The Priests of Haiti

 

The Priests of Haiti

"We are alive, but we are still fighting for [our] life. Even though the situation is very, very difficult, we continue to work very hard. Perhaps another time I might have more to say to you, but for now the shaking continues. The buildings shake. The shaking is everyplace. That is why it is difficult to stay in one place. Right now, I stay under this tree. My bed and my car stay here. But God knows everything. We always, always have hope. The situation in Haiti should be changed. I don't know how long, but we [can]not continue, continue the life like that. It is not a human life. I think it is very difficult…but we continue to work. We continue to pray…we are all one in Jesus Christ." Jean Berthold Phanord, Episcopal Priest, Bondeau, Haiti. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pr6XTeQjOMw

I first traveled to Haiti in 1999. It was a spur of the moment trip. I was working in Palm Beach County as the HIV/AIDS clinical program manager and was increasingly curious about the Haitian culture and Haitian attitudes regarding healthcare. One afternoon I said to my husband, "I need to go to Haiti", and literally overnight, I found a group that was headed there the following week. I booked my flight, met them at the airport, and was in Haiti the following Thursday afternoon. 

As our plane sped down the runway for the brief 90-minute flight to Port au Prince, the tiny nation's capital, I was blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen to me. To say that I fell in love with Haiti would be doing an injustice to the complex feelings that welled in my heart and in my head throughout five brief days of meeting, visiting, and caring for countless souls -all of whom welcomed us with open arms, loving hearts, and incredible hospitality. 

I returned home stunned by all that I had encountered – the crowds, the poverty, the lack of infrastructure, the absence of medical care…the list went on and on. And yet, despite conditions in what was most clearly a "third world" country, a people so vibrant, so talented, and so in love with God. Perhaps to say that I fell in love with Haiti would be far too simplistic. Perhaps, more accurately, I could say that Haiti entered my soul, and it has never left.

I write this little piece two weeks following the devastating 7.2 earthquake Haiti experienced on August 18, 2021, only 11 years after the 2010 7.0 earthquake that leveled much of Port au Prince and Leogane, Haiti's two largest cities. Although political unrest and Covid 19 have prevented me from traveling to Haiti since the fall of 2019, I have not ceased to care deeply for the many friendships and projects that were an integral part of my life for 20 years. And so, uppermost in my mind and central to my prayer life these days are these relationships and projects.

And, while I pray for all of Haiti, today it strikes me that it is the priests of Haiti - men and women whose commitment to their vocation is without parallel – for whom I am the most concerned as I write this brief reflection.

Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians writes, "Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Eph 6:13-17) 

I do not believe that one can know or understand the life of a Haitian priest without having had the honor and the opportunity to work closely with them over an extended period of time. To be embedded among them if you will. I was so blessed with that opportunity and today as I read Pere Phanord's comments and I await word from my good friend Pere Kesner Ajax I find myself overwhelmed with grief as I think of the grief and trauma that these souls have endured over the years and their commitment to never question God, but rather to always, with the armor of God, to live in hope and faith.

I remember Pere Kesner who several weeks after the 2010 earthquake stood beside me at the collapsed cathedral in Port au Prince. He was pointing to a small cross in what appeared to be a newly cleared area beside the rubble of the cathedral. He said, so quietly, "This cross is for the children who died here. I listened to them crying for help, but we could not reach them." (Personal communication) I take a look a Pere Kesner's Facebook page this morning and watch him in a series of photos standing straight and strong as he hands out food and water to hundreds amidst the rubble of Les Cayes, his home, a smile on his face and I would bet love in his heart.

Pere Phanord sent out a short video this morning, the opening quote above is extracted from his recorded comments. In the video he is seated in a plastic chair under a tree, his car behind him. His entire community, including his house, is now rubble. Many people have died. There is no food or water. They are miles from anywhere that might offer significant help. Yet he continues to hold services to which many people flock, in the hope that God will bring relief to a life that, as Pere Phanord says, "is not human." 

It is clear from the video that Pere Phanord is not well. He is struggling to breath. Perhaps he had Covid and is suffering aftereffects. I will have to ask him when we next communicate. But despite it all, there he is in his collar, ministering to his flock and advocating for their needs. 

Paul encourages us to be warriors in a battle to remain steadfast in our love of Christ. I can think of no greater example of what these warriors might look like other than the priests of Haiti. Let us keep them in our prayers.

 

 

 

Promises...

 

SERMON

August 15, 2021

St. Simon's on the Sound -John 6:51-58

In reading today's lectionary passages from both Ephesians and John I was reminded of a colleague of mine and his emphasis on the critical, but complex, vows taken during a marriage ceremony.

 I know that may sound a bit strange, but bear with me.

My colleague, once a priest and now a bishop, has, of course, performed many marriages and always using the Celebration and Blessing of a Marriage liturgy found in our Book of Common Prayer. Obviously, performing marriages is a normal and usual part of a priest's daily life. However, the unusual aspect of my colleague's marriage ceremonies is that in each and every homily he focuses on one particular phrase in the prayer offered by the celebrant directly after the Vows of Consent, "O Gracious and everliving God…. assist them with your grace, that with true fidelity and steadfast love, they may honor and keep the promises and vows that they make…" (BCP, 425)

My colleague's emphasis is always on the word "promises." The focus of his wedding day homilies always centers on that one word as he reminds the newlyweds that their promise to love each other will span the course of each and every day of the many years that they will spend together. With compassion but authority he urges them to consider that looking forward they have no way of knowing what this promise to love each other made now in these few moments of joy and excitement would entail as time passes. The future was not theirs, or ours, to know.

