Christ the King Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the Book of Daniel we heard, "...one that was ancient of days took his throne; his clothes were white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames..." From Revelation we hear, "I am the alpha and the omega,' says the Lord God, who is, and who was and who is to come, the Almighty'"

These dramatic descriptions are familiar ones that are used in ancient scriptures through medieval paintings like Michelangelo's Sistine chapel, to images today. It's become a formulaic description of the Creator God. It continues the mystery language of the Apocalyptic writer who reaches for an image of ultimate majesty and power as the forces of good and evil combat one another using both heaven and earth as the battle field.

I can't help but also think of the contemporary image taken from the movie series called The Matrix. In this series the protagonist Neo finally meets God prior to another ultimate conflict of good and evil. This time God is an older African American woman in a bit of a frumpy house dress with an oversized shoulder bag, seated not on a throne, but a park bench. A very different picture, to be sure, than that painted by both Daniel and John, but no less authoritative or less powerful. I'm certainly not equating this movie series with scripture, especially given the ratings it got, but it does help to point out something very important; namely, the image of God painted by humans is merely a vehicle to understand the vastness of God and the power of God.

How do you literally put a face on the source of all life and creation? How can we contain the infinite in words or pictures? It's impossible and yet as Christians we believe that the word of God became flesh in the person of Jesus. We convey our limited understanding of God into a still imperfect but easier concept of a human embodying the nature of God as well as the nature of humans.

This day in the Liturgical Calendar is called Christ the King. It is the last Sunday in the church year and is the culmination of all the preceding Sundays marking the life events of Christ and the teachings. It's the conclusion of the year in story form. Next week begins a new year with the first Sunday of Advent. And the telling begins anew.

But the beginning of a new year can wait for now. In this moment we celebrate Christ the King. Our Gospel lesson recalls the conversation between Pontius Pilate and Jesus regarding his Kingship. In the context of the Gospel Pilate wants to be convinced. He wants to find a reason to free Jesus and through this discourse it's clear that Pilate is fascinated with Jesus, speaking to him not as a prisoner but as an equal. Pilate knew there was more to this man than the charges brought against him, but allowed others to intervene and cut the discovery short. Pilate's refusal to pursue his desire to know more about Jesus, to engage him in further conversation, to be convinced and understand more about his kingship led to a crucifixion, an attempt at silencing the absurd yet compelling claims of kingship.

The ability to grasp the concept of Jesus' kingship, like the ability to grasp the image of God is much like the ability to grasp water or air. It seems impossible. And yet, I think the Gospel writer as well as the others, spend so much time with Pilate because the reader also becomes in a way Pilate, in a position of judgment over the claims that others make over this person. Who is he? Criminal or King? It seems to be the question reverberating throughout the Gospels, from the Pharisees and Priests who see a law breaker, to his childhood neighbors who see a presumptuous upstart, to those healed by him, taught by him and fed by him. All through the Gospels there are those who would kill him and those who would crown him. And yet each making their decision based on their needs and their expectations.

Like Pilate we too have heard these stories and we have more to add through the years of Christian history. Like Pilate we too must judge. Do we crucify or follow? Like Pilate we can figure out that there are consequences to either choice. This day is a reminder that the actions made once and for all so long ago are also actions that we make every day.

The relationship between Pilate and Jesus is all the more important for us when we accept that Pilate thought he was in control of the situation. He thought his decision would take care of the matter. And of course it did not.

God's dominion over the universe and all of creation isn't mediated through humanity, regardless of their authority. God's power grace and goodness flows whether we choose to believe it or not, or, accept it or not. The word of God made flesh in Jesus was felt by those who knew him and His spirit is still felt today regardless of who believes it or not.

We have many images of God created through scripture and story, painting and movie. We have images of God know to ourselves alone or perhaps shared with another. All are valid as they open us up to the wonder that is God's being. All of us confront the person of Jesus and try to understand what the Son of God means, the King of Glory, the Prince of Peace or any of the titles conferred on him by humanity in an attempt to grasp his reality.

There is satisfaction in knowing that whatever we decide God is still God and Jesus is still Jesus, and Christ is King. We cannot plumb the depths of that statement but we can in our need and in our time embrace it. Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

All Saints Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the Book of Revelation we just read, "Then one of the elders addressed me saying, 'Who are these robed in white, and where have they come from?' I said to him, 'Sir, you are the one that knows.'"

St. John, whom we call The Divine, had a vision of heaven and in this vision he saw those who went through the prism of persecution and stood before the throne of God spotless and pure, dedicated through their faith and belief to the service of God.

John was told, "...the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

These are the saints as John understood them. John wrote the Book of Revelation as an old man imprisoned on the island of Patmos. This island is in the Aegean Sea and like our legendary prison island of Alcatraz, Patmos was a cruel rock tantalizingly close to the home it's prisoners knew, yet treacherously out of reach.

In his vision and poetry, John reviewed his life, the sacrifices he made and the sacrifices made by so many he knew and this informed his vision of what reward awaited him and those who worked so hard and made similar sacrifices for the same belief in the same man.

"...and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes..." I suspect there were many tears in John's eyes as he wrote, and as he suffered on that island and thought of those who suffered so much for what they believed. Imagine such a strong belief to lead them into such suffering and such fates as those who stood in white robes in John's vision.

St. Paul, in a writing of his own, praised the saints who ran with patience in a race of endurance to achieve a laurel crown that would never fade. Perhaps Paul watched a marathon race and projected himself and his work into the image. As we witness the runners in today's race in New York, perhaps we can imagine ourselves runners in a race that doesn't require us to cross the finish line first to be the winner, but simply to run.

There are many images to describe those who believe in something strong enough to sacrifice anything, and sometimes everything, for their goal or dream.

Occasionally, there will be a knock at my door breaking the quiet and interrupting my reading of the newspaper. On these occasions there might be pairs of people, usually young, each working for what they believe. One pair might knocked on doors on behalf of their religious denomination, wanting very much to share their faith with me and save me from what they truly believed was the error of my ways and invite me to find the salvation they believe they have. My initial annoyance melts away after I close the door on them, and I actually became impressed that they work so hard for what they believed in. I don't remember ever seeing Episcopalians going door to door inviting others to share our way of worship or discuss our beliefs.

Another pair of young people have knocked on my door another day with another mission. Theirs was political in nature, asking for my vote in the upcoming election, truly believing in the vision of their candidate. Again, I am impressed by the zeal of those who would risk the negative responses of residents for the sake of their beliefs and commitment to their vision for a better country.

We celebrate today the saints who lived in the service of Christ. We celebrate today the saints who died in the service of Christ. We renew our vows to be one of those saints, to break bread together, to follow the teaching of the apostles, to acknowledge our faults and seek forgiveness, to see Christ in all persons and honor the dignity of all people. We renew our vows to pursue justice.

We will shortly baptize William Keith Critz, listen to his godparents making these vows for him and affirm our support of him in th is life of faith. We will welcome him in to the company of faithful believers.

In the ritual of Baptism I will ask if you belief in God the Father, then I'll ask if you believe in God the Son, then I'll ask you if you believe in God the Holy Spirit. I will not ask you if you'll go door to door proclaiming your answer, but while you're reading the responses I want you to imagine yourselves doing just that. I've been imagining my self doing that all this past week. I don't think I will go door to door, but I have to tell you I have a whole new respect for those who do. I'm not sure I would want to go to prison for my beliefs as Christians do in some parts of the world, or be killed for being a Christian as happens in some parts of the world. But I am humbled by those who are imprisoned and killed for their beliefs and like John the Divine can easily imagine them dressed in spotless robes before the throne of God receiving the reward of those who followed their faith come what may.

I can, like Paul, hope that as I run this race of life, hope to have a measure of the patience and endurance they have, and feel the wash of grace that tells me that I am winning simply by being in the race. My achievements are modest and humble by comparison, in fact not even worthy to be in the same category, yet the God who made us, accepts us where we are and as we are. The God who made us constantly invites us to enter the race and will guide us as we run, pick us up when we stumble and refresh us when we tire.

