Sermon for the 6th Sunday after Epiphany

OK, here's the sermon for last Sunday, up a little late, but I had some odd problem creating posts this time, which seems to be worked out now. I did ad lib a little near the end, especially about reaching out to the community around us and bringing the community into the church, so this is not exactly what I said, but very close. I also thought it was interesting how one person who had been through the kind of CPE I went through focused on that part of the sermon.

Here is a link to the texts for the day at Sundays and Seasons:

http://members.sundaysandseasons.com/planner_rcl_view.php?event_date_id=952

pax Christi,

Pr. J


2-15-2009, Epiphany 6B
Salem-Luther Memorial - Parrottsville, Tennessee
Mark 1:40-45
No title

Back in the summer of 1989 I was doing a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at Baptist Hospital in Columbia, South Carolina. That means my job that summer was to be a hospital chaplain and to sit through endless group sessions while a collection of judgmental rank amateur armchair psychologists, otherwise known as my peer group, tried to psychoanalyze every move and every sneeze I made, as if they didn‘t have their own log in their own eye. And I had a lot of sneezes for them. This is what they used to call “cut throat CPE.” I think it was a very unethical way of weeding out people during the seminary training process, but that‘s another story. Needless to say, I survived, and while the members of my peer group psychoanalyzed one another into oblivion they never did psychoanalyze me so I proudly remain an enigma to this day. Those peer group sessions were probably the hardest part of CPE, a complete waste of time, and I didn‘t learn anything from them.

What was easier, although it did not seem easy at the time, and what was the true learning experience of CPE, was to be out on the floors of the hospital answering calls from patients and staff, sometimes at 3 a.m. , what they used to call the “witching hour.”

I got one such call from a nurse who had a near hysterical patient on her hands, a young man. She would not elaborate on his illness. It took about ten minutes to get to the other side of the hospital. I found the room and there was a sign on the closed door: take necessary precautions, report to the nurses’ station. I went to the nurses’ station and told them who I was and where I was headed. They said I needed to wear a face mask; they weren’t sure, but they thought the guy in the room had AIDS. Back then AIDS was still a new disease. No one knew much about it. They gave me a face mask, “Wear this in the room,” they said. So I put the mask on and went in.

There was a young man in the bed, 22 or 24, scrawny and looking very stressed out, and his girlfriend was pacing the floor. They were obviously scared. That’s what you saw at first glance. A closer look and you could see that this man was covered, absolutely covered in tiny little black pimples, all over his arms, his neck, his face, his hands. The doctors told him he might have AIDS; they really didn’t know, and, in their exemplary bedside manner they told him AIDS was fatal - no cure, and that he should get his affairs in order, and so he was terrified. As he talked it turned out that he was a drug addict, had been shooting heroin and sharing dirty needles, and the doctors thought that was how he had gotten AIDS. They weren’t sure. They were doing tests to see if he had the HIV virus. Meanwhile this man was watching his life pass before his eyes, was acutely aware of every mistake he had ever made, especially getting into drugs. He had never been much for religion, but now he decided it would be a good time to pray. Would God really hear his prayer? He doubted it. I told him otherwise; God isn‘t so cheap. He wanted someone to hold his hands while I said a prayer for him. That meant his girlfriend and me, and he put his black pimple-covered hands out for both of us.

You are the chaplain on duty. Absolutely nothing in your training up to this point has prepared you for this; in fact, this is your training. What would you do? Let’s have your peer group in the pews psychoanalyze you.

This is similar to the situation Jesus faced in the gospel reading. A man said to be a leper came to Jesus. To be honest, any skin disorder, any skin disorder at all back then was called leprosy. You could have acne! - and you would be a lepros: one who has leprosy. That could be bad news indeed, and not just from a medical standpoint. Here’s what the Law had to say about that in Leviticus (13:45):

The person with the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean!’ He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease. He shall live alone, his dwelling place shall be outside the community.

The Law went on to say that the unclean person would be banned from the temple, tradition banned him from the synagogue, and he would have to go through an elaborate and expensive series of rituals just to have authorities civil and religious recognize his healing when he did recover.

