Monday, February 13, 2012

February 12, 2012 Reflection by Rev. David Boyd


Scripture: Mark 1:40-45

World Leprosy Day was held on January 29th. When I first became aware of World Leprosy Day several years ago, I was astounded that leprosy was still so rampant in our world. Leprosy, also known as Hansen's disease today after the Norwegian doctor who first saw the bacillus under a microscope, was a catch-all for skin diseases in the time of Jesus. What is now known as leprosy is caused by a bacteria. The bacterium attacks nerve endings and destroys the body's ability to feel pain and injury. Without pain, people easily become injured and the injuries become infected, tissue is lost and the bone destroyed. Leprosy is air-borne and is transmitted through sneezing and coughing although apparently only 5% of the population have no natural immunity to the bacteria.

In Canada there are about 500 people who have been diagnosed with leprosy. Every 22 minutes a child, woman or man will be diagnosed with leprosy. The cure is very much available, but the problem is that this disease, like many in our world, is wrapped up in the problem of poverty. And it is still wrapped up in stigma and alienation; leprosy patients, many of them undiagnosed, continue to be alienated by their families and their community and ostracized. It would seem that we haven't progressed very far since the time of Jesus. Amazingly, the cost to care for and cure a leprosy patient is a mere $350!

Just a few weeks ago, health leaders of the USA, the United Kingdom and the United Arab Emirates, pharmaceutical executives, and leaders of Non-Governmental Organizations held a conference in London, England, and endorsed what is called The London Declaration on Neglected Tropical Diseases. A commitment has been given to end the travesty of ignoring 10 tropical diseases, which can be cured. The goal is to eradicate these diseases by 2020. Leprosy is one of these diseases. I hope that our Canadian government is involved in this world wide mission.

On one of the websites where I was doing some research into leprosy, someone said that we fear what we perceive to be ugly. One of the effects of many of the diseases listed by the London Declaration is that they leave disfigurement. The Rev. Dr. Sharon Betcher, a Vancouver School of Theology professor, in a recent Observer article and in her lectures at Ascension Lutheran Church a couple of years ago, talked about her own disfigurement, or at least how she has been perceived by others. Sharon lost a leg in a farming accident when she was young. I've heard stories of how people who have lost limbs are treated as simple-minded by others; people with physical challenges are often ostracized by others. They are ignored by children on the playground at best and at worst, driven away. Do some of you remember the book, A Prayer for Owen Meany, written some years ago by John Irving, the American writer? Owen was a boy who had physical challenges and while he was befriended by one of the main characters of the book, he was ostracized by most of the other children and even by his own family. It is a generalization, I know, but we often fear what we perceive to be less than perfect and whole and we marginalize people who do not fit into our narrowly defined concept of what is perfect!

Some years ago we read a book in our Thursday morning book group called Beauty: Rediscovering the True Sources of Compassion, Serenity and Hope. It was by John O'Donohue, a Celtic writer from Ireland who died 4 years ago at the end of 52. O'Donohue challenged those who would define beauty based on skin-deep definitions; he challenged the Hollywood concept of beauty. It was a book that helped us all delve underneath our skin-deep definitions to truly discover what beauty is. Beauty is compassion, beauty is love, beauty knows that we are all created by God; beauty is gentleness and somehow opens us to an experience of the sacred. Singers like Cyndi Lauper and Edie Brickell, among others have asked questions about who we define as beautiful? I think that O'Donohue followed in Jesus' footsteps in terms of helping us re-define what is beautiful, and both challenge us to see that beauty comes from the inside.
Notice in the story from Mark's Gospel that Jesus didn't fear what others feared. Jesus reached out and touched the leper, a huge taboo. Jesus himself would have been made unclean. But that was Jesus' genius; he transcended these human taboos, exposing the fear and manipulation that are part of these so-called cleanliness taboos. As has been true for thousands of years, it was usually the poor and the powerless who time and again were found to be unclean. The rich and powerful had the means to place themselves in positions where they would not be declared unclean, the story of Naaman in 1Kings, being the exception rather than the rule. Jesus restored the balance, advocating for the poor and the ostracized, giving power to those deemed on the outside and without power. In short, Jesus practiced salvation.

As Marcus Borg and Richard Rohrbaugh recently pointed out at Epiphany Explorations, and has been known for some time, the understanding of salvation isn't about being saved from this world into a heavenly world; salvation is much more broadly defined than our more fundamentalist leaning brothers and sisters would insist. Salvation is about being healed, about being restored to one's community, about being restored to the people of God and about being counted as one who is loved by God, a child of God and with honour.

Salvation literally means saving someone from peril, as in saving someone from drowning or saving a city from destruction by a foreign army. It also means keeping, as in keeping alive or like keeping a fire going for warmth and life. It means benefitting another, as in preserving the well-being of another or a group. It also means preserving the inner being, as in preserving one's humanity and basic dignity. All of these things are at play when we use the word salvation; notice, though, that these are present things. Salvation isn't about going to heaven and being preserved for some future benefit; the benefit is now. With a particular ending in Greek, salvation takes on the meaning of widening or making roomy. I like that idea.
Jesus broadened the world in which he lived. He made the room big—God's room or God's house—and then invited people inside. Or he reminded the world that God's place is a big place for it is this place and all are welcome in this place, this large, roomy place. There is room for lepers and those who are sick. There is room for the broken and poor. There is a large room where there are no categories, where we can just simply be... be together in love... be together in hope... be together in peace... be together for we are all beautiful.

