Sunday, 1 July 2018

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost ---- 1 July 2018


Happy Canada Day!
This sermon was delivered to both Trinity Anglican and St. John's Evangelical Lutheran Churches on Sunday, July 1. It is lengthy and not entirely my own words. It simply struck me as important to tell both congregations that the church is God's and is a gift to them. All growth comes from God.

Mark 5:21-43
21 When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. 22 Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23 and begged him repeatedly, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live." 24 So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. 25 Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26 She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. 27 She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28 for she said, "If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well." 29 Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30 Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?" 31 And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, "Who touched me?' " 32 He looked all around to see who had done it. 33 But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." 35 While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader's house to say, "Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?" 36 But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, "Do not fear, only believe." 37 He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38 When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39 When he had entered, he said to them, "Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping." 40 And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child's father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41 He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha cum," which means, "Little girl, get up!" 42 And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43 He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.


"Do not fear, only believe."
·       I threw out my first draft of this sermon. In fact I threw out all the drafts of it. I found something better. My cousin, Kevin, in Maryland in the US sent me this long note, written by another Kevin – Kevin Ryan, but it’s about a relative both my cousin, Kevin and I had in common.
·         Have any of you heard of Covenant House? It started in New York as a shelter for runaway and abused teenagers founded by a Catholic priest of the Franciscan Order. Because of a sexual scandal, that priest stepped down and eventually Sr. Mary Rose McGeady of the Daughters of Charity became president.
·         In 1990, when she was asked to lead Covenant House, Sister was near the end of a storied career, already having run one of the country’s largest Catholic Charities. She had also led her religious community, the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, and was ready for a break. She declined the offer.
·         She’d heard Covenant House was struggling financially, closing hundreds of beds for kids facing homelessness across numerous countries, and was reportedly at risk of shutting down.
·         In New York City alone, more than 100 beds were eliminated (including a floor for youth infected with HIV) as were two vans that brought kids off the streets on frigid nights.
·         When a second call came asking her to lead Covenant House, she still resisted, but agreed to pray and discern some more. She confided to friends the offer was unwelcome. She had been dreaming of retirement, of less stress, of simple joys like spending time with her sisters, baking and gardening.
·         She later (said) she also wrestled with the prospect of failure - Covenant House was in grave danger in 1990. What if she could not help resuscitate donors’ trust and staff morale? What if she spent the next five years of her life shuttering buildings, closing beds and laying off staff? She thought some more and said no, again.
·         But the faces of kids living on the streets tore at her heart as the days wore on. Joe Sullivan, her confidant and Brooklyn’s auxiliary bishop, appealed to her and asked her to say yes, and she finally relented. “OK God,” she wrote in her journal, “here we go.”
·         The New York Times put the news on its front page. She plunged in. Come hell or high water, she was determined to clean up and expand Covenant House to help more kids.
·         In a remarkable act of leadership and faith during her service as president (a few skeptics called it reckless) she insisted that a $1 million human rights prize from the Conrad Hilton Foundation be used to build a new shelter for children living on the streets in Managua, rather than establish an agency endowment.
·         That shelter at Casa Alianza Nicaragua became a bridge from the streets for thousands of children and today protects scores of unaccompanied kids from the burgeoning violence that is engulfing Nicaragua.
·         By the time Sr. Mary Rose retired from Covenant House (for real this time) in 2003, she had won over hundreds of thousands of donors and opened new shelters for youth in 11 cities, among them Oakland, Calif.; Anchorage; Orlando, Florida; Vancouver, British Columbia; and Managua, Nicaragua.
