Two Stories

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10, 9:20-22; James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50

Courage for community. Fervent, embodied prayer that makes a difference. Difficult decisions made on behalf of the safety and wellbeing of the little ones. These are the urgent, life and death matters that run through the scriptures this morning.

I’ve told one story already this morning – from the only book of the Bible with a woman’s name attached to it. Esther had the courage for community – she “came out” as a Jew to the King, though it could have cost her her life – and the community prayed fervently on her behalf, to support her as she risked everything in order to try to save them.

I’m going to tell you two more stories. The first is a tragedy. It highlights the unspeakable consequences of life lived at a pace that is outside grace in which it is difficult for little ones to thrive. The second is a story of leading a wandering soul back to safety. They are both of them, stories of community in which God is active – though not directly spoken about – just as in the Book of Esther.

A doting father tears up whenever co-workers ask about his baby son. He and his wife are overjoyed about this baby. They are also distracted with the care of an infant and the demands of their professional lives. One morning, the father parked his car at the BART lot, and rode the train to work. He’d not had a lot of sleep and his routine had been disrupted. So much so that he drove straight to the BART rather than to day care to drop off his four month old son. He returned to his car, as usual, in the early evening. Too late. When this happened, I lived just a few blocks from the train station. The outpouring of support for this young mother and father was overwhelming – coming from all over the Bay Area – though none of it could ever take away the exquisite grief etched into their hearts.

Around the edges, questions began being asked - why is forty hours of work no longer considered sufficient? Why are we working ourselves and our children to death? And why did no one see the child? The car was in the middle of a very busy parking lot. God forbid, that someone saw the child and figured it was none of their business. The comments and conversations continued – and people began making pledges to look up away from their own routine, their own world, their own blinders, and out into the world around them. Who needs help? Who needs a hand? Who needs an ax, literal or metaphorical, to help release a little one from danger.

Jesus said that everyone of us is responsible to be a place of safety for little ones. To do that, we need to get out of our heads and into the common sense of the world around us.

Whenever the disciples got into a heady discussion –or so far into their own agenda, Jesus took a little child, set him in the middle of the disciples and said, “Look. This is the way. Right here. Standing in front of you.” Zen Buddhists call this “beginner’s mind.” Christians call this “the way to heaven.” Mothers and Fathers call this, “I need some rest. Could someone help me for awhile.” And the Christian community is pledged by our Lord to say yes. We can help you.

A second story. One of my dearest friends is in her mid eighties. She swims every day at her club in Marin. She is helping to raise her grandchildren and she is often beside herself with frustration with them. But a couple days ago, when she had just gotten out of the pool, she noticed a teenager she didn’t know off to the side of the pool, talking on her cell phone– right under the sign that said, “No cell phones!” The girl was crying, sobbing, really. “I don’t know why she did that to me. My name will be all over the school now. I can’t imagine going back there.” Now, Nancy has gotten way past the point of caring whether she’s in fashion or not, or whether she is politically correct or not. So she stopped and touched the girl’s shoulder. "Believe me," my friend said, "whatever she did to you, put it out of your mind. In the long run, it will harm her more than it will you. Look out,– there’s so much in the world for you to be part of. Forget these people who treat you badly. Move out into all the good the world has for you. There are good people – do things with them.” Of course - she was a teenager - she didn't respond! – but I don't doubt for a minute that this act of kindness connected the girl to a larger reality and saved some piece of her soul from the terrible ravaging that only teen age girls know how to inflict on each other.

It would have been very easy, and probably much more socially correct, for Nancy to have pretended that she didn’t hear the conversation, didn’t notice the girl’s tears. Touching her on the shoulder. Offering her an elder’s wisdom. All of this is slightly beyond the norm.

But when your hearts and minds are engaged with the people around you, and you have been fervently praying to be of service, you will find yourselves in situations where you are able to offer a word or a touch of healing and hope. And while God’s name may never be spoken, it is nevertheless true, that God is present and active. It’s also true that most of the time, you will never know the good you have done.

It is my hope that it can be said of Good Shepherd in the years to come, “This is a community whose prayers are effective, whose touch confers healing and harbor for anyone in need – and who knows how to celebrate salvation with exuberance and thanks.

Amen.