Feast of Saint Clare, Transferred

Preached at St. Clares, Ann Arbor- August 8, 2004- Feast of St. Clare (transferred)

Did you ever notice how often the good news of the Gospel begins with “Do not be afraid”? My friends Micah and Laura, a couple I know at seminary, have a line sort of like this. Laura was driving to her job in Wisconsin one morning, and the car broke down on the way. She called Micah to tell him the news, and started out by saying, “Honey? Remember the car?” Whenever one needs to tell the other news, they soften it by saying “Honey… remember the car”? Its just the kind of sentence to put you on guard, so that whatever follows probably won’t be quite as bad as you might imagine. I think that “Do Not Be Afraid” is God’s conversation starter, the way to soften what comes next. It usually proceeds some piece of great news, such as earlier in Luke’s Gospel when we hear: “Do Not be Afraid, Mary… you have found favor with the Lord”. Finding favor with God? Fantastic! What would there be to fear in that case? Of course, we all know what Mary got for her favor- a pregnancy out of wedlock, at a time when that meant being shunned at best, and stoned at worst. God had good reason to think Mary might be afraid and Mary had good reason to be afraid. And what about this passage? Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Awesome! God wants to give us the kingdom! Of course, a couple chapters earlier in Luke’s Beatitudes, Jesus tells us that the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor. And, we get it again here: Sell your possessions and give alms.

Giving up our stuff. Should that be so scary? A big part of me wants to say no. I know that life is more than what I own. But at the same time, I am quite attached to my stuff. I’m happy to give away some of those skirts I don’t wear very often… but not the one my friend brought me from Kenya! It has sentimental value! So do some of those Cds I’m hanging onto, some of the posters that aren’t even hanging up, and most of the trinkets I could easily sell at a yard sale and give away the profits. I’ll gladly give away some of my stuff- but all of it? That’s the work of saints.

In fact, that was the work of Saint Clare. You remember her story: Clare was the daughter of a wealthy family in Italy. Like many saints, Clare is said to have been an especially pious child, always loving and serious, seeking a deep spiritual life. At the age of 18, Clare met Francis, and ran away from home in the middle of the night to follow the Gospel after Francis’ teachings. Her conversion included renouncing all of her wealth – much to the dismay of her wealthy family- and her followers became known as the Poor Clares. Giving up possessions, and giving alms to build up a treasure in heaven- that was Clare’s whole thing! And there was certainly plenty to fear in doing so, including angry relatives and invading armies, let alone worrying about what to eat every day. Despite the obstacles, Clare clung to the rule of poverty throughout her life. Clare insisted that the vow of absolute poverty be maintained by her order. The Pope believed she just did not want to reverse her own vow, and offered to absolve her of the promise. Clare replied, “I wish to be absolved of my sins, but not of my obligation to follow Jesus Christ.” 800 years later we are still celebrating the remarkable way she lived her life and followed her Lord, and we believe that she was rewarded in heaven.

But I believe that Clare’s life was about more than being poor. Here is the thing: Clare isn’t famous just for being poor. Many people live in worse poverty around us every day. I don’t want to say to them “Don’t worry about being poor, because that heavenly bank account is growing each day”. Jesus is not about romanticizing poverty, or giving us ways to justify the poverty we see in the world. Jesus is absolutely concerned about our stuff, our material goods, and how we use them in the here and now. Most of us have more than what we need, and are looking for ways to simplify our lives already. The popularity of magazines like “Real Simple” and clean and simply styled offerings of places like IKEA show us that.

So, what is there to be afraid of? I don’t think that the deep fear presented in this story is the fear of losing our stuff, that Jesus will call us to be less materialistic. The fear in this passage is deeper than that, and it is a fear that connects us here, today in Ann Arbor, with the people who would have heard Jesus say these words the first time around. Here is the thing about giving up stuff: we are afraid of losing our voices along with our stuff. Money is power – it was then, it is now. And while power may cause an awful lot of problems, power can also do a great deal of good. I believe that. I think many of us believe that. Its why we serve on trustee boards for local non-profits. Its why we work for promotions. Its why we vote in elections. Jesus isn’t just asking us to look at economic distribution- although that is certainly in this passage- Jesus is talking about priorities. Jesus is asking us to give up our power and our voices, at least, in the ways we are used to using them.

