Healing and Wholeness

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Damien and Marianne of Molokai

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. 

So, friends, you get me two days in a row, and we have another set of texts on healing. Well, the good news is, that is a topic about which I have no shortage of things to say. It is something I have spent a lot of time thinking about! 

Although we could focus on the people. Like yesterday, we have another set of examples of wonderful, selfless individuals in Damien and Marianne who were willing to risk their own lives to care for people in need. In their case it was a leper colony in 19th century Hawaii. We also get something else in today’s texts - both in Isaiah and our Gospel. We get stories of healing. And that is where I would like to focus.

If we just had our Gospel story where “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” we could have a very narrow definition of healing. We could think it is merely the absence or reversal of a disease. It certainly can be that. I hope we all have lots of stories of people who have full and complete recoveries - where it is as though they were never ill to begin with. And we all know, likely from personal, real life experience, that is not always how it goes. Disease is not always erased. Sometimes death still comes even when we have fervently wished for another outcome. Our lives do not always reflect that ideal world offered to us in the Gospel for today. 

And so, I think it is important to look at our other texts, and to think more broadly about our experiences. Our passage from Isaiah talks about healing. And healing does not only mean the absence of disease. Healing is about comfort. Healing is about being in right relationship with God and with each other. Healing is about wholeness. 

It took me a long time in my own journey to get to that understanding. For a long time I wanted healing, in my own life, in my own body to look like a complete restoration. I wanted someone to be able to replace the collarbone they surgically removed. I wanted a body that did not feel diminished. That was not physically possible. Collarbones move too much. They took too much out, and if they put a replacement in there there was a risk that my body would reject it. I really am better off with all my muscles sewn together even if that comes with its own set of challenges. 

So if that door of restoration was closed to me, if I could not go back to “before,” what might healing look like? For me, on a practical front, it has looked like building up the strength of my back and my shoulders to compensate. But more importantly, on a spiritual front, it has meant coming to an understanding of healing and wholeness that is much bigger than what my physical body can or cannot do. 

In many of the healing stories, Jesus tells the person who was healed, “Go. Your faith has made you well.” In many translations it is “Your faith has made you whole.” I like that better. Our faith makes us whole. It is not about what our bodies look like. It is about our faith. It is about our relationship with God and with each other. We are made whole when we are connected to God. When we are present to God, and we are open enough to allow God to be fully present with us. 

Wholeness then is about honoring and welcoming God’s presence in our hearts and lives. A fitting message for this Easter season where we hear again the stories of how the resurrected Christ (who still had his wounds) made himself known to the disciples. We can indeed be made whole, no matter the outcome of physical illness or trauma. That wholeness is a gift from God. We need only be open to receive it. Amen. 

Practicing the ministry of presence together

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Commemoration of Zenaida, Philonella & Hermione

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 three women physicians known for treating everyone who came to them regardless of their ability to pay. It is indeed a time for giving thanks to all those in the medical profession who have worked so tirelessly to care for so many people in the last year. They have given their expertise and brilliance. They have given their care and generosity. In some cases they have given their lives to help others. What a beautiful example of the power of love. That self giving love of Jesus has been evident in so many ways and places over the last year. 

Indeed let us honor physicians and all healthcare workers, as our reading from Sirach does. Let us praise their skills and wisdom. Their God given talents to care for those who are ill. Indeed in the midst of illness we should pray, and we should seek medical treatment. We need both. Prayer is always a good idea. So is doing everything we can to take care of our physical bodies. 

Of course, it would be selling them short to say that the gifts of a physician are merely in applying the principles of science. There is more to it than that. It is not just about making the right diagnosis or having the right medicine. There is an art to healing. An art that requires wisdom and understanding. 

I think most of you know by now that I have a long and complicated medical history. Born twelve weeks prematurely, a cancer patient at 13, and then two high risk pregnancies that blessedly resulted in wonderful healthy children brought into this world by c-sections. I have also worked as a hospital chaplain. I have spent a lot of time receiving and observing medical care. It is just that, “care.”