Yesterday in her sermon at the Washington Cathedral during her historic investiture as the first woman Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts-Schiori described our faith and work as a way of coming home and finding that deep peace known as "shalom." She said,

"That vision of homegoing and homecoming that underlies our deepest spiritual yearnings is also the job assignment each one of us gets in baptism -- go home, and while you're at it, help to make a home for everyone else on earth," she continued. "For none of us can truly find our rest in God until all of our brothers and sisters have also been welcomed home like the prodigal."

All of us are called into Christ's service in so many different ways. We each have different gifts, different goals, different visions and different levels of commitment to achieve them. But make no mistake, faith takes commitment, whether a pledge to support the house and work of this community, or the zeal to walk with another on their path to faith, or one of the myriad of ways God calls us into service, we get there by entering the race. By trying. By wanting. Belief is not easy, and working for a belief that's not easy is even harder. But God takes us where we are and leads us into deeper union, deeper faith and deeper life. Beliefs change, evolve and grow, but unless we start somewhere, we won't go anywhere.

In the confirmation class I teach, we began a lesson on the Bible by reading the creation story from Genesis. One of the youth, got a quizzical look in his eyes, cocked his head and asked me, "You don't expect us to believe this do you?" And just as I don't expect him or anyone to believe everything they read, I hope we all have some beliefs that bring us closer to God in stories and images that speak to us and that we can share with others. Stories that will inspire and challenge them to come up with their own beliefs in the ultimate spiritual realities of God's love. I don't know how God created the world, but I believe God did. This essential truth seems to underlie all cultures who have stories that speak to them and describe their belief.

Without any beliefs we are lost to despair and cynicism. We are paralyzed and hopeless without goals, vision, or even love. But the beliefs we hold are worthy of our commitment, work and sacrifice. Each saint who went before has their own story and witness as they followed God's call, and we can join them by following God's call to us.

Most of us don't go door to door, but we answer this call by how we do live out our commitment. Like today, we may make pledges and writes checks to places that are doing God's work in the world. In addition, like our youth this week, we may get on planes and go to devastated places in our country to help out victims of hurricane disaster. We might support causes like marriage equality, signing petitions for legislation we believe in or gather food for the hungry. We might challenge those who make a racial slur or tell jokes at the expense of another. We might change our lives in subtle or dramatic ways to reflect changes and growth in our faith. We are saints already by virtue of our baptism and we enter the stream of believers in a living water of faith not knowing where it will take us, but knowing that wherever it does, God is there.

We don't compete for God's love, it's abundant and available to all. It's not awarded to those first over the line, but equally to any who care to enter the race. Today we celebrate all the saints and also to remember that we stand among them, loved by God and dedicated to God's service. Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Stewardship Luncheon Sunday

By Dan Austin, Chair, Stewardship Task Force

We all have had "aha" moments, that time of revelation when something we see or hear gives us insight into how this world of ours really works. One of my best aha moments came almost 25 years ago, while sitting in the pews of a small Episcopal parish in a suburb of Pittsburgh, PA. The rector, a Welshman who truly had seen everything and wasn't fazed by any of it, announced from the pulpit that, after much prayerful consideration, he had concluded that there are, really, only two kinds of people in this world. There are people who wake up every day and say, "Good morning, God!" And then there are those who awake, look at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows, and say, "Good God, morning."

I never forgot that. I'm now -- in late middle age, 60 years out and starting to head home -- a good morning God person.

No doubt some of this is due to the aging process. In my misspent youth -- in college, I was a member of the original animal house fraternity -- partying well past midnight was the norm, and the harsh light of morning was seldom welcomed. Nowadays, I'm usually sound asleep by 10 if not before. But I think one reason I'm happy to welcome the morning -- and my creator -- is that my view of life, of God and of my place in God's universe, has changed.

I am not here to tell you that I was a sinner, and now am a saint. No, this place is still a hospital for sinners, and on more than one occasion, I've needed the emergency room.

But I am here to tell you that I am undergoing a conversion experience. It's nothing exciting, no blinding light, no voice from the burning bush, and it's full of fits and starts, and it seems to never end. But it is bringing me a peace that I, a classic type A, take-no-prisoners kind of guy, never thought possible.

It is broadening my capacity to love my neighbors, even the blockheads next door, and along the way, it is helping me replace rough edges, even anger, with understanding and empathy. And, miracle of miracles in this age of instant gratification, this conversion process is showing me that by giving first of myself, by giving my time, my talent and my treasure, I receive much more in return than any effort to keep up with those nasty Joneses ever brought. I want to share my conversion story because it has everything to do with stewardship, specifically, the stewardship of money, the offering of personal treasure for the benefit of God's people here at St. George's and in the wider world. My hope is that my story won't be what Bruce Springsteen, in his epic song "Glory Days," called "boring stories, eh."

My hope is that my story will make you think about your own story. About where you are as a child of God, as a member of the human race, as someone's son or daughter, as someone's parent or spouse or partner, or perhaps as someone who has chosen to worship God in this beautiful place.

I'm a cradle Episcopalian and through my high school years, was active in my parish, a cathedral parish on the high plains of western Kansas. The dean of the cathedral, Frederick Litchman, was a hard-headed, high-church New Englander who, despite his austere countenance and intolerance of fools, especially young fools, inspired great loyalty in me and other youth. He also taught us a Christianity that went well beyond what we learned in Sunday school.

One quick example: in our Kansas town in the early 1960s, "urban renewal" had arrived, and what it meant then was that a neighborhood of older, smaller homes, which housed a good portion of the town’s minority population, would be bulldozed, replaced by a park and a new Interstate exit ramp.

The residents of this renewed neighborhood would be relocated to what had been military housing on the other side of town, near a Strategic Air Command base.

Needless to say, the residents weren't in favor of being renewed, let alone being removed, or having their houses and their churches torn down. They fought the renewal effort in court, and lost. The pastor of a Baptist church in the neighborhood organized a protest, but few outside that African American community listened. Finally, the town fathers, impatient, decided to proceed with demolition, got a court order to back up the decision, and then sent the county sheriff to enforce it, authorizing him to remove the residents by force if necessary.

On the Saturday morning the bulldozers were set to begin their work, Dean Litchman assembled a squad of acolytes, with yours truly as crucifer, and the cathedral choir, and led us -- all vested -- in car pools to the demolition site. There we encountered a scene straight out of the movies. On one side, the Baptist pastor and several dozen of his flock stood, arm in arm. On the other were two bulldozers, engines running, and an assortment of sheriff's deputies, town police and highway patrolmen, batons at the ready. Right down the middle, led by the dean in his black biretta, stole and purple cassock, came the acolytes -- a crucifer and two candles -- and the choir of Christ Cathedral, singing "Onward Christian Soldiers." The sheriff, who knew most of us, shook his head, put the court order back in his pocket, and told the entourage of police and construction workers to go home.

That day, I saw the power of the Holy Spirit, acting through a small group of people and their priest, change minds, change lives and alter the course of events. The scene would stay with me, filed away deep in my mind. And deep it was. Indeed, within just a few short years after that Saturday morning -- when I had felt so close to God -- I began to fall away from the church, first through the haze of the later 1960's -- and by the way, anyone who tells you he or she remembers the 60's probably wasn’t there -- then the army and Vietnam, and then the launch of a professional career as a journalist, working for one of the most powerful, respected newspapers in the world. There were moments when I would edge back to my faith roots: a rocket and mortar attack in Vietnam, where I learned there truly were no atheists in foxholes. The difficult birth of a child, in which I found myself in serious negotiation with God.

