Ring-A-Ring O Roses And Another Pandemic

Rev. Jerald Stinson	Interfaith World AIDS Day Vigil
December 1, 2004	(Las Vegas, Nevada)

Ring-A-Ring O’Roses And Another Pandemic

In 1347, Genoese trading ships put into the harbor of Messina, Sicily. The ships had dead and dying men at the oars. They had come from the Black Sea port of Caffa where Genoa maintained a trading post. The diseased sailors showed strange black swellings which oozed blood and were followed by spreading boils and black blotches on the skin. The sick suffered incredible pain and died quickly within days of the first symptoms. The disease was the bubonic plague.

Do you remember the verse: “Ring-a-ring o’roses, a pocket full of posies, a tishoo, a tishoo, we all fall down.” A little rhyme from childhood play – or is it?

In the 14^th century, bubonic plague, “the black death,” swept Europe and a quarter of the population was destroyed. People began to recite that verse. You see, a rosy rash was a symptom of the plague – “ring-a-ring of roses.” People would carry posies of herbs to protect them against that rash – “a pocketful of posies.” And sneezing was one of the final symptoms of the plague – “a tishoo, a tishoo, we all fall down” in death.

By 1350, the black death had passed through most of Europe – in some places 20% of the population was destroyed, in other places up to 90% or even total elimination. It is said that perhaps 200,000 market towns and villages were completely depopulated. No one knows for sure how many people died – maybe 24 million. Throughout Europe, bodies were dumped into rivers, buried in pits, piled layer upon layer. This 14th century plague was a medical epidemic beyond anything previously experienced.

Now we gather here tonight because there is another plague in our midst today. AIDS is the pandemic medical crisis of our era. Acquired Immune Deficiency is caused by the human immunodeficiency virus or HIV, and was first diagnosed in the United States in 1981.

At the end of last year, there were 38 million people infected with the virus; 2 million of them children under age 15. Approximately 2/3 of these people live in sub-Saharan Africa; and another 20% live in Asia and the Pacific. Right now, worldwide, women account for nearly half of all people living with HIV/AIDS.

Five million new HIV infections occurred worldwide last year – 14,000 new infections each day; over half are young people between ages 15-24. More than 20 million people have died from the virus since it was discovered in 1981. Its deaths will soon pass the bubonic plague.

Here in the United States, one million people live with the HIV virus, and a quarter of them are unaware they have it. Half new infections in America are in young people under age 25. Of the new infections, half of the men who are infected are black, 30% are white and 20% are Latino. Of the new infections among women, 64% are black, 18% white and 18% Latina. Increasingly this disease strikes people of color.

Now it is true that more Americans are “living with HIV/AIDS today” rather than dying from it. The new treatments, protease inhibitors and medicine cocktails, are keeping people alive and active. But those medicines cost at least $15,000 per patient per year – and are simply not available to people in developing nations where the disease runs rampant. And, there is always the possibility this virus with thousands of different strains and mutations, will develop a resistance to the current wonder drugs. Things are better here, right now, but the future is always uncertain for those with HIV/AIDS.

Now in the medieval plague, people struggled to understand why there was such sickness, so much death. The knowledge of science and medicine was limited in the Middle Ages; people didn’t know the plague was spread by rats and fleas. And the tendency in that era was to turn to theology – to see the plague as an act of God; obviously God was angry with humanity and the plague was an expression of that wrath.

Spanish clergy attributed the outbreak of the plague to the opera; English bishops said God was mad about the theater. Long-pointed shoes were seen by some as the source of God’s fury. But no matter what specific cause folks listed, behind it was the notion that such a sweeping plague must be the result of divine punishment. In 1348, the pope called it the “pestilence with which God is afflicting people.”

Now we know more about medicine today, but still people see AIDS as an expression of God’s wrath. Several years ago, a study at Chicago Theological Seminary found 30% of ministers from various Christian denominations felt those suffering from AIDS were “obviously being punished by God” for their for their homosexuality or drug addiction. And thus, they said, the problem of AIDS was in God’s hands and nothing could be done about it.

Charles Stanley, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention and a founder of the Moral Majority, said, “God created the AIDS epidemic to indicate his displeasure over America’s acceptance of the homosexual lifestyle.” Now if that is true, why are so many children dying in Africa? Jerry Falwell claimed AIDS is God’s divine retribution and Pat Buchanan says AIDS is God’s punishment for deviant behavior.

Another thing: In the medieval plague, although God’s wrath was seen as the underlying cause, people wanted a scapegoat onto whom some of the blame could be shifted. In Christian Europe, the Jews became that scapegoat. Centuries of Christian anti-Semitism were behind accusations which led to horrendous actions. In Savoy, eleven Jews were burned alive at the stake. In Basle, several hundred Jews were burned to death in a wooden house constructed for that purpose. In Strasburg, 2,000 Jews were burned at rows of stakes in the burial ground. 6,000 Jews were killed at Mainz; 3,000 at Erfurt. All Nuremberg’s Jews were murdered; in Burgundy 50,000 Jews were massacred. Scapegoats.