Did the man have leprosy as we know it today, or did he have some lesser illness? I tend to think he had something other than genuine leprosy. Modern medical leprosy, Hansen’s Disease, was very rare in Palestine in the first century, but who knows what he really suffered from. What really matters is that he has been banned from the community, he has been marked unclean - not from a medical standpoint at all but entirely from a religious standpoint, his humanity has been stolen from him, and he has been branded by a dysfunctional religion as one who is unacceptable to God simply because of an illness. Indeed, Deuteronomy itself (chapter 28) would go so far as to say that this man has been marked by God as punishment for his sin. And the smug and complacent righteous would point their fingers at him and say, “See the sinner in the hands of an angry God!”

And you didn’t think society could be so cruel, did you?

What does Jesus do? The man has come to him, out of sheer desperation, with nowhere else to turn, cut off from his home, his family, his friends and neighbors, shunned by his own faith community as a sinner under punishment from God, homeless, hungry, perhaps starving now, not able to understand why any of this is happening to him, at his wit’s end. He has come as close as he dare under the Law, he has thrown himself down on his knees to beg Jesus, the Holy One of God who now has a reputation for healing people in Capernaum. “If you choose, you can make me clean!”

What does Jesus do?

Now, if you were a first century Christian, and you were reading this text, or more likely if you were listening to this text read to you in Greek then verse 41 alone would be the kind of verse that would make you catch your breath at several places because it is very dramatic in Greek. Right away you would see that Jesus himself immediately had a gut wrenching emotional reaction to the leper. They make it all sound so holy in our cleaned up English version today: “moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him,…”

Actually, the very first word of verse 41 in the Greek text [splagchnistheis] sounds about as bad as it’s meaning and the basic image it conveys has to do with your stomach sort of lurching about and getting all twisted up and tangled up in knots and cramping and making you bend over in pain, really tough stuff here. A very strong emotional reaction is implied, and that one word has been rendered for us as: “moved with pity,” but a better reading is: “moved with compassion.” Jesus "suffered-with" the man. Jesus had no choice but to feel a deep emotional response to what he was confronted with. That‘s the first place where you would catch your breath as a first century Christian hearing the story.

The next place is where Jesus responds: he stretched out his hand, and you catch your breath again - is he going to do the unthinkable? Is he going to touch the untouchable? Surely not!

And then, our sanitized reading merely says he “touched” the man, but listen to the story like a first century Christian familiar with the ancient words and their nuances and layered meanings and you catch your breath again and maybe even jump in your seat because you see that Jesus not just "touched" the man, but he suddenly grabbed him in a clenching grip as one would apprehend a fleeing criminal, and, at the same time, he said a single, sharp word in the Greek text that means, “I choose!” [thelo].

Then he said another single word that has multiple, layered meanings, “Be clean!” “Be innocent!” “Be pure!” [katharistheti], and it is rendered as a command: this is the way it will be: you will be clean, you will be innocent, you will be pure, now! And so Jesus restored this man’s stolen humanity. And in response the man told everyone what Jesus had done, and the word spread - that’s gossip - and the story grew in the telling, and finally became part of the Gospel, the Good Gossip.

Have you figured out what you would have done for the man in the hospital yet? The clock is ticking and he is waiting for you to take his hand and your peers are waiting to psychoanalyze you no matter what you do.

I had no idea what I was getting into, but I took one hand and his girlfriend took the other hand and I said a prayer for him, and he had a very tight grip. He truly thought he was going to die. But in that moment, which he thought would be one of his last, he knew his humanity had been restored to him by Jesus who had compassion for him.

The test results finally came back. He did not have the HIV virus. He did not have AIDS. He had some other condition connected to his being a drug addict and sharing needles, or that‘s what he said. He would live, and his relief was beyond words. And who knows where he is now and what he’s doing, but at least he knew then that there is a God, and that this God of power and compassion is very much present in his life.

Fr. Timothy Crellin, the priest at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Boston, teaches that from the sense of healing and trust in God’s presence that we find in our lives, we move out to the community – to the world around us where we reach across the barriers of our modern world, putting aside fear and prejudice to reach out with courage and compassion to give a healing touch our sisters and brothers. We have to be Christ for each other, and not just for each other, but for the stranger, those we do not know, and the community around us. We have to be Christ for the community if we are to be true to our calling as disciples, and we have to let others be Christ for us.

Forgiveness, compassion, and love. It begins in our hearts, in our own lives, where Jesus has stretched out his own hand to touch us, and it moves out to the world around us. Jesus gives us power to do the work. He taught us what we need to know to be his disciples by giving us the example of his own unlimited compassion.

Thanks be to God that Jesus invites us to come forward and to show our true selves, heals us, and sends us out to our sisters and brothers with the power of his compassion. Peace be with you.