Mostly, though, my wife Gail and I were simply too busy for church. To humor my parents, we would go on Christmas and Easter, usually. But the idea of giving money to the church? A non starter, for us. I was a journalist, not an investment banker. When our first child was born, Gail wanted to stay home with him through at least the pre-school years -- a nice idea but after a move to expensive New Jersey from inexpensive Detroit, an idea we quickly discovered we could no longer afford. She found weekend work, I became Mr. Mom on Saturday and Sunday, and we scraped by. A couple of bucks in the collection plate, even on Christmas, seemed a stretch.

That began to change with the birth of our second son. I had remembered enough of my religious heritage to know that the child needed to be baptized, even if I couldn’t remember quite why. We had Dean Litchman come out of retirement to baptize our first son at that cathedral in Kansas, but his declining health ruled that out the second time around. We had just moved to Pittsburgh with our newborn, didn't know a soul and so decided to church shop.

I would like to say my conversion began there, the day we walked into St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Brentwood, PA, with a baby and a four year old in tow. And in a way it did. We were greeted warmly, I got over the shock of the 1979 prayer book -- I had missed all the controversy that preceded its adoption -- we began to make lasting friends, our baby was baptized and, believe it or not, I soon found myself leading a bible study -- I hadn’t had to cram that hard since my western civ exams in college.

But as we became more involved in this Western Pennsylvania community, I found myself reflecting more and more on why I was back in church after all these years, and why it felt so right.

I recalled the example my Kansas parish and its cathedral dean had set in taking on the urban renewal bulldozers. And then it struck me: they had sought to follow the mind of Christ, even at personal risk, and they had prevailed.

In the epistle today, St. Paul tells the Hebrews that "the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edge sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart."

What a concept! God knows who I am, sees through all my artful dodging and prevarication, and still chooses to be active in my life, moving me, and others like me to stop acting for ourselves and start acting on behalf of our families and friends and neighbors, even on behalf of our enemies, to let loose ties that bind us -- the ties of material want instead of material need, the ties of hate instead of love -- and free us for the truly good life!

My faith continues to be a roller coaster ride, but at each turn, I've come closer to grasping this essential truth: it is better to give than to receive.

St. Matthew quotes Jesus as saying "where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Billy Graham adds, "Give me five minutes with a person's check book, and I’ll show you where their heart is."

Thus, my conversion experience really began in that suburban Pittsburgh parish when Gail and I decided to begin giving regularly to the church we were coming to feel comfortable in.

It wasn't much at first -- probably around 2% of our income -- and it didn't always grow every year. But the more we gave, the more we gave. It wasn't only to the parish church either. Episcopal groups, charities of other denominations, secular non profits with humanitarian aims, educational institutions, art museums, all begin to get checks from the Austins. Not big checks, mind you, but regular ones. By the time we got to St. George's, we didn’t need to be told twice about the importance of stewardship -- writing out a check every week and putting it in those little envelops had become a pleasurable habit. Eventually, and I do mean eventually, we realized that our annual total giving amounted to about 10% of our gross income -- the biblical tithe -- and that we weren't missing a penny of it.

I'm still not sure I would be comfortable with Billy Graham or Bernie Poppe looking at my checkbook. They might wonder about the check to Dave's liquors for a case of that great pinot, or might be inclined to ask if I really needed a new car every three years. Moreover, I know that financial circumstances change. When our last child graduated from college, and I was no longer on a first-name basis with the Cornell bursar's office, it felt like I had gotten a gigantic raise. We were happy to share some of this windfall with the rest of God's creation. On the other hand, last February, in a variation of Jesus' warning that he who lives by the sword shall die by it, a corporate restructuring and cost-cutting effort eliminated my position and sent me into an unplanned retirement.

Our financial situation is now unclear. I got a decent severance payment, but while I'm now close to accepting another job, I know it won't pay nearly as well. But here's the thing. It doesn't matter. We'll get by -- we’ve lived on hot dogs and beans before, and we'll do so again if necessary. We have learned to be good stewards of whatever we are given, and to give cheerfully in return. St. George's, this wonderful parish with its great people, ministries and outreach, along with other very worthy causes and groups, will still get 10% of whatever we have. How could we not support this loving community! More important, I will continue to wake every morning, rain or shine, and say silently or aloud, "Good morning, God!"

Amen.

© 2006 Dan Austin

Children's Sabbath

By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

May I speak in the name of the Living God by whose grace we are "holy partners in a heavenly calling." Amen.

I am very glad to be with you this morning on behalf of North Porch and at the request of Lindsay McHugh, my dear friend and long time president of the North Porch Board of Trustees. Thank you for inviting me and for choosing Children's Sabbath to highlight the ministry of North Porch Women and Infant Centers. St. George's has been a generous and faithful supporter for more years than I can count. North Porch could not do what it does -- which is provide emergency supplies for some of northern NJ's most vulnerable children -- without you and others like you working with us. Together we truly are, as Lindsay just read, "holy partners in a heavenly calling" (Heb 3:1).

I come before you today as a priest, a member of the North Porch Board of Trustees and a mom and must admit figuring out what to say to you this morning was an unexpected challenge. Is this a sermon? An introduction to North Porch? A plea from a mother on behalf of other mothers who cannot address you themselves? The answer is I hope it will in a way be all of those.

For those of you who may not be familiar with us, North Porch Women and Infants' Center is an emergency service organization providing 7 day supplies of formula, baby food, diapers, clothing, bed linens and other supplies to needy mothers and infants from birth to age 3. It is a ministry of the Episcopal Church Women of the Diocese of Newark. The name comes from the ancient custom of the church to regard the "north porch" of the church as a refuge and gathering place for women.

I explained this to our son who was then about 4 when I joined the Board who from then on referred to North Porch as "the church babies." "Are you going to the church babies meeting?" or "You can give my bottles to the church babies because I’m a big boy now." I love that. Though North Porch helps mothers (and fathers) of every faith and of no faith to me, and I expect to others, all the children who come to North Porch needing our help are God's children. I joined North Porch because Lindsay invited me to -- never underestimate the power of an invitation! -- and because it enables me to serve the Holy One who came among us as a child, poor and in a manger, in a way that even a child can understand. It's small. It's tangible. I can make a difference. What, I wonder, draws you to this ministry?

North Porch has 3 Centers to which mothers and babies can come for aid. The first opened in Newark in 1984 and is located in the former St. Philip's Academy building at 2 Park Place opposite the Cathedral. The Paterson Center opened in 1990 and operates out of St. Paul's Episcopal Church Paterson in conjunction with St. Paul's Food Pantry. Our third center opened in 1998 at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Dover.

Mothers find out about us through our contact organizations such as hospitals, health depts., churches, women’s shelters etc. with whom we’ve made a cooperative agreement and to whom we've given referral forms that the clients bring with them when they come. The families can come once every 6 months to get their 7 day supply from the Center nearest them.

The Centers themselves are overseen by a volunteer Board of Trustees -- on which Lindsay and I serve -- that meets monthly. The North Porch Dover and Newark Centers have part-time paid managers and the Paterson Center is staffed by volunteers who are assisted by the men from the Homeless Shelter that’s part of St. Paul's Community Development Corporation. The managers North Porch has hired are women who are only steps away from needing the assistance North Porch provides. It has been gratifying to be able to help them as they help us in turn help others.

It's gratifying to make a difference in people's lives -- like the father who came for assistance for his baby when he found himself out of work and then three months later returned to North Porch with a bag full of groceries: You were there for me when I needed it. I'm back on my feet and want to return the favor. Or to see a delighted 7 year old girl who'd come in wearing sandals in December try on her "like new" winter coat from North Porch beaming saying: O I LIKE this! I LIKE this! As her mother knelt alongside her saying: "Honey I TOLD you God would provide! Honey I TOLD you God would provide." God did provide. You helped.

The funding for all this comes from people like you. North Porch receives assistance through the outreach efforts of many parishes -- such as St. George's -- and various organizations, from interested and concerned individuals and granting agencies. Many supplies and all clothing are donated. We serve around 1100 mothers and their babies each year through our three centers.

