[Propertalk] 4 Lent a rcl

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

Here's my draft for next Sunday 8 - )

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY  	               			 4th 
SUNDAY IN LENT
1 SAMUEL 16:1-13 							         3rd APRIL, 2011
EPHESIANS 5:8-14                       	                 	                     		 
PSALM 23
JOHN 9:1-41

	The problem with humour is that, once you’ve used it, folk expect it 
every time, and that can be a stretch sometimes. Just ask God!

	Ten days ago I stood at the counter in my favourite tea place in 
Lincoln City. Actually it’s not merely a tea place. Its primary function 
is as a wonderful Antique Mall, and the owners are among my best 
friends. They have such incredible strength and tolerance that they draw 
everyone into their circles, both in terms of shopping or in terms of 
talking and laughing. Everyone is made to feel welcome and of interest 
as soon as they set foot through the door.

	I stood at the counter, then gravitated to a soft chair. Within a 
minute or two a woman pushing a stroller came to sit. The child was 
fussing. He was five months old. She asked him if he was hungry and 
produced a bottle, on which he sucked for a bit. “But really,” she said, 
“really he simply wants attention.”

	Nothing unusual about that, except the woman must have been about 
fifty-five or sixty. She went on to say that she and her husband were 
medical foster parents, and this child had been fed, and changed and all 
that, but that he’d seldom been touched. His parents were kind, full of 
the right ideas, but challenged inasmuch as they simply couldn’t take 
the next step and help the baby become socialised – even on the simplest 
level.

	What an incredible gesture that woman and her husband were making, at 
their age, to show such warmth, and comfort, and patience. Then round 
the corner came two of the couple’s sons, both now formally adopted, 
having been fostered first. They were twelve and ten, and took over the 
care of the five-month old while the mother checked on something.

	THAT’S a family! But what registered with me later is that although I 
was impressed – actually made almost speechless by what the couple were 
doing – although the woman’s manner of being such an incredible human 
being impressed me, it occurred to me later that at least part of what I 
witnessed came from the fact that anyone and everyone is welcome in that 
Antique Mall. And I thought, THAT’S what every Church, every 
congregation, should be like – both the Mall and that woman and her 
husband, AND her children. Open, willing to take chances on who people 
are, with soft chairs, and friendly folk willing to talk to those who 
wish to be talked to, listen to those for whom listening is urgent, just 
making sure safe spaces are available.

	A couple of days later I received an e-mail with this, as the 
designated prayer of the day: “God, we pray for children in foster care. 
Provide them loving families who care for them. May your church also be 
a family for children who lack stability. Amen.” 1

	And the next thing that came into my head is that the prayer came on 
the Feast of Oscar Romero, Archbishop of San Salvador, assassinated at 
the Altar as he prayed over the Bread and the Wine, raising the chalice 
high for all to
see, bringing to God his hopes and desires for all those whom 
individuals and systems abuse.

	The Archbishop was probably voted “least likely to make a stir” by his 
classmates from high school all the way through his graduate studies. He 
was an academic, a bookish man, soft spoken, with a round-bespectacled 
face. He was the safe, compromise choice, thought least likely to get 
the Church engaged with the on-going struggle between classes and 
structures. No doubt the hierarchy prayed that he do nothing to provoke 
too much attention or make demands.

	But God DOES have a sense of humour – and God can never contain it!

	I’ve forgotten exactly what drew Oscar Romero into the stinking mess of 
the disparity between land-owners and peasants, between an 
out-of-control army and the near-homeless who were finally driven to do 
something for their protection – but the Archbishop found that he could 
do nothing else BUT respond to the crushing-out-of-life he saw in the 
country he loved so much.

	What he saw and heard compelled him to say, in November 1979, just four 
months before he and the upraised chalice were smashed to the floor, 
“The church,” he said, “the church is obliged by its evangelical mission 
to demand structural changes that favor the reign of God and a more just 
and comradely way of life. Unjust social structures are the roots of all 
violence and disturbances. … Those who benefit from obsolete structures 
react selfishly to any kind of change.” 2
	Look at the Gospel this morning. I have to ask myself, who are the 
blind? Who are the ones seeking sight? Who are they who cannot or will 
not ask for sight? And where are we in this spiritual equation? Do we 
struggle to bring blind children, and women, and men to the place where 
they may receive their sight? Or do we struggle to refuse to accept that 
the blind can ever see? Or do we squirm a little because we’re caught in 
the middle somewhere between these positions?

