What’s in your backpack?

Luke 13:10–17 (children's sermon for Blessing of the Backpacks Sunday)

The bent over woman in today’s scripture must have looked a little odd and she must have had a hard time.  How would she have cooked? Or got food from a top cupboard?  I wonder what made her so bent over?  I wonder if she had a backpack that was full of too many heavy things to carry around.  When my kids went back to school, I would lift their backpacks to make sure they didn’t get too bent over from carrying the supplies around.

How heavy is your backpack? Is it weighing you down, hurting your back, bending you over, keeping you from feeling good about yourself and your life, preventing you from looking people in the eyes or having joy in your life?

Let’s take time to look at what is in our backpacks and whether we can lighten our load a bit.  Sometimes that means leaving my favorite book at home.  I can’t take all 7 Harry Potter books to school every day, that would hurt my back for sure.  But we can look at our backpacks as something more.  Let’s play pretend and look at what might be too heavy for our backpacks!

I think we all have an imaginary backpack that we use to carry around some pretty heavy things.  I have my imaginary backpack right here.  Why, it’s full of rocks! No wonder it’s so heavy!

The first rock says ‘pain and suffering’.  I can imagine that this would have been what the Bent over woman had in her imaginary backpack.  Some people might wonder what the difference is between pain and suffering.  I like to think of it as like when a three-year old hurts its finger.  It cries for mommy, who puts a bandage on the finger.  But the three year old doesn’t really stop crying until mommy kisses it better and gives it a hug.  Now we older people know that a kiss won’t fix pain, that’s what a bandage does.  But a kiss reassures the child that it is loved and cared for.  The kiss helps ease the suffering.  People who teach how to take care of hurting folks in the hospital say that when people have caring gentle friends, they can handle the pain, because the friends care.  That caring can ease the suffering.  A gentle hug or a nice joke or even a drawing can be the most helpful medicine.  Jesus knew that and that’s why he was so kind to the bent over woman!  Jesus helped her with both pain and sorrow.  Today we can use bandages, but we also can use doctors and nurses.  Back in Jesus’ day, only the rich could have doctors, but because Jesus healed this woman who was probably poor, now we have hospitals that anyone can go to no matter how much money is in the bank.  I think that’s awesome!

The second isn’t a rock, it’s a brick!  What does it say? Anger!  Anger is tricky.  Like the brick it can be used to hurt or it can be used to build up.  Anger can be a great teacher.  Sometimes we get angry because we are feeling hurt, or in fancy language, our boundaries are being disrespected.  Boundaries are kind of like imaginary fences.  If I am hungry, my plate of food is inside my imaginary fence.  If someone takes my food from my plate, I may feel angry, and like my imaginary fence has been disrespected.  It may be something as simple as food or as complicated as freedom.  When that happens, we can feel angry.

The leader got angry because he thought Jesus was breaking the fence of what was okay for church and what was not okay.  Maybe he felt that Jesus was not respecting him as a leader should be treated.

Jesus got angry back.  Not because the leader was breaking Jesus fence, but because Jesus thought that there was something more important than the leader and that was helping someone not suffer.  They could have gotten into a fight and thrown bricks at each other, but this didn’t happen.  Instead it was a chance for Jesus to teach the leader about kindness.  Sometimes if we can take a breath or say our ‘Be Still’ prayer, it can help us take a moment to ask if our fences are being broken or do we need to teach something?  When I was a kid, I was told to count to 10, but I like praying more.

Here are two little rocks that are very similar.  One is guilt and one is shame.  Those are hard to get out of the backpack.  Sometimes they are so hard that we need help to pull them out.  It’s okay to ask for help to do that.  Sometimes people come and talk to me, and sometimes if the rock is really heavy, they need to talk to a counsellor or coach or psychiatrist.  I have had to get help to pull out my rocks from time to time.  It’s okay!

What’s the difference between guilt and shame?  They can look very similar, but can you feel this?  It’s sticky!  That’s shame.  It’s really sticky because shame says ‘I am bad.’  Guilt says ‘I did bad’.  If I think I did something bad, like I broke a glass, I can fix it by saving my money and buy a new one or use the glue to fix the broken glass.  Once I have fixed what I did, I probably won’t feel bad or sad about it anymore.  But shame says, ‘I am bad’ and that is very sticky.  That takes time and help to fix.  We’re not bad, we’re God’s beloved children who make mistakes and aren’t perfect.  That’s why I like Jesus more than Santa.  Jesus loves us and never says “have you been good?”

