Sermon
Sunday, August 25, 2013
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church,
Delray Beach, FL
Luke 13:10-17
In the late 1980s I was privileged to work
with a group of advocates who had formed an organization called AIDS-Related
Community Services. The organization, nicknamed ARCS, was formed in response to
a mysterious new disease that had emerged out of nowhere and was of unknown
origin. At that point in time this disease had no real name other than Human
Immunodeficiency Virus, or (HIV). HIV was virulent and fatal. It was
accompanied by painful and disfiguring symptoms. It was prevalent among gay
men, the homeless and people addicted to injectable drugs, and it was spreading
among those populations like wildfire.
In those days, HIV patients were not welcome
in doctor’s offices or dentist’s offices. They were not welcome at their place
of employment, or in public spaces. In those days HIV patients were viewed as
lepers. They quickly became outcasts. It was safest to not even acknowledge the
existence of those who had fallen victim to this frightening affliction. They
were very sick, they were dying very painfully and very quickly, and they were
very alone.
ARCS was engaged in a variety of community
activities. There was training of “buddies” to walk with the dying through
their last months or weeks. There was community education – an effort to
destigmatize HIV. There was fundraising – to support buddies, community
education and other projects. And, there was advocacy – an effort to strongly –
very strongly - encourage state and national lawmakers to develop legislation
that would earmark funds to care for and begin medical research on behalf of
this growing population of terribly sick people.
The ARCS advocacy initiative, working in
collaboration with the Gay Men’s Health Crisis and Mayor Lindsay’s office, was
directly responsible for the development and passage of the Ryan White CARE Act,
the largest federally funded program in the United States for people
living with HIV/AIDS. The CARE Act was passed in August of 1990. In 1991, the
first year of the Ryan White HIV/AIDS Program, the Federal budget appropriation
was $220.6 million. In FY 2010, it had grown to $2.29 billion. The program is
once again up for re-authorization this year.
With all this activity at ARCS, a fairly
large staff was in place. But despite the size of the staff, more hands were
needed – volunteer hands. One of the volunteer recruitment sites was a halfway
house for men and women living with HIV. For the most part the residents in the
house were homeless men who had been substance abusers.
And, so it was that Roy came into my life.
Roy was assigned to me when I requested help
with stuffing invitations and labeling envelopes for a major fund raising
event. He arrived one morning at about 10 o’cloc. He was on crutches. He was
disheveled. He seemed confused and frightened. In an anxious voice he confided
that if he did not do the volunteer work assigned to him, he would be asked to
leave the residence and would, once again, be on the street. He also confided
that he did not know what volunteer work was.
Roy was very weak and in the end stages of
Kaposi’s Sarcoma. He had gigantic bandaged lesions on his legs. His ankles were
terribly swollen, the skin cracked. He stated that his feet hurt badly and he
could barely walk. He had lost the sight in one eye and had numerous scars and
telltale traces of a life of drug addiction and alcoholism. (Remnants of a life
lived on the streets.) It seemed to me, and my fellow staff members, that Roy
was about 50 years old.
That first day, I asked Roy to sit with me
and to tell me a bit about himself. Roy seemed uncomfortable with that
prospect. He stated that he was ashamed of himself, and that he was embarrassed
by how he looked and the things he had done in his life that had caused him to
become infected with HIV. I encouraged him to tell me more, saying that we
welcomed all the residents of the halfway house at ARCS – we wanted them to see
us as their family. When I mentioned family, he looked at me in wonder and told
me that he had never had a family.
Roy’s thoughts and memories were continually confused
perhaps because of the Kaposi’s Sarcoma; perhaps because of the many years of
substance abuse. However, the brief history of his life that he gave described
a life of loneliness and suffering. A life spent alone and hungry. A life lived
on the streets that began at the age of about seven after the violent deaths of
both his parents.
That first day, Roy insisted that he was not
good enough to do volunteer work. He wanted to return to the halfway house. He said,
not so boldly,
“If they want to kick me out, they can go ahead
and do it.” I urged Roy to reconsider overnight. I told him that I hoped to see
him in the morning. I emphasized that I really needed his help to get a job
done and that I knew he could give me that help. I touched his arm and asked if
I could give him a hug.
Roy left. The next morning he returned and we
began stuffing envelopes.
Roy was always quite weak. He could not
tolerate being in a sitting position for more than two or three hours. However,
as the days progressed, a Roy emerged that was both childlike and loving. He
had a wonderful sense of humor and a passion for gentleness. As he stuffed, he
would watch the comings and goings of staff and volunteers, questioning me
about their role at the agency. During his second week with us, he decided take
little breaks and walk around, sometimes stopping to help others. He became
especially fond of the Xerox machine and loved making copies for everyone in the
education department.
