December 30, 2007:  GET OUT!      
Matthew 2:13-23; Psalm 139:17, 19-22
Eileen Parfrey  --  Springwater Presbyterian Church

 

Empire hates to be tricked.  In this passage, Matthew critiques Empire as the quintessential “bad guys.”  Empire (Herod) bases its power on a presumption of “not enough,” and succeeds in hanging onto power by forcing others to pay the cost.  God’s anointed (the Child) points out the wrongness of Empire’s scarcity theology and so must leave or die.  Matthew’s Jewish audience can appreciate 3 prophetic fulfillments:  “out of Egypt” (themes of exile and return; leaving home), Rachel weeping for her children (the injustice of violence done to innocents), and “Nazorean” label as context for the Anointed (either that of religious dedication, geographic location, or ancestry)              

            The other young woman of the trio showed surprise.  “I was so intimidated by you, Coco.  Big shot city career, power lunches, designer clothes.” They took in the irony of Coco’s hoodie and jeans. “I couldn’t imagine how you managed everything,” Deidre said.  “I thought I was the only one who paid in grief for her child.”  The older woman put down her coffee cup. “That’s part of why I wanted to get you two together today,” she said.  “I wanted you two to know you aren’t alone. My hope is that you share your stories with each other and the congregation.  They’re too precious to disappear with me!”  The younger women knew Bunny was preparing for her final bout with cancer and they’d already covered that subject in detail.  Sensing an opening to change the subject, Coco turned to Deidre.  “Can you share your grief?  Was it over Alec’s disability?”

“Yeah,” Deidre breathed.  “That, and knowing exactly what to expect.  His older sister had died of it before she was 2.”  Coco inhaled sharply.  “Rosa suffered so much before she died,” Deidre continued.  “Eight hospitalizations, three heart surgeries.  I wept rivers of tears for Rosa—for her suffering, her limitations, her inevitable death. When she died, the docs said it would be best to have another baby right away.  We didn’t know it was a genetic problem, so we went ahead, and when Tim was perfect, we decided to try for another.”  She blinked back tears.  “Right from the start it was a troubled pregnancy.  By then, genetic testing was pretty sophisticated, and we discovered that Dave and I both carry a rare, recessive gene.”  Her smile was ironic.  “The genes are so rare, what were the odds we’d find each other?”  Suddenly fierce, Deidre said, “They offered a ‘therapeutic’ abortion and gave us two weeks to decide.  ‘Therapeutic’ for whom?  Baby as collateral damage in the war on bad genes.  The best we knew was the ultra sound showed he wouldn’t need the surgeries his sister had needed.”  A few heartbeats passed while Bunny gave Deidre a long look. “That child blesses the whole church,” she said.  Bunny spent her Sunday mornings shadowing Alec.  A retired special ed teacher, when she realized Deidre wasn’t coming to church because Alec needed trained caregivers, she had volunteered to be his Sunday School companion.  Deidre’s grief had become gratitude for the care given her family, and she’d shown it by serving as a deacon. 

It was the congregational acceptance of Bunny’s ministry with Alec that had given Coco confidence to bring Zach to church.  “If you hadn’t loved Alec,” she said, “I wouldn’t have listened when you talked with me about Zach.  Do you remember?”  Bunny nodded.  “You saw something besides bad parenting, and I wouldn’t be in church if you hadn’t helped me find my way out of that strange country I was in.”  Bunny exclaimed, “And think of all the soup that would not have been made!” Bunny had advised a visit to the Waisman Center, where they learned about Aspberger’s syndrome (a kind of autism) and how to adjust Zach’s living and learning situations to meet his peculiar needs.  “I guess power lunches translate pretty easily into the ministry of soup,” Coco admitted.  Deidre blurted, “Is it true you’ve got a freezer full of just soup? When Alec goes to the hospital, you’re at our house with a week’s worth of soup before the bracelet is even on his wrist.  Dave and Tim appreciate having something to eat while I’m away with Alec,” she added.  Coco conceded it wasn’t a full freezer, “But,” she added, “it’s good therapy when Zach’s having one of his bouncing-off-the-walls days.  I can get him to focus by scrubbing vegetables and sorting beans.” 