Here’s the last one and it’s the heavy one.  What is this one?  Fear!  When we are afraid, we can get angry, or jealous or worried or ashamed.  Fear is terrible to live with.  Jeremiah felt fear.  But God said, ‘don’t be afraid, I am with you’.  Now I think that there are times to be afraid, like when I am walking across the road and I see a loud fast truck coming towards me.  Fear can give me the energy to get out of the way.  But sometimes fear can be more about what might happen than what actually is happening.  Is it real? Will it always happen?  Can I find a way to keep it from happening?  I can look for trucks before I cross the road.  I can listen for trucks before I cross the road.  I can use the cross walk light.  I can walk with other people on the cross walk.  All these can help me be less afraid.  Jeremiah didn’t have to be afraid, even though he was a kid.  God was with him.  And when we are with others who love and care for us like Jesus cared for us, God is with us too and we don’t need to be afraid.  Thanks be to God!

Easter Sunday Halleluiah

I’ve been glued to the news this week.  First there was the Notre Dame Cathedral, then there was the election.  Now there’s a flood in Ontario and an explosion in Sri Lanka at churches. I am so not going to talk about the election, so you can all take a big breath of relief.  We’re going to have a sanctuary time free from all the political debate this morning.

But then I heard some truly dreadful news yesterday morning.  On Thursday, as we were setting up for the Maundy Thursday meal with Allendria, Jean Keefe told me about a cousin of hers, a young man who was running for the Green Party in PEI.  The whole family was excited because it looked like he had a real chance to get in to the legislature, to be elected.  The news yesterday of a young politician with the last name of Underhay having drowned with his son was stark and tragic.  And yes, it was Jean’s relative whose story was in the news.  This gifted leader would never see his children grow up, to experience political leadership in the province he dearly loved, and his son would also never grow up. 

It’s times like these where we face the stark truth that life can be full of tragedy and hurt.  That the world is not like some giant Disney movie where the good team always win the big game, and the people who aren’t nice have their come-uppance.  Some days life is not fair.  Some days Good Friday and the cross weigh heavily on our hearts.  Some days Easter feels like a daydream that is too good to be true.  Some days our lives hurt.

The women coming to the tomb that first morning were hurting.  They had lost more than a man, they had lost their wise leader, their inspiration, their cheerleader, their healer.  They lost the one who had turned their lives upside down and gave them hope that they could make a difference in the world. 

They came in grief and despair, doubt and resignation.  They came feeling the weight of life on their shoulders, determined to do what was the tradition at the time, even though they were struggling with their grief. 

They came, just as you come, with all their fears and worries and anxieties.  They didn’t expect to have their lives turned upside down.  Maybe they were having a moment like John Lennon must have had when he wrote his song 'God'.  In it he lists everything that he doesn’t believe in anymore, he doesn’t believe in magic, he doesn’t believe in I Ching, the Bible, Tarot, Hitler, Jesus, Kennedy and so on.  It’s a long list of things he doesn’t believe in.  That pattern doesn’t stop until he gets to the only thing he can believe in, himself and Yoko Ono and their love for each other.

That’s not too far from what we do in our daily lives.  We live as if the only thing we believe in is ourselves and maybe a special family member or two.  We saw this most starkly in some of the on-line debates between neighbors about the election on Tuesday.  The name calling, the accusations, the glee in which people posted pictures of vandalism of NDP and UCP election posters was shocking.  It seemed like insults and name calling was the order of the day with people on all sides of the debate accusing each other of being blind, stupid, naive and listening to the wrong ‘false news’.  The conversation, as far as I can tell, has not gotten any politer.  There is hurt on both sides, because neither can understand how any rational human being could possibly have a different opinion than they do.  They don’t believe in anything except their own thoughts.  And they only believe in a world that is as angry or as threatened as they are.

 Easter is a time of stories that get turned upside down, of witnesses who claim that their fears have been transformed into joy, that life holds no terrors for them any more. 

They have gone from grief-stricken women who are stammering in their confusion and excitement, to eloquent speakers and workers of great deeds of compassion.  They have gone from rough and tumble fishermen who only knew how to work with their hands to men with a passion and a story to tell.  They have gone from arrogant intellectuals who thought they knew everything there was to know about scripture and God, and who would hunt down and persecute anyone who didn’t think like them, to writing impassioned speeches about how they were wrong, and this new radical community was changing the way the world worked.  They went from terrified peasants and timid religious scholars to bold challengers of injustice that wouldn’t let threats of death stop them proclaiming and witnessing to the crazy story that Christ had risen.

