I was sitting with a group of friends in the plaza at City Hall and all of a sudden Kat runs up to me with a pigeon in her hands. Before I knew what was happening she thrust this filthy bird in front of me and said to me, “Can you please hold onto this bird while I cut the string that is wrapped around its claw.” I didn’t hesitate. I took the bird into my hands as she took out a little pair of scissors to cut the string. I was caught in a moment in which I secretly wished wasn’t happening. The bird was scaly and flaky. It twisted around in my hands so that I had to hold onto it more tightly. I could feel the bird breathing and it’s heart beating.
Kat successfully removed the string and I let go and the bird flew away. Letting go, for a moment, I felt like I was flying up and away with the bird. The moment passed and I followed Kat to find a place to wash our hands. And I really, really washed. There was something about the association of pigeons to disease and filth that triggered a sense of repulsion in me.
That brief moment that I shared with my friend Kat and the pigeon was surreal for me. I mean, who does that? Who goes around looking for pigeons to heal? Of all animals why pigeons?
Albert, a man that knows intimately the harsh realities of living on the edge of society, every day struggling to find enough food to eat and a place to sleep, asked me once, “Do you know where pigeons come from? God gave them to the poor in Biblical times so that they would have something to sacrifice. Today, the pigeons swarm around the filth and disease of our city. Amidst our greed and abundance, these birds sacrifice themselves by eating our diseased filth,” he told me. It seemed to me that he associated himself, and those like him, with the pigeon. The outcast of birds, the outcast of persons.
Our urban culture displays signs that read “Do not feed the pigeons” alongside signs that read “No panhandling,” “No trespassing,” “Customers only,” “No sitting.” It becomes pretty clear where the lines are drawn and who has the power and who does not. The line is drawn arbitrarily depending on how someone should look. A homeless person who is able to get clean clothes and a shower might be able to cross these lines without any consequence. Usually, however, the cultural response is one of hostility and repulsion which only exacerbates the deep burden of feeling hopeless, worthless and less than whole.
The scripture that has taken a hold of my life this week is from the first chapter in the Gospel according to Mark. Mark remembers the event like this:
According to the King James Version:
40 And there came a leper to him, beseeching him, and kneeling down to him, and saying unto him, If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
41 And Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth his hand, and touched him, and saith unto him, I will; be thou clean.
42 And as soon as he had spoken, immediately the leprosy departed from him, and he was cleansed.
43 And he straitly charged him, and forthwith sent him away;
44 And saith unto him, See thou say nothing to any man: but go thy way, show thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing those things which Moses commanded, for a testimony unto them.
45 But he went out, and began to publish it much, and to blaze abroad the matter, insomuch that Jesus could no more openly enter into the city, but was without in desert places: and they came to him from every quarter.
Now, the leper is a living symbol of marginality. The disease itself is awful, but the consequence of the disease is estrangement and isolation. In the times of Jesus, a person with leprosy was considered unclean and this man should have shouted out “Unclean! Unclean!” as he approached Jesus. But the man with leprosy knows that Jesus is the threshold to the kin-dom of God, of which Jesus is preaching. The leper in his great desperation for restoration and wholeness bravely approaches Jesus and earnestly begs and kneels and cries “If you have the will, the power, you can make me clean, make me whole. Restore me to the life of the community and give me dignity.”
Now, before we move on to Jesus’ response I find it important to point out the certainty that this leper felt in Jesus’ ability to perform this miracle. This is a confidence that only the Holy Spirit can articulate. He does not ask Jesus if he is capable, but implores Jesus to use his power to bring him wholeness. He knows that Jesus can heal him.
Jesus, according to the scripture, is moved with compassion. Now, this word translated as compassion actually comes from the Greek root meaning the bowels, intestines, liver, etc. In other words, Jesus felt it in his gut. The gut is the seat of the emotions of pity, anger, and compassion. There was something about this leper that reached into the very depth of Jesus’ being. Perhaps, Jesus looked into the eyes of this man and saw in an instant his heartache, his loneliness, his despair. I’m sure the mere sight of the leper caused some reaction from him. I wonder if Jesus might have felt and repulsion or disgust. The word that is translated as compassion is complicated enough to incorporate a wide range of emotion and perhaps several contradicting emotions was felt by Jesus. In spite of these feelings, Jesus acts. He reaches out his hand and touches him and says to him “I will, be thou clean.”
In the beginning years of AIDS in this country most people were terrified that they might be infected by touching someone with this disease. The disease seemed to spread like wildfire in our communities and there were little answers to what it was and how it was transmitted. Yet, in spite of this fear, and in order to protect the dignity of the person with AIDS many brave people ventured to take the chance and touch a person who was dying of AIDS, like Princess Di. The stigma associated with HIV, in my experience of living with it for 14 years, has caused me to feel the sting of isolation, rejection, and shame.
I have been blessed to part of communities that were not afraid to embrace and call me one of their own. I belong to communities that proclaim, “If one of us has AIDS, we all do.” It is a wonderful feeling to be part of a community that is willing to share the burden of this disease and to see me as myself and not as one who is a disease. It is as if I had said to my community, “If thou wilt, you can make me whole.” And they said, “Of course, we will walk together and fight to find a cure.” Every June, I volunteer for the AIDS Lifecycle and am surrounded by these kinds of beautiful people.
Jesus heals the leper. He tells the leper to show himself to the priest and to offer those things that are required by law for being cleansed. It seems to me that Jesus’ intention is to challenge the priest to recognize that God is doing a new thing. He says, “as a testimony unto them.” But, instead, the Spirit of healing that this man received moved him to proclaim this miracle to everybody. The admonition to not tell anyone is not obeyed. The scripture uses the word blaze to describe the movement of this miracle throughout the area. Like a wildfire, this gospel, the good news, is uninhibited.
Jesus is calling us to forge these kinds of alliances with people, and maybe pigeons, who are on the margins of society. Isolation and segregation does nothing to bring the kin-dom of God nearer to us. This kin-dom of God is made manifest in recognizing that we can move with courage like the leper and to have faith, deep certainty, that Jesus has the power to make us whole. We also must remember, that as the church universal, we are the body of Christ. As that body, we not only have the power, but the duty to reach out our hands, to touch those on the margins, and to draw them into an embrace of community and wholeness.
The kin-dom of God is at hand! Indeed, it is as close as our own hands. If we are ready to transform our world and our lives we must be willing to claim our unity with Christ. St. Paul understood this very well, for him, we become the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. He writes, “For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal 3.26-27)
The pigeon I held in my hand. Nothing more than just a bird. But there was a moment of connection as we released him from his bondage and set him free from our hands. The bird soared high above the treetops and buildings of San Francisco. When we as the body of Christ work together to release ourselves from the bondage that ties us to our isolation, despair and shame we, too, will soar above the treetops and the Spirit of freedom will lead us to the kin-dom of God.
Michael Mallory
January 2011