Reflections on a pandemic and an Election
/Sermon Proper 27 A All Saints 11-8-20
Wisdom of Solomon 6: 17 – 20 Psalm 70 1 Thessalonians 4: 13 – 18 Matthew 25: 1 - 13
Reflections on a Pandemic and an Election
This sermon was written before lunch on the day of our long-awaited election with no knowledge of any outcome. Kent and I were up before 5 am on Tuesday morning to get ready for our respective polling duties. I was assigned as a Poll Chaplain to polling place in Savannah – a lovely small church in an inner-city neighborhood. All was quiet on my watch. I promised myself that I would change nothing in this sermon between the writing and the preaching.
I have never actually sat in a polling place to watch people coming in with my vote already safely cast. Young and old, various colors, skinny and chubby – and that was just the poll workers! We coastal dwellers are a varied lot! With everyone masked, forced to stay 6 feet apart, there was not much conversation among the voters. Caps pulled down to shade the eyes and masks pulled up to cover the nose do not leave much face visible for chit-chat.
There were so many people I wanted to talk with. The very busy, very efficient Poll Manager who set a high bar for attention to every voter. The elderly lady – quite fragile, all wrapped up in coat and scarves and cap with her cane. I wondered how many times she has voted and what it means to her. The skinny kid lost in his jacket and jeans with the cool hair style and cap down to his eyebrows. Was this his first election? The stocky working man in his uniform moving quickly and purposefully, checking his watch as he left. How did he prepare for this election? What helped him make the decisions that he did? And, of course, I did want to say to everyone yes, I do know Jason Buelterman! Yes, you should vote for him! Get a little Island Breeze in here!
An interesting report passed over my screen during the election turmoil. An assistant professor of political science at the University of Iowa has reviewed over fourteen hundred hours of C-SPAN video of congressional sessions, and he has revealed a telling assessment. Between 1997 and 2012, the movement of congress people between the two sides of the aisle has virtually ceased. Virtually ceased. The professor also tracked the outcome of voting on bills during this same period. As the intermingling has died, more and more legislation passes or fails on party line votes. When those we elect to represent us stop talking to each other, they succumb to group think more and more often, as if their own cohorts have a lock on all the good, useful or practical ideas.
My fear is that this pattern has become the norm in our society. We only talk or socialize with those who are like ourselves. As a priest I am aware that I associate almost exclusively with other Christians. Living on Tybee I associate mostly with older white adults. We no longer listen together to Huntley Brinkley or Walter Cronkite and then talk about the same information. Our news sources range from Rush Limbaugh to Rachel Maddow, with lots of strange and iffy sources in between. We think we know more than we do because we have facile 30-second sound bites, or because too much opinion and interpretation are presented as fact. We accept pennies and nickels of information and forget that each coin has two sides.
Sitting here this morning and in other houses of worship, roughly fifty per cent of us are happy and relieved while the other fifty per cent are disappointed and wary. We have forgotten that God’s Holy Spirit has two wings – a right and a left. Without two wings no dove flies. Without two oars, no canoe moves in a straight line. Without two eyes, we have trouble assessing distance or hitting baseballs.
If there were only conservatives, truly little would change. If there were only liberals, too much would change too quickly. We need to be able to turn left and turn right to get to virtually any destination. But even that does not work without reverse and straight ahead.
Whatever else we know today that we did not know when we awoke on Tuesday morning, we know that God is in God’s heaven and we are beloved children of God. We know that God neither sleeps nor tires of our prayers. We know that God does not desert us in any situation, good or bad, interesting or dismal. We are the very stuff of God. We as Christians stand on the very Rock, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and the Redemption we obtain through the Holy Spirit of the Living God.
We are to be the peacemakers. We are to be the listeners. We are to be the healers. We are to seek out those with needs and work to bring mercy and justice to fruition here on this earth. If we snub or ignore or hate each other here and now, why will we be overjoyed to see each other in heaven? If I have thought carefully and prayerfully about my beliefs and my choices, why am I afraid to tell you what these are? Even more important, why am I afraid to hear – to even hear – what you believe and choose?
This dreadful pandemic does not seem to be letting up any time soon. We may be meeting outside in masks with no coffee hour for many more months. We may not meet friends for lunch or host a dinner party for another season or two. If we “other” those who are not like us even as we are separated by illness, how will we rebuild our fellowship once we can share a table? Whatever my level of education, whatever experiences I have had, I will never know everything. Most days I feel as if I do not know enough about anything!
I think often of Will Rogers’s statement: I never met a man from whom I could not learn something. What you have to teach me may give me a glimpse of God, of God’s love, of God’s grace and glory that I would never see on my own.
Jesus told the woman at the well that if she would drink the living water that Jesus freely offers, she would never thirst again. If we drink deeply and listen carefully and speak softly, the healing of our land may begin with us. If not with us, then who will bring the blessing of living water? Amen.
