I wonder what it was that weighed so heavily on her that her body bent over.
Scripture says she had been
like that for eighteen years, but you know it took a few years of pain prior to
that to end up in that situation. Probably arthritis. It might have been a
neurological complication or a nutritional deficiency.
Maybe she wasn’t old at all
but because she had battled one of the diseases of the curvature of the spine
(kyphosis, lordosis, or scoliosis) since pre-adolescence, all the years of pain
made her look old.
I wonder what moved her to
come into the Temple that Sabbath day? Had she just been coming every day and
had forgotten that this day was the Sabbath? Had she forgotten where she was and
why she came there? Dare she hope, after
all these years, for a miracle?
As a woman in antiquity, she was used to being
invisible – especially in places where men were in power and authority as they
would have been in the Temple – so to dare to be seen and dare to be healed
took enormous courage.
But, what was she thinking?
It was the Sabbath. If this upstart young Rabbi from Nazareth was going to heal
her, surely he wouldn’t do it on the Sabbath!?! He knew the rules, the laws of
Torah. So did she.
She may have thought: What if the pain becomes too much and
I cry out? What if I am seen and then rejected?
Perhaps that’s why she didn’t throw herself at the feet of Jesus and ask for healing as so many men and women before her had done. Maybe she just pushed through the pain, pushed through the fear, pushed through the anxiety, and just simply put herself in a position to be seen, in a place where healing might happen, and trusted the rest.
In my experience, healing or miraculous events, if they are going to happen, happen just that way. Sometimes, it takes being so intense, so focused on that which you are seeking, that all the energy in your body and mind, your heart and soul and spirit becomes immersed in that intention. The hours, the cost, the risks are not counted. The only thing that matters is the pursuit of the thing you seek.
It takes time. It happens over a period of time. We’ve seen that happen with healing and health. We call that “the miracle of medical science”. Diseases that people died of just a decade ago now have what we often read as “a new lease on life.” Deadly disease like AIDS that once wiped out people in 18 months are now “chronic diseases with terminal implications.”
Is that a miracle? Is that evidence of divine intervention? Or is that just “modern medicine”? Is that evidence of human intellect and ability – or, hubris? – or does God get any credit?
You in this church are holding evidence of a miracle.
In your service bulletin, you
will find a copy of the report of the Mutual Ministry Review (MMR) that was
recently completed by some of the leaders of this congregation. It was led by
Fr. Jeff Ross, rector of St. Peter’s, Lewes, who knows a thing or two about
congregations. It is being distributed to you today so that you will have a
chance to read it and, as one of our collects says about scripture: “read, learn,
mark, and inwardly digest” it.
Next week, Linda Dennis, a vestry member and participant in the Mutual Ministry
Review (MMR), will talk briefly with you about it during the announcements and
then be available to discuss it with you after church.
As a reminder, I won’t be here next Sunday. I’ll be with my cousins and other relatives as we lay to rest the last of the previous generation of family members. God willing, Deacon Pete and Nancy will be able to return to church. So, I want to say this to you about the MMR.
I was telling a colleague about the MMR and she laughed and said, “It wasn’t that long ago that you told me you’d never do parish ministry again. Whatever possessed you to go to St. Paul’s?”
I had to laugh at myself before I could answer. God knows, I was pretty clear with Judy Dean and then Sharon Mackwell and then Dick Bennett that Hospice is my jam. It’s not that I don’t like parish ministry. I do. It’s that I am not at all interested in maintenance. At. All. And, in many places in the Episcopal Church, interim and parish ministry is all about maintenance.
Oh, that’s not what we say. What
we say is that we want to grow. We want young families. (I don’t know a church
that doesn’t say they want young families.) And so, of course, we want a young
priest. Married, preferable. If we’re honest, we have a male in mind but, you
know, women priests are not an issue, so yeah, we’ll take a woman. That’s not
exactly a ringing endorsement, but it’s a start.
But, young. Definitely young. Energetic. Able to attract other young families with kids. Lots of kids. And, a church school. Because, we’re ready for change.
Funny how that change – that ‘new
church’ – looks suspiciously like the church did way back in 1950. The truth is
that the change most churches are talking about is changing from what is –
almost dead – to what it once was.
I call it, “The Episcopal Church of the Future:
Building a Better Yesterday.”
Now, that’s not what I heard here at St. Paul’s. What I heard here at St. Paul’s
was what I see in that woman in this morning’s scripture. Weary. Worn out. Anxious.
Exhausted and bent over from years – 18? 10? 5? , too many years – of carrying
around this dream of the past. And feeling defeat and a deep sense of shame
that you hadn’t been able to achieve (what’s that current buzz word?) “vitality.”
I also saw some people who
wanted to throw off the burden of trying to attain something that was no longer
possible. I saw a few people who had a clear understanding that something different
was possible. That clinging to the familiar was the path to death, but the path
to life was in taking a risk and stepping into a path whose actual, final
destination was unknown.
What was certain is that a new path would lead to
being prepared to begin a new chapter in the life of the church known as St.
Paul’s Episcopal Church in Georgetown, DE.
