Web of Faith

It was August, 2004. Ray Johnston lay in a coma in Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas.1 Ray had always loved basketball. In 1999 he had lettered as a walk-on point guard at the University of Alabama. However, his college basketball career ended after that first season. He went on to graduate with a degree in marketing and landed a job with a mortgage company in Dallas. In Dallas he played a lot of pick-up and, through a friend, even managed to play a summer season with the Dallas Mavericks. On August 26, 2004 a collision with another player left him with a painfully swollen leg that landed him in the hospital. By the time medical personnel diagnosed him with acute promyelocytic leukemia, a rare form of cancer, Ray’s lungs were filled with fluid, his kidneys had failed, and he was in a coma. However, when doctors told Ray’s mother that his chance of survival was one in a million, she defiantly replied, “Then you’re looking at the one that’s gonna make it.”

Ray stayed in a coma for the next ten weeks. His mother stayed by his side. Friends sent out calls: “Pray for Ray,” and congregations in Dallas and Alabama responded. Other friends vowed to forgo shaving until Ray woke up. Finally, the prayers hit their mark: on the 70th day Ray woke up. Two weeks later, Ray left the hospital with no visible brain damage and a treatment plan for the leukemia. Once in remission, Ray went on to found the Ray Johnston band and began touring the country telling his story. Ray’s cancer recurred in 2009. Through the use of an experimental drug, he is once again in remission. At thirty-four, Ray has big plans for the band, but he’s also happy to just be “smiling and breathing.”2 Is Ray Johnston’s continued survival a “miracle?” Of course it is, it’s a miracle that medical science and the prayers of all those who love Ray Johnston have helped bring about.

And it’s a miracle that would not have surprised the community who first heard Luke’s gospel. We have returned to Luke, which will give us our gospel readings from now through the end of the liturgical year. Luke’s gospel is distinctive in its emphasis on Jesus’ humanity. As you hear the various readings, try to get a glimpse of the actual man teaching and ministering to those around him. Luke’s gospel also reminds us of the importance of an inclusive community of faith that excludes no one from God’s love.

Today we have heard the first of two stories of unexpected healing, stories that are actually meant to be heard together. (When you hear the story next week of the healing of the son of the widow of Nain, I’ll remind you of what you’ve heard today.) Following his first sermon in Nazareth, his ministry in Capernaum, and his “sermon on the plain,” Luke’s parallel to the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus has returned to Capernaum, where today’s story begins.

Perhaps you noticed something surprising about this story: no one in it is alone. Jesus is surrounded by his disciples, his friends, and the women, mentioned in Luke 8:2, who travelled with the Twelve and “provided for them out of their resources.” More important, the rest of the principal characters, including those we don’t see, are also part of a web of human relationships. The invisible ill slave is a valued member of the centurion’s household. We may shy away from confronting the ancient world’s institution of slavery, conveniently forgetting, of course, how similar the modern-day scourge of human trafficking is. Unquestionably, the slave has economic value. Even so, perhaps there is also enough of a human connection between this servant and his master for the centurion, a gentile, to dare to ask the famous rabbi to heal the slave.

The centurion himself is part of a social web, of the hated Romans who ruled over Israel. As a gentile, he has no obligations to the Jews around him, all of whom must submit to their Roman masters. However, the centurion surprisingly seems to also be embedded in a web of faith, as the Jewish leaders explain, when they rationalize their bringing his need to Jesus’ attention. Perhaps the centurion was a “God-fearer,” a gentile who was attracted to Judaism because of its monotheism but was prevented by the requirement of circumcision from converting. Clearly, as the leaders stress, he was a benefactor of the local Jewish community: he “loves our people,” and he even built a synagogue. The centurion is sensitive to the realities of relations between Jews and gentiles. Anticipating Jesus’ reluctance to interact directly with a gentile, he lets the delegation of religious leaders press his case. The centurion is also part of a web of “friends,” who convey to Jesus the centurion’s wish to avoid embarrassing Jesus by forcing him to decide whether or not to risk ritual pollution by entering the centurion’s house. Finally, as the friends’ report so eloquently conveys, the centurion is also embedded in the community of those who recognize Jesus’ authority. Comparing himself with those who are under him, the centurion implicitly recognizes himself as one of those who are under Jesus, and who ultimately must seek Jesus’ favor.

