From a friend and colleague...
A reflection on a Sunday morning Holy Eucharist
My first Sunday in retirement. My first Sunday without a church home and I’m at loose ends. Every Sunday for the past twenty years, with only a few exceptions, I’ve known exactly where I will be and what I will be doing: leading worship, preaching a sermon, greeting the flock. Today, I have options. Should I just stay home? Do as a recently retired colleague suggests, and be “home-churched?” No, Sunday worship is too deeply etched in my psyche. I could go to the Tabernacle just a few steps from my front door. No, I might see former parishioners and I’m trying to keep a low profile. Good boundaries, pastoral etiquette, and all that.
I decide to go to the 10:30 service at Grace Episcopal Church in Vineyard Haven. Having spent ten or so years as an Episcopalian, including three years of seminary, I’m looking forward to the familiar Prayer Book liturgy and the peaceful atmosphere of this beautiful little church. I arrive at 10:25 to a full church. I find an empty pew near the front and sit down at the far end of the pew, leaving room for latecomers nearer the aisle. It takes me a minute to realize that I’m right in the middle of a large group from Camp Jabberwocky. Directly in front of me, a young camper twists and flails in her seat. Counselors on either side hold her arms, rub them gently, keep her from jumping up and kissing the back of the head of the camper in front of her. They are only partly successful. She gets in a loud kiss every few minutes.
A slight woman of indeterminate age slips into the pew next to me. She smiles warmly at me as she struggles to lower her body onto the wooden bench. A man next to her helps her get seated. She holds a bright yellow lily blossom. I smile and admire the flower. She notes that it matches my dress. She tells me, proudly, that she’s from Camp Jabberwocky. I tell her I’m very glad she’s there. And I am.
The service is about to start and I haven’t had a chance to find my place in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m too enthralled with the scene in front of me. The whole front of the church is filled with campers in wheelchairs. Behind them, in the first four rows of pews, are more campers and their counselors. Young people and older people with various types and degrees of disabilities wriggle and flail in their seats. Counselors watch over them with tender care. It’s not exactly the peaceful atmosphere I expected, but I find myself moved to tears by the presence of these beloved children of God.
Behind the crowd of campers, the rest of the congregation sits elbow to elbow, perfectly at ease with the whole slightly chaotic scene. They’re used to it. Camp Jabberwocky worships there every Sunday in the summer, I’m told. (Ed. Note: The land for Camp Jabberwocky was donated by Grace Episcopal Church.) This congregation has embraced them and has been blessed by them. At coffee hour, one church member tells me a wonderfully heartwarming story about a camper in a wheelchair who loves to carry the cross down the aisle at the beginning of the service.
The service is starting. The Rector, Father Rob, announces that the liturgy being used in the summer months is new. Not the familiar Book of Common Prayer liturgy for Holy Eucharist, but something new that has been developed by the Standing Liturgical Commission of the Episcopal Church. I briefly picture a whole group of rather serious looking Episcopalians standing in a meeting debating the merits of inclusive language. As I read the note in the bulletin, I get a different idea of what is about to unfold. The note describes the liturgy as “…part of an ongoing process of listening to what the Spirit is saying to the Church through the diverse experience of those who gather to worship and celebrate the sacramental rtes which fashion and identify us as the People of God.” (Ed. Note: From the Preface to “Enriching Our Worship 1” by The Most Rev. Frank Tracy Griswold.)
Good. At this point I’m ready for anything. I have the distinct feeling that God has brought me to this church on this day to shake me out of my comfort zone and show me a glimpse of God’s vision for a truly inclusive church, something for which I yearn and have rarely experienced. My eyes keep filling with tears as the all-embracing language of the liturgy both comforts and challenges me.
The congregation grows surprisingly quiet as the service unfolds. It’s not until we come to the time for passing the peace that there’s an outburst of voices. The woman next to me, who has tucked the yellow lily behind her ear, wishes me the peace of Christ. I feel deeply blessed. I hold her gnarled hands and return the blessing. The kissing woman in front of me, restrained by counselors, extends her fist and I hold it and wish her the peace of Christ. I resist the urge to kiss her, although I don’t know why I even try to resist. Some old tape about proper behavior in church, I guess.
Soon it’s time for the Eucharist – Holy Communion or the Lord’s Supper, we call it in the Methodist Church. I’ve always loved receiving the sacrament. From my very first time at age 13 while in my little Methodist church in Stamford, New York, I have felt the presence of Christ in this holy act. Even more than receiving it, I have been richly blessed by serving the bread and wine (or juice for Methodists) to others. And so I watch with the eyes of one ordained to administer the sacrament as Father Rob moves among the Jabberwocky campers, handing out the wafers with a warm smile and the words “The body of Christ.” The love of God for these beloved children of God shines in his face. I wonder if the love that shows forth in this simple act of sharing the bread with these campers is made deeper because, as an openly gay man in a homophobic world, and an openly gay priest in a less-than-inclusive Church, he knows what it feels like to be marginalized.
After the campers are served, the rest of us go forward and kneel at the altar rail to receive the bread and wine. It’s not quite as orderly as in most churches. We have to step around wheel chairs to get to the front. But it feels exactly right. The way church ought to be, I say to myself.
After the service, I speak briefly with the yellow-flower woman next to me. She says she’s happy to meet me, and I thank her for being there to bless my day. I notice that she seems so self-assured, so at home in her slightly twisted body – moreso than many people I know, including myself. Perhaps that’s because she KNOWS she’s beloved of God.
As I greet Father Rob on my way out and try to tell him how much the service meant to me, I find myself breaking down in tears. I can’t express in words how blessed I feel at being part of a worship service that has been so Spirit-filled and so inclusive. I have a feeling that if Jesus had a choice between attending worship at a proper church where everything is orderly and solemn, where children are shushed and strangers eyed with suspicion – or being part of this exuberant and wildly diverse gathering – he would choose to be at Grace Episcopal Church on a summer Sunday. In fact, I’m pretty sure he joined us today. I’m pretty sure that it’s Jesus’ face I saw in the face of the Jabberwocky campers and counselors, in Father Rob’s face as he shared the body of Christ, in the many-hued old and young faces of the congregation. ALLELUIA! AMEN!
Rev. Mary Jane O’Connor – Ropp
July 3, 2007
Ed. Note: The Rev. Mary Jane O’Connor – Ropp, UMC, retired from active congregational ministry in June 2007. She and her husband currently reside in Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard and are frequent visitors to Grace Church.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
A Christmas Reflection
One of my favorite holiday movies is the story of The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry.
The story opens with $1.87. That is all the money that Della Dillingham Young has to buy a present for her beloved husband, Jim, and the next day is Christmas. Faced with such a situation, Della promptly bursts into tears on the couch, which gives the narrator the opportunity to tell us a bit more about the situation of Jim and Della. The short of it is they live in a shabby flat and they are poor in material goods, but very rich in the love that they have for one another.
Once Della's recovered from the realization that all she has to spend is that $1.87, she goes to a mirror to let down her hair and examine it. Della's beautiful, brown, knee-length hair is one of the two great treasures of the poor couple. The other is Jim's gold watch. Her hair examined, Della puts it back up, sheds a tear, and bundles up to head out into the cold. She leaves the flat and walks to Madame Sofronie's hair goods shop, where she sells her hair for $20.00. Now she has $21.87 cents.
With her new funds, Della is able to find Jim the perfect present: an elegant platinum watch chain for his watch. It's $21, and so she buys it. Excited by her gift, Della returns home and tries to make her now-short hair presentable (with a curling iron). She is not convinced Jim will approve, but she did what she had to do to get him a good present. When she finishes with her hair, she gets to work preparing coffee and dinner.
Jim arrives home for dinner at 7:00 to find Della waiting by the door and stares fixedly at her, not able to understand that Della's hair is gone. Della can't understand quite what his reaction means.
After a little while, Jim snaps out of it and gives Della her present, explaining that his reaction will make sense when she opens it. Della opens it and cries out in joy, only to burst into tears immediately afterward, because Jim has given her the set of fancy combs that she has been wanting, only now she has no hair for them. Jim comforts Della, and once she has recovered she gives Jim his present, holding out the watch chain. Jim smiles and falls back on the couch. He sold his watch to buy Della's combs, he explains. He recommends they put away their presents and have dinner. As they do so, the narrator brings the story to a close by pronouncing that Della and Jim are the wisest of everyone who gives gifts. They are in fact, the Magi.
