Rooted and Grounded in Love

Homily for Sunday, July 26, 2015

Lessons:

2 Kings 4: 42-44

Psalm 145:10-19

Ephesians 3: 14-21

John 6: 1-21

            Are we rooted and grounded in love?  And is that love a blessing we share with others?  I believe the answer to those questions is a resounding yes.  Every face I see before me is the face of someone blessed by God and willing to share the blessings. The first verse of today’s psalm suggests that in recognition of how open-handed God is in blessing us, our natural response would be prayers of praise and thanksgiving: “All your works praise you, Lord, and your faithful servants bless you.”

            The other day, I read a morning meditation on the subject of prayer taken from the writings of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She wrote, “If you are searching for God and do not know where to begin, learn to pray. Take the trouble to pray every day. Tell him everything; talk to him. He is our father; he is father to us all, whatever our religion. We are all created by God; we are his children. We have to put our trust in Him and love Him, believe in him and work for him. If we pray, we will get all the answers we need.” Considering what we have learned about the prayer life of Mother Teresa since her death, I found these words of hers very remarkable and moving.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta received a call from God to serve the poorest of the poor, the sick and the dying.  She began her ministry in India in 1950, and continued to serve as the founder of the Missionaries of Charity until shortly before her death in 1997 at the age of eighty-six. Since her death, the world has learned that, for many years, Teresa suffered from a feeling of distance from God. She wrote to her spiritual director that she continued to pray as always, but did not often feel God’s presence. Still, she demonstrated her deep faith by continuing to serve suffering and dying people, those so poor they had nowhere else to turn for help. Without the services of the Missionaries of Charity, most of the people Mother Teresa and her sisters cared for would have died on the streets of Calcutta.

In our collect for today, we hear the words, “O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy, increase and multiply on us your mercy; that with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal.”  Though her prayers were “sterile,” as Mother Teresa said, she believed God would strengthen her. When her day to day life was comprised of serving poor people who were dying of tuberculosis, AIDS, leprosy, cancer, and other illnesses, it is easy to understand why Mother Teresa may have suffered from an enduring depression.  In that state of depression, she may have found herself unable to connect to her source of comfort—her God.  Even so, she continued to live her faith and to pray. She trusted her God and God’s mercy to help her and those she served through the temporal afflictions of their illnesses. She continued to be the face of Christ, the very face of love, to the poorest of the poor.

Mother Teresa was “rooted and grounded in love,” a phrase Paul uses in his letter to the Ephesians. Without such a grounding, she would not have been able to carry on her work for so many years. In saying “rooted and grounded in love,” Paul prays for the followers of Christ, that all of them—all of us-- may have Christ dwelling in our hearts through faith. Paul goes on to pray that we who call ourselves Christian will someday “have the power to comprehend, with all [our fellow] saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth” of the love of God, that we will come to “know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.”  He prays that we will “be filled with all the fullness of God.”  Paul promises these things are possible because the power of Christ is “at work within us: and is “able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.” Mother Teresa had the power of Christ at work within her, even when she could not feel God’s presence. Christ working through her made her able to accomplish abundantly far more than any of us could imagine.  Although she struggled with her own relentless sorrow, surely those she served felt her kindness toward them as a great blessing. She showed unloved people what it meant to be loved by God.

In spite of the many sorrows of the world, our God is a God who is always ready to bless us. Today’s Old and New Testament lessons illustrate the abundant generosity of God’s blessings.  In 2^nd Kings, the prophet Elisha tells his servant to feed a hundred people. When the servant protests that he has only twenty barley loaves, Elisha responds, “Give it to the people and let them eat, for thus says the Lord, ‘They shall eat and have some left.’”  And so it was, just as the Lord said.  This lesson prefigures the more familiar story in John, of Jesus feeding the five thousand gathered to hear him teach. Once again, maybe the most astonishing thing about the story is that twelve baskets of food are left over from the five barley loaves and two fish.  God’s blessings seem to have a way of expanding to fill the pressing need.

But there is a special condition to the expansion of blessings. Jesus has the 5000 people sit down in groups. Then he gives thanks for the bread, breaks it, and distributes it among the people.  He does not overlook anyone. He does not cast out anyone for being unworthy. The key to this miracle is that the blessing is something shared by all. As we say before communion, “All are welcome to the Lord’s table.” 

Unfortunately, over the years, the organized church at times seems to have lost sight of the universality of God’s blessings. The church has not always stretched out its hands to everyone in a welcoming way. At some point in its long history, the church became more interested in rebuking people for their sins rather than inviting them to share in the blessings. The Puritans, who settled Massachusetts and played a large role in the founding of this country, condemned and executed innocent people in their community for being witches. One of the most famous sermons in American history, preached in 1741 by the Puritan Calvinist Jonathan Edwards during the “Great Awakening,” is called “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” Edwards tells everyone listening to him that they are all sinners, being dangled by God like a loathsome spider over the pit of hell. Edwards’ sermon is in line with the theology of “original sin,” an idea that dates to the 2^nd century after the life of Christ and asserts that all humans are, by nature, sinners from birth. The concept of original sin came into prominence when factions of the early church could not agree on dogma. The term “original sin” never appears in the Bible.  Politicians, however, could see the usefulness of a doctrine that might help to control the behavior of people by terrifying them with the prospect of hell.