Each time I listened to the homily I was struck by its deep, multilayered truth. My own marriage, I am quite sure just like most marriages, began in a flight of love and excitement. As I repeated my vows, following the priest's prompting, the word "promise" did not in any way stick out as something to seriously consider. Of course, I promised to love my new husband. I loved him, didn't I?

Well, everything was fine and dandy back in 1980 when we married. Who could know what the ensuing years would bring and how that word "promise" would more and more become a word to seriously keep in mind and reflect on as our lives together went through some significant ups and downs. In the end, it was this one simple but yet complex word that was the word that not only gave me direction, but also comfort. I had made a promise to love my husband before God – God was both my witness and my partner in this promise and therefore, my stronghold, in every sense of the word.

Paul's words to the Ephesians today were spot on, "Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people…do not be foolish…understand what the will of the Lord is…be filled with the Spirit." (Eph 5:15-20) Increasingly, as the years flew by, I understood that within the context of my wedding promises I had a mandate to "understand the will of the Lord." The meaning of the word "promise" took on a sacred nature. It was not to be defiled.

I bring these thoughts on promises up because I was struck by the fact that in today's gospel passage Jesus, being heckled by the crowd and questioned as to the validity of his words, his authority, takes a stance not of defensively giving directives, but of compassionately offering promises. His complex message about bread has many layers, but its essence is one of promise. A promise of life lived under the protective wings of a love that only God can give us.

Jesus describes himself as the living bread – the lifegiving bread from heaven. He promises that "Whoever eats of this bread will live forever." He goes on in his dialogue to promise, "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." He concludes by promising, "…the one who eats this bread will live forever." Jesus makes no demands. He imposes no conditions. Jesus simply promises the way to a life lived as a child of God.

However, the promises if they are to be realized, point to a way of action. We are to eat and drink – to consume. We are to incorporate this bread of life, this gift of Jesus into our beings. If we are to live as beloved children of God, we must incorporate Jesus, the bread from heaven that God has given us, into the fabric of our lives. We must experience Jesus as the essential and ultimate guidepost to our very way of being.

This passage of course predates the Last Supper as it is described later in John's gospel, but it is most certainly a foretaste of the Eucharist that is, and always has been, central to our liturgy. The language of all our Eucharistic prayers is lifted directly from these passages in John.  

However, the Eucharistic prayers as we know them are centered not only on Christ and the sanctification of the bread and wine to be for God's people the Body and Blood of his Son, the holy food of new and unending life in him. The prayers are also focused on sanctifying us that we may faithfully receive the holy Sacraments, and serve God in unity, constancy, and peace. This is the part where we promise. Promise that as we consume the holy food from heaven, we open our hearts, our minds, and our souls and allow Jesus to become the core, the essence of our very being.

At the Eucharistic table we enter into a partnership of promise with God. We actively receive the gift of his Son as our savior, our bread from heaven, as the promise of our salvation and we give our promise to take this sacred bread and wine as sustenance to fuel our promise to serve him as we go into the world seeking to heal its brokenness.

Walter Brueggemann, as usual, has something to say on this subject. He offers this brief thought, “To participate in the Eucharist is to live inside God’s imagination. It is to be caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ.”

By accepting Jesus’ promises and offering our own promises in response we are "caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ."

These are difficult times – really, really difficult times. As I wrote this homily, I thought back to just a few short weeks ago when we were all un-masked, the cup was offered in addition to the bread at the Eucharist, and coffee hour was in full swing. Now, as a result of the Delta variant and a surge in new covid cases, we have been asked, wisely, by our bishop to return to the previous protocol of masks indoors, no coffee hour, etc. That brief time of little or no worry about the pandemic seems more like a dream than a reality.

Certainly, a dream at least on hold at this particular moment in time. Also on hold are the many plans to bring our St. Simon's community together again after the prolonged separation imposed by Covid 19.

Each day countless covid-related reports from multiple sources, pandemic related media sensationalism, talk show arguments, political grandstanding, and personal fears all blend together to produce a powerful formula for becoming lost in a world changing more rapidly that one could have ever expected. The confusion and unknowingness being generated breeds anxiety, fear, and anger. Painful feelings that confuse us and obscure our way.

Who to believe; what to do; how to live what is quickly becoming an unrecognizable lifestyle – all questions that are completely legitimate, and I would imagine shared by many if not all of you.

I cannot think of a more critical time in our lives to re-hear the promises made by Christ – promises to lead us, promises to be our light, promises to be our sustenance, promises to be our savior. And, of course, in turn to hear our promises made to him each and every week as we receive his body, the bread of heaven. Our promises to faithfully serve God in unity, constancy, and peace.

Unity, constancy, and peace – take a moment to reflect on these three simple words that are the core of our promise to Jesus.

We promise unity – that means quite literally that we are all on the same page as we move through the tangle of today's world with all its many voices competing for power and authority. We must strive to "tune out" those voices, consider them unwelcome distractions from the voice that dwells within us – the voice of Jesus. We must allow ourselves to be led by the Holy Spirit, our advocate, our direct link to God.

We promise constancy – that means a commitment to times of quiet reflection in which we can re-focus our thoughts, separate fact from fiction, and remember that the promises made by Jesus are contingent on our staying steady on the path that he has shown us. To be constant means that we must not be distracted by the complexity of life around us. We must proceed calmly, always aware of what we are saying and doing and why. Always keeping our hearts and our minds focused on Jesus and his promises as our guideposts.

We promise peace – that means that the outcome of our commitment to unity and constancy is a life of peace. A life centered in and grounded by the love and compassion that is the gift of our promise. Peace - our bread from heaven, our promise from Jesus. Our vow before God.

Our eucharistic promise is our vow to live a life that is caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ.