One of the latest memes going around has been:
“Honestly, I hadn’t planned on giving up quite this much for Lent.”
It is always good to keep a sense of humor even in the darkest of times.
But here we are in the midst of a world wide crisis
that is threatening our lives,
shredding our economy
and stressing the very fabric of society.
The world is in the grip of fear wondering what is going to happen next.
We are told to keep our distance from one another,
self-quarantine, don’t gather in groups larger than ten,
and it’s all for good reason.
But the heartache!
I talk by phone with a person in a skilled nursing care facility
whose family can only come to the door and wave,
who is separated from a newborn grandchild she longs to hold.
I ache for those who are homeless,
who have no hand sanitizers, let alone access to a hot shower.
I think of someone dear whose whole high tech department at work
was laid off two months ago and who has been looking for work,
and who told me, “Nobody is even interviewing right now.”
By now we all are feeling the impact and know those who are suffering.
And as has been true in the past, so now
this crisis will bring out the worst and the best in us.
A small virus, a tiny, small virus has stopped the whole world,
stopped us in our tracks.
Part of my spiritual practice is to say thank you for whatever comes up for me,
the good and the bad,
because often the bad can be looked at from a different perspective
that can make it become an opportunity,
an opportunity for a new discovery,
or a challenge to build character and faith,
or a moment for experiencing humility,
or the awakening of new compassion.
But what can we say thank you for with the Corona Virus?
Can we see this virus as a messenger?
A messenger, what is called an angel in the Bible.
A messenger sent to us from the planet herself, Mother Earth.
Hear the message from the virus to humanity:
STOP -- This is no longer a request, but a mandate.
Stop, stop and observe.
Look all around you. See.
Stop all that keeps us from hearing our common heart beat,
and from seeing our intrinsic interconnection with one another,
and our interdependence with each other and the environment.
The virus is a balancing force for us right now.
Observe now that there are fewer planes in the air and cars on the road
how the air is cleaner, how the carbon emissions are diminished.
Observe the dolphins in the canals of Venice.
For us to be healthy all of nature needs to be healthy.
Look at your fear. See it.
What is it telling you about your own health?
and how it is interconnected with the health and healing
of all living beings on the planet.
This time when we are stopped in our tracks
is the time to listen to the whole of creation.
Consider this, that all of humanity is dependent upon the whole environment,
and that environment is our intensive care unit,
that the environment provides our life support.
Intensive Care Unit – ICU, I see you.
The Creator, the One who created all that is,
who in the beginning said, “It is good, it is very, very good,”
the Creator sees us and all the earth,
and loves us and has compassion and offers us a way of healing.
Jesus sees a man blind from birth.
There is no blame, no pointing the finger at his parents’ sin or his own sin.
Jesus sets about creating functioning eyes for this person
so that he can see,
even when those around him that think they know it all
are spiritually blind.
Mud and the moisture of saliva,
and the sending, “Go to the pool of Siloam and wash.”
The blind man, now seeing, tells his story
and keeps to his story, his witness, even at cost to himself,
because now he sees.
And now here we are as a diocese,
seeing each other from afar through this artificial medium
that gives us a virtual fellowship.
And here we are as a diocese having not too long ago asserted that we are
“setting a table in the wilderness.”
What an opportunity we now have for setting that table!
Can you see it? Now is the time when we can be a light in the darkness.
For one thing, many of us now have the time.
We have the time unexpectedly
to be present with ourselves in the present moment.
We have time to be with those of our family,
members of our own household,
to have communication with each other,
which may be good or may be difficult.
We have time to hear birds sing, watch trees bud out and grass grow.
And time to see ourselves, to look within, to see our fear.
What are we afraid of? The ultimate fear is fear of death.
And yet death is inevitable for all of us.
It has been said that death is the cause of all fears.
St. Francis of Assisi referred to Death as Sister, Sister Death,
a companion with him reminding him of how all things are passing,
how the body is made in such a way that it naturally wears out,
how that aging process is a gift to get us ready
to be able to let go of the physical body when the time comes,
and to do so more easily and thankfully
in trusting response to the Light of our life, Jesus,
the One who provides the light we see by.
Think of it this way: Jesus even at this moment
is holding your hand, washed, sanitized or not, holding your hand.
Trust that.
Jesus feels our suffering, our grief, our anxiety and our fear,
Feels it even more than we do or than we are able to express.
This is the depth of his compassion for us.
Through our messenger, this tiny virus,
we are being brought into the immediate present
so that we who have been blind can now see.
All our lives long people have been dying every day
and we have paid little attention.
But today we are more keenly aware.
This crisis is the earth’s way to wake us up, to make us see.
And for us, who would identify as followers of Jesus,
who speak of walking in the way of Love,
who say we are “setting a table in the wilderness,”
this is our opportunity to be a Christian witness in the world,
to be lights,
to be an offering to the world.
Many of you are already engaging in action.
I am so amazed and proud of this congregation here,
the Church of the Nativity,
not the biggest congregation in the diocese by far,
and with our abundant share of gray heads,
organizing a telephone tree and email list and launching it immediately
so that we can be in touch with each other;
parishioners immediately volunteering to make runs
to the pharmacy or grocery stores for those who should stay at home.
Those whose ministry is the food pantry
and the Saturday evening community suppers
making sure we have ways to continue these services
for those who most dearly need them.
We are given the opportunity in a unique and challenging way,
and we are rising to the challenge.
And we also need to continue faithfully in what we now rise to,
since we do not know how long.
We are being challenged in our generosity, which now is critically important.
In some ways we are very much like those first Christians,
forming themselves as a Church under challenging times,
figuring it out as we go along,
still building the airplane while flying it.
And first of all, let us pray,
using this gift of time to be on our knees
literally or figuratively, in body or spirit,
on our knees,
asking for ourselves and for others our daily bread,
and light for the path,
and second sight to see the way,
to discover, to open, to discern,
And with thanks to Canon Kristi Philip for this prayer by Samuel Wells,
let us pray:
God of healing and hope,
in Jesus you meet us in our places of pain and fear.
Look with mercy on those who have contracted the new virus,
on any who are vulnerable, and on all who feel in danger.
Through this time of global concern,
by your Holy Spirit bring out the best not the worst in us.
Make us more aware of our interdependence on each other,
and of the strength that comes from being one body in you.
Through Christ our wounded healer. Amen.
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