North Porch was originally conceived as providing a stop-gap for mothers waiting for their next welfare check. With the transition from Welfare to Workfare, North Porch clients today are often employed but making so little money at minimum and low wage jobs that they can't get above the poverty level. These are people who tend to live from paycheck to paycheck and they are extremely vulnerable to disruptions like the recent rise in the cost of heating, gasoline, or an unexpected medical expense. North Porch is reaching out to try to ensure that fewer of these people fall by the wayside. The need is ongoing and great.

In an effort to address the deepening need North Porch has started a North Porch Future Fund, a trust fund that will allow North Porch to continue to serve needy women and children for many years to come. The Fund is invested with the Diocesan Investment Trust and proceeds from donations are currently being reinvested. Although our need for regular day-to-day contributions continues to be great, the Future Fund is helping us build for the future hopefully to enable us to expand our services. We'd like to be able, in the words of my godfather Bishop Paul Moore -- the father of 9 children -- to move "beyond charity to justice." To "establish justice in the gate," in the words of Amos. We hope one day to do more to help lift these women out of the circumstances in which they find themselves to make better lives for themselves and for their children -- even as we will continue to provide for their most basic needs. We have, in our own small way, as Martin Luther King, Jr. put it, "a dream." We invite you to be a part of it.

The work that North Porch does is so important. We wish it weren't. We wish, more than anything, that there were simply no business for us and that we had to fold up our tents and go home. But that's not what's happening. People -- babies and young children are going hungry in our communities. They shouldn't in this land of plenty, but they do and so long as they do North Porch plans to be there with assistance you help provide. In short we need you. We need your donations and your checks -- and we need you. We need you to pray for us, to sit on our Board, to help us with the nitty gritty work of caring and the o-so-vital work of envisioning what’s possible. Everybody's contribution is welcome and needed. No one else can bring the gift you have to bring.

I can't help but wonder, given the gospel for today, what might have happened if the passion of that rich young man -- who came running to Jesus falling at his feet -- had been channeled into following him? I wrote a poem about that once -- for New Testament class right before Christmas break -- what a difference each person makes.

No leafy boughs,
No glowing lights,
No ho ho ho
No Christmas night

No shining star
For kings to see
No manger bed
No calvary

Had one young maid
Like a rich man said
I cannot, Lord,
And hung his head.

God seeks "holy partners in a heavenly calling." We are so glad you're ours. Together we can make, literally, all the difference in the world. Thank you for the opportunity to speak to you about North Porch. Above all, thank you for helping us able to make God’s love visible to the mothers and babies who come through our doors. God bless you.

© 2006 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

Jesus' teachings on divorce

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Occasionally our lessons bring us into difficult places. Today is one such time. At first, the reading from Genesis is an old favorite, it's the creation story where after creating Adam, God sees that he's lonely and tries to find company for him. He creates the animals and the birds, all of which Adam names.

As we discussed last week during the blessing of animals, they are indeed wonderful and have much to teach us about companionship and unconditional love, but admittedly even animals have their limitations when it comes to intimacy and relationship.

It appears that God discovered this, as well as Adam. Creating animals was, after all, God's experiment to see if any of these creations could do the trick. You can almost see Adam sighing heavily as each animal was paraded by him for his naming, as if to say, "No, not this one either." God seemed truly stumped. We might imagine God scratching His almighty head trying to figure it out. If the image of God were feminine in this passage, she would have figured it out much sooner, but we have to work with what we have.

The company Adam required was human, and in this story of creation a woman was created to be Adam's companion. She was created from his side, from his rib. It's a wonderful story and full of levels of faith, symbolism and teaching. We learn about God's concern for the welfare and happiness on humans. We learn of humans responsibility over creation as stewards. We learn about the need of balance in masculine and feminine. We learn about relationships and tensions as the two created from one, separate and come back together to form one flesh.

Every culture and religion has a creation story, and this one is as good as any of them, for its purpose. I'm tempted to veer off down the road of refuting literalism, but suffice it to say, I don't hold that the creation story here is literal, but that it is a teaching device dressed in the clothing of faith, the faith which draws pictures and allows us to see the truth of God’s creative love expressed poetically.

I'm also tempted to refute the sexism in the story since in naming not only the animals, but ultimately Eve, the author places Adam in a position of power and domination over the rest of creation including Eve. Suffice it to say, I don't believe that either. A theologian from the middle ages reminded us that Eve was taken from Adam’s side to be his equal, not his foot to be walked upon.

I'm not even going to read the gay issue into it either. If I hear once more that God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, I'll become most unpleasant.

No, I want to look at this story as it connects to the Gospel lesson concerning marriage. In both lessons we have this quote, "Therefore a man leaves his father and mother and cleaves to his wife and they become one flesh." The Gospel lessons continues this thought with the phrase that is well know in weddings, "Therefore whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder."

As I said at the opening, the lesson can bring us into difficult places. I've highlighted a few, in terms of roads I was tempted to go down, but there is another in the gospel lesson today as it should have been presented.

Occasionally I take issue with the editors of the Lectionary because they leave out sections of the scriptures that they obviously feel are to upsetting or controversial for us. I think we have a responsibility not only to see and hear them, but wrestle with them even when they make us uncomfortable. Even if the tension created is not resolved fully to our satisfaction. Only then will our study of scripture yield the fruit of faith that energizes and strengthens us.

In the Gospel lesson Jesus had been asked a trick question by the Pharisees about divorce, was it lawful. Jesus knew as well as they did that Moses allowed divorce with the writing of a certificate. A man, that is, writing a certificate of divorce for a woman, not the other way around. He reminded them of the creation story where the two became one flesh. He graciously allowed that Moses created a law for divorce given their "hardness of heart" but that he, Jesus, believed that no one should separated those who are married. He goes on to say, past the point of our lesson, that anyone male or female who divorces their spouse and marries another commits adultery. Curiously, Jesus allows for the scenario in which a woman divorces her husband. That was not the norm, and yet her consequence would be the same. If they divorce and marry another, they commit adultery.

This passage is painful and difficult for divorced persons, especially those considering remarriage. It creates tension. Perhaps like the editors of our lectionary we should omit this one, ignore it and go on to happier, more fuzzy passages.

But I cannot. Passages like this are like an elephant in the room and need to be addressed, talked about or at least identified. We live in different times, with different customs and understanding of human relationships. We can minimize the impact of Jesus’ stern words by contexturalizing them in a society from two thousand years ago. That's a start, but we need more.

There is the truth of Jesus' compassion. In a society where women were totally subject to their husbands, to be deserted by them would leave them destitute. The enormous suffering could be confronted by husbands not being allowed in communities of faith to divorce their wives. From the beginning of creation we learned that we are related to one another and need to care for one another. This teaching approaches that compassion in strong terms.

Even Matthew in writing his gospel decades later than Mark refers to this same teaching and modifies it to allow for divorce for reasons of "unchastity." In Matthew the disciples grumble about this too and conclude it's better not to get married at all then.

The writer of that Gospel resolves the issue mysteriously, if not poorly, by saying "Those who are able to hear it, listen." That's our cue to nod our heads sagely and say "Ah," as though we understand, when we don't and clearly they didn’t either.

Divorce and remarriage is part of our culture. Divorce is acceptable and remarriage is celebrated. We do not consider it adultery. We consider adultery to be a sexual relationship between one or both people who are not married or partnered to each other but someone else. There are good reasons to get married and there are good reasons to get divorced, there are good reasons to get remarried.

But the spirit of these lessons, rather than the legality is what I think often gets overlooked in such discussions. We tend not to look beyond the picture Jesus is painting to the spiritual truth. When two people commit to one another, either in marriage or same gender relationships, their spirits do become united. For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health the two share a common bond. When that bond is damaged, broken or severed in any of the multitude of ways that can happen, the spirit remains connected even though damaged. For better or worse the two will always share a place in each others heart and spirit. In happy marriages this connection can bring great joy, in unhappy marriages or divorces, it can bring great pain. But it need to be recognized that it is there. Once recognized, if it is painful, healing work needs to be done.