There were some theologians and ordinary people of that early period, however, who believed in the idea of “original blessing” rather than original sin. Whereas the Puritans and Calvinists called the forests of New England “the devil’s playground,” people down through the ages have found beauty, solace, and inspiration in nature. In Genesis I, the very first book of the Bible, we are told that God finds all that he created to be good. After the creation of humankind, male and female, we are told, “And God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.” The joy God takes in all that he creates is a sign of His original and continuing blessing. Doesn’t it seem that way to you?   Yes, we all are sinners. No human being is perfect. But instead of being sinners in the hands of an angry God, we can see ourselves as sinners subject to the mercy of a loving and forgiving God, our father and creator.

Contemporary theologians Matthew Fox and Richard Rohr, among others, have rediscovered the ancient tradition of seeing the world through the lens of original blessing rather than through the lens of original sin. (In fact, Matthew Fox has written a book entitled Original Blessing.) What does that term mean?  Simply that we see ourselves from the day we were born as loved so much by God that we ourselves are blessings. Loved by God in this way, we share in the blessings all around us. The Lord who tells us to love our neighbor is the same Lord who suggests that we should forgive our brother seventy times seven.  Why should we ever doubt the love and mercy of such a Lord?  Listen to these words from Psalm 145 again and hear the joy. Hear how ALL are blessed:

The Lord is faithful in all his words

and merciful in all his deeds.

The Lord upholds all those who fall;

he lifts up those who are bowed down.

The eyes of all wait upon you, O Lord,

and you give them their food in due season.

You open wide your hand

and satisfy the needs of every living creature.

The Lord is righteous in all his ways

and loving in all his works.

The Lord is near to those who call upon him,

to all who call upon him faithfully.

Like the most beautiful of the trees in all of Creation, we are rooted and grounded in the love of God.  May we feel the full depth of that love all the way to the tiptoes of our roots!  AMEN.

The Kingdom's Boundaries

Homily for Sunday, June 28, 2015           Graves Chapel

Lessons:

Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15: 2:23-24

Lamentations 3:21-33

Mark 5:21-43

What the next world will be like in the life after this life is the greatest of mysteries. Speculation about a heaven with streets of gold and pearly gates is really just that--imaginative speculation. In the complicated gospel story for today, however, we are given a pretty clear glimpse of the relationship we will have with Jesus in the life to come. This story illustrates that the boundary between life and death we imagine as an impassible wall is, for the Lord, permeable.  Certainly, we can see that the loving compassion of Jesus is equally present on both sides of that boundary.  When Jairus is told that his little daughter has died, Jesus says to him, “Do not fear; only believe.”

Lately, death is something we have had too much of here at the chapel. Most recently, we lost our beloved Dreama Travis. Then, suddenly, we learned of the death of Nelson Lamb. In late December, our neighbor Ken Deavers passed away.  And in early January, our ardent supporter Joseph Rowe, having lived a marvelous 92 years, died peacefully.  We have been saddened and diminished by all of these deaths. We miss our friends and loved ones.

            Listen again to these words from the Book of Wisdom: “God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living. For he created all things so that they might exist.”  For all who grieve, these words may be perplexing.  If “God did not make death,” why have we lost someone we love?  We prayed for healing for our loved ones, and those loved ones are no longer with us. Why weren’t our prayers for healing answered if God did not intend anyone to die?

            Is it possible that our understanding of death is the issue—and not death itself?  When I say “understanding of death,” I know that must sound a little crazy.  After all, what is to “understand” about the cessation of life? However we may define it, the finality of death is the wall we unavoidably run up against. Most of us are at stages in our lives when we have lost a significant number of people we have cared deeply about to the finality of death. Death is death, and the void it creates is enormous. And heartbreaking.

            Even so, I think we may agree that all deaths are not equal in their enormity.  My mother died shortly after her 71^st birthday, an age that now seems very young to me. I was thirty-seven when she died. Mama had begun to show symptoms of the rare neurological disease that killed her about ten years before her death. She fell often, from a stiff, upright position, bruising herself badly. Ultimately, she lost the ability to speak and to swallow, and in the last six months of her life, she had a feeding tube in her stomach. Although many of her acquaintances thought she had something like Alzheimer’s that had affected her brain, Steele Richardson Syndrome does not affect the cognitive function of the brain until the very end. Mama was aware the whole time she was ill that she was losing the functionality of her body. She knew.