“I didn’t know beans had to be sorted,” Deidre began, but Coco beat her to it. “They don’t,” she said.  “It helps Zach come out of an episode.”  The three women looked knowing.  A child with Asperger’s syndrome will look normal, and even be brighter and more creative than the average kid.  But emotions run wild, and life must be predictable and frustration-free or colossal tantrums ensue.  Many Asperger children, like Zach, don’t know the meaning of stop.  Between Zach’s demanding behavior, his medical appointments, tests, therapy, research into potential causes, medications, non-chemical interventions, and just plain advocating for him, Zach had been Coco’s full time job since he was three.  Except for her ministry of soup. 

“What wears me out,” Coco was speaking, “is Zach needs constant supervision.  If I let up for an instant, disaster occurs.  He can’t play unattended, even in a fenced yard, because he has nothing in him to limit impulses.  It feels like he was born with his throttle stuck at all the way on. And people look at me and think, ‘Worst mother in the world.  Why can’t she control that kid?’  It’s a good thing my career taught me to multi-task.” 

Deidre could appreciate this.  “Are you saying that the fast lane prepared you to be the mother of a child with autism?”  Coco glanced at her watch.  “Yes, and speaking of the fast lane, ladies, I’ve gotta get you back to the church.  I volunteer in Zach’s classroom on Tuesday afternoons.”  Bunny asked, “Isn’t he in a mainstream classroom?” They put on their coats and headed out the door.  “He is,” Coco said, “but that also means his teacher just landed in the Netherlands.  I need to be there to interpret Zach’s world for her, and while I’m at it, I also help with other little jobs around the classroom.”

            “Better watch out,” Bunny cautioned Coco humorously.  “You might find yourself teaching someday.”  Coco shook her head in denial while Bunny countered, “I didn’t start out to be a special ed teacher, either.”  Deidre’s seatbelt was giving her trouble as she said, “But we’re glad you did, Bunny.  You’ve helped us all so much—Coco in her exile to the Netherlands, me with all my weeping.  You’ve given us another perspective.  It’s not always easy to see God’s kingdom from the position of disabilities.”

            “That’s another reason I organized this outing,” Bunny said.  “You know the docs say I’m terminal.”  The two women tried to speak, but Bunny kept talking.  “Soon I won’t be strong enough to be with Alec on Sundays.  So I’ve suggested that session hire students from the teacher’s college to accompany Alec and Zach during Sunday School.  It’s good experience for them,” she explained as Coco and Deidre looked wary, thinking of churches and tight finances.  “Stan and I are funding the first year,” Bunny assured them, “and memorials from my funeral will go to that fund.”  The other two women were murmuring something grateful.  “But you two will need to advocate,” Bunny said.  “Even in the church, economics carry weight.  Your story shows” she said to Deidre, “that you know how to use power.”  Deidre opened her mouth to protest, but Bunny said, “I know because of the way you decided to have Alec.  You knew it was a costly decision, but you used your power to protect someone vulnerable, to limit his suffering, and still receive him as gift.  As you grieve, your consolation becomes empathy.” 

            Bunny turned to Coco.  “You’re living in exile,” she said, “and no one ever chooses that.  You’re stuck, but you get things stirred up.  You’re unique, in that you can move between the two countries—the one with the fast lane and Zach’s world.  You’re a translator, and you’ve proved that by researching autism and learning strategies and bringing that to Zach’s teachers.”  They had pulled into the church parking lot, and Stan was waiting for Bunny in their old Toyota.  “Now do that here,” Bunny said.  “Both of you.  Take a stand for all the kids like your boys, for God’s sake.  They’re not just part of God’s kingdom.  They are the way to it.  All vulnerable people are.”

            “Oh Bunny,” the younger women said.  “We want to believe that.”  Bunny had one foot out the door but looked over her shoulder to say.  “I thought you knew.  God’s kingdom isn’t about ‘what I’ve got, what I can do.’  It’s about ‘who I am.’  And your boys,” she gestured to both of them, “Your boys prove that.  The bad guys don’t win when you live that way.”