Wissahickon Wit and Wisdom on July 4 Parade

This blog is from Graham Robinson—pastor of , visit Wisspresby.org.

July 2012

Dear Dad,

182 years ago, Samuel Lawson, an innovative preacher and Sunday school teacher, started something that continues today. 

In 1830 he began a parade – a July 4th parade –  - a parade that gives thanks for the United States – a parade to demonstrate gratitude for our freedoms – particularly our religious freedom – it’s a parade for the entire community – and a parade constituted entirely of churches.

Something about the character of Samuel Lawson and the people of Wissahickon was revealed when Elder Barnes showed me the parade route.  It’s a stretch on Lyceum Avenue through the center of Roxborough.   I had never been on Lyceum Avenue, but earlier that year I learned that Lyceum was nicknamed “The Wall” and is part of the US Cycling Championship.  It’s named “The Wall” because it is one of the most brutal challenges in pro-cycling.  One cyclist wrote: “[The wall] tests the physical and mental limits of every single rider.  With each passing lap, it gets harder and harder until the mere thought of having to do it again begins to prey on the mind.”  And this was the route for the parade!?

Fortunately the parade managers chose a wide, gentle stretch of Lyceum  that wasn’t too step and everyone was able to make it except for a beloved MG – but I’ll get to that later.

We gathered at Manayunk Avenue and Monastery and it was amazing. 21 churches lined Manayunk Av. and were cued up to march.  It was a spectacle.  We had three handsome grandsons of the church bearing flags, the cute and cool Lochte girls carrying the church banner, and Jodi and I were told where to march AND...

“Make sure to spread out to make us look big.” 

And we did.

I learned that this was number parade number 93 for our Clerk – and I asked Buzz how many parades he had been in and he said, “It would have been # 96 except for the war.” 

Needless to say, the parade is a big deal for us.  So big that our treasurer who has a well earned reputation for stretching a $ sprang for a marching band.  They were a glorious band with matching shirts and a perfect repertoire of patriotic songs for the 4th.  They were all set to play for us and keep Wissahickon Presbyterian marching in time when something happened. 

We’re not exactly sure how it happened, but someone stole our band.

One witness said it was a mistake by the grand marshal.  Another said it was a Presbyterian church up the street that had a reputation for stealing members.

Either way – we lost our band.  And despite money exchanged and promises made – our band marched with some other church.

I have to confess that I was a little concerned about some of our older members marching in the July heat.  By 10 a.m. the Mercury was approaching 90. 

Fortunately everyone made it up the Lyceum wall without incident except for one casualty.  It’s a 1952 MG convertible that has seen more than a few parades.  It’s a head turner with spoked hubcaps, a low windshield, and artistic lines that transport you back in time.  Everyone from Wissahickon managed the parade route but occasionally that sweet MG needed a little more time in the sun and simply decided we all needed a little more time too.  And so it stopped… for just the right amount of time that we all needed to rest and then and after a little battery charge decided that we could continue.  What a car – gifted with looks and thoughtful.

Each year, one church is honored and invited to march at the front of the parade.  We marched at the front of the parade on our 100th anniversary in 1992 and here we are 20 years later – still marching – celebrating 120 years.

The parade comes to an interesting end – it terminates at Bob’s Diner.  Maybe I wanted to march longer, maybe I was just getting warmed up, maybe I expected something else.  But I was really hoping the parade would go on, but there we were at Bob’s Diner and the parade was over.

The end was abrupt.  You make it to the top of Lyceum and there it is Bob’s Diner surrounded by a graveyard that stretches as far as the eye can see.  One wonders if there is a relationship to the graveyard and Bob’s Diner.  What do they serve at Bob’s?  Do they have healthy options?  How many people have finished the parade and been buried soon after?  Regardless, the sight of the cemetery makes you glad you made it.    

182 years.

Today is July 15th – it’s 11 days after the parade – and we’re reading from the 5th chapter of John in worship.  It’s a story of healing that none of the other gospels mention – it’s only in John.  The gospel is like the parade in that it's a story about rituals and practices and doing something over and over again.

For 38 straight years, a man made his way to the waters of Bethesda.

For 38 years, he showed up, day after day, hoping, expecting that something might happen.  38 years of seeing people come and go.

We don’t know how he got there.  We don’t know if it was a sister or a brother or a cousin who brought him to the waters.  All we know is that he spent much of his time there alone – year after year – waiting, hoping, praying that somehow the waters would make him well. 

You can imagine the smell of the place where the blind and the sick, the paralyzed and helpless, the ill and the infirmed congregate around standing water to be healed.  Soiled clothes that had sat for too long would carry foul winds that would make a normal person gag.

It’s easy to imagine the invalid by the waters of Bethesda saying these words:

After 38 years I was used to the smell.  I was used to the low din of these helpless creatures moaning and groaning – replace the sound of cattle being rounded up with the low pitched sounds of humans inhaling and exhaling – occasionally pierced by a sharp cry and you can hear the soundtrack of my life for 38 straight years.

We were there to be healed by the pools of Bethesda – Bethesda that place of hope – Bethesda in Hebrew and Aramaic means Beth – house and thesda – grace or mercy.  Bethesda – House of Grace.  The waters of Bethesda would occasionally stir and move and bubble up and when they did whoever touched them first was cured.  Everyone else – stayed the same  withered, lame, paralyzed self.  For 38 years I’ve watched others be made well – for I had no one to help – and on those rare days when I was closest to water and it started to stir – I would be cut off- only to watch someone else be healed.  

I don’t know why he chose me above the others – perhaps he knew that I had been coming to those waters day after day for 38 years – hoping something might happen – loyally showing up.

38 years is a long time to show up and be disappointed but what else was I to do?

But the one they called Jesus of Nazareth  came right to me.

He swept past the newcomers – past the occasional visitors – and found me – the one who had been there for so long that I was practically part of the landscape.

He asked me if I wanted to be made well.

And then he said, “Arise!!!!” “Take up your matt and walk.”

After 38 long years I felt strength in my legs.

38 years.  After 38 years you start to think that nobody notices a long steady obedience of doing what you can – of doing your best – of doing what’s right.

BUT apparently he noticed.

Dad, that’s the story we read this morning in church.

There's some beautiful truth in the man by the waters of Bethesda and the church parade.

Both know the value of showing up year after year.  They know the value of loyalty.  Of hanging in there.  Of steady habits that bond you one to another. 

Loyalty, 38 years, 93 years, faithfulness, and freedom, what beautiful things we have to celebrate whether it be the 4th of July or another Sunday in summer.

Yours,

Graham