A Sermon by Pastor Tom Lacey . . .

Christ is … Healer

Luke 5:12-16, Preached by Tom Lacey at Congregational Church of Boca Raton, September 10, 2006

A pirate comes walking into a dockside tavern. He has a wooden leg, a hook instead of a hand, and a glass eye. He sits down at the bar and orders a beer. The curious young man sitting next to him asks the pirate how he came to have a wooden leg. The pirate replies, "Well, I was standing on the deck of me ship one day and a wave washed me overboard, then a shark came along and bit me leg off." The young man then asks, "Well then, how did you lose your hand?" To this the pirate answered, "Many years ago, I was fighting the British and one of the dastards cut me hand off! They couldn't find a hand, so they put this hook on me." The young man then asked, "How did you get the glass eye?" The pirate replies, "I was standing on the deck of me boat, and a bird crapped in me eye." "That's it?” the young man says, “No fantastic story? Just a bird dumped in your eye and you lost it?" "Well,” the pirate says, “it was the first day with me hook...." We can’t be healed of everything, but, you know, you’ve got to try.

In Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art, there is a piece of art entitled "America's Joyous Future.” As contemporary artists often do, Erika Rothenberg utilized a piece of everyday life, in this case a small church bulletin board. She spelled out life at one local congregation in simple white letters against a stark black background. Evening at 7 in the Parish Hall: Mon. Alcoholics Anonymous; Tue. Abused Spouses; Wed. Eating Disorders; Thur. Say No To Drugs; Fri. Teen Suicide Watch; Sat. Soup Kitchen; Sunday Sermon 9 a.m. "America's Joyous Future" James P. Wind, "Places of Healing," Congregations, November-December 1997. Kind of crazy, huh? But this is our world, at least Monday through Saturday. But then there’s Sunday. What do you think? Either that pastor has no clue what’s happening in the real world or, since everybody needs healing, the church ought to be the place where you can find some. The fact is: There is no less need today for the healing power of Jesus Christ than there was when he physically touched the lives of those who sought and surrounded him. So seek the Lord. Let Jesus touch you where it hurts. Tell him what you need, and let him bring the healing.

 What we want to see today is that to be helped and healed doesn’t take a hero. It takes instead humility. Listen: A general named Naaman came to the Old Testament prophet Elisha, and asked to be healed of his leprosy. When Elisha told him simply to wash in the Jordan River seven times, Naaman spat out his indignation. “That’s all. I could do that in my own river,” and left. His servant, however, calmed him down, asking him, “If the prophet had asked you to go and do a great thing, would you not have done it? Well, now, why not when all he says is, ‘Wash and be clean?’” Perhaps we don’t follow easy instructions because it would signify that the problem isn’t as intractable and unrelenting as we make it out to be. What if my still being unhealed is merely my stubbornness? What if we are really afraid of being hurt again, and so we prefer to hang on to what we know rather than risk the future? In our pride and lack of faith, we lower ourselves unto sickness. We ought to humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord, so that God will lift us up, heal and strengthen us.

You see, we don’t need to know the answer. We just need to know where to go to get the answer. Read any of the four gospels and you can’t help but notice how frequently Jesus touched people physically. Ever wonder what his hands looked like? As a former carpenter, they must have been strong, callused, and scarred, but they also had in them a power of a different nature. Everybody he touched was helped. A leper falls on his knees and shouts to Jesus, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." Leprosy was a slow, agonizing, terminal illness. Notice the keen physician’s eye of Luke. The other gospel writers just note that the man was a leper. But Luke tells us that he was covered with leprosy; he had a severe case. Perhaps he was missing several fingers or a nose. The leper’s encounter with Jesus must have happened near the edge of town because lepers were not allowed to enter towns. In fact, they had to stay at least twenty paces from a healthy person. I wonder how this leper knew about Jesus. Perhaps he had a loving wife. Her heart was broken because she could not come within twenty paces of the husband she loved. But perhaps each day at sundown she brought some food to the old olive tree at the fork of the road to Nazareth. They sat at a distance and talked as he ate his meal. She longed to hold the sick man she loved, but could not. But perhaps she shared with him what she had heard about Jesus, that he was a man sent from God who had powerful healing capacities. The disciples must have been petrified as Jesus started moving toward the leper. The man with his face to the ground could see the sandals stop in front of him. “He is so close,” he thinks to himself. And then he feels his hand, his strong hand with compassion radiating from each finger, upon his head. The words “I do choose,” enter his ears and his soul, and he begins to weep from relief. And then he hears the command, “Be made clean,” and feels an almost physical sense of being blessed. But the words are not meant for his soul alone, but for all of him. First, at his head, he feels fresh skin grow, and it continues on his face, with new skin taking the place of the diseased flesh. Down across his shoulders, chest and over his legs, clean skin engulfs his entire body, and finally his toes are made new, whole, and strong. The man is completely well.

