Christmas Eve

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel reading brings us once again to the stable in Bethlehem. With the shepherds we hear the angels tell of wondrous things and in our minds eye and hearts journey we too go to the stable to see if all they said is true and upon finding it is so, worship.

They and we worship God in thanksgiving for a love so immense to join us in our humanity. It's hard to imagine what that means, that God becomes human, but there it is, the fact of this baby's birth who came to change the world. Even the most cynical of people has to admit that this baby did alter the course of human events, gave us a benchmark of life to measured before and after.

The Shepherds looked in the stable and saw the baby, and saw in the flesh their hope for a better world, a world of peace, a world without fear, a world in which the order they had only dreamed about was restored.

What do you see on this Christmas Eve night as you go to the stable and look over the sill into the life of the Holy Family. As Mary holds the baby to her, so new to the world and yet at the same time eternally ancient. As she holds this paradox, gurgling and vulnerable, what are we looking for? What hope resides in this little being for us?

I think we have endless expectations. For each of us in need, pain or fear we look to this baby as hope for a return to a normal way of life. A time when fear or grief or pain didn't exist. But if we look for that, I think we will be disappointed. God never, in all scriptures, goes backward to a time once inhabited, but rather leads people into a new place beyond the old world. Isaiah described it in this way, "The people in darkness have seen a great light." The light is a beacon to a place of new beginnings and new hope. A place to start again, where faith and intention can link and create new and healthy possibilities.

Perhaps that is always the best hope of all, that there will be a future. God's promise in all scripture is to open our eyes to see His love unfold among those who are open to it and allow themselves to be used for it. They spread the word, as the disciples of Jesus did later on, that God is in the world and active, living, breathing, and among us to bring us to a higher place.

This isn't always an easy message to hear. There is so much violence in the world -- physical, emotional, spiritual. War rages, terrorism infiltrates every corner of societies around the world. And terrorists are not just those in the Middle East who strap bombs to themselves. Terrorists exist right here in our own land, in gangs, organized crime, vigilantes, and those who discriminate against others preventing their employment, living situations, marriage rights, or any other immoral exercise of power.

We look to churches and houses of faith for comfort and direction and sadly even the church has it's struggles and divisions with varying degrees of pain and confusion.

It's precisely into this world that God comes in human form. Precisely to bring hope that is needed. The hope is to learn a way to live in this world peacefully and justly.

There is a story that after World War II, German students went to England to help rebuild a Cathedral that had been damaged in the German bombings. Among the rubble they found a statue of Jesus and as they worked on its repair, they were unable to find or restore the hands of the statue. They discussed the dilemma and decided to leave the hands off the statue, putting an inscription on the base that was inspired by the written works of St. Theresa of Avila in the late 1600's. They wrote, "Christ has no hands but ours."

The full text of St. Theresa's prayer goes like this:

Lord Christ, You have no body on earth but ours,
No hands but ours,
No feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes through which your compassion
Must look out on the world.
Ours are the feet by which you may still
Go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which You bless people now.
Bless our minds and bodies,
That we may be a blessing to others.

The prayer is a beautiful gift given to us by St. Theresa. It gives expression and movement to the hope inside us to make the world better than it is.

We are the hands, the feet, the compassion and heart of God. It is that part of the spirit of God living within us that calls to be born, no screams out to be born and to grow. We are at our best when we give of ourselves, and God is able to use us each day to stand for justice and love in the worlds in which we live and move and have our being.

The true message of Christmas is perhaps not so much that God came into the world, but that God resides in each of us waiting to be born anew. St. Paul says that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. If that is true, there is something of God in us that calls us into a deeper awareness of what it means to be alive.

One of the ministries at St. George's is healing prayer. It's doesn't have the flash and dazzle of crutches being tossed away, nor the sale of potions to cure any illness. It's a form of prayer that seeks to heal the spirit. I think most people have heard of the ways in which our emotional state can impact our physical state, for example one's anxiety can cause high blood pressure and it's related problems. Or stress can cause ulcers. There are many ways in which we can demonstrate the connection between body, mind and spirit. The healing prayer is a way of healing the spirit from pain and distress that may or may not have physical manifestations. Spiritual pain and illness is real in itself an in need of healing. The prayers for healing are offered after communion at a couple stations near the rail and if you haven't stopped by, I urge you to do so sometime. If you've never done this before, when you kneel at the prayer desk you can ask for a specific prayer about something that is on your mind or connected to someone you love. You may even just ask for a general prayer. Praying with and for each other is one of the main works of the church community. It is a sacrament of healing offered by and for people as children of God, loved by God and seeking to love God in as deep way as possible. Prayer honors the Spirit of God in each of us and as we are healed we can become healing agents in a world so much in need of it.

God came into the world to heal the world, and that baby in the manger is also born in us through our desire to be part of that healing. It is a wonder and a miracle. It is a blessing and a gift to be received and given freely. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Fourth Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid..."

The Advent stories largely deal with the characters of John the Baptist and Mary. John, because he heralds the coming of the Christ as an adult and Mary because she said "Yes" when the angel came to announce that she would bear the child of God. In different times and different ways, these two characters fit so closely in theme to the coming of the Christ and the fulfillment of God's promise to the world.

This week in Advent another character takes the foreground. Joseph. Joseph is usually a shadow figure in the Gospels. He is referred to in only a few places, notably in the birth narratives escorting Mary to Bethlehem and being part of the caravan when Jesus was twelve and left behind by mistake in Jerusalem. He's never even given any lines. The most attention he is ever given is in this small story. And yet it is a rich story and tells us a lot about the man God entrusted to take care of Mary and Jesus.

Consider Joseph for a while. Traditions say that Joseph was probably older than Mary at the time of their engagement. As such he would have had more say in their wedding than Mary did in those days of arranged marriages. It's reasonable to assume that he wanted the marriage and was looking forward to it. It's also reasonable to imagine his shock, disappointment, and perhaps shame at the news of her pregnancy.

He could have reacted in different ways. He could have been enraged and had her stoned to death as an adulteress. It was within his rights and might have assuaged some sense of public humiliation. Just as she had a reputation, so did he. Her reputation was ruined by being pregnant before her marriage, but his could have been salvaged by some public and righteous outrage. Placing all the blame for this situation on her could have made him into the victim and allowed him to maintain some respect in the eyes of his neighbors.

It could have gone that way, but Matthew describes him as "righteous man." Being righteous he came to the merciful and loving decision to divorce her quietly. Others would no doubt find out about her pregnancy, but by then he would have been out of the picture, and safe from ridicule. It's clear from the decision he made that he truly loved her and wanted to see no harm come to her, not even at the expense of a contained scandal. For someone who cared that much, the decision had to be agonizing. Still, he made it in as merciful a way as he could and finally went to sleep.

The Bible has a long list of people who went to sleep and encountered God in their dreams. It's not hard to imagine. Sometimes our heads are so full of noise we wouldn't be able to hear God if we tried. Meditation practices even today are so hard because we have the voices and noise in our heads competing for attention. Thoughts like monkeys in the trees, as it's been said. We quiet down at night and when we're asleep the conscious thoughts take a break and the unconscious thoughts finally have a chance.

So, it seems, does God. There was another Joseph in the Bible for whom dreams were important. This Joseph, known to us as the one who was given a coat of many colors, also dreamed and interpreted dreams. I suspect the writer of Matthew thought of him as he wrote.

And an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins."

And Joseph did as the angel said.

Consider Joseph. He came to a crossroads and made a choice out of love for Mary and in faith that the angel who came to him in a dream was real and not some imaginary being or dream allegory. Just as Mary had come to a place of believing something utterly fantastic -- so did Joseph. Mary was called to bear the child. Joseph was called to protect and raise the child with her. He was called to adopt the child.

Some of you will remember that two of the Gospels include genealogies demonstrating Jesus' lineage since he was supposed to be a descendant of the great King David. The problem is that in both cases the genealogy leads to Joseph, not Mary, and we see the problem there. However in the law of the Israelites, even more so than our own culture, adoption was as good as blood relations. If a man claimed a child as his own, that sealed it. Joseph claimed Jesus as his son, and that made it so. It took courage for Joseph to do that and he did it.

The issue of adoption is one many of us can relate to. In this parish, indeed in all of Maplewood, there is a high proportion of adopted children. It is a wonderful and exciting characteristic of both parish and neighborhood. And the bonds of adoption are tight. When an adoptive parent says, "This is my daughter" or "This is my son," it is so. Adoptions come after much soul searching, discernment and total commitment to a radical lifestyle in every way that couples who choose to have children biologically make. It takes hard work to accomplish it and a commitment of time. When I was growing up, as I imagine many of you will remember, discovery that a child was adopted had a level of stigma attached. It was a secret shame in some respects or simply one of those things that wasn't talked about. The pride and love so evident and celebrated is a mark of how far we have come in valuing God's children from all over the world. So, three cheers for adoptive parents and adoptive communities that embrace them.