NONE are beyond hope – we should be clear about that. Not the neighbours 
who can’t believe that something of power and value can happen in this 
world; not the establishment religious and political leaders; not the 
family members who try to pass the buck and get out from under criticism 
and ostracism; not you and not me. ALL are God’s children.

And THAT’S the problem. If neighbours could be consigned to outer 
darkness; if government could be dismissed with scathing remarks and 
cynical laughter; if I could wish away anyone outside on the sidewalks 
around this building, or you wish me away for going on so long – IF we 
could ignore any one person, or group, then we simply wouldn’t have to 
worry – until, of course, someone else began to look at us and our needs 
as extraneous and too much of a burden. That would be the point at which 
they’d wish us away with a dismissive gesture of hand or mind.

But Jesus’ healing – either on that one particular occasion or on any 
occasion – the healing that Jesus facilitated was offered to everyone, 
It didn’t matter who the person was, where the person worked, to whom 
the person was related, even how the person appeared – Jesus extended 
His hand, looked the person in the eye and brought about transformation. 
The only ones who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be healed were those who said 
that it couldn’t be done – not here, in this building; not now, while 
we’re busy worshipping; not with this person, he’s – well, you fill in 
the blank. It was the ones who tried to limit God’s Love who ended up 
being excluded – no, that’s not right; they excluded themselves.

It can be incredibly difficult to imagine ourselves as agents of 
healing, though. However, we can all take turns welcoming people into 
our space, wherever it is.

I’ve been reading recently about the continuing stress being created by 
unemployment and the discouragement and depression created by an 
inability to get a job interview, never mind another job. What I’m 
finding, though, is that a great number of churches are opening their 
facilities and either doing something directly or simply making their 
space available for people with certain skills to come in and to be 
present to talk to the lonely, and depressed, and under-employed or 
unemployed about how and where they may begin to think about looking for 
something. Giving the person the skill and reinforcing the determination 
to feel useful again can be an incredible gift.

The formerly blind man in the Gospel story couldn’t stop talking about 
it. Maybe some of Jesus’ friends might
have wished he’d shut up, because some of those with whom the man used 
to hang out might start coming over to speak to Jesus too, and they’d 
never know where this might end. If we – you and I – started to talk to 
someone about setting something up here, one day a week, when someone 
would help anyone write a resume; even if we did something as simple as 
gather up a list of places in town where someone might get inexpensive 
but suitable clothing, and a shower to wear under it; what do you think 
we might be able to accomplish – NOT for ourselves – that’s hardly the 
point – but for the people who’re at their wit’s end and need to have 
their sight restored?

	In Lincoln City – I’ve little information about Linn or Benton Counties 
– but in Lincoln City there’s a group called “Project Homeless Connect” 
which has representatives from all sorts of city and county agencies 
gather in one place at one time to offer support and guidance. 
Hair-dressers donate their time; a dental van is brought in from 
Portland; the hospital does basic blood pressure and other health 
checks. Up to sixty different groups present information and help – and, 
both in Newport and in Lincoln City, this goes on in a church facility. 
There are no sermons, no hymns, no prayers – spoken anyway – simply 
hospitality of a space into which people are welcomed.

	I wonder if the folk of these congregations are as open and friendly 
and accepting when they’re doing their so-called “official” things?

	It’s the sort of atmosphere to which my mind returns when I think of 
the woman, the baby, her two young sons, and the Antique Mall in which I 
enjoy a cup of tea and conversation with whoever’s passing through on 
any given day. It never matters whether or not it’s the Sabbath, it 
seems like Church. It IS Church, even as some people DO have to make a 
living by selling – and sharing of themselves to those who need an ear; 
better yet, sharing with those who need their eyes opened.

	And God laughs at the humour of this going on at times least expected 
and places so unthought of. So, if it can happen there – why not in 
Church?

NOTES:
1	Verse and Voice. 24th March, 2011. Published on-line by Sojourners. 
sojourners at sojo.net

2	Archbishop Oscar Romero, November 1979., reported in U.S. Catholic 
http://www.uscatholic.org/culture/social-justice/2009/02/the-church-called-repentance-called-prophesy


Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)
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