| This Week's Lesson |
| 451 Riviera Drive NE ● Palm Bay, Florida 32905 ● 321-723-3963 |
| Riviera United Church of Christ |
| Wherever you are on life's journey, you are welcome here! |
| A couple of weeks ago, as most of you know, I had some serious health issues that caused me to be hospitalized. I first went in with abdominal pains that turned out to be a very angry gallbladder that needed to be removed. Then I went in two more times the same week because of a serious reaction to medication – I had these violent tremors in my arms that would not stop and chest pain as I thrashed about. It was pretty scary and all seems somewhat surreal now. My first stay was in the Palm Bay Hospital where (I am happy to report) the care I received was as good as one could hope for. It was outstanding. My next two visits were to a different hospital and I left there both times feeling that the care – in my opinion – I received at Palm Bay was better. I don’t feel it was some sort of an institutional ineptitude at one hospital versus the other – indeed I am very grateful to the personnel at both hospitals who carefully tended to my medical needs – but something was different. Lying around in a hospital gives you plenty of time to think and so it should not surprise you that I have given this a lot of thought. For all that cogitating the difference I came up with in the care I received is simple: acts of kindness. That was the difference. Every single person I encountered at Palm Bay Hospital offered kindnesses. Little things like checking in to see if we were alright, a smile, telling us what they were doing or going to do, providing a sense of real compassion for our plight. And when I say “we” and “our,” I mean Nancy and me. Nance was by my side everywhere they’d let her in and although she was very worried she just focused on helping me get through those fearful few days. Looking back there were some funny moments too. I’ve told you some of them, but they are kinda fun to recap. Like all the pain meds making me talk and talk and cry at the same time and then I suddenly stopped weeping and said “Whoa Nance, I know you are not going to believe this but I can still see the ceiling when I close my eyes.” Or when the EMTs insisted I carry the bottles of my pills in my wildly trembling arms which gave a manic maraca Spanish flair to my first ambulance experience. I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet that during my second ambulance experience, the EMTs carefully walked me to our door and only then thought to determine if anyone had brought a stretcher to the door – no one had so I had to stand and wait as they got it. The EMTs were dealing with me in a very high stress situation and truly an emergency so it is easy to understand that there was a bump or two. But person-to-person the EMTs were kind and thoughtful to me and Nancy and I am not only grateful that they got me to the hospital, but for those kindnesses. They really did matter. My first night in the ER at Palm Bay Hospital exemplifies how much kindness matters. As I said, every single person was kind and thoughtful toward us. Kevin the ER nurse and Dr. Neely the ER doctor did not just treat the physical ailment; they took care of us in an emotional way. I would even say a spiritual way by, well, being kind. They kept us informed, made sure we were comfortable and listened and responded with concern every time they came in the room. The lab techs and the stretcher wheelers did the same thing. The nurses and the CNAs on the third floor and Dr. Paasa, the surgeon, and surgery team did the same thing in prep and post care. My own personal doctor, Dr. Chacko, called me in the hospital, stopped by my room and provided wonderful – and comforting – care and kindness to us. At the other hospital most of the people there were also kind and thoughtful and treated us with, care and compassion. But a few did not seem to. One seemed downright gruff; a couple of others just seemed indifferent. That sense of gruffness and indifference provided no sense of kindness in some tense times. It may just have been folks were having a bad night but that lack of kindness made a difference – or more to the point, the pervasive presence of kindness at Palm Bay Hospital made all the difference. I had a pretty rough experience in some sense at Palm Bay Hospital. I know others have had it much worse, but I was in deep pain and agony and ended up having some heavy duty surgery because of it. And I find it remarkable that my sense of that experience is gratitude to the hospital and its staff and the doctors, not just for the medical attention, but for the atmosphere of kindness I experienced there. It sounds kinda sappy but it’s like I not only got competent medical care, but a big figurative group hug too. Well, you know that pastors are trained to think about everything in theological terms. So all that laying around gave me a lot of time not just to think about the difference in care but what it might mean theologically. I’ve mentioned in many sermons in the past how Jesus was not, and is not, the Superman-warrior-Messiah that people were expecting and still want him to be. He was not, and is not, a warrior king, but the Prince of Peace. He provided, and still provides, a way to peace through love and non-violence, not a way to peace through war and violence. But here is something that did not really fully dawn on me until I had this experience; Jesus’ acts in his life were all acts of kindness to folks like you and me. People in dire spots like I was in those Emergency Rooms, like all the other folks in the hospital rooms. Jesus was kind to regular Joes and Janes in regular Joe and Jane kinda situations, nothing earth shaking except to the recipients of his care and kindnesses. Not one of Jesus’ reported pre-Easter miracles stopped an army from invading. There are no reports that he stopped earthquakes or volcanoes or tsunamis. He did not put out city wide fires, end pestilent or famine. He did not halt cruel tyrants or oppressive institutions in his lifetime. There are not even any reports he tended to the needs of anyone famous or well known in history. He did not make lottery winners out of the pious or give away earthly kingdoms or significant worldly wealth to anyone. He did not wave his arms and stop or alter the course of history with a single act during his life. What he did while alive was provide kindness and care to people. It may not seem all that new and revealing, but as I thought about it I was struck by how most of what we remember about Jesus’ acts in the world while he was alive are his acts of kindness to ordinary people. The miracles of Jesus were all – ALL – acts of kindness to every day Joes and Janes. This is what I got to thinking about those long days