Merry Second Sunday After Christmas to one and all.

(graphic art supplied by David Watson of DavesDesigns)

The Second Sunday After Christmas 2004 (Epiphany)

Here I sit in a chair placed against the back wall of an unfamiliar church. It is the second Sunday after Christmas. The pews are almost filled.

I am alone, in this unfamiliar setting, looking for a solace that I haven’t found elsewhere.
Perhaps I will hear or see something new this morning.

From time to time I wonder about the question of God’s place in a world of suffering. Who hasn’t? Again this morning the question forces its way into my mind. No doubt there have always been, and probably always will be, sufficient pain in this world to cause us to pause and wonder about this unpleasant reality. But today, more than most days, I have a personal need of reassurance regarding this matter.

How can God oversee a world so broken and full of torments, sicknesses, deformities and indignities? Does anyone have a reason why we should accept the claim that God is all loving and all powerful? If not, then it seems to me that we all should just hold our peace, because hollow words spoken in the presence of real suffering are about as appropriate as the comfort offered to Job by his supposed friends.

This morning’s homily is pleasant and faithful to the season but it is not what I am looking for. As I look around the church from my safe position in the back, my gaze comes to rest upon an arresting figure off to my right.

Row upon row of half hearted worshippers kneels on cue. Each one assumes a posture of easy contrition. But one young man struggles awkwardly to maneuver his rebellious body into an attitude of excruciating humility. His parents lovingly guide him to the edge of his seat.

His small distorted frame will not bend sufficiently for its knees to touch the rest. As he struggles, his contortions describe a large ‘W’ suspended in the space between the pews. It reminds me of another image that haunts all mankind. It is the image of a bent, disfigured and bloodied body hung in humiliation between a gray earth and a black sky.

What exactly am I witnessing in this place?

Could this possibly be what I have come to this particular church on this specific day to see?
Genetics, environment, accident, injury or some other tragic occurrence or occurrences must have caused this young man’s unfortunate condition.
And while these causes conspired against this boy did God sit by and watch as he was formed and deformed by chance and circumstance?
As hard as I try, I can see no other answer except; either He did exactly that or He is not.
“His frame was not hidden from you when he was made in the secret place. When he was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw his unformed body.”
Psalm 113:15, 16
But at this moment I am seeing and experiencing much more than my customary sadness and disappointment in the face of this all too common situation.

I can plainly see that this young man’s body is physically challenged and constrained but spiritually his love and devotion is more worthy of their object than all the combined praises of this entire congregation.

His enslaved limbs taunt his piety like a row of callow youths in the back of an unmonitored school room. His disabilities seem to say, “You have little reason to offer Thanks and we can make sure you will never physically kneel to make that prayer!” But, this man’s face shines even as I imagine Moses’ did as the prophet came down from Mount Sinai. His frame may never prescribe the form of worship that is evidently being expressed within his soul yet I know he, if anyone, is in the company of God. And as I witness this miracle I believe I am also in the presence of something holy.

With a gentle tug of his father’s hand this young man slips back into his seat as the sad eyes and loving smiles of his mother tell him to rest.

The priest invites us to join in singing Carole #26. This time the parents rise alone. Perhaps they think that he has expended too much energy and so they leave him upon the pew. But he is worshipping and he will not be discouraged. After a moment of looking pleadingly up to his family, his shaking hands reach out to the seat in front. With a great effort he pulls himself up but falls back onto the bench. Again he reaches and forces his weakened and confused muscles to obey.
Like Peter’s denials on ‘that horribly, wonderful night’, this man’s body betrays him again and again.
But, Thanks Be To God, on the third try

...................................GLORIA INEXCELSIOUS DEO............................

……………………………………….JEFF STANDS!………………………………………

We all enjoy the beauty of the hymn but Jeff exalts in this triumph. In this moment, in this experience he has won over the rebellion of his body. He has joined the ‘angel choir’ in worshipping the ‘New Born King’. He has defeated the forces of exclusion that constantly come against him and today I have been privileged to witness this triumph of love and holiness.



Someday our bodies will betray us all, but Jeff’s example seems to say ‘be of good courage’, for we have seen how love, faith and will can overcome the bondage of this ‘body of decay.’ Instead of turning away from this truth perhaps we need to look fully onto it to take great comfort in it.

Jeff’s joyful struggle reminds me of how the first Christians suffered all sorts of indignities and deprivations in order to worship the One they loved. Indeed theirs was and is ‘a faith that overcomes the world.’

I think I have seen what I have been looking for. I have witnessed the ever present power of suffering here but Jeff have testified to me today of the greater power which is love. And I feel compelled to confess that in some way his suffering and love are part of God’s good plan and perhaps even makes a contribution to my very salvation.

Something beautiful has been accomplished in this young man’s faithful struggle with disability and I thank God that today I have been given ‘ears to hear and eyes to see’ and a heart to feel it’.

Merry Second Sunday After Christmas Jeff, and indeed Merry Second Sunday After Christmas to one and all.

LH