Some couples who split up reunite, most don't, but in every case there is a spiritual dimension to that relationship that needs care and attention. Divorce is a legal parting, but Jesus understood that far more than legal, it is a spiritual bond and not to be taken lightly since the ramifications can be enormous. The anguish and pain caused in the process of divorce and the aftermath for spouses and children, if there are any, cannot be measured, regardless of how necessary the split may be. We can best approach this passage by acknowledging the lasting bond, as painful as it may be and seek the healing grace from God.

Our scriptures are about faith and spirit. They are not science books, or objective history. They are the many expressions of people applying their faith to the world around them and finding God in the midst of struggle and joy. They cannot be taken literally across the board but they hold in them spiritual truths and dimensions that lead us to God's love, healing and peace.

I invite you to focus on passages that cause discomfort and wrestle with them. Bring others in to the conversation and don't get bogged down on the surface, but look beyond to the spirit of the scriptures and the qualities of God they point to and bring us to.

Divorce was the subject of the lessons assigned for the day. I didn't pick them, but I wasn't going to ignore them either. In a short survey of the texts, it's hard to do them justice or come to a neat tidy resolution. Divorce was a topic that Jesus and his followers dealt with in their society, it was an image often used by the prophets in discussing the mercurial relationship between God and Israel.

In the untidiness of our relationships with each other, the animals of creation, the environment God entrusted to us; the untidiness of our relationships with each other, or the one we may have been united to through marriage or commitment, we are called into constant relationship with God who is ever faithful and from whom we can never be parted. Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Blessing of the Animals

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The blessing of animals is one of the more beloved of our traditions here at St. Georges. What a menagerie of pets we have, living and stuffed, each named and precious in the sight and lives of children and adults. Blessing our pets and other animals is a tradition linked to the feast of St. Francis of Assisi because of the legend of that humble saint preaching to the birds. Other legends have him saving a village from the terror of a wolf simply by preaching to it and converting it through love.

Francis also wrote canticles of praise to God whose love extends even to the lowliest of animals. These canticles echo Jesus' words in the parable of Lilies of the Field and the Birds of the air. Jesus said God has numbered each and knows each one's name. And if God takes the care of these smallest of creatures, how much more will God care for us. Even today Francis is venerated and depicted in portraits and statues with a bird and often a deer in testimony to his love of animals. So we bless animals and especially those who fill our lives with love and who inspire love in us. Many of you know that I own a dog. He's a bad dog. Not mean, just spoiled. Whe he was a puppy I took him to obedience school and the teachers took one look at him and said "We can’t train him, he’s too cute." I was confused at first and we went through the classes, and by the way it was me they trained, not him. Training a dog requires consistency and firmness, neither of which are skills I possess.

I discovered what they meant when said he was too cute to train, since even to this day, ten years later when he does something bad like jumping where he shouldn't jump, taking something from the table or trash can that wasn't meant for him, or barks angrily for attention when I'm on the phone, I just look at him and laugh, because he's too cute.

He's as smart as he is bad. The wheels in that head are always turning and his goal is inevitably how to get food. But he is also observant and understands things. For example, when getting dressed in the morning he knows that if I put on blue jeans he's going for a walk and gets very excited. If I put on a suit or a shirt with a collar he knows I'm leaving, and he's not. Then when I leave home I call out to him to be good, an admonition that both of us know will go unobserved, but at least I feel better going through the motions. And just as each time I leave he slinks over to the couch and looks at me like I'm cruel and abandoning him, he's always there when I arrive home thrilled to see me and all is well again.

Animals teach us about love, unconditional love and acceptance -- even when a treat is not being offered. Cats love in a way I don't understand since I'm a dog owner, but they do love in their own mysterious way. Lizards and snakes, I'm not so sure about! I'll speak about dogs then, since I know them best. They delight in making friends on the street and care nothing for their appearance or demeanor, how they're dressed or any of the other indicators that humans will use to make judgements. The simplicity of their love is a wonder and can serve as a reminder that God loves us as unconditionally and fully, regardless of the what others might find objectionable. So we bless our animals who have brought so many blessings to us.

The disciples of Jesus reported to him that they spotted someone casting out demons in his name. They objected to this since that person was not part of their group, was not following Jesus and had no right to use Jesus' name. The disciples were looking for praise and were no doubt satisfied with themselves for doing the right thing.

But Jesus said not to stop him. If he was doing good, leave him alone. "Whoever is not against us is for us." he said. It's so easy to forget that anyone who does good in Jesus' name IS following him, regardless of their member or party affiliation.

Jesus cautions the disciples from putting stumbling blocks in the way of others, especially little ones. In harsh poetic language he said, "If your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off. If your hand offends you, cut it off. If your eye offends you pluck it out."

Sometimes language has to be extreme get our attention and make us listen. This cannot be a literal saying since the hand, foot and eye have no thoughts independent of the mind and soul. But in a deeper sense it means that if anything or anyone who is close to us causes us to betray our values or inspire us to do something we know to be wrong, we have to detatch, disengage, leave, and possibly denounce it or them.

We teach our children not to listen to their friends at school who might tempt them to steal, smoke, take drugs, have sex too early, or cheat. Stay away from them, we say, which is almost the same as cutting off a hand, foot or eye. And if we tell our children to do this, should we not do the same for ourselves? If there is something or someone in our lives, no matter how dear, who leads us down a path we know is wrong, mustn't we cut them off before we lose our esteem, our integrity, our freedom or possibly our lives? The older we get, the higher the stakes and the more important the decisions, and often the harder the resolve to detach, cut off, or cast into the fire of our decisive action that which leads us to stumble. The harsh poetry of the gospel mirrors the harshness of real choices.

Following Jesus isn't always along an easy road, in fact it's usually very difficult. We may nod at the wisdom of these words, and in our hearts know they are true, but how difficult it is to live into them. What are the stumbling blocks we face? What are the things or the people that are dear to us who put our safety or integrity in jepardy? What secrets do we harbor knowing they damage our souls and peace of spirit, what remedies do we imagine taking and yet don't find the courage or strength to take? We can begin to understand why the Gospel language is so strong -- it has to be. It figuratively cuts us, just as it admonishes us to do so linguistically.

Yesterday was the funeral of a very special woman in the life of the Episcopal Church, indeed in the life of the wider church as well. Many will know the name of Verna Dozier, who died Monday at the age of 88. Verna was an English teacher whose love of children and the Bible inspired her one year to accept the challenge to teach Sunday School in her Maryland Episcopal church several decades ago. Not content with the curriculum, she set about to teach the Bible in a way that enlivened it for her students and ultimately led to a career as a writer, speaker and advocate for lay minstry. Often invited to conventions and workshops, her gentle strength and conviction inspired generations, not only to read the Bible, but delve into it, love it, refresh themselves in it and proclaim its good news. He life was a gift to her students and her classroom extended around the world.

She was asked some years ago to preach at the consecration of Jane Dixon, who had been elected Suffragan Bishop of Washington DC. During her sermon she challenged Bishop Dixon to look deep within herself and find that which is in her that needs to be loved by everyone, and let it die. Like the Gospel lesson the sharpness of it stings at first before the healing quality takes hold. Standing up for something will earn the acclaim of some and the enmity of others. The desire to please all, waters down a message to a blandness and ineffectiveness that accomplishes nothing. And yet how many of us want to be loved, or at least liked by everyone to where the expression of displeasure makes us change and contort trying to please?

Ms. Dozier's challenge, like the Gospel's calls our discipleship to a deeper level. Each of us hears that call in our own way and must follow it in our own way. The ways of one will differ from the ways of another, and yet if we are true to the Gospel and ourselves we will bring healing to this broken world. Like the disciples some may try to stop us or we may try to stop others because they don't follow our way, nor we follow their way. But the proof is in the healing. Jesus saw that clearly, he tried to show the disciples and it's a lesson we can well observe and learn from. Healing begins with love. God's love for us and our love for others. As disciples of Jesus we find ways to live out that life of unconditional love in a complicated world where the answers for each of us are unique and not always clear, but worth looking for and living into. In the process we heal others and are healed ourselves from the soul pain and isolation that often plagues us. And if along the way we forget how to love, if the words and examples of the people around us fail or confuse us, we can look to our pets. They always love us no matter what. So smile, God loves you too, no matter what. Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Upon the election of Katharine Jefferts Schori as Presiding Bishop

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the Gospel we just read, "...(T)hey woke him up and said to him, 'Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?'"

