When we feel strongly about something, we don’t often keep it to ourselves. Well, we can. This week I was reluctant to share too much about the place where I found respite. It’s wonderful, and if too many people know about it, it will be hard to make reservations. But it is so good that I want it to stay in business. I want others to have this wonderful experience, too, so I wrote a positive review . . . after I made my next reservation, of course. (You can find it on AirBnB, search for “the Nest at Sewanee.”) When we have something good, we can hoard it, or we can share it: we can work from scarcity or abundance.It sounds like economic terminology, but it works across the board.
We have folks here from the Arkansas Poor People’s Campaign: A Call for a Moral Revival. The Poor People’s Campaign (PPC for short) has twelve main objectives, all based around the moral call we hear from our prophetic ancestors to raise the lowly, to make straight the pathway to heaven, to the kingdom of God. The basis is that we have enough; there’s plenty to go around. The problem is that in our industrial complex, we’ve prioritized materialism, particularly capitalism, over every other aspect of life, including our spirituality. Not that we can’t monetize spirituality, either. Think of all the products we can buy to make us feel like we’re better, more pious people because we have all the right stuff. But we know the truth. All the money in the world can’t make you a better Christian, any more than it can solve all medical crises, your family life, your mental stability, or any other aspect of our life. But when we know we have enough and find contentment where we are, know that we have a network of support, our life worth, our true quality of life reaches that priceless point. You know what I’m saying? Contentment. Blessed assurance. True happiness.
Peter and the apostles are confronted by the authorities in our reading from Acts. Readings later in this past Easter week have included the apostles not being able to keep quiet about Jesus. Whereas everyone knew he had been crucified, only a few had been privy to his resurrection appearances. And once they had seen and known, they had good news to share. Not only that, but they were filled with the power of the Holy Spirit and were proclaiming the Good News and performing good works in the name of Jesus. They were filled with power and continuing to manifest the presence of Jesus Christ among the poor and marginalized, giving them hope and raising them out of their despair. And they couldn’t keep quiet.
“We’ve told you,” the authorities say, but when you’ve got something to say, when truly you have a message to share, especially when it is aligned with the will of God, woe be it to the authorities to stand in your way; they’re just going to have more work to do! Peter and crew answer, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” We must obey God.
Now, the Feast of St. Mark is normally on April 25th, but it got transferred to Monday due to Easter Week, which takes precedence in the church calendar. In the Gospel according to Mark, we get the Great Commission (16:15).
“Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.”
The apostles were told to go to the WORLD and PROCLAIM the GOOD NEWS. Alleluia! Christ is risen! Don’t we say that? We just did, at the beginning of service. Do we say that out in the world? Our gospel lesson today focuses on bringing forgiveness and reconciliation to the world. Do we spread that good news in the world, outside the church walls?
Maybe we’re not so sure we believe in the resurrection and all this “power of the Holy Spirit” stuff. It sounds like a bunch of ghost stories, almost. Idle tales, right? Unless we see and touch and know for ourselves, we’re just gonna stay as we are, trying to follow the way of Jesus as he showed us in his lifetime, keeping his memory alive. That’s a good thing to do, right? Many, in fact, believe the historical Jesus was just that, an example. Maybe that’s where Thomas was in his belief–that it was wonderful while it lasted, but now . . . what do we have now that Jesus is dead aside from our deep grief? Thomas doubted the truth of what the disciples had proclaimed to him until he touched the wounded flesh of the risen Christ, proclaiming, “My Lord and my God!” In that moment, he believed and knew for himself that Jesus Christ was all he had foretold, was everything they hoped for, and more than they could have imagined. The risen Christ was real. Thomas knew personally the reality of the risen Lord, like the apostles gathered with him. With every confidence, they would go out into the world and proclaim that Christ lived, died, and rose again, showing the way to eternal life in God, showing the power of God to triumph over sin and death. And if that was possible, there’s no limit to what love can do. Let us go out and proclaim to the world this Good News.
It would be easier to proclaim the Good News if we actually believed for ourselves that the power of the Holy Spirit could work a miracle or two here and now. There are a lot more Thomases in our faith than there are apostles who share the true Good News. We’re living in dark times now if we only read the headlines, and hope flickers dimly if at all for many and for good reasons.
I was listening to OnBeing, and in the interview between Krista Tippett and Joanna Macy, a Buddhist philosopher of ecology who translated Rilke’s poetry, Macy says that she didn’t believe Rilke emphasized hope. In a way, she said, he seemed to foresee the darkness coming in the 20th century, and his poetry often seemed to address God, especially God in Creation, lamenting humanity’s degradation of that which had been so freely and lovingly given. She said that Rilke didn’t emphasize hope because hoping or gauging how much hope we have can be exhausting. Kind of like if Thomas had never touched the risen Christ and was constantly compared to the other apostles who believed without a doubt. Macy also shared a bit of her own story and journey and recalled one of the main things she gleaned from Buddhist teaching: showing up, being present. Being present and showing up is our biggest gift, she says. Even when Thomas didn’t believe as the others, he returned to be with them, right? He was in the room with them another week later. He showed up.