It is care of the whole person. In fact, I learned a lot from doctors and medical professionals about the ministry of presence. About how much it matters how we show up. This is the kind of thing that applies to all of us in our professional and our personal lives. Are we able to be present when someone needs us? And I mean fully present. Looking people in the eye. Listening. Really listening. Open to learning. Open to hearing another point of view. Are we communicating with our body language, with our eyes, with our facial expressions, that the person we are with matters? Can we be the person today who affirms for them the truth that they are a beloved child of God?

Doing that, being that present takes work. Especially this year. We are all tired. Or maybe weary is a better word. It is easy to feel overwhelmed. We all need the space to grieve. Especially now. Things are beginning to feel hopeful and open again, so little by little our bodies are lightening up on their tight grip on everything. I think many of us have been in survival mode for the past year. We have been focused on just getting through it all. We have been coping. We have just been figuring out how to get to tomorrow. It is only now, and in the weeks and months ahead that we can begin to really grieve, to feel the magnitude of what this year has meant. To feel and begin to understand how we and the world have been irrevocably changed by what has happened. It is a time to be gentle with ourselves. To have compassion for ourselves and each other. 

And so it may seem like an impossible task that we are being asked today. To work at being more present. But here’s the thing. I think it might actually be the key to no longer feeling weary and anxious. Because being present has rewards that far outweigh the challenges. Being present enables us to build connections with each other. It reminds us that we are not alone. Remember it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. Remember that smiles (even behind a mask) are the good kind of contagious. When you see someone else smile, when you have helped make someone else smile, how can that not bring joy to our hearts? 

No doubt there are days when we feel empty and depleted. That’s okay. This has been a hard time. And we don’t have to stay that way. None of us has to do this alone. We are all in this together. If we can be more present to each other, we will build each other up. Together we can have what we need to move forward into the glorious future God has in store for us. Amen. 

Healing, Wholeness, and Faith

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

October 13, 2020 

Psalm 10; Jonah 1:1-17a; Luke 8:40-56

 

Hearing this Gospel story today is a powerful reminder for me that the stories of Scripture continue to speak to us, no matter how many times we have read them.  As you might imagine, these stories of healing have always had particular significance for me. In my own spiritual journey as a cancer survivor, I have struggled with what it means to be healed.  So often the healing stories in the Gospels are miraculous ones that seem to provide a complete restoration to health.  Yet that is so often not our own experience.  

Alongside the healing of Jarius’ daughter, there is another story of healing that happens while Jesus is on the way to the house.  He heals a woman who has been bleeding for 12 years.  Jesus says to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well, go in peace and be healed of your disease.”  This is another miracle story, but there is something very profound for me in that statement, “your faith has made you well.”  For me that statement shows me that healing is about more than the absence of disease.  It is through faith that we can be restored to wholeness.  It is not about whether our scars disappear or our physical challenges go away completely.  The gift of faith enables us to be whole people no matter our physical limitations.  Our identity as children of God has much more to do with the strength of our faith than with the strength of our bodies.

For me these Gospel stories of healing ask us to reimagine our understanding of what it means to be “cured” or made well or whole. If a cure is just about the absence of disease and we do not have to walk the often challenging road of healing, then we may also miss out on the lessons that can be learned along the way.  It has been my experience that some profound moments of perspective, of deep connection to God, and even moments of joy, are found when we have experienced deep pain. 

A friend once asked me, if I had to do it all over again would I choose to have cancer?  Well this may sound strange to you, but actually the answer is yes.  Now,  of course, part of the reason I say that is because I am healthy today. And yet truly the benefits and gifts of my experience outweigh the pain and challenges. I met so many wonderful people and had opportunities I otherwise would not have had. Most of all I was given another perspective. I had to face my own mortality as a teenager, when most of my peers were convinced they were invincible. I learned firsthand how precious and fragile human life is. This perspective helps me live each day a little more fully and to be more aware of all the blessings I have. It helps me not to take things for granted, for we never know how long we have.

I also believe that in a subtle way the Gospel lesson is hinting at this broader idea of healing, when Jesus heals Jarius' daughter, he does not let the focus be on his miraculous efforts, rather he focuses on the needs of the daughter so that she may be brought back into the family life and may live life fully.  A reminder that the real object of healing is to bring us more fully into a place of living faithfully. Healing may or may not be physical, but if we can live in faith, find peace, and live fully into each day, then maybe, we all shall be healed. Although the reality of that healing may not be what we had initially hoped or desired. This story tells us that Jesus is there in our places of pain and suffering, amidst all the challenges. We are all too aware in these days and times of the realities of human suffering. 

