Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 23, Year A

Gathered in Prayer

Readings: Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 149; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20

Jesus said to the disciples, “When two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” When I visited South Africa as part of the Decade Festival in 1998, I saw that lived out.

I stayed in the homes of some wonderful women of faith. What struck me most was that no matter where I went the first thing they asked me to do was to pray with the family. We stood in a prayer circle there in those simple homes and offered up our prayers of thanksgiving for new friendships and prayers of blessing on all who lived in that home. Their lives revolved around prayer.

On my last day there, I stayed with a widow, her widowed daughter and two children. In the morning the woman went in to awaken her daughter to get ready for work. She found her incoherent, her mouth drooping, unable to move. She summoned me along with several of her neighbours to pray while she went to phone for an ambulance. That whole day while they awaited the outcome those neighbours stayed in the home and prayed. Our prayers turned to prayers of thanksgiving when the doctors reported that she had a mild stroke and would recover quickly.

A theology student doing a placement in Jamaica described a similar thing. He was awakened one night by someone who was obviously disturbed. She had a terrible nightmare. She knocked on the rectory door for help. He couldn’t think what to do for her. “What do you need?” he asked her.

“I don’t need anything!” was her reply. “I only came to pray with you for a moment. I am alone at home.” He prayed with her and her anxiety cleared. She left calmed by the prayer.

My experience in Africa taught me not to be shy about praying for people. I got into the habit of offering prayer, not only on a visit to a home, but also over the phone if I felt it was needed. One woman in my last parish was going through a crisis at work. She would sometimes phone and ask for prayer.

Simone Weil, the French mystic wrote, “Two and three, and there should be no more.” She was not excluding praying in a larger group, but she knew that prayer amongst two or three has a very special power. Anyone who has ever prayed at the bedside of someone who is ill or on a special occasion knows the power of that kind of prayer. It shows us how good the Lord is, and how present to us.

Each Sunday we pray for people for whom prayer has been requested. We may not recognize the name. We may not know the need. But God knows. And so we lift them up to God. It is a collective prayer spoken by one, but prayed by all.

Yet it often seems that prayer is simply a last resort. At times of disaster churches fill up with people. People turn to God for answers. They find themselves trusting in God. They trust that God helps and protects us.

In this congregation as in many throughout the Anglican Communion, we offer anointing and the laying on of hands. We do so in recognition of the power of prayer at work in our lives. It is a very personal kind of prayer as we ask for healing for ourselves. During the Eucharist today anointing will be offered. You are invited to come, not to be anointed for someone else. That would be like receiving communion and instead of eating it, giving it to a friend. It is meant to be a spiritual blessing to the one being anointed. If you come for anointing you come with something that needs healing and restoration in your own life, whether it is a physical, psychological or spiritual need. As I ponder the readings today I realize that if we put Jesus’ words into context we need to be willing to work through strained and troubled relationships. The prayer of the Church includes prayer for reconciliation.

An elderly man was dying. For years he had been at odds with his best friend. Wanting to straighten things out, he sent word for the man to come and see him. When his friend arrived, he told him that he was afraid to go into eternity with such a bad feelings between them. He apologized for the things he had said and done. He offered forgiveness to his friend for the hurts that had been done to him. Everything seemed fine until his friend went to leave the room. He called out to him, “But, remember, if I get better, this doesn’t count!”

It points out in a humorous way just how difficult the process of forgiveness is for most of us. “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us,” we say in the Lord’s Prayer. It is a reminder that we are called to be forgiving people, to love our neighbour as we love ourselves. As Paul points out to the Romans, “Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”

But that brings up so many questions, doesn’t it? Who is my neighbour? How is “love to do no wrong”? What is the “right” that love must do? How do we live in harmony with God’s creation? Taken to its logical conclusion, it touches every level of our lives.

The readings provide us with some Godly perspectives on the meaning of love and compassion at times of conflict and trouble. What is our Christian call when things go wrong? What do you do when things go wrong in the church? In the gospel we find some fascinating insights into communal relationships. Confrontation is something few people enjoy. Most of us will do anything to avoid it. And yet if the community, any community, is to work together, disputes require reconciliation within a context of deep and heartfelt prayer.

