Out of Nowhere

Pentecost 19/23C

In a Doonesbury comic strip a while back, Mike is on a jet to New York, nervous, praying to "get a grip on himself." A part of his uneasiness comes from the fact that his seat mate is dark, wears a turban, has a mustache, needs a shave, and is talking on the phone about cash, a rental car, and a motel.

Overhearing all this, Mike panics, confronts the man, and says in uncontrolled frustration, "Okay, look! I'm trying not to profile here." The man, interrupted, says into the phone, "Hold on a moment, will ya, mom?"

As different as we think we are (and we can come up with some doozies), we have a lot more in common with one another than we have in uncommon. The DNA people say now there's no such thing as race.

The story about Ruth and Naomi we've just now heard in today's propers is about families, families not all that unlike our own. It is one of the better known and more heartwarming stories in all the Bible saga of our spiritual genealogy. Even though Naomi is a mother-in-law, she mothers her sons' wives no less, even all the more. To read once again this poignant tale of tragedy, love, and loyalty can be a comfort in our own time of fear and anxiety, anger, and vengeance (Ruth 1.8-19a).

The confusing and tormenting events of these times drive deep down within us and test the spiritual bedrock common to all human beings, challenging us to be present to and to listen to others. We'll need to share again and again our continuing consciousness about 9/11 and our more recent reactions to war's escalation. Change has perhaps never been so dominant and demanding. In this season of terror, our family and community saga is even more important as it risks getting lost in the maelstrom and downplayed as unimportant.

The gospel story tells of lepers, people who were accustomed to being rejected. These had heard of Jesus and rightly suspected that he'd treat them differently. So they cried out, moving in closer than the safe distance required by the law. Jesus heard them and responded with healing words and with his usual drawing near and touching (Lk 17.11-19).

We consider well his and Naomi's examples of warmth and reception, listening and healing. For of all times, this is not a time for keeping a safe distance from other people. It is a time to draw near, to listen, to touch, to offer an embrace.

This spirituality we all share in God's creative imagining of us, in whatever form or shape, makes of us a common family. It calls forth from us our imaginations and reaches in to our own loneliness, pain, and grief. It can enrich our faith and become the key to discovering and appreciating the grace that today's collect reminds us "precedes and follows, making us continually given to all good works" (Proper 23, BCP p 183).

Imagination, after all, is one of the most important ways that our faith is implemented and made incarnate. Can we not imagine, then, the healing bond that faith complimented when Ruth said to Naomi, "Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God... " (Ruth 1.16b) and when Jesus said to the leper, "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well" (Lk 17.19b).

Somehow the present inconveniences brought upon us by our current inward obsessions and squabbling pale beside these words of Presiding Bishop John Hines addressing the General Convention in Houston, Texas, thirty-four years ago.

"Against even the worst of possibilities, must be set the inescapable obligations of Christians, that the Body of Christ must be prepared to offer itself up for the sake of the healing and the solidarity of the whole human family, whatever its religious or racial identities. Especially must the Body of Christ risk its own life in bearing and sharing the burdens of those who are being exploited, humiliated, and disinherited!...We simply can no longer afford churches whose real mode is a 'vanished' universe. In a world of sometimes agonizing change the church cannot be less than the 'radical minister of change.' God willing it should be more than that, but it cannot be less -- and still be faithful to the God who makes all things new."

In the big band swing era, it was not uncommon for the leader both to front the band and also to play an instrument as a soloist. Artie Shaw and Benny Goodman were both clarinetists and led two of the hands-down best bands.

There seemed always to be running arguments and polls in the music magazines about who was best. Each had their very vocal fans. In an interview one time, Shaw, who was never short on ego, was reminded of the ongoing comparison and was asked his opinion about it. "The answer is simple," he said. "Benny plays the clarinet. I play music."

How refreshing it might be for us churchers if we could just get over it, admit that the gospel really swings for everybody, nobody ever listens alike, and some even hear the music.

The big yellow neighborhood cat that hangs out around the bird bath and feeder was being obnoxious again. He was in one of the flower beds pawing and wrestling with something, his hind quarters in my direction. I figured he'd caught one of the finches and was quickly dispatching it.

So I looked through my binoculars only to see that he had caught nothing, yet was carrying on like he was doing the east Texas two-step. Ever so often, he'd bat at a plant, then rub it with his jowl, then shinny alongside of it, then wander away rather aimlessly.

We don't dance much, let alone do the two-step, but we do try to run a twelve-step shop on account of my onetime more wayward days. It wasn't until I watched the feline intruder's behavior that I remembered CP telling me she'd recently transplanted some Nepeta cataria (aka catnip) in the yard.

She said a friend gave it to her, and that gardeners always plant each other's gifts, as it would be insulting not to. I suggested AlAnon. She said for me to take my own inventory and work my own program.