LAKE JAMES

NORTH CAROLINA

Easter VII + May 20,2007 + St. Paul’s Church, Lake James

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The reading from the Acts of the Apostles reminds me of how frustrating things can be when we are unexpectedly blocked from doing what we want to do, or, even more, when we are kept from doing what we believe we are supposed to do. I think of a time some years ago, it was as we say down here, “up North.” I was talking with a priest who had just learned that the Commission on Ministry of that diocese had rejected the application of one of his parishioners who had hoped to study for the priesthood. The priest believed the young man truly had a Vocation to the priesthood, as did the Vestry of the parish. So did a committee who had spent a year with that parishioner in a prayerful discernment process, only to have it all derailed by a diocesan committee of people who, the priest believed, hardly knew or even tried to know his parishioner. Both the young man, and the parish to which he belonged, tended to be quite conservative while the prevailing stance in the diocese was anything but. The decision left the priest, his parishioner, and the parish frustrated. There was no recourse open to them, no way to appeal the rejection.

Sometimes, the shoe can be on the other foot. For some 30 years, one of my tasks was to do the psychological/vocational assessment of aspirants for ordination and/or membership in Religious Orders for both Episcopalian and Roman Catholic jurisdictions. Those evaluations were done carefully, usually taking at least six months to complete because so much was at stake for all involved. Inevitably, there were times when I had the painful duty of recommending that some people not proceed to ordination or religious vows, a finding I never made easily or happily. However, despite all the time involved and careful documentation of the reasons for my conclusions, there were times when they were overruled or simply rejected by a Bishop or Religious Superior, leaving me frustrated.

In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, “frustration” is one of the two strong responses of St. Paul and his companions to an unexpected situation. They were going about their business spreading the word that the Messiah, Jesus, had come and what people should do about that. A hard task in itself! But as they went toward the town’s place of prayer, they were met by a strange woman who took it upon herself to follow them and shouting at the top of her lungs! Can’t you just imagine that scene? I’m sure she attracted a lot of attention, and, maybe, at first, that might have been a “plus” for the disciples because what she yelled formed something of a “commercial.” As St. Luke records it, what she shouted was “these men are servants of the most high God – they proclaim the way of salvation!” Still, it didn’t take St. Paul long to realize that, as positive as her words were concerning the disciples, the overall effect would be negative. Luke notes that Paul was upset – I’d call it frustrated – because, while he and his companions were trying to carry out their mission quietly, a stranger had essentially appointed herself to be their advertising manager and publicist! Understand that she was not only a curiosity attracting attention to the disciples, she was also making a lot of money for her owners by her fortune telling and bizarre behavior. Paul was frustrated by her interference, but also, he was exasperated by what was a callous exploitation of an obviously deranged slave woman.

Let me digress for a moment to share with you a humorous explanation a bishop once told me about the difference between frustration and exasperation. A psychology professor, wanting to make that distinction clear to his students, had a speaker telephone brought into his classroom. At random, he chose a phone number and called it. What a man answered, the professor asked “Is Morris there?” The answer was “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” The professor apologized and hung up. He waited ten seconds and called the same number again, asking “Is Morris there?” The response was “Look, you just called this number and I told you there’s nobody here by that name!” The professor apologized, hung up, and waited ten more seconds before calling the same number for the third time, asking “Is Morris there?” This time, the answer was an angry “How can I get it through your thick head there’s no Morris here!” and the phone was slammed down with a great bang! The professor turned to the class and said “that’s frustration! Now, for exasperation…” he called the same phone number once more and, when the man at the other end answered, the professor said “Hello, this is Morris. Have there been any messages for me?”

It was beyond frustration – it was true exasperation which impelled Paul to turn to the shouting slave woman and command the evil spirits to leave her. At that very instant, two things happened: the woman was healed and, one assumes, enabled to begin to live a more normal life, but also, her owners lost a valuable source of income. The upshot was that Paul and his companions were beaten and thrown into jail! What do you think Paul and the other disciples felt at that moment? They may well have been quite willing to suffer for Christ, but, being human (very human), there may also have been anger. After all, they were the good guys, they had done what was both merciful and right, while the bad guys not only got off free, but were able to have them beaten and jailed! Have you ever tried to do something good, something unselfish, something in keeping with God’s will, only to wind up being blamed or even condemned for doing the right thing instead of ignoring the pain of someone else? At moments like those, one is apt to wonder where is the loving God, or even just a fair-minded God! Or, to carry it to its extreme, those haunting words of Jesus as he hung on the Cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

A not uncommon experience is to find that, out of pain, out of frustration, even out of exasperation, can come unexpected good. Further on in the reading in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, we heard how the jailer and his family wound up with a new understanding of and relationship with Jesus – all because Paul and his companions had been put in his jail. I know that in my experience, and I rather imagine in yours, being able to help someone turned out to be possible because of what, in my life, I had considered to be a failure or defeat. That’s certainly the basis for the wonderful help offered to people suffering from alcoholism or other addictions through 12 Step Programs where the helpers are people who themselves have suffered from the same realities and so can give a kind of help which usually can not be provided as effectively by non-alcoholics or well-meaning friends.

Many years ago, Father Whitney Hale, then Rector of The Church of the Advent in Boston, taught me a profound truth, which is that when we admire people, the traits we particular admire in them are most often ones which were gained through suffering rather than ones which just came easily to them. I am not suggesting we should become masochists who seek out pain or failure in the hope of somehow being helpful to others, but I am suggesting that when we find ourselves in situations which are frustrating, exasperating, painful, we may also find an unexpected closeness to God and a new sensitivity to others in their suffering, enabling us to help in ways we might otherwise not ever imagine.

Today is a strange day, a day suspended between the commemoration of the Ascension of Our Lord last Thursday, and the coming of the Holy Spirit which we will celebrate next Sunday at Pentecost. It is a day which is “betwixt and between.” It is a day for pondering how and where we meet our God. For the disciples, Jesus had finished his earthly ministry and would no more be found in their homes or usual meeting places. The post-Resurrection appearances were also over. He was no longer to be met on the Road to Emmaus or in the garden. Instead, He would be encountered by them – as He is by us – in the Breaking of the Bread and in interaction with other people. The wonderful Litany we have used in Advent includes the perceptive thought that we humans are especially apt to find God’s presence in and through periods of chaos and tumult, in our conflicts and in our times of pain.

Sisters and Brothers in Christ, think of this: it can be in such times, perhaps particularly in times of frustration, exasperation, anger, pain, even despair, that God gives us the opportunity to help others whose need, whose pain, is even greater than ours, but whose need we would not know or understand if it were not for our own. So when we pray the words we heard in the reading from the Revelation to St. John the Divine, “Come, Lord Jesus!” may we realize that the answer to that prayer may not be free of cost, and yet, may we pray those words anyway, relying on the grace, the strength which God the Holy Spirit not only brought at that first Pentecost, but can and will make available to us, if we are willing. If we are willing. The question is, are we?

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The Reverend Alfred T. K. Zadig, Sr.

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