It's been
one of those weeks. You have them, I know that. But it's either comforting
to you or distressing to you that the Church can have one of those weeks
of particular intensity and bad news which becomes cumulative in effect
so that, once again, it's hard to find God in all of it. The impending
death of a parishioner, the death of a mother of a parishioner, the
prospect of major surgery for another parishioner, major surgery for
a granddaughter, the news that one of us would be facing chemotherapy
next week, anticipation of Robert Gann's memorial service this afternoon
after his death last December, the memorial service Friday for Emily
Mutz-all hard on the heels of Sally Lord's death-topped off, at least
for Bev and me, with a decision Friday morning whether our dog should
have surgery or be put down-gives you the gist of it.
One of
you asked me whether or not God was making some big mistakes, but it
certainly leaves all of us in a position to ask where the redemption
is, how it is that we can find any sense in the progression of events
which feel very much as if a wave keeps knocking us down after just
having come up for air. I asked that question at our Annual Meeting
two Sundays ago within the context of global and national events and
trends that threaten to overwhelm us and have done so since September
11, 2001. But today I ask the same question within the context of how
it is the loss of one member of the body or pain to one member of the
body can also overwhelm us, exhaust us, and leave us spiritually vulnerable.
I wonder
how Peter and the other disciples felt when Jesus asked them to go back
out into the water after they'd worked all night and caught nothing.
I wonder if Peter felt some cynicism as if to say to Jesus, "You
haven't been in our shoes, you don't know how discouraging it is when
your livelihood is threatened, when the stars seemingly conspire to
keep us overwhelmed and fighting for breath."
I remember
the story of the rector who was a predecessor of mine in Southington,
Connecticut who spent his lunch hour several days watching the stonemason
put in a brick patio outside the church's entry. Finally the mason asked
him why he was watching and the rector replied, "I enjoy seeing
you work with your hands." The stonemason replied, "You wouldn't
if you had to do it for a few hours!" Is that what Peter felt?
Is that what we feel when someone cheerily says, "Good Morning!
How are you?" And for once we'd like to say, "Lousy, "
or "Do you really want to know?"
And so
we ask and continue to ask in these settings, in these moods, in these
times of disappointment when we get caught up with things over which
we seemingly or actually have no control, "Where is God?"
For Peter and the disciples, God was standing right there next to them
in the person of Jesus, in his encouragement to try one more time after
their exhaustive efforts had failed them the night before.
This
little story prefigures Paul's reminder in today's Epistle, "that
Christ died…and that he was raised." It prefigures the fact
that redemption can only come out of failure, and that when you and
I are baptized we are "buried with Christ in his death, that we
might share in his resurrection."
Every
Good Friday we recall the pain of the cross because in his humanity
Jesus cried out to God, "Why have you forsaken me?" He prayed
that the cup of his death be removed. But as he suffered, God suffered.
As Jesus died something must have died in God.
You and
I don't have to make excuses for the occasions of feeling despair and
heartache and for asking "Why?" or even "Why me?"
And yet if we can believe that Jesus was not ultimately abandoned on
the cross, if we can believe that Resurrection truly follows Good Friday-our
Good Fridays-then we can remember that God is with us in the MRI's and
CT scans, that God is with us in chemotherapy, that God is with us in
vigil for a family member or friend who has died, that God is with us
in all of that because God loves us. We can believe that in the dark
night of our souls the light of Christ will shine and that no amount
of darkness however pervasive can ultimately snuff it out, not even
death.
Your
Vestry was on retreat yesterday, and we recommitted ourselves not only
to doing the work of the Church in our various ministries but also to
grow as Christians in our spiritual awareness of God's love for us and
our love for one another. We talked about the characteristics of the
Church that define us, that give us our identity as Christians-characteristics
such as our Sunday worship, our life of prayer, both corporately and
individually, our welcome of others, our concern for the poor, the sick,
the imprisoned, our gratitude to God, our baptism. These are what define
us and help us to understand that when we have a week like this we're
not alone even as lonely as we might be feeling at any given moment.
Jesus is right beside us in the boat as are the disciples and the fish
will be caught.
Jesus
said, "The kingdom of God is near you, the kingdom of God is in
you," which is to say that God is near you, God is in you, and
that God will never let go.
I need
to remember that. I need to remember that.
Amen.