During the last day of our project, Roy
seemed weaker than usual. His ankles and feet were so swollen that he could not
wear his shoes. He was unfocused and slightly disoriented. I asked him what he
thought was happening. He said that he guessed he was “getting bad like the
others just before they die.” Then, he said, “You know, this is a nice place. I
like it here. I feel so good - like it’s my family.” I said, “It is your family
Roy.”
The next day Roy was admitted to the hospital
where he died several days later. Many of us went to his funeral. We learned
that at the time of his death Roy was 27 years old.
After Roy’s funeral, as was our custom after
every death, we sat around and reviewed our memories of Roy. We all thanked God
for using us as vehicles to reach out and touch Roy – for blessing us with the
opportunity to let Roy know that he was loved and valued for who he was - one
of God’s children.
Roy’s Good News – being touched by God - is our
Good News. In today’s readings Jeremiah, the Psalmist and Luke all describe
God’s hand reaching out and touching us, anointing us; making us his – all of
us.
Tertullian in his Treatise, “On the Soul,”
says of Jeremiah. “Read the word of God that was spoken to Jeremiah. ‘Before I formed you in the womb, I knew
you.’ God not only forms us in the womb; he also breathes on us as he did
at the first creation, when ‘the Lord God
formed man and breathed into him the breath of life.’ And God declares to
Jeremiah, ‘And before you came forth out
of the womb, I sanctified you.’” (On the Soul 26)
God is our creator. He breathes the Spirit of
life into us - even in the womb. He is with us from the outset. At the first
moment of life he anoints us as his own. We are his forever. He loves us always
and yearns for our well-being.
The early Christian theologian and church
father Origen writes, “We forget that the words ‘Let us make man according to our image and according to our likeness’
apply to each person. When we fail to remember the one who formed a person in
the womb, and formed all people’s hearts individually and understands all their
works, we do not perceive that God is a helper of those who are lowly and
inferior, a protector of the weak, a provider of shelter of those who have been
given up in despair and Savior of those who have been given up as hopeless.” (Commentary
on the Gospel of John 13.167-68)
God reaches out and touches us all – each and every one of
us. His love transcends all human judgment. The scope of his compassion is
beyond comprehension.
In Psalm 71 David declares his confidence that he is forever
able to turn to the Lord for help. No need to be ashamed of slip ups and
failures. God is with us always as a “strong
rock, a castle to keep us safe, a crag and a stronghold.” God is our hope
and our sustainer always and forever.
David sings out, “I
have been sustained by you ever since I was born; from my mother’s womb you
have been my strength.” (Psalm 71:1-6)
What an incredibly powerful image – God our
creator; knowing, loving and anointing us, giving us strength as we grow in our
mother’s womb. We are made in his image. We are his and he is in us. He knew us
from the beginning of time, and he is always there for us – always there to
wipe away the tears of life - always there for us as a protector; a way to
refuge, safety, solace, healing and peace.
In today’s reading from Luke, Jesus enters a
synagogue to preach. Tucked away in a corner, isolated and alone, he sees an
elderly woman. She is bent over – bent in on herself, a victim of some
crippling disease. The old woman has been cast aside by her peers. They believe
that she must have done something evil. Her affliction is just punishment for
her sinful behavior. She must be shunned, pushed into a corner, in order for
others to remain pure.
Jesus, ignoring the crowd who had come to
hear him teach, turns away from them and faces her. He calls out to her, and asks her to come
forward. Then, he “laid hands on the
crippled woman, immediately she stood up and began praising God.”
Immediately, Jesus’ compassionate actions kindled
the light of God that dwelled deep within the old woman - a light that had not yet gone out, but had indeed
become a distinctly fading ember. This elderly woman who for years had been an
object of contempt and social rejection – just like Roy – was, with just a few
words of compassion from Jesus, freed of her crippling burden. One simple
gesture of compassion and the Spirit of her Creator brought light into her
life, and infused her with hope, comfort and freedom from years of isolation
and suffering.
As we see the scene in our mind’s eye, we
imagine the crowd’s reaction as she sings out, “I am God’s child – he is in me
and with me – through him I have my being. I am loved. Praise be to God. I am
in the Kingdom of God here on earth.
For the bent woman, for Roy and for all of us
- today and every day - God is in us and with us. In Him
we live and move and have our being. Through him we are healed and we are able
to heal. By His grace made manifest in all of humanity innocent souls are
protected; bent souls are healed; and lost souls are found. This my friends is
indeed Good News. AMEN.