St Clare did just that. At a time when women had no voice in regular society, and had only a small voice in high society, she gave it all up. Yet, in giving up her voice, the power she would have had in society and trusting in God’s power, Clare became one of the most beloved saints of the church.

God begins good news with “do not be afraid” because God doesn’t want us to kid ourselves about what it means to follow Jesus. It means realigning our priorities. It might even mean turning the world upside-down. Clare is patron saint of television, so I would practically be remiss to not quote my favorite TV show, The West Wing, in this sermon! So, there is a character named Toby, who is cynical and curmudgeonly, towards the end of the season, he becomes the father of twins. He is talking about his newborn twins with Leo, the chief of staff. He tells Leo he is afraid he won’t love his kids like other fathers do. He says, “When you’re pregnant, everyone tells you how whats important to you will change. But I like whats important to me. I think it is important, and I don’t want that to change.” Things that were important to us may not be important any more. The way we all thought power worked, Jesus is trying to tell us that there is something more true than that.

When we are not afraid to follow Jesus, we are less concerned about getting what we want and more concerned about wanting what we’ve got. When we are not afraid, our minds can be quiet enough to hear that still small voice of the Spirit leading us along. When we are not afraid to follow Jesus, we take risks like sharing our meals with outcasts, caring for hurting people we have never met in a country we’ve never visited, and loving people we thought were unlovable.

Being asked to change our priorities, to look at the world in a new way, to transform our power, our voices, and our selves- it must be scary because Jesus and Clare both made a point of telling us not to be afraid.
Being asked to change our priorities, to look at the world in a new way, to transform our power, our voices, and our selves is a frightening thing. Its been known to change the world. But then again- isn’t that what God’s amazing love is all about?

In our story for today, Jesus tells us: Do not be afraid to worry about different things, focus on different things- even though it may seem like the world it being turned upside-down. Isn’t this world a place that could use some turning anyway? Start with that stuff, that extra stuff in our lives, and little by little we will find ourselves in the midst of the kingdom. Here is what Clare said, what she learned from her own life and her prayer for her sisters and brothers on the road: “Live without fear, your Creator has made you holy, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Go in peace to follow the good road and may God’s blessing be with you always.”

Random Thoughts from Both the Old Testament And my Head

My final assignment for the class with Prof. Brueggemann:

1. The Old Testament presents us with several dichotomies. Judgment and mercy are held in tension. Claus Westermann has described two theologies, one of deliverance and one of blessing. Yet, the Old Testament refuses to synthesize or homogenize opposing views, and insists only that they be held together in tension. A theology of the Old Testament must therefore a theology of “both/and”. Both/and theology is found in the struggle to hold the opposing truths of God without compromising either. Favoring one extreme to the neglect of the other is not “both/and”, that is the usual either/or language. Either/or language leads to reductionism, fundamentalism, and schism in the Church. Both/and theology is not concerned with final decisions, but is concerned with hearing voices and finding a path through the confusion. It is a process more than a decision, and hopefully, a process that leads to humility, cooperation and greater imagination.

2. Both/and theology leads us to the interconnectedness of life in Israel. The Old Testament is surely about Israel’s witness to the actions and presence of YHWH in their midst. It is also about Israel itself. The intertwining of themes, stories and theologies- and the refusal of the redactors and the faith community to homogenize them, teach us that nothing stands outside of relationship. The “P” source and “D” source, and their conflicting emphases on cultic order and socio-economic justice, are woven throughout the Old Testament. This intertwining of P & D source indicate the inseparability of socio-political from religion in Israel. The Old Testament tells of YHWY working through an individual, but the community is also brought into the action. The promise of YHWH to Abraham is a blessing to the community. Revelation to Moses at the burning bush is on behalf of Israel, and started through the crying out of the community. The intertwining of individual and community both within and among narratives indicate the inseparability of the individual from the community. The intertwining of various themes and opposing theology reminds us that God is present in more than one way, and more than one opinion. These tensions and debates are left unresolved, and we are simply left to find YHWH in all of the testimony.