In this spirit, we see Joseph adopting Jesus and fully embracing him without fear or shame. And his life became determined by that decision.

Advent and Christmas are a time to consider this particular adoption, and perhaps like Joseph to wrestle with what it means to adopt Jesus into our family -- into ourselves- and change our lives. Having a child is not a part time job, neither is claiming one. The power of God's love is totally transforming and even when the full meaning of that reality is sometimes obscure, the life we live is a way of bringing clarity to that realization. The angel told Joseph not to be afraid and that same message is to us also. Do not be afraid to adopt this child, because it was conceived by the Holy Spirit and God is with you.

The methods of adopting in today's society are clear, even though lengthy and difficult. It's not always as clear about how to adopt Jesus. It comes first with a decision that it's time to embrace Him in what he taught us about God's love, acceptance and following a way of life that leads us to do what we believe to be just, merciful and humble. In our dealings with others and how we treat ourselves as brothers and sisters also loved and adopted by God. It's simple, but not always easy.

In one of his Epistles, Paul wrote that we are children of God's by adoption and grace. This theme clearly plays from time to time in scriptures and speaks to the closeness of the relationship between God and all God's children. We are truly and deeply loved by God. We are God's children though adoption called to enter a world of fantastic belief in the power of God's love and the leaving behind of the fear and shame that might prevent us from embracing it. Joseph does not need to be a figure who remains in the shadows, but one who is an important witness to the courage to adopt Jesus. Sometimes it is clear, sometimes there is a night of wrestling. Sometimes we fall and need to be reminded to try again and again if necessary, but not to give up. Angels are persistent, and they deliver the messages of a persistent God. Consider Joseph and adopt the baby. Do not be afraid. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Third Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" This question from John the Baptist comes as a surprise. Earlier in the record of Matthew's gospel John met Jesus at the Jordan and baptized him. At that time he seemed to recognize Jesus as the Chosen One and in fact tried to prevent Jesus from being Baptized by him. He instead tried to have Jesus baptize him.

It was a wonderful moment of fulfillment. Jesus told him, "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness." Then John consented. He immersed Jesus in the waters of the Jordan river and as Jesus came back on the banks of the river the heavens opened and a voice was heard to say "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased."

This appearance of Jesus and brief encounter with John was full of the promise of the prophets. It was a time of announcement and discovery. John spent so much time denying that he was the Messiah, and telling people that the Chosen One was coming later. And here it was. The time was fulfilled. Jesus began him ministry after the Baptism, after the fasting and solitude in the desert and temptations by the Devil. He began by teaching and healing.

John, on the other hand, was interrupted in his ministry. He had criticized Herod for marrying his brother's wife and for this he was put in prison. People in authority do not like to be publicly criticized and there is a long tradition for leaders who put critics in prison. And there John heard about Jesus in a way that was detached.

Odd then, that he would send his disciples to Jesus to ask him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for anther?" What happened to John's resolve? What happened to the clarity he had at the Jordan River? Something caused him to wonder if he had been mistaken. Perhaps it was that Jesus didn't meet John's expectation. Like most of the Israelites, John spent much time expecting the Messiah and no doubt forming ideas about what the Messiah would be like and what he would do.

Like most of the Israelites Jesus encountered over time, after the initial splash of excitement, they had doubts and wondered. Ultimately that doubt would lead to a cross, but I get ahead of myself.

Jesus reminds the disciples of John what the Messiah was sent to do -- give sight to the blind, make the lame to walk, cleanse lepers, raise the dead and give good news to the poor. He concludes by saying "Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." It is a reminder to John that the Messiah is here to heal and reconcile those in need to God. And in that moment of Grace similar to the moment at the banks of the Jordan River, it is John who needs that word of hope. It is John who needs healing and it is John who needs Good news.

The lessons of Advent are collections of words of hope to people in need of believing, who for whatever reason either grow tired of waiting or have their expectations frustrated. Even John the Baptist wondered if he should be looking for another.

What do we do when our expectations and patience for God are stretched beyond what we are comfortable with? When God dos not act in the way we think He should? Or have our priorities? We don't have to look too far to see those who have indeed gone looking elsewhere. I don't think it's dishonest to say that we ourselves at one time or another have wondered if we're wasting our time and that this can't be the one after all. There are times for all of us when we think that perhaps we must look for another.

These happen at low points in our lives. We may not be like John in an actual prison, but it's not too far off the mark to say that periods of frustration and doubt can be prisons of their own. Periods of grief and illness, periods of physical, emotional or psychic pain -- each of these can be prisons. Perhaps John wondered why Jesus didn't come to get him out. If I had been John and done all the advance work for Jesus' appearance I think I would have had some expectations of Jesus helping out a little bit with the local Amnesty International Chapter. John's probable lament of "Hey, what about me?" is echoed in the voice of any person whose life long beliefs and good works seem to merit special attention from God. When that special attention or intervention doesn't come in a timely or desired fashion, doubt creeps in. Maybe I should look for another. This implies that "another" would certainly do what I want.

Most of you know how the story ends for John the Baptist. It wasn't a happy ending. While in prison, the wife of Herod that John had criticized conspired to have him killed and in fact John was beheaded while in prison. On thing we can say about the Bible is that they don't sugar coat their stories. It's real life in a time that was brutal. We live in times that are also tough and often brutal. War to corporate crime, to young people with guns shooting and killing innocent people in public places. Brutality and injustice seem to thrive and our expectations of the Chosen One shift to the needs of our culture. And the promises we've been given seem to weaken in the wake of our painful realities.

Still, for each brutal act from the killing of John the Baptist to the murder of innocents in a midwestern mall there are acts of kindness and hope that meet the challenges and responds of love to the victims and families. Those who are cripples by grief are made to walk again in time. Those who are blinded by anger or fear are given sight to see beyond their pain and fear. Those who have died in their loss of hope are resurrected with a new sense through the love of God working in each of us for good. And all who are poor in spirit have good news preached to them. This happens through God's love and grace. We live in a world that is not immune to suffering, but even in that suffering God is present and leads us beyond. God also took on suffering, not only the cross, but the doubt and betrayal of friends and disciples.

Jesus was clear in his identity and his mission and as such continues as a beacon to all of us who would allow the pain and disappointments of this world to bring us down.

Advent is a time of expectant energy. It is a time to remind ourselves through the stories of our scriptures and ancestors in the faith to remain open and hopeful. To remember that eve in times of crippling doubt and the prisons of despair that we do see the blind recieving their sight and lame walking and the lepers cleansed, the dead raised. We are the poor who have good news to bring. And we are blessed in this. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Second Sunday of Advent

By Mary Davis, Seminarian Intern

Matthew 3:1-12

Today's Gospel reading introduces us to the very familiar biblical character of John the Baptist. We meet him every year in Advent, since all 4 Gospels unanimously proclaim John as the official herald to the Messiah, the prophet for whom the prophets foretold would "Prepare the way of the Lord."

But what does this edgy, rough-and-tumble prophet have to say to us today? What is his message for us here, at St. George's, thousands of years later and thousands of miles from the wilderness path about which he spoke? This question made me want to dig for more about John the Baptist, but it also led me to wonder what John the Baptist might look like here, in our context, today. So, imagine with me, if you will, that standing just outside these doors is John the Baptist. Let's go meet him.

John certainly doesn't look like us. He's rough around the edges, just as you might imagine an ascetic from the desert might look (and smell!), but just the same, he is the first bona fide, genuine voice of God that we've heard in years. Hordes of people can't help themselves but flock to him, and we are no exception. But it's kind of like coming upon the scene of an accident, some slow down and look, while others move out of the way. For the words he uses are beyond frank, in fact they're downright scary. Who talks like this today? Says things like "flee from the wrath to come" (3:7) which was in our Gospel reading today, and describes our beloved and tame 21st century Jesus as holding a "winnowing fork" which will separate the wheat from the chaff to be burned "with unquenchable fire?" (7:12) John's words, appearance and smell make me, personally, want to walk a little faster, and not hang around for his message. I consider running to the other side of the street, in an attempt to avoid John's odd behavior and powerfully challenging words. But my curiosity plants my feet firmly in front of him.

Although John's method and message pose danger to him physically, the danger he knowingly faces doesn't seem to altar his message any. His message to us, on this day, is quite clear. He wants us to Repent. "Repent!" he yells, and we all take a step backward. I look around at all the other people, and act as if he were speaking to them, not me. It's hard to look at him, but harder yet, to listen to him. He's surprised at finding us today, so concerned with Christmas gifts, decorating and entertaining and this only serves as fuel for his repeated cries, "Repent!" As I begin to think about my own list-making, my gift-giving, and my entertaining priorities in this busy Advent season, I realize John's calls to repent are aimed at me. My Advent bears little resemblance to John's other cry, "bear fruit worthy of repentance." (3:8)

Some of the people respond, "But it's so easy to be swept up in this gift-giving and gift-receiving frenzy," while some other brave soul acknowledges our temptation to welcome only those whom affirm and love us to our holiday gatherings. Out loud, I wonder, "Perhaps we do have something to repent, but can't we participate in the secular Christmas and still find the Messiah?"

