Desire well-being!

Sixth Sunday in Easter, Year C, May 1, 2016; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

Acts 16:9-15 Come and stay at my home.
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5 I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God.
John 5:1-9 Stand up, take your mat and walk.

O God of our vision of healing, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

Good job getting here this morning! The first Sunday of May is always the day for Project Bread’s Walk for Hunger – and of course, what that means is Walk for Hunger relief. Project Bread’s mission is to end hunger in Massachusetts. The organizers expect that more than 40,000 people are walking or running (or trudging or limping) to raise awareness and raise money to develop and provide better food security in Massachusetts. That seems like an awful lot of people – especially if you were trying to get here from north of the Charles River, and it is a lot of people. They will raise a lot of money. The scandalous truth is, though, that it will not be nearly enough because one out of every ten households in Massachusetts struggles with too little to eat. Of course, that 10% is not evenly distributed. In some communities, as many as 7 in 10 households experience hunger. Twenty percent of all households with children in Massachusetts have insufficient food to eat. As we approach the end of the school year, the access to meals for children gets much more precarious because breakfast and lunch are not being provided at school. Part of what we are doing when we participate in B-SAFE (our diocese’s day camp academic enrichment program) is providing breakfast and lunch to hungry kids. Although it is a large program, B-SAFE reaches only about 525 children and about 100 teens. Twenty percent of all households with children in Massachusetts have insufficient food to eat.

That shameful statistic was weighing on my heart as I imagined inviting the children of this parish to come close to our communion table for our Eucharistic prayer this morning. They’re in the chapel now, talking about Holy Communion, and, if all goes according to plan, they’ll come from the chapel, when the offertory gifts are presented. I’m going to lead us all in the Eucharistic prayer that we use during Eastertide at Emmanuel, and I’m going to add brief explanations. I’ve put some subtitles in the bulletin so that you all can follow along too! The daily bread for which Jesus taught his followers to pray is not a metaphor – he was teaching people with empty bellies to pray for enough food to get through to tomorrow. The open communion table that we practice is also not a metaphor. We are asserting with real bread and real wine, and the real presence of Christ, that all who are hungry can share in our abundance. We are developing muscle memory for sharing what we have, asserting that there is enough for everyone when we share what we have. I want our children to have the best view of that today, because I want to develop their vision of the realm of God, where hungry people are fed, where people whose hands are outstretched receive what we have.

It seems particularly poignant to me that our first lesson from the Acts of the Apostles is a story about when Paul met Lydia, some time in the middle of the first century of the common era. Paul had a vision, we are told, that he should head for Europe and proclaim the good news to them. (The good news, you will remember, is that hungry people are fed, suffering people are healed, imprisoned people are freed, homeless people are offered shelter, that love is more powerful than death.) Paul, being convinced that God had called him, along with Silas, and the narrator, traveled to Philippi. On the Sabbath day they went down to the river to pray. They sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.

Lydia was there. She was a worshiper of God, which is a description that means that she was neither Jew nor Pagan, but somewhere in between on her spiritual journey. [1] She was a businesswoman, a dealer of purple goods. This means, not just any kind of businesswoman, but a wealthy, powerful businesswoman. Purple dye was a highly prized luxury, worth its weight in gold and silver. Purple was the color of power, the color of clothing for imperial authority and other nobility. Purple clothing got brighter and deeper with wear. Lydia had considerable resources and, according to Acts, she was moved by the good news. Lydia’s heart was opened. She was so moved that she wanted to be baptized and she had her whole household baptized. She is not mentioned as the wife or daughter of anyone. Lydia was the head of household. With words of deep humility, Lydia persuaded Paul and his companions to stay at her house. In her book, The Friendship of Women, Joan Chittister explains that the first Jesus-following congregation in Europe was an assembly of women. [2] Soon after that Paul and Silas were thrown into prison. When an earthquake allowed them to escape, they headed right back to Lydia’s house.

