Sunday, June 27, 2021

Hunger, Healing, and Hope

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

Mark 5:21-43


Let us pray:

Come Holy Spirit, and give us God’s grace that we may know the healing power of Christ’s love. Amen.


In a conversation with some clergy colleagues a few weeks ago, I heard them talk about the blessings and challenges of opening up our parishes for increased numbers of people. There were three “H’s” upon which we agreed: hunger, healing, and hope. Enter the gospel of Mark. Considered the first gospel to be written, and an eyewitness to the first century disciples and Jesus, Mark is filled with fast paced healings. People are hungry for good news and Jesus offers them hope.

In today’s passage, Jesus heals two women, a statement by, in, and of itself. Women were second class citizens, just like children, and considered to be chattel, property to be owned and used by their owners. In today’s gospel, there is a woman who has suffered from hemorrhages for 12 years, and therefore she became isolated because she was considered ‘unclean.’ She dared to touch Jesus in the crowd. 

The other woman was Jairus’ 12 year old daughter; and Jairus believed that Jesus could heal his daughter who lay dying at home. Both people were hungry for healing. Both people were looking to Jesus for hope, and the response of Jesus is recurrent throughout this gospel. “Do not fear, only believe,” he said. And then, after each healing event, Jesus says, “Your faith has made you well.”

 Really? I mean, just believe? Just like that, no questions asked? Now, consider that symbiotic relationship between fear and faith. I have a long history and relationship with both, and quite frankly I can get a little prickly when well-meaning people suggest that a healing did not occur because someone’s faith was too little. And today, the Lord knows that fear is all around us. Lord knows, we’ve been begging for healing and hope.

So what about fear? According to modern day culture, the only two things we should fear are death and taxes. According to Herb Kaighan, an octogenarian and 12 step spiritual retreat leader, there are only two innate fears: the fear of loud noises and the fear of falling. The condo collapse in Miami must have been truly terrifying! Kaighan claims that all other fears are learned behavior. Like ticks on a dog, we accumulate them from the very beginning of our existence and through our personal experiences.

At one point in my own faith journey, my spiritual director called me “Little Miss Much Afraid.” I was afraid of a lot of things for a variety of reasons; and so my faith journey involved a great hunger for healing and hope. I eventually discovered that what is learned can also be unlearned; and old beliefs can be replaced by new beliefs. What I’ve also learned is that I cannot eliminate my fears, only balance them with faith. Like a seesaw, one thing goes up and the other goes down. 

So what exactly were those two people in Mark’s gospel afraid of, I asked myself? First, clearly the leader of the synagogue, named Jairus, was afraid that his daughter was going to die. I can understand that. She was only 12 years old, on the brink of womanhood, and his only daughter. He loved her and he didn’t want to lose her. So great was his fear that Jairus was willing to throw himself at the feet of Jesus and beg for help. I can understand that too. I’ve been there, and done that.

“No worries,” said Jesus to Jairus. “She’s only sleeping. Just believe me.” “Yeah, right,” laughs the crowd, echoing their sentiments of disbelief to one another. But then like the sun peeking out from a cloud of sorrow, Jesus offers a glimmer of hope. Maybe she is only sleeping? And so Mark invites us to be eyewitnesses with his disciples and the girl's parents when we go into the bedroom with Jesus. There he tells Jairus’ daughter, “Little girl, get up!” And she does.

The disciples had seen what Jesus had done on the other side of the sea before this encounter. They had witnessed Jesus heal a man, tormented by demons, and which caused him to be ostracized from his family, friends, and community of faith. Homeless, he lived in a cave until Jesus appeared and healed him. The disciples had also seen Jesus tame the sea on their way back home. With fear in their voices, they asked one another, “Who does that?”

You know that we’ve all hungered for healing and hope during this past year of COVID 19. I don’t need to state the obvious  - even though I just did. While pandemic diseases have claimed the most vulnerable of people, often the poorest, death is still an equal opportunity employer. Eventually it comes to us all. At times of fear then, you may have wondered like me, did my prayers make any difference? Is there more to life than what I can see and touch? And how can I just believe in the invisible powers of God when the visible powers of viruses, violence, and vitriol keep tipping my seesaw? 

