prayer

Still on Tiptoe, 150 Years Later

A sermon preached at the Community of St. John Baptist in Mendham, NJ, celebrating the 150th Anniversary of the Arrival of the Sisters from England to found the Community of St. John Baptist in America, February 5, 1874. The scriptures are Deuteronomy 11:8-12,26-27, 2 Corinthians 5:17-6:2, and Luke 3:15-16, 21-22.

St. John Baptist House at 233 E. 17th St., between 1877 and 1880.

When I was in college, I somehow came across the translation of the Bible known as the New English Bible, and it quickly became my favorite. What I love about this version (which was used mostly in England, from the 1960s until it was updated in 1989 as the Revised English Bible), was that the translators used the “dynamic equivalence” principle for translating. This meant that instead of translating word for word, they aimed to put the meaning of a phrase into the vernacular, while maintaining the essence of the message. This makes for some wonderful turns of phrase.

For example, in Jeremiah 20, when Jeremiah feels let down, if not double-crossed by God, the New English Bible has him say, “O Lord, thou hast duped me, and I have been thy dupe; thou hast outwitted me and hast prevailed.” (Jeremiah 20:7)

Psalm 104 includes the beautiful verse, “Here is the great immeasurable sea, in which move creatures beyond number. Here ships sail to and fro, here is Leviathan whom thou hast made thy plaything.” (Psalm 104:26)

But I especially love the New English Bible’s translation of the beginning of today’s Gospel. Just a few minutes ago, we heard the passage begin, “As the people were filled with expectation.” That’s clear enough. It’s direct. We understand it.

But the New English Bible announces, “The people were on the tiptoe of expectation, all wondering about John….” (Luke 3:15)

The “tiptoe of expectation.” I love that. It’s so easy to picture. We’ve all stood on tiptoe, perhaps to see over other people; maybe to reach up high for something. The other day, I was standing on tiptoe to try to pull a bit of pine garland down from up high in the choir of the church, where the garland would have been happy to proclaim Christmas all through Lent and into Easter.

The people who heard John the Baptist and were really listening, were doing so on tiptoe, as they remained grounded, but at the same time, stretched forward and up, eager for something new. They were grounded in the Hebrew scriptures. They knew the prophets and were waiting for a Messiah. But with John’s preaching, they begin to listen with new ears and look with new eyes to discern if John might be, in fact, that Messiah, or maybe the new Elijah, pointing the way. John, of course, is clear about his role, and he tells them, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” But that must have made his listeners even more curious, as they looked and leaned even more.

One hundred and fifty years ago, when Sr. Frances Constance, Sr. Fanny, and Sr. Emma left Clewer for America, they surely must have been on the tiptoe of expectation. They were grounded in Jesus Christ, in the Church, and in Community. But they were really reaching forward, leaning forward, moving forward. Sr. Helen Margaret was on spiritual tiptoe, as she so wanted to join them, but wasn’t able to do so until a year later. And yet, Sr. Helen Margaret’s vision and prayer, enabling her to dream with God, was able to make her family’s home available at 220 Second Avenue.

Also looking and praying ahead was Mother Harriet Monsell, Mother Superior, who, a little like Moses, could imagine the future, but understood her role was in supporting, equipping, encouraging, and sending forth. Like Moses, she must have warned the sisters, “The land you’re about to enter into is not like here. But I remind you of the blessing of God, and if you are faithful, know that you, too, will be a blessing.”

In his Second Letter to the Corinthians St. Paul reminds us that the “old place” or the “new place” should be irrelevant if we are, in fact, continually being made new in Christ. Just as God’s Spirit is always and everywhere doing something new, don’t take this for granted, he reminds us. Don’t assume the Spirit will manifest just like the old days. Instead, “now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!”

What does this mean for us?

Well, in part, I think it means that this 150th commemoration should not so much be an occasion for plaques or memorials. It’s not a retirement party. It SHOULD be a renewal, a recommitment, as we all seek to follow Christ on the tiptoe of expectation.

As for the people who listened to John the Baptist and then met and followed Jesus, our calling is to be grounded while being open to the future.

We’re grounded in community, in prayer, in the Rule, in the Church, in the heart of Jesus Christ. But stretching forward, we are listening. We are looking. We are open and receiving of those who long for the love of God, especially those who aren’t even aware of their longing.

As Mother Harriet wrote to the sisters heading for America, I think her words apply to us, as well. She wrote, “[But] you have opened your soul to take in the life of God, and now He will lead you on, as and how He wills. My heart and prayers are with you.”

Let us be strengthened and encouraged that “the heart and prayers” of Mother Harriet, all the sisters, and all the saints surround us as they watch our faithfulness, on the tiptoe of expectation.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

More into Healing

A sermon for the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, February 4, 2024. The scriptures are Isaiah 40:21-31, Psalm 147:1-12, 21c, 1 Corinthians 9:16-23, and Mark 1:29-39.