John continues on, undaunted by our skeptical tone and says, "You invite and welcome carefully chosen friends and family to your table this time of the year, but I wonder how many of you are aware of those who are hidden in the peripheries of pews here? Or equally important, have you considered those who are sporadic in their attendance here? Have you thought about who is not here at all, and why? These people, including the ones in your own families, who make you want to metaphorically "run to the other side of the street," are my fellow prophets who often have the most interesting stories to tell and are important voices to hear. They challenge your notions of harmony and peace the most, but also reveal to us a different face of God. Repent that you want to "run across the street." "Repent, and turn to face them," John the Baptist continues. "Your call this Advent is to be peacemakers of the Kingdom and open your hearts and lives to those who challenge you. It's just one more way to "Make the path straight" before being able to embrace our Messiah who comes soon!"

Finally, exasperated by our questioning looks, the Prophet lifts his hands high to the heavens, "We have Abraham as our ancestor (3:9), nothing is impossible for our God. Repent (3:2) - turn back to God, again and again, and again and again, because in order to greet Jesus on Christmas Day this year, you must first turn around and face the messiness in your lives; the messiness which is found in those whose faces are different, who ruffle our outer as well as our inner feathers. Only then can we find the Messiah who promises to baptize us with the Holy Spirit and with fire!

With that, John finishes his teaching, and turns to walk to the other side of the street, approaching those who really did cross over.

So ends our imaginary encounter with this rogue prophet. I understand his message because honestly, there's not much mystery to his words in this Gospel. But this doesn't make it any easier to hear or to follow John's message. And in case you're thinking that the only way we can encounter "John the Baptist" is through our imagination, think again, because, I bumped into my "own" John the Baptist just last month at Drew University. He (John) was a she, in the form of a classmate of mine in my Wednesday class this semester. This class always begins with a few minutes of sharing time. The Professor opens with the question, "how is it with your soul?" And one by one, my classmates share about their weeks, both spiritually and personally.

On one particular week, I was struggling with life at home and the weight of mothering my children with little to no respite help. The weight of my son's unclear future also added to my burden. After sharing this piece of my soul, a woman in the class pointed her finger at me and said, "the reason no one has come to your side to offer help is because of your judgmental nature." My jaw was on the ground. I was impaled, and I found no words for response. Her words haunted me for weeks. I cried because of them and then wrestled with them. I asked myself and others, "Who talks like this today?" "Who really says things like this?!"

Then a few weeks later, our professor opened class again, with the same question, "how is it with your soul?" This time, a different woman shared her present situation. She was confused and conflicted by her roots in the Baptist Church which damned her for questioning her sexual identity. She carefully described her pain, using the words from King David's lament in Psalm 31, "Be kind to me God - I'm in deep, deep trouble again. I've cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs. My troubles have worn me out." Her pain was palpable and her anguish real. Most of us in the room were speechless or simply prayed silently. But then, the same woman who had wagged her finger at me just a few weeks earlier began to speak. She spoke words of comfort and respect, and then said, "no matter what path you take, or whatever you decide, the truth is - God wants us to be free." Again, she repeated, "God wants you to be free!"

This was someone that, weeks before, I had been unable to look at, much less listen to, a person who had basically lumped me in with the Pharisees and Sadducees John described as the "brood of vipers" (3:7). But she was now speaking words of hope, promise and freedom. She was John the Baptist to me. I didn't want to look and I didn't want to listen. Although it was a painful realization, I realized I had judged and rejected well-meaning offers of help. And she spoke the truth.

Jesus' message at Christmas is, in fact, "you're free!" Sit with that today and in this season of Advent. You are free. Free from fear. Free from guilt. Free to love. But in order to find and celebrate this message, we must first face the prophets in our own lives who are like John the Baptist. These prophets make us uncomfortable, but when we listen to them, we are preparing the way of the Lord, and we will be ready to openly greet our Messiah at Christmas. Only then will we be able to live into and celebrate the freedom that Christ brings.

© 2007 Mary Davis

Homily for the Ordination of Christian Carroll to the Priesthood

By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

Numbers 11:16-17, 24-25
Philippians 4:4-9
John 6:35-38

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.... The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." May I speak in the name of the Living God. Amen.

We come here today in this season pregnant with transforming grace to make our request known to God. We come expectantly: to ask God to send down his Holy Spirit upon Chris and make her "a priest in Christ's holy catholic church." We come, just as Moses and the 70 elders came to the tent of meeting - that the Holy One might "talk to [us] here," might take some of the Spirit that God has given to those called to lead God's people in the past and put it on Chris. It is, as it was in the book of Numbers, a one-time event. It is, like baptism, unrepeatable, indelible, an eternal change.

People sometimes refer to ordination as being "set apart." We clergy find that somewhat flattering until we find out that "set apart" can quickly become "set aside." "A priest is not 'set apart,'" Dean Fenhagen of General Seminary used to tell us with some frequency, "but 'set within.' Priests only make sense 'within' a community of faith" - whose life they are called to nurture by Word and Sacrament and within whom they stand as icons of the sacred calling to sacrificial love and service to which the whole Body is called. (The Rev. Jim Fenhagen, paraphrased from conversations with him at GTS, 1985-1988, author of Mutual Ministry.) Ordained ministry is not 'set apart' from lay ministry but set alongside it in a relationship of mutual ministry - as the dean's book on the subject was later called. We're all in this together.

It is such a leap of faith what we do today - on your part, Chris, and on ours! We ordain you to be a minister of Word and Sacrament among us: Word in a world where words can so easily seem just words; Sacrament in a world of such suffering that water, a bit of bread, a sip of wine, the touch of a thumb in oil can seem small indeed. Still against all odds, with a certain disarming foolishness, we do what Christians have always done: taken certain people of our community, set them in the midst and called upon God to empower them to help midwife us into the full measure of the stature of Christ. We say to them: live out among us what we say we believe.

Beneath the surface of things we believe that God created us in love, by love, for love - that God is with us, for us, just as we are not as we might have been. We believe God is at work in our lives blessing, healing and transforming us - turning guilt into gratitude, fear into forgiveness, birthing joy from the wreckage of despair. We believe we have a mission in the world, that our lives serve a larger purpose, that we have a destiny beyond the merely personal having been knit together into the Body of the Risen Christ and filled with his Spirit and sent in his power.

We believe that there is more to life than meets the eye. But it is easy to forget that we believe that because what meets our eye is war in Iraq and Afghanistan and shootings in a mall in Omaha. What meets our eye is homelessness and hunger, racism, sexism, and bias against those who differ from us, politics fueled by expedience and self interest, blatant disregard and contempt for the least, the lost, the lonely and the left behind. We see all this but we believe something else. We hope something else and we need your help in remembering it.

Chris, please stand up. We're not ordaining you to run a church - though churches need running and some of those tasks you'll do. We're ordaining you because the community needs help in keeping its memory and its hope alive and you're it. You're the one God sent. "Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and his glory," the old hymn goes. "Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and his love." That is your vocation among us: to remind us of whom we are and whose we are, to keep us from veering off into lives of fantasy, futility or despair, to keep what we believe in our hearts, by the grace of God, before our eyes.

Be on the lookout for grace among us. Show us where you see green points poking up out of the ground - and do your best to keep us from stepping on them. Look for your story within THE story and help us to do the same. Help us to see ourselves as God sees us not perfect but "very good" - "and God looked at everything that God had made and lo it was very good." Encourage us. Challenge us. For goodness sake, do us all a favor and shake us out of our individualistic mindset - introduce us to the fact that we have some 20 centuries of company steeped in this same life giving scripture, seeking this same obedience to Christ, sustained by this same saving life giving bread and wine. We are never in this alone no matter how it may appear to any one of us from time to time. In a similar vein we rarely have a "lock" on the truth. Teach us how to tell one another the truth in love by telling us the truth in love and then do your best to listen when we try to tell you. We're all in this together. We all need help expanding our vision and turning our worries into prayers. In the words of The Message, "It's amazing what can happen when Christ replaces worry at the center of your life."

"Let your gentleness be made known to everyone" but don't let gentleness and humility be the bushel under which you hide your light. Let your light shine. Let your light shine before all people. Christianity has been shaped by such wonderfully arrogant men - like St. Paul and St. Augustine - that all of us are constantly on the lookout for the sin of pride. Women tend more toward the sin of self erasure. You are a curious and dedicated student; be an equally curious and dedicated teacher. Share what you do know and HAVE found because your job is to devote yourself with real intention to these things. There are other jobs - we will be doing many of them - but this is yours. We have much to learn from you: your palpable prayerfulness, your dependence on God, your relationship with Chris, your integration of contemplation and justice.

