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“The Swimmer” Sermon by Brian Russo November 8, 2009, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Isaiah 35:3-10 John 1:1-5; 9:1-12 The original title of this sermon was “The Quarter, The Cookie and The Swimmer.” Well, much to my chagrin, and perhaps maybe also to yours, there will be no such “quarter” or “cookie” alluded to this morning. Yes, there it is, I can see the disappointment on your faces. But you see, I was sick this week. And when I came up with the title, I had a grand idea involving this “cookie” and “quarter.” However, when you’re barely sleeping, sweating out illnesses, and hopped up on Ibuprofen, you probably shouldn’t be trying to come up with clever titles to sermons. So here we are this morning with just “The Swimmer,” and because of my less-than-with-it state, what will certainly turn out to be a much shorter sermon. You happy? Great! As many of you are aware, today is Commitment Sunday. But, before I officially begin I should mention that this sermon will NOT be about your financial commitment, your pledge, OK? I promise. And I feel I must say this because of what happened this past Thursday – apparently I scared a lot of people, and I really don’t want to go down that road again. You see, I was at the office, making phone calls to some of the Senior Members of our church, attempting to calendar a time that I could come out and make a visitation with them. But as soon as I introduced myself saying, “hello mrs. X, this is Brian Russo from the Presbyterian Church of Ches…”, the voice on the other end let out this ached-over grunt; an exasperation of nervous tension, as if I was some Italian Mob Boss seeking satisfaction for money not yet paid. And I’m not kidding either (even though I’ve already wasted most of your time kidding around so far); the first thing out of some of their mouths were, “is this about my pledge; I promise I’ll try to keep my word.” Now, I know I have a really scary, low-registered voice and all [sarcasm], not to mention a last name of Italian descent, but come on! It’s not like I’m out to break your knuckles, can’t a Minister just make a call these days? So I assure you, and promise you in a less empty way than those creepy aliens on V, that you have nothing to worry about today. For this morning, I am asking nothing of you, even if you hear me use the word “commitment.” For you see, the commitment I would like to speak of is a commitment of Biblical proportions, a commitment like the one we read about in John, a commitment that these confirmands [sitting in the second pew to the left] will be making just a few months from now. Forgoing the suspense, this commitment is your commitment to become a witness; to confirm what you have seen; to testify to an account of your own experience of Christ -- one which was not blindly accepted, but one that has been autonomously affirmed. And in our brilliant text this morning, we have just such an example of this: a man who was born blind, a beggar, an outcast, who in turn became his own witness. Look at verse 7 with me (John 9:7 “…go, wash in the pool of Siloam. Then he went and washed and came back able to see”). Now, I like to imagine that after this man was healed in the pools, he was nothing short of jubilant, exstatic. Perhaps he even ran around in non-concentric circles, jumping up and down like a child without a care in the world, or better, like Cindy giving a Children’s Sermon. Or maybe he was much more reserved, playing it cool like Cliff Lee catching a pop-up… who knows! But whatever he did, whoever he was, he must have at the very least felt reborn when light first encroached his eyes, when darkness finally began to fade away, when darkness no longer overcame. Just imagine then his surprise when no one would believe that he was the same man; that he was somehow faking it all. You see, since Jesus had already left the scene, this man had no one to vouch for him, no one to supercede on his behalf. He was reduced to redundancy, exclaiming, “I am the man… I am the man... I am that man.” This man then, who no one wanted to believe, who once was blind, was now his one and only witness! Just how amazing and literary then is this text? Think about it. This man was blind, but now he was able to see, he can witness things, and yet only he could be the witness that he was still the same man. Is this not brilliant – the word play, the irony, the message to us today? In John 9:12, the inquisitive masses ask “Where is he [this man that cures the blind],” and the now not-so-blind man’s response is “I do not know.” My friends, the message for us this morning, is that Jesus is not here sitting in one of those chairs, nor was he standing behind the shoulder of the blind man, gloating for all the world to see. Jesus, according to the text was and is nowhere, immediately, to be found. That it is up to us, to commit to become his witness that he was here, to pledge for his workings, to testify to what he has healed in us; just as it is also up to us to individually search for him, so that we no longer answer, “I do not know,” but that we keep a keen eye to all corners, all faces, and all experiences, at all times so that we may witness the next moment of divine revelation when it descends like the first light of morning. You see then, we truly are just like the blind man. For not only have we been left alone to testify our own account of faithful experience, but through our confirmation, we have also been given new vision, and thus an opportunity to see the coming and conquering of light – the goodness and glory of divinity at play. And that’s what it’s all about my friends. To set out on our own journey of faith, to reach each corner of our own personal Truman Shows (well, without all the strings and philosophical determination), but to look upon the waters, our Earth and its people, and to witness that it is indeed good. Conversely then, aren’t you so tired of those preachers, those news agencies, and that annoying main character on Flash Forward… all those guardians of melancholy, apathy and woe? Those people who look at the world and only see darkness? Well of course there is darkness, of course there