Yesterday was a somewhat obscure date on the church calendar—unless you might happen to be a singer, an actor, or someone else who relies on their voice.  February 3 is the day for commemorating St. Blase, a fourth century bishop and physician in Sebaste, a part of present day Turkey.  As a doctor, Blase was known to have a particular gift of healing when it came to objects stuck in the throat, such as a chicken bone fish bone.  And so, on his day, throats are sometimes blessed, often with a special contraption made of two candles.  An opera singer used to always come to the church I served on St. Blase’s Day, and she affirms that in all her years of singing, she has never missed a performance due to a sore throat!

When we think about healing, we’re moving into complicated territory.  So many things come together when one feels healing—medicine, general condition of the body, the state of the soul, the community, the general condition of one’s surroundings, one’s emotional condition (whether one is worried, or anxious, or free of such burdens).  And then there is God—God stepping into our world in some way, making a miracle, and doing the unexpected, unearned, unmerited, unpredictable thing.

What we do does not replace a medical doctor.  It doesn’t make up for eating a balanced diet, getting some exercise and generally trying to live a good life.  We do not deal in superstition and we don’t offer magic.  What we offer is sacramental—a blessed combination of prayer and touch and love.  This is what the church of Jesus Christ offers when it offers healing:  it offers prayer, touch and love.

In today’s Gospel, Simon Peter’s mother-in-law is healed by Jesus.  He takes her by the hand, lifts her up and the fever leaves her.  Later that same day, people bring to Jesus those who are sick and those who have demons. The sick and the possessed were not allowed in the synagogue or the temple.   These were people who had run out of options.  They didn’t have anywhere else to turn, and so they turned to Jesus.  And he healed them.  Jesus then continues to heal throughout Galilee, in the towns and in the synagogues.  Praying, touching and loving.

Jesus healed people from sickness and from demons.  But he also healed them from and with their surroundings.  He healed public reaction to those who were feared because they were sick, feared because they were different, feared because society had labeled them “unclean.”  I wonder if we ever need that kind of healing, when we encounter another who is sick?  How do we respond to the sick?  What do we say to someone who is newly diagnosed?  What do we say when someone’s treatments are not going well?

So often, if we’re not careful, unconsciously we can begin to pull back, and to move away ever so slightly.  We might justify our distance by saying that we don’t want to say anything stupid, or we think our friend might just need a little space.

But the way of healing (for Jesus and for us) is to move forward.

Jesus always moves toward people—into their neighborhoods, into their homes, into their lives with prayer, touch and love.

Prayer is the first part, and it may seem like the easy part, but it’s the foundation, and we’ll lose our nerve to go any further if we are grounded in prayer.  When I pray for someone to get better or to be healed, I try really hard to be honest with God.  I know that part about “praying that God’s will would be done above all,” but I’m honest when I pray for someone and I ask God to make the person better, to take away the sickness, to make the person strong again.  One way I pray for another’s healing is simply to picture the person in the fullness of health—vibrant, happy, at ease.  That image of the person becomes my prayer as I hold that image in my mind for a minute or two and then imagine the person being that healthy and happy person in the presence of God.

We offer prayer as a part of healing, but we also offer touch.  The touch part of healing has to do with proximity.  Mindful that we live in a complicated age, I’m not for a moment suggesting that we smother one another in hugs and holds.  Touch can be as exclusive as it can be inclusive.  But there are many, many ways of showing physical presence while allowing for personal space. 

Closeness has as much to do with an open posture, with eye contact, with fewer words and with more deeply hearing ears.

We pray, we touch, and with the two, if we’re about healing, then we offer love.  Love can be accepting and warm and soothing.  And sometimes it just needs to be present in calm, quiet ways.  But sometimes love is louder and tougher and more direct.  Soft love for an addict is called enabling.   Love always, always, always has to do with the truth.

And finally, healing often goes beyond what we first see.

With Simone Crockett’s revision of our stained glass window booklet and with the publication of George Bryant’s on Henry Holiday, I’ve been looking closer than ever at our stained glass windows. The central window over the main altar is one I usually refer to as Christ raising Lazarus in the upper section and Jesus raising the blind man.  But there’s more.  Some entitle the window, “Christ the consoler,” and note that to the upper left is the raising of Jairus’s daughter. And the bottom tier has all kinds of people in need. They represent anyone who comes to Christ.

May the Spirt help us to assist in God’s ongoing work of healing, to pray, to move closer to people, and to love as best we can.

With the help of St. Blase and all the saints, may we be healed through Jesus the Great Physician, and may we offer this healing to the world.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.