The Story of a Photograph
Grace to you and peace from God our Creator, from our Risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ and from our Sustainer, the Holy Spirit. Amen.
“Six days later, Jesus took with him, Peter and James and his brother, John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.”
A man named Mesut Hancer climbed a mound of rubble – what probably seemed to him like a high mountain. He climbed a mountain of rubble – what was once an apartment building – to search for his daughter who was buried somewhere in that mountain of rubble.
It’s been almost two weeks since the massive 7.8 magnitude earthquake rocked Turkey and Syria claiming the lives of more than 36,000 people with tens of thousands of injuries and millions left homeless.
There is one image that most graphically and tragically captures the devastation, and that is a photograph of a man named Mesut Hancer sitting near the top of that mound of rubble and holding the hand of his deceased 15-year-old daughter, Irmak. She was still trapped under the rubble, lying face-down in the bed in which she had been sleeping. The collapse had killed her instantly, but he could not free her body. Irmak had been visiting her grandmother and for three days Mesut tried to free her body from the rubble.
He said, “It was awful. As soon as I heard the news, I rushed there. And with my own bare hands, with my own means, with great effort I tried to pull out my daughter, but I couldn’t save my daughter…I couldn’t ask anyone for help, because there were a lot of people under the rubble,” he said. Everyone was trying to save their own loved ones.
“I didn’t have hope because there was a large steel beam on my daughter. Her waist up was free but below her waist was under the rubble. She was crushed.” Mesut Hancer grieves not only for his daughter. The earthquake struck when many members of his family were visiting his mother in that apartment building. He said, “My mother, my two older brothers, my sister-in-law and her little daughter. There were seven people…all under the rubble.”
The photographer who took the picture, Adem Altan, can’t compare this picture he took on a cold morning that week with any of the tens of thousands he has shot in his 41 years as a photojournalist. Shortly after driving from Ankara to the southern Turkish town of Kahramanmaras,, and picking his way through the aftermath of the earthquake, he came across a collapsed apartment complex. Families were digging through the rubble in search of their buried loved ones, but it was a man in an orange coat who sat quietly amid the debris who caught Altan’s eye.
“When I looked closer, I saw that he was holding a hand,” It was Mesut Hancer, who said to him, “Take a photo of my child.” So he showed the photographer his daughter who could see only her hand and her head lying face-down on her bed crushed by a steel beam.
While others all around him frantically dug through the rubble with their bare hands just as he had done, Mesut Hancer, the man in the orange coat, sat quietly amid the debris holding the hand of his daughter – now deceased. This photograph documents a father’s undimmable, unwavering, unlimited love for his child. Holding her hand at that moment with love. Holding her hand forever with love. Holding her hand forever. Holding her hand. Holding her.
On that mountain top when Jesus was transfigured before them, when his face shone like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white, when a loud voice thundered from the cloud now enveloping him, Peter and James and John fell to the ground overcome with fear. They fell to the ground when they heard God’s voice say, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” This image, this image from the mountain-top documents the father’s undimmable, unwavering, unlimited love for His son.
And when Jesus kneels down to touch Peter and James and John who had fallen to the ground overwhelmed, he said, “Now get up and do not be afraid.” That’s God’s undimmable, unwavering, unlimited love for God’s children. That image documents a father’s love for his children – reaching down to touch…reaching down to hold their hand…just as Masut Hancer held his daughter’s hand on that pile of rubble.
Recently we’ve known two people who have been in hospice care, and the beautiful thing about hospice care when done well is that hospice care is like God reaching down to those near the end of life – reaching down, touching them through those on the hospice team – chaplain, nurses, doctors, family members, friends to bring comfort to those who are dying – just as Jesus touched the disciples who were laid out on the ground in fear. And then when death comes, God holds their hand and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Yours is the kingdom forever.
Just as God touched the hand of Masut Hancer’s daughter, Irmak, held her hand and said, “Come with me. Yours is the kingdom forever.” So God took the hand of Rick’s brother, Allen who was in hospice care last week with the words, “Get up and do not be afraid,” and right now God holds the hand of our dear brother Lee, who is in hospice care and says, “do not be afraid.”
As he holds the hand of his deceased daughter, Irmak, Masut Hancer does not look afraid. He looks overwhelmingly sad. He even looks peaceful if not completely exhausted. But what is so striking to me about this photograph is how alone he looks – how absolutely alone he is while holding the hand of his deceased daughter.
Up on the mountain top when the disciples hit the ground from fear – after they saw what they saw, after they heard what they heard – at least they were not alone. They had each other. But on that mound of rubble Masut Hancer looks completely alone and while sitting there alone he asks the photographer to take a picture of his daughter. Why does he do that? Why does he want a photograph taken of his daughter? Because without that photograph, she would not be here with us today. Without the photograph her father would not be here with us today. Without the photograph they would still be alone. Without the photograph we would not have been able to be with them. I would not be able to tell their story. You would not be able to leave here today with their story in your hearts and with their story to tell others.
“As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’” Well, my dear brothers and sisters, the Son of Man has been raised from the dead so now we will tell the story of the vision on the mountaintop. We will tell the story of the father’s undimmable, unwavering, unlimited love for his child so he is never alone again, but rather loved. We will tell the story of Rick’s brother Allen’s death so Rick is not alone, but loved. We will tell the story of Lee on hospice care so he and his family are not alone but loved.
In last week’s sermon I told the story of the police shooting in Easton and the story of the third grader who wants to be known as non-binary. We tell these stories so that those grieving the death of Marianne Griffiths will not be alone, but loved. We tell these stories so that all who have been traumatized by the shooting and the leaders in our community who are navigating us through this tragedy are not alone, but loved. We tell these stories so that a third grader and her family who are wrestling with identity are not alone, but loved.
That’s what so critical and beautiful and unique about the church. We are a community with in a community – together we are Jesus reaching out to touch those who are alone or who are suffering in any way and echoing Jesus’ words, “Get up and do not be afraid. We love you.” We now are the ones gifted with purpose and saying to anyone who needs lifting up, “You are God’s child. You are God’s beloved. With you God is so pleased! And in so doing we give the world the gifts of hope and meaning and purpose and salvation.
I invited you to take another look at the photograph and as you do I invite you:
-to see a Father’s undimmable, unwavering, unlimited love for his child
-to see our Father, our benevolent God holding the hand of God’s child
-to see God holding your hand
and as we enter into Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent I invite you to see God holding Jesus’ hand right after he suffered and died on the cross. Amen.