Only The Heart Sees Clearly

Most Rev Dianne Sullivan
This homily is about exploring how this message from the book the Little Prince fits today’s gospel and today’s events.

Two African American men were shot by local police, this past week, one in Tulsa, Oklahoma and the other in Charlotte, North Carolina. This scene has been repeated again and again. Protests erupted in Charlotte, with anger, violence and great pain.

The history of trauma is played out in the streets. We see the history of oppression and anger; the history of 250 years of slavery; the history of Jim Crow and the lynching’s of the first part of the 20th century; church bombings and the freedom riders; the bravery of Rosa Parks; the march at Selma; the pain of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement of the 60’s culminating in the demand for respect, recognition and equality.

“Only the heart sees clearly what is invisible to the eyes.”

The Buddhist author, Thich Nhat Hanh writes about the importance of being “present.” He emphasizes the need to look deeply moment by moment. He questions when looking at a flower do we really see it’s beauty? Can we distinguish one flower from the next? How open are our eyes and minds? And why is that even important?

In the story of the Little Prince, the Little Prince speaks about his flower, the rose. She appears one day on his planet as a shrub and takes her time growing, blooming one morning with the sun. The little prince is enchanted by the rose’s beauty and cares for her. It is through that caring that he sees her uniqueness as he grows to love her.

It is through love and compassion we can distinguish one person from the other. It is through love and compassion that we acquire eyes to really see.

Each one of us is unique and different in so many ways and yet so similar. Our needs are different, our experiences, values and perceptions are different. Unless we have attitudes, beliefs and perceptions that allow us to see one another other we cannot serve one another. Only love and compassion can serve and heal.

What prevented the rich man from seeing, appreciating and caring for Lazarus?

Are we so put off by the disabilities or scares, warts and illness of others that we cannot see with our hearts?

Are we so dedicated to the beautiful, the vigorous, the familiar and the healthy that our eyes can barely focus on something that is different?

Was the wealthy man so caught up in his own wealth and comfort that he didn’t have the will to see?

“Only the heart sees clearly what is invisible to the eye.”

We can’t end deadly prejudice in all it’s sinister forms. We can’t change a person’s beliefs or perceptions. We can’t make someone see or appreciate the other, but love can.

Love is what sustains us. When the roots of a tree are shallow, eventually the tree will die. The roots need to run deep.

Love is what runs deep and gives life to our bones, our blood, to our lives.

There is a story of Saint Teresa of Calcutta who said, “I once picked up a woman from a garbage dump and she was burning with fever; she was in her last days and her only lament was: ‘My son did this to me.’ I begged her: ‘You must forgive your son. In a moment of madness, when he was not himself, he did a thing he regrets. Be a mother to him, forgive him.’ It took her a long time for her say: ‘I forgive my son.’ Just before she died in my arms, she was able to say that with a real forgiveness. She was not concerned that she was dying. The breaking of her heart was that her son did not want her. This is something you and I can understand.” Mother Teresa

The trauma of Tulsa and Charlottte can be healed when we dig deep and begin to listen without assumptions; when we dig deep and tell our stories and maybe, just maybe we might be moved by each other’s story and understand that we need one another. We can’t just tolerate one another, we must understand and need one another in order to be whole.

And perhaps the story from the gospel of 2016 can be, “I was rich and cared for nothing outside of myself until one day I woke up when I looked beyond my own doorstep. There I saw a most beautiful man who was teaching me in the most tender way how to give of myself and to provide for another. I saw his beauty only. Despite his illness and wounds I saw a light from his soul and it was brilliant. He taught me how to care. He saved me in the most important way. He saved my humanity.”

Who is teaching you? Who or what is your Lazarus?

The Shepherds in Our Lives

Most Rev Dianne Sullivan

Today, 9/11/16, we remember and honor the many men and women who died on the infamous 9/11. Fifteen years ago something horrendous occurred and for too many the scars of trauma remain, their lives forever changed.

Today’s homily is not about 9/11, but rather those human moments, the twists and turns of our lives, when we are upended, lost, or our hopes dashed.

Yet hopelessness reaches towards hope and hurt moves toward healing. When we feel lost there is an opportunity to be found.

