Sermon from the 7th Sunday after Pentecost

My sermon from on Sunday. Let me know what you think...

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Emma Lazarus was a famous American Poet. One particular poem brought her great fame. I can almost guarantee that everyone in this room has heard this particular poem. It has been cited in movies, books, tv shows, and on one particular monument:
"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed,
sunset hates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch,
whose flame Is the imprisoned lighting,
and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon hand glows world-wide welcome;
her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips.
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
This particular monument and poem has come to mean a great deal to many Americans. Some see it as a symbol of Freedom; Lady Liberty standing tall holding the flame of Justice and lighting America’s way as our country strives to grant freedom to all. For others, and maybe for some in this room, the statue of Liberty was the first thing they saw as their boat traveled from eastern hemisphere. Some came in search of starting over; for a chance to give their children the opportunity they did not have. For those that fled Europe to escape the Nazi regime they saw the Statue of Liberty as a second chance at life just as Christians see the Cross as our second chance at life.

Our world has come very far from the days of World War I and II; since the days of Ellis Island where immigrants were treated as second-rate people. The need for conquering land and individuals has been taken over by the need to take care of one another and the planet that we live on. Human and civil rights have become more important to us but this does not mean suffering is no longer with us. There are people who are still oppressed: Racism still goes on in our country, the oppression of women is still all to well apparent but we have made many great strides to end these oppression. But oppression is not the only kind of suffering left in this world. Sickness, loss of personal independence, and pain on a number of different level are all apart of suffering. These moments of suffering and pain can all cause us to ask the question, “Where is God?” or “Why is this happening to me?” Sometimes we question it about ourselves and other times we question it for someone else.

I can remember one particular patient and his family I had a few weeks ago where I asked these two questions “Where is God?” or “Why is this happening to him?” It was my first on call shift and it was a very busy night filled with Traumas, emergencies in the ED, and end of life decisions. This particular patient came into the emergency room while I was tending to a Trauma. The Trauma surgeon pointed him out to me as they wheeled him past the Trauma room. The paramedics were doing CPR on him. With every passing minute the man’s condition got worst and worst and I had to make the dreaded phone call at one in the morning; “Sir you need to come to the emergency room right away, your loved one is very sick.” I was afraid that this man would die alone because his brother lived very far away. None of us were really sure if this man had any real significant family other than his brother. We knew he was divorced and only listed his brother as an emergency contact. A few hours pass and the receptionist finally paged me and told me that the patient’s brother had arrived. It is about 2 in the morning at this point. I go and find a doctor who can give this man more that just the basic information that I had. The cardiologist came in and told the brother that the patient has had a massive heart attack; the only reason he is still alive is because of the dozen of drugs forcing his heart to beat. They were not sure if he would survive the night let alone be able to recover from the lack of oxygen to the brain. When I left the brother upstairs I prayed in the elevator telling God that it is not fair that this man should die alone and that his brother have nobody else to morn with. I asked the question, “Where are you God? This man needs you right now.” A little bit later I was called back to the room. The patient took a turn for the worst and the nurse said the brother just needed someone to sit with. We both sat quietly in the room as the nurses did their job. I prayed my prayer once again to myself. We watched as his lungs were no longer working and the ventilator had to literally force the air into his body. It was very violent to watch this. I was about to lose hope but then out of nowhere the nurse comes in and asks me to go downstairs and meet the man’s sister and his husband. And when I returned later that afternoon I say 10 more family members in the waiting room.

The patient still died but his family was there to hold his hand. They were there to tell him that they loved him. They were there to comfort each other. The same suffering, pain and loss that we see every day whether it be on the news or in the hospital rooms is the same suffering, pain and loss that was around Jesus some 2000 years ago. Not only was the pain of an illness horrible but there was also the social outcast that the person felt as well. But Jesus does something different as we hear in our Gospel lesson today:
“When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.”
Jesus went and found the sick—the outcasts. Jesus touched the unclean and by undoing this he became unclean. But that didn’t matter and Jesus shows us that today for we are all outcast because of our sin. But Jesus come and touches us—freeing us from our bondage; our captivity to sin. What Jesus taught was that the sick, the unclean, the outcast of our society (whoever that may be) do matter. We are all created in the image of God and therefore we are all entitled the same. No illness, no disease, nothing will separate us from that love. God meets us half way and when we can’t walk, God meets us all the way. God comes into our towns and cities; into our homes and workplaces and touches us and promises to stay with us. So now the next time we hear Emma Lazarus’ famous poem, let it remind us that God is also saying those words to us;
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"