Jesus broadens our world today and invites us into this roomy place where we already are. There is no narrowness in this place. We are like the doorkeepers who throw open the door and welcome everyone inside. Sometimes we have to step out onto the streets and demand that healing drugs be made available to all people as a human right. Sometimes we need to stand in the street and shout peace or stand together as human beings advocating peace. Salvation is a participatory concept; it is given by God to all, but it is not static. It invites response and action.

"Today," said Jesus a number of times in the Gospels, "Salvation has come to this house." Salvation has come so let us fling wide the doors and go out to the highways and the byways and share our lives in making wide this world so that all will know the benefit of love and hope.

May it be so, not just for those who live with leprosy today, but for us all!

Amen.


February 5, 2012 Reflection by Rev. David Boyd



There is a tradition within Judaism, reflected in the prophets and wisdom teachers, that is called tikkun olam. It has become the name of the magazine and web community, Centre for Spiritual Progressives, begun by Rabbi Michael Lerner. It means healing, or mending, the world. The prophets and wisdom teachers, many of the psalms and many of the ancient stories of Judaism, speak of God as the Creator, the One who is Being of the universe. In particularities, this understanding is reflected in hospitality shown to the stranger, care of others, and welcome of the other as if that other were God in the flesh, all of which point to the universality of the God of Moses and Miriam.

Tikkun olam was embodied in Jesus of Nazareth, a Jew, and lives on in the Body of Christ today. I believe that this impetus to mend the world is what is reflected in the reading from Mark's gospel. There is another Jewish belief that by healing one life, or by saving one life, you save and heal the whole world. Jesus embodied this idea that I and thou are together one; there is no separation between I and thou, between you and me, between me and the someone on the other side of the globe. As one part of the creation suffers, so we all suffer. Jesus embodied this in his life and teachings.

One of the struggles we have in western thinking is that we want to compartmentalize things. I believe that this impetus to see our communal natures is growing again; having said that, I also believe that there is still a great deal of individualization that takes place. Health care may be an interesting case in point. In a place like Nelson, I think that the manner in which we view health care is changing. We are emphasizing the communal aspects of health care. We also know that when one of us is hurting, we all hurt in some way. We also know that our own health and recovery depends upon the love and support that we experience from others.

There was an interesting piece on the news last Wednesday night. It was about the effects of massage therapy. There have been some studies done to show that massage therapy blocks or inhibits the inflammation process. And of course, as we know, massage requires another's participation in our well-being. Knowing that we are held and supported by others is important to our well-being. It was certainly important to me when I took time off to seek wholeness in the midst of depression.

We make a common mistake when we come to the healing stories of Jesus. We think of them in individualistic terms. More often than not, the healing involved an important social dimension. In Jesus' day, disease was often seen as a spiritual problem and so people were ostracized when they were illÑmore on this next week when hear stories of leprosy in the Bible. It was thought that they had brought calamity on themselves because they had done something wrong. Because of this, the thought was that this wrong was infectious and others would be caught up in it. This is the communal nature of illness in Jesus' day, and perhaps still in ours today. In providing healing, sometimes the most important part was the restoration of the ill individual to the community, removing the stigma and the ostracization.

Whether our best friend or a family member is ill, or whether suffering happens as a result of the soccer riots in Egypt, or mining practices in Central America or Africa or here in Canada, or when suffering happens in 1st Nations communities or with indigenous peoples, we all suffer. And so we come together... to pray, to hold one another, to speak words of compassion, to heal, to advocate, to stand up, to love. Our prayer list, which includes not just those near and dear to us but also includes situations and people not so well known to us around the world, is long. And that's a celebration. As a community we embrace one another's pain and struggle and seek healing in its fullness. We seek tikkun olam.
In truly living compassion, we live the intention of the literal meaning of the Hebrew word. We take the struggle for healing and wholeness into our beings, into our wombs as women, into our guts as men, and new life is delivered. It is about new life; it is about holding and creation. It is about deep concern and seeking the common good, the common welfare, the healing of the planet.

Let me end with a prayer/poem by Janet Morley that I think gets at this idea of compassion and tikkun olam; I've shared this before, but it is deeply moving:
and you held me and there were no words
and there was no time and you held me
and there was only wanting and
being held and being filled with wanting
and I was nothing but letting go
and being held
and there were no words and there
needed to be no words
and there was no terror only stillness
and I was wanting nothing and
it was fullness and it was like aching for God
and it was touch and warmth and
darkness and no time and no words and we flowed
and I flowed and I was not empty
and I was given up to the dark and
in the darkness I was not lost
and the wanting was like fullness and I could
hardly hold it and I was held and
you were dark and warm and without time and
without words and you held me 

"And you held me", from All Desires Known by Janet Morley, Movement for the Ordination of Women, 1988, page 56.
Amen.