October 18 Proper 24
Bad news hides in the backs of our minds and we are so very good at replacing it with better, happier thoughts. That’s how it was with James and John when Jesus brought up Jerusalem and his impending crucifixion for the third time. They wanted to by-pass Jerusalem and go straight to heaven. To the new summer counselors at Camp Mitchell, the dread news at staff training is, Yes, there will be Robert R. Brown Camps this summer as always.
Robert R. Brown Camps are a special ministry of the Episcopal Church for adults who are physically and mentally challenged. These campers function pretty much on a child’s level but they are saddled with not very well-functioning adult bodies,
many of them are middle-aged.
Daniel was one of these new counselors my first year as Summer Camp Director several years ago. I noticed his discomfort as we talked about the challenges RRB campers present to counselors who are on the front line with them. Time in the cabin, which is getting up and ready for the day, and getting settled for the night, is the ultimate test.
For these campers, daytime is like having Christmas every day. They love it and look forward to it from one year to the next, but cabin time is difficult, to put it mildly. Managing themselves in unfamiliar spaces without their usual care givers and sleeping with a room full of strangers is tough for them.
Experienced counselors have stories to tell about RRB camp, and those stories are what the newbies hear. Lost on the first timers, is the awe of having lived to tell the tale and now claiming it was the best experience the veterans had ever had.
Daniel was a first timer. He had all the attributes of a good counselor, especially his winning smile and welcoming way, that attract campers, especially young teenage girls. They were still a bit awkward with boys their own age, but Daniel was easy to be with. His fears of Robert R. Brown Camp three weeks away melted into the background as the girls crowded around him during every break. He did not hear it gladly or even understand why when I told him he needed to back off and direct them to the kids their age, but he did as I asked.
One week after the next, camp was going great, and before we knew it Robert R. Brown campers were pouring into the registration building. No more denying it — the ordeal was about to begin. These campers have all sorts of conditions that make life difficult for them and for the camp staff. Low IQs cause confusion.
Wheelchairs are a huge challenge on the mountain. Some campers can’t talk plainly — their tongue muscles are paralyzed. You can’t understand what they’re saying and they drool when they eat. The you detest your own disgust. The challenges are emotional as well as physical.
A young man with Down’s Syndrome was one of the most challenging. Daniel was his favorite counselor. This young man was one of the sweetest, most cooperative guys you ever hope to meet —– as long as he got his way, but if he didn’t get his way he was the most pouty and stubborn person you can imagine.
With every refusal or disappointment (like when Daniel said he would be someone’s else’s partner this time), he walked off and watched from a distance, refusing to participate. It just about killed him to miss the fun, but he couldn’t think his way through taking turns and Daniel couldn’t convince him. He had to suffer through it for a time and then he finally came around, happier than ever to be at Camp Mitchell.
I can’t tell you how many tears of exhaustion I wiped from counselors’ cheeks,
especially the most conscientious ones. Sarah was responsible for three women in wheelchairs and one woman who screamed every time something upset her
(which was often!). At pre-registration, two of the women hadn’t said they had wheelchairs for fear they wouldn’t get to come to camp so all three were randomly
assigned to the same cabin. One of them didn’t want to get up in the morning and
another didn’t want to go to bed at night.
When we gathered for prayers and debriefing one evening after the campers finally got to sleep, Daniel told a shower story er the campers finally got to sleep. I never imagined this, Daniel said. “I’m standing outside the shower stall of a fifty-year-old man – older than my father – saying, Hand me your washcloth and I’ll put soap on it. OK, now wash yourself. OK, I’ll help you shampoo your hair. Yes, it really needs it. Close your eyes and lean your head on my arm. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be finished. Then you can climb into your bed.
Why, then, if you ask most any counselor, will they tell you, “Robert R. Brown was the best experience I’ve ever had in my whole life,”It was by far the most difficult thing many of them had ever done, sometimes the most embarrassing, often the most exasperating, but by the end of the week, they knew they had participated in holy work.
Unlike Job’s friends, and even Job for a time, they weren’t looking for the whys of suffering. They wanted to know things like How do you comfort someone who is confused or scared? How can Archie get extra periods in arts and crafts to learn more ways to express his artistic talent. How can people in wheelchairs play this game or do that activity?
They also wanted to know Is it all right to get angry as long as I don’t take it out on someone else? Will God really answer our prayers for help?
They were thoughtful enough to ask Why do people have to suffering? It was more important to them to know how to respond. They didn’t have the time or energy to ask theological questions during camp, and by the time camp was over, they knew, like Job knew, that God had been with them. They were able. That was all that mattered.
Their experiences had changed them. They never would have chosen a single one of those transformative moments, and now they wouldn’t trade anything for having had them. To this day they share memories, photos, and their stories of the horrors and the blessings of Robert R. Brown camp, just as I am right now. We all were changed. Instead of asking why, we ask Help me, God.
When we are baptized, we, or our parents and godparents, make some outrageous promises about participating in the baptismal life as a member of the Christian community. For example, one of these promises is to respect the dignity of every human being, having no idea whose paths we will cross.
They may be the Robert R. Brown campers who scream or pout or won’t get up in the morning or worse, won’t go to bed when we are exhausted. Some people we encounter may be liars, cheats, or scoundrels, or they may be people who try our patience with whining, self-pity, helplessness, or B.O. and dirty hair.
But there’s one sure thing, our baptismal promise goes far beyond the people we already like, already love, and already respect. The baptismal life is a life in which, as Scott said last week, “we are bound together”. Because we are bound together we are invited to choose some strange companions we might never have had the good sense to choose on our own, inclined as we are to stick with people like ourselves. It’s an amazing, always changing life, sometimes it’s challenging, sometimes reassuring and sometimes we are surprised by joy, as C.S. Lewis describes one of the saddest times of his life.[2]
Living faithfully is often about taking a risk or stepping up to the plate in this baseball season. As we all know from sports or business or school, these are the times we might learn the most, be rewarded unexpectedly, or find a friend we never knew we could count on.
Most sane people would gladly skip Jerusalem, if that were possible. Since it’s not, we go, with God’s help. As we put one foot in front of the other, we find that
the baptismal life, suffering and joy, is one in which we become more richly ourselves in Christian community than we ever could have become by ourselves. Amen.