Your Faith Has Made You Well

“Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord;

Lord, hear my voice;

let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.” (Psalm 130, v1)

In exile, far from their home in Judah where their temple and sacred way of life had been destroyed by pagans, the Israelites cried out to the Lord - “Lord we are waiting for you to once again rescue us from slavery and oppression. We are waiting for you to save us. We know that you are merciful; we know that if we turn back to you, you will redeem us for our sins. We are waiting for you Lord - waiting more than a watchman for the morning”

How familiar are these thoughts and words written over 2500 years ago in the ancient cities of Babylonia where the Israelites, defeated by Nebuchadnezzar, waited in exile for over 50 years until the Persian King Darius invited them to return to their homeland and rebuild not only their temple but also their way of life of worshipping one god only and adhering to the commandments brought down to them by Moses, years before.

How familiar are these thoughts and words to us and to all Christians today as we struggle with horrific world events, both national and international, that target Christian men, women and children as they go about their day to day life, committed to following the way of Jesus and a life dedicated to love, forgiveness and peace.

Today’s refugees - exiled - just like the ancient Israelites. Today’s people in exile praying daily to God,  “Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.”

I have to believe that no matter how terrified, how despondent, how lost in darkness those who live in exile must certainly be - no matter what their circumstance or frame of mind - I have to believe that all of these people have faith - faith that God - the Lord - will hear their cries and will redeem their souls. 

Perhaps, I believe this only to heal my own pain as I consider the mass pain of the Christian world, but I do believe it. I believe that as we face exile - no matter what sort of exile, literal or figurative - God sees us and knows us. God is with us as we face anxiety, depression, fear, discomfort, tremendous personal loss, and in many cases, death. I believe that not only is God with us, but that if only we reach out to him, the terror of our personal exile will become bearable, and a new way to walk forward in life with courage and hope - with faith - will become evident.

In today’s Gospel story we hear about two such examples of faith. The women who has suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years, and Jairus whose daughter was ill and on the brink of death. Both are suffering. One from a prolonged and physically, as well as financially, draining illness. The other from the very real prospect of the unimaginable - loosing a child. Both are in a state of exhaustion, anxiety, and darkness. Both intuitively know that if they reach out to Jesus, he will somehow salvage the situation in which they find themselves. Both take risks in forging the crowds of people in which they find themselves and in imagining that Jesus will actually have time for them.

The chronically ill woman, trailing after Jesus as he walked through the crowd, finally was able to grasp a piece of his robe - immediately her hemorrhaging stopped. Sensing someone had touched his clothing Jesus turned to look at the women. In fear and trembling she fell before him, confessing that it had been she who reached out to him. He said to her, “Daughter your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

Your faith has made you well….

Because of the woman, Jesus was delayed in reaching Jairus’ daughter. Seemingly, in these few brief moments of delay, the child died. Jesus was advised by the crowd that it would not be worth his while to visit Jairus’ daughter who had already died, but Jesus looked around at the crowd and said, “why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” Jesus continued on with Jairus and his wife, they entered the home, Jesus spoke to the child, and she was healed.

The child’s parents followed Jesus in patience and with faith in his ability to heal.

Being in exile is not always a physical upheaval from one’s home. There are so many different ways in which we as creatures in this unstable and turbulent world experience exile. Exile is all about being separated - separated from what ever we hold near and dear - separated from God. Exile is all about living in fear and darkness.

Coming out of exile is not always a return to the home or state of being from which we were separated. Coming out of exile can mean that we enter a whole new way of life - one that we might not necessarily have chosen for ourselves.

Surviving exile is staying close to God. Reaching out to touch his presence in ourselves and in those around us. 

Surviving exile is having patience and following Jesus as he guides us through the steps of loving, forgiving and finding a new way to see how we might survive.

Surviving exile is allowing the power of the Holy Spirit to inspire us in ways we cannot imagine, and allowing the Holy Spirit to give us the courage to do the unimaginable for ourselves and for others.

Surviving exile is ensuring that we are all members of one body - the body of Christ - and that as that one body, we are working, as Walter Brueggemann would say, “for the good of the neighborhood.”

Surviving exile is all about having faith.

Peace be with you.

Stormy Seas

My father was a typical Italian man. He was an opera singer; he loved fast cars; and, he loved flashy speedboats. Some of my most vivid childhood memories are of attending the annual car show in New York City where we would spend hours getting in and out of the flashiest cars on the floor, and of pounding across Long Island Sound regardless of weather predictions in our newest Chris Craft motorboat. It was all great fun, very exciting, and not infrequently a bit terrifying as we tore up and down the Hutchinson River and Merritt Parkways or raced black clouds that forewarned thunder storms and the unexpectedly strong currents and rolling waves so typical of Long Island Sound.

But for my father, the speedboat memories were not all good. In early 1942 it was his flashy speedboat outfitted with a ship to shore radio that landed him in the prison camp at Ellis Island for three months.

On that grim day in early 1942, the FBI appeared at our Westchester County home and presented my father with an arrest warrant that named him as a agent for Mussolini, and perhaps Hitler. The agents claimed that he had been using his ship to shore radio to send messages to the enemy. Within a few brief moments he was in an FBI manned vehicle and transported to Ellis Island where he was held in a communal cell, with no ability to communicate with the outside world for over three months.

His career at an ignominious halt, estranged from family and friends, and packed into an overcrowded cell with only two open toilets, my father was trapped in that terrifying no man’s land of not knowing what his future held.

Still an Italian citizen, he did not know if he would be allowed to stay in America. He did not know whether if he would ever see his family again. He did not know whether or not he could survive the loneliness and the isolation. He was a stranger in a no man’s land. He was in darkness, and could not find the light.

