“Prayer is not overcoming God’s reluctance, but laying hold to God’s willingness.” — Martin Luther
“We have been called to heal wounds, to unite what has fallen apart, and to bring home those who have lost their way.” ― Francis of Assisi
Physician Rachel Naomi Remen tells of a patient and friend named Jessie, who was being treated for cancer. Due to the radiation, Jessie suffered a temporary bowel obstruction. When the pain became serious enough to indicate something was wrong, she packed an overnight bag and then drove herself to the hospital emergency room, twenty-five miles away. The pain became so intense that she had to pull off the road and vomit multiple times. She spent a full day in the ER before finally getting a bed. When Dr. Remen saw her and heard the story, she asked Jessie why she had not called any of her friends to drive her there or sit with her in the ER or just to let them know.
Jessie said, “They were all working and, besides, none of my friends know a thing about intestinal obstruction.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?” Remen asked.
“Well, it’s not really your field either,” she replied.
“Jessie,” [Remen] said, “even children instinctively run to others when they fall down.”
With a great deal of heat she said, “Yes, I’ve never understood that. It’s so silly. Kissing the boo-boo doesn’t help the pain at all.”
[Remen] was stunned. “Jessie,” [she] said, “it doesn’t help the pain, it helps the loneliness.” [from Kitchen Table Wisdom, 1996, pp. 59-60, direct quotation in italics; as related by John Shea, Eating with the Bridegroom, 167]
Loneliness is often a companion to sickness and suffering. In our pain we feel isolated and alone. That feeling of isolation may be grounded in fact. For proof, says Barbara Brown Taylor, “Just ask the sick how many of their friends disappeared when they took to their beds.” [ “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 113] Or consider the truth of the old blues song: “Nobody knows you, when you’re down and out.” But, our reading from James reminds us that we do not need to suffer alone. “Are any among you suffering? They should pray.” [v. 13] Prayer is communion with God. The very act of praying is an acknowledgement that we are not alone. God is present and ready to hear our prayers and respond. As the Islamic tradition states, God knows our innermost thoughts and is closer to us than our own jugular vein.[i] [Quran 50.16] Thus, as our own Judeo- Christian tradition puts it, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for God is with me, to comfort me, to provide for me, to show me abundant goodness and mercy all the days of my life and beyond. [Psalm 23.4-6] The spiritual presence of God is surely a real and powerful source of comfort and help.
Yet this spiritual presence is also embodied. God’s love and grace are made concrete in the church, in the presence and actions of the people of God. James acknowledges this when he writes, “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them…” [v. 14]. The sick are encouraged to reach out to other people, specifically their fellow Christians, who ought to be willing to come to them, to listen, to pray, to lay on hands, to bring casseroles, to just sit and be there, and to offer any other help that is needed. Their presence and prayers often mark the end of suffering and loneliness and the beginning of healing and wholeness
Part of the power of prayer, it seems, is that it builds community—thus overcoming isolation and loneliness—community with both God and one another. And there is help and healing in community. As Mark Douglas points out, prayer both expresses and creates care. He writes, “Prayer for James is not a private matter. Instead, it helps to shape a particular kind of community in which people are committed to each other….For James, the community that prays together stays together.” [“Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, 112] In such a committed community, there is power to make broken human lives whole again by forgiving sins, bringing back those who wander, and saving the sick. Elizabeth Johnson translates that last phrase, “save the sick,” as “restore the weary,” which she suggests points toward a wholeness that includes far more than can be achieved by “merely prescribing antibiotics.” [“Exegetical Perspective,” Ibid.,, 113] Through the power of the Holy Spirit and the love of the community of faith, God seeks to raise us up by healing us not only physically, but also relationally and spiritually.
Allow me to illustrate with a couple of stories.
