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Sermon #58 (17th April 2022 at Essex Church \/ Kensington Unitarians)<\/strong><\/p>\n Last Monday \u2013 no, Tuesday \u2013 it was sometime past midnight, I was sat with my dad \u2013 my 85-year-old dad \u2013 in a pretty crowded A&E waiting room at the Royal London Hospital over in Whitechapel. We\u2019d been there since teatime, nine hours, advised by 111 to go and get him urgently checked out for a symptom that was potentially ominous (he\u2019s fine now, by the way, turns out it was nothing too serious in the end, but that\u2019s not the point of me telling you about this). I just want you to imagine the scene. In the A&E waiting room, in the early hours, surrounded by human suffering and grim-faced endurance, people in all manner of states of pain, misery, and disrepair, each with their own personal \u2018cross to bear\u2019. Nobody wants to be in A&E at 3am on a Tuesday morning \u2013 neither patients nor staff \u2013 unless you are driven there by urgent need or dire suffering and you\u2019ve got nowhere else to turn.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Once the initial assessment had been made, they told us to go home, get some sleep (though not much), and come back the following afternoon for a follow-up scan and a decision on treatment. They would see dad in the \u2018Ambulatory Care\u2019 clinic. The phrase caught my ear: Ambulatory Care. I thought: \u2018Ambulatory means walking, doesn\u2019t it? This is a clinic for the walking wounded.\u2019<\/p>\n Let me take a few steps back, though. Like I said at the start of the service, today we are reflecting on the Easter story and attempting to draw out those aspects of it that can speak to our condition in the here and now \u2013 in a world that\u2019s going through a time of great turmoil and instability \u2013 and in which we know so many people are suffering in so many ways. We might think of the news headlines, some of those stories in which we are not directly involved perhaps, but which cause us such angst and anger to witness. The horrifying scenes coming out of Ukraine and the plight of refugees \u2013 especially in the light of the government\u2019s proposals to \u2018process\u2019 (horrible word) asylum seekers in Rwanda \u2013 such dreadful stories are a source of second-hand suffering for many of us right now. But, for many of us, the suffering is getting ever closer to home, with the cost-of-living crisis, and the disintegration of the health, welfare, and social care system, having a significant and widespread impact on quality of life. And, of course, the last two years of the pandemic have certainly taken their toll on us all. Lest we forget, many, many people have died of Covid-19, and many more have long Covid, their lives have been suddenly changed \u2013 perhaps forever \u2013 as they learn to live with chronic illness and disability. Many relationships have broken up under the strain of lockdowns, people have lost their jobs and livelihoods, and the lack of social connection has been largely dreadful for mental health. But there are so many other sources of personal suffering we could name. \u2018All is Dukkha\u2019 as the Buddhists say.<\/p>\n For me, the Easter story is primarily about suffering, and the transformation of suffering. And this is why it is such a powerful story, one that\u2019s so vital for us to engage with, in times like these. You don\u2019t have to believe in the literal bodily resurrection of Jesus (or indeed any element of the story) as historic fact in order to let the story have its way with you and maybe even offer a little hope. But to do that we have to see it as a universal, archetypal, story \u2013 one which can speak to the patterns of human life \u2013 and Holy Week certainly takes us through a rollercoaster of human experience: triumph, betrayal, downfall, denial, cruelty, suffering, death and defeat; silence and despair; and then\u2026 what next? Resurrection, somehow. An astonishing, inexplicable, return from a bleakness which seemed utterly final and inescapable. But Jesus isn\u2019t quite the same figure he was before. His mates don\u2019t even recognise him at first. They mistake him for a gardener, a fellow traveller. It\u2019s not like the clock was just turned back a week and everything restored just as it was before crucifixion. He\u2019s still here, but he is transformed. And he is visibly wounded. The gory evidence of his suffering is plain for all to see.