Sickness and death are common and universal experiences for us all; and yet our cultural responses to them will vary. According to John Pilch, in his book The Cultural Dictionary of the Bible, for “biblical people, every misfortune was caused by a ‘who’ (God or an evil spirit) and not by a ‘what’ (germs, viruses, genes, and hormones.) The problem therefore could only be helped by a ‘who’ rather than a ‘what’. In today’s gospel Jesus is the ‘who’ who can help us with our ‘whats.’

Pilch also compares the cultural system of the United States to theirs. We tend to prefer the value of achievement over our existence. Oftentimes events like a pandemic, the loss of a loved one or a job, an unwelcome retirement, the crumbling of a building or a marriage, or the aging process can throw our whole sense of integrity, worthiness, and life’s meaning into question. We worry about things that are far beyond our control rather than living simply, one minute and one day at a time, letting go and letting God handle what we cannot. We come to believe that life alone is a gift to be appreciated, and that God holds our lives always in God’s hands. 

In the New Testament, Jesus heals people by restoring them to a proper state of existence in a variety of ways, ending their isolation: lepers are made clean, the blind see, the mute speak, demons are cast out, the sea becomes calm, the girl is roused from her bed, and the woman stops hemorrhaging. Healing was about the restoration of relationships and a reintegration into one’s community not necessarily about a change in physicality. Above all, Jesus healed them by ending their isolation. Welcome back people of Redeemer!

I remember an old joke from years ago when the Sunday School teacher was questioning her class of 1st graders about their faith, perhaps as Barrie Rose is doing this morning. The teacher began by saying. “If I give up all my money, give everything I have to the church, and to the poor and the needy of the world, will I get into heaven?” “NO,” says the class. “How about if I teach Sunday school; serve on the vestry; visit nursing homes and hospitals, and feed the hungry with good food, will I get into heaven then?” “NO,” says the class. “OK, how about if I go to seminary, a preaching class in Virginia, become the rector of Redeemer, surely then I will get into heaven?” For the third time, the class of 1st graders yell, “NO!”

“All right,” the teacher says, thinking that these kids are smarter than she realized. “Then how do I get into heaven?” she asked. And the little boy in the back of the room yells, “YOU GOTTA BE DEAD.”

Members of The Church of the Redeemer in Chestnut Hill, despite your amazing stewardship campaign, the gifts that you have and you share, and the resources that enable your mission and ministry, you are like every other community of faith suffering in one way or another from the post-traumatic stress of this pandemic. Yes, we can point to the who, who caused it (read China or the virus) and the ‘what’ that can cure it (read science and vaccines); but our true health and salvation can come only through the power of God. Integrated once again with our family, friends, and members of our communities we can be grateful today simply for our existence. The gift of life and eternal life is given to us by our Creator. God’s mission is always one of reconciliation, restoration, and resurrection; and we are the beneficiaries.

This passage from the gospel of Mark and today’s cultural reality, invites some questions for personal reflection. What is it that you hunger for? And where are you in need of healing? Will you laugh in disbelief or will you hang onto that glimmer of hope? Will you put your whole trust in God rather than living in fear?

 Hope is the bird that sings in our souls before the light of day. Hope is the anchor under our seesaw that tips our lives from fear into faith. Hope rests in the hands of God, who is always faithful. Believe in the good news of the gospel of Mark; for Jesus will heal us and our faith in God will make us well. Amen.


Wednesday, June 23, 2021

Flame-dancing Spirit

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Flame-dancing Spirit

Flame-dancing Spirit, come,

Sweep us off our feet and

Dance with us through our days.

Surprise us with your rhythms;

Dare us to try new steps, explore

New patterns and new partnerships;

Release us from old routines

To swing in abandoned joy and

Fearful adventure. And

In the intervals,

Rest us

In your still centre. Amen.

