April Alford-Harkey, M.Div. Sermon
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April Alford-Harkey, M.Div.
Sermon for Easter 2B, April 12, 2015
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
For the disciples seeing and touch lead to believing.
We are told in John’s Gospel that Thomas was not present when Jesus first appeared to the disciples, in The Upper Room. When Thomas arrives, the disciples tell him that they have seen the Lord, but Thomas is not convinced. He states he won’t believe unless he sees Jesus for himself and touches Jesus’ wounds. Thomas wanted proof and validation that the human man he knew as friend and teacher had actually come back.
Through the ages, Thomas has gotten a bad reputation for doubting and his need for physical confirmation of the resurrected Christ. But I think that’s not fair.
It shouldn’t have surprised the disciples that Thomas requested more proof. After all, these are the same disciples who did not believe Mary Magdalene when she told them the tomb was empty. It wasn’t until Jesus showed the disciples his hands and his side that we are told those other disciples “rejoiced”.
It makes sense that Thomas and the disciples needed to see and touch Jesus. We humans use touch, taste, smell, sight and hearing to make sense of the world around us. Our senses help us perceive and process what is happening. We depend on our senses and the knowledge they provide to us.
That is nowhere more evident than in my work as a chaplain to special needs adults, children, and their staff and caregivers. I have seen that… love is made real to people through their senses---especially touch. I have learned that a pat on the back, eye contact, and a touch of a hand can convey love.
After three years on my job, I realized that I wanted to expand my ministry. I needed a way to reach the participants who perceive the world differently than the rest of us. The ones who can’t communicate clearly with language, the ones whose bodies don’t function like the rest of us, who can’t touch and be touched as easily as others.
I have long understood the mystical relationship that occurs between animals and humans. I often say that my cat, Memphis, got me through the roughest parts of seminary and of my chaplain residency when I was on my own down in Atlanta.
I first learned about ministry dogs when I ran into a priest with a dog at a funeral. I was curious about why a priest would have a dog, so I did a little research and learned about ministry dogs.
I realized that a ministry dog would allow me to connect to non-verbal participants, those on the autism spectrum, and others who have a different way of perceiving and communicating with the world. I knew that a ministry dog would be able to provide special needs participants with an unconditional loving presence, and a much needed opportunity to experience loving touch.
And so I applied to NEADS (National Education for Assistance Dog Services) for a ministry dog. In my application, I said, “We all know the mystical relationship that often occurs between animals and humans. A ministry dog will allow me to connect to non-verbal participants, those on the autism spectrum and others who have a difficult time communicating with the world. The ministry dog will also provide special needs participants with an unconditionally loving presence, and an often much needed opportunity to experience loving touch.”
When I got the call that NEADS had accepted my application and wanted me to come for an interview I was ecstatic. I drove to Princeton, Massachusetts for a two-hour interview where the "matchmaker" from NEADS asked me about my ministry, the layouts of the buildings where I worked, my home, my spouse, and my other pets. I also met with financial specialist who asked me how I would raise the $9,500 contribution to NEADS to help offset the $25,000 it costs to train a service dog. I said I wasn’t sure, but that I knew that if they found me a dog, I would find a way. They told me they would let me know when they had a suitable dog, and that it could take as long as a year and a half to find one.
But two weeks later I got a call from NEADS saying they had a dog for me. Marie and I were shocked and excited. We started looking at dog beds and bowls and blankets – you would have thought we were having a child. Over the next few weeks we learned that my dog’s name was Sandy, and that I would go to the NEADS facility to be trained with her during Holy Week.
I arrived at NEADS on the evening of Palm Sunday. The first time I met Sandy, I knew she had a powerful ministry. She didn’t know me but was kind and loving. Throughout our training week, Sandy worked hard for me and gave her best.
One of the most important parts of the week was the opportunity to meet the man who had trained Sandy. You may have heard that sometimes people in prison train service dogs, and NEADS uses that model. I was touched to meet the person who was strong enough to let go of a dog he raised for twenty months.
In order to meet Hector, I had to go to a medium security prison in Massachusetts. I had no trepidation about going to the prison. I knew if the prison was the place Sandy was trained that there must be a lot of love there.
When I entered the meeting room there were twelve men sitting in a semi- circle, each with a dog by his feet. Hector, Sandy’s trainer, didn’t have his new dog with him, so Sandy situated herself between the two of us and laid down. Her head ended up on Hector’s feet, and her butt on mine.
The men were there with their dogs to hear about the work Sandy would be doing out in the world. Each man introduced himself, his dogs and described the type of service dog they were training. I fought back tears when I told the men the type of ministry Sandy would be doing: that she would be working at The Feroleto Children’s Development Center twice a week and how she would see approximately a hundred severely disabled children on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and how she would be working at Changing Images, an adult special needs program, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We were all weepy knowing that Sandy would be out in the world touching so many lives.
Several men told me that training the dogs gave them a sense of accomplishment and was also a way to give back to the world. The men talked about how people always thank them when they are actually the ones who are grateful. They told me that the dogs lift their spirits and give them something to focus on.
Hector’s eyes smiled when he talked about and the type of dog Sandy is. He told me that Sandy is a princess. She sits with her paws crossed and her favorite fruits are bananas and apples. All the men agreed that Sandy is a silly dog and when she is happy you can see her smile. I left the prison humbled by my meeting with Hector and the other men. I am proud that Sandy has a group of men praying and cheering her on.
We have only been together for a week and a day. I have already seen how important it is for people to be able to touch this loving, gentle creature. Sandy breaks down barriers of disability, class, social standing, race and gender. She knows no condition or people who aren’t worthy of her attention and love.
When I took Sandy to work the supervisor of the Feroleto Center Children’s Center told me about a teenager who I’ll call Nick, who had recently been taken out of his home and placed in our children’s residential house. When he lived at home, Nick had a dog that slept next to him every night. So the supervisor asked if Sandy and I could arrange to visit Nick in his class room.
I went into Nick’s classroom and introduced Sandy to him. Nick looked at Sandy out of the corner of his eye. After five minutes Sandy and I walked across the room to sit on a mat. We were interacting with another student while she stretched.
Nick came across the room and sat at the edge of the mat. I moved Sandy closer to him. Nick sat perfectly still next to Sandy. What you need to know about Nick is that he is an extremely active young man. He is never still even when he sits down. The classroom teacher told me she had never seen Nick sit as still as he did with Sandy.
He reached out hesitantly and put his hand on Sandy, then quickly pulled it back. Then he reached out again, put his hand on her side and left it there. It was so moving to see him with her.
Two days later Sandy and I went back to visit Nick and Nick grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the chair next to him. Until I brought Sandy to the classroom, Nick had never interacted with me or given me eye contact. For Nick, I didn’t exist as a chaplain until I had Sandy as a part of my ministry.
Just like Nick, Thomas and the disciples needed a physical experience. They needed to touch Jesus to understand his loving presence among them after the resurrection. For the people I work with, Sandy provides a similar presence – they can touch her, and know the power of unconditional love.