            My mother was a woman of great faith, and some of those closest to her wondered why she had been afflicted with such an illness. I guess some may have thought it was God’s will that she suffered as she did. Believing as I always have that, as the lesson from Wisdom tells us, “God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living,” I never blamed God for my mother’s illness. I never thought it was God’s will that she suffered; after all, who has more compassion for suffering than Jesus? I believed that her death was nothing but a blessing. She had suffered enough. As a mother and a kind and generous person, Mama had lived the life of an angel here on earth. I was grateful that God had taken her to be with him in the life after this life. In my mother’s case, death was its own kind of healing.

            Today’s Gospel lesson from Mark includes two stories of healing, deliberately interwoven in a way that calls for deeper interpretation. The frame story is the one of the man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, who comes to Jesus to seek his help when his little daughter is gravely ill. Jesus goes with Jairus to heal his daughter.

            The story within the story is of a woman who has suffered for twelve years from hemorrhages. She is one of many in the crowd of people Jesus walks through on his way to the house of Jairus.  As the Lord passes her, the woman reaches out to touch the hem of his garment, not daring to ask Him for help. She believes that by simply touching Jesus, she will be healed. And she is right!  As soon as she touches his cloak, she feels herself to be free from her devastating disorder. Sensing that someone has touched him in a way that caused power to transfer from his body to hers, Jesus asks, “Who touched my clothes?”  The grateful and frightened woman steps forward, acknowledging her act and the healing she has received. Jesus blesses her before continuing on to heal the little girl.

            Before they even arrive at the house of the leader of the synagogue, a messenger comes to meet Jairus and tells him that his little daughter is already dead. The messenger suggests that Jairus should trouble the teacher no further.  Jesus, however, is not ready to be dismissed.  He says to Jairus, “Do not fear. Only believe.”  Arriving at the house, they find a commotion of people weeping and wailing over the death of the child. Taking a few of his disciples and the child’s parents into the room where the girl lies, Jesus takes her by the hand and tells her to get up. Mark says, “And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age).” We are told the parents are overcome with amazement. They must have also been overcome with joy.

            So, what are the reasons why these two descriptions of Jesus’s healing power are intertwined?  What is the underlying message of each that is best illustrated in connection to the other?  For one, the subjects of the healing are both female. In a time and culture where women and children had no consequence at all, no rights, no independence, we see the Lord Jesus demonstrate loving consideration for a woman and a girl-child. Even more significantly, the affliction of continuous hemorrhaging suffered by the older woman would have made her perpetually “unclean” to her neighbors.  As an “unclean” woman who could never be purified, she lived a half-life in the shadows of her community. In her social isolation and degradation, she was an embodiment of the walking dead. Knowing how some of the elders might react with disgust to any contact with her, she demonstrates great courage (and great faith) when she reaches out to touch the cloak of Jesus.  And what happens? Are her fingers burned or broken by the power they encounter? Does the Lord scream at her in rebuke for her impertinent behavior? Absolutely not!  He acknowledges her, blesses her, heals her.  He treats her like a human being, worthy of love and mercy.  We are specifically told the woman has suffered from these hemorrhages for twelve years.  That is an awfully long time to live as an unwelcome outcast. Imagine her great joy when Jesus not only heals her, but also treats her with respect and kindness.

Now we change settings and meet a man who, as a leader of the synagogue, would have been in a position to declare the hemorrhaging woman unclean. Jairus may or may not have known the woman, but as the father of a dying young girl, he feels his need of the Lord. Once again, we see the Lord fulfill not only the faith of the person who needs him, but also the hope.  When the daughter of Jairus is reported to be dead, Jesus says to him, “Do not fear, only believe.”  Hold onto hope.

            And what are the details we are given about the young daughter of Jairus?  We do not know the illness that causes her death. We are not even told her name.  We know that Jesus speaks to her and says, “Little girl, get up!”  And she does get up and begin to walk about, to the amazement of her parents and the disciples who are witnesses to this resurrection.  We are also given the very precise detail of her age: twelve years.  For a girl, twelve years of age is the symbolic time of her transition from childhood to womanhood. It is the time of a girl’s life when she begins to experience what it means to be unclean in her culture.  

            Why?  Why do we have these wonderful stories of healing and resurrection involving women?  Can the answer really be as simple as this:  God loves everyone. Always. In the eyes of the Lord, there are no outcasts, no second-class citizens, no failures, no sinners beyond the reach of love and mercy.  There is no such thing as “uncleanness” in God’s kingdom.

            And in God’s kingdom, death does not have the final word. For the unclean, hemorrhaging, and outcast woman, her life must have felt like living death. In healing her, Jesus gave her back her life. In the story of the little girl, Jesus enacts His role in the passage all of us will make as we transition to the life after this life.  He says, “The child is not dead, but sleeping.” He takes the hand of the “sleeping” girl and invites her to join Him in his kingdom.  She awakes in answer to that call.

            These words from the Book of Lamentations beautifully speak of the eternal love of God, no matter which side of the dividing line we are on when we experience that love:  “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.” 

Or, as Jesus says, “Do not fear; only believe.”

AMEN.