3. The unfinished, unresolved tensions and debates of the Old Testament bind us, as inheritors of the tradition, to continue imagining new ways and means to speak of the elusive God. Israel uses endless imagination in its God-talk, but its God-talk is continually grounded in experience of YHWH and in daily life. The tensions and debates between theologies and viewpoints are still alive, but our imaginations in our language for God are not as thriving. I believe that the debates, while not being resolved, will be more at ease in the tension when we recover this ability.

4. The central binding activity of Israel is hope, in the sense that hope allows for imagination of new possibility rather than hope for redemption of the way things are. Our ability to imagine and our ability to hope are absolutely connected. The hope that relies on imagination, the hope held by ancient Israel, is not optimism. This kind of hope changes not just what we do, but who we are. As politican Barack Obama said in his speech to the Democratic National Convention this week, it is the “audacity of hope”, “the belief that there are better days ahead”. This kind of hope can persist in faith when the lived experience gives no reason to do so. This kind of hope sustains people in living faithful lives even when doubts seem to be attacking them from all sides. For Israel, it is the kind of hope that will tell the story of the Exodus in the midst of the Exile. For modern day American, we might take some of Barack Obama’s examples: “It's the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores.” Hope keeps imagination alive, and imagination keeps hope alive. They are the fuel and the vehicle that maintain the faith of Israel.

5. Hope is the binding verb for Israel, and that hope is grounded in YHWH’s abiding presence and continued action. Therefore, the primary verb for YHWH in relation to Israel is found in Exodus 3:14: “God said to Moses, ‘I AM WHO I AM.” The God of Israel is difficult to describe. YHWH is both bound to Israel in covenant, yet fiercely independent and free. As we have noted, this creates a problem in that YHWH is not always reliable in the ways Israel might expect. However, YHWH is always YHWH, and that is the most encompassing thing that can be said.

6. If hope and imagination are the fuel and the vehicle, “covenant” is the journey. Covenant theology is a process as well. Covenant is made, but it is also being constantly broken and renegotiated. God holds Israel accountable to covenant through prophets, and Israel holds God accountable through complaint psalms and the telling of stories. This continual challenge keeps the relationship between Israel and YHWH active and engaged. YHWH’s graciousness in extending the covenant, even when broken again and again, opens the path of reconciliation and repentance.

7. As clergy doing theology we must be concerned with the ethics of Old Testament faith. The ethics of the Old Testament are available to us not just in what Israel says, but how Israel chooses to present their witness. The interweaving of competing perspectives is not just a theological statement, although it does say much about the nature of YHWH. The resistance to a homogenized testimony is also an ethical statement. For the confessional reader who grants authority to these texts, the presence of counter-testimony in the Old Testimony should awaken us to the presence of counter-testimony in our own communities. Israel refuses to silence those voices that might contradict its central claims. Israel’s ethics, as seen in the canonization process, involve keeping opposing views in conversation with one another. I believe the canon teaches us to value different voices, and to resist settling on easy compromises or solutions.

8. Israel does not talk only talk about God in direct speech, but uses narrative and story to describe God-in-relation and God-in-action. With narrative as a category of God-talk, we are able to see God at work in the miracle stories of Elijah. We are able to receive ethical directive from the story of Joseph and revelation in the story of Ruth and Naomi. Stanley Hauerwas, and others after him, have argued that narrative should be the basis of Christian ethics. Our narratives teach us about what kind of people we are, and all ethical decisions stem from how we are shaped by our narrative. In the telling and re-telling of narrative, Israel is shaping their own identity and coming to understand the identity of YHWH.

9. Because Israel believes in YHWH as the God-in-relation, it is nearly as important for an Old Testament theology to pay attention to Israel’s speech about itself as to its testimony about God. We might assume that Israel’s self-description will be biased, and most certainly that is true. However, their bias is not to paint themselves as perfect. Israel includes testimony from the prophets against themselves. The canon portrays Israel as wandering sheep and as an unfaithful wife. Yet, Israel claims their heritage as one specifically blessed by God, and claim themselves as “righteous” and “lovers of the law” in the Psalms. When speaking about themselves, as when speaking about God, Israel insists upon speaking to lived experience, even if it means saying what may be difficult.

