Have you ever been surprised by compassion?

I am back in the pulpit today at Charlottesville, and it is good to be back. Today's readings are 2 Kings 5:1-14 , 1 Corinthians 9:24-27, Psalm 30 and Mark 1:40-45.

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Have you ever been surprised by compassion?

Have you ever been surprised by a kind word from someone at the very moment you needed it the most? Maybe from someone whom you least expected it?

Or, have you been surprised by someone who opened a door, or a friend who squeezed your hand in the moment you needed it most?

Have you ever been surprised by your own compassion maybe with someone you have a very hard time with?

Sometimes compassion is simple, and the simplicity surprises us.

Take, for example, Naaman, who we meet in the Old Testament lesson today. Naaman is a soldier who is very sick and in need of compassion. The prophet Elisha tells him to go wash in the Jordan seven times.

But Naaman goes away angry, thinking Elisha is mocking him. Surely it must be more complicated than this.

Prophets are supposed waive their hands and do prophet-y things. The simple moment of compassion is not as he expects.

Thanks to a lowly servant, Naaman finally catches on. He washes and is healed. And he is very surprised, and humbled.

It was as simple – and as surprising – as Elisha said, but Naaman almost misses it by being too caught up the complexities.

Or take the nameless leper who is healed by Jesus. Things are not as he expects. Jesus heals the leper and tells him to go to the Temple to be washed, and not talk about what he has seen.

Of course, the healed man goes out and blabs to everyone, and soon large crowds descend upon Jesus.

These biblical stories, and others like it, are meant to push us off kilter so we can see God’s compassion that is so close to us we might otherwise miss it.
These stories are meant to surprise us.

Sometimes it takes a surprise so that we can see God more clearly and love more dearly.
The apostle Paul is driving at the same point in his letter today, but coming at it from a different angle. This idea of running the race is not about being the fastest or the first past the finish line.

Rather, Paul is talking about how we can run the race of life by being open to the holy, and being open all of the time to the compassion that surrounds us.

He implores us to practice looking for compassionate surprises. And keep practicing, practicing, practicing.

We live in a world undergoing tremendous change and complexity, and it can feel overwhelming. Compassion is not always easy to see in the noise and cruelty of the world.

This week in our community, we have the trial opened for George Huguely, accused of killing his girlfriend, Yeardley Love, when both were students at the University of Virginia. For many, the trial reopens wounds that have not healed. The killing shook the tight University community to the core.

Yet I am also mindful of how this terrible incident sparked many acts of compassion, and still does. Cruelty does not get the last word.

A few months after the brutal killing, Teresa Sullivan gave her first public speech in this pulpit as president of the University of Virginia.

She called upon all of us to build a more compassionate community because we are all connected.

We here have taken up that challenge in big ways and small. That is our mission and has always been our mission. Building a compassionate world is really what it means to build the Kingdom of God on earth.

This church is a refuge for those who are hurting and needing solace, and may that always be so.

But the Church is not a refuge from surprises or change. Indeed, the Church is often characterized as the “rock,” but it is not an inert lump of stone. The church is alive, it is an organism, and it is changing because we are changing.

I believe there is a holy spark of compassion here at St. Paul’s that is truly extraordinary. That spark will change us into the compassionate people we were created to be, and we in turn will change the world around us.

By practicing compassion we are running together the race that Paul encourages us to run. 

The Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu 

To practice compassion requires not worrying when something doesn’t work exactly right, trusting that Holy spark will carry us through.

And here’s the good news: We don’t have run this race of compassion alone. We can find strength together, as a community of faith. When we do, we will find that new growth and healing will come to us, day by day.

When we run this race of compassion together, we will spread healing and hope into the world beyond, and we have no greater mission in this life than that.

But we need to be ready for the unexpected. We need to listen for the holy from unexpected corners, from unexpected voices, in moments when we least expect it.

God’s Kingdom really can be that simple – and surprising.

The sacredness of friendship, the blessings of compassion

On Saturday I will be preaching a homily at a memorial service for a young man, Jeremy Pinkerton, who was killed in an car accident last weekend. The service will be held at a Baptist Church which has graciously opened its doors to accommodate the large number of people expected to come.

Jeremy did not go to my church, and I never knew him. I just met his parents on Wednesday when they came to ask me to conduct this service for their son. They did not know me, but they came to my office because they were brought by close friends who are members of St. Paul's. I am honored to be a part of this for them, and I am honored their friends brought them to me.

This tragic event has me reflecting once again on the importance of friendship. Not just importance, but the sacredness of friendship. True friends are there with us in the joyful moments and the times of great pain. They know how we feel without asking. They are there for us, not with unsolicited advice but with their presence, their laughter, their tears. Friends are truly the reflection of God's boundless love, no-strings-attached. True friendship has no strings attached.

We don't do anywhere near enough in the Church to bless and honor friendships.

In this morning's Daily Office reading, from the Book of Job, three friends hear of Job's terrible suffering. His children have been killed in an inexplicable accident, and he is has a physically painful disease. The three friends -- Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite -- do the greatest thing they can do for Job. They show up:

"When the saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him in the ground for seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great."

-- Job 2:12-13

No one spoke a word. No one needed to. The friends lived with Job in his pain, and that was the greatest gift of friendship imaginable. Yet it is so hard to do. Later in the Book of Job, the friends start offering all sorts of trite advice and become a burden to Job. But for now they sit with him and suffer with him. That kind of friendship, I believe, comes only as a gift from God.

I came across this quote yesterday from Henri J.M. Nouwen that I think captures this well, and I share it with you:

"Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it."

Maybe the best prayer we can say for our friends who are suffering is ask for the strength to set aside our need to control so that we can be there with our friends no matter how painful or awkward it becomes for us. And may each of us accept the blessings of our friends in our own times of joy and pain, for when we do we will be looking into the eyes of God.

A Collect for Fridays

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but
first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he
was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way
of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and
peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.