For me, sacrificial living and giving is what my faith calls me to, particularly during this time of the year when so many are in need, whether that need is physical or spiritual. During these particularly difficult economic times, there are many people across the Island, our country, and the world who are living on the margins, and in too many instances, not knowing how they will have the ability to adequately feed and clothe their families, let alone provide them with something special during the holidays.
And as I write this, I am very much aware of and thankful for the dozens of “elves” from all over the Island that have invaded virtually every spare inch of space here at Grace Church to once again bring into reality another Christmas Miracle peculiar to Martha’s Vineyard, which is known as Red Stocking. It is another manifestation of the gift of the Magi, where people from every walk of life come together, combining the resources of this community to insure that those with little do not do without this Christmas.
And yet I am still aware that in spite of these efforts that there are many people who will continue to hurt during this holiday season. There are over 80…yes eighty…homeless persons known to the clergy on Martha’s Vineyard as of this moment. Some of them will benefit from Red Stocking, but many will not. Regardless of our faith tradition, I believe that it is up to each of us to do whatever we can to bring a bit of light and joy into the lives of the least and lost however we can.
I can only speak from out of the Christian tradition which calls us to bring light into the world’s dark places. Where Christ is, the Christian will talk about light. We have to – there is no better image of what is happening. The light shines in the darkness – as John’s Gospel proclaims. And somehow we understand this and we understand that this truth cannot be fully expressed in any other words.
We probably understand because we know about darkness – we know what it is like to live in and with darkness. Think of what it is like to try to walk through an unfamiliar room that is in total darkness – or to wake up confused in the middle of the night – trying to get somewhere. We know what it's like when we don't know where things are, and when we don't know what we have just bumped into, or whether we're going where we want to go, or if the next step will be OK or if we will break something and make a mess. We know how easy it is to go in circles in the dark, and to get turned around, or to stub a toe and get angry and hit whatever is handy. Many among us also know what it is like to live like that in broad daylight.
I want to conclude with one of my other favorite stories, and this is specifically about Christmas.
I believe that there is some unwritten rule of all Christmas pageants…they never come off quite like they are planned.
There was a certain church whose young people were performing the pageant, complete with the requisite manger scene. All of the characters were in place and at the ready. Mary and Joseph and the angels in position, and a single light bulb shining from the manger representing Jesus, the true light coming into the world.
The moment came for the shepherds to enter…everyone looking pious and prepared. Then the shepherds entered. As they approached the manger, the person playing one of the shepherds looked at Joseph and in a whisper loud enough for only the cast to hear asked, “Well, Joe, when are you gonna pass out the cigars?” The spell was shattered and the cast burst into laughter. The chief angel standing on a chair overlooking the scene laughed so hard that she fell off her perch, bringing down the backdrop and the manger with her. The set was destroyed, but the only thing that didn’t waver was that single light shining from the manger. The lesson from all of this is that the newborn baby in the manger is the light of the world, and that even when the world around you appears to have been destroyed, that light still shines to illuminate the darkness of our hurting and sorrowful lives.
The light of Christ, the word made flesh, comes among us at Christmas – and we celebrate its coming into the world. God reveals God's love to us in Christ. That first Christmas, in the smelly darkness of a stable the light shone – and it continues to shine – and continues to allow us to see, and to show a world living in darkness what we have seen. For by that light we have been given power to become children of God and to take our places with the light. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did, and still, does not overcome it.
On behalf of all of us at Grace Church, I want to wish you all the very best that this season has to offer, and a safe and prosperous New Year for us all.
The story opens with $1.87. That is all the money that Della Dillingham Young has to buy a present for her beloved husband, Jim, and the next day is Christmas. Faced with such a situation, Della promptly bursts into tears on the couch, which gives the narrator the opportunity to tell us a bit more about the situation of Jim and Della. The short of it is they live in a shabby flat and they are poor in material goods, but very rich in the love that they have for one another.
Once Della's recovered from the realization that all she has to spend is that $1.87, she goes to a mirror to let down her hair and examine it. Della's beautiful, brown, knee-length hair is one of the two great treasures of the poor couple. The other is Jim's gold watch. Her hair examined, Della puts it back up, sheds a tear, and bundles up to head out into the cold. She leaves the flat and walks to Madame Sofronie's hair goods shop, where she sells her hair for $20.00. Now she has $21.87 cents.
With her new funds, Della is able to find Jim the perfect present: an elegant platinum watch chain for his watch. It's $21, and so she buys it. Excited by her gift, Della returns home and tries to make her now-short hair presentable (with a curling iron). She is not convinced Jim will approve, but she did what she had to do to get him a good present. When she finishes with her hair, she gets to work preparing coffee and dinner.
Jim arrives home for dinner at 7:00 to find Della waiting by the door and stares fixedly at her, not able to understand that Della's hair is gone. Della can't understand quite what his reaction means.
After a little while, Jim snaps out of it and gives Della her present, explaining that his reaction will make sense when she opens it. Della opens it and cries out in joy, only to burst into tears immediately afterward, because Jim has given her the set of fancy combs that she has been wanting, only now she has no hair for them. Jim comforts Della, and once she has recovered she gives Jim his present, holding out the watch chain. Jim smiles and falls back on the couch. He sold his watch to buy Della's combs, he explains. He recommends they put away their presents and have dinner. As they do so, the narrator brings the story to a close by pronouncing that Della and Jim are the wisest of everyone who gives gifts. They are in fact, the Magi.
For me, sacrificial living and giving is what my faith calls me to, particularly during this time of the year when so many are in need, whether that need is physical or spiritual. During these particularly difficult economic times, there are many people across the Island, our country, and the world who are living on the margins, and in too many instances, not knowing how they will have the ability to adequately feed and clothe their families, let alone provide them with something special during the holidays.
And as I write this, I am very much aware of and thankful for the dozens of “elves” from all over the Island that have invaded virtually every spare inch of space here at Grace Church to once again bring into reality another Christmas Miracle peculiar to Martha’s Vineyard, which is known as Red Stocking. It is another manifestation of the gift of the Magi, where people from every walk of life come together, combining the resources of this community to insure that those with little do not do without this Christmas.
And yet I am still aware that in spite of these efforts that there are many people who will continue to hurt during this holiday season. There are over 80…yes eighty…homeless persons known to the clergy on Martha’s Vineyard as of this moment. Some of them will benefit from Red Stocking, but many will not. Regardless of our faith tradition, I believe that it is up to each of us to do whatever we can to bring a bit of light and joy into the lives of the least and lost however we can.
I can only speak from out of the Christian tradition which calls us to bring light into the world’s dark places. Where Christ is, the Christian will talk about light. We have to – there is no better image of what is happening. The light shines in the darkness – as John’s Gospel proclaims. And somehow we understand this and we understand that this truth cannot be fully expressed in any other words.
We probably understand because we know about darkness – we know what it is like to live in and with darkness. Think of what it is like to try to walk through an unfamiliar room that is in total darkness – or to wake up confused in the middle of the night – trying to get somewhere. We know what it's like when we don't know where things are, and when we don't know what we have just bumped into, or whether we're going where we want to go, or if the next step will be OK or if we will break something and make a mess. We know how easy it is to go in circles in the dark, and to get turned around, or to stub a toe and get angry and hit whatever is handy. Many among us also know what it is like to live like that in broad daylight.
I want to conclude with one of my other favorite stories, and this is specifically about Christmas.
I believe that there is some unwritten rule of all Christmas pageants…they never come off quite like they are planned.
There was a certain church whose young people were performing the pageant, complete with the requisite manger scene. All of the characters were in place and at the ready. Mary and Joseph and the angels in position, and a single light bulb shining from the manger representing Jesus, the true light coming into the world.
The moment came for the shepherds to enter…everyone looking pious and prepared. Then the shepherds entered. As they approached the manger, the person playing one of the shepherds looked at Joseph and in a whisper loud enough for only the cast to hear asked, “Well, Joe, when are you gonna pass out the cigars?” The spell was shattered and the cast burst into laughter. The chief angel standing on a chair overlooking the scene laughed so hard that she fell off her perch, bringing down the backdrop and the manger with her. The set was destroyed, but the only thing that didn’t waver was that single light shining from the manger. The lesson from all of this is that the newborn baby in the manger is the light of the world, and that even when the world around you appears to have been destroyed, that light still shines to illuminate the darkness of our hurting and sorrowful lives.