You've labored as a social worker - digging deep and getting dirty. Help us to put our hands and feet where our hearts and minds are. Help us to do more than talk a good game. Call us to service beyond self - to strive for justice and peace among all persons loving our neighbors as ourselves. Help us to embody hope - to one another and to the world. There will be days when we miss the mark and wander off the way and not want to hear it. There will be days when you will do the same and not want to speak it. Do it anyway. Baptize us, marry us, preach, preside and pray - in season and out of season when you feel inspired and when you do not. You are a priest: Carry us in your heart as Christ carries you. This is your ordination vow. This is your calling among us.

"Rejoice in the Lord always" and thank God for the self evident charisms with which God has equipped you for the work of this ministry - three master's degrees, in social work, psychology and divinity - all of which will prove useful for it has been wisely observed whenever two or three are gathered together there will be problems. Thank God for your pastoral abilities - healing and profound and desperately needed. Thank God for all that has taught you to be aware of the dark and unafraid to sit in it. It is a gift that will cause many to rejoice and deeply, especially if, as I hope you will, you offer yourself as a spiritual director.

"Finally, Beloved" Chris, though there will be many temptations to do otherwise, resist the demons of negativity that seek to pull us down and away. "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence - any at all! - if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me" - keep on offering yourself to God, keep on consecrating your life to Christ, day after day after day - "and the God of peace will be with you." "The Lord is near" - loving and upholding you now and always.

Remember in whose strength you go. In Christ's name we wish you joy.

© 2007 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

First Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A good many years ago I sat by the Christmas tree one morning opening gifts. They were given to me in a particular order and I was intrigued by the deliberate nature of this process, so unusual for the regular random package opening. But here they came in a particular order. In the first couple box there were several short sleeve shirts. This struck me as somewhat odd, since it was in fact Winter, and a cold one at that. But, a gift is a gift and perhaps the bargain table was just too much to resist. The next box, much lighter than even the shirt box contained a pair of sandals. Again, an odd choice for winter, but they were nice and one does get sandals cheaper when the snow is on the ground. I was beginning to get tired of the bargain hunting theme. There were several of these boxes containing seasonally inappropriate gifts when the last box was handed to me. It was the smallest and lightest of all. When I opened the box I was stunned to see two airline tickets to St. Croix. Most other people would have caught on to this pattern long before the final box, but since this thinking was essentially out of the box for me I was totally taken by surprise. The friend giving me the gifts was absolutely delighted by my stupification. I remember having at least the presence of mind to ask, "When are we going?" He said with an evil grin, "Tomorrow." The shock I had felt before was nothing compared to the shock of that news. "Tomorrow?" Now, having already established that I'm slow on the uptake, you'll understand that for me, it wasn't really processing that "tomorrow" actually meant the next day. But, that is precisely what occurred and it was a wonderful trip.

In the weeks after the trip, after the pictures were developed (yes, this story took place before digital cameras) I enjoyed the memories of the trip, but also realized that something was missing. For some reason this trip was unlike others, and I felt a little off balance by it. It wasn't until sometime later that I realized the missing piece for me had to do with the planning. Since this trip was a surprise, I had no part in putting it together. As a result, the weeks of anticipation were not there. There are three ways we enjoy a trip -- the planning of it, the going on it, and the memories of it. Having missed the planning phase, one of the important parts of the full process was missing.

Through that experience, I learned to enjoy consciously and intentionally the gift of anticipation. We often hear of "immediate gratification" as though that were the most desirable thing. I believe gratification is richer and deeper when is takes a while to get there and anticipation is the slow, savory cooking of the actual event, a fine form of gratification in its own right.

We begin this season of Advent today as part of the anticipation of Christmas. Street decorations, store window displays, Rockerfeller Center tree and 24 hour Christmas music not withstanding, it is not Christmas yet. To dive into Christmas without a season of anticipation is to rob us of the deep satisfaction of proper planning for a season which begins on December 25, and not ends.

Our liturgical colors of deep blues and purples are ancient colors of royalty as we await the coming of the sovereign God. The lighting of the Advent candles mark the weeks of our anticipation. Slowly and patiently adding decorations help build up the expectation. Placing wrapped presents not to be opened tease children of all ages with curiousity that is rewarded in time.

The lessons we read are scriptural forms of anticipation. Isaiah anticipates a day when Israel was to be a beacon to the nations of justice and mercy for all people. A nation living in harmony with God and each other, a day when the weapons of destruction would be beat into plowshares, and they would forget the methods of war since war itself would become obsolete. In his letter to the Romans Paul anticipates the second coming of Christ to be close at hand. Yet despite how close it is, he warns the Romans reading his letters that waiting is no excuse to be foolish and lazy. He writes to the Romans that they should wait for Jesus honorably and wear an armor of light, a beautiful image of hope rising like the sun on the day they've long waited for.

Matthew, in this Gospel tempers the expectation with the words about not knowing when that day or hour is. Keep awake, wait, anticipate. The quality of anticipation is a life style that looks forward to when life and the world will be more and more in harmony with God and that our spirits live alongside each other in love and peace. We still long for the day when our weapons of war will have peaceful uses and our energy and technology will be used to generate better lives, not more destructive ones.

I love the season of Advent for it's energizing anticipation. I love the way the church looks and am very grateful to the altar guild for their patient and loving preparation as the season unfolds. I am grateful to the choir for their extra work as they anticipate the special music of this season. I am grateful to all those in each part of the life of this church who are drawn into the experience of expecting the Christ child in this most wonderful manger. All our preparations are a glimpse into and a metaphor of the life of expectation that we as Christians are called to live. Even our architecture calls us into expectation. Church buildings are generally build in a way that orients the altar on the east end of the structure. It's done that way so that all the people are facing east, and St. George's also falls into this style. Christianity is one of the many religions whose people face east to pray as a way of watching the sun rise and with it the hope of a new day. The earliest Christians look for Jesus to come again from the east. Just as there is that magical moment called the darkest part of the night before the dawn, so we in our faith hold fast even through the darkest parts of our lives in anticipation of the dawn of God's love and grace in our lives.

Advent is not just these four weeks. Advent is a way of life. It's not only a countdown to the celebration of the Nativity, an exhausted dash to the finish line. It is the place in our souls that waits for God to appear in ways desperately needed and utterly unexpected. It is an openness to God unlike anything else in our lives. It is the same faith expressed by Isaiah and Paul and so many others through time that God has always been with us, is with us, and will come to us and all the same time.

Next Saturday Chris Carroll will be ordained a priest. Now she is in the period of Advent looking forward to how God will work in her life in that ministry. After many years of preparation and expectation the moment will come and it will be in one sense a conclusion to a process, but in a very real sense it is only the beginning of a new life yet to be seen. As we begin families, new jobs, new schooling, our lives are one in Advent, full of expectation and hope as to how God will be present in those moments creating new life and wonder full of healing grace. And even in moments of pain, grief and sorrow we are people of Advent looking to the sun of God’s righteousness and hope rising in the darkest moments of our lives.

There is not a day or a moment in which the promise of God is not there to unfold in new ways bringing us to new places in our lives and in our spirits. We do not know the times or the days, but our faith keeps us on the edge of our seats knowing that God will come. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Christ the King Sunday

By The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

How many of us are comfortable with the notion of kingships or kingdoms? As Americans and those of us have become "Americanized," the language of kingship is a little problematic for us. Our history as a nation was founded and shaped around the democratic principles of government and the idea of replicating a monarchal type of government was soundly renounced and rejected. Aside from our insatiable curiosity of the comings and goings of the British Royal Family, the idea of kingships and monarchies don't really matter much to us at all.

Today, the church sets aside this last Sunday of the church year to celebrate Christ as King. It is more than just a transition of the church seasons; it is also a time when we pause and stop to acknowledge the reign and kingship of Christ. Some find this day meaningless and unimportant – a colossal waste of time. Others find it odd that the Gospel focuses on the crucifixion story at a time when we're getting ready to prepare for the birth of Christ. I think quite the opposite. More than ever, in our war-torn, polarized and demoralized world, we need to take each and every moment we can to remember Christ as our King. It's a time for us to restore our spiritual wholeness in remembering that Jesus' death upon the cross was not some terrible accident or miscarriage of justice… it was the exclamation point of his ministry here on earth.

In Luke's Gospel, he shares with us his understanding of God's radical love and grace for us. It is in this Gospel that we have Jesus being crucified in the city garbage dump of Jerusalem where in his excruciating pain and final breaths of life, we still find Jesus reaching out to the despised and the rejected.