Janet Morley in The St. Hilda Community, Women Included


        I love this meditation by Janet Morley for many reasons. I am not a dancer. In fact, at weddings, when everyone piles onto the floor and dances to the music, I resist the urge to run to the ladies room or retire to my bed. I have my reasons.

        I like the idea of a flame-dancing Spirit. I can see and feel the Spirit moving within me and all around me, offering “invitations to sweep us off our feet, dance with us through our days, surprise us with its rhymes, dare us to take new steps, explore new patterns and new partnerships, and release us from old routines.” Yep, I’m on it!  Sign me up for #TheBigShift! I’m ready to dance.

        I never thought that I would return to a settled cure in one parish, after feeling called to leave that form of ministry in Connecticut in 2012. Since then I’ve been swept along with the Spirit to Ireland, Spain, Chile, Maryland, New Hampshire and Vermont, before I landed in Massachusetts in 2015. I have delighted in service to God’s mission, inside and outside the walls of any one particular parish. Then COVID 19 changed my life, your life, and our lives! The dance music stopped.

        Like grace, a new invitation came to me recently and unexpectedly. Beginning in September, I will be back on the dance floor, in the pulpit, and at the altar, serving as a part-time associate clergy at Church of the Redeemer in Chestnut Hill. On Sundays, I’ll join their rector, the Rev. Mike Dangelo, as preacher, presider, and celebrant in a place that offers glorious music and a faithful community. Then on Thursdays, I’ll join the women’s Bible study group to talk about this flame-dancing Spirit. I’m ready to dance with them in “abandoned joy.” I’m ready to ground myself in a new way, and rest in the Centre when the music stops.

        But wait, there’s more, said the flame-dancing Spirit. I have another invitation for you - a new and fearful adventure. So I said, “Yes,” again. Recently, I joined the Friends of the Anglican Pilgrim Centre of Santiago, Spain. We hope to help Anglican and other Protestant pilgrims at the end of their journeys on the Camino find a safe and welcoming place, with beds and food for refreshment, a chapel and gardens for spiritual reflection and renewal, where pilgrims will have time to share their experiences. 

        Perhaps in these new, fearful, and joy-filled adventures I will find the meaning of “it” all. Perhaps in this Big Shift I will drop my masks and dance as if no one is watching.

        The Flame-dancing Spirit is alive and well on the dance floor and She’s dancing with you, me, and the Lord of the Dance! 


Saturday, June 5, 2021

Clever Fox

Good-bye Fox, by Mary Oliver

He was lying under a tree, licking up the shade,

Hello again, Fox, I said.

And hello to you too, said Fox, looking up and not bounding away.

You’re not running away? I said.

Well, I’ve heard of your conversation about us. News travels even among foxes, as you might know or not know.

What conversation do you mean?

Some lady said to you, “The hunt is good for the fox.” And you said, “Which fox?”

Yes, I remember. She was huffed.

So you’re okay in my book.

Your book! That was in my book, that’s the difference between us.

Yes, I agree. You fuss over life with your clever words, mulling and chewing on its meaning, while we just live it.

Oh!

Could anyone figure it out, to a finality? So why spend so much time trying. You fuss, we live. 

And he stood, slowly, for he was old now, and ambled away.


Clever Fox, by The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling


Have you ever noticed how certain animals get a bad rap? We hunt the foxes, cheering on the hounds that chase them, as we gallop after them on our sturdy and powerful horses. We bemoan the foxes in our hen houses, who steal the eggs, cutting lives off at the embryo. We do not call them smart or intelligent or clever, just sly. That’s Fox news.


Mary Oliver gets it. Creation and God’s creatures teach us humans how to live. Just this past week our clergy group, recently ordained and the wise old veterans who are their mentors, were invited to write aspirational sentences about our priestly identity. We fussed over our words, how to describe who we are, and what we’re about.


Can anyone figure it out? So why spend so much time fussing over our vocations, where words and the meaning of life are central. Why fuss? Why not just live it? Clever fox!