And so in Matthew’s gospel we are given a process for dealing with conflict and finding it in our hearts to forgive. It is a process that recognizes the struggle of the early church to work harmoniously. It was followed to help resolve difficult issues. “If someone sins against you,” Jesus says, “go and point out the fault to that person in private.” It is important to give a person an opportunity to make things right. That is what reconciliation is about. We all know that it does not work to harbour a grievance. It will simply fester and grow out of proportion. Jesus does not stop there. He knows that people do not always take kindly to criticism. The dispute may have to be aired publicly. “If the member refuses to listen, take it to the church.” ‘Take it to the two or three gathered together in prayer,’ Jesus is saying. He knows that we struggle together as the people of God. We are all struggling for the same result, a relationship between earth and heaven, between us and God and each other.

The passing of the peace in our liturgy symbolizes our willingness to be reconciled to one another. As we reach out a hand in friendship the barriers simply come down. We are ready to come to the table, eat and drink, and go out reconciled to be bread for a hungry world.

Proper 10, Year C

I Say to You, Rise!

Readings: 1 Kings 17:8-24; Psalm 146; Galatians 1:11-17; Luke 7:1-17

The readings today are wonderful stories of how the action of God brings life into the desolation of our human condition. Whether it is physical healing or spiritual renewal, God is present with us.

First of all there is the story of the widow of Zarephath. God leads Elijah into the heart of enemy territory. It is a place where the god Baal has its stronghold. There he finds lodging with a widow. As a widow, she is one of the most vulnerable in her society. Yet she willingly helps him. Perhaps her willingness arises from her need. Whatever the reason, she is taking a chance. To harbour him, a foreigner, puts her at great risk. On the other hand, not doing so could mean starvation for herself and her child.

After a time her young son became very ill. “What have you against me?” she rails at Elijah. You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son.” It is a cry from the depths of the human heart and will be uttered in many ways until the end of time. The woman has lost her child. At least that is her presumption. She turns on Elijah in anger. She turns as we so often do, to the very one who is there to help her. It is pain, bereavement, loneliness, fear, all of her emotions looking for an outlet.

There is mixed with her anger, a sense of guilt. There must be a reason for the terrible suffering she is enduring. She must have done something terrible to deserve such treatment. It must be her fault.

That gives way to anger at God. The real culprit is God. After all, God could have prevented this from happening. God is the villain.

How often that is true in the minds of the bereaved. They may not give voice to it. But they will think it just the same. After all, if I rail against God will God make something even more terrible happen?

“Give me your son,” Elijah says to the woman. And then almost echoing her words he cries out to God for help. God answers the prayer. The woman’s son is restored to health.

Let us fast forward to the time of Jesus. He and his disciples, accompanied by a large crowd of people arrive at the town of Nain just as another procession, a funeral procession, approaches the gate. At the head of the procession is a woman, a widow, who is now burying her only son. Jesus has compassion on her. “Don’t cry!” he says to her. He is not telling her that crying is not a necessary human response to her loss. He is not telling her that she is weak for succumbing to her tears. He is not saying that there is something wrong with her. He is simply saying that there is no need for her to cry.

And then he speaks some words that must have startled the onlookers. “Young man, I say to you, rise!” What happened next must have shocked them even more. The dead man got up and began to speak to his mother.

We could get into the usual arguments about this healing. The favourite has always been, “He must have been in a coma. He wasn’t really dead at all.” What we need to understand is that at that moment Jesus is the source of new life to that young man and his family. By extension, we need to understand that Jesus is the source of new life to us.

Paul’s story is also a witness to God’s life giving action in the world. He loves to recount the transforming miracle of his conversion. Indeed, it almost sounds like bragging. He remembers the Damascus Road, the blazing light, the crashing fall, his blindness, the voice of God calling out to him. As surely as God gave new life to the dying child held in Elijah’s arms, as surely as Jesus gave new life to the young man outside Nain, so Christ gave new life to Paul. And he rejoices in it.

Let us fast forward once again to our own time. A friend of mine says that the saddest thing she had to do was to sell the family home following the death of her father. It brought home the reality of his death. As she packed up his things, memories welled up in her of shared family times, of her growing up years, and of wonderful family gatherings centered around food and always, she told me, there was music.

The sale of the home didn’t go well. The house was in a state of disrepair. The décor was less than up to date. It went for far less than she had expected. And along with it went her treasury of memories.