The light of Christ, the word made flesh, comes among us at Christmas – and we celebrate its coming into the world. God reveals God's love to us in Christ. That first Christmas, in the smelly darkness of a stable the light shone – and it continues to shine – and continues to allow us to see, and to show a world living in darkness what we have seen. For by that light we have been given power to become children of God and to take our places with the light. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did, and still, does not overcome it.
On behalf of all of us at Grace Church, I want to wish you all the very best that this season has to offer, and a safe and prosperous New Year for us all.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
To Camp Jabberwocky...With Love
About Disabilities
A sermon based on John 9.1-7 & Luke 8.43-48
Adapted from a homily by David C. Mauldin
by Rev. Robert E. Hensley
For the Campers and Counselors of Jabberwocky, with Love and Appreciation
“Janice” is nearly 60 years old, but she has the mind of a four-year-old. She is blind. Her back is curved, as are her arms and legs, due to a congenital disease, so she sits all day in bed or in a wheelchair. She has been in and out of institutions all her life. Her family tries to take care of her at home for a while, but before long they realize once again that her needs are too great. So back she goes to a state institution for the severely disabled. The family feels guilty about this, because she is happier at home, but her aging mother, who is now a widow, is unable to lift Janice and care for her properly. They lack the money for round-the-clock in-home care. If you visit the cottage where she lives, you will find her holding a teddy bear or playing with beads or bottles, singing happily to herself. “Jesus loves me” is a favorite. Of course she is not always happy. Like all of us she feels a full range of complex emotions, but she is unable to articulate many of hers. She has been known to scratch herself when she is upset. She depends on the people around her for all her needs, and she remembers the ones who are good to her. I have changed her name, but I assure you she is a very real person and someone who has helped form me.
I have decided to talk this morning about Janice, our beloved friends from Camp Jabberwocky who are with us this morning, and the millions of other special, differently abled people, with disabilities ranging from mild to severe. It is about disability and how as Christians we fit it into our conceptual world. How are we to understand disability? How ought we respond? Where does God fit in? And how do we cope if we become disabled? These are not easy questions, but they are important ones. There is a distinctly Christian take on the whole phenomenon of human disability. It stands in contrast to other views that are out there – for example, an Eastern view that says disability is punishment for sins committed in a former life or a pagan view that tries not to view the disabled at all.
In the ancient world, how Christians thought about disability and cared for the disabled set them apart from their pagan neighbors. What usually happened in the Greek and Roman worlds when a baby was born with some sort of defect was that the parents would take the child out into the wilderness somewhere and leave it to die. Christians did not do this. In fact, the early Christians were known to often rescue such children and raise them in a loving home. How’s that for putting theology into practice? It takes strong faith and love to do something like that, but it still happens still, once in a while. A Christian couple will adopt a handicapped child because no one else wants the boy or girl and they know he or she is worthy of love. That’s an admirable calling.
Since there is a distinctly Christian understanding about disability, I thought it appropriate that I should share it with you today, especially now that pagan practices are making a comeback. And I say making a comeback, because with our “modern” medicine, it is easy nowdays to tell if a child will be handicapped while it is still in the womb and abort it. Meanwhile, at the other end of the lifecycle, euthanasia makes more and more sense to people who measure the worth of a human life not based on the image of God or any inherent dignity but on quality of life and even financial considerations. Devoted Christians seldom ask the question that seems to preoccupy pagan cultures, from ancient Greece and Rome to Nazi Germany to the Western world today: “Who is worthy to live?”
One problem that we face when preaching about disabilities is the scope of the topic. Disabilities come in many forms. Some people are born disabled. Some become disabled later in life. Disabilities can be caused by genetics, accident, or age. They can be physical or mental or a combination. It is a vast topic, and I cannot hope to give you a full or final word, but I can draw in broad outlines the distinctly Christian view.
First some basics: Every person, no matter how severely disabled, is a human being, created by God and bearing the image of God. God loves every person. These are truths we teach small children in Sunday school, and they are the foundation for how Christians think and act about disability. What do you feel when you encounter a severely handicapped person? Pity? Fear? Uncomfortable? What about a sense of awe at the glory of God? Every human being has an inherent, inalienable beauty, worth, and dignity because God created us, we bear God’s image (broken though it may be by our sin), and God loves us.
Also, Christ died for every person, absolutely every person. Christ died for you. Christ even died for me. We are all in need of redemption, and disability doesn’t change this one way or the other. In some cases, a person’s mind does not develop sufficiently to make sin possible. We believe that very young children lack sufficient awareness to sin. They cannot distinguish right and wrong. Children, we believe, are covered by God’s grace. If they grow and thrive and develop sufficient awareness, they will constitute themselves as willful sinners before God and stand in need of forgiveness. If, however, the mind does not grow, they remain in a state of grace. Are mentally handicapped adults morally culpable? Are they capable of faith? These questions can only be answered on a person-by-person basis. Some are. Some are not. God knows, and God works in their lives and calls them just the same as with anyone else.
I know of a couple who have a son with Down’s syndrome. When he was born, their pastor initially refused to baptize him, because he didn’t think the child would ever be capable of faith in Christ. This was a serious mistake. To being with, if you baptize any infants, you should baptize all infants. You cannot guarantee the future faith of any of them. More importantly, as we practice baptism, it speaks powerfully to God’s grace. Why did that pastor assume God’s grace was not for this child? It was, and it is. The parents were devastated. The pastor got chewed by his seminary bishop, and repented and baptized the child, but the parents never got over it. Every child born into the church is part of the community of faith and should be baptized. The differently abled child is, like every other child, God’s gift to us and a part of us. We simply cannot be the church, the family, the people God wants us to be if we exclude anyone. But now I am racing ahead of myself. Let me get back to the few basics so we can move on.
When we think about or try to cope with disabilities, one question is unavoidable: Why? Why was I born this way? Or, why did this happen to me? I have an answer to this question, and when you hear it you will be amazed by my wisdom. Here is my answer to the question “why?”: I don’t know.
That’s not a cop out. It is an honest answer. I really don’t know. There may be a reason – a mother takes medication with unforeseen side effects during pregnancy, a genetic problem, or a car accident. Even when there is a reason like this, however, it never reaches to the depths of the question why. Just knowing the physical cause, even if it can be known is not enough. “Where was God? Where is God? How can a loving God run the world like this? It is not fair.”
And that’s true. It is not fair. God has a lot to answer for. Not that we are capable of calling God to account. But according to scripture, God wants God’s goodness and faithfulness to be known to the ends of the earth. And thus God is held accountable, and all the earth will see and know that God is good. Someday, when God raises the dead and sets everything right, we will have our answers. Until then, the wisest answer that any of us can give is, “I don’t know.”
However, there are some things we do know. We know that disability is not God’s will. You may wonder, “How can I say it is not God’s will when it happens so often?” To which I can only say that a lot of things happen that are not God’s will. That’s why Jesus taught us to pray that God’s will might be done on earth as it is in heaven. That’s not happening right now – not entirely anyway – I would say that disability is another instance of the fallen, broken state of our world. Remember what Paul wrote in Romans 8 about creation being in bondage to decay. The entire creation is out of whack, and stands in need of redemption and new creation.
We know disability is not God’s will because when Jesus was going around proclaiming the kingdom of God and showing people what it is like, he healed the disabled. Why these and not others? Well, Jesus was offering a sign of the kingdom. He was making the kingdom happen. He was offering a sneak preview of the coming main attraction when all God’s children will be healed and whole. When Jesus healed, he was doing God’s will on earth as in heaven. And what is God’s will? Healing and wholeness. Jesus healed many; he never, ever hurt or maimed anyone – not even those who everybody would have agreed deserved it.
When the disciples see the blind man, they assume God was punishing someone. Either the man’s parents had sinned, so God sent them a son who would not be able to look after them in their old age. Or God foresaw some sin the man himself would commit and punished him in advance. Jesus said no.
The essence of faith comes down to this: Are you willing to trust God despite having to wait for an answer? Can you believe in God’s goodness and love despite your suffering and the suffering of those you love? Jesus helps us tremendously here. We can look at the cross and know his love. We can look at his healing ministry and know that he wants – and plans – something better than our condition at the moment.
This leads me into what I want to say about coping with disability. I am at a disadvantage, for I have not had to cope with being handicapped. Physically at any rate. I know there are some who might dispute the mental part. So I can only draw on the experience and wisdom of others. I cannot pretend it is easy, nor will I tell you that all you need is faith in God to wash away the pain and fill you with joy. Life is more complicated than that. As in most areas of life, faith in God can save you and make all the difference in the end, but it does not exempt any of us from suffering.