And that’s what the gay community has become with the AIDS epidemic, a scapegoat. All gay people are often blamed for the AIDS crisis. Just as centuries of anti-Semitism fed hatred during the Middle Ages, so vitriolic condemnations from Christian pulpits of gay and lesbian persons have fed today’s homophobia. A USA Today poll a few years ago showed over 35% of Americans wouldn’t have lunch with a known gay man out of fear of getting AIDS. Fred Phelps and members of his Kansas church still travel around the country, protesting not only Pride Parades, but also funerals of persons with AIDS. This so-called Christian pastor stands outside funerals waving a hate-filled sign reading, “God sends AIDS to kill fags.”

Harvard psychiatrist Robert Coles wrote about a man I will call John. A devout church-going computer programmer, John lost his job. Filled with bitterness; he was angry at “druggies and deviates.” John said, “AIDS hits people who are doing the wrong thing. They’re homosexuals; they’re shooting up drugs. God is watching over and judging them. That’s the religious truth. People who are getting AIDS are getting sick after they’ve done something wrong.”

Now when Coles told some of his liberal Harvard colleagues about John, they attributed this to Christian fundamentalism. But John wasn’t a fundamentalist. He was a well-educated middle class man with roots in mainline religion. John told Coles, “AIDS isn’t just a disease – it’s something that’s hitting people that have gotten themselves in a lot of trouble.” For John and millions of Americans, AIDS is the result of sin.

A third thing about the two plagues – in both cases, those with the disease are cast aside as outcasts, shunned and ostracized. Patients with bubonic plague were forsaken even by their families. Neighbors wouldn’t help one who was sick. People would lay forsaken in their dwelling. Children with the disease would call for their parents, but the parents wouldn’t come. Husbands would call for their wives, wives for their husbands – but no one would answer. The ill were isolated until they died.

And in many ways that is what we do with people with AIDS. We abandon them. It is better today than several years ago, but many people still don’t want to be around those with AIDS. I read of a company that wouldn’t accept cash from a man with AIDS unless some other person handled it first. Or a young man who told his parents he had AIDS and felt they were quite accepting until he sat at the dinner table and saw that he alone had plastic silverware and a paper plate. Cast out. Florida bus drivers for a time wore latex gloves out of fear of touching a transfer slip handled by someone with AIDS.

I had a young military officer in my last congregation who tested positive for the virus. He told his wife and me – and that’s it. He wouldn’t tell his parents or his closest friends. He faced HIV alone because he feared becoming an outcast if people knew.

Richard had AIDS and his family, like many families, deserted him. No one visited. There were no flowers when he was in the hospital. But Richard tried to stay in touch, especially with his twin sister. She was getting married. He saved money for the plane ticket and got his suit tailored since he had lost so much weight. But when he arrived, his sister told him not to tell her fiancé that he was gay and especially not to tell anyone that he had AIDS. Richard was hurt and asked, “What do you think I planned to do; wear a sandwich board with “I am queer” on one side and “I have AIDS” on the other? That night was terrible; no one would hug him; if he coughed, people moved away. Richard flew home the next morning without attending the wedding.

Before he died, he asked his partner Charles to call his sister and have her come out; but she wouldn’t. Charles called again after Richard’s death to say Richard wanted his ashes buried next to his mother. But the family refused. Rejected in both life and death!

And it’s worse in Africa. I lived for four years in Botswana. I love the country and its people. Botswana now has the highest rate of HIV infection in the world. 40% of its adult population test positive. Average life expectancy was over 65 when I was there; now it is 32 years. I assume virtually everyone I knew, is now dead.

In Botswana, AIDS is considered a disease carried by prostitutes, so it carries tremendous stigmas. People won’t admit they are sick until they are near death, for fear of the stigmas that will be attached to them. People won’t seek help, they won’t admit they have the disease.

In Togo, an international organization provided money to care for orphans left behind by parents dying of AIDS. But in the villages they couldn’t find any such orphans. No one would admit having a parent with AIDS. Globally, the stigmas and stereotypes are devastating.

And so where was the religious community in the bubonic plague; and where is it today? Well, in medieval Europe, the Jewish community was struggling just to survive, devastated by both the disease and anti-Semitic violence. The Christian church (and that’s the religious community I know best) was in two places: some church leaders responded to the crisis with compassion and love, staying and dying amidst their people. In Marseilles, the Jesuits distinguished themselves by putting their lives at the service of those most in need. In Paris, nuns at a municipal hospital attended the dying with incredible compassion and courage.

