The Pool of Sending (Lent 4A)

The Pool of Sending 

22 March 2020

Fourth Sunday in Lent Year A

1 Samuel 16:1-13; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41; Psalm 23

Live-streamed Said Ante-Communion with organ and hymns

Trinity Episcopal Church, Ashland, Oregon

The Rev. Dr. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, homilist 

God, take away our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh.  Amen

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. 

This last week, we saw hoarding of food, medicines, hygiene products, and, sadly, a doubling or trebling of gun and ammunition sales, presumably to kill anyone even thinking of raiding our toilet paper hoard.

But then, we saw our neighborhoods, circles of friends,  and diverse faith communities rally together to care for each other in unprecedented ways.  Here at Trinity, we’ve had large numbers of people attending Church services every single day via live streaming on Facebook or interactive Zoom video conference. An enhanced pastoral care team has been calling every single member of the parish to check on welfare, condition, and needs, and to pass on needed information in these scary times.  Though in some ways we are all shut-ins in this environment, some parishioners more able to get out have been going on grocery or pharmacy runs for others less able to brave public venues even with physical separation rules and anti-contagion hygienic practices in place.   One near-80-year-old, wanting to respect the isolation rules but unwilling to forsake friendship and mutual support, took a bottle of wine and a single glass, and went to an unaccompanied neighbor’s home, and, sitting 6 feet apart and touching no surfaces, shared wine the friend (each with their own bottle and glass), helping them both break out of a blue funk.  I have received out of the blue from three separate parishioners checks for $1,000 for the parish almonry, to help those in the parish who are struggling due to lost income.  And most of you, now that you don’t have a collection plate to place it in, have begun to now send in your pledges, tithes, and offerings by mail.  Blessings all around in a hard time. 

In times like these, we often ask “Why did this have to happen?” or even “Who is to blame?”  Some self-styled Evangelicals have said the Covid-19 contagion is God’s punishment because of our wickedness, or the wickedness of the Chinese.  Such a blame game makes us unable to respond to the catastrophe in a positive or helpful manner.  It places the blame not only on the flavor of the day target—be it foreigners, gays, lesbians, trans people, working mothers, people who seek or give abortions, socialists, or communists.  Above all, it places the blame on GOD, who supposedly is cursing us for wickedness.   Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

When Jesus hears his followers ask, “Why? Who is to blame for this man born blind?” he turns it around:  don’t ask who to blame, but ask how to help.  “Neither he nor his parents sinned; but God intended it so that I may have the chance to heal him!” 

He stops, spits into the dirt and makes a bit of mud with which to smear the man’s eyes.  He then sends him to wash it off in the pool of Siloam.  He does so, gains his sight, and becomes a witness to Jesus. 

The disability and hardships of the man born bind are a symbol for the disabilities and hardships we all live with.  Note at the end of the story:  Jesus’ opponents are spiritually blind though they physically see; the man once blind now has clear vision both in body and soul.  At different times, we are all that man born blind, or those opponents of Jesus. 

Jesus here takes the initiative, not the blind man. He mixes mud and heals the man without being asked.  It is an act of creation, like in Genesis 3, where Yahweh as a potter sculpts the mud into a human being before breathing on it to give it life.  

Jesus sends the man to the pool of Siloam, the pool of “sending.”  This is the same landmark that appears in the Isaiah cycle of stories: King Ahaz was afraid of not having enough water in the city to withstand a siege by the Assyrians, so he prepared to manage his fears by making an alliance with Assyria.  No, Isaiah told him, trust that God will provide adequate water for the city in the spring of Siloah, located within the walls.  The King, doubtful, turns to the Assyrians, ultimately to his ruin and the ruin of his people.  God speaks to Isaiah in an oracle, “this people has refused the waters of Shiloah that flow gently, and melt in fear before” the local tyrants. (Isa. 8:6).  It is to this spring that Jesus sends the blind man. 

