Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | March 3, 2024

John 2:13-22

Around eight years ago, my wife Lindsay began applying for work in the United States. I was going to retire when I reached the age of 65, and she being seven years younger than me would take over as primary bread winner. Lindsay was ordained as a Presbyterian minister, what we now call a “Teaching Elder” in 1991. She has always been good at ministry. She has served in a variety of roles; she has a list of publications to her name and she earned a Doctor of Ministry degree through Cambridge University.

We planned on moving to Minnesota, so that narrowed the job field somewhat. Seven years ago, there were many churches looking for a pastor or associate pastor. She sent in her applications. There were positions in non-profit organizations that she applied for. Surely something would turn up. Some entities she applied to responded with an interview request. Some responded with a thanks but no thanks. Some responded not at all.

There is a time in life when we work and gain experience and wisdom; we add to our qualifications. Some roles we realize we’re not ready for just yet, but given time and hard work, maybe we’ll get there. What we noticed about the jobs Lindsay applied for and didn’t get was, they all hired someone younger. Okay, that’s an organization’s right to hire whomever it wishes. When a hiring committee looks at the choice between a 57-year-old candidate and one who is under 35, they are drawn to the idea of youth and vitality.

Churches, for all of our talk about diversity, inclusion, justice and evangelism, when we see a youngish pastor we think, “This one will bring in the young families.” Not that old one who’s been around the block a few times. That’s the reality.

In time though, Lindsay landed the perfect job for her. In house chaplain at Ecumen Lakeshore in Duluth, Minnesota. The pay was decent, the benefits were good, and Duluth is a lovely place to live. Lindsay worked with independent living residents, assisted living, rehabilitation services, memory care; she led worship services, bible studies, book groups, grief groups and different support groups.

She was doing so well with the organization that when Ecumen started a hospice company, I was willing to sign on as a chaplain to help them get started in the Duluth area. We had a solid team of professionals, each one well suited for their role. I did that work for a year during the height of the pandemic.

I quit because I was fed up with it. I don’t know how other hospice companies work, because I’ve only worked for one. As chaplain there were a number of patients I visited on a regular basis. Some of them were local and some required travel to the iron range or down to Sandstone and Hinkley.

When you think of hospice care, you naturally think of people at the end of life. Hospice provides extra care and attention. It allows for death with dignity. But it’s also a business and a very competitive business at that. As a hospice chaplain, I was required to visit each patient on my list, at least twice a month and each visit needed to last a minimum of thirty minutes.

For some people that was a simple task. For others, it was complicated. The thirty minute minimum visit was mandated by Medicare that covers most hospice services. Some of my patients were dealing with end stage diseases or profound dementia and they were not able to communicate. Even if someone was in a coma, I had to spend at least 30 minutes with them. It was challenging to figure out how to do that in a meaningful way. But for many people, I realized I was not there for them; I was there simply to tick a box so that the company could get paid.

For each half hour that I was with someone, I probably spent another two hours doing paperwork, charting, zoom meetings, general health and safety training and other things to tick the boxes so that the company could get paid.

One day I went to see a newly enrolled patient at a facility Moose Lake. For an initial interview I needed to fill out an extensive “spiritual assessment.” I was met at the door of the patient’s room by her daughter and son-in-law. I introduced myself and I could see that they were anxious about the whole process. They asked that when I introduced myself to their mother, that I not say I was from hospice; that I should tell her I was ‘just a chaplain.’

I suggested that if she was not ready to engage with the idea of hospice just yet, that I would come back when she was ready. My role was as hospice chaplain and there was really no getting around that. No problem, they were fine with that. The real issue was not with the mother, but with the daughter who was having a tough time facing the reality of it. That sort of thing is all part of the normal response.

When I called my supervisor and explained why the spiritual assessment was not done, she told me to just go ahead and introduce myself as a chaplain and don’t mention hospice. I said, “But that’s dishonest.” I handed in my resignation. I made one last round of visits to all my patients, ticked all of the boxes and as I prepared to hand in my keys, I had to block my supervisor from contacting me because she was begging me to do one last round of visits, just to tick the boxes so that they could get paid, again. I don’t know how other companies operated, but that was my experience with Ecumen.

What I’ve said here is the milder version, fit for publication you might say. Which brings us back to Lindsay; she still worked for them. That was all well and good, she was doing different work in different areas. She came home from work last year at the end of February and told me that she received notice that her hours were reduced, and she no longer had benefits. Her position had changed from “Chaplain” to “spiritual counselor,” and her primary duties would now be focused on hospice.

Among her reactions was anger. I was angry too. Much of what I read about anger says it’s not a good thing. I beg to differ. Anger is a season of grief, a place we travel through in journey of grief, a phase and a stage. It comes and goes. Sometimes it stays and sometimes we get through it and get over it.

Think of when you have been angry. There’s that flash of anger if someone cuts you off in traffic; you get over it and it’s done. But some anger is deep seated; some anger is part of grief; some anger sustains the fight for the just cause. If you are angry, you don’t want anyone telling you that you shouldn’t be, that it’s not nice to be or that there’s something wrong with you because you get angry.

The last thing you want to hear when your grief has brought you to the season of anger is, “Oh you shouldn’t feel that way.”

And if someone dares to say, “I know how you feel” let it be because they’ve been where you are and they really do know; rather than because they don’t know what else to say.

Keep in mind, that hostility, violence, abuse, and revenge are not the same as anger. But anger tamped down and covered up, denied and ignored may very well explode into those things.

Let it wash over you. Claim it; name it. And get angry at God if you need to. God is big enough to bear it. If you are angry then start an argument with God. Yell, scream and shake your fist.

When anger is done it’s done. It’s not like baking a cake that you set the timer on. It will be done when it has done. Let it run its course.

It’s quite alright to say, “Don’t judge my anger; just listen to me.”

The story is told that Jesus became angry when he saw that commerce had taken over the Temple courtyards. He was really mad. But I don’t think it bothered Jesus that people were trying to make a few shekels. I don’t think it bothered Jesus that people were selling stuff in a sacred space. If that’s all it was, he might have said it’s not ideal, but people have to make a living.

The problem wasn’t that people were buying and selling stuff in the Temple. The real problem that upset Jesus was that the common folk were being taken advantage of. They were being held financially hostage to a corrupt system.

The authorities at the Temple said that the one true way to worship God was to follow their rules and make the correct sacrifices. In order to do that, people had to purchase their doves, or whatever they used, from the Temple approved vendors at an inflated price.

Folks were not allowed to bring their own sacrifices. And in order to purchase the approved sacrifice, at the set price, the proper currency had to be used. The money changers were there to make sure folks had the right currency. The exchange rate was a gouge. And of course, at every point of this buying and selling process, the authorities who ran the Temple got a cut of the action.

2023 was a tough year in some ways. Lindsay could have gone along to get along and buried her ethics and integrity for the sake of a paycheck, but that’s not how she chooses to follow Jesus. She is now the Stated Supply Pastor for Pioneer Parish in Wisconsin, doing what she loves.

Following Jesus has no price tag attached to it. The cost he put on it was, “Pick up your cross and follow me.” That has no fixed monetary value. Amen.