All Will be Well
Rev. Christina M. Neilson
September 21, 2008
All Will be Well
All Will be Well
All manner of things will be well.
Julian of Norwich, 14th century
Remember that scene from the exorcist where the possessed child’s head spins around and vomits green chunks everywhere? I kind of feel like that is symbolic of this week. Many of you spent hours and hours cleaning filthy mold off of all Cynthia Mondia’s prized processions. For those of you who don’t get the SWUULIST, or know what has been going on, a fire sprinkler in Cynthia’s apartment burst sending gallons and gallons of black mold all over her things, extending several floors below her. It’s amazing how much water can come out of a fire sprinkler. Much of her stuff was damaged, and all of it had to be moved. It was overwhelming to everyone- to Cynthia who didn’t know where to begin, to her manager who was paralyzed with inaction, to the church clean-up crew who volunteered to move her.
Three days after the water flooded the apartment, Cynthia was still living in the stench of the mold. The manager had done nothing to help her, other than vacuum some of the excess water from the carpet. The carpet had not even been cleaned, and was still saturated with water and mold. One small window and a small air conditioner were inadequate to remove the smell, or dry the apartment. To say that she was living in a health hazard was putting it mildly.
I hadn’t quite grasped the urgency of the situation myself until I saw it Monday morning. I was shocked and horrified that they hadn’t moved her out of there. She had been breathing in mold for three days. Management would not commit to paying for a motel, or taking any action. Their plan was to clean the apartment, something they refused to do until her stuff was moved. They blamed her for the delay “too much stuff”, then me, “What kind of Christian are you!” rather than just negotiate openly and honestly within their financial limitations. If you can’t afford a hotel, just say so. If it’s going to take two weeks, just tell me. The blame game was getting us nowhere- we needed to move forward. I was frustrated with the bureaucracy- filing forms for reimbursement may eventually replace some of her losses, but it could take months. I knew how Cynthia felt when she said she was tired of it all, of dealing with the management, and had no energy to get up off her knees.
I get annoyed with the blame game. Blaming the liberals for everything from terrorism to poverty. Blaming the republicans for the economy and the war when all representatives have a vote. Blaming the victim to ensure they remain helpless, and therefore, undemanding. The shooter at the UU Church in Knoxville this summer, blamed the church for destroying his marriage. His wife attended the church and was “corrupted” by liberal values. Did he not stop to consider that maybe he felt helpless because he had lost his job and his food stamps as well as his marriage, and that the church had nothing to do with that? But since then, and even before, gay bashings are on the rise in Cleveland, and I’ve had people confront us at the coffee shop and in my office about being a “gay” church and the cause of destroying the bible and all it’s dearly held values.
Politicians hide behind lies and apologize (lamely) for them later. They don’t care about destroying reputations, promoting misogyny and racism. What does it matter if the stock market crashes, the war drains our children’s future? What does it matter if our church community feels divided and fearful of disrespecting each other? All the pain can make you drop to your knees.
But then I hear this 14th century nun call to me and say,
All Will be Well
All Will be Well
All manner of things will be well.
And I said, Julian, do you not know, do you not know bureaucracy?
And Julian, do you not know, do you not know about hate.
And Julian, do you not know, do you not know about politics?
And Julian, do you not know, not know about fear.
And she said,
All Will be Well
All Will be Well
All manner of things will be well.
And I said, Julian, do you not know, do you not know about helplessness?
And Julian, do you not know, do you not know about blame.
I said Julian, do you not know, do you not know about gay bashing?
I said Julian, it’s too much, it brought me to my knees
And she said,
All Will be Well
All Will be Well
All manner of things will be well.
And she said, baby girl, do you not know, do you not know about covenant? And baby girl, do you not know, do you not know about friends.
And she said baby girl, do you not know, do you not know, about community?
She said baby girl do you not know, it’s only love that never ends.
And so:
All Will be Well
All Will be Well
All manner of things will be well.
Julian believed that suffering was not punishment sent from God so that we could be better people, more worthy of love, but that God loved and saved everyone. Beyond the reality of the hells we face in everyday life, there is a greater mystery and grace in a loving presence. This love that never ends is what saves us all. At some point, we have to be willing to say no to hatred and fear, and even to our helplessness, and pull ourselves off the floor and say, “I am a person of worth and dignity, and deserve to be treated well.
