Rev. Betsy Aldrich Garland
February 15, 2009
2 Kings 5:1-14;
Mark 1:40-45

Creating Compassionate Community

Last November, Beneficent Church hosted my Ecclesiastical Council – the last step in my long journey toward ordination in the UCC.  As those of you who have been to an Ecclesiastical Council know, the candidates read their papers and then field questions.  We do not know, of course, what questions we will be asked.  Several weeks ahead of time, clergy friends entertained me with their own horror stories.  “You’d better bone up on your theology of atonement,” one advised.  One said she had been asked the question, “When did Jesus become the Christ?”   Another laughed and said he was going to ask me, “What was the Apostle Paul thinking on the road to Damascus?”  It’s not the sort of exam one can study for.

Our RI Conference Associate Minister Kelly knew that I had developed a Gifts Discovery Course some years ago, and so she asked me this question, “What was Jesus’ greatest gift?”   I had never thought about Jesus’ gifts before.  It wasn’t in my curriculum!  (I guess I’d better add it!)  In my mind, I began cataloguing the 20 gifts in my gifts inventory worksheet to see which one might best describe Jesus.  Leadership?  Teaching?  Hospitality?  Faith?  Under all that pressure, I couldn’t focus. 

But images of Jesus came to me – Jesus, raising a sick daughter, feeding the hungry crowds, spitting on the dust in his hands to apply mud to the eyes of a blind beggar.  “What is Jesus’ greatest gift?”  “Compassion,” I said. 

Our gospel lesson today is the story of Jesus’ cleansing a leper.  The man has no name, no life; he is a non-person, an outcast, a pariah.  He could not work, associate with people in the community, go to the synagogue.  People avoided him, kept a safe distance, were repulsed by him.  He might just as well have been dead.

But stories about Jesus have reached him.  Hope is spreading throughout Galilee.  The leper believes that Jesus has the power to heal him, to make him whole.  Desperation makes him bold:  perhaps he thinks it is his only chance, and he comes and kneels at Jesus’ feet.  “If you choose, you can make me clean,” he says.  Mark reports that Jesus is moved with pity, and he matches the leper’s boldness by stretching out his hand and touching him, “I do choose.  Be made clean!”  Jesus chooses compassion – again and again and again. 

Compassion.  From the Late Latin, com (with) + pati (to suffer), literally meaning to “suffer with” another.  It’s about feelings, to feel the suffering of another, to come together in the suffering of another.  I would suggest that it is suffering that makes us human.  We all suffer, some of us more than others.  So it is the experience and acknowledgment of our own suffering, and our own need for healing that makes it possible for us to reach out to another. 

Now, we don’t know what Jesus’ life was like before he began his ministry.  Had he suffered?  Or was his compassion a response to the anticipation of his suffering?  Surely, he must have had a foretaste of what was in store for him – if he continued to upset the powers-that-be, causing trouble for them, rousing the peasants and the countryside.    He must have suspected what was to come on the cross, as Mel Gibson so vividly portrays in his film, “The Passion of the Christ....”  To the extent that we are in touch with our own suffering, then, we are able to be in touch with another’s suffering.  And Jesus reaches out to touch the leper.        

Can you remember a particular time or an incident when you felt compassion for someone?  Reflect on that experience for a moment....   What was the greatest act of compassion from another you ever experienced?  Reflect on that experience for a moment....   And when was the last time to treated yourself with compassion?  Allowed yourself a well-deserved rest or a special treat...?  We recognize now that often caregivers suffer from “compassion fatigue,” why we need respite care facilities – and grandparents – to give families a break.

A colleague at Beneficent told me the story about when her best friend in college died very suddenly.  She was distraught.  The next day her mother, unannounced, without being asked, flew up from North Carolina to Minnesota to be with her.  Her mother must have known, in her own heart, the loss.  Feelings are the first steps to – and forerunners of – actions.

But compassion need not wait for a crisis – we can be intentionally compassionate – and practical – in the ways we look out for each other.  Compassion creates the community of love.  We’ve known for years that healthy relationships and healthy communities are what we need to keep us happy and healthy as we age.  Relationships are the building blocks of compassion. 