We are invited to share our stories, our witness, of how our lives have been turned upside down by the empty tomb and the good news of the resurrection.  It may seem crazy, it may seem unrealistic, but it still has a message we need to hear.  That all the cruelty that humans can throw at each other in the name of politics or control, is still no match for the transformation when we humbly approach the cross with open hearts and minds.

On this Easter Earth Day, let us boldly proclaim that Jesus Christ has conquered all fear, all hate, all prejudice and resentment.  Love conquers, and when we meet face to face with the Risen Christ, let us be so emboldened that we too will run to be witnesses to a vision of life that continues to turn the world upside down in glories and halleluiahs! Amen

Healing thoughts on Canada Day

On Canada Day, it’s appropriate to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we are going.  What vision do we have for our country?  What do we lament, and how do we move forward?  When we look at our lives through the lens of scriptures, what are we called to in our Christian journeys in this land?

The one phrase I hope we never use to describe Canada is “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I Always thought this came from a Shakespeare play, and didn’t realize that David used these words to lament his friend Jonathan’s death.  What heartbreak he was speaking.  And if we read this scripture in context, in 1 Samuel 18, we can see a family dispute over David’s loyalty.  Saul was struggling with mental illness and David would play his harp to calm Saul.  Then Jonathan met David and the verse says, “When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”  Saul got jealous, started to plot how to kill David and at a memorable family party, Saul swore at his son Jonathan and tried to kill him in front of everyone.  He used his political power to bully and control not just his people, but his own family as well.

When we have families that don’t know how to talk to each other, when we use our power to push people like David and Jonathan into conforming to society norms, when we don’t admit our frailties and our mistakes, things can erupt into civil wars and broken lives.  Countries become full of suspicion, tension, prejudice and hate.

Jesus lived in a country like that, one where temple officials seemed out of touch with ordinary folks.  Jesus could have reacted negatively to the people who asked him for help.  He was approached by both a rich and famous man named Jairus, head of a large household and a poor, unnamed woman full of desperation.  Both came with a humble heart to ask for help.  Both had to be vulnerable in the face of a crowd.  Jairus, despite his status in the community, fell at Jesus’ feet and admitted that he needed help that only Jesus could provide.  The unnamed woman admitted that she, a woman seen as cursed because of her hemorrhaging., had done the unspeakable by touching a Rabbi in public, making him unclean.  Interestingly enough, Jairus, even though he knew Jesus had been touched by the woman, still allowed Jesus into his house to heal his daughter.  Somehow on that journey, Jairus forgot to worry about that, was more focused on being a parent than a temple official.  And maybe just maybe, the unnamed woman came with him on the journey.  Maybe, just maybe, they became a community of faith on the Way.

I wish I could heal people the way Jesus did, especially when I see someone in the hospital who is young and sweet and gifted and loved by many dying of cancer.  The truth is that I can’t, we can’t heal physical diseases the way Jesus did.  Doctors can cure, but not heal.  They too will say that there is no telling who will respond to treatment and who won’t.  Nurses will tell you that they can’t predict whether a patient will live for days, weeks or even months with the final stages of cancer.  But what we can do is come like Jesus did, not to point fingers at sick people, but to be with them and accompany them as best we can, forgiving them if such needs to happen, like Jesus forgave the unclean woman, and hear them when they are vulnerable, like Jesus did with Jairus. To go to them like Jesus did with the young girl, and treat them with respect and love.

In the end, only God heals.  God gives us tools and skills that we can learn and practise.  Those skills of listening, gentle presence, kind actions, prayers and thoughtful touches can bring healing that may indeed be more important than the physical healing we so desperately crave.

 A professor of mine says that the greatest part of suffering is often mental, and that people can endure a lot of physical pain if they have worked on healing their minds, their emotions, their relationships and their community.  Let us remember that our presence can help with the suffering when we open ourselves humbly. In the days ahead, may we be strengthened by God to be bearers of healing presence to the pain we see in our world, our community and our country.

Bent Over Woman

Luke 13:10 Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years...

Whoever came up with the idea of having the story of the Bent over woman in August must have been a gardener over the age of 50! It’s easy to sympathise with her in these hot days when the weeds are high and thick, and the carrots need pulling, the potatoes need digging, the beans need snapping and the zucchinis need to be pulled before they become the size of a major league baseball bat.  If you need a zucchini, please let me know.  Seriously!