I tell this story today, World Refugee Sunday, to underscore the devastating darkness and terror that fills the world of refugees who live in exile with no assurance that they will ever return home, and the reality that refugees are not only “over there,” somewhere else in a far and distant country. Refugees are not only people who speak different languages or have skin color other than white. Refugees are not always unknown to us.

Refugees are everywhere. They are even members of our own families.

Yesterday, refugees and their supporters across the globe observed the 15^th annual World Refugee Day. The United Nations General Assembly established June 20 as World Refugee Day to recognize and applaud the

contribution of refugees throughout the world and to raise awareness about the growing refugee crisis. The numbers are staggering:

          There are currently more than 51.2 million refugees – the largest number since World War II.

         

          In just the past four years, nearly 4 million Syrians have fled the violence in their country, finding shelter in neighboring countries including Lebanon, Turkey, Jordan, and Egypt.

          Last year at the height of the border crisis in the Lower Rio Grande Valley the number of unaccompanied minors taken into custody by the Border Patrol at the U.S.-Mexico border reached a peak of 10,622 in June. Apprehensions of family units followed a similar trajectory, cresting at more than 16,329.

          As of August 31, for the fiscal year that began October 1, 2013, Border Patrol agents had apprehended 66,127 unaccompanied minors and 66,142 family units, the vast majority from Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Compared to the same 11-month period last year, family unit arrivals have surged by 412 percent, unaccompanied minors arrivals by 88 percent.

          These children, and by now many more, all refugees who fled from the terrorism and violence of the South American drug cartels, have been resettled throughout America - some to distant relatives; some to group homes.

Refugees are everywhere. They are even members of our own communities.

For the past 75 years, the Episcopal Church, working in collaboration with Episcopal Migration Ministries and its network of affiliate offices, has helped refugees find safety, security, and hope in the United States. This weekend, Episcopal churches throughout the United States will hold events to honor and welcome refugees and to commemorate the thousands of refugees who were unsuccessful in their attempts to flee the racism, terrorism and violence of oppressive regimes and the brutal outcome of ethnic cleansing that continues to be a part of our world order.

All of these events have as an end goal awareness. Awareness of the darkness that surrounds the life of each and every refugee. Awareness of the need to bring light into that darkness. Awareness of the reality that in our various roles as disciples of Christ, and as members of our mother

organization, the Episcopal Church in the United States, we are called to bring the light of Christ to those in darkness - in this instance to refugees.

The good news of course is that Christ is always there for us - all of us - even refugees. Even when we are in the deepest of all darkness - Christ is there - in us and with us.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus  encourages his disciples to join him in a small boat in order to cross the Sea of Galilee. As frequently happens in that area, a sudden storm brings heavy winds and high seas. In the midst of the raging storm the fragile boat begins to take on water. The disciples are terrified but Jesus remains, improbably, peacefully asleep, his head on a cushion.

The disciples  cannot believe that Jesus is not awakened by the rocking boat and heavy winds. They cannot believe that in the midst of such imminent peril and chaos Jesus is not awake and caring for them. With trembling voices the disciples loudly ask, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

I am sure that we all have asked similar questions of God when the seas of our own lives have become incredibly perilous and chaotic. When the going gets rough, we all want to know if God really cares - if he is going to be there for us - or, is he asleep, unaware of our terrifying situation. How many

times have we silently cried out, “God, please help me - I am so frightened - so overwhelmed.”

In preaching on this text, Augustine of Hippo challenged his audience by saying that when we are buffeted by the storms of life, one has to wake the

Christ within us in order to find peace. Augustine wrote, “A situation arises: it is the wind. It disturbs you: it is the surging sea. This is the moment to awaken the Christ within you and let him remind you of these words: “Peace! Be still!” “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Refugees, violently displaced by oppression, terrorism and extreme violence are caught up in their own very real storm. The darkness of their storm can be overwhelming; the light of returning home a dim shadow in the far distance. To quote my father’s deepest despair while interred at Ellis Island, “I no longer felt human; I was lost and did not know who I was anymore.”

The question for us is how can we be the voices that calm the storm. How can we awaken the Christ within those who are strangers in a foreign land; men, women and children without a home; lost in darkness and terrified.

How can we, as individuals, and as a church, bring the Light of Christ to those who have lost all hope and live in despair. How can we restore hope and faith to those who have lost all hope - to those who no longer have any faith.

When my father was finally released from Ellis Island he believed that his career was over and that his family would probably abandon him. For several months he continued in depression and despair. It was the love and encouragement of his friends and colleagues in the music world who restored his hope and his faith. It was these same friends and colleagues who ensured that his schedule for the upcoming year was filled with concert dates and opera performances. Eagerly they reached out to him in friendship, love and acceptance, and slowly the darkness faded away, leaving plenty of room for light, and as he often said, “Time to give thanks to God.”

A place to belong, filled with love and acceptance, compassion and support - a chance to be human again - that is what we as disciples of Christ have to offer to not only refugees but also to all who are in the wildly rocking boat and believe that Jesus is asleep. It is through the love of Christ offered through us and by us that will awaken the Light of Christ in others. It is through the love of Christ offered through us and by us that faith and hope may be restored to those who live in utter despair.

This World Refugee Day, let us remember in prayer all who flee persecution and suffering in search of security and peace, let us remember our baptismal promise to strive for justice and peace, and let us reaffirm our commitment to welcoming the stranger as Christ himself.

Gracious and Loving God, may we recognize that you bind us together in common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles for justice, truth, and healing to confront the evils of racism, oppression and violence that pervade the United States and the world. AMEN