At Father Bob's suggestion, I'm posting the sermon I preached last Sunday.
Pilgrims, thank you all for one of the holiest experiences of my life!
--Pastor Elizabeth
Sermon, Old Donation Episcopal Church, 7/4/2010 (Elizabeth Felicetti)
In today’s Old Testament reading, we encounter Naaman, an army commander favored by the king; a mighty warrior afflicted by leprosy. A young slave tells Naaman’s wife that God could heal Naaman through the prophet Elisha. We have wisdom here from an unexpected source: a slave. Naaman listens to the slave, and through the king, seeks healing from Elisha. Elisha gives him a simple task: to wash in the Jordan seven times.
Naaman is disappointed by Elisha’s message—it seems too easy. He’s a very important man with a very serious disease, and expects a more complicated cure, something dramatic that would be appropriate for such a mighty guy. But he again finds deep wisdom from an unexpected source: his servant, who says, “if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘wash and be clean’?”
Naaman listens to the servant, and is healed.
Spiritual wisdom doesn’t always come from the people we might expect. We might expect it, for example, from someone older, from someone ordained—not necessarily someone without power. A slave. A servant. Or, a teenager.
Two weeks ago you all sent me off with 18 others—fifteen teens and three other adults—on a pilgrimage to Ireland. As promised, we immersed ourselves in Celtic Christianity and emerged changed. While studying today’s readings with the pilgrimage in mind, I was especially drawn to the two wise servants, who make me think of our wise young people. On pilgrimage, they consistently came up with great and deep wisdom, blessing all of us.
On the fourth day of our pilgrimage, we went to Croagh Patrick, the mountain where Patrick fasted and prayed for 40 days. It was a gray and rainy morning. On the trek up the mountain, which was covered with slick rock and loose gravel, a few pilgrims were standing in front of a sign, clearly trying to obstruct what the sign said. After we convinced them to step aside, we saw to our dismay that the sign read, “Do not attempt to climb the mountain in rain or fog.” It was raining and foggy that morning.
I talked to a couple of people who were coming down the mountain. They encouraged me to take the group as far as the gate, but not to go farther, as the terrain became increasingly slippery. I knew a few of the kids really wanted to make it all the way to the top, and I was torn. But when we reached the gate, as I explained to the pilgrims, I knew that there was no way I could justify to their parents ignoring a sign that warned of rainy and foggy conditions, especially on a day when one of the pilgrims wasn’t with us because she was in the hospital getting stitches. So, we turned back at the gate.
I checked in with various kids on the way back down: how did they feel about the decision?
Matt Vecerkauskas was the wise servant that morning. He said, “I’m disappointed. I really wanted to climb Croagh Patrick. But then, on the way down, I realized that I had been so focused on getting to the top that I didn’t notice the streams with little waterfalls that were at the side of our trail. I was missing out on part of the journey, on the beauty of God’s creation. So now I’m glad we didn’t go, because I took so many pictures and so appreciated these beautiful streams.”
Those were wise words, weren’t they? I had been sad about turning back, especially as the sun came out not long after we reached the foot of the mountain, but was so grateful for Matt’s profound insight into pilgrimage. Because a pilgrimage is not about the destination—rather, the journey, drawing closer to God as a community.
The following day, I was again blown away by the wisdom of one of our pilgrims: this time, Kathryn Cintron. We were at Clonmacnoise, an ancient monastic site with several famous high crosses. As Kathryn and I were looking at one of the crosses, she suddenly said to me with deep authority, “Touch it,” as she held out her hand to the cross. I did. She then went on, “Now that you’ve touched it, you’ll always be connected to this cross.” She closed her eyes. “Feel it. Think about the people who created this cross and why.”
I was staggered by Kathryn’s insight, and wondered who was supposed to be leading this retreat. Sure, the kids were giving presentations each day, but until that moment, I had still felt that as the priest, I was the leader. But I experienced a shift at that moment, realizing that we truly were on pilgrimage as soul friends, tending to each other—not just me leading others. I touched the cross and wondered whose hands had created it, how the bible had touched them, how Christ had worked in their lives. And I will always feel connected, as Kathryn said I would. I know I will also always feel connected to her.
We had better luck with the airlines than previous pilgrimages, but our final flight was an hour and a half late, which meant we would be unable to make our connection in Newark—and so, we had to take a connecting flight some seven hours later than planned. This also meant we would have ended up traveling for over 20 hours instead of about 12. While I was glad that our group of 19 wouldn’t be split up among different flights, I was less than thrilled about so many hours in Newark, and knew that the other pilgrims felt the same way. But, the long time in Newark gave us time for a final reflection. It was hard to hear each other, with announcements about other flights constantly blaring, and rows of seats facing each other aren’t quite as good as comfortable circles—but nevertheless, we were able to engage in some excellent reflection.
Many people kept returning the conversation to one special day, a week ago Saturday, when we went to Kildare and spent time at two of St. Brigid’s holy wells. I had been somewhat nervous about that day, as our driver Maggie had said, “I have no idea what you are going to do in Kildare. There’s just not much there.”
We met Mary and Phil, two nuns, who welcomed us into their home, took us to the visitors’ center, and then to Brigid’s Cathedral. We were awed by the Cathedral, and excited by its round tower, one of only two round towers in Ireland that one is able to climb. We negotiated a group rate and most of us climbed to the top of the tower and enjoyed the view.
We had Eucharist at Brigid’s wayside well, then said good-bye to Mary and Phil and continued to the other well. Once again, it had been raining. We considered eating lunch on the bus, but then Dan said, “Let’s just risk rain and check out the other well.” We risked soggy sandwiches and went on.
We were rewarded with sunshine as we made our way to the second well, and I was surprised by how beautiful it was. The black and white photo I had seen didn’t do it justice. Clearly, this was a holy place—so holy that two other pilgrims not from our group were already there, looking at us a little warily as fifteen teens and four adults descended on this place and started to pass out sandwiches, I spontaneously decided that we should eat in silence so that we would not disturb these other two pilgrims.
A few eyes were rolled, but this turned out to be one of the holiest times of the entire pilgrimage. We did eat in silence, and journaled, and prayed. Many of us washed our faces in the well, used its holy water to make the sign of the cross. Some became overwhelmed by emotion, and I watched us minister to each other. Again, it became clear that I was not leading a pilgrimage, but was just one on a journey, one of nineteen soul friends.
When we were back in the airport, reflecting on our time together, Heather Lustig said of that day, “I learned that my life is so busy, and that I need to build time into it, maybe 20 or 30 minutes a day, that I can just spend in silence like we did that day, and reflect.”
Again, simple but deep wisdom, from unexpected sources, like Naaman’s servant. Heather came to that insight on her own, clearly led by the Holy Spirit.
Naaman was able to be healed by God through Elisha, which we expect, given the greatness attributed to the prophet Elisha by our Scriptures. But God’s healing and wisdom was further spread through two servants, which might not expect; in fact, we might even overlook such humble people.
Wisdom is not limited to those who have been around a long time, or who have had special schooling—the Holy Spirit is all around us, making itself known to all kinds of interpreters. Keep your eyes and ears open, so that every day can be a pilgrimage.