And so I got up off my knees, and sent an email saying, “I NEED YOUR HELP!” in bold type. And in true SWUU fashion, people showed up with boxes, tape, cleaning supplies, laundry bags, and lots and lots of garbage bags. We took a deep breath, mapped out a simple plan of garbage here, clean stuff over here, and stuff to be cleaned over there. We just kept on bagging and boxing and cleaning. Despite the health hazard to all who arrived, day after day we showed up in mass, and by the end of the week, we had her moved into her new clean apartment.
Many of you who couldn’t physically help, pledged money toward replacing things. And there’s still plenty to do if you missed the first week of the party. Cynthia’s going to be sorting for a long time.
And as you showed up, and kept on showing up, and boxing and washing and sorting, my faith in humanity was reaffirmed like no other. I began to realize that it doesn’t matter if the manager doesn’t like us or our religion, just think of all the people who saw us help Cynthia. People who shared their own stories of oppression with us, and had a light of hope that they weren’t forgotten as they had feared. That maybe someone noticed the conditions they lived in, the effect that tax cuts for the wealthy had on the poor. Perhaps someone noticed that we are positioned to change that- that if ever our voice and our vote mattered it is now!
Helplessness is the feeling beneath all the fear and hate. It is the real issue that needs attention. How can we find our personal and collective power when we feel helpless? When we feel empowered, we have no need to blame or escalate fear and hatred.
How can we do that? We can put out a distress call. People can’t help unless they know what it needed. Some can help. Some can’t. Sending it out to a broader community invites some success. But we need to know the urgency and depth of the problem. We have to begin to chip away at all that feels overwhelming until the root is exposed, and the true cause can be addressed. If the Knoxville shooter had come to my office to talk, rather than a Sunday service loaded with children to kill, I would have listened to his problems, helped him get food, and try to help him find a job. I would have counseled him and his ex-wife, even though it may not bring them back together. I could have helped them to see a new reality, rather than an explosive and destructive helplessness.
We can encourage open and honest communication, including expressing the limits of what we can and can’t do. I wasn’t asking for Cynthia to be moved to the Hilton, I asking, okay, demanding, that she be moved from her apartment to a place that is clean and functional. And because they wouldn’t do it, we did.
Honest and open communication requires respect for differences of opinion. We aren’t always going to agree on politics, or even liberal issues, but we come here in a covenant of right relations, which includes the words and speech we use.
When I was confronted in my office by a bible misquoting homophobe, a week after the shootings, I was scared. I was alone in the office. And angry. There was the response that I wanted to do, you know, what I really wanted to say, then there is the actual response to him, and then the response I thought of later, that I wish I had said.
What I wanted to say was, “You think gay people are bad, well take this”- and make out right in front of him, and load my car with even more queer stickers. You know, be right in his face, really upset him. But I restrained myself, and what I actually said was just an intellectual response about what the bible says and doesn’t say about homosexuality. That the bible talks about homosexual rape, not relationships, that God loves us all, even fags, and that the war between heaven and hell is here on earth, not in an apocalypse.
But later after the fear and anger were gone, I wished I had embraced him with a pastoral response, not just intellectual. But during that time I was afraid, so I slipped into that mode. I wish I had asked him why he was concerned about gay people, and why that’s even an issue for him. Because I suspect that underneath his bravado, lies a concern that God doesn’t really love him, and that he does not accept his own worth and dignity. Underneath it all, people are concerned with their own failings, not others.
I know I’ve put a lot of thoughts in your head- politics, gay bashing, oppression, but the common thread is this: helplessness, whatever the source, can only be overcome by community. By falling to our knees and saying, “God, I need you! Help! We may not always like the ways that we need to be accountable for our part in our own oppression, but I believe love is the spirit of this church, and that is what enables us to do the things we think we cannot do. I am so grateful and thankful for all that people have done to help Cynthia, and I know that she shares this sentiment.
That’s why it’s important when we gather on Sunday morning, to create a sanctuary. A place that’s safe for all who feel unloved, for all who have come to give church one more chance, a place of comfort and security, even if only for an hour. Perhaps we can agree that here we offer our respect for differences, here we do not blame, create fear or spread hate. Here we honor beloved community, without calling it censorship. Here we preach love, not hate. Here we preach acceptance, not fear. May this house be a sanctuary of love. May all manner of things be well.