Proper 8B
In the name of God who gives us life, Christ who heals us,
and the Holy Spirit who makes us free.
Amen.
One of the things that most impressed me when I first
arrived here - and that was also impressive to our Bishop when he was here a
few weeks ago - was the deep spiritual commitment that can be seen throughout
this parish. This isn’t a parish that just
leaves the praying to the priest. There
are people exercising their own spiritual talents and abilities all over this
church.
You can see this in many of the meetings that happen around
here. It’s not uncommon for meetings in
churches to begin with prayers, but the thing that makes St. David’s special,
is that the responsibility for leading those prayers is shared around the
tables. At our Vestry meetings each
month, one among us will lead prayer on a rotation. She or he can choose to use a suggested prayer
from a list that was previously compiled, but as often as not, the person
leading will have another prayer in mind that they think works better. Then, after that, another member will share a
spiritual or inspirational moment with the rest of the group.
For a priest, it’s really exciting and fun to be a part of a
congregation that takes this commitment to prayer and spirituality so
seriously.
But nowhere is our commitment to praying with and for one
another more moving, than it is in our commitment to healing ministries. One Sunday each month - and today is that
Sunday this month, actually - a team of people stand on the sides of the altar
to offer healing prayers for anyone who feels the need for it. You only have to avail yourself of the
ministry, and it is provided - no questions asked, no judgement, no
problem. Then, every Thursday, a small
group of us gather in the chapel to celebrate the Eucharist together, and to
pray for healing and wholeness - not just for each other, but for this entire
community - even the parts of it that are out of reach and out of sight. Again, anyone can be a part of that. And, in fact, you are a part of it - whether
or not you’re present, because we’re praying for you.
Today, we hear two stories of Jesus’ healing. One is the daughter of a leader of the
synagogue - a pillar of the community - turning desperately to the saving help
of a renegade, travelling preacher. The
other is an outcast - an unclean woman: two strikes against her - who had been
ailing for years, with no relief. She
interrupted this famous traveler on his way to help the more powerful man when
no one else could (or would) help her.
It’s almost hard to tell which of these people was more
brave: the man who had the wind at his back, but risked it all to save his
daughter - even if it was with the help of someone he should have reviled; or
the woman who had all the odds stacked against her, but who risked even the
little standing she did have, because her faith told her that relief was within
her grasp.
Healing - as a ministry - is a curious thing. When I was first studying to be a priest, and
even when I was first ordained, my parish, at the time, had a little healing
service at 7:00 on Wednesday mornings.
While I’m not one of those people who can’t function first thing in the
mornings, I’m not completely a “morning person”, either. Getting up for a service at 7:00 was
challenging.
But, as I went through the routine over the course of the
years I was there, a deeper challenge began to emerge: something about those
healing prayers felt inauthentic to me.
It wasn’t as simple as if I didn’t believe, I just didn’t really
understand it. We prayed for one dear
man each week, for healing as he faced terminal cancer, but we all knew it was
a matter of time. Sooner or later, his
battle would end - and not because our prayers were as strong as Christ’s. We prayed for others who weren’t even there:
a woman who was less than even a shell of her former self as she succumbed to
dementia, a child who was trying to find his way in the world, despite
irreversible birth defects, and many others.
What could our simple prayers for healing do for all of them?
I talked about this with my mentor, and tried to find some
spiritual peace with it. But it wasn’t
until later that it all began to make sense.
One day, while working in another parish, we received word that one of
the leaders in our community - a young man with early teen-aged daughters - had
had a massive heart attack while attending a meeting in Manhattan. He had survived long enough to make it to the
hospital, but it didn’t look good.
I was about to go in to the city to visit with his
daughters, who were a part of my youth group, but in terror I went into the
rector’s office and asked what I should do.
She told me that it may well be that the best thing I could do would be
to sit with the daughters and distract them - even if only briefly - from the
horrors they were experiencing. And, if
nothing else, I should offer to pray with them.
This prospect terrified me. How
could I pray when there was nothing that anyone could do? What should I pray for?
My Rector, at the time, gave me some of the best advice
about prayer I’ve ever heard, and I still think of it to this day. She said, “Ask them what they want you to
pray for, then pray for that.” I said,
“But what if it’s unrealistic? What if
it can’t happen?” She said, “That’s not
for you to decide. Just pray.”
Well, I did pray for him.
I prayed for everything that his daughters asked: that he would wake up,
and laugh again, and that everything would be fine. And a few days later, he died.
But even so, healing happened. His daughters, and his wife were reminded
that God hadn’t forgotten them - a lesson that would uphold them in the days
that followed, and even more as they worked their ways through their grief and
growth into their new reality. I was
healed of the fear that my prayers might not be strong enough - not because I
was proven strong, but because I came to see that it wasn’t about me, or about
the strength of my prayers, but instead, it was, and is, and always will be
about God, and the created order that God has promised to love and care for.
The message of this story that we read today isn’t that if
we pray for the impossible, God’s blessings will drop out of the sky according
to our demands, like from a genie in a lamp.
No, the message is that God’s blessings are open to all who will believe
- whether strong or weak, male or female, leader or servant, north or south,
red or blue, whatever and whomever we can imagine. And also that faith IS healing. In the midst of all that there is to fear in
the world, the message is clear: “Do not fear.
Only believe.” Life is life, and
sometimes it hurts, and sometimes we don’t understand, and all too often our
faith falls short. But even despite all
of that, God loves us and heals us. Even
if we can’t quite grasp that healing at the time.
So keep praying. In
meetings, and at bedsides, and when you know you need healing, and even when
you don’t know that you need it. Prayer
is less about what you say, and more about making space for God in your
life. Even if your wishes don’t come
true. Even if you mess up the
words. God keeps loving us, even when we
forget. Amen.
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