It is in our showing up that we “have the capacity to love,” Macy said, and this capacity to love gives us solidarity, the power to heal the world. Our heart might be breaking every day, but with our hearts wide open, we give God more room to fill us with the power of Holy Spirit. Macy said something to the effect of “What’s a heart for, if not to be broken?” (The title of the interview is “A Wild Love for the World.”)
The healing we experience from our deepest wounds teach us great things; it gives us a learning we know in our bones, so to speak. Maybe our lessons aren’t major, like me being tired and going on retreat. The experience of restoration is wonderful, and I have experience to share with others about the benefits of self-care. But maybe they are significant. If I’m in recovery and making the daily decisions to support life and health, I have my experiences to share and offer support to others, helping them toward a way of life and health. If I’ve been a victim of child abuse, through foster homes, through counselors good and bad, I have invaluable experience to share with others to find their way toward a life of peace, a life restored. If I’ve been living a life in the dark, drowning in sorrow and despair, and found a point of light I could cling to until I surfaced into a life that offered a sense of wholeness and joy I didn’t think was possible, I have good news to share. It’s my personal experiences that make all the difference, that affirm my belief that there is something to this life that speaks to love, and when I lean into that love for myself, and especially toward God and my neighbor, it gets big quickly.
Joanna Macy, in talking about her journey, said that she grew up in a liberal Protestant church, but it wasn’t until she was at church camp when she was about 16 that Jesus and God became personal, alive for her in a way they hadn’t before. In all the resurrection experiences, it’s personal: the risen Lord appears to people who eventually see and believe. What if in my life experiences and the lessons I’ve learned I look for the presence of Christ? What if it’s not the wounded hands and sides we need to touch, but it’s the lives of ourselves and others that we need to be present to, to show up for until we know that we are connected in a way that passes our understanding? Like in the Truth & Poverty tour, we need to see our neighbors, reach out to them, hear their stories, lend a helping hand or bond money or food or advocacy, and be the presence of Christ to them. Even with broken hearts, maybe even helpless, if we show up and allow the presence of Love to be in our midst, doesn’t that speak to our faith?
If we’ve already seen the presence of God in our lives and have a faith that in one way or another has touched the wounds of Christ and known the power of God’s reconciling love, why don’t we share that faith in as many words with others? Why don’t we risk letting our hearts be broken, risk being embarrassed for a minute, risk being rejected, to say outloud that we love Jesus Christ, that we’ve experienced the presence of God in our lives, and that coming to our church helps us stay strong in that faith if not feel the presence of the Holy Spirit directly. Or do we want to hold that love for ourselves? My loves, our hearts aren’t big enough for the love of God, for all of Creation. Let’s risk being broken hearted for love of the world, for love of God. Let’s tend to our neighbors and this little bit of earth and do our best to say it like we mean it, knowing that the powers and principalities in this world have no hold on the children of God: Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
As the weather beckons us outdoors, it is not lost on me that many are fueled in their connection to the divine by being outside. It is crucial that we maintain a relationship with Creation, remembering that we, after all, are the stewards of this fragile earth. Amidst storms, tornadoes, and raging waters, we realize our fragility, too, our vulnerability with forces greater than ourselves. We do the best we can at any given moment, and truly only God knows what the effects will be generations down the road. But like the brand Seventh Generation, who attributes their guiding principle to the ancient philosophy of the Iriquois, we need to think about the actions we take now and how they will affect the sustainability of the future even to seven generations (that’s our great5-grandchildren).
This line of thought about decision-making comes to mind when I hear Jesus asking the ill man at the waters near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem and after taking the last of the family systems classes I’ve been taking this past year. The man at the pool was asked a question about his personal well-being, and in family systems thinking, we think about ourselves as individuals but also in the context of a larger whole, the collective, a family (however big or small).
Every moment we’re making decisions like how we use our time, which route we take to get where we want to go to dodge traffic, and what we’ll eat. We know these have consequences, hopefully helping us lead safe and healthy lives. We are fortunate to have a baseline of privilege, ability, and a certain level of affluence. It’s hard for me to imagine being in a place like the man lying by the pool in Jerusalem who for 38 years is sick, lame or partially paralyzed, apparently unable to go into the pool by himself where he might at least be cleaned. Surely this man was an untouchable, someone no one would risk their own well-being to help. What does Jesus do? What did the Good Samaritan do? He sees the unwell man. Over 38 years, don’t you imagine that the man had become invisible? How long do you have to live in a city where you no longer notice the homeless sleeping on benches or sidewalks? Hopefully we would never be blind to the suffering of our neighbors, but that homelessness, dire poverty exist, we have let it not be our problem to solve.
Jesus sees the man lying there, knows he had been there a long time, and asks him, “Do you want to be made well?”
I could stop there with this passage and bask in the grace and mercy waiting in the wings. “Jesus, ask us today, ask EACH of us today: Do you want to be made well?” Wouldn’t we fall at his feet and wash him in our tears? “Yes, Lord, make me well. Heal all of us.” Isn’t that what you would imagine us saying?