        There is an invitation today to find peace and joy even amidst our suffering and our pain.  To remember that God is there walking the road with us.  God knows our suffering all too well. God weeps with us in our pain. God embraces us and offers us hope.  We have hope in Love, in forgiveness, and redemption. Hope in the all important truth that no matter what we are not alone in our suffering.

I also think it is important for us to see another invitation to hope and possibility in this Gospel story. It is about our interactions with others.  I am struck by how many people in the crowd around Jesus were discouraging. The crowd believed Jarius’ daughter was dead.  They did not think it was worth Jesus time or effort.  Some laughed at him when he told them not to mourn and not be discouraged, because the child was only sleeping.  Jesus did not only offer the gift of healing to the daughter or the woman who was bleeding.  He offered  it to all who are witnesses.  As I am sure you all have experienced, those of us who have been witnesses to moments of healing and transformation do not remain unchanged.  Witnessing God's transforming love at work in the world changes us.  Jesus offered the gift of wholeness to all those present with him on that day.  Yet so many there were so sure of themselves, so sure of their own ideas that they missed out on that invitation.

May we avoid that pitfall.  May we always be open to the ways that God is leading our lives and our relationships on paths of healing.  May we be open to following the journey to wholeness.  May we be open to the unexpected possibilities.  May our own need for certainty not blind us to the surprises God has in store for us.  May we continue to be transformed and healed as we witness the myriad of ways that God is at work in the world. AMEN.

When Miracles Don't Happen

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer 

Thomas Gallaudet & Henry Syle, August 27, 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. 

Our Diocesan Offices used to be located in a large house on Asylum Avenue in Hartford. I always thought this was an odd name for a street, as I assumed it referenced some long ago insane asylum in Hartford. The Asylum Hill neighborhood is a notable one, it contains the homes of Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mark Twain. But the Asylum in the name is not for an insane asylum, it is for the “The American Asylum at Hartford for the Education and Instruction of the Deaf & Dumb Persons” founded in the early 1800s. That school is now known as The American School for the Deaf and is located a few blocks from my house in West Hartford. It is actually quite fitting that our Diocesan Offices used to be on Asylum Ave, for the School for the Deaf and the history of the Episcopal Church in CT (and beyond) are very much linked. Today we remember and honor two priests, Thomas Gallaudet (whose father founded the School for the Deaf) and Henry Syle, who was the first deaf priest in The Episcopal Church. 

Our Church has a long history in ministering with the deaf community through education and various parish based ministries. I am finding that history and the examples of Thomas and Henry to be helpful in nuancing my reading of today’s Gospel. Of course, as one might expect today we get a story of Jesus healing a deaf man. I will admit to finding these healing stories challenging. They are wonderful and glorious, of course. But I cannot help but think of people I know who have been blind or deaf who would have loved to have such a miracle cure. They never did. 

How are we supposed to sit with that? How are we supposed to sit with any seemingly insurmountable problem for which we desperately desire a quick and simple solution? If only Jesus were here to instantly fix whatever is wrong. Don’t we wish that were true! 

This is where I think the lives of Thomas and Henry are so helpful. No doubt we (and probably they too) wish for miraculous solutions to the difficulties we face. And yet they do not always happen. So what did Thomas and Henry do? Did they sink into a deep depression and give up? No, they did what they could. And what they could was a lot. Their ministries educated and empowered people who were often at the margins of society, particularly in a time when there was no technology for hearing aids or cochlear implants. 

So I think sometimes we get to be Jesus. Sometimes we encounter challenges that we have exactly the skills to handle. I feel extraordinarily grateful that my children are still at the age where almost all their difficulties can be solved with a conversation and a lot of hugs. I know the days will come (no doubt sooner than I would like) when that will no longer work or even be a welcome solution. They will face difficulties that I cannot fix. 

On those days, and whenever any of us encounter a problem that is beyond our skill set. I hope we will remember Thomas and Henry. We are not always called to make a problem disappear. Sometimes we are called to educate and empower. Sometimes we are called to walk with people and support them in learning to live with a new reality. 

