I’ll give you an example – when the transplant surgeon informed me of the four year wait for a kidney, I simply told him, and my partner, not to worry because there was going to be a miracle. And there was a miracle; but miracles aren’t the topic today.
My point is that even now, when I talk about the transplant, I weave a moving narrative of transformation and gratitude, healing and love. Every word of this glorious story of generosity and new life is true. But it’s only part of the picture. Today I’m going to tell you a true story of a different flavor, one that I’ve never told before.
In the late spring of 1994, a few weeks before I started dialysis, I went to San Diego to stay with my parents. I was having a hard time taking care of myself; my partner was finishing up her first year teaching at the Cathedral School for Boys and wasn’t able to help.
I asked my parents to take me to
La Jolla Cove – my favorite place to snorkel and scuba dive when I was growing
up. I remember every detail. Parking was easy because it was the middle of a
school day. It was hot and the sky and water were crystal clear. We sat on a
bench on a swath of green manicured grass looking out at the ocean, with the
Cove a short distance to the right; an unusually buff senior citizen with a
deep tan jogged on the path in front of us. Everything was as pleasant as it could
be given the circumstances, until I became thirsty.
The build-up of ammonia in my
bloodstream caused a horrible metallic taste and my mouth was often dry. The
slightest physical activity, in this case walking from the car to the bench,
exhausted me. The hot sun and by body’s inability to regulate temperature
pushed me over the edge. I told my
parents, We have to go; I need water.
I struggled on the walk back to
the car. Dad was going to take me home.
The thought of waiting 20 minutes before I could drink sent me into a
panic. Hyper-salty tears began to roll down my face. This was the first time my
illness made me cry.
My mouth was so dry I could barely
say the words, I need water now. Please get me water now. At this point,
my vision became blurry around the edges and I thought, If I don’t have water now, I’m going to die.
Realizing I was in crisis
my dad drove to a deli in La Jolla, and my mom brought me some water. After that, I was so terrified of being thirsty, that I was never without
water again. In fact, until 3 years ago, I always carried a case of bottled
water from Costco in my trunk. Now I use aluminum Sigg bottles.
On this last Sunday of Lent, I
want you to remember that this season isn’t simply about acknowledging personal
sin, asking for forgiveness and living obediently. The season of Lent is much
more holistic. We are presented with the opportunity to recall the hardships of
the world, the experiences of our ancestors in Egypt – promises made and
covenants broken, the darkness of Golgotha and the miseries we’ve endured that
we can’t bear to remember. I’m not suggesting we obsess on the traumatic events
in our lives. That would be unhealthy. However, equally unhealthy and perhaps
more dangerous, is denying the darkness, and forgetting our hardships.
Being a transplant patient is,
using the words of Al Gore, an inconvenient truth; one I’d like to forget. But
when I push the unpleasant memories beyond my consciousness, I neglect to have
my quarterly blood work done. I could miss early signs of rejection, and be back
on the path to kidney failure without even knowing it.
Denial – a very popular and
effective coping mechanism by the way – is even more devastating when the
implications transcend our personal situation. Denial influences our response
to the world. You see, when I don’t remember the agony of thirst, I’m likely to
diminish the suffering of others who thirst. When we lose our memories of
suffering, we risk losing our compassion.
Throughout their journey to
Jerusalem, the disciples didn’t want to hear what Jesus was trying to tell
them. The unnamed Greeks requesting to
see Jesus signaled how far-reaching and influential Jesus’ ministry had become;
Jesus knew his death was imminent. In a desperate attempt to shatter their
denial, Jesus rattles off what could be considered the Gospel’s top-ten list:
· The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.
· Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and
dies, it remains just a single grain.
· Those who love their life lose it.
· Where I am, there will my servant be also.
· Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
· And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to
myself.
Denial isn’t a sin. But it can
impede our ability to experience the fullness of life. My self-proclaimed
diagnosis - Chronic Idiosyncratic Optimism – has nothing to do with believing
in God, or being a good Christian. Optimism is the result of temperament, not an
exceptionally strong faith. But faith might help us to open our hardened hearts,
and to believe in God’s promise of a new spirit and a clean heart. And maybe a renewed
spirit will allow us to be present not only to ours, but to the world’s joys
and sorrows, darkness and light.
During Lent, our liturgical
rituals allow us to be especially mindful of the full spectrum of the human
condition. We begin our worship with the
confession, we ask for mercy and we stifle the alleluias. And, at the same
time, we continue to celebrate the Eucharist, never losing sight of God’s grace.
The story I told about thirst
wasn’t a random story of suffering. Thursday was World Water Day. And being
thirsty and without water was the most traumatic experience of my illness. After
this morning’s service, Timm Dobbins will give a presentation on El Porvenir –
a non-profit in Nicaragua whose mission is to improve the standard of living
for poor people though sustainable water, sanitation and reforestation
projects. El Porvenir is also the organization where we will be sending our
Lenten collection.
Now, please don’t beat yourself up
if you didn’t take home a mite bottle or if you neglected to fill the one you
did take home. You can still contribute to El Porvenir. In fact, I’m going to
make it easy for you. After our regular offertory collection, the ushers will
make a second round with this. Even if you have a mite bottle at home that’s full
of money, please consider an additional donation. If we each give what we can,
St. John’s could fund a new well to quench the thirst of an entire village.
There is no element in heaven or
on earth more life sustaining than water.
Listen to the prayer of
thanksgiving over the water that is said during the sacrament of Holy Baptism:
We thank you, Almighty God, for the gift of
water. Over it the Holy Spirit moved in the beginning of creation. Through it
you led the children of Israel out of their bondage in Egypt into the land of
promise. In it your Son Jesus received the baptism of John and was anointed by
the Holy Spirit to lead us, through his death and resurrection, from the
bondage of sin into everlasting life. We thank you, for the water of Baptism. In
it we are buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection.
Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.
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