But for the most part, the clergy fled in fear. The church was wealthy after the plague because many people, afraid they would die in a state of sin, bequeathed their estates to the church. But the church also lost the respect and love of many people.

Now looking at religious communities and the AIDS epidemic, we see the same thing – instances when religious folk have been compassionate and accepting, but other occasions when the religious community has been silent, cold, distant, judgmental.

Now obviously I am speaking tonight to those who care, many of you are part of a faith community that does care about those who suffer from this infection. There is ample precedent for that kind of caring in all the world’s living faiths. The Buddha’s notion of compassion and the oneness of all is central to Buddhism. In Islam, the call to give alms to those in need is a physical symbol of compassion toward those who are hurting. In Judaism, the ancient law codes call for special concern for orphans, widows and strangers – people in need. Today that list would surely include those with HIV/AIDS.

And Christianity is shaped by a response to Jesus who touched the outcasts of his day, lived with them, loved them. Jesus rejected no one.

Now there are ample examples of faith communities doing the right thing; making a difference in people’s lives. If Richard’s family rejected him, Andrew’s didn’t. Andrew grew up in a small UCC congregation. His mother, who cared for him during his last two years of life, said, “My local church was there when I needed them. Andy came to church with me on several occasions and felt very comfortable there. The cards and notes from church members showed what a caring and loving church this is.”

Or Jim Reed, a gay man with AIDS, sings in the choir at New York’s Riverside Church. He wrote, “When I think of family, I think less of my parents and more of my friends and my church. They know me best and understand my being gay. My parents don’t support me for whom I am. The church counteracts their opinion. The church provides an environment of support, understanding and true affection.”

So some religious communities speak with voices of judgment and condemnation while others live out the radically inclusive love of God and touch wounded people with mercy and compassion.

The story of the two plagues makes it clear there is no middle ground in a plague – you are either on the side of the hurting and wounded, or you’re not. You either reach out to the wounded or you run away. Religious communities cannot mouth platitudes about love unless they are willing to put the very lives of their members where love requires.

In conclusion, let me share three brief quotations. First, Poet Joanetta Hendel, who has AIDS, wrote:

Don’t tell me that you understand, don’t tell me that you know.

Don’t tell me that I will survive, how I will surely grow.

Don’t tell me this is just a test, that I am truly blessed,

That I am chosen for this task, apart from all the rest.

Don’t come at me with answers, that can only come from me,

Don’t tell me how my grief will pass, that I will soon be free.

Don’t stand in pious judgment of the bonds I must untie,

Don’t tell me how to suffer, and don’t tell me how to cry.

My life is filled with selfishness, my pain is all I see,

But I need you, I need your love, unconditionally.

Accept me in my ups and downs, I need someone to share,

Just hold my hand and let me cry, and say, “My friend, I care.”

Now – isn’t that what faith communities should be about, holding the hand of the wounded, saying we care.

Or listen to Margaret Brazell who also has AIDS:

You know me. I’ve been a member of our congregation for years. I’ve taught Sunday School. I’ve been in the Church Council. When work was needed, I was there. Now there is virtually no chance of your contracting the virus through casual contact with me: hugging, touching, using the same dishes. But will you treat me differently anyway? Will you cringe if I admire your baby? Will I take my casserole home untouched from potluck suppers? What will you do? I crave your love and support. I need the collective arms of my congregation around me. I need you to encourage my faith and help me have the courage to face the future. I need you to laugh with me, share your faith with me, and help me lead a normal life. But I wonder what you will do.

What about us – will we extend the collective arms of our congregations around those with HIV? Will we extend our arms around all those cast out in our society? Can we extend our collective arms around all in pain?

Finally, these words from Anne Broyles about her friend Susan who died of AIDS:

Her humor masked the depths of pain beneath the laughter. An intricate web of scars on one wrist told the story of moments when hope failed. Molested at age 5, abused for years, drugs provided an adolescent escape. Years of hearing ‘you deserved it’ took their toil until...

Susan found love and acceptance in the man she married. Pregnant, she rejoiced at life’s newness until...

The baby was born, addicted and HIV⁺. The pregnancy unleashed the HIV within her. When at seven months her daughter died, no one needed to assign her blame. Despair became the mode of her being, AIDS the ever-present nightmare. ‘I am dirt. Who could love me?’ she once again chanted deep within until...

A group of religious folk took Susan in, accepted her without judgment, told her about a love so strong death no longer held such terror. Their arms opened to her and years of loneliness and hurt began to heal. AIDS ravished Susan’s body until its earthly end. But that strong love carried her safely and gently into the light.”

Where will our faith communities be? Where will each of us, as individuals, be? Can we extend our arms around the whole of a suffering world amidst a frightening and devastating pandemic? Will we walk our talk? It’s up to us.