The promise and covenant of Jesus is that no matter the circumstances of our lives God is with us.

Take the experience of walking through the forest.

We walk deep into the forest trying to make note of where we are. The trees know where they are but we feel lost. But are we?

When our daughter Kristin was 10 years old we hiked up the popular Talcott Mountain in Simsbury, two families with five children between us. Kristin ran ahead of the sauntering adults and when we arrived at the designated meeting place she was no-where to be found. Panic went through my heart! We decided one adult would stay with the children and the other three would go in three different directions, calling, running, asking anyone on the trail. We found the ranger on duty. He had a mountain bike and a radio. I went back to the fork in the trail and sat by the enormous tree that held that space with authority. I prayed and cried. I was a mess. My little girl was lost and despite my best instincts, my deepest love, I could not bring her back.

In today’s gospel the shepherd has lost one of his sheep, something that was equally precious to him. How often we find ourselves in a similar position. Or in the opposite position where we feel lost, hurt, broken, our hopes dashed. When we find ourselves in this very human place, our hope is thin.

There is a sweet story of a little boy who was very sad. His mother suggested they pray. The little boys says, “But I can’t see God.” His mother responds, “God is here.” And the little boy says, “I need God with skin on.” And don’t we all.

It is the shepherds in our lives, God with skin on, that bring hope; our grandmothers, our aunts, our friends and neighbors, our teachers, pastors and rabbis.

There is the story of an Indian couple. He an artist, scientist and she was a writer and activist. He went blind and she lost feeling in her body from the shoulders down after a car accident. He cared for her for her entire life. They inspired and served everyone they met. Through painstaking art creation, inspired stories, and service groups this couple made a difference in the lives of every heart they touched. She died in 2008 and he had his 80th birthday yesterday. When we are inspired we gather up our courage from the stories of the brave.

Simply, at times we need to be reminded to put one foot in front of the other. If when we look into the eyes of another and we can see a light, a spark of hope that’s what gives us a sense of confidence and courage to move and to persevere. When someone is brave, we can be brave. When someone works to overcome obstacles we are inspired as well. When someone is mindfully accepting, we are reminded to dig deep and do the same.

If there is one recurring theme that Jesus preached it was the constant, magnificent and consistent love of God. The mission of Jesus was to make God accessible. And the continuous mission of Jesus today, is to make God come alive in the past, the present and the future. He is the ever-alive son pointing to the Father’s love as the way to shed ourselves of anything that is not true to our being, not true to our passions and that lives without hope and acceptance.

The shepherd in the gospel leaves his flock to find one lost sheep. And when he finds that sheep he carries it on his shoulders back to the flock. That he carries the sheep causes me to pause.

How many times have you felt carried by God?

How many times have you been picked up and then set down in greener pastures? How many times have you imagined the worst only to experience things working through. And how often we forget, we are being carried.

True, things don’t always work out, we feel disappointed or afraid, but things usually work. My experience has taught me that when I can relax and stop fighting what is, I can accept things as they are with a soft mind and soft heart.

Now to finish the story of our daughter, Kristin.

I sat at the fork in the road, and leaned against that giant tree, crying and praying. I found myself appealing to Mary, mother of Jesus. She’s a mother and she knew my fear.

After an eternity of slow motion time Kristin appeared like a mirage, running down the path breathless. She was sobbing, eyes swollen, nose red, an anguished mouth twisted. I was sobbing. She fell into my arms and I rocked her and held her, moaning deeply. I am sure that God found my girl that day and brought her to safety. I am sure God sat me down on the good earth, to wait by that big sprawling rooted tree. And I am sure that God rejoiced when we were reunited.

So many lives were lost on 9/11. There was no reuniting. Yet the best of who we are was experienced during and after that unspeakable horror. There were hundreds of shepherds that day, who sought the trapped, the injured, the frightened.

The best of who we are responds to the servant’s call to serve and love one another. Whether we are 15, 51, or 81 years old we can love well, we can comfort well, we can be God with skin on, we can give and we can receive, we can seek out the lost and bring one another home to the meeting place and rejoice together.