is pain, agony and suffering, I’m not going to tell that there isn’t or that there’s an easy way to get over it, but can’t we, especially we as Christians, just try to make a little bit of light out of the positive of this life? Can’t we cherish and remark about that orange sunrise this morning, or how beautiful Mark’s organ playing is, or how at least one New York team really, really stinks (the Knicks)? And you know what too, who’s to say that in darkness there can’t also be light? After all, isn’t in the darkest of places that we always see the brightest of lights? I mean, I remember being in the Swiss Alps at midnight, all alone after I veered wrongly off a sled trail, and just being in complete awe at how bright the stars were… ah… but I digress. So, back to the point – what really bothers me, what really grinds my gears is this Proverbial understanding in John 9, verse 2, that if you are born of a “certain” way, than it must be because you or your blood line has sinned. It’s precisely this kind of mentality that creates the illusion that “well-to-do” people are somehow more worthy of righteousness than those who aren’t. But you know what? In my experience it’s been the exact opposite – it’s been the folks in the psychiatric home, the men and women in the chemical addiction unit, the “lame” in the special schools, that without a four minute warning, can drop an atomic bomb of divine awe in your lap. It’s been these people who have blown me away through acts of grace; these people in whom I’ve witnessed the magnificence of God’s work at play. [And that’s not to say you all are not of merit, you are my family – hell, you sang “Happy Birthday” to me in church! So please don’t mistake my words for that.] But going back, do I think, as John 9:3 suggests, that God perversely interferes with creation, just so that his glory can then be revealed when its finally rectified and illuminated? A resounding “NO.” But do I think that the grace of the mysterious divine can still somehow be revealed within those situations? Absolutely. For as I was saying, it’s been in those situations, those bleak, dark situations, that the greatest of Christ-Inspired light has been revealed, that it has shined! And I can think of no better example of this, than that which I experienced with our youth last weekend, when we went to The Overbrook School for the Blind for their inaugural “Swim Meet.” This Swim Meet was a competition between for four schools for the blind, hosted by Overbook in Philadelphia, competing against academies traveling from Maryland, New York, and West Virginia. And I’m sure our youth, Emily Ball, Caroline Podraza, Scott and Chris Bown, would all testify that these kids were simply… precious. They truly were the definition of awe and the epitome of our prayers and texts this morning. For darkness would not overcome. Many couldn’t see what they were diving into, but man oh man, they took the plunge anyway (sometimes painfully belly flopping); but darkness would not overcome! The smile on their faces, the way they congratulated each other on a race that apparently didn’t even matter to them; my friends, darkness would not overcome! It truly was as if the Kingdom of Heaven had descended and it was on display for all of us who could see to witness. And just think about the simplicity, and the power of this visual: as we were leaving, three teenagers, one Black, one White, one Asian, were all holding onto each other, trusting each other, hands on each others backs, as they slowly shuffled their way, together, to a nearby bench… and when they got to this bench, together, they began laughing out loud (about something I do not know), each smiling into the light of each other’s darkened eyes. And I watched all this as if through a slowed shutter speed. My God, I thought, the internal rainbow in their souls was all that mattered; every other color or pretense was secondary to the fact that they were simply there, that they existed, that in their humanity they were committed to each other, witnessing each other simply for who they were. It was stunning. And if that weren’t enough, there was this girl; a swimmer, no more than thirteen years old, who had to be lead to the pool by her coach. And as she felt nervously around the foreign terrain, I watched in awe at her commitment -- her commitment to her goal, her desire to enter into a pool of mystery, not knowing if water would actually be there, or if it would steaming hot or chillingly cold. And I watched as she put her trust in this man, her coach, as she eased into the water; just as I then witnessed her sighing flee away, her face overcome with joy and gladness that she had made it that far, that half of her challenge was conquered. It was at this moment that I snapped out of my daze, and decided to take a picture. And it was at that moment, that exact moment, that she turned toward me, and looked at me, seeing I do not know what… and smiled at me… making the Word become Flesh, becoming a witness to the texts, that light will not be overcome by darkness, and that the radiance of happiness as promised in Isaiah is in fact a possible reality. My friends, does this not speak to us? Does it not show us the way? Does it not encourage us to step outside into the darkness of the unfamiliar, to commit to our goal of witnessing for Christ – not just within these safe walls of the sanctuary, but also within a world where both bitterness and happiness, negative and positive collide? Thus, the message for today is simple. No matter how dark this world may seem at times, no matter how blind you or others may seem, there are still all sorts of flickering lights bright enough for us to see. The trick is simply getting out there, stepping outside of your own familiar bubbles and searching for it -- to pledge your time and open your eyes to an immensely divine and illuminated world that is just teeming at the seams to be seen. And trust me, when you do this, when you commit to becoming your own witness, your eyes will be open, and there you will see in the middle of every sea, the beacon of light that is the discovered Christ, who is anxiously awaiting the arrival of your personal vessel and testimony of faith. Amen. |