"We Have Never Seen Anything Like This"

the church as a means of alleviating suffering

Good morning Blue Roomies!

Below is the reflection I shared last Sunday at Trinity, along with audio. As you will see, the sermon owes a huge debt to a fellow writer here on Substack, The UltraContemplative. Steve, my people loved this story. Thank you for sharing it.

Due to a quirk of the schedule and the support of my pastoral colleague, it’s my last actual sermon until early December—a welcome respite as I finish the book (fingers crossed and candles lit). I’ve been in crunch time, but now it’s crunch-crunch time. That said, I’ve been trying to post quick thoughts to Substack Notes each morning. Notes is a social network for people who write and read on Substack (the site that hosts The Blue Room)—think Facebook with more authors and artists, or Twitter with fewer bots and trolls. I began this daily practice with reflections on a recent retreat about Celtic spirituality I attended. Those notes are here, here and here.

Saint Bride (Brigid) by John Duncan, referenced in one of my Notes above.

~

MaryAnn McKibben Dana
Trinity Presbyterian Church
October 20, 2020
Mark 2:1-12

The Church as a Means for Alleviating Suffering

When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door, and he was speaking the word to them. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Now some of the scribes were sitting there questioning in their hearts, “Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves, and he said to them, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier: to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and take your mat and walk’? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he said to the paralytic—“I say to you, stand up, take your mat, and go to your home.” And he stood up and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!”

We are now a little over halfway through our Why Church series, in which we take up the question of what God is up to with us and through us. And in considering these aspects of the church’s work, our job description if you will, you may be noticing some overlap between these different dimensions of our call. Church as countercultural community has some similarity with church as a means for social change, for example. Church as gathered community, church as the body of Christ—connected. Today’s story and theme (church as a people who alleviate suffering) bear some echoes of the last time I preached, on healing and compassion. That day we also took up a story of Jesus healing someone, and that story also had some tangled-up notions of forgiveness and healing.

You may remember my frustration back in John 9, when a man born blind has his sight restored, and rather than people celebrating, they try to pull him into some theological arguments about Jesus and healing on the sabbath and whose “fault” it was that the man was blind. We don’t see as much of that here. In fact, we see a group of the man’s friends going the extra mile for him. Accompanying him to the place where Jesus will be preaching and teaching. Seeing the crowds all around the house, multiple people deep, the doorway completely blocked, and taking matters into their own hands.

When I read this story, I will always and forever, think of Cindy Bolbach, a ruling elder from our presbytery who served as moderator of our denomination. Both Stephen and I supported her campaign that year, and this story, this biblical story, was a parable for the church of our time, according to Cindy. Cindy was as Presbyterian as you could get, but she recognized that for the church to continue to be faithful in a changing culture, it had to be willing to grow and change with the times. What if those friends had decided that the roof and the walls were more important than their friend? We have to be about more than preserving what is. At their best, our church structures and traditions help us do the work God calls us to. But sometimes, those structures and attitudes get in our way, like that roof that the friends busted through so their friend could meet Jesus face to face.

And so, this is a story about alleviating suffering through accompaniment. Through showing up for one another, like the four friends show up with the man called the paralytic here. And, through removing structures and barriers that get in the way of relieving suffering, and may in fact perpetuate it. According to one commentator:

Jesus’ healing ministry challenged the system in Galilee whereby the urban secular and religious powers exploited the rural poor. The sick among the peasantry, often in such a state because of excessive taxation or the expropriation of their land, were said to be so because they had sinned. Sound familiar? Their only recourse was the temple, where they could remedy their sin, but only by giving up more of their meager resources, thereby increasing their poverty and the likelihood of further sickness. (from Feasting on the Word)

When we do the hard work of accompanying those who are suffering, and offering the assistance that we can, we realize that our fates are all tied up together. Everyone who saw what happened were amazed and glorified God. Jesus words and healing didn’t just change one person’s life—this event changed lots of lives.

We will never be completely well if our neighbor is suffering.

We will never be completely free if our neighbor is bound up in oppression.

We will never be completely whole if the neighborhood is fractured.

Especially if we can do something about it. Whether it’s picking up a red bag to fill with canned goods, picking up a volunteer shift at the Closet, picking up a homebound person who needs a ride to church, or yes, picking up a pledge card and filling it out as generously as we can so the ministry of God in this corner of the world can continue, and not just continue, but flourish.