The disciples found themselves along with Jesus in a boat far away from shore when a storm kicked up. Jesus was asleep and they were afraid that they would perish. Quite understandably they woke Jesus up hoping that he would be able to do something about this and sure enough he rebuked the wind and stilled the water. He turned to the disciples and asked them why they were afraid, if they still had no faith.

The action Jesus took was astounding, and the question he asked intriguing. Calming a storm at sea is amazing any way you look at it. What is even more amazing is to imply that the disciples could have done it themselves, if they had believed. The power of faith can make wonderful things happen. The presence of fear impedes those very wonders.

The General Convention of the Episcopal Church held in Columbus, Ohio ended this past week and evidenced both wonders achieved in faith and wonders denied through fear. In your bulletin is a flier about our new presiding Bishop. Please take a moment to find it. Please take time to read it, but NOT NOW!

Her name is Katharine Jefferts Schori and currently she is the Bishop of Nevada. By all accounts she was placed on the ballet of four nominees as the token women candidate. After all, she was ordained a priest only twelve years ago and a bishop only five years ago, and some in the country and many outside the country are uncomfortable with women's ordination even though the issue was decided 30 years ago. Besides, at 52 years of age, she's too young for such a role. But there she is, unlikely and yet elected. Her title is "Presiding Bishop-elect." She will be officially installed and her nine year term commences on November 1 of this year at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC.


There are times in the church when the presence of the Holy Spirit is felt more strongly than others. It was by faith that she was elected, and by faith she will exercise her office. At this point the buzz of her election is still going strong. Those who were at convention have come home now and are telling the details in person instead of emails and phone conversations. One story is of the session where all the candidates are given time to make statements and her strong faith and vision, conviction and presence awed and won the House of Bishops which elected her on the fifth ballot.

Regardless of her statements, however, it was a bold move to elect her. I have to believe the house of Bishops, hardly a radical group, voted for her based on her abilities. She has worked within the framework of the international Anglican Communion is smart and sensitive to the issues and spoke boldly. They elected her based on her statement and not to make one. They had to know this would cause a stir and be prepared for it. They stepped out in faith.

The worldwide Anglican Communion who always watches closely, watched even closer at the decisions this time when tensions are running so high. The idea of a woman in the conference room sitting at the table of Anglican Primates, rather than in the gallery, makes many of the old boys uncomfortable. Well, that's just too bad.

Since when has being a Christian been comfortable? It has been a storm since the beginning. The Apostles were visited on the Pentecost day so long ago by rushing winds, their ministries fraught with persecutions and oppression. Generations following them found the same and worse. Christians throughout history responded to calls from God that took them out of comfortable situations and threw them headlong into discomfort. Storms of conscience and conviction have long raged in the spirits and minds of Christians. Comfort has not been promised to anyone. Now if we follow this reasoning of storms raged through convictions, people on both sides of any controversy will claim the rightness of their cause by the faith that motivates them. Those who are saddened by the election of Bishop Jefferts Schori will claim the validity of their objections just as quickly as her supporters will claim the rightness of the election. It wouldn't be a storm if both sides agreed!

"Lord do you not care that we are perishing?" The church appears to be in a mess. The ocean is so big and our boat is so small. Like the disciples we turn to Jesus to sort this out. And Jesus will calm the storm and call to the waves, "Peace." I imagine the disciples still had to bail out some of the water after Jesus calmed the storm, there was still work to be done in the aftermath, and there will be for us. In the calm after this particular storm of convention faith will win out.

Though some do not agree, the overwhelming vote for her in both houses of convention must reflect the stance of the national church whom they represent. The jubilation felt across the church speaks for itself. It was not a statement of defiance to other provinces in the church. The statement made by this election is to move forward in faith where God leads the way. It was a proud moment in the life of the church, an affirmation of God’s love and call to everyone. Convention did a good thing.

However, convention ended on a different tone. The other controversial issue facing convention was the response to the Windsor Report which called for a moratorium on the election of any other openly gay Bishop and the blessing of same sex unions. Many, myself included, hoped this convention would not back away from the bold stance it took three years ago in affirming the election of The Rev. Gene Robinson, an openly gay man in a monogamous relationship, to be a Bishop in New Hampshire. Much like the action it took this year, both houses affirmed his election knowing it would cause a stir. And it did. The storm unleashed by that decision is still felt today very strongly. Perhaps it was stronger than many expected at the time, and they are afraid that we might perish.

The resolution responding to the call from our international brothers and sisters to refrain from electing openly gay and lesbian bishops was introduced in the final day of convention. It took the form of a statement urging all standing committees and Bishops, (those who approve Bishop elections) to refrain from consenting to the election of a Bishop whose "manner of life" is considered objectionable by the international church. It's carefully worded and one can see loop holes a mile wide, but it's still a step backwards in what had been a bold move three years ago. I believe it was a fearful step, and not a faithful step. Our Bishop was one of several who signed a letter of dissent after the resolution was passed, as it backs away from the faith statement three years ago, that gay and lesbian people are equal in the church. Maybe we’re not, at least now.

The storm continues and as such we must still look to Jesus to calm the waters, since like the disciples, we seem to be unable to do it ourselves. All of us have something in the General Convention to find disappointing and yet we all have something to celebrate. In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul said "...if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away, see, everything has become new! All this is from God..." Our lives as Christians calls us into community and prayer. Communities squabble from time to time and so will the Episcopal Church over these and other important issues. But ultimately the God who died and rose again for us, the God who loves us and calls us into covenant is with us. That love will ultimately calm the storm until such time as we discover the faith to confront and make peace of our own storms.

I'll close with a quote from the sermon delivered by Bishop Jefferts Schori the day after her election. "When we know ourselves beloved of God, we can begin to respond in less fearful ways. When we know ourselves beloved, we can begin to recognize the beloved in a homeless man, or rhetorical opponents, or a child with AIDS. When we know ourselves beloved, we can even begin to see and reach beyond the defense of others... We children can continue to squabble over our inheritance. Or we can claim our name and heritage as God's beloveds and share that name, beloved with the whole world." Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Claiming our identity as a progressive church

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The lessons today give us images, metaphors really, for the kingdom of God. In the Gospel of Mark the Kingdom is like seed scattered on the ground which grows in a way that is not known to people, but through the power of God. Or again like a small mustard seed which becomes the largest of all shrubs with strong branches able to house the birds. These are simple images but have a power in their own right to draw our attention to the life giving and abundant love of God. We don't understand it, but we can see it at work and make a home in it.

The arboretum in the first lesson from Ezekiel didn't make out quite so well, however. In this case the tree which grew large enough to house many creatures and provide shade over vast amounts of land actually rivaled the Garden of Eden. This tree, representing Egypt, was cut down however because of its pride and belief that it rivaled God in power and majesty. The prophet Ezekiel was to remind the people of Israel that it is God who creates and sustains, and those who are not rooted in God will topple and to quote contemporary wisdom, the bigger they are, they harder they fall.

When we put these botanical lessons side by side they witness that while we might aspire to be the trees, we are in fact the birds who find shelter in the loving, embracing branches God extends through grace and love.

These lessons are helpful for us this morning as we bless and baptize two sets of twins. We are guiding them to seek and accept God's love and shelter, to nest in that protection without the need to usurp the tree of its height and strength. We as a community of faith are asking them to share the abundance space among the strong branches with other birds and creatures of God who will make their homes too. One of the advantages of a parable is that you can keep going on and on with the metaphor. It's tempting, but I'll refrain.