Some weeks later she had the opportunity to meet the new owners. Not only were they lovely people, but they had children and grandchildren and a wonderful sense of family. The most astounding thing was that they were a family of musicians.

Now looking back at her reaction to the sale, she reflects, “Who cares about money? If Dad’s home continues to be filled with love, life and music, then it was the perfect sale.”

Our human condition is such that there are many ways in which we can be regarded as dead. Our faith can be dead. Our love can be dead. Our sensitivity, or joy, or hope, or trust can be dead. All that Jesus can say to us is, “I say to you, rise!”

As surely as God gave new life to the dying child held in Elijah’s arms, as surely as Jesus gave new life to the young man outside Nain, as surely as Christ gave new life to Paul, so God offers new life to us.

So rise, and rejoice in it. Amen.

Proper 23 Year B

Touched By God

Readings: Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-10, 22-23; Psalm 125; James 2:1-10; Mark 7:24-37

Jesus is traveling outside of his usual haunts. He goes to someone’s home. He is trying to keep a low profile, but news of his miracles has preceded him. He is noticed, especially by a woman whose daughter is suffering from what her mother describes as an evil spirit. The woman begs Jesus to heal her daughter. “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” Jesus says to her. What an insult he throws at the woman. I find it so difficult to fathom. What was Jesus thinking? His words must have hurt her so badly. But her love of her daughter is greater than any hurtful words could be.

And so she answers Jesus, “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Jesus has a change of heart. He heals the woman’s daughter. But once again the story surprises me, for he doesn’t touch her. And so I am left asking why not. The gospel constantly gives us glimpses of the miracle-working touch of Jesus. He touches someone whose eyes are opened. He touches another who gets up and walks. Yet another is restored to health and gets up out of bed to serve.

And then there is the story that follows that of the Syrophoenician woman. Jesus is back in Galilee. The crowd follows him, bringing people in need. Amongst those brought to him for healing is a deaf person. Because he cannot hear, he cannot speak clearly. Jesus takes him aside privately. He puts his fingers into his ears. He spits and touches his tongue. Then he simply says, “Be opened,” and the man can speak freely.

And so this week I have led me to reflect on our sense of touch. We use the word ‘touch’ in more than one way. We use it to describe the physical sensation of touching. Our skin, our largest organ, is the sensor for our sense of touch. So our whole body is involved. We also use the word ‘touch’ to describe an inner sense, an emotional response to what happens in our lives. I was so touched by what you said. I was so touched by your kindness. I was so touched by what you did for me.

Sadly often we cannot touch people in a physical sense anymore. Teachers can't put their arms around children in their classes. Even in the church, we have to be careful to check out whether or not it is all right to touch someone. We have to make certain that our actions are not misunderstood. Yet the value of touch is well known and documented. Modern medicine uses therapeutic touch. We may not understand exactly why it is important, but we do know that it works. It is important to our well being. The healing ministry of the church recognizes its importance. It is a ministry not only of prayer. We anoint with holy oil; we lay hands on the sick.

An old friend of mine who has a chronic illness was in hospital for some tests. During her stay, she picked up a viral infection that was resistant to antibiotics. She suddenly found herself in isolation. People had to scrub and put on gown and gloves before entering her room. She felt as if, somehow, it was her fault for catching the virus in the first place. People avoided visiting her. Nurses treated her differently. What she missed most was any form of contact. No one would touch her. It was, of course, for the protection of other patients. But she got the distinct feeling, that even though the nurses knew they were not the ones at risk of becoming infected, an instinctive fear for their own well being kept them even more remote from her. After several months it still bothers her at a deep level.

There is also the experience of nurses dealing with the SARS outbreak. Two of the nurses became ill and so saw the epidemic from both sides. They in particular spoke of the sense of isolation, of not being touched. Patients suddenly found themselves in isolation. Family members were not allowed to visit. Nurses had to scrub and put on masks before entering a room. They spoke about feeling as if, somehow, it was their fault for catching the virus in the first place. Even those who did not get sick said that their whole reason for being nurses was called into question. The sense of ‘tender loving care’, the ability to touch people in a healing way, was taken away from them.

And so I reflect on the other ways in which Jesus touched people. A tax collector turns from his cheating ways to become a follower of Jesus. One who hates Christians, seeking them out to destroy them is transformed by the love of God and becomes a propagator of the gospel he set out to destroy.