Some of you might remember that when I was dreaming of sabbatical travel four years ago, I was finding all kinds of tours advertising “follow the footsteps of St. Paul!” and I thought, “what about following in the footsteps of the women who financed and supported the work of Jesus and the ministries that Paul encouraged? I ranted, “What about Mary Magdalene, Susanna, Joanna, Lydia, Junia, Phoebe, Veronica, Euodia, Syntyche, Priscilla, Lois, Eunice?” The parish committee that was working with me said, “Pick one, Pam. You can’t follow all of them in one short sabbatical!” So I picked Mary Magdalene and I don’t regret it, but I do hope to get to Philippi some day to see the church built in St. Lydia’s honor. The Orthodox Church gives her the title of “Equal to the Apostles.” The Western Church has been slow to follow. It seems like Lydia would be a fitting patron saint for Newbury Street. She helped build the church at Philippi. She was moved by the teachings of Jesus, delivered by Paul, to redistribute her wealth through the church.

Later, when Paul wrote his letter to the church in Philippi, he said, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the good news from the first day until now.” [3] It’s Paul’s words of thanksgiving for various Jesus-following congregations that have persuaded me that giving thanks is what we should be doing when we pray the names of Churches around the world and parishes around our Diocese in our Prayers of the People. So rather than “praying for” the names in the cycles, we “give thanks for” The Anglican Church of Kenya, and for Christ Church and Iglesia de San Juan in Hyde Park, for Ascension Memorial in Ipswich, for St. John’s in JP, and so forth. The Greek word for “I thank” is eucharisteo. When we make eucharist, we are making thanks. Do you see how this is all tying together? (Perhaps not in a neat bow, but it’s all tying together!)

The vision that John the Divine had of the City of God, is a vision of a whole society healed – no dangerous darkness, no security gates, no filth, nothing accursed, no suffering. The doors are wide open and people bring into the City of God the glory (or appearance) and the honor of all the nations (not just one nation, or a few nations, but all the nations).

Our Gospel lesson from John is actually the alternative reading from our lectionary. John 14:23-29 was the first option listed. Because our music director, Ryan Turner is particularly good at scheduling motets and cantatas to go with the scripture readings, and because he knows that I usually go with the first option, the motet and cantata both refer to that passage. However, a week ago, when I re-read the two choices, I found the second option speaking to me about a vision of healing on an individual level. I noticed that our first two readings today were speaking to me about visions of healing– a vision of healing in a gathering of God worshipers in the story from Acts, a vision of healing of society in the passage from the Revelation to John. Our Eucharist gives thanks for a vision of healing in our particular gathering of God worshipers today. Project Bread is offering a vision of healing of society in its Walk for Hunger. And what about any of us? What is the vision of healing for any of us as individuals?

Since the Gospel of John begins with mystical and metaphorical language that continues all the way through, I don’t see any reason at all to take this story literally. Set in the middle of one of the three pilgrimage festivals, we don’t know whether it was the festival of freedom (Passover), the festival of first fruits (Pentecost), or the festival of the harvest (Sukkot). The point is that the city was crowded with pilgrims, including many who were in need of healing. When Jesus saw a man who had been ill for thirty-eight years, and Jesus knew that the man had been there for a long time, the question he asked was, “Do you desire to become well?” This question brings me up short when I put myself in this man’s place and think on any injury or condition that I have had for thirty-eight years (and I’ll tell you, there are some that I have had for longer).

“Do you desire well-being?” I think my answer is so often like the man on the pavement: “no-one is helping me and everyone else gets ahead of me.” What Jesus says in response can be translated, “wake up, pay attention, become aware. Take up your poor man’s bed and live, behave as if you are alive.” All of these words in Greek have literal and figurative meanings just like they do in English – wake up, move along, live your life. This is a miracle story, for sure, so let’s not imprison it in a narrow literal translation that excludes any one of us or anyone we love. Let’s participate fully. That day was a Sabbath, and so is this day. Let’s wake up to rejoice and be glad! Let’s give thanks to God for the visions of healing that are possible for us as individuals, as a congregation, and as a society, let’s name our desire and our vision and commit ourselves to well-being in the name of our mighty savior, Jesus Christ.

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