In moving towards restoring our spiritual wholeness we need to explore exactly who was this King of Kings hanging on a cross in the local city dump. When we take a little time to compare and contrast the Epistle and Gospel readings for today, we get a full picture of Jesus from two absolutely opposite views.

Paul in his letter to the Colossians shares with us a profound spiritual view of who Christ is. "…all things have been created through him and for him …in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell…" Luke on the other hand gives us the gut wrenching picture of Jesus hanging on the cross in-between two convicted criminals. The religious leaders scoffed at him, the soldiers mocked him and the people stood by watching and jeering. Even one of the criminals being hanged along with Jesus takes some of his last breaths to insult him.

I imagine that back then, the long awaited Messiah was expected to have a kingdom and rule much like King David did. King David ruled by reclaiming the independence of his people through his mighty armies. Fast forward… here comes Jesus. He's dressed in garments that were more likely closer to pauper's clothing than clothing akin to royalty. He lived among the poorest of the poor… he didn't even have his own home… and he spent most of his days with the despised and least popular folks of his time. And to make matters worse, instead of making his entry into Jerusalem on the back of the "Cadillac" camel, he comes in riding on the back of a donkey. No wonder the crowds mocked him and felt vindicated and content to watch him suffer on the cross.

In some ways today, we still mock Jesus' kingship. The notion of Christ as King in a democratic society seems threatening. Even though many in this democratic society are forever calling for "Christian moral values" to take precedence, there are those of us who ask, whose Christian moral values are we embracing and pushing to the forefront? These so called moral values depicted by the religious right sound neither Christian nor moral to me when they are planted firmly in the language of intolerance and bigotry.

The kingship of Christ and the rule of God is not about earthly power or political authority, revenge or judgment. It is about restoring all of creation to the fullness of peace and justice and to the truth and love that God intended for us. It's about all lands and all people – not just a select few. It's about the interconnectedness of all humanity -- loving our neighbors as ourselves. Jesus' kingship is and always has been vastly different than the worldly kingship. When we celebrate and embrace Christ as King, we are holding up a king who is, first and foremost, a reconciler, a redeemer, a servant. This is a king who not only comes to show us how to live as a people of God in the kingdom of God, but who makes the ultimate sacrifice to save us from our own sins. This is why it is important that we end our church year not with a story of triumph and vindication, but one of humiliation, pain and vulnerability.

Christ's kingship, the love he offered and proclaimed was too radical, too inclusive and far too dangerous to the status quo, then and now. The battle he fought, and still fights, is that of fear and ignorance. He chose as his weapons, words of mass reconciliation, truth and justice, peace and love. How is it then that the very Jesus who gave his life for us to show us how to love one another has had his message of reconciliation co-opted and transformed into a way to polarize us? We need to understand that when we allow others to take Christ's kingship and turn it around to be a rule of law rather than the reign of love that God intended it to be, we grieve the heart of God and Christ's crucifixion becomes far removed from the reconciling act of love it was intended to be.

Why is Christ the King Sunday important? It is important because it is the day that we reclaim and proclaim the Good News of the Gospels for ourselves and the world. This is day that we stand, not in our own self-righteousness, but in Christ's righteousness and share his enduring, sacrificial love at all times, for all reasons. It is a time that we remember that Christ's kingdom wasn't about exercising dominion over people, but instead to transform our lives through his redeeming love and grace.

In spite of Christ's pain on the cross; he forgives. In spite of His suffering, he promises paradise. He gives us hope for better tomorrows when today looks so bleak and hopeless. If you still have problems with understanding or accepting the whole Christ the King idea, it doesn't matter. What we think about Jesus is not as nearly important as what He thinks about us. Be blessed to know that you and I are the objects of his complete, unconditional and sacrificial love at all times.

Amen.

© 2007 The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

Not a hair of your head will perish

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel of Luke describes disturbing realities that Jesus tells his disciples will take place. From the destruction of the temple to wars, plagues and persecutions, it is a fearsome litany of pain and misery. And yet in the midst of that list, even the part that includes their death, Jesus says , "But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

Scholars estimate that the Gospel of Luke was written at the end of the first century AD. This estimation comes from different forms of literary criticism and comparing the several Gospels that we have. Taking that estimate, the writer of Luke may have accounts of Jesus predicting the destruction of the temple, or the writer may have woven these predictions into Jesus' speech as a way of addressing the issues faced by Christians in the later part of the first century. By that time, Christians were in fact being persecuted and killed. There were wars and plagues as the period known as Pax Romana (the Roman Peace) was coming unglued. And the temple had already been destroyed in the year 67AD by the Romans who were punishing the Israelites for a rebellion.

Christians had been expecting the second coming of Jesus during their lifetime and looked to these catastrophic events as signals and were disappointed each time and for some it was cause to doubt that Jesus was in fact coming at all.

Luke employed a well known form of writing at the time called Apocalyptic to address these matters. Writers throughout the Old Testament had used this literary form to make points and so do the Gospel writers. They describe end times in bleak, horrific ways. The purpose is to encourage believers that God will come when things seem to be at their worst. We've all heard a phrase similar to, "Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse..." , something worse happens." Apocalyptic writers described in detail the things that would get worse before the end. And somehow it always seemed worse than what was being experienced.

Yet, no matter what happened, or was predicted would happen, there was always the assurance that God would be there n the midst of the suffering to help the believer through, even if the suffering included death. "Not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

There are a lot of ways we can read into this Gospel lesson. We can look at it in relations the trials and tribulations of the early Christians who watched their beloved temple torn down, and indeed heard rumors of war and plague. Those who suffered persecution and needed reassurance that they had not been abandoned by God at their time of pain and need.

We can measure this story against the times in human history since that people have predicted the end times up to and including some who thought the end was coming when we entered this new millennium. Cries of Y2K (remember that one?) echoed larger fears that our technological infrastructure would come crashing down and paralyze the planet which has become so dependant on this machinery. I remember that night of December 31, 1999 staying up and listening to commentators interviewing many people, some fearful, others hopeful that the end was coming. Well, at one minute past midnight when it became apparent that all the fuss was unnecessary some were relived and others disappointed in the smoothness of the transition.

The rector of my parents' church in Rhode Island had been preaching the end of the world and the coming of Jesus at the millennium with such fervor that she advised them to store food and water in advance of the disaster sure to come. She in fact resigned and moved with her family to upstate New York to wait for Jesus. What she was doing in the Episcopal Church I have no idea.

It was a confusing time for people of faith, especially those whose literal faith told them to expect the worst that never materialized. And here I'm not only speaking of people whose faith was in God, but those whose faith is in other gods such as computers and technology.

We pay people to think up worst case scenarios and solve them in advance. Often they are woefully inadequate in their expectation and their response. 911, Hurricane Katrina and the current war are examples of disasters in a scope no one predicted or was prepared for.

Yet the point of the Gospel lesson is that no matter what the trial that occurs, no matter how bad it may get, hope survives and life continues. God lives and so does the human family. Even those who have died do so in the loving care of God who does not lose anyone. What a comfort it is to hear the words, "Not a hair of your head will perish." In pain, we are God's beloved. In dire circumstance we are God's beloved. In death we are God's beloved.

Another dimension of the Gospel lesson reaches out to us in personal ways. Regardless of what else happens in the world, we each have our own worlds in which we live and move and have our being. Our family, our friends, our work, our neighborhoods. None of us know or can predict what may or may not happen. Each of us can, however, recall times when our lives as we knew them were threatened or in fact ended. Loved ones die, jobs are lost, illness occurs, homes are lost or devastated. I have yet to talk to anyone who can't think of something readily they would have done differently if they know their actions would have caused or precipitated negative consequences.

Yet, no matter what has happened, or in fact what may happen in the future, God's love will be there to sustain us, heal us and lead us beyond whatever trials may befall. Jesus told his disciples that they would be arrested and accused of horrible things and brought before kings and governors to be persecuted. This was a time to testify to God's goodness, not a time to worry or worse, give up hope. He said, "By your endurance you will save your souls."

Sometimes we see people who look as though the weight of the world is on their shoulders and the hard knocks that life has given them has taken the light out of their eyes. They are broken and beaten down. They have in one sense lost their souls. It is true that those whose faith stays with them survive even the worst tragedy. In this sense they gain their souls.

I read a lot of books on healing and faith and once in a while will come across a study done where it's demonstrated that a significant percentage of people in hospital suffering chronic illness, or recuperating from injury or surgery will have a higher rate of successful recovery if they have faith, pray or believe in a higher power that will sustain them. These studies transcend all faiths and to me point out the power of God who also transcends all faiths and the need each of us have in cultivating a significant faith and spirituality.