Some people feel cursed by God. Their disability chokes out their faith and love. As Henri Nouwen, the Yale and Harvard scholar who left the academy to minister to mentally handicapped adults, wrote, “They believe their cup doesn’t carry any blessings” (Can You Drink the Cup?, p. 66). But they are wrong. The love of God is big enough to encompass our suffering and take it up and free our souls from bitterness and despair. I know this, I believe this, but knowing it is not enough. You have to experience it. I do not think I would cope well with a disability. Yet I know God’s grace is sufficient, so maybe there would be hope for even me. My prayer is that those of you who struggle with a disability will find the peace my mother did. I know many of you here with us this morning have…and I want you to know that each and every one of you are my heroes…and the heroes of many of the people here at Grace!
Well, we have covered the important basics. We have asked the question why. And we have looked at how some manage to cope with disability. There’s one more important thing I have to share with you. And that is: our response to the disability of others.
My first suggestion is practical. The disabled are just like everyone else, with certain exceptions. For example, blind people can do more than most people would expect, yet there are certain simple things they cannot do, such as read the mail. Treat a handicapped person just like anyone else, but know what things they cannot do and help them. If you have a family member who is disabled, you know this already. If you have a handicapped friend, ask how you can be helpful.
My second suggestion comes from the Gosepl of Luke. Is there a more beautiful moment in scripture than when Jesus turns to the woman who touched the edge of his robe and calls her “daughter”? He was on his way to heal the sick daughter of an important official. He stops along the way because in his heart this poor woman who has suffered so much is his daughter. Never be uncomfortable around a handicapped person. Follow Jesus’ simple instruction and example: “Love one another as I have loved you.”
Third suggestion: Be sensitive to the needs of parents; rejoice in the Lord always and to give thanks in all circumstances. I confess that I lifted that from the Bible, specifically Paul’s letter to the Philippians. As the Bible tends to do, however, it gets people thinking. Several years ago a woman called me with a question about her son. His name was Michael. Michael was in a wheelchair. He couldn’t use his legs. He could only move his arms with difficulty and then not well. His speech was difficult to understand. He had mental disabilities as well. He was severely handicapped. She had been thinking about something that I said in a sermon and wanted to know, did I mean that she should be thankful to God that Michael is the way he is? It was one of those rare moments when I got something right (or perhaps God just took pity on me that time and gave me the words to say). I answered, “No, you are not to thank God for how he is, but you are to thank God for Michael.”
A handicapped child is a blessing that comes with a great price. Any child tests a parent’s stamina and patience and sanity, but a handicapped child can do so even more. Even the best, most loving parents need a break sometimes. Many handicapped children remain under their parents care all their lives. That takes a whole lot of grace. Be aware of their needs. Help them out. Encourage them. Not in some patronizing way, just the way you would care for any friend. But above all, we are to thank God for those special people who give us rare glimpses of the glory of God…not for the disability, but for the child of God. And do not fail to see the glory of God in that child. This will make more of a difference than you know. Parents, you see, are conscious of what people think of their children. They grieve when their child is left out or treated differently. But when other people love and cherish their child, well, that’s a much better feeling. That goes for all children, by the way. All of us. Remember that.
Finally, as a church, we want to help everyone participate as much as possible. If you have special needs, let us know. We will do everything that we possibly can to accommodate you, although we are limited in some ways by our facilities. Still, we do, I think, a fairly good job. We try to. We want to.
I took a risk this morning and a leap of faith, and I hope that I have given all of us something to think about. There is a distinctly Christian understanding of disability, and it is grounded in what the Bible tells us about being human generally. We are created in God’s image, beloved by God, possessed of an inherent dignity and worth, in need of redemption, in need of God’s grace, and called by God to care for one another. So let us go on loving one another and coping the best we can, until that glorious day when the dead are raised and God through Christ makes all things new. Amen.
A sermon based on John 9.1-7 & Luke 8.43-48
Adapted from a homily by David C. Mauldin
by Rev. Robert E. Hensley
For the Campers and Counselors of Jabberwocky, with Love and Appreciation
“Janice” is nearly 60 years old, but she has the mind of a four-year-old. She is blind. Her back is curved, as are her arms and legs, due to a congenital disease, so she sits all day in bed or in a wheelchair. She has been in and out of institutions all her life. Her family tries to take care of her at home for a while, but before long they realize once again that her needs are too great. So back she goes to a state institution for the severely disabled. The family feels guilty about this, because she is happier at home, but her aging mother, who is now a widow, is unable to lift Janice and care for her properly. They lack the money for round-the-clock in-home care. If you visit the cottage where she lives, you will find her holding a teddy bear or playing with beads or bottles, singing happily to herself. “Jesus loves me” is a favorite. Of course she is not always happy. Like all of us she feels a full range of complex emotions, but she is unable to articulate many of hers. She has been known to scratch herself when she is upset. She depends on the people around her for all her needs, and she remembers the ones who are good to her. I have changed her name, but I assure you she is a very real person and someone who has helped form me.
I have decided to talk this morning about Janice, our beloved friends from Camp Jabberwocky who are with us this morning, and the millions of other special, differently abled people, with disabilities ranging from mild to severe. It is about disability and how as Christians we fit it into our conceptual world. How are we to understand disability? How ought we respond? Where does God fit in? And how do we cope if we become disabled? These are not easy questions, but they are important ones. There is a distinctly Christian take on the whole phenomenon of human disability. It stands in contrast to other views that are out there – for example, an Eastern view that says disability is punishment for sins committed in a former life or a pagan view that tries not to view the disabled at all.
In the ancient world, how Christians thought about disability and cared for the disabled set them apart from their pagan neighbors. What usually happened in the Greek and Roman worlds when a baby was born with some sort of defect was that the parents would take the child out into the wilderness somewhere and leave it to die. Christians did not do this. In fact, the early Christians were known to often rescue such children and raise them in a loving home. How’s that for putting theology into practice? It takes strong faith and love to do something like that, but it still happens still, once in a while. A Christian couple will adopt a handicapped child because no one else wants the boy or girl and they know he or she is worthy of love. That’s an admirable calling.
Since there is a distinctly Christian understanding about disability, I thought it appropriate that I should share it with you today, especially now that pagan practices are making a comeback. And I say making a comeback, because with our “modern” medicine, it is easy nowdays to tell if a child will be handicapped while it is still in the womb and abort it. Meanwhile, at the other end of the lifecycle, euthanasia makes more and more sense to people who measure the worth of a human life not based on the image of God or any inherent dignity but on quality of life and even financial considerations. Devoted Christians seldom ask the question that seems to preoccupy pagan cultures, from ancient Greece and Rome to Nazi Germany to the Western world today: “Who is worthy to live?”
One problem that we face when preaching about disabilities is the scope of the topic. Disabilities come in many forms. Some people are born disabled. Some become disabled later in life. Disabilities can be caused by genetics, accident, or age. They can be physical or mental or a combination. It is a vast topic, and I cannot hope to give you a full or final word, but I can draw in broad outlines the distinctly Christian view.
First some basics: Every person, no matter how severely disabled, is a human being, created by God and bearing the image of God. God loves every person. These are truths we teach small children in Sunday school, and they are the foundation for how Christians think and act about disability. What do you feel when you encounter a severely handicapped person? Pity? Fear? Uncomfortable? What about a sense of awe at the glory of God? Every human being has an inherent, inalienable beauty, worth, and dignity because God created us, we bear God’s image (broken though it may be by our sin), and God loves us.
Also, Christ died for every person, absolutely every person. Christ died for you. Christ even died for me. We are all in need of redemption, and disability doesn’t change this one way or the other. In some cases, a person’s mind does not develop sufficiently to make sin possible. We believe that very young children lack sufficient awareness to sin. They cannot distinguish right and wrong. Children, we believe, are covered by God’s grace. If they grow and thrive and develop sufficient awareness, they will constitute themselves as willful sinners before God and stand in need of forgiveness. If, however, the mind does not grow, they remain in a state of grace. Are mentally handicapped adults morally culpable? Are they capable of faith? These questions can only be answered on a person-by-person basis. Some are. Some are not. God knows, and God works in their lives and calls them just the same as with anyone else.