But that’s not what the sick man says, the one who has been lying in sickness and filth for 38 years, 13,870 days and nights. He says, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool . . ., and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” Do you hear this the way that I do? Jesus asked if he wanted to be made well, and the man replies that he has no one to help him or others get in his way. He places the blame outside of himself, but it presupposes that the way to be well is that he has to get into that pool.
Jesus knows the man has been there a long time. Jesus knows the man wants to be well. Jesus knows that man needs to be shown another way. When Jesus says to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk,” he is doing just that. Listen to my voice, follow my command, and you shall be made well. The man heard these words and believed Jesus spoke what is true. His believing and following made him well, but for those looking on, they saw Jesus heal a man on the sabbath, doing work on a day of rest. We know this is another of Jesus’s signs in the gospel and that it’s also something his adversaries will use as fuel against him. I think it’s also important that we know Jesus isn’t telling the man to pull himself up by his bootstraps. Not only is the man not wearing boots, but everything about his situation puts him at a handicap so great that he cannot overcome it alone. He needed an intervention. He needed help. He needed to be shown another way, yet it still remains within his agency whether or not he heeded the way revealed to him.
Unfortunately we don’t often have power of the Almighty to speak the Word and make restoration complete. When we see a problem, we might think we know how to fix it, make it better. We may give a few dollars away or hand out bags of sustenance and hygiene to the homeless on the roadside, and this is good, helpful for a moment. This Friday I got off the interstate and realized no one was in the left turning lane. I looked at the corner and noticed a man standing there with a sign, as is often the case. The other turning lane had at least six cars in it, and honestly it crossed my mind to get in line behind them so as not to have to interact with the person on the side of the road. I didn’t have any money or food within my reach. I had nothing to give him. I recalled, however, that visibility means something. I had a card with our church number. This happens all in seconds, right, this decision-making. I rolled down my window as I approached the man, who turned his weary eyes my way. “I don’t have any money or food to give, but what do you need?” I asked him, hoping that I might at least be able to point him in the right direction. “If you could give me a prayer,” he said. I stuck my arm out the window, extending my hand to him, and he gave me his hand to hold as I prayed that the Lord would bless him and show him the way, provide for him and guide his path, and whatever else I said, hoping that the Holy Spirit was giving him the words he needed to hear. I realized as I drove away that I forgot to remove my sunglasses so that he could see clearly that I saw him. I had remembered to ask his name. Gregory.
“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus asked.
We don’t always know what we need for ourselves, and we certainly seldom know what another person needs. We do know that our individual well-being benefits us all, and we have to want to be well ourselves before we can take next steps. But just because we want to be well doesn’t necessarily mean we want the whole system to be well.
I can make full recovery and then return to the activities or exploits that made me sick or ill or dis-eased to begin with. I can make my way up out of the valley and once on higher ground contribute to keeping others in the valley. How many people who have truly experienced the pitfalls in the welfare, medical, incarceration, housing, immigration, and all other systems are actually in positions to make the changes that need to be made to heal what is broken or flat out isn’t working?
This is where the family systems class struck me. At the end of the class, we were posed with a powerful question. (That’s often the case that some of the most intense questions or would-be conversation comes when time is up, isn’t it?) The question was
How many people would it take, doing even one of the following:
- Connecting with their generations, eradicating all their personal cutoffs
- Educating themselves as to the facts in our society
- Becoming clear on their guiding principles, being guided by them instead of the anxiety of the moment or groupthink (mob mentality)
- Taking a stand, after careful consideration
- Defining a self in their families
- Becoming principle-guided parents, rather than projecting a worried focus
to bring the regression to an end?
The regression speaks to the place we are in our society that is incredibly polarized, emotional to the point of triggering fight/flight responses, and reactive rather than proactive for the benefit of the common good (my lay summary). From a family systems perspective, the regression indicates that we are not well. We really need only look at the increased violence, depression, anxiety, addiction, and everything else that contributes to our dis-ease to affirm that we’re not in an overall good place, not to mention the groaning of the earth itself with the weight of our population and exploitation of natural resources.
Family systems say that there are leadership principles that can influence the system or society in a positive way. Those principles are to
- Learn the facts,
- Learn to “think systems” (or to think relationally),
- Get clear on one’s guiding principles, and
- Take a stand.
“Do you want to be made well?”
I want to be well. I want our society to be well. I want our earth to be well. Is my guiding principle for everything to be well? I am fond of repeating Julian of Norwich’s mantra, “All shall be well.” Or is my guiding principle that God’s will be done. My love and obedience to God will guide me and others toward what is good and best for the whole. Come what may, my love of God is steadfast. The Lamb of God is my Light in the darkness; by night I do not need the brightness of the moon. I am open to hear the Word of God; like Lydia I am willing to open my heart and home that the Way of Christ may fluorish. May God use my heart, my mind, my feet, my hands to move us all toward God’s will. Love of God is love for us all.
“Do you want to be made well?”
God’s will be done, now and for generations to come.