Jesus sends the cured man to the “Pool of Sending”; Jesus here says “I must do the work of my father who sent me into the world.”  Later in the Gospel, the risen Lord says to his followers,  “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”  He then breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit" (John 20:21-22).   When Jesus heals us, he sends us to others bearing the joy of resurrection and healing, powered by his Spirit.  

For whatever reason we have been sent into isolation.  Let’s not ask that “why, on what account” question.  It is scary and it is unfamiliar.  We might feel like a small child sent for a time out, fearful of what else might come from an angry parent.  But remember, God loves us, and hates nothing he has made.  He is “slow to anger and of great kindness.”

Don’t ask,  “Who’s to blame.”  

Remember Fred Roger’s words of advice to children afraid of scary events in the world:  When bad things happen, look for the helpers.  We’ve seen plenty so far, and will see plenty more.  More than just looking for the helpers, let’s try to BE helpers.   

For right now, at least for the next few weeks, the single most important thing we can do to help is stay 6 feet away from others, despite our feeling of isolation, and our fear.  Practice good hygiene, with thorough hand-washing, cough-covering, staying home when sick, and surface sanitizing, even it we feel a little foolish at times and wonder if it’s overblown.  Rest assured: It is not overkill. 

I saw a meme earlier in the week:  Don’t wash your hands to keep from being infected.  Assume you’re already infected, and wash to keep others from getting sick.   Wash them not out of fear, but out of love.  Don’t blame, but find ways to help. 

We do not come to God through our own efforts.  It is God who stops and smears our eyes with mud, who creates us anew, and gives sight.   We’ve been doing a lot of praying of late.  But this is because it changes us, not because it changes God’s heart.  It is not our piteous cries “Save us from the plague” that move God to help us, God already intends just that.  However good it is for our hearts to reveal such deeply felt need to God. 

God knows what we need better than we do, and wishes ill for none of his creatures.    Like the blind man, we may beg for a few crusts of bread, for enough sustenance to get through the day, and Jesus gives him sight.  We may pray for a health and a flattening of the infection rate curve. God may or not grant us what we seek.  But the important thing is this: God has things in mind for us things that are, in the words of the Prayer Book, “more than we can ask or imagine.”  

In all of this pain and fear, there is grace.  The best of times, the worst of times.  It is important that we respond to grace, and let it blossom, not feed our fear, diminishing us.

When God, for his own purposes and in his own time, reaches out to heal us, he sends us.  It is one and the same thing.  He asks us to wash the mud off.  Wash not in fear, but in love. 

To the pool of Siloam, we must go.  And if we trust him, we do what he asks even if it doesn’t correspond to what it was that we thought we wanted.  We trust even through our fear and disappointment. And we care for each other, even when we must preserve physical separation. 

We have had people who are not part of the parish call and email asking to be put on our email distribution because they want to participate in our virtual way of doing Church in this hard time.  An unexpected interesting blessing, more than we have asked or imagined.  But it is evangelism, it is mission, it is sending. 

Beloved ones—keep the faith, trust God!  The Church may have left the building, but it is alive and well in all of us, separate though we must be.  We are the body and blood of Christ, broken to feed the world, even though at this time we cannot share in real food at Christ’s table. 

Jesus asked that man to wash off the mud from his eyes—we are asked to wash our hands often and thoroughly.  Jesus sent him to a public spring.  We now are sent to be off on our own for several weeks.

Why did this health crisis happen?  How did we get to this point?  Who knows?  Epidemiologists need to ask this to find a way of stemming the contagion.  Policy makers may need to ask it to draw lessons learned to avoid making the same errors again.  But we need not ask why, at least not right now.  Asking not why, but how to help, we find in this pandemic a chance to learn to love each other in new ways, serve one another more deeply, comfort and support each other, showing Christ’s healing love in this troubled, troubled world. 

In the name of Christ, Amen.