10. In the process of adjudication everything depends on the lips of the witness, the credibility of the witness, and that the witness is given often enough to be heard! The word witness has been relegated to evangelical circles in Christianity today. We need to recover the idea of witness as central to Biblical faith in the mainstream. In the Old Testament, liturgy is a central place for the giving and hearing of witness. Stylized accounts of YHWH’s deeds and promises were repeated and passed on to new generation. Worship should continue to be the location of testimony and counter-testimony for the Christian community, but often is not. One way both testimony and counter-testimony are present in our worship life are the corpus of African-American spirituals and songs. The images of these songs includes God’s mighty deeds (Go Down, Moses) yet face the reality of despair in the world (Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen). There is call for God’s presence (Kum Ba Ya) and hope of a better future (Soon and Very Soon). This kind of liturgical renewal in the practice of testimony and counter-testimony strengthens our ability to share our witness both inside and outside the faith community.

11. The ability to witness depends on one’s ability to speak, to give voice to what one knows to be true about God, life and the world. Women have, for centuries, been given no space for traditional voice. This continues today, as research continues to demonstrate that our elementary-aged girls “losing their voices” around grade 4. Women theologians must bring this knowledge to the Bible, and be willing to search a little harder for the witness of women, even when more conventional “God-talk” is apparently absent. The book of Esther is a prime example of this work. Esther notoriously does not mention YHWH, and it appears simply to be a narrative about humanity. Yet- Israel had a reason to include the story of Esther in the canon of the Old Testament. Clearly, something is being said about God, even if we are not able to hear it in our rationalistic, western-male-dominated world of interpretation. Esther, Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth all have things to say about God, and it is the task of feminist theologians to discover their wisdom and bring it to the conversation. I say it is the task of feminist theologians for two reasons. First, the history of male-dominated scholarship has not paid enough attention to how the stories of these women may be considered as God-talk. It is inhibited by the centuries of patriarchy in the Church and the academy, despite the efforts of both men and women to shed light on the issue. But secondly, and perhaps more importantly, discovering women’s voices is, in the end, not the work of male theologians. As women, we must discover, train, and share our own voices. Men cannot give us our voice, or it will not really be our own voice. Feminist theologians should continue the task of casting light on the history of patriarchy in interpretation and doctrine, but our primary task should be articulating the truths we know of God, life and the world in our own ways and our own voices.

12. The task of confessional interpretation is to allow for community interpretation without imposing dogmatic doctrine on the text. This is, of course, speaking out of my tradition and its emphasis on liturgy. The community at worship is not only important for seeking God, it is the most appropriate place. I think that this is also congruent with the Old Testament text itself. But there is more to the task of confessional interpretation than the valuing of community. Confessional interpretation seeks to fight the individualism of the Enlightenment project, but also resisting the flattening-tendencies of authoritarian interpretation. Community interpretation upholds many voices, because communities are made of many voices. Community interpretation is willing to make decisions, but is also willing for those decisions to be a long time coming. The canonizing of the text of Scripture took several hundred years. We should not be in a rush to understand it any more quickly.