<\/p>\n Perhaps this is where the story can speak to us, right now, how it might resonate in our lives. For, in a sense, we are all the walking wounded. At least, all of us who survive the initial blows of whatever it is life has thrown at us, so far. That\u2019s what I was thinking when I looked round the A&E waiting room at 3am on Tuesday morning, at all my companions, all of us who would rather have been tucked up in bed instead of waiting and hoping for our names to be called and for care to be given. None of us get through this life without enduring some turbulence, at least, along the way. We mustn\u2019t conveniently forget those who have not made it through the worst of life\u2019s trials \u2013 that would be survivorship bias \u2013 it\u2019s important to realise that in some sense those of us who made it this far, the \u2018walking wounded\u2019, are the lucky ones. But for those of us who are still here, on the other side of Easter \u2013 having endured our own \u2018cross to bear\u2019 \u2013 what might we take from the story? How might it speak to our condition?<\/p>\n These days we hear a lot about trauma \u2013 individual and collective \u2013 and its lasting impact. I\u2019ve heard it said that the collective trauma of the pandemic is going to take us years to work through (this is something that Unitarian Universalist leaders in the US have been taking very seriously over the last year). I\u2019m no trauma expert but one understanding that makes sense to me was laid out by UU minister Elizabeth Strong, who has a PhD in \u2018trauma-informed worship\u2019, and she says: \u2018trauma, at its root, is any experience that sort of shatters our experience of reality. So, it breaks us open; it breaks us apart; it causes a rupture in our self-understanding and our understanding of how the world works. Pretty much everybody experiences trauma at some point or another in their life.\u2019 (end quote) Yes, trauma varies in its level of intensity, and some people are carrying a great deal more than others. But it seems that pretty much nobody gets through this life unscathed. Such suffering is universal. I suspect that all of us carry at least a few wounds \u2013 be they visible or invisible \u2013 whether physical, emotional, or spiritual \u2013 or maybe they\u2019re old scars by now, somewhat healed and hidden away.<\/p>\n Before I end this short reflection, I wanted to share a little excerpt from a piece by Nadia Bolz-Weber, the famously (and enjoyably) sweary and tattooed rock\u2019n\u2019roll Lutheran pastor. She published this a year ago and I think it really helps to connect the Easter story and our recent collective experience. It\u2019s a letter to God written just as the first vaccines being rolled out and first little shoots of hope were emerging. She wrote: \u2018Dear God\u2026 many of us are stepping into the first light of a post-pandemic dawn\u2026 and one minute I want to run full speed and the next I am unable to move. If I talk too much about what was lost, I feel like a bummer, but if I talk at all about the unexpected gifts, I feel like I\u2019m callous. And I\u2019m not sure I can ever be who I was before, but I\u2019m also not totally sure who everyone else is now, either. My Easter request is this: Help us remember that resurrection isn\u2019t reversal, that as we return to life, we are carrying our own wounds from loss and isolation. But we are also emerging with new beauty and new wisdom. We are not who we were. But we do get to discover who we are. Help us not foreclose on each other. Maybe just grant us a holy curiosity for a while? Please give me courage to trust the hope I feel right now. Save me from squandering this moment of new life. Remind me that all the fear and cynicism in the world never protects me from pain and disappointment in the way I think they will. Give us back to each other when the time is right. May we recognize you, our wounded and resurrected God, in our laughter and our tears\u2026and maybe \u2026 even in each other.\u2019<\/p>\n Words by Nadia Bolz-Weber which spoke powerfully to me and I hope they resonated with you too. It seems important to keep this understanding \u2013 \u2018we are not who we were\u2019 \u2013 in our awareness now. We have survived, but we are transformed, and we\u2019ve been wounded too. So, let us remember to take great care with ourselves and each other, as we attempt to discern the way forward, together, in love.<\/p>\n And let\u2019s reprise Cliff Reed\u2019s words as a blessing:<\/p>\n The faith of Easter is that beyond darkness We are called to be messengers of hope When the crisis passes, may each of us be able We are living through a bitter, fearful spring, Sermon by Jane Blackall<\/strong><\/p>\n An audio recording of this sermon is available:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n
\nThere is light, beyond sorrow there is joy,
\nBeyond death there is life.<\/p>\n
\nAnd compassion to each other,
\nTo our neighbours and to the world.<\/p>\n
\nTo reflect that we didn\u2019t altogether fail the test
\nOf love, conscience, and humanity.<\/p>\n
\nBut it will come to an end, and we\u2019ll see
\nSummer come again. Amen.<\/p>\n