Rev. Catherine Garlid
September 2, 2007
Job 14: 1–15
Luke 2: 25-32
"Health According to Simeon"

It has been a pleasure to be part of the summer substitution series that has given David some time away. And I am grateful to Rosemary and Ron and others who have helped me with both the beach services and the meetinghouse services. I have also enjoyed hearing other preachers. As a hospital chaplain I was particularly intrigued by Rev. Daniel England’s excellent sermon on August 5 entitled "Do you want to be made well?" He preached from the text in the gospel of John that tells the story of a man who had been lying beside the pool in Bethesda for 38 years with an unnamed infirmity. This man had all kinds of excuses for why he could not be healed – the water in the pool wasn’t quite right, or when it was right, there was no one available to carry him to the pool. Rev. England set it up perfectly and he repeated over and over for us to consider: "It’s not about the pool. It’s not about the pool." In other words, it’s about whether or not the man wanted to be made well. It is about whether or not he wanted to be healed. Looking closely at the text you realize that Jesus didn’t even wait for an answer. He simply went on after hearing the man’s hemming and hawing to say, "Rise, take up your pallet and walk." In other words, "Get a life!"

Well, that got me thinking and I would like to share some of my musings with you. Do you suppose it really signaled that the man was well that he could take up his pallet and walk? Is that all there is to health – being able to stand up and walk? Is it just about the body? Those of us who are able bodied might fool ourselves that it is. But sooner or later illness and infirmity affect us all. In our first reading this morning, we heard Job describing very well the eventual fate of our bodily existence "Man who is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble…There is hope for a tree, he says: if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its tender roots will not cease…But man dies and is laid away; indeed he breathes his last and where is he?" On some level, though our faith helps provide us with answers, we all ask this question in some quiet moments, don’t we?

For the most part, it seems that our health care system does all that it can to protect us from the fact of our mortality. Let me tell you a story that illustrates how pervasive this is. Recently I spoke with the staff person at Greenwich Hospital who sponsors health fairs in the community. Health fairs promote health. It makes sense. They are about wellness – blood pressure screenings, flu shots, good cardiac diets, prevention of cancer, etc. They are about living long and well and people like to come to them. I asked her, do you suppose that we could include a section with educational information about advance directives and living wills? You know, information to help people think about the choices they want to make for their care at the end of life? She laughed a nervous laugh and asked, "How can I promote good eating and cardiac health at one end of the table and tell them to get ready to die at the other end of the table?" And, unfortunately, I could see her point. As Woody Allen says, "I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens." I can’t tell you how hard it is to attract people to programs telling them about Hospice services when they are not sick or don’t have a loved one who is sick. It is not a fun outing.

So that leads me to another question. Is death the opposite of good health? Is death the ultimate illness or infirmity. Is death the enemy? Clearly our Christian faith teaches that it is not. "O death where is your sting?," asks Paul. "O grave where is your victory?" A Christian definition of health must go beyond being upright and walking. It goes beyond not being dead or sick unto death. It goes beyond the birthday card I received last week that said "Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that those who have the most (birthdays, that is) live the longest." There is more to health than longevity.

When I was a little girl, my mother sang a song and said a prayer with me every night when she was putting me to bed. The first prayer I learned was an adapted version of the familiar 18th century prayer that so many children are taught:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Feeling that this familiar version was a bit anxiety provoking for a child with its mention of dying in the middle of the night, my mother used these words instead:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Thy love stay with me through the night
And wake me with the morning light.

With the availability of antibiotics and other miracles of modern medicine she was probably right to change the words. They could indeed be unnecessarily frightening, but theologically the original words are important. God is the keeper of the human soul in life and in death and truly none of us ever knows when we will die. Our preparation for that event is closely related to a Christian understanding of health. Health is relational. It includes a relationship.

Our reading from Luke this morning speaks of this sort of a relationship, in this case the relationship between the old man Simeon, a devout Jew living in Jerusalem, and God. Simeon had been promised by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah. In the most tender of passages he takes the 8 day old baby Jesus in his arms and thanked God, saying, "Now, Lord I can die in peace according to your promise, for my eyes have seen your salvation which you have prepared before all people." The Hebrew word "to save" can also be translated to open. Salvation for Simeon is like the opening of the heart that we feel in the holding of an infant. The experience is, ironically, completely disarming. Simeon knows – now I can die in peace. My eyes have seen your salvation. My heart has been opened. The Greek translation of this word "to save" is the same as the word "to heal." To be saved is to be healed. Salvation equals health. The opening of the heart equals health.

These words of Simeon are known in the daily Christian office, or prayer book, as the nunc dimittis, or literally, "you may now leave." Everyday these words are said or sung at the close of the day usually in tandem with the Magnificat, Mary’s words, "My soul magnifies the Lord." Christians all over the world at day’s end pray that they be ready to depart in peace. Each day is preparation. What a lovely thing. Each evening this prayer invites Christians to the opening of our hearts.

It is interesting that in taking a closer look at the story of the man by the pool to discover that that Jesus did not ask him, "Do you want to be well?" Rather, he asked, "Do you want to be made well." That suggests a relationship, doesn’t it? Not just with the magic of the healing waters, but with Jesus and he knew it. He went on to tell others that it was that man Jesus who had made him well. On some level he had to accept being healed to be made well. This reminds me of the 12 steps of AA – only by surrendering to a relationship with a higher power can one overcome an addiction.

So where does this leave people who are nervous about a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ" and all the associations and baggage and politics and religious rivalries attached to those words? Does it have to be Jesus? I don’t believe so. Let me illustrate with another story from the hospital and my experience leading spirituality groups on the addiction recovery unit.

It is common for people in recovery to stumble over these words in the third step: "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." After all, isn’t it up to me to straighten out my life? Not long after I started leading these groups many years ago, I attended a conference for clergy on the 12 steps. I learned how crucial it is for recovery to have a higher power, and, that it doesn’t matter who or what that higher power is. At that time, recently out of seminary, I had a lot of trouble with that. What I have learned over the years, however, is that it is not about the what or the who, it is about the dynamics of the relationship or the opening to the relationship. It is about humbling oneself in relationship. If it is a newborn baby that doesn’t happen to be Jesus that opens your heart, just rejoice in the opening of your heart. These lines say it all:

I sought my soul but my soul I could not see.
I sought my God but my God eluded me.
I sought my brother--and I found all three.

People are healed by relationships – relationships like those Rev. England referred to in his sermon last week, relationship that involve both trust and risk. About a year ago at Greenwich Hospital we instituted Spirituality in Medicine Rounds for the medical interns – what they refer to as S&M Rounds. We talk about who the patient is that has the illness rather than what the illness is that has the patient. It has been said that the most important tool that a physician has is the chair. The relationship, and time for the relationship, is a crucial part of the healing. Do you want to be made well? And will you participate in that relationship?

Health is not the opposite of death. Death is a part of life. Hopefully not, God forbid, a premature or accidental death. It is also part of being healthy to cherish life, to live fully and to celebrate being alive, to give thanks to God for our very being. But as Christians, and I dare say as Americans, reckoning with our mortality needs to be part of the dynamic process that we call health and this happens within the safety of a trusting relationship. Consider what it might mean to live our lives each day seeking and preparing for the deep peace that Simeon found in holding the Messiah. "Now Lord, let thy servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation."

Amen