Old Testament Theology- July 14th Reflection

Israel’s Practice of Testimony: Community in the Courtroom*

I very much appreciate the metaphors of courtroom language, borrowed from Paul Ricoeur and utilized in our text. Witness and testimony language are not unfamiliar to Christians in this country, particularly those from more evangelical traditions. Evangelical traditions are known for their emphasis on individual experience and personal relationship with Christ. Yet the language of testimony and witness, when applied to the Old Testament, upholds a deep sense of community bound together by purpose and over time. First, the multitude of voices found in the text- with all the competing claims on the character of God and God’s actions in the world- have been preserved by time and tradition. This is not a community of “majority rules”, rather, it is a community where witnesses to the truth are given voice because they are of the community. Hence, we find two creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2, we encounter the sustaining God of the wilderness and the God who allows Job’s suffering. Furthermore, the role of community is preserved in the role of witness each time the community provides witness through word and action “on behalf and of the people” – that is, in its liturgical function. The discussion of testimony as thanksgiving (as discussed on pgs. 126-130) highlights the liturgical and performative function of speech: “Israel need to speak its witness out loud, for the saying is effective in affirming and enhancing the relationship”(129). In this case, as with all liturgical language, the testimony is given by and for the community, and the entire community is present in the very act of witness.
Continuing with our courtroom metaphor, is there a way to sustain this clinging to community in the adjudication and deliberation of the testimony? In this country, we are accustomed to a jury system, where verdicts are reached by the group- and can only be final if the group is in agreement. Can we extend the metaphor of Old Testament theology that far, and require some kind of consensus in our deliberations? Or are we holding a civil trial, where final decisions are made by the individual judge holding court? The consensus/jury model tempts us back towards the (sometimes suffocating) authority of church doctrine, where we are faced with the difficulty of Scripture losing its freedom to speak on its own terms. Yet, the individual/judge model lures us into the extreme individualism of modernity, and those ideals are no longer helpful either. Perhaps our best option is to understand ourselves as both judge and jury- ready to take a stand, but always knowing that wherever we stand will be impacted by the positions and deliberations of those around us. As decisions are made about the reliability of the witness, “reality is decided” (135) and then witness to that new reality proceeds. The dynamism and dialogical nature of the Old Testament is preserved through the ongoing process of adjudication by individuals and communities The trial then continues on, as the adjudicators become witnesses for the next generation. And, as noted in class, this ongoing conversation is the true meta-narrative found in the Old Testament.

*all page references are from Old Testament Theology, by Walter Brueggemann (Fortress Press, 1997.)

Awards Night

This is the paper I submitted for the W. Taylor Stevenson Award in Contemporary Theology.

Living Into the Imago Dei:
Sharing Life Now and Not Yet

“Then God said, ‘let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.” Genesis 1: 26-27

