[Propertalk] Draft

[Robert Cook]

Well said--thank you -Bob C
 
“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” 
 Joseph Campbell 



________________________________
 From: "robertpmorrison at charter.net" <robertpmorrison at charter.net>
To: Propertalk <propertalk at stsams.org> 
Sent: Friday, December 14, 2012 4:39 PM
Subject: [Propertalk] Draft
 
This has been changed and edited as news of the CT school killings came in, and will go through revisions, I'm sure, before Sunday morning, but I thought I'd send along my thoughts as of now ..

Prayers for all!

Bob


THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY                               THE THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT (c)
ZEPHANIAH 3:14-20                                             16th DECEMBER, 2012
PHILIPPIANS 4:4-7                                                                          CANTICLE 9
LUKE 3:7-18

    Very few can be unaware of what happened at Clackamas on Tuesday afternoon.  It’s one of those shocking events that draw us up short, and when it happens on one’s own doorstep it’s all the more distressing and disturbing. On top of that, as I was working on the sermon, came the news of the shooting at the Elementary School in Newton, Connecticut.

    I don’t know which emotion comes into play most – horror, anger, frustration, incredible sadness – for everyone involved. It seems as if some people are grabbing our emotions and wringing them to breaking point. We hardly know where to turn. We don’t want to look at or listen the news for fear of something else being reported, some sign of personalities snapping, of a seeming break from all that is decent, and just, and honouring of the sacredness of life.

    A friend’s e-mail told of how she felt after the destruction of the World Trade Center towers. “I remember on 9-11 that I kept saying to myself, ‘Where is God in all of this, where is God in all of this?’ It was a deep repetitive groaning. Maybe the fifth or sixth time I asked, ‘Where is God in all of this?’ it became a question asked and answered. ‘Where is God?’ ‘In all of this.’ I am not sure I ever felt the presence of the Spirit more intensely than when she answered my groaning prayer that day.

    Whatever happened last week will, unfortunately, happen again. Maybe this is part of what the Apostle Paul meant when he referred to the whole of creation groaning. Everyone, I imagine, sucked in her and his collective breaths on Tuesday and Friday, and tears came unbidden to their eyes.

    One of my first thoughts was of the store owners and the teachers whom I know; and, sometimes not remembered in the same instant, the emergency responders – law enforcement, fire department, ambulance crews – all those whose job it is to enter into the black places of life for the safety of others. And I found myself praying for those whom I know, even if they weren’t in Clackamas or Newton, praying for their safety, giving thanks for their service, remembering their families.

    We’re all bound together by what happened – whether it was in this State, or across the country, or half way across the world. ALL such tragedies chill us, perhaps because we have difficulty coming to be able to say that God is in all of this; perhaps we feel helplessness because we don’t know what we can do in the face of the fact that life is filled with danger and disaster, often completely beyond our control.

    Not to belittle it in any way, but the terrible tragedy aside, I suggest that it may help to think about this.

    One thing really impressed me about the situation here in Oregon. Two things – well, probably more. The 911 call went out and within sixty seconds, the first emergency responders – it was one of the law enforcement agencies – were there. Sixty seconds, with no warning, no premonition that something was going to be happen, some law enforcement officers were right there.

    Last week I mentioned “God winks”, little signs that God has something to tell us which will help our living situation. God also has a way of trying to get people to be right there to hear something, to see something, to do something, right as it’s needed, or pretty close to it.

    Does this work every time? Of course not – we know of people who’ve been in pain and not had anyone show to help for what seems like an eternity. But there ARE those inexplicable occasions when someone who has the ability to make a difference IS almost on top of it. I’ve been engaged in some of these, and we get to the point of almost taking it for granted. Yet a person IS present when needed.

    The second thing that impressed me, besides the almost instant appearance of law enforcement officers, was the fact that the Mall’s administrative staff, the store owners, everyone involved there, had participated in thorough classes and discussions to deal with precisely this sort of an event. They’d been trained, and, more importantly, they’d listened to folk tell what possible scenarios might look like. They seemed to have run things often enough that when the horrible challenge of Tuesday afternoon presented itself they were able to respond to ameliorate the crisis.

    As soon as the tragedy hit, the responders and the employees, and the shoppers, rushed people outside or into the backs of stores and under counters, where strangers became acquaintances very quickly, and folk helped one another survive the hours of waiting till they got word that it was safe to come outside.

    Once again, it was a matter of knowing how to respond – how to react with a stranger, how to deal with one’s own feelings, how to deal with danger and challenge.