These lessons of "end times" are part of the lectionary cycle as this liturgical year ends. Whether the Old or New Testament, the readings point our attention to the coming of God into the world. The season of Advent begins in two weeks and brings that anticipation even closer in the expectation of the birth of God among us in the form of Jesus. But at this time in the year, at this time in our lives and in this time in history, God is here among us and God does come among us in times of need and regardless of what happens we are loved by God who tells us in so many ways that "not a hair of your head will perish and by your endurance you will gain your souls." Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Reversal of Mission

By Mary Davis, Seminarian Intern

Good morning. Let me take a minute of your time, and for those of you whom I have not met yet, my name is Mary Davis, and I am a second year theological intern at Drew University in Madison, and on the path toward ordination here in this Diocese. I am spending this year with you here at St. George's as part of my "Field Work" experience, and part of this experience is, of course, preaching.

Today's parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is a story told only in the Gospel of Luke. This story, along with many of the other stories or parables we've heard from Luke this fall, highlights a theme of "divine reversal" which, if we are not careful to look closely and intentionally at it, it is capable of seeming unreasonable to us.

For the Pharisees were the holy men of their age, and this particular Pharisee presented today in Jesus' parable, was one who had gone beyond the expectation of the law, was adhering to the code of purity, and then some. He was not only fasting once a week as the law required, but twice. And even better, (and I'm not just making a plug here because it's Stewardship season) he tithed on "all" of his income, going yet again, beyond what the law required.

Then, on the other hand, as you well know, Jesus compares this 'holy' Pharisee to the tax collector. His hated status in Jewish society is well known, since here was a Jew, who was a traitor, at best, by working for the Roman government, and at worst, more like a human parasite, feeding off of his fellow Jews.

Clearly, this is one of those stories, and Luke is famous for this, which presents for us a "radical reversal." Our sensibilities and sense of justice are challenged by the notion that the supposed 'holy man' here, the Pharisee, is not rewarded, while the sinful and parasitic tax collector is in fact exalted. "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted," says Jesus.

I chewed on this lesson for quite some time, repelled by the Pharisee's self-righteous prayer, yet caught myself, thankful, that I was not like the Pharisee! Interesting, hum? Yet this was not the first time I've caught myself thinking like that. Because, for those of you who don't know me yet, I have three children, three boys in fact, and these boys manage to continually humble me and my assumptions and highlight my own inner "Pharisee."

My oldest child, Ryan, who is now 15, suffers from the developmental disability called Asperger's Syndrome. It's on the Autistic Spectrum, and severely limits his ability to negotiate this social world in which we live. So it's easy for me, and certainly for others in our world, to judge his inadequacies, his shortcomings, and his single minded focus at times. And yet, if this wasn't bad enough (and I'm being slightly facetious here), perhaps the worst thing about his disorder is that he is totally enamored by Japanese Cartoons. You know the type - Yugioh, Pokemon, Digimon, Dragonball Z. If you haven't seen or heard of these cartoons, they are our imported animated figures from Japan, whose eyes are drawn much larger than our American-made cartoon figures, and when their mouths move, it is not in sync with our English words, because originally, Japanese words were scripted. These cartoons are the bane of my existence. Partially, because they are an almost constant source of background drama and noise in our house, but also because I have visions of my son as a 30-year-old, lying on my couch incessantly watching them. But just as I laid out my judgments, looking down upon my son's recreation of choice, one day, he sat up from his cartoon stupor and told me, "You know mom, this cartoon "Twitches" (which is a Japanese cartoon found on the Disney Channel about twin witches separated at birth) is a lot like Jesus and God." Intrigued, the Pharisee, I mean, the dutiful theological student and mother lifted her head from the dishes in the sink . . . "how so," I asked? He said to me, "Yeah, they are the forces that fight the darkness and evil that have filled the world and they want, more than anything else, to bring light to the world."

Now that's humility – there I was with my grand theological thoughts, my judgments, my self-righteous efforts, and all of them were rightfully squashed by my developmentally disabled teenager's insights in to darkness and light. His humble revelation about Jesus' mission to bring Light to the World was not an assessment of me, but rather, a simple statement that pulled me out of my rut of judgment, and allowed me to find the spark of God's grace within Ryan, and at the end of this day, Ryan's Japanese cartoons brought the light of Christ to me.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and author, whose work has spoken to me in many ways, wrote about this divine reversal. He called it the "reverse mission." And this is exactly what this parable in Luke shows us. Nouwen writes, "I have become aware that wherever God's Spirit is present, there is a reverse mission. . . [and] this reversal is a sign of God's spirit. The poor have a mission to the rich, the handicapped have a mission to the able-bodied, the dying have a mission to the living. Jesus shows us that the victims become our evangelists, calling us to conversion." And in that conversion, we humbly become aware that all of our efforts at learning - about ourselves, about others and about God - all of our efforts to do the right thing, and all of our attempts to fix our world, all of them mean nothing without God, without the humble admission that God's life and breath dwell in everyone.

There is another layer of "divine reversal" in this parable which causes me to sit up and take notice, especially during this Stewardship season, and again, it's the Pharisee. Because the title "Pharisee" is derived from the Hebrew verb, "to separate," which is exactly what the Pharisee had done. His prayers and actions, though beyond the code of purity and certainly beyond expectation, were done alone. The gospel reads, "The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus . . . ." And I think that the other piece to this divine reversal draws us to one another, instead of away from each other. We all matter. All of our stories and practices of faith, God's working in our lives, are all part of telling a story of something that can't really be told because it's something that defies explanation, something that exceeds our comprehension. And yet, telling and sharing the story of our lives in Christ, here in this church, in this year, and as this congregation, is exactly what we are called to do.

Some of you might have heard this story before, but it comes to me from a book by Charles Foster, and he took it from one of Elie Wiesel's writings. But it's a story of a Great Rabbi, who whenever he saw misfortune approaching his community, followed the custom of going deep into the heart of the forest, and there he would ask God to save his people. He would go to a sacred place, and he would light a sacred fire, and he would say a special sacred prayer. And sure enough the disaster would be averted.

Well, this great rabbi died at an old age, and he was succeeded by his disciple, who was also a good and holy rabbi, but he did not learn all there was to know from his teacher, and when disaster would approach he would go to the same place in the forest, for he knew the place, and he would light the same sacred fire, for his knew how to make the fire, but he had forgotten the prayer. And so he would just remember that there was a prayer, and that would be enough. Disaster would be averted.

When he died and was succeeded by his disciple, again, the same pattern would play out. Only now, when disaster would approach the village, the disciple would go to the sacred spot in the forest, for he knew where that place was, but he hadn't learned how to light the sacred fire, and he didn't know the sacred prayer. And so he went to the place, and said, "Oh God, I'm here in this place, and I do not know how to light the fire, and I do not know the sacred prayer, but that must be enough." And it was.

And he lived to an old age and was succeeded by his disciple, yet another generation. By this time, the sacred place in the forest was lost. So when disaster approached the village, this rabbi knelt in his home, and said, "Oh Lord, God, I do not know the place in the forest, I do not know how to light the sacred fire, and I do not know the sacred prayer, but I know the story and that must be enough." And it was.

These Rabbis didn't pray for their communities and leave. And they didn't just talk about the "good old days" and revel in the past. Instead, they prayed, lighting the sacred fire and finding a sacred place, and then returned to community to embrace the future and teach the next generation. It's so important for all us to remember the story of a living God acting in our midst, but even more important, to live that story now, in community, and incorporate the generations to come into our story with God. Again, we all matter.

Our stories do not live and move in separateness, like the Pharisee. Our connectedness to generations before us – generations of 'tax collectors' and generations of 'pharisees' – allows us all, by the Grace of God, to embrace one another as community. By turning over and over and over and over again, returning time and time again to God, our story becomes one of humility, one which recognizes and values the breath of God that was given to all of us. That holy breath created a story of community, a place where our traditions, both old and new, are shared together - with each other, with God, and with the saints that traveled here before us.

This is true stewardship: offering ourselves and our treasures up to God, by humbly stepping out of the way of our own righteousness, so that all of our stories of faith may be used for God's work in this church, this community, and in the world today.

© 2007 Mary Davis

Healing & Gratitude

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel we just read, Jesus told the leper who returned, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

There are a lot of healing stories in the whole Bible and they number extremely high in the Gospels. The dimensions of healing are deep and wide and stories like this provide us with a backdrop to study and learn some of those dimensions. This particular story is one I like very much and quote from often in my conversations on healing.

As often happens, Luke introduces a story by saying that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. For the writer of Luke this is constantly important, it is the prism through which he sees Jesus ministry. Going to Jerusalem and all the events we now reenact liturgically through our Holy Week services. The healing and miracles Jesus performs on his way to Jerusalem are a preview and a foretaste of the ultimate healing and miracle yet to happen through the crucifixion and resurrection. By telling us again that Jesus was on his way, Luke ties this story into the larger story that is unfolding. The participants are of course unaware of what's coming, but for the writer and the generations of readers who know the outcome, the prism through which Luke sees Jesus' life, becomes the prism through which we see also. The injuries to body and spirit endured on Calvary are healed through God's ultimate healing grace and even death is not possible to God as seen in the resurrection. As readers who know this, we come to the story of the ten lepers a little more informed of the larger picture.

