4 Lent A March 30, 2014 Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie Guengerich Hutson
1 Samuel 16: 1-13 + Psalm 23 + John 9: 1-41
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Good Shepherd, who loves all of the sheep. Amen.
Those who preach in our corner of Creation this week are faced with one burning question: Where is God? It is asked in the area around Oso, as an echoed question throughout time. Where is God? Throughout the Bible it is asked: Where is God? We heard it in last week’s reading from Exodus as the people of God were being led through the wilderness: “Is the Lord among us or not?” It has been heard in countless places but almost always after unimaginable, unbearable tragedy and devastation: Where is God? They asked outside of Sandy Hook Elementary School. Where is God? They asked in the hallways of Columbine High School. Where is God? they asked in the path of the devastation of hurricanes and tornadoes and floods too numerous to name. Where is God? They asked at Hiroshima. Is God with us or not? they asked on September 11th. Where is God? they are asking as they sift through the rubble, refuse, and remains in Oso.
This is not a question that is only asked when there is a shared disaster or tragedy. It is asked in the particular individual difficulties and tragedies we experience. Where is God when we lose our jobs, or our friends die, or our loved ones leave us, or we get the diagnosis we had feared?
Is the Lord among us or not?
So where does a preacher begin? How can I gather with you, oh beloved people of God, brothers and sisters in Christ, and even begin to answer the question of God’s presence in the face of the tragedy that continues to unfold in Oso?
The truth is, I can’t answer the question. But I can ask it with you. I can come with you, boldly before the throne of God and ask “What the …?” Because that’s all I’ve got this morning. And in truth, it’s usually how I talk to God when I’m confused and angry.
And I’m a bit confused and angry this week. Especially as I start to see the pictures of babies and grandmothers and loving couples appear in the news. Especially as I hear the story of the woman who was found in her car, buried in the mud. The rescuers stopped so that her brothers, who were frantically searching for her, could be the ones to carry her body out of that car. Especially when the numbers, that are hard right now at 17, are going to rise.
Is the Lord among us or not?
For those of us who believe that the answer to this question is Yes, we have an accounting to give to one another. It is our task on these dark days, in these confusing times, with tragedy as our companion, it is our task to tell the story again. To remind one another of God’s faithfulness in the past and to believe together that God has not forsaken God’s people. And in reminding one another we believe it again ourselves.
Today’s Gospel reading is the story of one man’s tragedy, his difficult journey in life. He has been blind for his whole life, unable to see the seasons as they change, or his family, or friends or the places around him. And the disciples ask Jesus why. Well, more specifically they ask Jesus whether the man was blind because of his own sin or because of the sin of his parents. For the Hebrew people, it was understood that the sins of the parents would be held against their children…that however the parents had sinned, it would be the children who would pay.
That’s stupid, right? Who believes that?
The people who need to believe that, are the ones who believe it. The people who are looking for a reason, for an explanation, for some way of understanding the tragedy or the difficulty they are witnessing, it’s as good of an explanation as they can come up with for why this man is born blind.
And hear what Jesus said: “neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of the one who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
Now, I want to move into what Jesus is saying carefully here. I have said before that I don’t believe in a chess playing God, moving us about like pawns on a board, into and out of tragedy and triumph. The disasters and tragedies of this life are, quite simply, a part of life. Anne Lamott says that “life holds beauty, magic, and anguish” and we all know this to be true. Within each of those, within the beauty and within the magic and within the anguish….there is God.
Stories pour out of every catastrophe, redemptive stories of people coming to the aid of other people. Tragedy brings out the best in us….do you remember the days and even weeks that followed 9/11? People were nice. They were nice in big ways, as they opened their homes and hearts and they were nice in small ways….as they smiled at each other on the bus or let others go first in the checkout line.
But as soon as the story leaves the news cycle, some of us forget the pain. Not everyone. Not those whose lives are forever marked by the day. But the rest of us forget too soon.
And I think that’s a mistake. Because we will never truly forget the pain when it is a part of us, it’s a mistake to forget it too quickly when it passes through our lives as well. Our pain will open us up to the pain of others. When we remember our past pain, we are moved into the present pain of our sisters and brothers, those known to us and those who are strangers.
Pain also reminds us of our own powerlessness. Those people in Oso were powerless against half of a mountain. Those children in that classroom were powerless against a heavily armed, mentally ill shooter. And in that moment of awareness, when we know that we are powerless against many things in this world, it is our pain that makes us aware of God’s presence.
And so Jesus reminds us that even in our pain and even in our lament we too must work the works of the one who sent him. Summer Raffo’s brothers continue their work in Oso even after finding their sister. A hot dog vendor from Lake Stevens gave away 1000 hot dogs to hungry rescue workers.
And here’s the other important piece for us, here today. There is difficulty and tragedy and need in our own neighborhood. There are families who cannot afford housing. There are people who have no food and have no way to get to the nearest food pantry, which is forty two blocks from here. And for these people, these are their daily struggles, their own burdens, the small yet so large tragedies.
So how shall we respond? We cannot continue to turn away and look away and pretend that their needs don’t concern us. Those needs aren’t as newsworthy as the Oso slide but they are very, very present. And Jesus is clear, we must work the works of the One who sent him. We don’t get to take a pass.
And so, on this day my sisters and brothers I have no answers for the why of disaster, but I can say with certainty that God is with us… as Good Shepherd, as miracle worker, as grieving partner in Creation. And on this day, I am reminded that we are often the ones who are blind – who cannot see the need that is all around us, present with us. And ironically, we need Jesus to do what he did with the man born blind. We need Jesus to take mud, to take the lessons learned in tragedy, and open our eyes.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
I invite you to take a few moments of silence for prayer and reflection with me. We will stand and sing the hymn of the day when the worship leaders stand.