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