    I pray none of us will be exposed to anything as critical as what happened last Tuesday or Friday, but we ALL have to face times of difficulty, in which much is asked of us. We have to hope and pray that we’re up to that challenge. But, in addition, what I hope and pray is that I’ll be there for someone else, I’ll be able to encourage them, pull them to safety out of crushing experiences in life; help them find their way through events that pressure them and threaten to squeeze life, and joy, and meaning out of them. It’s in times like these – not just Clackamas and Newton-type events – but hospitalisations, news of friends going through crises, people stuck and unsure how, or when, or why to act; people who’re trying to repair relationships, or make a break from situations that are being destructive – I hope and pray that I’ll be able to respond, just as those trained officials, and store workers, and administrative staff were
 able to do for the reported ten thousand in the Mall at the time of the shooting.

    These people were able to react because they’d thought of at least some of the possibilities, and they’d prepared themselves. And I, I hope, I am enabled to play a little part in the lives of some because I know that there are people looking out for me – for instance, by the e-mail I received from a special friend on the East Coast, who wrote, “I hope you know that since hearing the news of the shooting in Portland that you have held a firm place in my prayers.”

    It’s been experienced time and time again that when disasters hit, all sorts of new communities are formed, and the vast majority of people work to establish something like a family in which we can feel safe, no matter what’s going on outside. It may be prayers; it may be e-mails; it may be phone calls; it may be people stopping on the street, asking, “How you are, what can I do to help?” Community does that for people. It makes the needs, and longings, and loves of one person one’s own, in order to help protect, to heal, to nourish the other – as the first responders and staff did when they shoved people through the doors, and under the counters, and into store rooms.

    I hope I can do that for others.

    I, along with everyone else, can do that much more efficiently, more lovingly, if I’ve had some preparatory thoughts about how to respond.

    John the Baptist is such an amazing figure. We’ve probably tried to clean up the dirty, rough edges of him and his clothes, not mention where he ate.

    If we’d been part of the populace of Jerusalem and its surrounds back then we might not have looked forward to his appearance. Just as today, if we hadn’t noticed before, we may not have been thrilled to have heard the Gospel read to us. I can imagine many – including myself! – say “Oh, NO! Not John again!!” We may think that he’s the greatest pain we’ve encountered for ages. We may wonder why stories of his exploits and speeches seem to stand at the gateway to God’s encounter with us in the Person of Jesus – until we think about what he was trying to do; whom he was trying to reach.

    John didn’t have a limited view on things. He wanted to reach everyone, He didn’t care about social standings or economic categorisations. He didn’t even care whether or folk were religious. His job was to make sure that the greatest number of people possible were trained to take seriously the job of being prepared to face whatever emergency might come along. He wanted them to make their trust in God and their devotion to God second nature.

    He knew what it was like to be under threat of danger, or rejection, or isolation. He knew what being separated from family and friends was all about. He knew how it felt when people attempted to demean others, or even take their lives away. Not only did he know, but he wanted to help people to be alert to everything which could harm them. He didn’t know what pressures might befall his listeners – or us – but he knew that we’d often have an uphill battle, that we’d be exposed to many things which might not only endanger ourselves – our souls and bodies – but also our loved ones, as well our neighbours, and the folk across the country and the world. It was John’s burning passion to ensure the no one would be unaware of how to prepare for any occasion when we faced difficulty, and also be prepared to accept the most powerful help, and assurance, and love imaginable.

    You might call John the ultimate Risk Management expert. He knew what land mines lay ahead for people and, frankly, he was infuriated at the folk who wouldn’t listen; who thought he was talking to everyone else but them; who’d go on their own merry way, regardless of how it affected themselves and those around them; go on their merry way perhaps until it was too late. John treated his job – remember how Zechariah described him as he looked down on his infant son? “You are the dayspring from on high”, the guide sent from heaven to warn of approaching important decisions; the escort who could accompany us into the presence of God on earth, but could only hope that we’d be ready, ready for every challenge.

Nothing can take away the shock of last week. Nothing may really prepare us for that punch in the stomach when some other act of horror is perpetrated.

But John – and this Season of Advent – remind us of God’s presence, of God’s love, of God’s incredible compassion. John calls us once again this morning to be ready to act, to do whatever we can, to remember the urgency of knowing that God IS present, and will ALWAYS be present, and of how we’re called to act for God wherever and whenever we can.

We can’t hide ourselves from those acts of terror. Nor should we hide ourselves from the call to be ready to respond. But we must never forget those thousand upon thousands who are there for us, to support us, to help us in our ministry, as we need to be there for them in whatever pains they bear.

Our cry should NOT be, Oh, NO! Not John again!!” but, “Where is God? In ALL of this!”



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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