Getting in the Boat and Finding Hope

The lush greenery of a tea plantation on the Azores.

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom
Innocent of Alaska, March 30, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Today we remember Archbishop Innocent of Alaska. He lived a long and fruitful life. And I think he is a good person for us to be honoring today. Between his story and our reading from Isaiah in particular, I found some spiritual sustenance that I have been seeking.

Before Innocent was a bishop or an archbishop, he was a missionary. He served in a number of places in Alaska, and I was struck by his engagement with the Native Peoples that he met. He worked diligently to ensure that they had the Scriptures in their own languages. He met them where they were. He did not insist that they learn Russian or Greek or Latin. He brought the Scriptures to them in their language. They got to know Jesus on their terms.

I think there is a good reminder for us in this time - a reminder that as followers of Jesus we are called to meet people where they are. When I was training as a hospital chaplain, we talked a lot about this. I might know some of someone’s medical history or why they were in the hospital when I walked into a patient’s room, but I had no idea how they had been affected by the experience. I had no idea what they were thinking and feeling until I engaged in conversation with them and listened to what was going on in their hearts and minds. As we liked to say, I needed to “get in the boat with them.” I needed to let go of my assumptions about how hard or easy things might be for them, my assumptions about how anxious or how at peace they might be. I could only fully be their companion on the way, if I came to understand how things were going for them, came to see things from their point of view.

I think we need to do that for each other, like Innocent, like my chaplaincy mentors, we need to listen to where people are at. We need to weep with them when they are suffering and grieving. We need to rejoice with them when they are rejoicing. If they are anxious and we are not, then perhaps we can understand why they are and help them. These times are challenging, and we need each other. We need friends with whom we can bring the fullness of our emotions in this time. It is much easier to bring the fullness of our emotions, if our friends are open and inviting, seeking out, asking what we might need, not making assumptions or dictating how we should be feeling at any given moment. So in this time may we be open, inviting, and compassionate with all those we meet.

Then the second bit of sustenance I found this morning was in our reading from Isaiah, where God tells the people that there will be plenteous water for their thirst, that the land will be full of rivers and springs, there will be beautiful trees and flowering plants. What seemed a barren landscape will be filled with beauty and life. What a marvelous image in this time, when we could so easily be taken over by fear, by a theology of scarcity. A time when we could so easily get overwhelmed by all the bad news out there that we could fail to see the signs of beauty, of hope and new life that are around us. I find myself drawing solace from these lines in Isaiah. What might the parallels be for us today? There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that God is present with us, that we have cause for hope, that we will get through this, and that as it always is, God’s loving, life-giving, liberating self is present and at work in the world. So, let’s promise each other today that we will be on the lookout for those signs. They may be small. The way the sunbeams come through the window. The buds on the trees. Plants and flowers pushing up through the dirt and beginning to bloom. The smile or the laugh of someone dear to us. That delicious first sip of coffee or first bite of a meal. A comfortable chair in which to rest our weary bodies. Hearing from an old friend. Getting a few minutes outside. Seeing the myriad of ways our communities are caring for each other. Practicing and witnessing small acts of generosity do our souls good.

There is a heaviness in the world and in our own hearts these days, and maybe today in particular. The grief is real. It is hard. We can bear it together. We can get in the boat with each other and share our burdens. And together we can also be watching and searching for all the signs of hope and new life. They are there. Always. Thanks be to God. AMEN.