I know of a couple who have a son with Down’s syndrome. When he was born, their pastor initially refused to baptize him, because he didn’t think the child would ever be capable of faith in Christ. This was a serious mistake. To being with, if you baptize any infants, you should baptize all infants. You cannot guarantee the future faith of any of them. More importantly, as we practice baptism, it speaks powerfully to God’s grace. Why did that pastor assume God’s grace was not for this child? It was, and it is. The parents were devastated. The pastor got chewed by his seminary bishop, and repented and baptized the child, but the parents never got over it. Every child born into the church is part of the community of faith and should be baptized. The differently abled child is, like every other child, God’s gift to us and a part of us. We simply cannot be the church, the family, the people God wants us to be if we exclude anyone. But now I am racing ahead of myself. Let me get back to the few basics so we can move on.
When we think about or try to cope with disabilities, one question is unavoidable: Why? Why was I born this way? Or, why did this happen to me? I have an answer to this question, and when you hear it you will be amazed by my wisdom. Here is my answer to the question “why?”: I don’t know.
That’s not a cop out. It is an honest answer. I really don’t know. There may be a reason – a mother takes medication with unforeseen side effects during pregnancy, a genetic problem, or a car accident. Even when there is a reason like this, however, it never reaches to the depths of the question why. Just knowing the physical cause, even if it can be known is not enough. “Where was God? Where is God? How can a loving God run the world like this? It is not fair.”
And that’s true. It is not fair. God has a lot to answer for. Not that we are capable of calling God to account. But according to scripture, God wants God’s goodness and faithfulness to be known to the ends of the earth. And thus God is held accountable, and all the earth will see and know that God is good. Someday, when God raises the dead and sets everything right, we will have our answers. Until then, the wisest answer that any of us can give is, “I don’t know.”
However, there are some things we do know. We know that disability is not God’s will. You may wonder, “How can I say it is not God’s will when it happens so often?” To which I can only say that a lot of things happen that are not God’s will. That’s why Jesus taught us to pray that God’s will might be done on earth as it is in heaven. That’s not happening right now – not entirely anyway – I would say that disability is another instance of the fallen, broken state of our world. Remember what Paul wrote in Romans 8 about creation being in bondage to decay. The entire creation is out of whack, and stands in need of redemption and new creation.
We know disability is not God’s will because when Jesus was going around proclaiming the kingdom of God and showing people what it is like, he healed the disabled. Why these and not others? Well, Jesus was offering a sign of the kingdom. He was making the kingdom happen. He was offering a sneak preview of the coming main attraction when all God’s children will be healed and whole. When Jesus healed, he was doing God’s will on earth as in heaven. And what is God’s will? Healing and wholeness. Jesus healed many; he never, ever hurt or maimed anyone – not even those who everybody would have agreed deserved it.
When the disciples see the blind man, they assume God was punishing someone. Either the man’s parents had sinned, so God sent them a son who would not be able to look after them in their old age. Or God foresaw some sin the man himself would commit and punished him in advance. Jesus said no.
The essence of faith comes down to this: Are you willing to trust God despite having to wait for an answer? Can you believe in God’s goodness and love despite your suffering and the suffering of those you love? Jesus helps us tremendously here. We can look at the cross and know his love. We can look at his healing ministry and know that he wants – and plans – something better than our condition at the moment.
This leads me into what I want to say about coping with disability. I am at a disadvantage, for I have not had to cope with being handicapped. Physically at any rate. I know there are some who might dispute the mental part. So I can only draw on the experience and wisdom of others. I cannot pretend it is easy, nor will I tell you that all you need is faith in God to wash away the pain and fill you with joy. Life is more complicated than that. As in most areas of life, faith in God can save you and make all the difference in the end, but it does not exempt any of us from suffering.
Some people feel cursed by God. Their disability chokes out their faith and love. As Henri Nouwen, the Yale and Harvard scholar who left the academy to minister to mentally handicapped adults, wrote, “They believe their cup doesn’t carry any blessings” (Can You Drink the Cup?, p. 66). But they are wrong. The love of God is big enough to encompass our suffering and take it up and free our souls from bitterness and despair. I know this, I believe this, but knowing it is not enough. You have to experience it. I do not think I would cope well with a disability. Yet I know God’s grace is sufficient, so maybe there would be hope for even me. My prayer is that those of you who struggle with a disability will find the peace my mother did. I know many of you here with us this morning have…and I want you to know that each and every one of you are my heroes…and the heroes of many of the people here at Grace!
Well, we have covered the important basics. We have asked the question why. And we have looked at how some manage to cope with disability. There’s one more important thing I have to share with you. And that is: our response to the disability of others.
My first suggestion is practical. The disabled are just like everyone else, with certain exceptions. For example, blind people can do more than most people would expect, yet there are certain simple things they cannot do, such as read the mail. Treat a handicapped person just like anyone else, but know what things they cannot do and help them. If you have a family member who is disabled, you know this already. If you have a handicapped friend, ask how you can be helpful.
My second suggestion comes from the Gosepl of Luke. Is there a more beautiful moment in scripture than when Jesus turns to the woman who touched the edge of his robe and calls her “daughter”? He was on his way to heal the sick daughter of an important official. He stops along the way because in his heart this poor woman who has suffered so much is his daughter. Never be uncomfortable around a handicapped person. Follow Jesus’ simple instruction and example: “Love one another as I have loved you.”
Third suggestion: Be sensitive to the needs of parents; rejoice in the Lord always and to give thanks in all circumstances. I confess that I lifted that from the Bible, specifically Paul’s letter to the Philippians. As the Bible tends to do, however, it gets people thinking. Several years ago a woman called me with a question about her son. His name was Michael. Michael was in a wheelchair. He couldn’t use his legs. He could only move his arms with difficulty and then not well. His speech was difficult to understand. He had mental disabilities as well. He was severely handicapped. She had been thinking about something that I said in a sermon and wanted to know, did I mean that she should be thankful to God that Michael is the way he is? It was one of those rare moments when I got something right (or perhaps God just took pity on me that time and gave me the words to say). I answered, “No, you are not to thank God for how he is, but you are to thank God for Michael.”
A handicapped child is a blessing that comes with a great price. Any child tests a parent’s stamina and patience and sanity, but a handicapped child can do so even more. Even the best, most loving parents need a break sometimes. Many handicapped children remain under their parents care all their lives. That takes a whole lot of grace. Be aware of their needs. Help them out. Encourage them. Not in some patronizing way, just the way you would care for any friend. But above all, we are to thank God for those special people who give us rare glimpses of the glory of God…not for the disability, but for the child of God. And do not fail to see the glory of God in that child. This will make more of a difference than you know. Parents, you see, are conscious of what people think of their children. They grieve when their child is left out or treated differently. But when other people love and cherish their child, well, that’s a much better feeling. That goes for all children, by the way. All of us. Remember that.
Finally, as a church, we want to help everyone participate as much as possible. If you have special needs, let us know. We will do everything that we possibly can to accommodate you, although we are limited in some ways by our facilities. Still, we do, I think, a fairly good job. We try to. We want to.
I took a risk this morning and a leap of faith, and I hope that I have given all of us something to think about. There is a distinctly Christian understanding of disability, and it is grounded in what the Bible tells us about being human generally. We are created in God’s image, beloved by God, possessed of an inherent dignity and worth, in need of redemption, in need of God’s grace, and called by God to care for one another. So let us go on loving one another and coping the best we can, until that glorious day when the dead are raised and God through Christ makes all things new. Amen.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Story of the Internet from Genesis, Chapter 51 (NOT!)
Well, you might have thought that you knew how the Internet started, but here's the TRUE story ....
In ancient Israel, it came to pass that a trader by the name of Abraham Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot.
And Dot Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she was often called...Amazon Dot Com.
And she said unto Abraham, her husband:
"Why dost thou travel so far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?"
And Abraham did look at her - as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load - but simply said: "How, dear?"
And Dot replied: "I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale, and they will reply telling you who hath the best price.
And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by...Uriah's Pony Stable (UPS)."
Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success.
Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever having to move from his tent.
To prevent neighboring countries from overhearing what the drums were saying, Dot devised a system that only she and the drummers knew. It was called Must Send Drum Over Sound (MSDOS), and she also developed a language to transmit ideas and pictures - ...
Hebrew To The People (HTTP)
But this success did arouse envy. A man named Maccabia did secrete himself inside Abraham's drum and began to siphon off some of Abraham's business.
But he was soon discovered, arrested and prosecuted - for insider trading.
And the young men did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung.
They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Sybarites, or NERDS.
And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to that enterprising drum dealer, Brother William of Gates, who bought off every drum maker in the land.
And indeed did insist on drums to be made that would work only with Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks.