Jesus touched people. His touch did not simply bring healing to the deaf man. It freed up all sorts of things in the crowd who witnessed the miracle. The witnesses to the event are touched on an emotional level, opened up. New possibilities blossom within them. Perhaps Jesus is not merely a hometown boy, the son of the carpenter, Joseph. Perhaps he is more than just another itinerant healer. He is, after all, remarkable. “He does everything well!” they exclaim. Healing and wholeness come through this one who stands before them inviting them to be open, touching them, not only physically, but also to their very core.

Jesus through touch, steps over taboos against relating to unclean persons. He widens God’s unending circle to include all of us. By touch eyes are made to see, ears to hear, tongues to speak, feet to walk, hands to serve. He disentangles the broken strands of life, the discordant harmonies of fear, despair and hopelessness. He touches, and people are brought back into relationship with a loving God and walk once more within divine order and orbit.

In the same way, Jesus reaches out into our world. Alcoholics, drug addicts, criminals, the sick, the lonely, the empty, the suicidal, are touched by the Spirit of God and transformed into loving, serving children. And redemption comes to us through God touching us. God identifies with us. God enters into our way of life. God becomes one of us. God reaches out and touches us. We are drawn close through Christ, united, once and for all with God.

The touch of the Christ is on each of us. It comes to us through the Spirit at Baptism. We renew it throughout our lives as we make our own commitment to the faith. It does not do away with all of our problems and conflicts, but it does bring about transformation in our lives. It brings about meaning and purpose and salvation.

For that touch from God is our invitation to be opened, to be opened up to new possibilities, to be touched on many levels. We in turn reach out and touch others.

Openness to God is revealed in action. To be touched by God is to be called into action. As James says, “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” We have been blessed by hearing the word. How do we now “do” what we have been blessed by hearing?

Faith is not merely listening, speaking, discussing, arguing and analyzing. Those all help us to learn about our faith. But knowledge is not enough. Faith is acted out. It is lived out in the Christian life. It is not enough to hear and know all about it. That will never touch another life. As ‘unanglican’ as it may seem, witnessing to what God has accomplished in our lives and acting on it, are an integral part of our faith. Our faith is useless unless it is backed up by our actions. What earthly use is the Christian community if it stands at a distance from the world, preaching at it? How will that touch people’s lives? How will that convey to people a God who walks with us? How could it possible open people up to the truth of the gospel?

The Christian community is called to involve itself with the struggles and problems of the world, a world which is searching to become more truly human. We are not called to stand in judgement. We must not stand at a cultural distance. We must identify with all of humanity. We must enable people to find ways of expressing the life of faith and worship.

May we live out our faith with a sense of justice. May the Spirit of God in us touch others as our lives have been touched by God.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Year B (Proper 13)

He Touched Me

Readings: 1:1, 117-27; Psalm 130; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

Jesus in his earthly ministry touched many lives. He gave hope to the poor. He offered forgiveness to those loaded with the cares of the world. He went about healing the sick. He lived his life following God’s will. In today’s gospel reading we hear about the healing of two people whose lives are intertwined. First a leader of the synagogue named Jairus came and knelt at Jesus’ feet begging him to come and lay hands on his twelve year old daughter who was near death. As he responded to the man’s plea, the crowd followed along. Then there is an interruption. The story of the healing of Jairus’ daughter is put on hold as another story unfolds.

In the crowd was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. Because of the strict purity laws of the Jewish people, such an ailment could force the woman to live in isolation. She could be deemed unclean. Indeed, she had lost her whole fortune making the rounds of various doctors without getting any better. In fact, she was getting worse.

She had heard about Jesus. “If only I could touch his clothes,” she thought, “I would be healed.” She elbowed her way through the crowd. She touched his clothing, just the very edge, the hem of his garment. That was all she dared. That very instant she felt power invading and healing her. Jesus felt power leaving him.

He wondered what he had felt. “Who touched my clothes?” he asked. The disciples laughed. “You’re in a crowd. Of course someone touched you.”

The disciples were right. Hundreds of people were touching Jesus that day. But nothing happened to them. The touching of Jesus had no power in and of itself. No power went out of him. That power comes when you reach out in faith. It happens at the moment when you share his vision and in that sharing you share his power.

