Healing Prayers
I saw the strangest thing the other night that caught
me off guard. On the evening news, there was a broadcaster, I think he
was talking about how the market fared that day. At any rate, while he
was reporting the news, I saw that he was actually wearing a cross,
made out of ashes, on his forehead. Now I know that's a familiar sight
for you and me, one that we can take for granted, many of us having
just worshiped together for Ash Wednesday, but I don't ever recall
seeing an ashen forehead with a cross on a journalist reporting the
news live. Now, if you compare this one image to the multitude of other
images also flashing on the news screen this week, you would see a
stark contrast. What I saw on Monday and Tuesday were images of Mardi
Gras: of crowds, of floats, of streets filled with revelers. I saw
people, even journalists, wearing mardi gras beads and chefs teaching
cooking segments on how to prepare Fat Tuesday meals. The greater story
of course for all to see was that people so devastated by hurricane
Katrina had triumphed through their own ashes to be able to come
together courageously and celebrate what for them is a holiday
central to their identity. But if I were new to this planet and wanted
to know what people do on the last week of February, and the only
source of information I had was television, I would come away from the
week knowing how to prepare for Mardi Gras. But I would know nothing
about Lent, having seen no images of Lent, except for perhaps that one
clue -- the journalist wearing soot on his forehead for an evening
show.
How would we explain Lent to someone from another
planet? What images would we show? We would explain that Lent is a
period of waiting, a time for soulful reflection, a time for sacrifice,
a time for repentance, a time to ask for God's forgiveness, a time for
reckoning with the fact that "remember we are dust and unto dust
we will return." A time to give something up, a time to fast, a
time to seek out quietude and banish the noise. We would describe
images of Jesus being tempted by Satan in the desert, of disciples
struggling to watch and pray with Jesus in the darkest garden, of Jesus
abandoned at the cross.
But there is another image of Lent that sometimes is
forgotten. It's the simple image of people praying. In Lent, we are
invited to draw nearer to Jesus, to find time in our otherwise busy
lives to sit in a bit of silence and to come to God in prayer. In Lent,
I like to imagine people sitting in sanctuaries all over this world,
lighting candles in the darkness, bowing heads, folding hands together,
closing eyes, praying quietly yet fervently. And there's something
else I like to imagine about Lent too. It's the image of people being
healed, being made whole the more and more they pray.
During the first week of Lent, I've been blessed with
the opportunity to sit in this sanctuary for several days now alone and
pray. I look at the images of Jesus around me, my favorite being Jesus
the good shepherd carrying his lost sheep. I envision myself being
carried too. And then I feel some excitement. It dawns on me, Lent is
not just a time to give something up, it's a time to add something new.
I have a chance again, we all have a chance again, to make more time
for God, to drop everything, if only for a moment, to come to God anew
in prayer, to sit in silence so that God's still small voice may be
heard, to create the space God needs to draw us close and wipe away
every tear, to heal us.
"Are any among you suffering? They should pray.
Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church
and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of
the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will
raise them up."
There's something about Jesus that impressed me greatly
when I was at the divinity school. For all the extensive historical
research there is out there, what we know to be true and virtually
indisputable, is that Jesus was an extraordinary healer. Theologian
Marcus Borg writes: "More healing stories are told about Jesus
than any other figure in the Jewish tradition." I like to think
that if Jesus was such a powerful healer when he walked on earth, now
that he is the risen Christ, can you just imagine how his ability to
heal is magnified and even more expansive and transforming?
Dr. Herbert Benson, professor at Harvard Medical
School, founder of the Mind/Body Medical Institute at Beth Israel,
author of several books on prayer, meditation, and healing, says that he
receives five to six calls a week from HMO's asking him about
spirituality and healing because health care use has been found to be
lower among those who pray or meditate. Dr. Benson says, "If
spirituality were a drug, we wouldn't be able to make it fast
enough."
This Lent, we will hear stories again of how Jesus
healed…. But we will also hear Jesus' words, that we must go and
heal. Most of us aren't surgeons or shamans or even Reiki masters, and
yet Jesus asks us to heal. He called his disciples together and,
according to the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, "gave them
power and authority …to cure diseases, and sent them to proclaim the
kingdom of God and to heal." (Luke 9: 1)
Did you know that being a healing influence to
others is not as complicated as it seems? Did you know that the most
healing thing we can bring to people is just our presence? Psychologist
Joan Klansburg says that 80% of our conversations are nonverbal. 80% of
our conversations are nonverbal! This means we can communicate a lot of
love and care to another person without even having to say a word.
Showing up is what counts. Physician Rachel Naomi Remen, after years
and years of working with cancer patients, writes,
"I think the
greatest thing you can ever give someone else is your attention - not
with judgment but just listening."
Isn't just being present for a person in need a lot
easier than worrying about coming up with the right things to say? So
often when you're worrying about what you're going to say, words get in
the way. I learned this as a hospital chaplain. I entered the room of a
patient one day who was very ill. She was tired and weak and when she
saw me, I got the feeling from her expression that she wasn't up for a
visit. I introduced myself and asked if I could offer her a prayer. As
a hospital patient, sometimes you don't want to see the hospital
chaplain walking in. You think to yourself, "What is she doing
here?" The chaplain reminds you of death. You get paranoid,
thinking, "The doctor must have sent her here because I must be
dying." Well what I said next didn't help matters any. The woman
told me she wasn't up for a visit and wanted to sleep. She looked very
anxious. I got anxious. I wanted to put her at ease and let her know it
was okay to send me away. As I was struggling to come up with something
just right to say, I blurted out, "It's all right. May you rest in
peace." Judging from the look on her face, my words weren't very
healing to her. Worrying so much about what to say got in the way.
So this Lent, be present to one another and to God,
pray, listen, don't worry about what to say, show up. Let God's
healing power work through you. And remember -- you are more than
capable of being a healing presence to each other. That's how God made
you. James writes: "Therefore confess your sins to one another,
and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the
righteous is powerful and effective."
In a few minutes, we will have Holy Communion, followed
by an ancient church ritual of healing. We in our church have been busy
praying these days. There are quite a few who we know and love who need
healing and who we hope will be showered with the abundance of God's
comfort and love. Perhaps we come to this healing service today with
our own hurts and pains, and we are praying for our own relief. We know
that sometimes the healing that takes place is not so obvious.
Sometimes, we wish there was more healing we could see. But no matter
what happens, worship God today knowing that no matter what we can or
cannot see, healing is taking place. For even in the darkness, there is
God's light. The psalmist writes to God:
11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light
become night around me,"
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine
like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
May we be witnesses to God's healing light together
this day and through the days of Lent. Amen.
Copyright © 200 6
Gretchen L. Elmendorf. Used by
permission.
http://www.nhcc.net/sermons/Sermon20060305.htm
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