Faith Works 11-14-20

Faith Works 11-14-20

Jeff Gill

A year like any other (not kidding)

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"Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream."

I trust these words from one of last week's lectionary readings, used in many Christian churches, are familiar to you whether you were in worship online or in person or even just slept in. It's the prophet Amos, speaking to the people on behalf of God. It follows a longer prophetic tirade about how we think we know what the Almighty wants, but display a definite lack of understanding in how we live our lives about what really constitutes divine blessing and approval.

There's a heartbreaking and beautiful video clip that went around this past week on social media, of an elderly ballerina (I will not say former ballerina, and look for the clip to see what I mean) with Alzheimer's who hears "Swan Lake" played, and is transformed. In part, someday soon in whole, but in a brief earthly moment of transcendence and connection, she is united with her younger self, through the music.

It reminded me of a documentary from 2014, "Alive Inside: A Story of Music and Memory" which was directed and produced by Michael Rossato-Bennett, and I commend it to the attention of anyone who is old, expects to become older, or knows at however much of a distance any elderly people. And personally, the numbers I associate with elderly-ness get older all the time, but dementia is not interested in your birthdate.

When I see a room of seniors, many of whom do not respond verbally or even with a lifted head or open eyes, start to resonate and sing along with "Amazing Grace" or the words of the Lord's Prayer, it moves me. Worship is not just music therapy, but it participates in the same connective tissues of humanity.

For my entire time in parish ministry, I've always done some form of worship and outreach into care facilities. And in Indiana, West Virginia, and here in Ohio, most of that work is exactly the same - the beds are the same, the halls are the same, and with modest design differences the lounges or dining rooms or chapels are the same. As are many of the sensory inputs of such places, whether well managed or less so.

The speakers sing out overhead, the occasional visitor or staff member ghosts around behind the gathered group, and frankly in most places the staff is likely to act as if you aren't there occasionally, always chastened when they realize they've done it. They'll shout to each other standing right in the middle of your congregation, or walk right into the group on an errand and not see you, the "younger" and upright outsider. And I get it: it's because that's what they have to do seven days a week to keep the care and services going in the middle of people many of whom aren't well oriented to what's going on around them. But even after a quick embarrassed apology, it's unsettling to realize how quickly you become one of the residents. And could, in fact. 

I'm now focused on a much smaller audience, a select number of seniors special to me and mine, but the issues still remain. How to love and serve and speak in the middle of deafness and confusion and uncertainty. How to not become stoic and indifferent and even callous to the needs of the person while serving the outward external momentary situations.

That's in part what justice is. To live justly, love kindness, and to walk humbly with the people God has put in your path. Micah, like Amos, knew directly from God what justice was as prophets, and they struggled in their time, in their words, to communicate it to us so we can join them on that journey.

Justice, and righteousness, are our calling. I lean on the Hebrew Scriptures as my Old Testament, and find those words to be very near me (as Moses says in Deuteronomy, and Paul in Romans) as I seek the Gospel call in my present moment. How shall I live justice, and pour forth righteousness from my life? It begins with serving those who are weaker, where there is need, when the world is not interested.

And you know what? That was true in 2019. It was needed in 1985, and in 785 BC. There's much to distract us, lots going on, but the prophetic call, the Gospel mandate, continues.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's not as sure as he was a few months ago that this year is really all that unusual. Tell him what you think about 2020 as we wrap it up at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.