·         (She and the writer of this article) spoke often and (he) solicited her advice. (She gave it whether solicited it or not.) She usually ended the same way: “Let’s pray. We have to trust God’s providence.” (He) learned a lot from her over the years, much of it delivered with a mixture of no-nonsense wisdom, thorny assertiveness and Irish wit.
·         Once in 2010, just weeks after they’d sharply cut the budget and closed programs to address a widening budget shortfall due to the drop in donations, Covenant House received a miraculous $6 million bequest. The writer (then the president of Covenant House) was stunned.
·         [Quoting now] I called Sister, in part venting that the gift arrived weeks after I’d already shut down programs. I could not quickly rehire staff and reopen the sites. “You’re a terrible president,” she half-laughed. “For 1 thing, you closed those programs and don’t trust God’s providence. And for another thing, you’re complaining to me about a $6 million gift!”
·         In 2012, sitting with my kids at a JETS game, I received a call from Albany. Sister was dying. An inoperable infection had spread and doctors estimated she had only a few days left. Sister wanted me to come see her to say goodbye. I left the game, packed and drove to Albany where the Daughters of Charity welcomed me and let me spend the week in their guest house.
·         (A few days after my arrival), Sister was in more pain and the treatment team decided to increase her medication. I sensed a final opportunity to communicate with her. I took her hand, my eyes were wet. “You saved us, Mary Rose. Thank you, on behalf of all the kids.” But she frowned.
·         “With great effort, she removed the oxygen mask from her face so I could hear her. She was annoyed. “Covenant House wasn’t my gift to God or the kids. It was their gift to me. And it’s not your gift to God. It’s God’s gift to you.” She took several deep, raspy breaths and looked back my way. “I didn’t save Covenant House, Kevin. God did. It’s not my Covenant House. It’s not yours either. It’s God’s. You have to get out of the way and let Him use you, or it doesn’t work,” she said.”
·         “She died the next day, early on a Thursday morning in September. Patty Griffin’s We Shall All Be Reunited was playing on my phone near her pillows. I slumped my head on the bed and said goodbye. We buried her a few days later in the nuns’ cemetery, shaded by a tall statue of St. Vincent de Paul, the Catholic patron saint of the poor. We stood at the grave: her family, the Daughters of Charity, our Covenant House community and a handful of adults she had cared for as children and teenagers.”
·         “On the drive home I thought about our last conversation. I was angry she’d been tough and challenging right up to the end. But I was also angry she was right. Up to that point, no, I didn’t really trust God to keep the doors open. I often tossed and turned with anxiety at night, afraid we’d run out of money and not be able to help the kids who needed us.
·         And as painful as it was to admit to myself, Sister saw that I had let it all become the Kevin show in my head. I convinced myself I had to save Covenant House - and won’t that make God happy with me?! Back then, I imagined grace as the prize we win for impressing God. Sigh. Slow learner here.
·         So I took time - weeks really - after her funeral and dug deep to reflect on the ways our Covenant House movement was a gift to me. How the kids’ overcoming had fortified me to confront my own grief and loss. How their ability to forgive stretched my heart. How their recoveries taught me the effectiveness of, and need for, high quality mental health care. How their suffering infused me with empathy. How their hunger for family brought me closer to mine. How their rising taught me the power of unconditional love and absolute respect. How their transformations sculpted my faith.
·         Had Sister Mary Rose left me with puffy sentiment, her words might have fed my vanity, but not my soul. What sounded like pure admonishment at the time instead became my map of the world. Sort of like the voice on a navigation app that urges you to reroute.
·         And at the top of that map are three lessons I take from her life:
·         First, act with love and trust God for the rest.
·         Second, until the last homeless child is safely sheltered, do more.
·         And third, the greatest work of your life, the most audacious use of your heart and the biggest test of your faith, may well be waiting around the corner for you, just as you plan to curl up and downshift. Be ready.
·         Well, my cousin, Sr. Mary Rose McGready has both shamed me and inspired me. When I see her in the here-after, she’ll probably punch me in the chest and then give me a hug. That’s how we Irish do it.
·         I haven’t trusted God like I’ve pretended to. And I dare say neither have any of us. But we can start again. We can always start again. In the face of death, taboos, and so-called unclean people, Jesus tells the leader and tells us "Do not fear, only believe." His word can overcome what people call ‘unclean’ and can overcome death. If we trust God and walk in faith, we’ll be amazed at what God can do with our congregations. We may have to walk the unknown road. On such a road there are only two lights to follow. One light is on the next step; the other is on the final destination. Between the two is only fog… and the hand of God leading us… and the voice of Jesus, saying again and again, "Do not fear, only believe."

No comments:

Post a Comment