But I will use this metaphor as a jumping off place to talk about something that I believe we should be paying attention to. Just as the branches of God's love shades and protects the many creatures of God so must the church as a community reflecting God's love. We're blessing Max and Sam and baptizing Noel and Lily into the Christian church within the Episcopal tradition. It's a tradition that at its core has embodied widely differing views on theology, mission and social justice. But we have always used the tension between us to find creative solution or at least peaceful resolution.

This day in Columbus, Ohio, the National Church continues into the second week of what is a ten day convention accomplishing legislative duties. Most of these tasks will have little impact on the life of the church but among the larger issues is one that may very well separate the American Episcopal Church from its fellowship with the worldwide Anglican Communion. That issue is about human sexuality, and more specifically whether or not to ordain openly gay and lesbian people to the priesthood and even more importantly, the Episcopacy. There is also a resolution to create ceremonies to bless same sex unions.

This denomination has long been known for open dialogue, but unfortunately has become too often part of the national trend toward galvanized intolerance. Strong views spoken with uncompromising intent. Judgmental opinions vilifying opponents on both sides of any question. Threats to walk out are made if the vote goes to allow gay and lesbian bishops. People in the pews are also waiting to hear, some making their own plans to walk away if the voting goes one way or another.

I must remind everyone that this is not new territory for the Episcopal Church. Threats of division have been made before: the ordination of women beginning 30 years ago, and before that Civil Rights, before that women's suffrage, before that abolition and before that revolution with England. As a denomination we have weathered each of these threats. This time however, it looks uncertain.

Prejudice has always used scripture as a weapon, and our ability to take the same scriptures and come up with entirely different interpretations is staggering. The rhetoric surrounding the debates becomes dehumanizing and violent. Death threats are made to those who vote in favor or gay ordination. Much of the debate on consecrating gay men and lesbians to the Episcopate began three years ago when Gene Robinson, an openly gay man in a relationship was elected the Bishop of New Hampshire. Death threats did accompany the news and controversy to the point that when Gene went to his own consecration, he did so wearing a bullet proof vest surrounded by FBI agents working undercover for his security.

We sing National Anthems speaking of equality and justice for all, and this reality mocks that ideal. Long before 9/11 terrorists have been in this country as KKK, organized crime, vigilantes and others. The church as institution has to recognize its part in hate mongering and inspiring violence both spiritual and physical against its own members and those outside its fold. Only when we recognize it can we move forward into the Kingdom God calls us to co-create. Our very baptismal vows call us to repent when we are wrong and strive for reconciliation. All of us need to take seriously the voice of faith within us. I mean our own voice.

A while back I heard a poet read a work call "Question Authority." He based this poem on a bumper sticker he'd seen. It's been around a while and occasionally you still see them. He noted that it's important to question authority and not follow blindly. The public can be lied to, and deceived by leaders we want to trust. Questioning authority can be seen as unpatriotic or rebellious. Whole groups can be manipulated with false information, and questioning that same authority is important to validate the information, its sources, conclusions and actions. This is true regardless of governmental or ecclesiastical authorities. However, the poet went on to talk of the danger of questioning only. We might become cynical or use the lack of trust to justify taking no actions whatsoever. It becomes easy to sit back and shoot down any opinion without offering one in response. And that was where the poet took his listeners. To take upon themselves the responsibility to find the information, voice and opinions, and to take actions. To stand up for something. Echoing the words of Malcolm X he said those who stand for nothing will fall for anything. So don’t just question authority, speak with it.

It's into this spirit and dialogue I would like to venture. St. George's is a church that has long broken with conventional ways of doing things. The history of this parish shows efforts and accomplishments in areas of racial justice and equal housing in this and surrounding neighborhoods. We were progressive acting on the role of women in the church, having elected the first woman vestry member in the diocese many years ago, later sponsoring one the first women in the country ordained a priest. One of our members is currently the first woman chancellor of the Diocese. In electing my predecessor as rector, you called the first openly gay man who was ordained. All these "firsts" made successive accomplishments easier. We've sponsored several gay and straight men and women for ordination to the Diaconate and Priesthood, and have a couple more on the launch pad. By the time my election as rector rolled around four years ago, that you elected another openly gay man amid no controversy or fanfare, in a way that could be called "ho-hum" is a sign of progress.

St. George's has taken its prophetic role seriously if not fully articulating it. We have lived it. I want us now to own it publicly and fully. We are a progressive and liberal Christian church. We think critically and strive to make informed decisions in our theology and mission. We do not hold that the Bible is the inerrant word of God. It is the living word of God. Inspired by faith and written by people living in a world they tried to make sense of just as we do today. Their writing is wisdom born of their experience and faith. Its praise and worship is sincere for its context and instructive for us as a basis on which to understand our own world and issues. We have brains and we have voice. We cannot abdicate either in our faith or practice.

Earlier this week in a conversation with one of our wardens, he mentioned that he would be away at the graduation of his nephew. He mentioned that his nephew went to a Christian College. Well, so did I. The college I went to was Holy Cross in Massachusetts, a college founded by Jesuits in the Roman Catholic tradition. But you and I both know that's not what was meant. And I believe that's the sad crux of our dilemma. All too often, the word "Christian" in today's world refers more commonly to a fundamentalist, conservative branch of Christianity. While I will not deny that they are Christian, I will not stand for them denying that I am. The liberal, progressive church has abdicated much by way of word and symbol to another part of the Christian faith to the point where the loudest voice in the national pulpit belongs to the fundamentalists and radical conservatives. We have to speak out with a voice that balances and demonstrates that Christians can disagree and still claim their faith in the same God.

This parish is such a place. I believe we have a mission to speak out and take a place in the open public for those who question the authority and have the courage and preparation to speak with it. Further, to recognize that even then are the thoughts and ideas are wrestled with and conclusions arrived at, that even members in our own parish will not be of one mind on all given topics. We have members who are liberal and conservative. And that makes us traditionalists. So if anyone asks you if you are a traditionalist, tell them proudly, yes!

Claim words and symbols that are common property to all people of faith and especially those that are Christian. Debate them, use them and by all means witness to them.

I have been in gatherings that get a little heated when some will wonder how I can be gay and allowed to be a priest. Others who are gay will ask how I can be part of an institution that denies our full rights; questions the legitimacy of our being. The answer to both who wonder how I live in what appears to them to be a contradiction is that I am a priest of God exercising my ministry in an institution that is far from perfect but trying hard to be faithful. My faith and ministry transcends denominational boundaries. I worship a God who loves me as I am even as I live among people who may not be able to. God can make sense out of the contradictions and constructs that bring us to battle each other. That's part of my story.

The world is full of contradictions and always has been. After the service today there's a forum to be held sponsored by the Absalom Jones Committee led by one of the authors of a book about slavery in the North called "Complicity: How the North Promoted, Prolonged and Profited From slavery." No doubt we’ll hear about conflicts and contradictions. Today is Father's Day. Many people have conflicted and complicated relationships with their fathers.

We cannot escape these realities or the histories of them. We have got to meet them head on, openly and honestly even when it's hard and painful. Support each other when we need strength and repent when we have made errors. As Paul says, we walk by faith, not by sight.

Shortly we'll bless Sam and Max. They are from an interfaith family where their father is Jewish and their mother Christian. They are not being baptized but receiving a blessing. As they grow we will support them in their journey towards weaving together the two rich traditions they are part of which can be a model for the rest of us. When we renew our own baptismal covenant, bless Sam and Max and baptize Noel and Lily we are not sparing them from the complexities of the world, but giving them the strength and consolation of a vigorous faith in which to proclaim God’s truth with boldness and minister God’s justice with compassion. Amen.