Why is it that these two short and simple verses from the first creation story have caused much controversy over the years of the Church’s life? Humanity finds the source of our identity here, at our inception. Who and Whose are we? We are those created by God, to be like God. Yet theologians and scholars from Justin Martyr to Augustine to John Calvin to Rowan Williams do not agree on what it means to be “made in the image of God”. Christianity proclaims that all of humanity is created in the image of God. Indeed, wrapped up in the concept of the imago Dei is our human identity, as well as what we can potentially be and do as human. We find our source in the God of creation, our ideal pattern in the Incarnate God who offers redemption and recreation in Baptism, with the abiding Spirit of God as guidance for the journey towards living into our true identity.
It is significant for our identity as people that the God who is imaged in humanity is the God of creation. The story of creation does not only reveal our identity as humans, but it also tells us something about the God in whose image we are formed. Christianity has affirmed that the Trinity is present in the creation of the world. The Trinitarian God is radically relational, where the three persons exist as one substance in mutuality and unity. As Christians, we also believe that the God of the New Testament is the same God active in the creation of the world. Therefore, we can understand God in creation to be the God of whom it is written “God is Love”, and that love is manifested in the creation that God calls “good”. Creation tells us much about God, and “to speak of God as creator is to speak of a beneficent, generous God, whose love and will-to-community are freely, consistently, and fittingly displayed in the act of creation” . This is the same God in whose image we are formed.
Knowing that we are formed in the image of God the creator does not mean that we are the image of God. We are still created beings, separate from and dependent upon God. We are not eternal spiritual beings, rather, we are temporal physical beings. This distinction, that humanity is made in the image of God but is not God, has caused theologians to reflect upon what part of human nature is the image of God, or rather, what nature of God is imaged in humanity. The answers to this question are numerous, but typically fall into two categories . The first highlights similarities between God and human beings, stating that some attribute of God is inherently present in the makeup and nature of each human, while the second emphasizes the relational character of the imago Dei.
The particularities of the similarities to God, or the attributes present in humanity, vary with interpretation. These views tend to emphasize the difference between (often, superiority of) humanity over the animal world. The ability to reason is the most obvious distinguishing humans ability, and early church theologians, from Irenaeus to Augustine, emphasized rationality and reason as the marker of the imago Dei. . Phillip Edcumbe Hughes follows this tradition of seeking differences between humans and the rest of God’s creatures and finds six “main respects in which this surpassing excellence of man is clearly discernible; …namely, personality, spirituality, rationality, morality, authority and creativity” . Ultimately, these are all categories of potential for individual persons, but each person must choose whether or not to fully live into their potential abilities as a way of living in the image of God. Just as God freely chose to create out of God’s own grace and love, God had the freedom to choose otherwise. The structural view of the imago Dei then leaves us with one fundamental attribute of God present in humanity, that is, free will and the ability to choose life in God’s ways.
Alternatively, others have interpreted the imago Dei “as involving the capacity for relationship with God.” Because God lives in eternal relationship as Trinity, being made in the image of God is a call to live in relationship with God as well. In this view, the imago Dei functions as something people do, rather than are. According to this relational model, “The image of God is… to be understood as a relationship within which man sometimes stands, whenever like a mirror he obediently reflects God’s will in his life and actions” . Humanity serves as the image of God within creation when we live in peace and unity with God and the good creation, obeying God’s will in our lives and in the world. Living as beings created in the image of God means living in right relationship “with God, with others, with the earth and with self” . The emphasis on right relationships as a key to, or even the essence of, the imago Dei creates a shift in how humanity must view ourselves. Our position as the only creatures created in the image of God is no longer something to hold as evidence of our superiority, some kind of inalienable right to domination given at our birth. Rather, the imago Dei becomes a responsibility we must live into, and calling to a certain kind of ethic. The imago Dei sets the standard for right human living as those lives that reflect the nature of God, who is generous, loving, full of grace and compassion, and desires to be unified in community. We are called to live as God would have us live, and in doing so, we are able to reflect, or image, God’s grace; and in continuity with the imago Dei, we have been given the freedom to follow that call.
Unfortunately, the creation story in Genesis ends with humanity rejecting this call. Adam and Eve damage their relationship to creation by using it for gain rather than taking care of its goodness. They damage their relationship to one another and to God, by foregoing their “creaturely status, now they have intended to usurp the place of God” . Regardless of whether the imago Dei is something we do or something we are, Adam and Eve lose sight of what it means at this moment in the story. By rejecting their status as “created in the image of God” in favor of the potential to be God, Adam and Eve have introduced sin into God’s good creation. The world as we know and experience it today, an imperfect world of violence and sin where God’s creatures and creation are constantly abused, is inaugurated by the very creatures who were intended to be images of God.
