Fifth Sunday of Easter
Christina Cernansky
I speak to you in the name of Source, Word, God, and mother of us all.
It was a cold, wintry night, and the mother of a teenage son was worried because he hadn’t checked in a while. She called his cell phone and the dorm room TA. Hours turned into days, and then the phone rang. It was the county jail letting her know that her son had gone on a spree, leaving a path of destruction. The police officer read out a long list of misdemeanors and felonies to her.
Months passed, and this mother tried to get answers, tried talking to her son, but he had no rights because he was considered a violent felon who was awaiting a court date. He had not calmed down from whatever might be happening, and the days passed. She was embarrassed to tell anyone at her place of work, her church….her son was in jail for doing things that she had no idea he was capable of doing.
And then, on a spring day, the phone rang. Her son had finally seen a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. She had no idea what that was or what was happening. He was placed on medication, became lucid, and was deemed safe to come out of solitary confinement. This mother was able to speak with her son for the first time in months. He had no idea what had happened. He remembered leaving school, and that was the last memory.
Why am I talking to you today about this family? Because these families are our neighbors. In today’s Gospel, we hear the infamous “New Commandments speech. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, we know what this is all about, right? Love God, love our neighbor. We get it already….or do we? For the sake of this sermon, I aggregated and mixed up some of the storylines of the families I have worked with, but I know many more that I could share.
May is mental health awareness month, and I wanted to share stories that have been near and dear to my heart. The story is one of hundreds of stories that impact our community. How can we, as All Saints, love our neighbors?
A couple of weeks ago, I had the honor of hearing Bishop Rowe speak to a group of Lutheran and Episcopal Chaplains. He said that we don’t need to make our tent bigger; we need to ensure the tent’s center is marginalized, as Jesus taught us. The marginalized were at the center of Jesus’ ministry. Think about that, the most marginalized of society, those on the edge of society, those on the fringe. Jesus taught us to center ourselves, our love, on those on the outskirts of society. How does that translate to the mental health needs of the community?
Mental health is near and dear to my heart. August will be my tenth anniversary of living in Idaho. When I arrived, I was struggling with my own mental health. My best friend had died by suicide a year prior, and I was searching for my meaning in life. It was then, within my first two months living in Idaho, that I was introduced to an organization called NAMI as well as the Episcopal Church. Follow me here on a journey. NAMI stands for National Alliance for Mental Illness. They provide support, education, and advocate for the mental health needs of those with a diagnosis and their loved ones who support them.
Along with my volunteering with NAMI, I started attending St. Thomas’ in Sun Valley, their priest at the time, like Fr. Joseph, had clinical training in mental health. Combined with the Holy Spirit, I started rebuilding my relationship with God, Learning about mental wellness, and my calling to ministry. God willing, I live in the sunlight of the spirit, not in the darkness of stigma, and I am now over 9 years sober.
My friend’s story and the families of NAMI’s stories are not unique. One in five adults and one in four children will be faced with a mental health diagnosis. Complete transparency: I sit on the board of NAMI Idaho. We have a saying: whether you like it or not, or want to admit it or not, you will be faced with a mental health challenge in your lifetime.
One common lament that I hear from families is that they feel so alone & isolated; there is a stigma associated with these incidents, with these diagnosis. A casserole is delivered when your loved one is in the hospital or getting treatment for a medical ailment. They don’t receive the same treatment if their loved one is in a mental health hold or in jail. I’m not downplaying our neighbors who go through the trials and tribulations of cancer diagnosis, treatments, complicated surgeries, or broken bones. We are asked to show up for our neighbors and we are really good at reaching out during those times, but again…to reiterate Bishop Rowe’s point, how are we focusing on the most marginalized?
How can we love those neighbors who might need support? What does loving your neighbor mean when someone is dripping with melancholy, as they described Abraham Lincoln, or a so-called bipolar episode of Winston Churchill? We know some of the Saints also struggled with mental health and that didn’t block their faith.
Again, how can we show our love and compassion to someone in a mental health crisis, such as what we saw with Britney Spears?
How do we show up when we want to make small talk about public incidents, or when we forget to pray for those struggling during a mental health crisis? How can we support those who are on the fringe, on the edges of society?
All Saints has been deep in this work for over 20 years with the Friendship Clinic. It has also opened its doors to NAMI Idaho and now rents space and hosts support groups. There are brochures in the common area that encourage you to read up on the free services they provide to the community. And you have opened your doors to 12-step recovery groups. That’s huge, amazing. Think of the ripple effect of those ministries in the Treasure Valley!
I am going to kindly ask us to explore a little deeper. We are reminded that we are made in the image of God. We are asked to love our neighbors because we are all God’s children. Jesus set us free because he laid down his life for us to follow and lead in his way of love. He liberated us to set our focus on our ministry to those most marginalized. We need not fear, as this is what we are asked to do as Christians: step into that tent, raise it up, and shine our light so bright that others living in the shadows of despair will be able to “see” the way of love. How can we show radical hospitality, allow space for a wave of love over the most vulnerable, not just for Mental Health Awareness month, but every day, as Jesus commanded us to do at that last supper?