Be Still, Be At Peace!

Sermon preached at St. John's in The Wilderness, Glenbrook, Nevada on Sunday, June 24, 2012

I see significant overlaps between coronary heart disease and spiritual heart disease.  In coronary heart disease, the arteries of the heart get narrower as they become clogged with plaque.  As the arteries become narrow it is increasingly more difficult for blood to flow to the heart. When the heart is desperately short of blood to pump, the heart constricts and often produces a heart attack. 

The arteries to our spiritual heart also get clogged with a different kind of plaque that constricts our relationship and full compassion with and for others. The arteries to the spiritual heart often are clogged with fear. The disciples in the Gospel today experience spiritual heart disease while Jesus’ heart is unclogged and available to be present to the anxious disciples.

Have you ever been in conditions that felt dangerous but you learned later that they only felt dangerous?  Our feelings do not always equate with our reality. Our ability to discern reality becomes spiritually unreliable the more fear we carry in our hearts.

In the Gospel Jesus calms the raging waters for the disciples. Often this text is read as a miracle story of Jesus calming the waters of the sea. There is another way to understand today’s Gospel that provides us with spiritual sustenance for our daily lives. Jesus and the disciples are in the same boat, but they encounter the sea very differently. Jesus is calm. The disciples are terrified.  

I want to look at our diseased spiritual hearts when they are clogged with the disciples’ fear. When our human heart is out of control the body shuts down and has a heart attack.  When our spiritual heart is out of control, our capacity for compassion shuts down.  We are less likely to see with clarity the needs of people in their suffering.  With a lack of clarity we are of little help.

For the last eight months prior to coming to St. John’s Glenbrook I was working in North Philadelphia as a hospital chaplain at a level 1 trauma center.  In North Philadelphia each month there are 30 homicides coupled with numerous stabbings and other forms of violence that leave people dead or suffering torturous deaths. 

I lived in Center Philadelphia and commuted every day by subway to North Philadelphia.  In the first few months of my chaplaincy I was terrified coming and going from work on the subway. My fear constricted my spiritual heart and as a chaplain I was ineffective in situations of severe trauma. With each trauma I encountered my spiritual heart became more clogged and I became less available, less compassionate.

My inner heart came to a place of calm when I realized that my fears were greater than the risks of my reality.  A year ago a doctor was driving to work and was hit by a stray bullet.  Almost once a week people walking the neighborhood near the hospital were shot by a stray bullet and sometimes died.  These were real situations, but they were the exceptions.  Ten thousand people came to the medical center campus every day and they were safe.  Over the months to follow I became less anxious. In the midst of this North Philadelphia violent context I found an inner peace.

As I came to peace my inner clarity sharpened and I was better able to discern the families of my trauma patient’s emotions and needs. I knew when their rage at patient losses even their deaths was on the verge of violence and when their loud expressions were just routine grief.  As my spiritual heart became less clogged with fear I was able to see, hear and feel the pain of my patients in ways that allowed me to be more fully present to them. 

One night I was on-call I was called to the ER.  A young 17 year old African American boy returning home from his high school was shot multiple times.  He was brought to the ER and the docs worked on him for 30 minutes but they could not save him.  In the meantime over 30+ family members had gathered at the hospital.  That night a young, white medical resident had just rotated on to the ER service from another medical service.  It would be the first night that this young doctor would tell any parents that their young son, their baby had been killed.  I was called to the ER to accompany the doctor when she went to give the parents and family the news.

As we entered the family meeting room, the doctor without any preparation of the parents bluntly told them, “I am sorry your son did not make it.  He is dead!”  The mother upon hearing the news went into shock and fell to the floor.  The father uncontrollably wept. Some family members stormed out of the room. A few started to hit tables.  Some threw a couple of chairs and waste paper baskets across the room. 

The doctor looked at me and said, “Well do something about this”.  I said there is nothing to be done right now.  They are expressing their grief.  The inner waters of their hearts like the disciples had unsettled them and disrupted their life. Again, the doctor angrily said to me, “Well if you are not going to do anything, I will.”  She attempted to shame me, but I remained peaceful.  In a loud voice in ways that she attempted to speak over the family’s rage she said, “your behavior is unacceptable.  This is a hospital.  We have other sick people here and you must be quiet.” 

As soon as the family heard these words they became more enraged.  They chastised the young doctor as heartless, uncompassionate and yes racist.  The doctor was terrified at their response.  She experienced their inner rage as an imminent danger to her and others.  It was raging grief like the to believed raging sea in today’s Gospel.  I told the doctor to leave, but she refused. Once more she attempted to calm them down with her stern voice.  Then the family was even angrier.  Finally, I said to the doctor, “please leave now, I will come for you if they need you.”  She stormed away and was clearly angry at me.

I sat down outside the family meeting room.  The meeting room door had a window so the family could see me and I could see them.  I assumed a prayerful position.  I went to a deep place in me and spiritually communicated without words peace to those in the room.  In a few minutes all in the room were sitting peacefully.  They were still weeping, but now they were holding each other. 

Over the next 15 minutes I just sat and prayed.  One man, an older brother of the boy who had just died came out of the room to use the restroom.  Before he returned to the gathered family, I got up and said to him, “When you think it might be the right time, I would like to say a few words to your family.”  He went in told the family. I was immediately invited in to visit with them.

I immediately told them that my heart was broken for the loss that they had suffered.  I said to them, “this room is yours for as long as you need it tonight.  As you may have noticed I am sitting just outside. I am here if you need me.  I have some information that I need to share with you.  It is very painful news for me to share. Since your son is a victim of homicide, the state of Pennsylvania Medical Examiner will not let you see your son’s body until their investigation has been complete.  Not only have you lost your son, but you cannot see him.” 

I said these words with tears in my eyes.  A few family members asked for clarification and I calmly said, “yes you heard me right”.  I hurt with you and I am praying for you this night.  Use this room as long as you wish”.  I left quietly.

I went back outside and assumed my prayerful position.  The room was silent for over twenty minutes.  Then the family meeting room door opened and all the family walked out one by one in silence.  The father was the last and he hugged me and thanked me for my ministry.  I returned to the ER desk where I saw the doctor and she asked what happened, what did you do?  I gave them the space to grieve on their terms.

Like the disciples we have all been unsettled in different ways. Perhaps you felt the fear I felt riding the subway.  Maybe at one time you have been like the young doctor trying to control the family’s emotions.  We have all felt some sense of the grieving family’s emotion.  In these times Jesus is there to say to us, “be still, peace be with you.”

On this my last Sunday with you as your June supply priest, I pray for each of you that you may experience deep inner calm as members of St. John’s and as a congregation. You will know that you are deeply peaceful when you are undisturbed by the trials that you encounter and place your total trust in the Spirit of God.  Sometimes our hearts are open and we live like Jesus and sometimes our hearts are clogged with fear and we are like the anxious disciples. The good news is that Jesus is present in both the stormy and calm waters of our lives. Our single purpose is to be less anxious and to follow Jesus’ compassionate model.