Ironically, it is the very freedom of choice that is integral to the imago Dei that opened the possibility for the rejection of our own identity. After the Fall, humanity is left in a kind of identity crisis. We have interrupted our relationship with God, with one another, and with creation, and are no longer sure of who we are or how to get back to living into the image of God. Humanity is in need of being made at one with God again. We are in need of atonement.
The agent of atonement, Jesus Christ, fulfills what humanity is no longer capable of doing. Jesus Christ is not created in the image of God, but rather is the image of God (2 Corinthians 4:4). The imago Dei as re-revealed in Jesus Christ is “the image in which humankind was initially created and embodies the destiny to which we are called” . Through the Incarnation, Jesus becomes fully human. The life of Jesus provides us with an ethical model and a way of living. He begins His ministry with new life by establishing Baptism as the sacrament of rebirth. He is the image of God for us through his freedom of choice, which he uses to establish right relationships with all of creation. Jesus exemplified the right use of our freedom. By resisting the temptations of self-sufficiency and supreme power in the wilderness, Jesus claims his image and his identity as one fully in relationship with, and therefore dependent upon, God. Jesus demonstrates his radical relationship with creation when we see that even thunder and lighting will listen to his voice. In Christ’s solidarity with lepers, tax collectors, and rulers, we see a way that we can live in right relation with all humanity.
In the face of this image and the opportunity for reconciliation, however, humanity’s freedom again chooses against God, and Jesus is crucified. This time, however, God reminds us that humanity is only created in the image of God. Through the Resurrection, we learn that God can and will triumph over human choices. Our rejection of the Image of God in Christ is restored to new life through the Incarnation, Crucifixion, and Resurrection; our rejection of the image of God in ourselves can be redeemed by patterning our own lives after Christ. In Christ, we find again what it means to be created in the image of God. Jesus is the new Adam because in Jesus we can be re-created through Baptism in the image of God. Through Baptism and new life, ministry with Jesus offers us redemption from ourselves and from our crisis of identity that has created this world of sin and violence, and we are free to claim our redemption by choosing to turn towards Christ. This redemption means restoration to wholeness, to fully imaging the God of Creation, the God who is Love.
We are now free to choose to pattern our lives after the example of Christ, and to once again image God in the world, by being re-created through Baptism as members of the living Body of Christ. Through our participation in the Body of Christ, the Church, we are able to catch glimpses of the image of God, as we learn individually and collectively to reflect God’s glory and mercy, love and grace through our common lives. But the very thing that allows us to image God – our freedom, is the very thing that keeps from imaging God fully with our lives. Like the Kingdom of God, we are “now, but not yet” living into the imago Dei. The reconciliation and restoration has begun, and continues as we struggle and learn to pattern our lives after Christ, and will be fully realized in the fullness of time. “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” .
Unfortunately, the “now, not yet” antiphon is easily used as an excuse for non-action. The logic generally goes, “We do not need to be too concerned about the ills of society, since God’s Kingdom is only partially realized now. That will all get taken care of in the future.” But we must remember that through the Resurrection, Christ has already begun the work of reconciliation by establishing victory over the powers of this world. As imitators of Christ, we have already been called to participate in the ongoing work of reconciliation, of feeding the poor, and healing the sick. In this modern society, we have a unique and “concrete opportunity to act as ‘people of the resurrection’” by choosing to be organ donors. In 2000, it was estimated that 100,000 people in America could be treated with heart transplants, but there are only approximately 10,000 donors per year . Through donating our organs to help extend the lives of others, we can share in the healing work of God that is desperately needed in the here and now.
Organ donation should not really be a controversial subject for most people of faith. Many faiths and denominations have issued statements in support of organ donation . In a study of clergy attitudes towards organ donation, 77.3% of the congregational clergy surveyed were willing to donate their organs after their death, but only 57.8% had actually signed donor cards . Why the discrepancy? Organ donation is a literal example of the “here, not yet”. The decision to donate organs is made by a particular person in their lifetime, but the decision is typically not carried out until after that individual’s death. At this point, the decision to donate organs is placed in the hands of grieving family members. While some families choose to donate the organs of their loved one, many others decide not to donate in the end.
Why do so many family members decide against donation? The following letter was written to “Dear Abby” by a woman who was frustrated by her family and friends’ refusals to witness her registration for an organ donor list.