And Dot did say: "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others."
And Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel , or eBay as it came to be known.
He said: "We need a name that reflects what we are."
And Dot replied: "Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators." "YAHOO", said Abraham.
And because it was Dot's idea, they named it YAHOO Dot Com.
Abraham's cousin, Joshua, being the young Gregarious Energetic Educated Kid GEEK) that he was, soon started using Dot's drums to locate things around the countryside.
It soon became known as God's Own Official Guide to Locating Everything (GOOGLE).
And that is how it all began. So now you know.
In ancient Israel, it came to pass that a trader by the name of Abraham Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot.
And Dot Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she was often called...Amazon Dot Com.
And she said unto Abraham, her husband:
"Why dost thou travel so far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?"
And Abraham did look at her - as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load - but simply said: "How, dear?"
And Dot replied: "I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale, and they will reply telling you who hath the best price.
And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by...Uriah's Pony Stable (UPS)."
Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. And the drums rang out and were an immediate success.
Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever having to move from his tent.
To prevent neighboring countries from overhearing what the drums were saying, Dot devised a system that only she and the drummers knew. It was called Must Send Drum Over Sound (MSDOS), and she also developed a language to transmit ideas and pictures - ...
Hebrew To The People (HTTP)
But this success did arouse envy. A man named Maccabia did secrete himself inside Abraham's drum and began to siphon off some of Abraham's business.
But he was soon discovered, arrested and prosecuted - for insider trading.
And the young men did take to Dot Com's trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung.
They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Sybarites, or NERDS.
And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to that enterprising drum dealer, Brother William of Gates, who bought off every drum maker in the land.
And indeed did insist on drums to be made that would work only with Brother Gates' drumheads and drumsticks.
And Dot did say: "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others."
And Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel , or eBay as it came to be known.
He said: "We need a name that reflects what we are."
And Dot replied: "Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators." "YAHOO", said Abraham.
And because it was Dot's idea, they named it YAHOO Dot Com.
Abraham's cousin, Joshua, being the young Gregarious Energetic Educated Kid GEEK) that he was, soon started using Dot's drums to locate things around the countryside.
It soon became known as God's Own Official Guide to Locating Everything (GOOGLE).
And that is how it all began. So now you know.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Episcopal Relief and Development Sunday
The First Sunday in Lent has for some time now been designated "Episcopal Relief and Development Sunday." The timing this year could not be more fortuitous, coming on the heals of this morning's Mega-Quake and subsequent tsunami devastation. ERD is already moving to assist with relief efforts. In addition to the "loose plate" offering already designated this week to go to ERD, special donation envelopes will be available for your use for additional direct offerings for the rescue and relief efforts in Japan, and other potentially affected areas, specifically the Diocese of Hawaii and other Dioceses on the West Coast of the U.S.
A (Very) Brief History of The Episcopal/Anglican Church in Japan:
The name of the Episcopal Church in Japan is Nippon Sei Ko Kai, which roughly translated means Japanese Catholic Church, another autonomous branch of the Anglican Communion founded in 1859 by missionaries from the Episcopal Church in the U.S. These missionaries were soon joined in their efforts by missionaries from the Anglican Church in Canada and the Church of England. It was under the leadership of The Rt. Rev. Channing Moore Williams, Episcopal Bishop of China and Japan that these three missionary efforts were untied in 1878 to form the Japanese Province, Nippon Seikokai, whose name he chose. The Synod was created in 1887, with the first native Japanese bishops consecrated in 1923.
The Most Rev'd Nathaniel Makoto Unematsu is the current Archbishop and Primate of the Nippon Sei Ko Kai, and Bishop of the Diocese of Hokkaido.
Any and all offerings made through Grace this first Sunday of Lent to ERD will be designated for Earthquake Relief Effort. Please continue to hold all of the people of Japan in your thoughts and prayers.
Thank you for your continuing abundant generosity.
A (Very) Brief History of The Episcopal/Anglican Church in Japan:
The name of the Episcopal Church in Japan is Nippon Sei Ko Kai, which roughly translated means Japanese Catholic Church, another autonomous branch of the Anglican Communion founded in 1859 by missionaries from the Episcopal Church in the U.S. These missionaries were soon joined in their efforts by missionaries from the Anglican Church in Canada and the Church of England. It was under the leadership of The Rt. Rev. Channing Moore Williams, Episcopal Bishop of China and Japan that these three missionary efforts were untied in 1878 to form the Japanese Province, Nippon Seikokai, whose name he chose. The Synod was created in 1887, with the first native Japanese bishops consecrated in 1923.
The Most Rev'd Nathaniel Makoto Unematsu is the current Archbishop and Primate of the Nippon Sei Ko Kai, and Bishop of the Diocese of Hokkaido.
Any and all offerings made through Grace this first Sunday of Lent to ERD will be designated for Earthquake Relief Effort. Please continue to hold all of the people of Japan in your thoughts and prayers.
Thank you for your continuing abundant generosity.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
This Long Epiphany Season
As I started preparing my Sermon for this Sunday, I came to realize that I have never preached on the 8th Sunday of Epiphany before. And it got me thinking about our church calendar.
There are 35 possible days on which Easter may fall, with March 22 being the earliest. The last time it did was in 1818 (the year Illinois became a state...I only know that because I am from Illinois); it will not do so again until 2285! It fell on March 23, you may recall, in 2008, but will not again until 2160. The latest possible date for Easter is April 25. Note that Easter Sunday this year is April 24.
While many of us have experienced 7 Sundays in the Epiphany season, this is the only time in any of our lifetimes that we will experience all eight Sundays...or the lifetimes of our children or grandchildren for that matter.
According to my research, the cycle of Easter repeats itself every 5,700,000 years. I didn't check those calculations. But supposedly the most common date of Easter is April 19, falling on that day 220,400 times in that 5.7M year time frame.
If you would like to find out more about finding the date of Easter, you may find the rules and tables on P. 880 in the Prayer Book. And to think this was all calculated without the aid of computers!
There are 35 possible days on which Easter may fall, with March 22 being the earliest. The last time it did was in 1818 (the year Illinois became a state...I only know that because I am from Illinois); it will not do so again until 2285! It fell on March 23, you may recall, in 2008, but will not again until 2160. The latest possible date for Easter is April 25. Note that Easter Sunday this year is April 24.
While many of us have experienced 7 Sundays in the Epiphany season, this is the only time in any of our lifetimes that we will experience all eight Sundays...or the lifetimes of our children or grandchildren for that matter.
According to my research, the cycle of Easter repeats itself every 5,700,000 years. I didn't check those calculations. But supposedly the most common date of Easter is April 19, falling on that day 220,400 times in that 5.7M year time frame.
If you would like to find out more about finding the date of Easter, you may find the rules and tables on P. 880 in the Prayer Book. And to think this was all calculated without the aid of computers!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
It Will Get Better
I believe it is imperative that I add my voice to those who want to assure all of our young people who view themselves as "other" for whatever reason, that it will indeed get better. I speak out of my perspective as a gay man who was bullied in High School, but have had the good fortune to emerge relatively unscathed, and hopefully a bit stronger.
In my ministry I have often worked with those who were considered to be "other" for any number of reasons. I offer the following for those who may want to look into this issue of bullying more deeply.
I often have often had to put on a gown and gloves and mask to visit someone in the hospital when there is a question of whether or not an infectious disease is involved. It wasn't that many years ago that there were doctors and nurses who wouldn't even treat those infected with HIV Disease. I know that first-hand from working with people living with the disease in Dallas, and visiting them at Parkland Hospital when I was working with the AIDS Interfaith Network.
I suspect that most all of us know what it means to be considered "unclean" and to dwell alone outside the camp. All of us have either been there at one time or another or have known someone who was.
All of us have also been on the other side, on the inside looking out at those who are on the outside and considered to be unclean, those who are taunted and harassed or injured because of who they are. At the very least we have been on the side lines watching, feeling helpless to do anything about the suffering of those being tormented, or much worse, not wanting to get involved.
Bullying has been in the news these past few weeks following the suicide of Tyler Clementi, a Rutgers University freshman who jumped off a bridge after his "roommate and another student used a webcam to broadcast live images of him having an intimate encounter with another man on the internet." But the truth is even sadder than this one man’s suicide: Clementi's death is just one in a string of suicides involving young people believed to have been victims of anti-gay bullying."