You’ll be hearing a lot over this stewardship season about our big hairy audacious goal, to hire a part-time coordinator for children and youth ministry. To be bluntly clear, we don’t currently have the budget for this position. But we believe we can. We believe God can make it happen through increased excitement, support, and giving.

I’ve struggled a bit with how to talk about this position to some of you. We’re so grateful to see pews full of kids during the children’s sermon, and youth taking part in all aspects of our church’s life, from liturgist to service projects to occasionally singing in the choir. At the same time, I know for many of you, “next gen” ministries will not impact you directly. Demographically, as I look out on our congregation, how to put this… our average hair color indicates that many of us will not benefit directly from a coordinator for children and youth! But this story in Mark’s gospel reminds us that our lives are tied up in one another. When our children know they are loved and supported, that love and support rebounds on all of us. When our youth can come to a place where they don’t have to be the best soccer player or the straight-A student to know they are loved by God and by us, we get to bask in that message too.

One man was healed in this story, but many people’s lives were changed forever. “We have never seen anything like this!”

My friend Steve lives in California and worked in the financial sector for many years. He and I bonded over our shared love of ultra running, but he’s also a spiritual director and a contemplative, who had a long and deep ministry among the unhoused people in his town. Some years ago he got wind of a young woman named Veronika Scott. Veronika lived in Michigan, and was aware of the tremendous challenge of the homeless population in such a cold climate. She spent a semester as a college student designed a warm coat that would also transform into a sleeping bag. That project became the Empowerment Plan, which takes the proceeds from selling these coats to organizations around the country, and invests that money into providing job training, education and support for marginalized people in her area. Steven contacted Veronika and asked if he could buy 100 of them, at a cost of $100 each.

What you should know about Steve is that he didn’t quite have the money upfront—he had enough for the deposit, which he funded himself. But sometimes when you’re trying to alleviate suffering, you lean into faith and trust that God will find a way.

Well, God did help Steve find a way to fund those coats, through a GoFundMe, and the plans were made for delivery to take place.

Next challenge is that word got out to the unhoused population that these coats would arrive and be distributed at a Wednesday night community-wide dinner. Which meant that the number of homeless people attending that dinner was starting to grow. And grow. And grow. Steve and his partner in the homeless ministry soon realized that even at 100 coats, there would not be enough to go around. What to do? They decided the only way to keep things fair would be to offer tickets to anyone who attended, and have a random drawing.

Here is what Steve writes (lightly edited) –

Our usual headcount was never more than 30 but on the designated Wednesday for the coat lottery, I figured I needed to provide for over 120 hungry people. Abraham, a local store owner, who opened his parking [for our work], said he could get catered food for the lottery event via Los Angeles Lakers practice day leftovers.

It took quite a while for us to serve the over 100 people that had shown up for the lottery and when we were finished serving, there were no leftovers. Everyone who came for dinner received a ticket with their food; I handed out the tickets personally. Like the food, there were no leftovers; I knew that I had dispensed all 120 tickets.

Samantha, a gentle soul that everyone loved, was picked to draw tickets from the box. One by one, as numbers were called, the winning ticket holder came up to receive their coat. Every winner was greeted with loud applause and shouts of congratulations. There were numerous tearful thank you’s and I gave out numerous tearful hugs along with the coats.

But as the number of coats dwindled down to the last few, a remarkable, unexpected sequence of events occurred, to be remembered with the other remarkable events that have happened whenever I was with these people.

Previous winners were coming back with their coats, handing them back to us.

“Pastor Steve, I have plenty of blankets, I really don’t need this. Give it to somebody else.”

It happened again and again.

After a short while, Samantha, in a very surprised but hushed tone said, “We have more coats than tickets left in the box.”

“Keep calling out numbers,” I told her.

We only had 100 coats, yet every one of the 120 who had received a ticket that day had their number called. When the box was empty of uncalled numbers, we saw two coats sitting on the table beside us.

I knew I had witnessed something beyond human, stepping into the realm reserved for the divine. Of all the things I had learned spending time with my homeless friends, they had taught me lessons in a new economy, an economy I needed more lessons on. How can anyone who has nothing be so willing to give to someone else who has less? In my competitive world of finance this didn’t make sense. But in the divine economy, the economy of love, this is the only thing that makes sense. (Source)

In other words…

“We have never seen anything like this.”

It’s happened before. And it can happen again.

May it be so.