Shana Price's sermon
When I finished eighth grade, at the age of 13, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to save the world, and I was going to do it as a journalist. I would be the hero that cast out the world's evils by exposing them with the hot spotlight that is the media. I believed that those things that are truly evil are only allowed to exist because not enough people know about them. With my mighty pen, I would display the evil, and society, with this newfound knowledge, would insist it be cast out of the world forever.
On some level, this dreamy idealism stuck with me through my undergraduate education. As I rounded the corner on my senior year, I took intermediate reporting from an editor of the Seattle P-I. He had drama students come in one afternoon and pretend to be various people who had experienced a Columbine-like school shooting. We were to play reporters, so that we could role-play situations that could come up when we were real reporters. In one of these scenarios, we, the reporters, knew that this man's wife had died, though he didn't, and we were supposed to run up and interview him before he left the school. All of the sudden, nearly 10 years of planning flashed before me. This was not a profession that necessarily exposed evil, it was a profession that simply exposed, and sometimes in an evil way. I was discouraged, but I knew that my parents would freak out if I tried to change my major with only two quarters left, so I finished, and was hired before graduation at a small local daily newspaper. It didn't take long at all for me to find that my realization only a few months earlier was accurate—I was not going to be able to save the world with the almighty pen.
I left the journalistic world jaded and disappointed. Well, I thought, if I can't save the world, I'm going to use my skills to make me some money. And I did. I worked in marketing, and made a very good salary.
Only the call to save the world didn't go away, it just changed its direction. Not six months after I began making good money did I hear the beginning of my call to the priesthood. I thought this was unfortunate timing on God's part, I'm done with all that God, you saw, I did my best, and now, I'm making some money, so shoo! And just like for most of the people in this room, God didn't go away.
So here I am at seminary. Now I am called to many things, but I am thankful that slaying "The great dragon … that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan" isn't on my to-do list. But this doesn't get me off the hook, nor any of you. The last time I checked, there aren't any dragons flying around, thumbing their noses at Angels, but there is no shortage of evil.
Watching the footage of the devastation after Hurricane Katrina and the overwhelming floods, I was so ashamed. Here were these people, the ones Jesus called me to love as I love myself, who had lost loved ones or their lives, and mainly because they were poor. I saw them when I was down in New Orleans, only a few months ago on Plunge, and I didn't do anything to help. And not only did I do nothing to help, I didn't call on my government to help until it was too late. I sat idly by and let the evil that is poverty continue, unchecked.
Evil surrounds us. Evil is what keeps us from loving God, and loving our neighbors as ourselves. Now if it weren't for that pesky baptismal covenant, I could shrug my shoulders and declare that it isn't my problem. But it is, it is because I signed on as a Christian, and only two days ago, when I renewed my baptismal vows, I vowed that I will seek to serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself. And I vowed to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. And with this battle cry, I am ready, to march out there and slay evil just as St. Michael and All Angels did.
But then evil undermines my confidence. I think, the problems are so big, and I'm only one person. And I don't know where to start. I don't even know that I'll make a difference. And like everyone else, I'm busy, and there will still be evil around when I'm done being busy. But it is in these moments when I feel like the whiniest, most spoiled, most privileged child ever. Because I am only one person, but God doesn't ask me to go it alone. In fact, I agreed to work for dignity, justice and peace, with God's help. And not only that, but many of you all did too. Just as Dean Hall said in his sermon on Tuesday, we are a community, and a community can change the world.
We can begin here at Seabury. Though Seabury has made great strides against the "isms", the institution has a long history, and it is difficult to separate the institution from its racist, sexist, hetero-sexist, privileged roots. Instead of being defensive of the institution we love, let's agree that as a human institution it will be flawed, and work lovingly to move the institution toward just and right behaviors.
We can make sure that when we see injustice, we expose it. And let us not forget that often times we are the cause of injustice, individually, and in our combined actions as an institution. This is a human institution after all, and thank God, Jesus died for our sins, individually and communally. We can dispel institutional injustice lovingly, knowing that it is very likely that that injustice was instituted with the best of intentions.
And we can work through already organized groups such as the anti-racism committee, the Breck society, the Episcopal Peace Fellowship, by visiting Hilda's Place and St. Leonard's House. We can work together against poverty so that another community does not experience the human devastation that the southeast experienced. And we can work with the Red Cross and other organizations to help those in need right now.
And with the experience of dispelling the injustice right here and now, we can move into the world slaying the evils just as St. Michael did.
I am only one person, and my pen is not that mighty, and I can't save the world by myself, but I bet we can. Not just you and me, but you and me and God. Together with God, we can work toward a society where each and every human being can expect dignity, justice and peace. Will you work with me?