After I heard this, I sat in front of my computer screen as news stories continued to appear about the suicides of 13-year-old Asher Brown, 18-year-old Tyler Clementi, 13-year-old Seth Walsh, [15-year-old Justin Aaberg], and 19-year-old Raymond Chase. Today, it is very clear to me that profound sadness and stunned silence is no longer a suitable, appropriate, or adequate response.
Anti-gay bullying is a theological issue because it has a theological base. I find it difficult to believe that even those among us with a vibrant imagination can muster the creative energy to picture a reality in which anti-gay violence and bullying exist without the anti-gay religious messages that support them.
Clergy in America are part of the problem if they are unwilling to address this issue from the pulpit. As a side-bar to this story, you may have heard on the news or seen on YouTube the message that Joel Burns, an openly gay Fort Worth City Councilman read in last week’s City Council meeting of how he was bullied when he was 13 for being gay.
God forgive us. We have a responsibility, as Jesus shows us in scripture over and over again, to speak up for those in society who are being bullied because of the color of their skin, their nationality, their occupation, their religion, or their sexual orientation.
That last one is what scares people the most. Most preachers don't touch it because they are afraid of losing members, afraid that they will lose respect.
The most dangerous theological message comes in the subtlest of forms: silence. Sexuality has been a taboo subject in most Christian pulpits and churches, and shame on the clergy for avoiding it, we shepherds who are supposed to care for the least and the last, and seek the lost until they are found.
And I would also add shame on all people who claim faith in the one who would not crush the bruised reed for being silent.
I hope that I never need to speak specifically to my congregation about the issue of bullying. I have seen no signs of it at Grace Church, although I have read and heard about it prior to my being called as Rector. I believe that everyone is welcomed and accepted at our Church. We all know, or are learning, that it is only by the grace of God and the mercy and forgiveness we know in Christ that we dare to approach God’s throne of grace on Sunday mornings. Plus, I have personally witnessed many in my congregation that go out of their way to surround with love and caring people who have been hurt by others.
Our Church is, and all Christian Churches should always be, a place of refuge for the battered and the broken. That's why many of us are here. But I do know that bullying exists in our community – and so do you. And we all know that if we are silent about it there will come a time when another child, perhaps even one of our own, takes his or her life because of being tormented for who they are.
The gospel tells us that Jesus healed ten people with leprosy and one came back to thank him, falling at his feet even, shouting "Praise be to God." Jesus looks around at all of the respectable people who are leaning in to hear what he is going to say, and he says, "Where are the other nine? Didn't I heal ten? Where are the rest of them?
The only one to come back is the foreigner, the hated, despised Samaritan, or to use folks from our own time, the Nazi skin head, the tattooed and heavily pierced gangbanger, the illegal alien, the Muslim, the democrat, the republican, the progressive liberal, the socialist, you can come up with your own marginalized group if you want. Suffice it to say that the one who came back was the one nobody wanted to share life with, much less see healed.
Yet the thankful one is the one everybody hates. He, or she, the Gospel writer doesn't specify gender, is the one who gets it, that it is God who heals, that it was God who was in Jesus turning the world upside down.
In response, Jesus said, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well." "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you God, this former leper must have cried out as she ran all the way home.
Imagine what that homecoming must have been like. Her cure meant that not only her physical suffering had ended and that she wouldn't die an agonizing, painful death alone, it meant that she would have a family again, that she could hug and kiss her children for the first time in years and be hugged and kissed by her husband and her parents. It meant that he would belong to a community again, have neighbors and friends who respected and loved him. It meant…it meant…that he would have a life.
This is what we should be about at our Church, helping people to get their lives back, to know the wholeness that comes from living in Christ.
Tony Campolo, noted preacher, speaker and professor emeritus at Eastern University in Philadelphia tells a couple of stories that are particularly relevant to this issue. The first took place when he was in High School. Campolo writes: "There was a boy in my high school, named Roger. It's not really his name. I'm just giving him the name Roger. We knew he was gay and the day he was most at pain was the day of gym because after we played some games we had to go into the shower and he would never go into the shower with us. When we left the shower, we took our wet towels and would sting his body by whipping the towels at him.
As we walked past Roger we would whip the towels at Roger and sting him and we thought it was great fun to see this queer dance under our taunts. We thought it was fun to work on him. I wasn't there the day they shoved him into the corner of the shower and 5 guys urinated all over him. But that night Roger went home, went into his garage, and he hung himself.
So all of us had guilt that I did not speak up and actually was part of those who hurt, who contributed to the death of a young man. And you say, you're a terrible person, but I wonder how many of us, by words, by deeds, even without being aware of it have said and done things that have created pain and suffering."
And what about the church of Jesus Christ? Campolo tells another story about a friend who pastored a church up in Brooklyn. It was a dying community, a place where everything was disintegrating. Jim, the pastor, kept himself fed and clothes and his family cared for, by doing odd jobs, one of which was doing funerals for the local undertaker when nobody else would take them. This pastor said that the undertaker called him early one morning because he had a man to bury who had died of AIDS and nobody wanted to take the funeral so he ended up taking the funeral.
Campolo asked, "What was it like?
Jim replied, "About 25 homosexual men came and sat there. The whole time I spoke their heads were down and they looked at the floor. Never once did they make eye contact with me during the funeral. We then went out and followed the hearse out to the cemetery, lowered the body into the grave. I stood on one side of the grave; they were on the other side, standing there like statues. I read some scripture, said some prayers, committed the body to the grave, said the benediction and started to walk away, but they didn't move. They just stood there, so I came back and said, ‘Excuse me, is there anything else I can do?’
"And one of the men said, ‘Yes. I never go to church. Used to go to church but not anymore. The only thing I really liked about church was when they read from the Bible. You didn't read the 23rd psalm. I thought they always read that at funerals. Could you read the 23rd Psalm?’"
So Jim opened the Bible and read the 23rd Psalm. Another man said, "There's a passage in the 3rd chapter of John about being born again. I like that one. So John read that. Then a third man said, "The 8th chapter of Romans, right at the end, that's what keeps me going." And Jim read to these homosexual men. "Neither height nor depth, neither principalities nor powers, neither things present, nor things to come, nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Nothing. And when he told me that, Campolo says, I hurt, I hurt, because I knew that these men wanted to hear the Bible but would never step foot inside a church because they are convinced that church people despise them. And do you know why they think church people despise them? Because church people despise them.
Campolo concludes his two stories by saying that he is talking less about homosexuality and more about the church. In particular he says “I am disapproving of a church that has forgotten how to love people that Jesus will never stop loving. And if you don't like it, join another club but don't call yourself a member of the church of Jesus Christ for we are the community of lovers and we love all kinds of people with all kinds of sin and that's your good fortune and mine too, for where would we be without such a church. And I want it to be the church that Christ wants it to be.”
Now, I know that in this Episcopal Church of ours there are differing opinions about homosexuality. I was reminded of that fact again this past week when I was up in Concord, New Hampshire, offering testimony to the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music about the need for the Church to adopt a uniform service of marriage for opposite sex and same sex couples. I suspect that most of you here today believe that homosexuals and heterosexuals are born with their gender identity in place, and that there may also be people here today who believe that homosexuals are choosing a sinful path. But more important than our differing opinions is this, and I say this to our Church and the entire Anglican Communion: Our church is big enough that we can differ and still have room for all of us. Further, I hope and believe that all of us in this room this morning as well as those who are absent can agree that no one deserves to be bullied or harassed or tormented for being different for any reason.
In today’s gospel Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Once he gets there he will look down from the cross, and when he does he will not see Samaritans or Jews or lepers or Pharisees or tax collectors or Republicans or Democrats or gays or straights or blacks or whites or Hispanics, Brazilians or Asians. No, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and when he looks down from the cross, he will see at his feet the Kingdom of God - which is open for and welcoming of us all, and where all, absolutely, unequivocally all God's children can be made whole.
In my ministry I have often worked with those who were considered to be "other" for any number of reasons. I offer the following for those who may want to look into this issue of bullying more deeply.
I often have often had to put on a gown and gloves and mask to visit someone in the hospital when there is a question of whether or not an infectious disease is involved. It wasn't that many years ago that there were doctors and nurses who wouldn't even treat those infected with HIV Disease. I know that first-hand from working with people living with the disease in Dallas, and visiting them at Parkland Hospital when I was working with the AIDS Interfaith Network.
I suspect that most all of us know what it means to be considered "unclean" and to dwell alone outside the camp. All of us have either been there at one time or another or have known someone who was.