© 2006 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Annual Meeting Sunday

By Ulysses Dietz, Senior Warden

Today's scripture was all about water, and about being called into a covenant with God symbolized by water. In Genesis God called Noah to build the ark and save his family from the Flood. God's rainbow was his guarantee that he would never again abandon humankind. The Epistle of Peter reiterates that covenant, comparing the Flood to baptism (which is a creative way to think about it) just as baptism is God's call to us to be cleansed of our sins and get ready to do God's work. The Gospel focused on Jesus' own baptism in the Jordan, and his call to go into the wilderness in preparation for his final call: to give himself in sacrifice to save all of us. What strikes me particularly about these parallel stories is that neither Noah nor Jesus remotely wanted to do what they were called to do. We don't always answer God's call willingly.

We are baptized, most of us, without our consent. We are called to be part of God's covenant with mankind for our own good by our families. It is later, first at confirmation, and then when we join a church as adults, that we are called to fulfill the promise of that baptism; to live into the covenant with God that baptism represents.

Each of us is called to do the work God has given us to do. We are not, however, called to do all that work flawlessly. And there is often a substantial difference between what we are called to do and what we want to do. In some ways that lifelong tension between what we are called to do and what we want to do defines us as humans.

This past Thursday evening, as I was setting up for a funeral, I was standing up at the high altar, smoothing the fair linen down after having changed the frontal from purple to white. My cell phone rang. It was the marketing director at The Newark Museum, urgently trying to find me to ask me to write up something that night for a promotional collaboration with the NJ Performing Arts Center for next year. Something about trying to connect a show about the Rat Pack (you know, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin?) with an exhibition I'm planning on contemporary studio glass in 2007. Somehow I had trouble seeing the connection.

This week at work I was also called to draft a letter for my boss to take to Governor Corzine to sign, to try to convince the CEO of a huge corporation not to sell of part of the Lenox China archives at auction, because we think it should stay in New Jersey. And I had to draft a fact sheet so that my boss could explain to the governor why we are asking him to sign the letter. In the meantime, I was trying to work on the text and labels for an exhibition of jewelry (called Objects of Desire) that I'm opening in early May, and I also had to finalize the checklist and text panels and label copy for a huge exhibition of 20th-century ceramics from the Museum's collection that opens next week in a corporate art gallery in New York -- which I spent all day Friday installing, and which I will spend all day Monday installing. And I had to assemble the slides and write the script for a lecture I'm giving on the evolution of the American home at a Drew University fundraiser next Sunday afternoon. And on Wednesday I had to visit an elderly couple in Teaneck, whose middle-aged daughter is dying and who therefore want to leave the museum the collection of art pottery they had intended to leave to her.

And I was called this week to leave work early to take my son to get his next round of braces and learn how to crank up his palette expander each night for the next six weeks; and to go into work late so Gary and I could meet with our daughter's teachers and discuss how we're going to arrange her special education resources at school next year; and help her through the fourth-grade-build-a-model-of-the-solar-system project; and celebrate our son's 10th anniversary of his arrival from Guatemala; and try to teach Gracie what a perimeter is, even though she totally didn't get it; and sit and do long division problems with Alex, even though he totally does get it and just likes me to do the work with him. And I was called to sit and watch the Daily Show with Gary at 11:00 each evening, which is virtually the only time we have alone together on any given day.

St. George's called me to do the flowers for church last Sunday, and clean up after the eight-o'clock service; and count the money with Kirk Petersen after the service (did we ever get the bank key back?); and during the week I needed to set up three Ash Wednesday Eucharist services for Bernie, as well as the funeral I mentioned before; and then I had to gather the biographies I'd forgotten to gather last week for the candidates for vestry for whom you'll be voting this morning; and poll the vestry about who would bring what for the lunch you'll be eating after this service; And also wash and iron a load of altar linens from last week, which I brought in this morning. Oh, and write this sermon.

And that was just last week. It reminds me of a T-shirt I saw once. On the front it said:

GOD PUT ME ON THIS EARTH
TO ACCOMPLISH A
CERTAIN NUMBER OF THINGS.

And on the back it read:

I AM SO FAR BEHIND
I WILL NEVER DIE.

We all feel this way sometimes. Perhaps too much of the time.

Beginning with our baptismal covenant, we make covenants in many aspects of our lives. We make a covenant with our employer (ok, a contract), by which we are bound to serve and for which we receive money. Unfortunately, employers sometimes don't see their covenant with us in quite the same terms that God does.

We make a covenant with our friends; and with our spouses; and when we are called to parenthood, we make a very special covenant with those children. (When you adopt, that covenant is made quite literal by the adoption process, but it only underscores the truth for anyone who is charged with the welfare of a child). These covenants with people are, to me, the most important covenants we make in our lives, for in them we most closely emulate God's covenant with us.

When we, as Christians and Episcopalians, become members of a parish; we are called to enter into a covenant with a community. We are called to live out our baptismal covenant with God by being part of that community. Notice that on the weekly bulletins that all the people of St. George's are called its ministers. We say that for a reason. Without all of you -- you sitting here in this building now and those St. Georgians who are somewhere else right now -- there would be no St. George's. A church is defined by its people; the priest may set the tone, but without the people he or she is just a lonely soul in an empty building. How each of us answers our call to do this part of God's work defines what St. George's is today, and what it will be in the future.

Some of us are called simply to go to church on Sunday. That is a precious calling in this secular world, where it sometimes seems that only fundamentalists and the extremely orthodox go to church regularly. This is to me a terribly important way to live out our baptismal covenant. However, as well all know, perfect attendance in church won't get the work done and it won't pay the bills. That is why we are called to be ministers and not only worshipers.

Some of us are called to get involved in Parish ministries, committees and task forces; ranging from staging Broadway shows to Bible study, to hosting coffee hour to knitting afghans to washing and ironing the altar linens. Some of us are called by a specific talent to, say, sing in the choir or sit on the Capital Projects Committee. Some of us, because of our particular skills, are called to avoid anything that remotely resembles what we do in "real life." Some of us are called to try out different things at St. George's over time; others to do various different things all at the same time. And, luckily for us all, some of us are called to be leaders, and to chair ministries and committees and task forces -- and to run for Vestry.

The Year 2005 at St. George's was an amazing year. We as a parish were called to do a tremendous amount of God's work. A wide variety of Centennial events filled the calendar, and if that wasn't enough, we embarked upon the first year of a three-year capital campaign, to raise money so that we can begin to transform this group of old buildings into a place where we can all live out our baptismal covenant more effectively and in community with each other.

We have, so far, managed to gather pledges to the tune of $660,000 for the capital campaign. While this won't let us accomplish everything we have dreamed of doing with our church and our parish hall and our resource center, it will certainly get us well along the road to fulfill our dreams for the future.

Perhaps most amazing to me is the fact that our centennial year was also the most brutal year in my memory in terms of global natural disasters; and from the pews in this parish we also raised some $20,000 in special charitable contributions to assist those in this world who have suffered.

And on top of all of this, the people of St. George's have been called to pledge some $270,000 in stewardship, to keep the lights on and the phones answered and the floors mopped for 2006. Part of that stewardship pledge will help St. George's keep its covenant with the Diocese of Newark; and in turn that will help the Diocese keep its covenant with the National Episcopal Church. We here at St. George's are part of a global covenant.

We are called to do many things to live out our baptismal covenant with God. But only God can give us the will to do that work in all its different aspects, with our time, with our talents, and with our money. Not everything that we want to do will get done in 2006. There are things that each of us might like to see happen this year that simply won't happen. This is true in our work lives; this is true in our home lives; and this is true in our lives as ministers of St. George's. This is not failure. This is reality. We can only do what we have the will to do.

Each week in the post communion prayer we ask God to "send us out into the world to do the work you have given us to do." This is not a guarantee that we will accomplish everything we want to do, or even everything we need to do. But it is a guarantee that God will be with us each step of the way. The moment that sacred water was poured on our heads in baptism, we received that guarantee.

For me, it is this guarantee of God's unwavering love that lets me face each day sure that, whether I succeed or fail, I will not be doing it alone.

Amen.

© 2006 Ulysses Dietz