One of the things I noticed while pulling weeds this week is how limited our view becomes.  The focus narrows down to the chickweeds and the petunias.  There is no looking at the blue sky or a rose-colored sunset or the far horizon of a lake shore or the high peak of a mountain.  There’s just the dirt at your toes, and maybe the feet of people around you.  It’s an unpredictable world too, being bent over.  Rain storms may be overhead, or a forest fire on the horizon, but staring down means that these kinds of things can not be anticipated or planned for.  They just happen.

I’ve met a few bent over women; one was my husband’s grandmother who had debilitating osteoporosis and was quite debilitated at the end of her days.  Another was a lady struggling with muscular dystrophy.  She is a few years older than me, and her spine is quite curved.  I thought at first she was having a difficult time in her wheelchair as she sat far forward on it, but then I realized that her spine was so bent that she looked like she was maybe 5 feet, but was probably closer to six feet tall.  It took a team of 5 people to get her down into the lake to go for a swim.  And I often think of the woman whose husband reroofed the manse last July.  She was camping with her kids and saved them from a falling tree.  Our roofer had to leave several times to help out with the kids and to be there when she woke up from the medically induced coma to the news that she has lost the use of her legs for the rest of her life. 

But the woman I remember the most, who actually didn’t have a bent over back, but taught me a lot about disabilities, was a lady who I met in first year university.  She lived in a dorm room two doors down from me and was a year or two older than me.  She was a thalidomide baby.  In her case, she had arms that were maybe a foot long, complete with elbows and hands, but only about 4 fingers each.  It meant that she couldn’t do buttons but she could do zippers.  Winter coats had to be adjusted to shorten the sleeves, and mittens were awkward, to say the least.  She could hold spoons and pencils, loved skiing and swimming, but had no way to tie shoe laces.  Things that I took for granted, bike riding for example, or typing, were challenges that had to be figured out in a way that would work for her.  But one thing stuck in my memory of her.  She once told me that she didn’t mind looking different than others and having challenges.  She figured that everyone had some kind of disability, but some people’s disabilities were on the outside for the world to see.  Other’s disabilities were inside, and invisible even to themselves.  They are bent over, seeing only what is at their feet. They can’t see straight.

Jesus straightened up two people that day in the synagogue. He brought health and new horizons to the bent over woman, but also to the synagogue leader.  The leader had forgotten the reason for the Sabbath.  It wasn’t just about not working, a reminder that we are not slaves any longer, but it was about remembering to take time to be in relationship with God.  And the leader was narrow-minded in his assumptions.  In his eyes, the woman was crippled because she somehow had done something to deserve it.  That’s still a common thread I often hear, “everything happens for a reason,” or even, “I must have some really bad karma.”  He was also feeling threatened.

 I can imagine that he was going about leading his regular service in his regular way, and this Jesus fellow stole the show, made the worship service a little chaotic with his actions, and the people must have been full of excitement about what they had just witnessed.  Rather than leading the congregation in joining the woman to praise God, he carped about technicalities.  Things weren’t fitting into his comfortable, predictable box.  Jesus stepped outside the bounds by noticing the woman and empathizing with her.  He touched her in compassion, wishing to free her from her feelings of shame and isolation.  She didn’t ask for the healing, she was used to it after 18 years.  But maybe she wasn’t so used to being seen as someone worthy of the same respect and kindness as others who could stand up straight and tall.  Jesus didn’t just straighten her out, but reminded the leader that it’s about the bigger picture of God’s compassionate love for those who we would most like to dismiss and ignore.

There are so many people who are struggling, bent over with sorrows that cripple their relationships, their families and their very souls.  Some are too angry to come to church; sometimes it is the church where they experienced a sense of shame from a leader with too narrow a point of view.  They struggle from day to day, not hearing a kind word, a gentle touch, a moment of empathy.  We may not be able to cure their pain, but we can remember that they too are children of God.  And there are times we too are crippled up in pain both physical and emotional.  Part of my vacation was struggling with the pain of self-doubt and fear.  But when we gather together in a faith community, whether it’s here in Athabasca, at a church camp, or in a congregation hundreds of miles from home, we gather to hear the hope in Jesus’ words of love, “you are set free from that which cripples you.” May we remember that love and that hope.