November 8, 2009
23 Pentecost, Year B
Christ Church Cathedral
The Rev. Canon Allison St. Louis

A LIFE CENTERED

Five days ago, most of us probably never heard of Jason Hunt, Francheska Velez  or Michael Cahill.  Less than twenty four hours later, most of us learned that Jason was a twenty-two year old man who got married two months ago, Francheska was a twenty one year old woman who became pregnant less than two months ago, and Michael was a sixty-two year old man who survived a heart attack two weeks ago.  We also learned that they were all dead – shot and killed by Nidal Malik Hasan, a thirty-nine year old psychiatrist at the Ft. Hood Army base in Texas.  It was perhaps the last place those three – or any of the other victims – thought they would die.  It was, after all, supposed to be safe place for them, and Major Hasan, who had taken an oath to “do no harm,” was supposed to be a safe person for them.  As it turned out, someone who was a leader in the system, ended up preying on others in the system, and someone whose work was supposed to bring healing and hope ended up delivering death and destruction.

In today’s gospel, the scribes are supposed to be the safe persons – persons who would teach God’s love, justice and mercy through word and deed.  But, they too, end up preying on some of the most vulnerable members of the system - widows.

In The Last Week: A Day by Day Account of Jesus’ Final Week in Jerusalem, John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg remind us that “throughout the Hebrew Bible, widows – along with orphans – are special objects of God’s compassion, for, without a man to provide for them, they were the most vulnerable people.  Their treatment was the measure of the justice of a society.” 

But instead of seeking justice for these widows, those who are entrusted with that responsibility – the religious leaders – work the system to feed their greed, self-righteousness and false piety.  They fatten themselves, according to Crossan and Borg, by “administering loan agreements and then foreclosing on widows’ property when the loan could not be repaid.”

The scribes are expected to offer healing and hope.  Instead, by perpetuating the oppressive practices of their day, they deliver death and destruction.

Yesterday, about 140 persons gathered at this Cathedral to reflect upon, and repent of, the ways in which churches in our diocese have benefitted from, and been shaped by the transatlantic slave trade – one of the most oppressive, dehumanizing systems in history.  Among the many stories was one about a slave named Prince.  Prince, who was sold into slavery when he was six, spent much of his adult life working on a ropewalk in Middletown, CT - eating alone and sleeping alone - always near the ropewalk.  At the age of eighty-seven, Prince, now a household servant, served his master, George Starr, his breakfast chocolate one morning.  However, on that day, the chocolate was laced with arsenic.  Because arsenic was used as a poison or as a treatment for headaches, we don’t know if Prince was trying to help his master, who suffered from headaches, or kill him.  In any event, Prince was accused and convicted of attempted murder, and sentenced to life in prison.  He died at the Wethersfield State Prison in 1834 at the age of 110 and is buried there in an unmarked grave there, having spent 104 of his 110 years imprisoned in one form or another,

Unlike Jason, Michael and Francheska, Prince did not lose his life in one fatal moment.  But he lost his life nonetheless - from the moment he became a slave, he slowly but surely lost his life – because any system that is built on enslaving some to the benefit of others is death-dealing, dehumanizing, and evil.

It is in the midst of another death-dealing, dehumanizing and evil system that we encounter the poor widow.  Was she one of the widows whose house was devoured by the scribes?  We don’t know.  All we know is that she is poor – two copper coins – worth about a penny – are all she has to live on. 

What kind of system would allow one of its most vulnerable members to have so little?
What kind of system would then demand that she give back to the system what little she has?
So is it true that human beings have a tendency to protect systems from which we benefit?
       
Sitting across from the treasury, the Prince of Peace, the One who is about to offer all he has – his very life – sees the one who is giving all she has.  Releasing the two copper coins, this woman – a poor widow – sends a speechless but clear example to all who would listen.

By offering all she has,
The widow teaches us that our life ultimately does not depend on other human beings, but on the God who gives us all that we have;
She teaches us that we can be in the system but not of the system;
She teaches us that it is the God who made us, and not the system in which we live, that defines our worth as human beings.

This trailblazing, risk-taking woman reaffirms for us that it is God – our freedom-bringing, life-giving God - upon whom our life depends.  Even though she is one of the victims of an unjust system, she does not allow that to damage her relationship with that God.  It would be so easy to do – to blame God, to refuse to pray, to refuse to give.  But this amazing woman has determined that she will not allow the behavior of others – even if they are religious leaders – to get in the way of her relationship with God.  She has determined that she will not give her power away.

You and I are called to that depth of relationship with God – our freedom-bringing, life-giving God.  And we are called to bring healing and hope to others – especially the most vulnerable members of our society.

So, even though slavery has ended formally, when we witness the legacy of slavery in our midst, we do not lose heart.

When we hear that Hartford continues to be the poorest city in one of the wealthiest states in America, we do not lose heart.

When we hear that the median household income in Hartford is about $28,000 while that in New Canaan is $179,000, we do not lose heart.

And when we hear that the current state policy forces the poorest people in CT to pay over 12% of their income in state and local taxes while the wealthiest pay less than 5%, we do not lose heart.

Instead, we pray, we work for justice, and we pray some more.  We stand against death and destruction.  We work towards healing and hope.

Yesterday, Bishop Ahrens told me a story that symbolizes where we need to be in order to be consistent bearers of healing and hope.  One day, the primus of Ireland was having dinner with one of his priests when they heard a thud.  The priest went upstairs to find his young son on the floor.

 “What happened?  Were you playing in the bed?” the father asked.

 “No,” said the son. 

“You’re sure you weren’t jumping up and down in the bed?”

“No.”

“Well, why did you fall on the floor?”

“I don’t know,” said the child.

The father continued to ask why his son had fallen out of bed, but the child kept saying, “I don’t know.”

Finally, as the turned off the lights and was about to leave the room, the child said,
“I think I know why I fell off the bed.”

“Why?” asked the exasperated father.

“I think I fell off the bed because I stayed too close to where I got in.”

You and I were welcomed into the circle of God’s family at our baptism, but we cannot be effective co-creators with God if we stay on the edges of the circle.  Instead, we are called to move to the center – to a deep, life-giving relationship with God – and to work alongside the God who respects the dignity of each and every human being and who desires peace and justice for all.  So imagine, just imagine how much hope and healing we can offer if we move towards the center, towards a life centered in relationship with our freedom-bringing, life-giving God.