I went
to the 181st Convention of the Diocese of Indianapolis hoping for
inspiration, education, opportunity and both the strengthening of and creation
of relationships this weekend. I was not disappointed. I hope your delegates,
Margy and Cecelia, feel the same.
I went
there having spent little time studying or reflecting on today’s lessons. I had spent enough time to know that these
lessons are not the most uplifting and can illicit some frightening
images. So I really hoped that something
we would experience would influence what I would talk with you about today.
The
lessons today tell us a lot about how humans respond to natural disasters and
war. Especially in Biblical times, just
the thought of flood or fire or earthquake or drought or war could make an
individual think the world was coming to an end.
We
aren’t immune to any of these natural disasters today, either. If you are like me, you know of someone or
someone who knows someone who has been affected by the fires in California in
these past couple of weeks. Maybe you
have a loved one who has been in the path of one of the hurricanes of recent
months. And these events can sure seem
to be signs that the world is coming to an end!
Being
in a landlocked state, we may think we have no reason to fear natural disasters
like those, but I remember the first summer we lived here and the tornadoes
that ripped through the state and the flooding that came with the abundant rain
and that ice storm that left motorists stranded on the highway for hours.
We
certainly have experience with weather, and we learn when to be afraid, how to
be prepared for catastrophe or power outages, we learn when to take cover or when
to flee danger.
And
even if we know that dangerous weather does not mark the beginning of the end of
time or know that this is not some form of punishment from God, there are other
times, like now, when those fires in California can make us sit up and take
notice.
Maybe we
should pay attention. Maybe we need to
think more about our own responsibility and complicity in the depth of the
destruction that has been experienced during hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and
fires. Perhaps we should reconsider where
we live and how we build and how we take care of creation to learn more about
why the earth seems to be crying out.
Jesus
calls times like these moments of birthing.
He said that times like these, with threats of war, natural disasters
and that being led astray from God are the beginnings of the birth pangs.
These
are the beginnings of life-giving change.
I’m sure most of you know that as devastating as a forest
fire can be, fire is needed for some plants to thrive. There are pinecones that are so tightly sealed
shut by natural resins that only a fire can melt the resin to expose the seeds
within. Having laid dormant for many years,
these seed will only sprout after a fire.
I don’t know if many of you know that there are also other
seeds that cannot germinate unless they burn.[1] The seeds of some varieties of shrubs have
such a tough coating that only a fire will break them open.
Flooding is good for farm land because it provides nutrients
that may have been lacking in the soil; while the winds from a hurricane can
distribute topsoil more evenly; and a volcano will provide nutrients to the
soil, may bring precious gemstones to the surface and release chemicals into
the air that help the water cycle.[2]
Even war has some unique benefits, like bringing survivors
together and seeing them become more engaged in civil and political activities. There are studies that have learned survivors
of war can be found to be more cooperative and more willing to help their
neighbor.[3]
While we may fear natural disasters and war, we may mourn
what is lost or we might worry about what is potentially lost, these tragedies,
these birth pangs, are necessary for new birth.
And new birth is often messy and painful and something that
will change the world as we know it.
So I was at convention, hoping to find some insight into
these lessons and what I heard Saturday morning, in our Bishop’s address were
these words: “We
will not retreat in fear.”
Ah. In the midst of change it is sometimes so
much easier to hide or run away or dismiss it so that we don’t have to admit
that we are afraid of change.
Bishop
Jennifer is challenging us to take a risk and to change.
Now, we’ve
been doing a lot of soul searching and listening to God and discerning who we
are which is resulting in making changes within our faith community. But what about taking it a step, or many
steps, further and being willing to change ourselves so that we are equipped to
walk out into the world to share the peace of Christ to our neighbors?
The keynote
speaker, Dwight Zscheile, from Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota (yes, he
was one of my professors) challenged us to do just that. Go outside of the convention center in pairs
and see what we could learn about the neighborhood directly surrounding where
we were. We were instructed to take
photos that tell the story of Bloomington, Indiana, so that we could learn more
about who our neighbors are and how we can be their neighbors.
This
exercise was designed to help us dwell in the Word, to dwell in the world, as
Christians walking the Way of Jesus.
There
was a lot to see in that part of Bloomington, as we learned when we looked at
one another’s photos.
 |
| I also saw a variety of international restaurants, |
abandoned sleeping bags and blankets, graffiti and
art. There were two women pushing
strollers that held four kids each and I made faces at the children. Drivers honked their horns at one another, ambulances
whisked by with their sirens blowing and lights flashing. Scooters were available on every street. There were construction sites and day cares
and people smiling and people deep within their own thoughts.
And there
was Holy Peace amongst all the sounds and lights and sights and smells.
In so many
ways we see the scary and the dangerous and we become afraid, but our Gospel
and our Bishop reminded me that there is more to it than that.
We live in
constant change. There are always birth
pangs to be felt. Risks to take. Uncertainties.
AND there
is also a vibrant, hopeful, bold life around us like I witnessed on a 20-minute
walk around Bloomington on a Friday afternoon.
It would be
sad to see one and not the other. To remain
in the comfortable, life-sustaining womb, and not be birthed into the
beautiful, risky unknown.
Bishop
Jennifer reminded us, challenged us, emboldened us with these words: “So hear
me clearly. We will not retreat in fear.
Instead, we will move forward with a bold witness and a radical welcome to
share the loving, liberating, and life-giving ways of Jesus.”
Yes,
Bishop, I believe we will. With God’s abiding
love for all of creation, for each of us, with God’s help, yes, we will.
Amen.