It’s a challenging story. Of course, the gospel always challenges us to ask whether we are under Jesus’ authority, and whether our faith has any impact on the rest of our lives. But this story of the invisible centurion challenges us in another way: it challenges our contemporary perception that faith is a solitary endeavor. Ever since the Reformation, Christians have, for better and for worse, believed in their own ability to understand Scripture, theology, and Christian practice, irrespective of the teachings of a community. Where disagreements occurred, people have simply gone their separate ways. Witness the proliferation of denominations! In our own culture of extreme individualism, we are convinced that faith is personal and private. We “shop” for a church, we hesitate to commit ourselves to a particular community, and we don’t hesitate to leave one faith community for another when the minister or some other aspect of the community does not please us. We shy away from offering each other or receiving from each other pastoral care or spiritual guidance. Perhaps we even hesitate to pray for each other – or to let others know that we are praying for them!

That is not the life that we are called to live as Jesus’ disciples. As Ray Johnston’s story and the centurion’s story remind us, we are – or should be – embedded in a web of faith. As baptized members of Christ’s Body, we too are – or should be – members of a community that supports all its member, a community whose members willingly offer and receive help from one another and offer pastoral and spiritual care to one another. We are – or should be – a community of faith that together reaches out to serve others – even those on the margins of society, even today’s equivalents of slaves, gentiles, prostitutes, or hated tax collectors, even those whom we might not consider “worthy” of God’s love.

How might we begin doing that? I’d like to propose three possibilities. The first is that we continue to pray for those who need our prayers, especially for those who are sick. Perhaps those who have requested our prayers might make sure the rest of us know why. For example, we are currently praying for the wife of our web master. He sends me periodic updates on her condition. Right now, she does not have a clear diagnosis. Secondly, I suggest that we become more intentional about offering pastoral care. We have several members of this parish whose physical limitations, temporary or permanent, prevent them from worshipping with us. We have talked about visiting shut-ins, possibly even those in nursing homes. We have licensed Eucharistic visitors. I can always train more. Can we form perhaps a committee, or a team, that will take responsibility for helping to coordinate pastoral care?

Third, our physical plant is a great gift to the community. As most of you know, “anonymous” groups meet here almost every day. Other groups also use our facilities. Some time back, we had talked about becoming a disaster relief center. The tragedy in Moore, Oklahoma reminds us yet again how much such a facility might be needed. Parishes have responded to disasters like the one in Moore through immediate pastoral care, longer-term rebuilding efforts, and the gifts of prayer and financial support. Recently, our diocese began a relationship with the Lutheran Disaster Response of Ohio. Mary Woodward is now the Disaster Coordinator not only for the Lutheran Church (through Lutheran Social Services of Central Ohio) but also for our diocese as well. Our bishop has expressed the hope that we have at least one person in every congregation trained by Woodward to serve as a volunteer at the time of disaster. Who among you might be willing to pursue this possibility with me? During last summer’s derecho, could our building have been used by those who had lost power? Might it be available in a coming disaster?

We are not isolated dots. We are part of a web of faith. A lived faith is one that is truly part of a community, a community that supports its members and that together reaches out to the rest of the world. With God’s help, and with the prayers of the faithful, St. Peter’s can be such a community.

1. Based on “Ray of Hope,” Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Lima OH: CSS, 2006), 108-10.
2. http://abcnews.go.com/Health/CancerPreventionAndTreatment/experimental-drug-maverick-shot/story?id=13668311#.UaecB5z4ItA (accessed May 30, 2013).