So, how do we do it?  How do we create community?  One person at a time; one day at a time; one kindness at a time.  You’ve seen the bumper sticker which preaches Anne Herbert’s words, “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.”  For the Christian, they don’t have to be random or senseless: 

When Alice comes home from rehab and receives a phone call, “Don’t cook, Alice; I’m on my way with a stew and a loaf of bread,” that is an act of compassion that keeps her in the embrace of the church.  When the roads are too icy for her to venture out, Louise tapes her church envelope on her front door for Jack to pick up, an act of compassion that keeps her connected as a vital member of the church. 

When teachers go off to Sunday School, when they would probably rather stay in worship, that is an act of compassion that grows the church.  When Alan spends hours attending to asbestos in the nursery so our babies will be safe, that is an act of compassion that assures the future of this church.  When Bill calls to see if he can shovel – and he, not yet a member – and when Fred and Dave take Bill under their wing at Bible Study – these are acts of compassion that enlarge the reach of the church. 

When we adopt Safe Church guidelines and standards of behavior those are acts of compassion that send a message that the vulnerable can find a haven in this church.  When we declare ourselves to be Open and Affirming, that is an act of compassion that shapes the nature of this church and positions us in the larger community as a church where everyone is welcome – whoever they are and wherever they are on life’s journey.        

In January, my partner Kim read her essay for “This I Believe” on WRNI.  Her topic?  “Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what little girls are made of.”  But she didn’t feel nice.  She had a secret; he had warned her not to tell.  Kim’s daring to voice her truth about being sexually abused brought emails from perfect strangers, and “May I talk to you?” phone calls and office visits from women she knows well.

Compassion brings healing and unites us and creates community.   “I do choose,” Jesus says.  And so can we.

When I visited the David family this week, Renée shared with me that the babies were growing bigger and stronger and that they might be home soon.  I thought about my bringing home one baby, let alone two preemies!  And with a lively almost three-year-old to care for at the same time.  Oh my word, I thought!  Quick, get some sleep now!  What can this congregation do to help?  We talked about it at Deacons’ meeting this week, at least helping with meals.  Renée said that would mean a lot.  I asked her and Kristin for a list of what else we might do for them.  Rock a fussy baby?  Offer to baby sit (I suggest we go two at a time) so the moms go out for dinner?  Pay attention to Jay who undoubtedly will feel upstaged by his two new sisters?  We don’t need to wait for a crisis.  We can choose intentionally to be compassionate.  And we surely have been, haven’t we?

But our compassion doesn’t need to be bounded by the church walls.  Tonight, 40 Barrington High School students will hear from advocates for the homeless and sleep on a church floor in downtown Providence.  Early tomorrow morning, they will walk down to Beneficent Church where they will make and serve breakfast and lunch to several hundred hungry and homeless. They will be cold when they are dishing up oatmeal and soup to a long line of people in the parking lot.  They will begin to wonder what it is like to live on the street.  Hopefully, it will be the stirrings of compassion, at least for some of them.  We can create compassionate community in our young people.

And here at Edgewood?  It will be helpful to remember that Jesus didn’t stay in Nazareth to create compassionate community.  He was everywhere:  On the mountain. Throughout Galilee.  In a boat on the Sea.  Across the River Jordan into Gentile countryside.  On his way to Jerusalem.

So let’s not stay “buttoned up” by ourselves:  The Spirit calls us to proclaim compassionate community into the neighborhood, all the way to the bay, in search of those who need God’s healing presence and the Peace of Christ.  The Spirit calls us to proclaim it north on Broad Street to Washington Park and Providence and south to the Pawtuxet Bridge and into Warwick in search of those who need God’s healing presence and the Peace of Christ.  The Spirit calls us to proclaim compassionate community down Park Avenue in search of those who need God’s healing presence and the Peace of Christ.

“If you choose, you can heal me!” someone says with hope.  Jesus waits to hear our reply, “We do choose!”  And God’s presence and power and compassion will go before us and beside us and behind us as we venture out into the world.  

Amen.