March 29, 2009

Have you ever watched something die? Maybe it was a bird, a person, a dream, a relationship. It might have been a slow death or a sudden one. It might have been expected and even welcome or it might have come to a person kicking and screaming with resistance.

I once saw a marriage die. The decline came out of nowhere and was a slow descent. It was uncomfortable and painful to watch because as the marriage was dying, one of the two adults was falling in love with another person and was euphoric. So euphoric, the person couldn't even see their spouse's pain. It was uncomfortable, ugly, unpleasant, and awkward. There was anger and crying and, ultimately, acceptance. The once piece that really bothered me as a bystander, was the lack of grace and compassion that one person had for another person - a person they had been in relationship with for almost 20 years and parented two children with. I went for walks with the person in the marriage who was in pain and listened to the pain and the rage of loss. It made me never want to hurt somebody like that. I had to work through my own forgiveness of the partner who inflicted so much pain on the other.

I get that things die. What is unconscionable is that some things die with such coldness and lack of feeling. I had a cousin named Paul who suffered from cystic fibrosis. He had a wonderful life - the youngest of 8 siblings - and he made it to his late 20's. Everyone loved him. He was the only child of parents who had both been divorced with kids of their own; they remarried and had this one child to add to this blended family. Paul was very thin and sick a lot as a child, but you'd never know it by the way he ran around and lived life. His health was pretty good for a while in his early 20's. Then in his late 20's, he was not doing so well so they tried a lung transplant. Paul died shortly after when the lungs did not settle into his body. Both sides of the family gathered at the hospital to visit him and they surrounded him in a circle when he died and sent him off with prayers and love and company. That is how I want to die - surrounded by people who love me.

When death is unavoidable, we are called to act compassionately in the face of death. Human instinct sometimes urges us to avoid the pain, and even pull away from that person, but that is not what we are called to do. Hospice is an organization that has brought much dignity and compassion to those who are dying. There was an article in the L.A. Times yesterday about a free-standing hospice and respite-care center for children. It is called George Mark Children's House and it is located in San Leandro, just east of San Francisco. It is the only free-standing center of its kind in our country. It was founded by two women - a clinical psychologist and a pediatric oncologist after they toured England which is a "pioneer in pediatric palliative care and has nearly 40 children's hospices." (LA Times, March 28, 2009 Section A p. 1) Nearly a dozen other centers are in the process of being formed in this country. They are being modeled after the George Mark Children's House, which has been going strong for 10 years. The only problem is, this facility is privately funded and the funding is down $1.5 million this year due to the economy. Staff has been laid off; others have taken a reduction in their pay. Imagine this place if you will: a place where very sick children and their families can come for respite care. It is a place where families not only get medical care for their children, but they receive compassion and a chance to grieve as their children decline and die. If you read the article and look at the pictures, it is a beautiful testimony to what we humans can do for others, especially those who are hurting and dying and destined for a short life. There are beautiful pictures of caregivers bathing and cradling very sick children. What a wonderful gift to read about this in the newspaper, next to so many stories of greed, arrogance and self-involvement. By the way, the article below it was about the Spelling mansion that is on the market for $150 million. I think I have a good idea about what to do with some of that money.

The book that we will be discussing after coffee hour today is a book by the Rev. Peter Gomes of Harvard University. Gomes challenges us in his book to be a church that defines itself not by the culture but by the Gospel of Jesus. Gomes maintains that Jesus preached a disturbing and redistributive gospel where everyone ends up with something rather than just a few with excess. He states that in the Gospels, story after story introduces this idea of a God who is more generous than we can fathom - the prodigal son, the workers in the vineyard, the healing stories, the parable of the lost sheep. And he reminds us that there are many stories that pronounce judgment on those who don't even see the beggars at their gates - such as the famous story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16). Gomes says that the message of the Gospels of Jesus Christ is perfectly clear. What is unclear is how we justify not following them.

In our Bible reading for today we have the story of Jesus visiting his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus the week before the Passover. Jesus was traveling to Jerusalem for the Passover feast and things around them were uneasy. Jesus' safety was in question. Those closest to him worried that he might be arrested and worse, even killed. Amidst this, his friend Mary lovingly anoints his feet with costly perfume. It is an act of love and care for someone she is deeply worried about. It didn't save Jesus from his death, but it was an act of compassion and love in the midst of life. It is criticized by some and simply puzzling to others.

How we face death and watch others face death - any kind of death - is important, says our scriptural tradition. We don't waste money on dying children and adults; we show our humanity in our treatment of them when there is nothing else at stake except for their comfort.

May we be guided by the principles of the gospel this season as we anticipate Holy Week and the transformation of suffering into new life. Amen.