This can be a struggle for those of us who love to fix things and have neat and tidy solutions. It can feel like a failure for us to be unable to make everything better. Thomas and Henry invite us to reimagine our definition of success. They invite us to remember that healing is about wholeness and the fullness of life, not necessarily about erasing a disease or impediment. Thomas and Henry remind us that the fullness of life is possible, even in the face of personal challenges or conditions that society would label as “other.” It is possible because we are a people of faith, and because we are blessed with teachers, mentors, friends and companions on the way who will help us figure out our own version of thriving. 

God is always inviting us to be a people of hope, to find new life. May we always have the grace and courage to accept that invitation. Amen. 

Bearing with one another in love

Bishop Charles Henry Brent

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer on Zoom
March 27, 2020
Commemoration of Bishop Charles Henry Brent


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. 

Oh my friends, somehow God and the lectionary committee know just what we need to hear. Just what we need and the world needs. “Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them . . .” I needed a story of healing and compassion today. I needed to be reminded that Jesus is here with us. That our God is a God of grace, a God of healing, and compassion.

Now I think first it is worth addressing the bit about healing. I think we can often think of healing as complete erasure of disease, as though it never happened. Now we already know that is not possible in these circumstances. Not everyone is going to make a miraculous recovery. In these circumstances, I find it helpful to remember that the resurrected Christ still had his wounds. We are not going to come through this crisis unscathed, as individuals or as communities. We are going to be wounded. And yet, even in the midst of all the suffering and the challenges, God’s healing love is at work in our hearts and in the world. We can trust in God’s abiding presence. We can trust that new life and new possibilities will come. We can trust that hope and transformation are real. We can be on the lookout for signs of grace and compassion each and every day. They are there, if we look.

And we can also be a sign of grace and compassion for each other. We are called to be a people of compassion. Here we are at the end of another week. For many of us this has been a week of adjustment. This working, parenting, living, doing everything at home thing has shifted from something temporary that we figured we might do for a few weeks to something we are going to likely be doing for months. I don’t know about you all, but I am tired. There is a heaviness in my heart and my soul. We are a people grieving so many losses. We are grieving deaths of people near and dear. We are grieving for the ever rising death toll around the world. We are grieving the loss of freedom. We are grieving the loss of how we used to live our daily lives. We are grieving the inability to be in the same room and touch people who mean the world to us, which makes us grieve the fact that we cannot do our grieving together. We are also grieving the loss of dreams, of hopes, of plans for our future. We are grieving so much. We know that when this is all over the world is going to look so very different.

We are grieving so much, in so many ways. First and foremost we need to have compassion for ourselves. Let us be gentle with ourselves in these days. We will not be able to do everything we want to do, and we will not be able to do it to the standard we normally set for ourselves. That is okay. Today is a day for us to allow good enough to be good enough.

It is also a day to have compassion with our family and our friends. My husband, our two kids and our dog are all in our house together all the time now. We love each other a great deal. We have space. We have plenty of food. We can go out for walks. And we are not used to being all together all the time while also trying to do work and school and worrying about the state of the world. Getting on each other’s nerves is inevitable in this time. So we need to be compassionate with each other as well.

And we all need to be compassionate with each other in this time. It is important to remember that “compassion” literally means “feeling with.” We need to feel and understand the myriad of new challenges we are all facing at this moment. We need to remember that we are in this together, and we have so many examples to follow among the ancestors of our faith. Bishop Brent, who we remember today, is certainly one. He became Bishop of Western New York, after a long tenure as the Missionary Bishop of the Philippines, in 1918. Just in time to lead that diocese through the Spanish Flu Pandemic. In the Philippines Brent had been active in combating the scourge of opium addiction, from that holy work and from a prayer he wrote, we get a sense of what kind of a leader Brent was. He was one of compassion and care. His prayer is one of the prayers for Mission that we pray in Morning Prayer. Brent wrote:

“Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen.”

Indeed we are called to reach forth our hands in love. Or as our passage for today from Ephesians says, we are called to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love.” My friends, we are indeed called to bear with one another in love. There is much to bear today, and there will be more tomorrow. Let us hold fast to our conviction that the way through this is to reach forth our hands in love, to have compassion for ourselves and for each other. We can get through this, together. AMEN.