Turtles and People
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
This past Wednesday night we had a full complement of supplicants asking for anointing and healing prayer at the Communion rail. Thinking back, I believe there were 6 or 7 people—and one turtle.
Yes, I said “turtle.” Carol Tolonen brought her turtle whose name is Pilgrim in for some healing prayer. And I tell you this story today with her permission. Pilgrim is being treated for some kind of infection and she’s being given antibiotics. Carol wanted some extra prayer for her pet’s healing.
On the way over to church Pilgrim cut one of her front legs on a sharp edge inside the carrying case and every now and then she would lose a few drops of blood.
Well, you should have seen how we all were on fire with compassion for this poor turtle. And it was hard not to gush over this little reptile—Pilgrim was extra endearing during the prayer—she extended her neck and her arms and legs fully and was wiggling around as I prayed for her. And it was very cute and we were all cooing with concern over this nice little animal.
[And you may be very happy to learn that the bleeding stopped later on and she is getting better and better.]
I was thinking about our Wednesday turtle adventure the other day as I was out walking. How we as humans burn with compassion for a cute little turtle. And how we as humans usually look the other way and try to forget some person we may encounter on the street who is bleeding inside or out, and who needs a helping hand.
* * *
We chose today’s bulletin cover on purpose. It’s a hard-hitting image that goes with a hard-hitting gospel. Last week we had a dollar bill in our faces. This week we get a homeless person sleeping on the street. It’s a good thing that we bless the animals next week so we can get a break from these covers!
This photo today is meant to make us think hard about our reactions to seeing the homeless or those who are needy in any respect. How often is our reaction one of pretending we don’t see—or even of crossing the street so we don’t have to see—or walking right past really fast so we can’t engage the person as a real human being and be affected.
When we visit our daughter Emily in Toronto we see a lot of homeless people on the street, begging for coins or cash. And we walk on by, because we’re afraid that our cash might go to buy drugs. When I went to General Seminary in the Chelsea section of New York there was always someone sleeping over a grate in the sidewalk, and I learned not to go down that side of the street. I bet almost everyone here can relate to this.
At some level I think I struggle with the possibility that when we do acknowledge the suffering ones around us and when we make a connection with them, we somehow cross a bridge into our own souls. Is it possible that sometimes we may not see the needy because they remind us too much of parts of ourselves that are so needy—or parts of ourselves that were needy at one time? It’s like looking in a mirror; and sometimes that can make us wince.
Now, of course, I am not suggesting that we jump to empty our pockets when we see someone suffering. The issues that cause the suffering are often extremely complex and may run the gamut from mental illness-- to economic downturn-- to being born into a poor family-- to substance abuse—and to lots of other possibilities.
No, I am not suggesting that 10 dollars handed to a beggar solves anything. But I am suggesting that we have a sacred calling to see others as children of God, just as we are children of God. And really seeing the humanity of another is the first step in reaching out and helping.
Maybe the best way to help IS through an agency that cares for the needy, like our own Redding Social Services or the DCF in Danbury. That’s probably healthier than handing someone on the streets some cash . . . but it isn’t very immediate.
Oh, it’s a difficult issue, isn’t it?
Still the call remains: see the needy. Acknowledge their pain. Burn with compassion for people the same way we burn with compassion for our little animals. And don’t stop giving.
* * *
Today’s gospel certainly does a great job of being in our faces, doesn’t it? If we haven’t been affected by it, maybe we weren’t listening. I think this story IS meant to shake us up. The gospel tells us a few verses before our selection starts that Jesus told this story to those were “lovers of money.” And our Epistle reminds us that the “love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” So the lesson is obvious: we are to use our money to help, to reach out-- not to horde it and spend it only on ourselves. And we are charged to SEE the need around us, and not turn a blind eye.
Read this story of the rich man and Lazarus the beggar carefully, and it seems that the rich man just doesn’t SEE this beggar right outside his door. In this life he doesn’t abuse him, he doesn’t tell him to go away, he doesn’t starve him on purpose. No, none of those things. He just doesn’t see him. And how ironic it is as the story continues after they both have died. What does the rich man do? Finally. He “looks up and sees” Lazarus. At last. He sees him. But he nonetheless treats Lazarus as one beneath himself, asking Abraham to send Lazarus to help him in the flames –to put some cool water on his tongue.
Continue on with the story and we see the rich man begging Abraham to send Lazarus back to warn the rich man’s brothers. And no, that won’t happen either—for as Abraham says, they will not listen to him. Or see him.
And the final irony: they wouldn’t even listen to or see one who has risen from the dead and come back to warn them. Not even Jesus.
* * *
We are the 5 brothers [and sisters]. We are still living this life, and we have eyes to see, and pocketbooks to help, if only we consent to use them.
I think as a parish and as individuals we are opening up to others’ needs and seeing some others as children of God who are worthy of our help. Just this past Friday our Messy Church Youth Group made 1,595 meatballs for meals at Dorothy Day House—and that was a ton of meat contributed by you.
May we continue and surpass this place of giving where we stand now. May we take risks to see more, and to listen more. May our hearts burn with compassion for all God’s creatures who struggle and suffer—turtles and people—the homeless and the grieving and the sick.
May we see them as people just like us.
And may we respond.
Amen.
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