The woman was healed because she believed, because she took the initiative and reached out. At least that is what Jesus told her. “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.” It is part of that mystery of why one person is healed and another is not. She brought her own gifts to the situation. She was determined to struggle and to overcome her condition even when others would have become discouraged. She had hopefulness and trust, both amazing gifts to nurture within ourselves.

Then Jesus returned to the matter at hand. Some people came from Jairus’ house giving an update on the little girl’s condition. “She is dead! Don’t trouble the teacher any more.” But it was no trouble for Jesus. “Have faith!” he told the father. Then he and the three he allowed to follow him went to the house. They were already grieving the child’s death. “The child is not dead. She is just sleeping.” Jesus and the disciples hear the sound of nervous laughter. Jesus goes in alone. “Little girl, get up!” he tells her, taking her by the hand. And she awakens. She gets up and has something to eat.

These are powerful stories of healing. They raise so many questions and feelings in us. Many of us who profess to follow Jesus have never really grasped or experienced what Jairus and the woman healed of the hemorrhage instinctively knew. We press upon Jesus like the crowds who gathered to witness his miracles. Yet we often fail to embrace him with a sense of trust.

We believe in God. We pray, at least out of desperation. We try to follow his example. But when it comes down to it, we fail to allow Christ to be living and active at the centre of our beings. We come to Jesus. We hear his words speaking to us from the gospel stories. We express our needs through the liturgy and in our prayers. We praise Jesus in the hymns we sing. We touch him as we receive his body and blood in the Eucharist. But we allow our feelings of guilt, our weakness, our failures, the tragedies in our lives, to overwhelm us. Perhaps our touch has not really been the touch of faith. Have we been simply jostling Jesus in the crowd rather than embracing him?

We understand that there is power in touch. We see both sides of it. We live in an age where touch is not allowed. We have to check before we touch someone. When I first began teaching if a child became upset you could offer a hug. That changed somewhere along the line. In one sense it was a healthy change, for our society became more attuned to the problem of abuse. Children were able to voice their fears and be protected from predators. At the same time we became paranoid about protecting ourselves from the possibility of being accused of being abusive. We lost our innocence. We lost too something precious, the ability to simply reach out and touch someone.

At the same time ironically, therapeutic touch has come into its own. Healing therapies and healing ministries have returned to the Church. Many traditional cultures have recognized that a gentle touch is soothing to those who are ill. Studies have proven that touch is an essential part of human health. After all, skin is the human body’s largest organ. It contains millions of receptors that send messages through nerve fibers to the brain. A simple touch has been shown to reduce a person’s heart rate, lower blood pressure, and reduce stress levels.

We speak as well about touching people emotionally, about the influence that we have on others as we live our lives. How wonderful it is to be touched by the love of another human being. Yet often we are unaware of how God has used us to touch the life of another. We are truly blessed when we learn that we have touched someone’s life.

During the service this morning we will offer as is our custom, the sacrament of healing with the laying on of hands and anointing. It is a awesome process in many ways. Illness can affect every aspect of people’s lives and profoundly wound their spirits. The real benefit of the healing ministry is that it can reassure people that they are loved and cared for, no matter what happens with the physical course of their disease. It can reassure those who are emotionally or spiritually scarred. It can touch them in their lives.

Yet so often when healing is not evident to us, we become guilt ridden. Why do I continue to suffer? Why is my condition not changing? I have faith. At those times of uncertainty we need to consider what changes God is making in our lives. Healing comes about in so many different ways.

I had a dear friend, Jo, a woman of deep faith, who had cancer. As one of her Christian friends, she shared her journey with me. She asked me to pray for her. As she went through surgery, then chemo and radiation treatment, I spent a great deal of time by her bedside, reading to her, sharing dreams, praying for her healing. Then one day she shared with me. “I think God’s healing is going to come in a different way for me. Pray for me that I will have a peaceful death and be with Jesus.” It saddened me. It made me feel guilty. Was I lacking in faith? Was she? And yet I could see peace surrounding her. I could see the pain and fear draining away from her. I came to realize that she knew God’s healing touch. Her death was an answer to our prayer for healing.

As we hold people in prayer during this service let us know the healing touch of God. Let us be willing channels of God’s healing grace.