthesis 11/1/09). But we're talking about more than physical death as the calling card for the Communion of Saints.
        
We're talking about becoming dead to absolute control of our lives. Dead to the fear of ambiguity. Dead to being anxious about what tomorrow may look like – today usually needs all our attention as it is. Dead to believing the only thing that can work in our lives is what worked 15-20 years ago, or even last week. Dead to a sense of political, moral, or theological superiority over someone who may be sitting right next to us – and my friends, I'm willing to bet that's a tough one for many of us at St. Mark's.
        
It may well be true that it's less threatening to come out of the closet as a gay person at St. Mark's than as a Republican or someone who cherishes the Nicene Creed. It shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't be like that! Whether we're gay or straight, rich or poor, Republican or Democrat, one race or another, people should never have to hide themselves, or who they are, from their sisters and brothers in Christ.
        
When St. Mark's as a congregation decides its time to revision what it means to be the body of Christ in this place a lot of us might want to sing along with Crosby, Stills and Nash as well! “I've got the answer. I'm going to fly away!” And sometimes when I look at attendance since June I wonder if that's exactly what some folks are doing – flying away. Because when we're finished with this visioning thing things might look different! Oh no! New ideas for ministry might surface! Energy for something I've loved might dissipate! New leadership might emerge! Not everyone knows what we did in '64, or '84, or 2004.
        
That's part of the risk of dying to self. That's part of why we've talked about core values as we began our ongoing visioning process. What are we willing to risk at St. Mark's to continue as the faithful body of Christ gathered in this space serving God and God's people? We might lose something we love dearly – but we may fall madly in love with something new that comes out of the process! Dying, we live!
        
Jesus tells us that unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies it will never bear fruit. But when it's buried in the ground it can thrive – producing an abundance of wheat. The prophet Isaiah knew that Israel had to die to its old ways in order to live again. Later in the book God will say to the people of Israel, “Forget about the old ways – die to the old ways – turn to me and live! How can I ever forget – or ever stop loving – the child that I carried in the womb – the child that I gave birth to – the child who nursed at my breast?” says God. “Even a parent might at some point forget his or her child, but I cannot forget the love I have for you.”
        
The author of Revelation sees a vision of the New Jerusalem coming down and being established on the earth – the dwelling place of God among God's people. The old heaven and earth have what? Passed away! A new heaven and a new earth are born – heaven and earth are made new – a city of God where every person – every person – from every nation will be welcomed through open gates and where living streams and the tree of life will flourish – the ongoing incarnation of God's love for all creation made manifest.
        
When Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and I am the life,” a few verses back before today's Gospel picks up the story, he was acknowledging the reality that death foreshadows resurrection. That we have to let go before we move on to something new. Dying, we live!
        
That's where all this baptismal covenant stuff comes into play for us as followers of the one we call Christ. How willing are we to die to our pride – to our need to be in control every minute of every day – to the prejudices of this world that beat down our neighbor – that tarnish the image of God in ourselves and others – and that rob the dignity of our fellow human beings?
        
Our prayer for Liam today – and for each of us as we renew our baptismal promises – is that we all learn to see one another and this world with the eyes of God – with the eyes of a God who not only seeks to wipe away the tears of humanity, but who in the person of Jesus weeps with us at human pain and suffering and seeks to make all things new.
        
How and where is God calling you to die today? To worrying about a future whose pathway is still so ambiguous you can't figure it out yet anyway? To a schedule that's so busy someone else needs to serve on that commission or the next vestry? To a day at the lake, or the beach, or the mountains, the football stadium, or in the backyard instead of a day seeking to strengthen diversity and seeing the face of God in our neighbor, by signing up for the workshop with St. Ambrose on November 14 or a day of work on a Habitat House?
        
How and where is God calling you to die today? To the fear of dying itself? To anger at someone in your family or towards a friend? To the temptation to make fun of someone who's politics or faith beliefs are different than yours? Dying to always wanting or needing more – dying to the gods of scarcity? We all have some kind of dying to do, my friends. And if we don't think we need to be dying to something – well, then we're just lying – if only to God and ourselves.
        
But even more than that: The God who says, “See, I am making all things new,” is calling each of us to new life today – life lived within the framework of our baptismal promises – life lived within the framework of God's call to us in Christ Jesus – life lived within the framework of what it means to love God with all our heart and our neighbor as one who is like ourselves – life lived within the framework of Jesus' declaration in Bethany: “Unbind him, and let him go.” Unbind us, and let us go! Amen.

©2009 Jim Melnyk