I must have asked Judy and Sharon
and Dick a million times, “Are you sure? Are you sure this is about moving
forward? I am not about maintenance. I don’t do maintenance. I do vision. I do
creativity. I do energy. I don’t do backward. I do forward. I don’t do
yesterday. I do today and I look to tomorrow. I don’t do band aids, I do
healing and, if necessary, surgery.”
Yes, they told me. Oh, a few naysayers are
here, but yes. Yes. Yes. And, yes.
And so, I took a risk. And, so did you.
I knew
that there would be a lot of necessary edification. If you remember our annual
meeting in January, I said that would be the word for 2022: Edification, meaning to build up.
I knew
your infrastructure had taken a huge hit and would need a lot of attention.
Everything – from Altar Guild to Hospitality, Christian Formation, Education,
Liturgy, Music, Acolytes, Finance, Administration, Office Managers, Job
Descriptions and Letters of Agreements – all of it needed rebuilding and restoring.
All this re-building and
restoring would be going on while we simultaneously tried to start a ministry
for the future that deals with the present reality of the changing demographic
of the neighborhoods in Georgetown: The Latino Ministry.
And, because of my commitments to Hospice and my work with a major national
organization – and oh, I don’t know, my own family life? – I could only commit
to 6-10 hours per week – knowing full well that there would be times when it
would be more. A lot more.
Sort of like rebuilding and repairing a plane while still flying.
It was going to take a miracle.
What you see in your bulletin, the MMR, is most of all that we’ve been able to accomplish in the past two years. We have doubled our membership and our plate and pledge. We are restoring the infrastructure, and edifying the spiritual life of the congregation. Our new ESL ministry has been established and we are looking forward to our Latino ministry ("LMB") in the Fall.
We are not yet standing straight and tall but we are no longer bent over. We can see each other eye to eye and that has brought with it some new problems. We don’t always know how to relate to one another. We have some serious – some very serious – communication problems.
There has been some passive aggression
and some obfuscation of information.
Some of us don’t know how to use our
inside voices.
Some of us have forgotten that in the church there are no
volunteers. We’re all ministers of Jesus Christ. If you want to hear me use my
outside voice inside, start calling yourself a volunteer.
That will pull my last, poor, tired nerve.
You are NOT volunteers. I am
not the only minister here. You are.
I am the priest, and you are members of
the priesthood of all believers. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.
And, there is no “this is my ministry and that’s your ministry.” We are all ministers
who do the ministry of Jesus.
Some have forgotten that three of the most courageous words in the English
language are: “I need help.“ That is second only to admitting, “I don’t know.” And then, asking for help.
Some of us have forgotten
that the church is not the building – the people are the church, We are called
to be good stewards of all that God has given us – which is the building AND
the people of God who come into the building.
The people make the building the
church.
This morning’s gospel
presents us with religious leaders - the leader of the Temple and Jesus - who have a great deal in common except for
one major difference. Both leaders love God. Both love scripture. Both love the
Temple. Both are leaders called to serve the people of God.
One leader was bound
by the Law of the Temple.
The other leader was bound by the Law of the Heart –
the Law of Mercy.
The leader who was able to heal
the disabled woman did so because he stayed focused not on how things had
always been done, but on what was right in front of him as well as what was
possible.
The disabled woman was able to be healed because she allowed herself
to be vulnerable enough to allow the healer to coming face to face with the
problem and look it straight in the eye. She risked what she could only hope
was possible.
The MMR you have in your hands is evidence of God’s handiwork, of the spirit
working through us. (Not just me - YOU! All of you!)
It is nothing short of a miracle.
It demonstrates clearly
that we have come a long way in two years. It indicates that there have been some things left undone. It also contains some dreams for the
future.
The altar you have in front of you demonstrates that there is no
problem that can’t be healed and transformed when we offer it to Jesus.
It takes confessing our brokenness and admitting we have a problem. It takes looking at
it eye to eye, making ourselves vulnerable and putting ourselves in the place
where healing is possible, and then staying focused on the vision of what we
are being called to do.
The Wardens and Vestry and I will
be meeting in early September to have that very conversation. There is a
remedy. There is hope for healing and for the future.
Like the disabled woman, if we are to achieve the vision which called me here –
and the energy of that vision is what attracted so many of you here – we are
going to have to push through the pain, push through the fear, pushed through the
anxiety, and just simply put ourselves in a position to be seen, in a place
where healing might happen, and trust God with the rest.
If we do that – when we do that – we, too, will be like that disabled woman who was free from her burdens, free from her pain, free from her disability, free from her shame, free from whatever bound her, free to remember why she came into the Temple in the first place, free to stand upright and give glory where it belongs: to God who gives us the gift of community, the priesthood of all believers.
Glory to God who gives us the
work of the ministry of Christ Jesus which is our privilege to perform – to feed,
to clothe, to visit, to teach, to build, to repair, to tend, to love, to
communicate, to enable, to empower, to lead, to count, to record, to sing, to
play, to praise, to pray, to start, to finish, to inspire.
Different gifts.
Same spirit. Many hands. One God who gives this ministry, this work, TO US –
all of us – in OUR community of faith.
Glory to God who gives us the power of the Holy Spirit – the power of hope and possibility, the power to know that we (WE - not the building) are the church, the Body of Christ – which allows us to do infinitely more than we could ask for or imagine.
That’s enough for now.
Somebody give me an amen.
Amen.
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