Why the touch? Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel has the famous painting of God giving life to Adam, the finger of God touching the finger of Adam, and life is given and shared. The touch. At other times, Jesus doesn’t touch someone to heal them. A paralytic he doesn’t touch and the centurion’s slave. And he doesn’t have to touch this man either, especially since he is contagious. But he does. It’s as if he did it in order to cross the boundary that kept the leper locked in and everyone else pushed out. Christ goes where no one will go, so that, in doing so, he might heal and “might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and … reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death the hostility through it.” There are times when Christ’s healing touch is simply the blessing of peace, which passes all understanding, and a reconciling of the body and the soul to God and to our loved ones. Christ’s greatest gift is helping us overcome our fear of death by the grace of love.

For two years, Berenice and family faithfully cared for her mother, also named Berenice, after she was diagnosed with cancer and a form of dementia similar to Alzheimer’s disease. At first, it was difficult, but there were bright moments. Our church organized a “Bridge” club so she could enjoy her favorite pastime. Her moments of forgetfulness and mood swings were endured as a phase of her disease. Over the last 12 months, her mother’s condition slowly worsened. Even the “Bridge” outings had to be canceled. As the cancer spread, the dementia took its toll on everyone as Berenice’s mother became increasingly frustrated, suspicious and moody. Often in this situation, mother becomes child: rebellious and argumentative. Yet, throughout the whole ordeal, Berenice continued to lovingly care for her. It wasn’t easy. Occasionally, Berenice would retreat to the church to pray, to think and to cry. Then, Berenice’s mother had a stroke and was admitted to the hospital. By this time, she no longer recognized anyone, and her occasional conversations could more accurately be described as incoherent ramblings. But she was also waving her arms more and at times even looked like she was holding an imaginary pen and attempting to write something. Honestly, no one thought anything of it. An alert nurse took note the gestures and finally suggested that Berenice put a pen in her hand and place a sheet of paper underneath. “I thought it was silly,” Berenice said later, but reluctantly followed the nurse’s instructions. Berenice’s mother paused for a moment, and then she began to slowly and deliberately write three extraordinary words: “I love you.” Four days later, she passed away. Larry Davies, “A miracle of hope in the midst of strife,” Sowing Seeds of Faith, August 7, 2002

There is such a power and desire in God to make all persons whole, in body, mind, and soul that miracles will never cease. Don’t accept life without the miracles included. Be a part of making them happen for you and for someone who needs them.

Eliza Zedeño had just settled into her office on the 73rd floor inside the north tower of the World Trade Center moments before the first plane struck the south side of the building. As she checked her voice mail, she felt the entire building shake. Next she heard bricks falling. Her mind raced back to the 1993 attack on the World Trade Center. She was stuck in an elevator after a truck bomb exploded in the basement of the north tower that killed six people and injured over 1,000. The work morning lull was quickly replaced with confusion and panic as Zedeño heard a coworker yell for everyone to get out of the building. But in her head, Zedeño screamed, "Not again, God! Not again," she recalls. Zedeño grabbed her personal belongings and ran for the stairs, making it out of the building minutes before it crumbled to the ground. Eighty-four of her colleagues from the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey never made it out. It wasn't always easy for Zedeño to talk about her experience. In fact, as the reality of the events sunk in, she spent many days after the attacks crying for the missing people, for the buildings that were gone, and dealing with a fear of impending doom. Today, however, Zedeño can describe the events without many tears. But the emotion will always be there.

After many months of therapy, Zedeño wanted to share her own lessons of healing with other survivors. She felt a need to tell others that, like her, they can overcome the feelings of weakness, helplessness and fear that have consumed so many victims post-9/11. She'd heard about a group of coworkers who met for support sessions. They soon formalized their support group and the World Trade Center Survivor's Network (WTCSN) was born. As one of the six founding members of WTCSN, Zedeño helps other survivors sort through the emotional scars of their experience during personal meetings and WTCSN's online forum. “I want to communicate to others that healing does exist.”

Healing definitely exists, as our bible says, “And they were healed, everyone.” Acts 5:16. Come to Christ with your need. Forgive those who hurt you. Pray for those whom you have hurt. And God will grant you the peace that heals body, mind, and soul.  

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