Change

     The story from the Old Testament this week is one of mystery, one of surprise, one of amazing teaching, and one of great comfort. The story itself takes place outside time and space from the perspective of a faithful Israelite. Those who have read Kings and Chronicles note that the events in their history take place during the reign of particular kings. Yet our story this weekend takes place after Ahaziah has passed (1:18) but before Jehoram has ascended the throne (3:1). Sure, as students of history, we can figure the years, but given the context of how most stories in this book are related, we should notice that something is different.

     Another big difference is the location of the events. Most of the stories in Kings and Chronicles take place in the land of Israel, the Land promised to Abraham, Sarah, Jacob and the rest of the matriarchs and patriarchs of Israel. Yet, this story does not. We see a good bit of wandering as Elisha follows his master around, but the main even occurs outside the Land. The main event occurs after Elijah stops the waters of the Jordan and crosses back over outside the Land. Elijah and Elisha cross back over to where the people swore their covenant with God in Deuteronomy, to where God acts in mighty displays, and to that place thought of as the wilderness.

     So, why the emphasis on time and location? In one sense, one of the messages conveyed in this passage address a concern of the people of God no matter their location and no matter their time: change. Change is one of those events which matters to people no matter where and no matter when. We as American Episcopalians can probably understand this better than most. As Episcopalians, we are taught and trained that change is to be feared. Don't change the music. Don't let people serve on the Vestry without at least a decade of membership so they can learn how things ought to work. Heaven help us if the clergy leaves; he/she is the best thing to have ever happened to this parish. Don't change the order of worship. Don't upset my life. As Americans, we have a sense that we are entitled to that lack of change. I could choose to go to a changing church, but I choose to go here, to this church that does not change.

     God, of course, understands far better than we that change is always happening in our lives. I have joked above about us American Episcopalians hating change, but look at our lives. We have a new President for the first time in eight years. Eight years is quite a span. Heck, Karen and I have had three kids in that time frame. How will the President react to certain events? How will he govern? What campaign promises will he try to keep? Which ones will he jettison immediately? Questions like that run through our minds over this change, and we have not even touched upon the significant change that his election, as a minority member, heralds and confirms about race relations in our nation. And, although most of us are Iowans, nearly all of us have watched the change foisted upon our brothers and sisters across the river with the actions of their now deposed governor and his appointed Senator. Oh, lest I forget, there is that economic recession thing that is causing some changes in peoples' lives . . .

     At least our beloved church is immune to change, right? At least we as American Episcopalians can find that one place of surety, that one place that has no change in our chosen location and denomination of worship, right?  In the last two months a couple more dioceses have voted to disaffiliate from our General Convention, one of which is just across the river. We have been so affected by the economic malaise that the Executive Committee has crossed the MDG's line item off the triennial budget. We made such a huge statement about that being our focus and publicly called upon secular governments to follow our example. Now, with no fanfare, no apology, no accounting, no pulpit thumping, we have given them up for a season.
Well, at least our parish is immune to change, right? I mean, we are comfortable with what we have right here. Except for the fact that we will elect new members to the Vestry this week, some of whom may not have the required time put in "learning about how we do things at St. Alban's." Except for the fact that we will have to make some hard choices on the budget if non-pledgers and non-participants decide not to include themselves in the mission of St. Alban's. Except for the fact that we have to deal with personal traumas such as death, job loss, unexpected relationship problems, illnesses, addictions, and a list of other possibilities.

     Yes, change is a part of life. Yet, for the Christian, change is not something to be feared. Change, as scary and haphazard as it may seem to us, is still subject to God's sovereignty. And change is always furthering God's plan of salvation history. No matter how bad the change might seem to us, He is constantly at work in our lives. Job losses, relationship failures, illnesses, addictions and all those personal changes can be redeemed by the very God who redeemed us on the cross and conquered death that we might live for ever! The Church picked up on this understanding early, though perhaps we must needs be reminded from time to time. Bishops sat at the feet of bishops who sat at the feet of bishops who sat at the feet of one of the disciples who sat at the feet of Jesus. We read God's story, His story, to remind ourselves of His mighty acts, His amazing grace, and His unfathomable mercy. Even when things seem utterly hopeless and loss, such as at Christ's death or Israel's exile, He acts to redeem and to save His people.

     Part of our mission, part of our obligation, is to remind the world that the vagaries are not in control. The Creator who loves us each as a perfect Father ought has worked and is still working to bring all His children home. We are no more trapped by change than we are trapped by our circumstances. He is always able to overcome and to transcend anything in our lives. In a world fretting over change, is there a better message to relate?  Is there a better story to tell?
Peace,
Brian†

Who are the lepers in your life?