stuck in the hospital and recovering at home. How Jesus’ miracles when boiled down are acts of kindness to everyday folks. Think about it. The reports of the miracles Jesus did for people while he was alive are basically of four different types. He provides food and drink for people at gatherings. He heals people of illnesses and death. He helps people catch fish. He alleviates fear in people by stilling a storm and walking to them over the sea. In each of these four genres of miracles there is a commonality: Jesus is kind and caring to regular people. He tends to others who are in some form of trouble that regular people often face; injury, sickness, hunger, thirst, fear and death. In a sermon I did few Sundays ago, I mention that the theological dictionary describes love as a “strong feeling of personal affection, care and desire for the well being of others.” Let me say that definition again: Love is a “strong feeling of personal affection, care and desire for the well being of others.” That is exactly what Jesus provides to all those regular Joes and Janes in his miracle stories. His acts of kindness and care come from a “strong feeling of personal affection, care and desire for the well being of others.” They come from love. And I know you all know this: GOD IS LOVE. Which brings me to today’s Lectionary reading – the very famous story of The Prodigal Son. This is a great story. It is a lot of folks’ favorite parable and you can see why. The father figure is often understood as a metaphor for God who is understood through this story of Jesus’ to be portrayed as loving us regardless of what we have done. And who will take us into the fold with an extravagant welcome full of a “strong feeling of personal affection, care and desire for [our] well being.” That is a powerful way to hear the story and it is a fair reading. God loves with no strings attached. Parables by their very nature are usually told or written to have more than one meaning. They can have different meanings that reach out to meet folks in the context that they find themselves in. And it is okay to hear the story in many different ways, any one or more of which we can learn from. There is no problem with embracing multiple facets of the story. So I am going to suggest another facet, or way, that we might hear the parable of “The Prodigal Son.” One that ties into this idea of kindnesses into strong human feelings of “personal affection, care and desire for the well being of others.” We can see the father in the story as God for sure, but we can also come at it from a whole other point of view. What if the father can also be understood as a metaphor for human love with no strings attached? The son abandons the family, squanders his share of the family holdings and lives recklessly and wickedly. His family is sick over his absence and the lack of any word about him. The father has, by normal human standards, every right to be angry and ashamed of this wayward prodigal son. Hearing the story WE even get riled at the boy. We could even understand the dad disowning him. But what does the dad do when he sees his imprudent self-centered son coming home? He is not filled with disdain or anger. He does not even lecture the wayward son, there are no strings attached to his love. The very first thing Jesus tells us he had for the wayward son was “compassion.” He expresses that compassion with hugs and kisses, lavishly clothing the son in a robe and rings and sandals; and providing the very best food and a party to celebrate. This story can be heard not only as the power of God’s compassion, but the power of human compassion to those in trouble. A son who disowned his family, cast shame upon it, foolishly wasted resources, sinned so much he became as low as an unclean pig. This son, who had become what the Jewish culture of Jesus’ day considered the lowest of the low, was provided kindness by a human who did what? Showed personal affection, care and desire for his well being. Or to put it even more simply the story is about how showing kindness and care makes all the difference. This is not just something the story calls us to give those the culture considers low. We are supposed to provide kindness and care to everyone. Such acts bring in love, which is God. That is what Jesus was doing in all the stories about him, and its one of the things he taught, and we can hear it in today’s parable. To go back to the beginning of this sermon, that is what the people at Palm Bay Hospital provided to me: kindness and care. They may not have called it Love, but I am convinced that’s what it was. They showed me personal affection, and care and a desire for my well being in every moment of my stay – and it made all the difference. In short, in those awful moments of my emergency, in my pain and suffering, the people in the secular institution brought me closer to God with love. We can relate this to Riviera United Church of Christ too. You all provided lots of kindness and care to me too with cards and calls and visits and covering for me and being patient even now as I continue to heal. But it is not just the pastor who gets cared for here. What makes this church community so appealing is that people come into the doors of this church and we strive to give them a welcome not unlike that of the Father in today’s reading. We do not care if they come to us branded by the culture as low, or medium or high for that matter; we have compassion for them simply because they are God’s precious children. Our compassion, our extravagant care and kindnesses, do not end with our first welcome. And it shouldn’t. It is sometimes easy and even understandable to want to be like the elder son in the story and be angry about someone doing something or not doing something in the family, but that is not what God calls us to do. God and Jesus call us to be compassionate and kind and caring to ALL our brothers and sisters, even when the culture may feel they have earned scorn, even when they do things we do not like. It’s not an easy thing, but as Christians we are to show personal affection, and care and a desire for the well being of others, ALL THE TIME AND TO EVERYONE – because as God’s Children they are our brothers and sisters! And the good news is that Jesus has proven it can be done, this love-and-kindness-for-all thing and that it makes all the difference. When we show kindness and care it matters much. It’s Love breaking in. May we do all we can in life to provide lots and lots of that. AMEN. COPYRIGHT Scott Elliott © 2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED |
| Kindness Matters a sermon based on: Luke 15:11b-32 given at Palm Bay, FL on March 14, 2010 by Rev. Scott Elliott |
| © Riviera United Church of Christ |
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