May 28, 2006 Des Moines

Text:  John 5:2-9

 

Prayers of the People

We are grateful for fertile soil, O God – black, rich soil the likes of which gives rise to corn and beans and food and feed and fuel and flowers and all manner of benefits for our living.  We are grateful for stimulating and gratifying soils, the likes of which give rise to graduations and treasured relationships and accomplishments and more. 

And we are also grateful for deep, evocative soils like solitude in the garden and prayers in the morning, like scripture study, compassionate and prophetic service and praise alongside others – soils the likes of which give rise to vibrance of the soul and the illumination of your face among us.  Planting such fields, dear God, help us to be patient in waiting for the growth.  But let us not simply wait.  Knowing that you, finally, are the one who gives the growth, prod us, as well, to do our part – to tend and cultivate and then utilize what grows.  Bless us with courage and initiative, and use our gifts and opportunities, our relationships and energies, our conversations and our conflicts as seeds of your kingdom emerging among us.  These things we pray in the name of Jesus.  Amen.

 

Instead of Waiting

The Gospel as Opposed to Rapunzel

As with so many such stories, the Grimm’s Fairy Tale of Rapunzel is rooted in promises made and promises broken; deceit and punishment; longing and love.  I won’t bore you with all the background details.  It is enough to recall that a lovely girl named Rapunzel is a gift child born to a couple who thought they could not conceive.  But as such stories go, the girl who, as always, grew into the most beautiful child under the sun, is whisked away to a dark forest by a wronged enchantress and locked away in a tower which had neither stairs nor door; only a window at the very top.   Whenever the…

enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me.”

Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty yards down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. After a year or two, it came to pass that the king's son rode through the forest and passed by the tower.

You can probably guess what happens from here.  Hearing the lovely singing emanating from the tower window, the Prince became enchanted.  He searched for a way up the tower, but found none.  Discouraged, he rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it.

Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her. “If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I too will try my fortune,” said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Immediately the hair fell down and the king's son climbed up.

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man, such as her eyes had never yet beheld, came to her. But the king's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, “he will love me more than the old Enchantress does.” And she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, “I will willingly go away with you, but I do not know how to get down.

“Bring with you a skein of silk every time that you come, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and you will take me on your horse.” They agreed that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. [1]

For our purposes, that’s enough of the story.  The subsequent chapters lead through all manner of terror, tragedy, exile and testing.  But rest assured, it all culminates as it is supposed to, in a blissful life lived happily ever after.  So what are we to make of poor, dear, melodic Rapunzel, and her tragic, complacent imprisonment?

          First of all, it might be useful to get acquainted with a man I might describe as the biblical Rapunzel.  We meet him in the story from John’s Gospel we heard read earlier, and while he doesn’t have long tresses of hair, he is a prisoner of sorts, crippled and lying helplessly by the pool of Bethzatha – or Bethsaida, or Bethesda, as other translations render it.  Parenthetically, it might be interesting to note that one of these variant pronunciations of that pool – Bethesda – gave its name to a city in Maryland, “and according to a brochure published by the National Institutes of Health, accounted for President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s selection of the site.” [2]  Bethesda, the healing place.  It is also the name of various churches, including a large Lutheran Church in Ames.  According to legend, every now and then – and unpredictably so – an angel of the Lord would stop by the pool for a swim, and whoever managed to get in first after the stirring of the water was made well from whatever disease that person had.  As you can imagine, poolside at Bethzatha, the healing place, was crowded. 

          Well, among those gathered was our Mr. Rapunzel who had been trying to make it into the water first for 38 years.  Jesus asked the obvious question:  “Do you want to be made well?”  Thirty-eight years, after all, is a long time to try.  Perhaps there was some ulterior motive for the man’s consistent and stupendous success at failure. 

          “Well of course I want to be well,” the man insists.  “It’s just that I’m helpless.  I’ve got no one to help me.  And more than that, everybody else is faster.  All these people with junior varsity afflictions – pimples and rashes and hiccups and the like – are faster and keep knocking people like me, people with real problems, out of the way.  It’s really not fair.  There ought to be a separate pool for people with really bad problems like me.” 

          Ah!  So there it is:  the problem is “out there.”  “It’s not fair.”  “I’m helpless.”  Perhaps so, but 38 years is a long time to pout.

          Pastoral counselor and Episcopal priest Jean Clift was once upon a time watching the PBS show “Mystery” and stumbled upon a comic realization and insight while watching the program’s opening credits.  “As the credits roll, a cartoon-animated woman whose ankles are tied waves her hands in the air and cries, ‘Ohhh! ‘Ohhh!’ waiting for someone to come untie her.

          ‘I watched that show for a long while before it occurred to me that the woman’s hands aren’t tied,’ Clift observed.  ‘She could, if she were so inclined, bend down and untie her own ankles.’”[3]

          And Rapunzel always had her hair.  It was the very same hair that both the Enchantress and Prince used to ladder themselves up to the tower window, and the very same hair that, once cut off and tied to a chair, was the means by which the Enchantress later entrapped the Prince.  The means to Rapunzel’s escape was always with her, but she was convinced that she was helpless, and resigned herself to a life of imprisonment, or later, invested all her hopes of rescue on the handsome prince.  It is, for both the paralytic and the pretty Rapunzel, a breath-taking lack of initiative.  Here are two people, drowning in helplessness, for whom the problem and the solution are both “out there.”

          Last week we spent some time getting reacquainted with the Little Red Hen, that diligent soul who mistakenly believed that she was responsible for everything – for playing every base on the diamond.  Here we have the Hen’s alter ego – one who can’t imagine how she could be responsible for anything. 

          Why had it never occurred to Rapunzel to cut off her own hair and manage her own escape?  Why had the man beside the pool contented himself over 38 years of waiting with no conceived alternative solution?  We do live in community, and it is important to draw from that community’s wealth of strength. 

“It’s important to be able to ask for help, but not Rapunzel’s way.  She chose to forego the contemplative experience of tapping her soul-strength, to bury her problem-solving potential and project it onto others.  Struggling with the difficulties of life, we may adopt the idea that we’re too weak, too dumb, too busy, or too incompetent to take care of ourselves and extricate ourselves from pain and problems.” [4]

          One of my touchstones in scripture – a passage as challenging for me as it is comforting; as emboldening as it is reassuring – is in Paul’s second letter to Timothy where the mentor reminds his protégé, “…rekindle the gift of God that is within you…; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:6-7).

          As the Little Red Hen needed to learn, we can’t do everything, but as Rapunzel needs to learn, we can do something.  We have gifts within us that we are called to use, not in a spirit of fear or timidity, but with a spirit of power, and love, and self-discipline.  Do we want to be healed – of our various imprisonments…

Ø     as individuals separated too often from the best of ourselves – our living practiced in isolation from our souls;

Ø     as employees trapped in corporate systems that suffocate rather than encourage life;

Ø     as neighbors isolated from the community that surrounds us;

Ø     as urban and suburban citizens implicated in and affected by bureaucratic decisions preferring some and neglecting others, but whose processes have turned to nudge us out?

Do we want to be healed?  We were not made for timidity.  The Spirit of God that fills our lungs and enlivens our wills calls us to something more.  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, rekindle the gift that is within you.  Instead of waiting, let down your hair, that, taking responsibility for your own circumstances and employing your own resources, as well as those gifts of others, you – and us – might, ourselves, climb down…

…and live.

 



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[2] Gerard Sloyan, Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, “John” (Atlanta:  John Knox Press, 1988) p. 78.

[3] As told by Sue Monk Kidd in When the Heart Waits, p. 63.

[4] Kidd, p. 63