All of us have also been on the other side, on the inside looking out at those who are on the outside and considered to be unclean, those who are taunted and harassed or injured because of who they are. At the very least we have been on the side lines watching, feeling helpless to do anything about the suffering of those being tormented, or much worse, not wanting to get involved.
Bullying has been in the news these past few weeks following the suicide of Tyler Clementi, a Rutgers University freshman who jumped off a bridge after his "roommate and another student used a webcam to broadcast live images of him having an intimate encounter with another man on the internet." But the truth is even sadder than this one man’s suicide: Clementi's death is just one in a string of suicides involving young people believed to have been victims of anti-gay bullying."
After I heard this, I sat in front of my computer screen as news stories continued to appear about the suicides of 13-year-old Asher Brown, 18-year-old Tyler Clementi, 13-year-old Seth Walsh, [15-year-old Justin Aaberg], and 19-year-old Raymond Chase. Today, it is very clear to me that profound sadness and stunned silence is no longer a suitable, appropriate, or adequate response.
Anti-gay bullying is a theological issue because it has a theological base. I find it difficult to believe that even those among us with a vibrant imagination can muster the creative energy to picture a reality in which anti-gay violence and bullying exist without the anti-gay religious messages that support them.
Clergy in America are part of the problem if they are unwilling to address this issue from the pulpit. As a side-bar to this story, you may have heard on the news or seen on YouTube the message that Joel Burns, an openly gay Fort Worth City Councilman read in last week’s City Council meeting of how he was bullied when he was 13 for being gay.
God forgive us. We have a responsibility, as Jesus shows us in scripture over and over again, to speak up for those in society who are being bullied because of the color of their skin, their nationality, their occupation, their religion, or their sexual orientation.
That last one is what scares people the most. Most preachers don't touch it because they are afraid of losing members, afraid that they will lose respect.
The most dangerous theological message comes in the subtlest of forms: silence. Sexuality has been a taboo subject in most Christian pulpits and churches, and shame on the clergy for avoiding it, we shepherds who are supposed to care for the least and the last, and seek the lost until they are found.
And I would also add shame on all people who claim faith in the one who would not crush the bruised reed for being silent.
I hope that I never need to speak specifically to my congregation about the issue of bullying. I have seen no signs of it at Grace Church, although I have read and heard about it prior to my being called as Rector. I believe that everyone is welcomed and accepted at our Church. We all know, or are learning, that it is only by the grace of God and the mercy and forgiveness we know in Christ that we dare to approach God’s throne of grace on Sunday mornings. Plus, I have personally witnessed many in my congregation that go out of their way to surround with love and caring people who have been hurt by others.
Our Church is, and all Christian Churches should always be, a place of refuge for the battered and the broken. That's why many of us are here. But I do know that bullying exists in our community – and so do you. And we all know that if we are silent about it there will come a time when another child, perhaps even one of our own, takes his or her life because of being tormented for who they are.
The gospel tells us that Jesus healed ten people with leprosy and one came back to thank him, falling at his feet even, shouting "Praise be to God." Jesus looks around at all of the respectable people who are leaning in to hear what he is going to say, and he says, "Where are the other nine? Didn't I heal ten? Where are the rest of them?
The only one to come back is the foreigner, the hated, despised Samaritan, or to use folks from our own time, the Nazi skin head, the tattooed and heavily pierced gangbanger, the illegal alien, the Muslim, the democrat, the republican, the progressive liberal, the socialist, you can come up with your own marginalized group if you want. Suffice it to say that the one who came back was the one nobody wanted to share life with, much less see healed.
Yet the thankful one is the one everybody hates. He, or she, the Gospel writer doesn't specify gender, is the one who gets it, that it is God who heals, that it was God who was in Jesus turning the world upside down.
In response, Jesus said, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well." "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you God, this former leper must have cried out as she ran all the way home.
Imagine what that homecoming must have been like. Her cure meant that not only her physical suffering had ended and that she wouldn't die an agonizing, painful death alone, it meant that she would have a family again, that she could hug and kiss her children for the first time in years and be hugged and kissed by her husband and her parents. It meant that he would belong to a community again, have neighbors and friends who respected and loved him. It meant…it meant…that he would have a life.
This is what we should be about at our Church, helping people to get their lives back, to know the wholeness that comes from living in Christ.
Tony Campolo, noted preacher, speaker and professor emeritus at Eastern University in Philadelphia tells a couple of stories that are particularly relevant to this issue. The first took place when he was in High School. Campolo writes: "There was a boy in my high school, named Roger. It's not really his name. I'm just giving him the name Roger. We knew he was gay and the day he was most at pain was the day of gym because after we played some games we had to go into the shower and he would never go into the shower with us. When we left the shower, we took our wet towels and would sting his body by whipping the towels at him.
As we walked past Roger we would whip the towels at Roger and sting him and we thought it was great fun to see this queer dance under our taunts. We thought it was fun to work on him. I wasn't there the day they shoved him into the corner of the shower and 5 guys urinated all over him. But that night Roger went home, went into his garage, and he hung himself.
So all of us had guilt that I did not speak up and actually was part of those who hurt, who contributed to the death of a young man. And you say, you're a terrible person, but I wonder how many of us, by words, by deeds, even without being aware of it have said and done things that have created pain and suffering."
And what about the church of Jesus Christ? Campolo tells another story about a friend who pastored a church up in Brooklyn. It was a dying community, a place where everything was disintegrating. Jim, the pastor, kept himself fed and clothes and his family cared for, by doing odd jobs, one of which was doing funerals for the local undertaker when nobody else would take them. This pastor said that the undertaker called him early one morning because he had a man to bury who had died of AIDS and nobody wanted to take the funeral so he ended up taking the funeral.
Campolo asked, "What was it like?
Jim replied, "About 25 homosexual men came and sat there. The whole time I spoke their heads were down and they looked at the floor. Never once did they make eye contact with me during the funeral. We then went out and followed the hearse out to the cemetery, lowered the body into the grave. I stood on one side of the grave; they were on the other side, standing there like statues. I read some scripture, said some prayers, committed the body to the grave, said the benediction and started to walk away, but they didn't move. They just stood there, so I came back and said, ‘Excuse me, is there anything else I can do?’
"And one of the men said, ‘Yes. I never go to church. Used to go to church but not anymore. The only thing I really liked about church was when they read from the Bible. You didn't read the 23rd psalm. I thought they always read that at funerals. Could you read the 23rd Psalm?’"
So Jim opened the Bible and read the 23rd Psalm. Another man said, "There's a passage in the 3rd chapter of John about being born again. I like that one. So John read that. Then a third man said, "The 8th chapter of Romans, right at the end, that's what keeps me going." And Jim read to these homosexual men. "Neither height nor depth, neither principalities nor powers, neither things present, nor things to come, nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Nothing. And when he told me that, Campolo says, I hurt, I hurt, because I knew that these men wanted to hear the Bible but would never step foot inside a church because they are convinced that church people despise them. And do you know why they think church people despise them? Because church people despise them.
Campolo concludes his two stories by saying that he is talking less about homosexuality and more about the church. In particular he says “I am disapproving of a church that has forgotten how to love people that Jesus will never stop loving. And if you don't like it, join another club but don't call yourself a member of the church of Jesus Christ for we are the community of lovers and we love all kinds of people with all kinds of sin and that's your good fortune and mine too, for where would we be without such a church. And I want it to be the church that Christ wants it to be.”
Now, I know that in this Episcopal Church of ours there are differing opinions about homosexuality. I was reminded of that fact again this past week when I was up in Concord, New Hampshire, offering testimony to the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music about the need for the Church to adopt a uniform service of marriage for opposite sex and same sex couples. I suspect that most of you here today believe that homosexuals and heterosexuals are born with their gender identity in place, and that there may also be people here today who believe that homosexuals are choosing a sinful path. But more important than our differing opinions is this, and I say this to our Church and the entire Anglican Communion: Our church is big enough that we can differ and still have room for all of us. Further, I hope and believe that all of us in this room this morning as well as those who are absent can agree that no one deserves to be bullied or harassed or tormented for being different for any reason.
In today’s gospel Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Once he gets there he will look down from the cross, and when he does he will not see Samaritans or Jews or lepers or Pharisees or tax collectors or Republicans or Democrats or gays or straights or blacks or whites or Hispanics, Brazilians or Asians. No, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and when he looks down from the cross, he will see at his feet the Kingdom of God - which is open for and welcoming of us all, and where all, absolutely, unequivocally all God's children can be made whole.
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