Kathy Dawson tells of a beloved organist who was suffering a severe heart condition. The prognosis was bad; the condition was most likely fatal. The congregation rallied around her. The clergy and lay leaders came, multiple times, to her sick bed and prayed. Ordinary members of the congregation came in twos, threes, fives—to pray, to talk, to sing, to just sit. A group of Indonesian members, all of whom were health care workers, came, bathed her, and then anointed her with a sweet-smelling perfume. The pastor and a group of church members held “an impromptu healing service in the waiting room.” Throughout most of this time, the organist was unconscious. But, after many days, many visits, many touches and many prayers she woke up, made a complete recovery and went home. [“Pastoral Perspective,” Ibid., 112, 114] The prayers of God’s people are powerful and effective! [5.16]
When Ken Carter was a young pastor, he and everyone else were surprised to see Marvin. Realizing, that “no one comes to church, early on a Sunday morning, for the first time, unless something is going on,” Carter paid Marvin a visit a couple days later.
Turns out Marvin had an advanced case of cancer. He looked at Carter and said, “I was listening to the radio, and the speaker was talking about bringing the elders of the church to pray over the sick, and anoint them. Do you ever do that? Would you do that for me?" And so, a few days later, Carter returned with some trepidation—he had never done this type of thing before, hadn’t learned how to do it in seminary. He brought with him Dale, an equally nervous lay leader. Together they planned to pray and anoint Marvin.
Carter began by reading this morning’s scripture, James 5.13-20. Then he looked at Marvin and asked, “Do you have anything to confess?” This, he knew, was a loaded question. Marvin was a polarizing figure in the community; you either liked him or despised him. And it wasn’t just folks in the community he alienated. His own son was estranged from him. Marvin had, in Carter’s phrase, done some hard living.
The question was followed by a long, weighty pause…and then it all gushed forth. In the presence of his wife, the pastor and a lay leader, Marvin began to confess. Feeling that his time was short, he let it all out, confessing his sins, admitting his mistakes, lamenting his foolishness. And when at last he had unburdened his soul, they all prayed: first Marvin, then his wife, Dale the lay leader, and finally Carter prayed. After that, Carter and Dale anointed Marvin with oil and prayed that God would grant him healing.
Marvin lived six more months. I don’t think his condition ever improved all that much. But something miraculous did happen. Marvin changed; and people changed towards him. He began coming to church each week. And he was welcomed and accepted. Carter describes how his relationships with folks in the congregation and in his family were transforming: “People began to warm to him. He became more than the object of their curiosity or the focus of their gossip. He became their brother in Christ. Some would have honestly told you that they had never expected this to happen. Marvin went to his son, and they reconciled. All was not perfect--it was never a Kodak moment--but often, when I would stop by to see Marvin, his son would be there.” [Rev. Dr. Ken Carter, “To Make the Wounded Whole,” Sept. 27, 2009, http://day1.org/1436-to_make_the_wounded_whole] Marvin wasn’t cured of his cancer, but he was healed: his spirit was healed and his relationships were healed. Isolation was replaced by community; love overcame enmity. His heart was now open to receive grace and help and God began to make whole all that was broken in his life. And of course, we know that he, and all of us, will be raised up on the last day when God makes all things new. Marvin began to receive this healing and wholeness after he reached out and asked others to pray for him. Truly, the prayers of God’s faithful people are powerful and effective!
My friends, Tennyson spoke the truth when he declared:
More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of—
Wherefore, let thy voice
Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
[Tennyson, Idylls of the King, “The Passing of Arthur,” lines 415-423]
Bodies are healed; relationships are mended; sins are forgiven; anxious minds are set at peace; enemies are reconciled; the lonely find community; new possibilities are created; minds are opened; broken hearts are made whole. Yes, more things are wrought by the prayers of God’s people and by the grace God then we dare imagine. Therefore, let our voices “rise like a fountain for [one another] night and day”[ii] trusting that God hears and, with love and grace, responds in ways we do not expect to bring us healing and wholeness. Amen.
[i] "And indeed We have created man, and We know whatever thoughts his inner self develops, and We are closer to him than (his) jugular vein." (Quran 50:16)
[ii] Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Idylls of the King: “The Passing of Arthur,” lines 416-17