Here's a link to a video of the sermon
There have been days this week when I have felt like that man Roger just told us about from the Gospel according to John - the man lying paralyzed by the poll called Bethzatha.
“Do you want to be made well?” Jesus asks him – and maybe me.
“There is no one to put me in the pool,” he replies. And so he is stuck. He has been stuck for 38 years.
It is being in the pool when the water is stirred up that can bring healing. And he is out of the pool. He cannot figure out how to get into it. He cannot find anyone to help him.
That’s what I am feeling this week.
Think of the pool as the place that can heal so much of the horror that surrounds us right now – a war in Ukraine, the earth in peril from a changing climate caused by our actions, democracy seeming more fragile than ever, toxic misinformation polluting our sources of news.
And if that is not enough, a week ago we learned about the murder of 10 people by a white supremacist in a supermarket in Buffalo, N.Y.
I feel paralyzed. How can I get into that pool of healing? Maybe some of you are feeling that way as well.
When the waters are stirred up in that pool, they can refresh our spirits.
When the waters are stirred up, they might bring healing to the deep wounds we see in our world.
When the waters are stirred up, they can give us the energy to get up and walk out to help meet the needs of our world.
But at this moment, we are alone. No one will help us into the pool. We are paralyzed. Too often, all we do is lament our fate.
“Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me."
It is thinking about them – about what happened to them and why and what we might do – that is making me feel sad and angry – and paralyzed.
Starting with the oldest:
Ruth Whitfield, 86, was on her way from visiting her husband in a nursing home before stopping at the store to get something to eat.
Pearly Young, 77, loved singing, dancing, and being with family and she ran a food pantry in the Central Park neighborhood for 25 years.
Katherine Massey, 72, was a community leader, a powerful voice for her neighborhood. Last year, she wrote a letter to The Buffalo News pushing for more federal regulations of firearms.
Deacon Heyward Patterson, 67, was loading groceries into his car for a client when he was gunned down
Celestine Chaney, 65, was a cancer survivor who a grandmother of six and the great-grandmother of one.
Geraldine Talley, 62, was as a devoted mother and grandmother.
Aaron Salter, 55, was a retired Buffalo police officer and the grocery store’s security guard.
Andre Mackneil, 53, was buying a cake for his 3-year-old son when he was killed.
Margus D. Morrison, 52, was at the grocery store that afternoon to buy snacks for a weekly movie night with his family
Roberta Drury, 32, helped care for her brother, who is recovering from cancer.
They are all dead because an 18-year old white man with a legally purchased assault rifle wanted to pick a place where he could create the maximum fear among black folks. So he chose a grocery store in a predominantly black neighborhood some 200 miles from his own home. He had planned to kill many more but, thank God, he was stopped.
We have seen this before.
The murder of nine blacks at a Bible study by a white supremacist at Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, S.C. in 2015.
The murder of 11 Jewish people by a white supremacist at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh in 2018.
The murder of 23 mostly Latinos by a white supremacist at the Wal-Mart in El Paso in 2019.
The murders by a white supremacist of seven Sikh worshippers at their gurdwara in Oak Creek back in 2012.
Over and over, hatred of those perceived as different has led to this irrational and horrific bloodshed.
Valarie Kaur, the Sikh author and activist who wrote See No Stranger, said last week that her first thought after the news broke about the shootings in Buffalo was “They’re going to keep killing us.” She talked about her own terror and fatigue and wrote: “I've organized around white supremacist hate for 21 years, since before this gunman was born. The killings have become more frequent, more effective, and more efficient at taking life.”
She is not alone feeling that.
A Washington Post/Ipsos poll done in the past week that came out yesterday reported that “three-quarters of Black Americans are worried that they or someone they love will be attacked because of their race.” It also found that only 10 percent of Black Americans think the problem of racism will improve in their lifetimes.
Racist murder after racist murder. And I feel paralyzed when I wonder what I can do about it.
There is no one to put me into the pool, I say.
And Jesus says, "Stand up, take your mat and walk."
We won’t get past this if we just sit on the sidelines.
So we start with lament. We continue with seeking ways to support those who are suffering – maybe sending money to help, maybe contacting black folks we know here to let them know that we care about them in this moment when all of their long-held fears are brought back to the surface again.
We engage in whatever political actions make sense to us, whether around guns or reparations or home ownership or simply defending efforts to educate our children and our adults about the depth of the realities of racism and of white supremacy that infect our communities.
It never seems like enough. I want the waters to be stirred and make it all better. But I need to get into the pool and help stir the waters.
And I don’t need to be there alone.
That takes me to that story we heard from the book of Acts, the story of Paul arriving in Philippi, seeking out a place to pray and to meet with people and tell them about this Jesus fellow who had transformed his life and whose message could change the world.
First Paul made this connection with Lydia – a non-Jewish woman who took God seriously. By the end of the morning, Lydia and her household asked to be baptized and extended hospitality to Paul.
The story goes on beyond what we read today. Paul and his companion Silas are going to get in trouble in Philippi and are put in jail. They were praying and singing there when an earthquake shook open the doors. They did not flee, lest they get the jailer in trouble. Ultimately, the magistrates decided to let Paul and Silas go free, but told them to leave that city.
After all that drama, what did Paul and Silas do? In the words at the end of Chapter 16 in the book of Acts: “They went to Lydia’s home; and when they had seen and encouraged the brothers and sisters there, they departed.”
It was the community sustaining one another so they could all move forward to join together in making God’s vision for the world a reality instead of just a dream.
Then we widen the circle. Esau McCaulley, who is an associate professor at Wheaton College, wrote in The Atlantic in the past few days: “What do we owe the deceased in Buffalo and all those who preceded them? It cannot be anything less than pursuing the truth and unveiling all the interconnected evils that led to their tragic end.”
Or as Jim Wallis, the founder of Sojourners says, “All white churches in America, must name and condemn white supremacy and the racist white replacement theory from their Sunday pulpits as an evil and a sin.”
So let be clear at this pulpit what you already know and seek to act on in many ways - white supremacy and the racist white replacement theory are evil and a sin.
Saying that is necessary, but not enough.
That’s why like the people gathered with Lydia and Paul at the river in Philippi, I look for a community to share both grief and action with. I need the energy that comes from that to move towards the pool that for so long eluded the paralyzed man,
That’s why I need to hear the words of Jesus to that man - "Stand up, take your mat and walk."
That’s why together we all have a chance to find something we can do in the midst of all the evil and destruction in our world.
It may be as simple as a prayer to keep us connected to those who are suffering.
It may be a donation to a cause that is making a difference.
It may be a letter either to someone we know or to a stranger who needs words of encouragement.
It may be political action or allyship with an organization or forming a new relationship with someone whose experiences of the world are different than ours.
Whatever we choose, today’s readings invite us to gather at the river, to enter the pool, to let the healing waters renew our spirits and move us forward in our collective effort to make this world a better place for all.
With that in mind, let’s sing together the first three verses of Hymn #597 – "
Shall We Gather at the River.”
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