Theological Truth: We are all in this together, whether we like it or not, admit it or not
In the name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I was serving at St. James Episcopal Church and School in Baton Rouge when Hurricane Katrina came ashore –almost twenty years ago today. After the storm had passed, I gathered with the other clergy of St. James and we began sifting through reports of the damage. As bad as things were in the communities along the Mississippi coast, we were taking some solace in the news that New Orleans seemed to have been spared. Or so it seemed. But then the levees broke, and the city filled with water. Katrina pushed what felt like much of the Atlantic and most of the Gulf of Mexico north, filling Lake Pontchartrain and eventually, most of the city. I remember watching video of helicopters attempting to fill the breach by dropping huge bags of dirt in a futile effort to stop the flow of the water. Eventually all that could be done was to wait for the water levels to equalize, then the levees could be repaired, then the city pumped out, and…perhaps…the rebuilding could begin.
As you would expect, and as is the pattern in any natural disaster, the news cycle first reported what happened and to whom it happened. From there, journalists covered why it happened. The next step, predictably, was the pointing of fingers and the assessing of blame.
Fortunately, however, finger-pointing and blame-assessing were not the only things that happened. Something else occurred—something that is also true in every natural disaster: people came together to help one another. Neighbors helped neighbors escape their homes and find higher ground. Boat owners launched their personal vessels from the side of the interstate into the flooded city, saving stranded people in a home-grown rescue effort that came to be known as the Cajun Coast Guard.
Baton Rouge tripled in size, especially after Hurricane Rita hit the western part of the state less than a month later. Every spare bed, couch, and LSU dorm room hosted someone. People spilled outdoors, turning neighborhoods into daily block parties, sharing and grilling food before it spoiled, being fed not only by meals, but by solidarity. Under the clear and faithful leadership of Fr. Mark Holland, St. James Day School accepted students without having any idea how we would find the room, the staff, or the budget. In a modern-day office-space version of the miracle of loaves and fishes, St. James found room to provide temporary offices for several churches, including the Diocese. It was the worst of times…it was the best of times.
The waters of Katrina broke us, but they also broke us open to the power of what God can do when we come together. The flood waters of Katrina turned out to be nothing compared to the flood of love, concern, prayers, support, generosity, and compassion from all over the world. The initial flood brought destruction; the subsequent flood brough restoration.
I don’t mean to minimize, glamorize or sanitize the very real suffering and loss experienced by so many people after Katrina. The historical and hidden effects of generations of racism and poverty were laid bare, exposed for all the world to see. We were all in the same storm, but it became readily apparent that we were in different boats, some better equipped to survive than others. It was the worst of times.
And it was the best of times, because the truth of Isaiah’s words became abundantly clear: “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil; if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.” (Is. 58:9b-10). Joining hands, rather than pointing fingers, brings healing. Acknowledging our shared humanity repairs the breach.
Unfortunately, sometimes it takes a shock to the system for us to remember this truth. Jesus knows that sometimes we need to be shaken to be awakened. In last week’s reading from Luke, Jesus says, “I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! … Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” (Luke 12:49-51). The events from today’s gospel about the healing in the synagogue on the sabbath, demonstrate Jesus kindling that fire and sparking that division. I wonder, “Why didn’t Jesus just wait a few hours for the sabbath to end? It’s not like the woman was on the verge of dying. She didn’t even initiate the healing. Jesus calls her over, lays his hands on her, and sets her free from her bondage. He knew that wasn’t permitted on the sabbath. Seems like he was intent on kindling some fire!
Brian Stoffregen writes, “When people are stuck in a system or a particular way of understanding, they need to be SHOCKED out of the old and into the new.” (https://www.crossmarks.com/brian/luke13x10.htm) Jesus intentionally shocks the system — stops and restarts it like those cardiac paddles in the ER — so that people can see things differently. “You’ve been lulled to sleep by the status quo,” he seems to be saying, “Wake up! This isn’t that anonymous, faceless woman whom you haven’t made eye contact with in over 18 years. This is a daughter of Abraham. This is your sister, as worthy of dignity, respect and belonging as each one of you.”
There are certainly many shocking things going on in our political, economic, and social lives today, both nationally and internationally. In fact, it seems like being shocking is the norm. We seem stuck in a predictable algorithm of “us” vs “them”, good guys against the bad guys. And while there are definitely good policies to promote and bad actors to call out, what would be most helpfully shocking would be to “remove the yoke from among [us], the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, [and instead,] offer…food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted.” In the long run, kindness and compassion speak the loudest. Gentleness is our greatest strength.
The flood waters of Katrina united us, if only imperfectly and temporarily, by bringing people together so that the Light of Christ enlightened those dark days. Today three people from Trinity enter the waters of Baptism. This deliberate decision to give themselves to die with Christ so that they may also live with him, shocks the self-centered ways of this world. It is in these sanctified waters that we are all united with Christ and one another. We remember the outrageous good news that we too are freed from the bondage of sin, we too are children of Abraham, brothers and sisters in Christ, all part of the family of God. We are shocked by the power and proximity, by the breadth and depth of God’s love for all. From this reality, we make our promises:
- To continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship
- To persevere in resisting evil
- To proclaim the Good News of God in Christ
- To seek and serve Christ in all persons
- And to strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.
From these baptismal waters, God is rebuilding the ancient ruins and repairing the breach. And we are all in this great rebuilding project together.