My husband said, “You can’t imagine how hard it would be for me to agree to something like that.”
The rest of my family refused because they are afraid some doctors might get “scalpel happy” and start removing the organs they need before I’m dead.
I took the form to church five Sundays in a row trying to get tow witnesses for my signature, but nobody would sign it. They said I might need all my parts at the Resurrection, and they didn’t want to be responsible for my being resurrected without a badly needed organ.”

These are common attitudes towards organ donation, particularly the fear of doctors retrieving organs before a patient is deceased. One study shows that 28% of the general public believe that “doctors would treat donors less aggressively than nondonors”, and the numbers were higher in minority communities . Only 4% of healthcare workers in the same study agreed to the same statement, perhaps because they have clearer understanding of medical death. So, what does it mean to be dead? The medical understanding of death has changed over time as medical science and technology has changed. Michael Rees notes that tissues in the body die at varying rates, “so, death has to be thought of as a process rather than a precise event. The question is what body part or function has to be permanently lost before we consider someone to be dead.” The contemporary understanding defines death through brain death, that is, “the complete and irreversible loss of brain and brain stem function.” Cadaveric organ donation cannot legally occur without brain death. However, with our current medical technology, we are able to keep certain organs functioning after the point of brain death. Christine Gallagher observes the difficulty in coming “to terms with a person’s death when they are still connected to a respirator and appear to be ‘sleeping’” and underscores the need for pastoral caregivers to help families understand brain death . By creating understanding and providing care and comfort in the dying process, families may be more willing to consent to organ donation without fear that treatment is being denied to their loved one.
Discussions around death and organ donation cannot wait until death is imminent. The decision to donate organs should be discussed during our lifetime. As Christians, we are called to share the Good News of God in Jesus. We are called to be aware of God’s active presence in our lives, and how faith, hope, and love have changed our lives and ourselves. We are called to share our successes, and our failures, in patterning our lives after Christ. The act of donating our organs, and discussing this with our families and friends, is a concrete way to talk about how we live into the imago Dei. Organ donation is a tangible way to express the inter-relatedness and interdependence of humanity, just as the Trinity is radically interdependent. Just as God freely chose to create out of God’s own grace and love, we are free to choose to pass on life. As people of the resurrected Christ, we believe that life can come from death – surely, we have gained life through the death of Christ. What more appropriate way to image Christ than to create the possibility for more abundant life through our own death? Organ donation allows this to happen, and allows us to pass on the hope we have received. There is inspiration and hope rooted in God’s work of reconciliation, and we can evidence that by choosing organ donation. But we can only do this if we are willing to talk about our decision, and share how our gift comes from God’s gift of life to us.
The metaphor of “gift of life” has been the predominant one in campaigns promoting organ donation, yet some have questioned its use. Siminoff and Chillag argue that this metaphor, while encouraging donation, is “also inaccurate and sometimes deeply damaging for the recipient” . Citing anthropological research on gift exchange theory, the authors present the difficulty of a gift that cannot be repaid. The recipient of the organ is burdened by feelings of guilt and responsibility to somehow repay this gift. They are “obligated” by the gift to comply with treatment, to be grateful at all costs. The patient must also deal with the weighty realization that someone had to die for their chance to continue on with life. Finally, Siminoff and Chillag believe that the “gift of life” metaphor paints such a noble picture of the transplant process that the resulting atmosphere suppresses realistic discussions of the difficult life as a transplant recipient.
Writing in response to Siminoff and Chillag, Lauritzen and his colleagues make the observation that
the sense of indebtedness is not created by the metaphor of the gift of life. It derives rather from the recipients’ knowledge that with the new organ they have a chance for continued life, and without it they do not. If the sense of incurring a debt that cannot be paid is a problem, it is a problem regardless of whether the metaphor of the gift if central to organ procurement .

As Christians, we have a sense of what it means to be given a gift that is undeserved and cannot be repaid. We call it grace and salvation. Even with our history of corporate and personal sin, the denial of who we are called to be as creatures in God’s image, we are forgiven, restored and redeemed through Christ. We also know what it is to find life when you are weighed down by death. We call it resurrection. Yet, Christian lives are not lived in fantastic states of constant joy. The faith and hope that we have from our experience of God’s grace and goodness are the same faith and hope that sustain us in dark times. All of humanity has received a gift of life “now but not yet”. That gift does not give us the freedom to ignore the need for healing in the world around us. On the contrary, the juxtaposition of the image of God in ourselves and the brokenness in our lives should give us the freedom to hear the difficulties and struggles of transplant recipients, rather than impose expectations that recipients “grin and bear it” as a measure of their gratitude.
If we then choose to try to pattern our lives after the example of Christ, Jesus instructs us to give as we have been given to: “Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” . We are still accustomed to receiving something in return for our good deeds. Workers in soup kitchens and other outreach ministries often speak of receiving more than they give. Organ donation is not like that. We can feel better imagining the good that might come from our own death. Our family members may find comfort in having life come from our deaths. But we as organ donors will not be thanked, or see the recipient live to attend their son’s graduation or daughter’s wedding – we will be dead. Those positive outcomes may not even occur, as organ transplants are not always successful. The choice to be an organ donor is ultimately an act of hope.
Perhaps this is the final and ultimate way in which humanity can live into the imago Dei. We can be creatures who act on hope. God created us with the freedom to live as God would have us live, reflecting grace and love with our very being. When we chose not to answer that call, God remained active in the world and eventually sent Jesus to begin the work of reconciliation through resurrection. God continues present in our lives today, never giving up hope that we will learn to follow in the new life of Jesus. We, in turn, can choose to image this God by being people of resurrection and new life, by living lives that struggle for reconciliation and restoration, and dying deaths of healing, promise, and hope.