The Collect for the Seventh Sunday of Easter:
O God, the King of glory, you have exalted your only Son
Jesus Christ with great triumph to your kingdom in heaven:
Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to
strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior
Christ has gone before; who lives and reigns with you and
the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
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Sometimes…unexpected things happen.
I had had many thoughts on our readings at the beginning of the
week.
But my life…and the lives of countless others in Tallahassee… took
a strange turn in the pre-dawn hours Friday morning.
It’s the same…or at least very familiar…experience many of us have
been having these past several months...where wind and rain have done more harm
than good to us…and those people and possessions we hold dear.
The National Weather Service has confirmed what many of us already
knew: we in Tallahassee had lived through a tornado….and it’s associated
straight-line winds of 100 miles per hour.
Those of us who paid attention to the weather the night before knew
that we were in for some rocky thunderstorms and strong winds.
But somewhere between 6:30 and 6:45 in the morning…the alarms on
our phones…and even off in the distance…signaled for us to seek shelter
immediately in an interior room.
And so we did.
A roaring sound of wind.
The exhaust fan overhead began rattling.
Rain pelted against the
house.
When it all had finally stopped…our phones starting vibrating with
texts.
“We have trees down, no power. We need to recharge batteries for an
oxygen machine. Who has power?”
“Huge tree branch cracked through our ceiling.”
“Our house was hit by the tornado. Our back porch is smashed to
pieces.”
“I smell gas in the neighborhood.”
“OMG. We’re calling the city.”
Gradually…all of us began emerging from our homes.
We met in the street…the rain still falling…but much more gently…as
we stepped carefully over downed wires and branches from trees…some of them
from trees we didn’t recognize.
A plastic drink cup here…a roof tile there.
A screen door bent open at this house.
And indeed…our neighbors’ washer and dryer on their elevated back
porch now looked like a Salvador Dali design…metal warped and tilted and
smushed together.
One neighbor couldn’t join us in the street.
A pile of busted trees limbs and large sections of a live oak had
practically barricaded her front door and the lock for the gate to their
backyard was on the outside.
Because they’re in the restaurant business…her husband had gone to
work hours earlier.
Some of their friends arrived.
I told them she was trapped inside.
One of them climbed over broken limbs and steady himself until he
reached the front door.
She was able to slip her hand out to give him the keys to back
gate.
Carefully…he retraced his steps over slippery branches and was able
to get around to unlock the gate and get her out of her house.
Smiles…and celebrations lasted for a few minutes.
Then it was back to the reality of this huge and daunting task.
When can we get someone here to get rid of these trees blocking the
street?
How can we cut up and lift these heavy limbs?
How can the city get our power back on with all this mess?
Only a half-mile away…the scene was even more bleak.
The growing and eclectic Arts District in a small former industrial
park called Railroad Square…had suffered huge losses.
This included the roof of the theater company that has been part of
my life since the early 1990s.
My friends….the neighbors whose back porch was mangled….now stood
inside this theater that they’d built and developed…creating a creative
community of writers and performers.
Now we stood with them…looking up through the trusses where the
roof once had been.
The blue theater seats soaked and sprinkled with pink insultation.
It was a lot to take in.
These are moments that any of us can relate to.
The underlying emotion is grief.
Grieving a profound and sudden loss.
It leaves one feeling numb…unmoored from everything else…and
plunged into a liminal space of neither here nor there.
It isn’t very often that you’ll hear me…or likely anyone…preach a
sermon on the words of the Collect for the Seventh Sunday of Easter.
But the phrase “do not leave us comfortless” has been playing on
repeat in my brain since about seven o’clock Friday morning.
In its context…the phrase is a prayer recognizing that last
Thursday…the church marked the fortieth day of the Easter season….the day on
which we say that Jesus finally ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand
of God.
We pray for the arrival of the Holy Spirit…which we will celebrate
on Pentecost next Sunday.
So where we are in our church story is also a liminal space.
Jesus’ earthly ministry is over…but we have not yet…in
theory…received the Holy Spirit.
At least that’s the story.
But in reality…that spirit is already with us….in us…and moving in
and out…and up and down in our lives.
We know that’s true when something like a natural disaster…or any
other major disruption happens to us.
When we’re plunged into a liminal space.
Because the spirit of God…is a spirit that doesn’t sit still.
The Holy Spirit of God is a motivator.
It pushes us to move outside of our selves…and rise up.
As the great theologian…and Presbyterian minister…Mr. Fred Rogers
told those who hung out in his PBS Neighborhood… these are times to look for
the helpers.
Because the spirit moves people to help…to support…to carry us when
we feel the weight of sadness and despair pressing us down.
That spirit is present in a guy who climbs through a wet messy pile
of moss-covered tree limbs to free a woman trapped in her home.
It’s those helpers…opening a home that is running on a generator to
give respite from the heat…a cold cup of water…and a place to plug in battery
packs…cell phone chargers…even running an extension cord to a neighbor so they
can have a fan blowing in their home.
It’s the loaning of cars to those who’ve lost their
transportation…the giving of clean clothes to those who can’t access their
closets.
The offers to help clean up debris…run to get water and ice…or
simply sit and hold the hand of someone who just needs to cry…and process the
grief.
In those times when we want to scream…”How long O Lord, how long?”
Look for the helpers.
Be ready to receive them.
For they are the ones whom God’s spirit has called upon to show
up…in answer to our prayers.
In the name of God…F/S/HS.
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