These ten people suffering from leprosy were careful to keep their distance as a sign of respect but also not to offend. There was the possibility of contagion and even beyond that the knowledge that as a Jew Jesus would have been obliged to avoid them as unclean. So they voiced their desperate pleas from a distance. Observing the law that only a Jewish priest could certify them as clean and able to be restored to the community, Jesus instructed them to go find the priest. The healing occurred along the way. Miraculous. Nine of them continued on, presumably to find the priest, be certified as healed and clean and find new lives as healthy people healed in body and healed in relationship by being welcomed back from the exile of their disease and banishment.

Yet for one of them there was unfinished business. Once he realized that he had been cured he returned to Jesus to thank him. Quite simply that. For the miracle of cleansing, the miracle of healing, the doors this opened up as far as being reestablished in the community -- there was an overwhelming sense of gratitude, and for this the man returned to Jesus to say thank you. Again, details are important in Luke's story. Jesus noted that of the ten healed, the only one returning to thank him was the Samaritan. We've run into Samaritans before -- the story of the good Samaritan who helped the injured man on the road, the woman at the well Jesus broke the rules to speak to was also a Samaritan, and many other general references to the people of Samaria. They were, as a people, considered foreign and not pure blooded Israelites. They were looked down upon and discriminated against. That Jesus healed the Samaritan leper again showed that he followed the law of compassion rather than the law of prejudice. By referring to this Luke also opens the door to us as readers to expand our vision of those considered worthy of God's love.

Another important part of this story is that they asked. Someone once told me "You don't ask, you don't get." There's a lot of truth in that. We might complain about nothing coming our way, and yet haven't taken the time to ask in any significant way. We may feel we don't deserve something, or that things are simply impossible, and we defeat ourselves by not even asking for that which is life giving and important to us and can be healing. Time and again the miracles come when people ask and God's abundance gives them so much and often more than what was asked for. That's not to say it comes wrapped in paper and recognizable. Sometimes it's subtle and hidden and needs to be revealed. Prayers are answered, but we need to ask.

Then for me the most important part of this passage -- Jesus tells the man that his faith has made him "well." He had already been cured of his leprosy, but the gratitude he showed healed him on an even deeper level. By being called "well," there is implied a spiritual healing of great importance. The Samaritan man didn't take his healing for granted. He acknowledged the source of his healing and deepened his relationship to the great healer with a simple act of gratitude. He did not allow his excitement of being cured allow him to forget this basic lesson of thanksgiving.

Gratitude is easily overlooked. And yet it is so important. Who among us doesn't like to be thanked for something we've done? It's nice to be recognized, gives us a little boost. It means work that we've done has been noticed and appreciated. We have a little glow of satisfaction and there's also some inspiration to do even more. But the gratitude we experience deepens the quality of the relationship we have with the person who thanks us. Part of their spirit reaches out to part of our spirit in a moment of communion. Whether an individual or a group, the act of thanking improves a spiritual bond. A few weeks ago at our celebration of the renovated Parish Hall we thanked many people who worked so hard to make that project happen. It was absolutely important to do that in a significant way that demonstrated the depth of gratitude on behalf of the full community of this church. And it was fun. People who get thanked get all embarrassed and have an "aw shucks" posture, but it still feels good. It draws us closer together as friends and community members.

How much more important it is for us to thank God for the miracles and healing we receive through God's grace and love. Sometimes we get so excited by the positive changes in our lives that we forget to take the time to recognize that God's love makes all things possible and that thanks are deserved. I don't think God's feelings are hurt if we forget to show gratitude, but it's important for us to show it. Taking the time to recognize what we have been given, where we have come along our way, how we've been healed in the many ways from body and spirit gives us an opportunity to be made not only healed, but "well." Recognizing the gift and thanking the giver deepens the relationship between us and God.

Gratitude takes practice. It seems odd to say, but I think it's true. We take so much for granted that we often forget to pause and realize the many blessings we've been given. Even things which appear negative, often turn out to be blessings in disguise. All the more reason to take time to examine our lives and review the many gifts we've been given. When and where appropriate, we should thank the people by whom blessings come. And above all, pause though the days ahead and observe the blessings of God through grace and thank God for them. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. He told the Samaritan man to "go on your way" wherever that way might go. We each have our own way to travel come what may. It is God that watches over us and heals us in the many ways we need healing, and it is our faith and gratitude that makes us well. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Increase Our Faith

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel passage we just read, the Apostles said to Jesus, "Increase our faith." This passage comes in the midst of a series of seemingly unrelated sayings, which happens from time to time in the Gospels. Jesus' response was that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed they could uproot a tree and replant it in the sea. That would be quite a trick! It's an interesting choice of seeds, however. In another parable, Jesus told them that the mustard seed is the smallest of seeds which grows into the largest of bushes or trees, depending on which Gospel lesson you read.

While the botanical accuracy of the parables is debatable, the point is entering into it as it was intended. If we had faith the size of a mustard seed, the smallest of the small -- we could accomplish the greatest of the greatest deeds. Faith is a truly amazing gift in each of us. How much do we have? How do we acquire more? Where will it take us and what will we do along the way? The Apostles had these questions answered in their lives in very powerful ways. We too, have these questions and to the degree we wrestle with them, we will find the answers for ourselves.

This lesson caps a series of difficult lessons. Again I find myself wanting to skip over the tough ones, but they stick out like sore thumbs and need attention. The lesson from Lamentations is heartbreaking. Often attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, this book of sadness chronicles the fall of the kingdom of Israel in narrative and poetic styles. Once a prospering and bustling kingdom, it boasted of thriving cities and grand buildings not the least of which was the temple in Jerusalem. They had a long heritage and legacy of great Kings like David and Solomon. But when they were conquered by the Babylonians all that was lost. Everything great about them was destroyed, their buildings, cities, their beloved temple, their way of life and even their people dragged away from their homeland and resettled hundreds of miles away in a foreign country where it was expected they would assimilate and over the generations forget there was even a country called Israel.

Jeremiah's laments were written and have lasted through the ages and express the grief of people in the midst of their suffering. The psalm complements this reading beautifully. It was believed to be written by someone who had been taken from Israel and resettled so far away. It begins with a melancholic tone and rises in anger to a pitch of rage that calls for the destruction of the babies of their enemies. It's a rage we are unaccustomed to and yet when we open our eyes and ears to comments today we can hear echoes of this shocking request. We hear it from the anguished lips of mothers and fathers who bury their children fallen in war on either side of any conflict. The rage captures not only the grief but confusion of the cruelty of others, the futility of war and the impotence of their own rage in the face of forces greater than they are. One of the more chilling moments in the new movie "The Kingdom" comes when people on both sides of the conflict in a terrorist attack in Saudi Arabia console the American and Saudi families of fallen soldiers by pledging to "kill them all." Our connection to this psalm is as deep as it is disturbing.

I've always been grateful that the Bible includes such raw emotion, even when it's negative. Simply because it's real and we can't gloss over it. We need to recognize it and confront it and with God's help overcome it. Like the Apostles who asked Jesus to increase their faith, ours too must increase to where we can take these foolish notions of war and greed and uproot them and throw them away.

In Paul's second letter to Timothy, he continues his mentoring of the young man and encourages his steadfast faith. He appeals to Timothy's spirit and reminds him of the spirit that Paul himself had bestowed upon him by the laying on of his hands -- an image from which we get our own ordination practices today. This spirit is not one of cowardice, but power, love and self discipline. These tools will see Timothy through his difficulties and these come through grace and grace is a gift of God. "Increase our faith." the apostles said. And God does, for them and us.

Today we celebrate the life of a beloved saint in the church's history -- St. Francis. We remember his kindness and poetry. His abiding faith and love of animals. We honor his sacrifices and devotion to the poor. He inspires us in our care for them, for the environment and for all of creation.

I became excited by the connection I saw in these readings today and the life of St. Francis. Believe me, it's not really a big stretch! In his early life, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and enjoyed the games and sport of spoiled rich young men of his time with out much concern for the future. When a local war broke out among neighboring kingdoms he thought it would be fun to go and do some fighting. His soft life did not prepare him for the brutality of the war he experienced. He sustained wounds that almost killed him and he was brought back to his parents' home where he recuperated.

Like the book of Lamentations, he saw his old life shattered by the realities of what he experienced. The false importance he placed on his earlier play cut him as deeply as his battle wounds and as he recovered he found a new purpose in living to help others and in that way find a richness in his life he had never known.

He was encouraged in his ministry, as Paul had encouraged Timothy and he found the power, love and self discipline to continue his work. And as his faith increased, he accomplished great deeds lasting into the present.

