We've Never Had It So Good

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

July 1, 2018

Year B, Proper 8: The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27

Psalm 130

2 Corinthians 8:7-15

Mark 5:21-43

We’ve Never Had It So Good

            In 1952, the Democrat Adlai Stevenson ran for President using the slogan, “You Never Had It So Good.”

            He lost the election, so I guess not enough people agreed with that sentiment.

            “You never had it so good.”

            In some ways, though, we’ve never had it so good, right?

            These days unemployment is very low – good for workers though not so good for us as we try to find a new coordinator for the Triangle Park Community Center.

            And, as we’ve talked about before, we live in an age of miracles.

            Thanks to modern medicine, ailments that terrified us and would maybe have even done us in just a few decades ago are now not such a big deal.

            I think about cataracts.

            When I was a kid, I remember the grown ups whispering about these mysterious cataracts (I heard them as “Cadillacs” which made it even more confusing) as if they were one the worst things that could happen.

            And the truth is, back then cataracts meant eventual blindness, unless you were brave enough to undergo very delicate surgery and endure a long and difficult recovery.

            Now, though, as some of our own parishioners have seen with your own eyes, it’s become a routine, in and out of the office, procedure.

            My father had his second eye done a couple of weeks ago and now we’re getting used to his face without glasses – and getting used to the fact that now he really doesn’t miss a thing – we’ve got to watch those eye rolls!

            Medicine is now so sophisticated that I’m pretty sure doctors could easily take care of whatever ailed the two very ill people we heard about in today’s gospel: Jairus’ daughter lying near death, and the poor woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve long years.

            We’ve never had it so good.

            And of course, technology that was science fiction when I was a kid is now commonplace.

            Many of us carry around cellphones way more sophisticated and powerful than Captain Kirk’s communicator.

            We’ve never had it so good.

            But.

            But, there’s always a shadow side, right?

            The dramatic, life-saving, life-transforming improvements in healthcare carry a hefty price tag, costs that we’re still figuring out how to pay for as a society – or, at least, should be trying to figure out, anyway.

            And, the small computers that we carry around with us mean that we’re pretty much always connected, on call all the time, and at the mercy of a never-ending stream of news and information, much of it not so good, and some of it distressing and even downright terrifying.

            And, maybe worst of all, this constant stream of news means we don’t stay focused on any one thing for very long.

            Just this past Wednesday, I was wrapping my head around the stunning upset victory in a New York Democratic primary of a twenty-eight year-old woman over one of the most powerful members of Congress – I was just trying to learn her name (It’s Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, by the way), just trying to learn about her and her amazing story when the news came that Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy was stepping down.

            Boom!

            And then there was the massacre in the newsroom in Annapolis.

            This news and information overload is messing up our sense of time – things that happened just a couple of weeks ago seem like they happened months ago.

            Remember the North Korea summit? Feels like six months ago, at least, right?

            (It was actually not quite three weeks ago.)

            So, today I’d like to rewind just a couple of weeks to the sudden and heartbreaking and hard to understand suicides of two celebrities: the designer Kate Spade and the celebrity chef and TV host Anthony Bourdain.

            I knew who they were but I didn’t know much about them, but I was struck by just how stunned and upset so many people were by their deaths – and how their terrible exits got us thinking about and talking about despair and suicide - well, talking about that for a couple of days, at least, until we moved on to the next thing.

            The suicide of these two who seemed to have never had it so good, led to some reflection on the despair that seems to permeate our society and, tragically, has led to an increase in suicide in the United States, up an alarming 25% since 1999!

            It’s a complicated and intensely personal issue and I’m no mental health professional, but it seems like at least part of this epidemic is caused by the breakdown in community – we just don’t do things together like we used to – civic organizations are in decline – many churches are emptying out – and more and more of us are alone and we are despairing.

            Jesus lived in a time and place of despair, too.

            Back in the first century, the Jewish people chafed under the rule of an oppressive empire.

            Plus, they had the all the usual things to worry about – getting enough food to survive and the very real fear of illness and death.

            Jairus must have been in a panic about his daughter’s serious illness.

            And the hemorrhaging woman had endured so much suffering.

            Yet, despite what must have been very real despair, there they are in the community. There they are in the great crowds gathered around Jesus, asking for and receiving the great miracle of new life.

            The truth is, though, that Jesus didn’t physically heal all or even most of the many sick people around him. I’m sure there were other sick children who died and other hemorrhaging women who died of their illness.

            And, for that matter, both the daughter and the hemorrhaging woman eventually died.

            So, while the physical healing is obviously important, especially to these two people and those who loved them, it’s not the most important thing.

            The most important thing is the spiritual healing, the hope for new life, the signs of new life that people saw – and still see - in and through Jesus.

            And that spiritual healing nearly always – you know, maybe always – happens in community, just as it did that day when Jesus revived a much-loved daughter and stopped the bleeding of a long-suffering woman.

            That’s why the bishop carries a stick to keep the community together and that’s why I spend a lot of time to trying to get you to come to church, despite the heat, despite the tiredness, despite the despair – because the healing takes place in community.

            Like many of us, I get down about much of what’s happening in our country, especially when I spend too much time looking at Facebook or scrawling through Twitter.

            And, like all of us, I’ve got my own stuff to worry about, too.

            Sometimes, I can feel the tide of despair rising from my belly to my chest, up into my head, clouding my vision.

            You know that feeling?

            But, thanks be to God, so often when we’re together, I’m healed.

            A couple of weeks ago at the fundraiser dance which was so beautifully put together (and raised nearly $4000 for our church), I looked around at this beautiful diverse community smiling and laughing and dancing, and my vision cleared.

            We’ve never had it so good.

            And on Wednesday night, as I sat through a seemingly endless City Council meeting, I looked around at the other tired but persistent Jersey City Together members, sticking it out, advocating passionately and intelligently and, finally, persuasively, for affordable housing at Bayfront along Route 440, and my vision cleared.

            We’ve never had it so good.

            And then on Thursday evening, despite the threat of severe thunderstorms and sauna-like humidity and heat, a bunch of Jews, Christians, and Muslims and I’m sure people of other faiths and maybe no religious faith at all, gathered downtown praying and singing in solidarity with the parents and children separated at the border.

            My favorite moment was when a Muslim family read for us a passage from the Koran. As a man read in Arabic and then a woman gave the English translation, I noticed one of the adorable little Muslim girls who was standing bravely with her family. This girl was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Take Me to Grandma’s. I’m Over It.”

            I thought, you know what, kid, I’m over it too, and suddenly my vision cleared.

            We’ve never had it so good.

            Yes, for many of us times are tough and they may very well get worse before they get better.

            We may be tempted to despair.

            But my prayer is that, no matter what, we’ll stick together, because it’s here in community that we are healed.

            It’s here that we just might see that despite everything, we’ve never had it so good.

            Thanks be to God.

            Amen.