World AIDS Day Message 2011
Summary
A World AIDS Day message from Bishop Mathes. He talks about why we still need to have this day.
Message
World AIDS Day Service
Trinity,
December 1, 2011
Lamentations 3: 1-27
John 4: 5-42
Come Holy Spirit: Touch our minds and think with them, touch our lips and speak with them and touch our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. AMEN.
As I was approaching this day, I realized that this is the sixth time I have preached at this service on World AIDS day in the last seven years. I found myself wondering and a little worried. I wondered if I had anything new to say. And I worried that if I didn’t, and that if I repeated myself, you would think me a bit daft or lazy. Yet as I warmed to the task, I was released of my wondering about what to say by today’s gospel. And I was freed from a worry of repetition by a conviction that we are simply going to have to keep repeating the message of this day until, as the theme of this day puts it, “Getting to Zero.”
So here is where we are on this “fragile earth, our island home.” After decades of living through arguably the worst global pandemic in human history, approximately 25 million people have died. While the infection rates have dropped nationally and around the world, there were 2.7 million people infected with HIV last year. Of those, 390,000 were children. The impact of this disease remains huge. The human suffering and lost potential behind these numbers should bring tears to our eyes. Behind these numbers, you will find a seventeen-year-old woman in the Bronx who has just found out that in addition to being pregnant, her boyfriend passed on to her what is still a stigmatizing infection. In Kenya, two of our missionaries from San Diego, Drs. Nan and Gerry Hardison, begin to prepare to return to the States, having made their home in Maseno North, where they ran a hospital, held together with sweat, love, and duct tape; they also ran a food program for hundreds of AIDS orphans being raised by siblings and grandparents. And there is the young viral man in Kansas City, or Dallas or Escondido, who is HIV positive and does not know it, and does not protect his partners. One in five of those in the United States who are infected do not know it. The faces behind this past year’s infections: if we look at each face for twelve seconds it would take us the rest of this year. To be sure, there remain at least 2.7 million new things to say about HIV/AIDS this year.
Indeed, the day may come when I and other preachers have nothing new to say about AIDS, but this is not the year. That year will be when we get to zero. And much work remains. And in a mystical way on this night, our work for today and tomorrow takes us to a faraway land and in a distant time.
Like all good stories, this story could begin with the words, “once upon a time.” Such introduction makes us expectant. Our ears are made ready and our interest quickens. So let me start it that way: Once upon a time, a Jewish teacher was in the land of Samaria. Now, Jews hated Samaritans and Samaritans really did not care for Jews. This teacher was thirsty from his journey. He comes to an ancient and deep well. At the well is a Samaritan woman who has a bucket to reach the water.
The two meet. They could not be more distant from each other. Two strangers, Jew and Samaritan, the teacher and the ignorant, the man and the woman, the holy one and…well, we did hear about all those husbands. Through water, this teacher, Jesus, touches this unnamed Samaritan woman. He speaks to her, he receives from her, and he blesses her with human dignity.
The well is common ground. It is the place where all sorts come for something essential for life. In the story, Jesus will remain thirsty without the benefit of a shared bucket and a willingness to ignore social and religious taboos. And through the encounter, the woman is transformed. She sees that she has been touched by the holy.
In this encounter, we can receive our lesson, our veritable charge on this 24th World AIDS Day. We are to be like Jesus. We are to speak, receive and bless!
We are to speak to those who suffer. We do that first this night in our prayers. Our prayers are a conversation with each other, with God, and with those who suffer both in our midst and around the world. We speak to them and let them know that they are not forgotten. We claim them as children of God, those with inestimable value, whose every hair on their head is numbered. They are known by God; they are treasured by us, even though not known.
And then going deeper, we receive from them. Just as Jesus received the water from the bucket of the Samaritan woman, we have something that we need to receive from those infected with AIDS and those suffering from HIV. We need to receive their stories. We need to abide with them. Like Jesus at the well of Jacob. We should linger. We should connect. And let me get a bit earthy here. At the well, Jesus drinks from the same vessel as the woman. I am sure that if someone was there from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, they would have advised Jesus and the woman to act differently—pour from the bucket into separate cups. And while that might be sound advice, we all know that we cannot live in bubbles or be truly human and avoid risk. And yet, relative to AIDS, we need not worry about being human to each other. And so we should receive the hugs and kisses, even the drinks of cool water from our brothers and sisters who are infected with HIV.
When we do this, we are already in the process of blessing them. We bless them when, in the words of the Baptismal Covenant of our church, we respect their human dignity. We bless them when we see them fully for who they are—just like us—flawed, broken, and yet charged with potential and cherished. I am reminded of a pivotal the movie, Seabiscuit, when the trainer, Tom Smith, after being told by other horse folk that this thoroughbred, Seabiscuit, is worthless, responds, “ You don't throw a whole life away just 'cause he's banged up a little bit.” Indeed.
That is it in a nutshell. It is true of horses and of people. It is true of a woman at a Samarian well with many mates. It is true of the woman in the Bronx, the orphans of Masano, the unknowingly infected, virile man. It is true of each and every one of us. And so, let us not forget this night why we are here. Let us continue to remember and pray. Let us work and advocate so that someday, not too far away we will get to zero.
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