     At the risk of offending Charlie this week, I am somewhat glad he interrupted my sermon during the second service. A lesser man might think I was throwing darts at him, but Charlie would know better. Charlie always tries to be at whatever ministry St. Alban’s has undertaken. Whether it is AFM, Community Meal, entertaining us at the Renewal of Vows, working on the grounds, or any number of other ministry opportunities, Charlie is there. Charlie is always diving in to help others. His interruption, however, helped to make one of the points of this week’s Gospel. Of what am I talking? I was describing the illness called leprosy. I was describing the putrid smell, the physical deformities, and the utter sense of isolation and abandonment that often accompanies the disease. The numbness, the stink, the fear seen in the eyes of others can often lead to mental illness and, unfortunately, even suicide.

     In the Ancient Near East, the stigma of the disease was far worse than anything you or I could imagine. Most priests in the ANE were the possessors of the "secret" cures for the disease. People would come to them, pay them, and hope that the cure would work. It was a great racket, to be sure, much like some of our infamous faith healers today. If the cure for a skin disease worked, fame spread and money flowed into temple coffers. If it failed, well the one being healed had done something really bad to offend the gods.

     In Israel, the disease was considered God’s disease. The first mention of it occurs when Miriam, Moses’ sister, decides that Moses is just too uppity. She leads the people in rebellion against Moses. Unfortunately for her, her brother really was God’s anointed prophet, and so she actually led the people of Israel in revolt against God. Her punishment was leprosy. Unlike their fellow priests in the ANE, Israel’s priests could not cure leprosy.  The had no magic, no arcane rituals to give hope to the afflicted.  They could only identify the disease. Two entire chapters of Leviticus (13-14) are devoted to identifying the disease. If a priest of Israel determined that someone sufered from leprosy, the person was cast out of the assembly (Lev. 13, Num. 5). The disease made the infected religiously impure. And such a person could give their religious impurity to others.  So, for the good of the community, the individual was expelled from the assembly.  Possibly because of the view that the disease came from God and because of the fact that one afflicted with the disease was religiously impure, it is the only disease whose healing must be witnessed by others. Until the priests, who had cast the afflicted out, pronounced the leper clean, the leper could not rejoin society.

     Do we really understand the plight of the leper in ancient Israel, as Charlie groaned on Sunday? I doubt it. We have no disease that cuts people off from community, that abandons people in the way that leprosy did in the ANE. To be sure, the Black Plague likely had the same effect at first, probably AIDS, maybe even some others. But there are very few conditions which cause us to treat people as lepers were treated. Except maybe in our own hearts.
Think of the servant ministry that you hate the most. Maybe it is the Community Meal in July and August when those homeless men and women have not showered in the wonderful heat and humidity--their smell makes you long for “wet dog.” Perhaps it is the AFM person who comes in and does not know the meaning of the word “toothbrush” or “mouthwash”-- their breath is enough to make you want to live downwind of a paper mill or oatmeal factory. Maybe it is the AIDS victim in a hospital or hospice--whom you believe is rightly afflicted by God for past transgressions. Maybe it is the alcoholic or heroin addict -- whose very wasting away terrifies you. Maybe it is the chain smoker -- whom you know might cough up a lung on you at any moment. Each of has the terrible phobias and judgments which prevent us from being that light, that healer, that messenger of God which we are called to be. And, far too often, our judgments are merely behavior rationalizations. The smell might rub off and I am going out to dinner or meeting friends. The addict might try and steal from me to support their behavior. What if I catch the disease? We are amazing in our ability to try and withhold God’s grace.

     Jesus’ behavior teaches us an important lesson. He never condemns the leper or any other diseased person for that matter. Jesus knows that humanity is sorely afflicted. He, better than anyone else who has walked the face of the earth, knows the consequence and the cost of sin. Better than anyone else, He knows the healing power of God. He cures the sick, He strengthens the enfeebled, He casts out unclean spirits, He restores the outcasts, and He returns them all to community, to relationships, and to His service of others! He understands that people are not pollutants.

     Brothers and sisters, you and I are called to carry that Good News and that healing to the ends of the earth. The very people that we wish the least to share His message with are the very people in our lives who may need to hear it the most! They, of all people, understand the consequences of the afflictions. They, better than most, understand just how broken they are. They, better than nearly all of us, truly understad the need for a Savior. Do we get the picture, as Charlie said? I suppose our responses to others in the coming days, weeks, and months will be a testimony to us. Pray to God for the grace to go, not where you will, but where He will, not to whom you will, but to whom He wills. Pray to be that person whose presence, whose touch, whose words of the healing and hope found in Christ Jesus, restores another to His presence and ushers in the Kingdom in the life of the lost.
Peace,
Brian†