It is here that I want to find the good news today. There's not a person here, I suspect, who hasn't know some lament or rage for something in the past. There's not a person who hasn't felt somehow wronged by another and felt those horrible, deep feelings of sadness that come to victims and rage at the consequences they've had to pay for someone else's aggression, greed or thoughtlessness. It's how we're wired, it's natural and all too common.

What is not as easy, and yet ever so much more needed is the encouragement to move from being a victim to a victor. We can use the very hurts in our lives to make us stronger in our own spirits and more empathetic to others in their times of need. Like Paul to Timothy I have received encouragement in my own challenges, and I encourage you in yours to find the spirit of power, love and self discipline that God's grace provides us with. If we don't we stay in a hopeless spiral of rage and revenge. But we can move beyond that place to a stronger place where the increase of faith can bring out of us incredible accomplishments -- the most important perhaps will be to break the cycle of rage that plagues humanity. I've watched landscapers and observed that while it's sometimes difficult, replanting trees is fairly commonplace. What is truly a miracle to me is teaching a child how to get beyond anger to find healing and constructive response. It's a miracle and lesson we can only teach if we have found the way ourselves. And we can.

We live side by side with people from all over the world who live out their love or their rage in the actions of their lives. And the potential for this same love or rage lives side by side in each of us. We can choose how those raw emotions get acted out. We can make pledges to those around us to let the negative in our lives produce positive growth. And we can only succeed by grace and God's love.

Let us pray, Lord increase in us the faith to find the power, love and self discipline to conquer the anger and rage that is formed in us. Find in us the seeds of faith, whether small or large and bring them growth to accomplish in us that which we could never imagine. Inspire us with prophets and saints, encourage us with teachers and friends, be our guide and source of faith and allow us to be channels of your peace. Through Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

The Stewardship of Time and Talent

By Chris West, Stewardship Co-Chair

The Stewardship of Time and Talent. That is the theme of today's Ministry Fair. Time and Talent. Seems pretty simple. Not always easy - but simple. A bit of time given here and there. A sharing of talent - of personal gifts - well - maybe that seems a bit more complicated.

Still - it is a new year - not liturgical, not by the calendar. This month we return to Sunday School and regular worship hours and the choir singing and Dinners For Eight and a host of other activities that mark this time.

And we return to Stewardship - that calling out to consider both the new and the renewal of our commitment to share with St. George's (and therefore with each other and the greater church and the larger community) our treasure, our time and our talent.

I'm not going to talk about the treasure part this morning. The Stewardship Committee wanted very much to give full voice and visibility to the other aspects of Stewardship. So today - our Time and Talent Fair.

I want to shift a bit now - to today's Gospel lesson. The one where the writer of Luke almost seems to be telling a story where Jesus is telling his disciples - be smart: be shrewd like the "children of this age" not the "children of light".

A story where a manager is doing a poor job for his boss - and when he gets found out - he decides to add cheating to wastefulness. In his fear as well as his disdain for working or begging - he comes up with the idea that he'll just help everyone that owes his boss money and thereby ingratiate himself with them. And the boss - he seems to think this is fine - because the manager "had acted shrewdly".

At the end of the telling of this story - Jesus says "make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes."

The whole thing makes no sense. A boss who's angry with an incompetent employee and then thinks he's great because he cheats him. And - even more confusing - Jesus talking about being shrewd and being dishonest, like that's a good thing.

But the final sentences - the summing up of the story if you will - are very clear.

Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful in much - and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. No one can serve two masters - we will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. We cannot serve God and wealth.

Our faithfulness - our keeping our part of the covenant - in little things and big things - is required. And we cannot give short shrift to the small stuff - because when we do - we give the big stuff short shrift as well.

This is what happens when we are not whole and complete. Or maybe it causes that fragmentation. I'm never sure which comes first.

But the splitting of our selves and the battle that can rage between our yearning towards the God of our understanding and the world's demands - can be overwhelming sometimes. A lot of times.

A favorite of my remembered biblical stories is only one of my favorites because as a child I completely misunderstood it.

It is the parable of the talents. And it goes (the quick version) like this: A man going on a long journey leaves his goods with his servants. Now in the bible - the goods are talents - an amount of money, which somewhere or other I read, is the equal of about a thousand dollars today.

Two of the servants invest the talents and double them. When the man returns, he's happy. But the third servant - afraid to lose the talents - has buried them for safekeeping and the man - pretty upset at not having the talents increase - is very angry. This is one of those stories that end in weeping and teeth gnashing.

The thing is - I didn't know the talents were money when I first heard this story. I just thought they were talents - like singing or dancing or playing the harmonica. So I thought the point was - don't bury your talents. I may have also confused this with not hiding your light under a bushel.

Anyway - you get my point, I hope. More about this later.

Christian and I were on vacation recently in Maine - we did a bit of research before leaving about what there was to do and where we wanted to go. But when we arrived we found the most amazing Tourist Information Center. It was amazing because it was filled with everything you would need to know about Maine ... and it was organized in a way that satisfied even my obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

We went there three separate times - to browse, to get ideas, to be sure we hadn't missed anything - and to revel in the numbers of activities, places, events, restaurants, galleries, nature walks, scenic drives open to us. And everyone else there was doing the same thing. Wandering through this large room - ducking in and out between aisles of shelves. We were part of this small community of sojourners. It was great.

As the weeks leading to today's Fair galloped along, I kept thinking about the Center. And in this last week - when even more parishioners suddenly seemed to jump on the idea of hosting a table - I thought about it some more.

Because when you go down stairs after the service and wander around our very beautiful Parish Hall - you'll have this whole host of opportunities in front of you.

Please don't think of them as duties to be fulfilled - or obligations to be met. Pretend you are going into the Center in Maine the way Chris and I did. And see the smorgasbord of all these things to do and let your appetite be whet. We are entering this hall together - surveying this smorgasbord as yet another community of sojourners.

There are opportunities for fellowship, chances to un-bury talents and let them increase, occasions for grace when our commitment to our life of faith overcomes the calls of a world in which faith, grace and fellowship seem unsupported.

And today you get a One-Day Dispensation from the sin of Pride - (see your bulletin). Good today and today only! Because we want you to be bold, to brag, to pop your jerseys, to let both your big talents and your small skills get put to good use.

Now why do I say 'put to good use'? That's a bit presumptuous I guess.

So let me tell you how it is I really came to be standing here this morning - speaking to you. I have been a member of St. George's for about 12 years I think. I've done a few things here in that time - but the one that has brought me the most joy is teaching Sunday School - 4th, 5th or 6th graders depending on the year. I've done that most of the years I've been here.

I don't think I'm that good at it. But I love it. And I love the children who have been in my class.

I watch with anticipation all the even younger ones - and I start thinking about how eventually I'll get them in my class. So each year when I consider how maybe I'll ask Jane Cates for a year off, I think of someone I've been waiting to see in my class and I postpone for another year that brief sabbatical.

Let me reassure you - this ministry is not without its frustrations. Aside from my own insecurity, there is of course the occasional Sunday morning when I'm certain no one is listening - no one cares - the whole group is out of control and I'm just about to bust.

Following one such Sunday - as I was shepherding the little lambs to the church (there's an irony to our joining you all at the Peace) a few of the children made a stop at the water cooler.

This is pretty routine with them. I slipped into my normal pose and tone of voice when this happens and shushed them along - reminding them "Come on - we're going to church now."

And then something happened. I felt this great sense of calm - of certainty - and I had a waking up moment. I thought - this is their church. They know this place. They know every nook and cranny - from the stage to the altar to the cloister garden to the playground to the kitchen. They've crawled and run and walked over every surface. They feel comfortable here - this is a place they know. The faces are familiar - some grownups even know their names (though I wish there were more of them).

And someday - 20 or 30 years from now, they may be sitting in a newcomers' meeting at a rectory telling people about the church they went to as children. And that will be this place. This church. St. George's will be the church of their memory. It will be the place they remember and even if they don't know that now, it is true.

We create - in our covenant with God and with each other - this memory. It is the work we do here, the worship we pray and sing here, the ministries we embrace and engage in and are engaged by, the place from which we reach out and the place in which we may turn inward, the place we meet the comfort we find in each other with the strength we find in ourselves, the place we try to name the un-nameable.

It is the place of our memory - which we carry with us all through the week if only we will stop to hear, and look, and remember it.

There is ample opportunity today for us to continue - or to embark upon - this memory-creation.

When you walk downstairs look for Joy. Be bold. Take chances. Over-reach. Build a memory - for yourself, for our children, for each other.

Let us pray -

Lord, guide us to be faithful in a little so that we may be faithful in much, show us the way to wholeness and completeness, remind us of our many talents, relieve us of our fears of the finiteness of time, and guide us to continue to create and re-create this church in which we give you thanks and praise. Amen.

© 2007 Chris West