An Advent People

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel lesson presents strange and disturbing images. Jesus mentions "signs in the sun, moon and stars, distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and waves. People fainting from fear and foreboding, the powers of the heavens shaken.

This reading is in the "apocalyptic style" and describes the end of the world in a language of images and in a literary genre common to that era. The style describes a world turned upside down, a world in pain, confusion and turmoil. A world marked by violence. A world looking for God.

It’s not such an unusual genre. One of the current box office hits is a movie called 2012, about the end of the world as foretold in an ancient Mayan prophecy. Unlike our scriptures, the Mayans apparently are quite explicit about the date the world will end, and apparently for two and a half hours the characters arrange deck chairs on the global Titanic.

People of all generations and cultures have predicted the end of the world in the languages of their religions and sciences. And after a while I begin to wonder if it’s fear of this possibility or a sad hope. Sometimes what we say we fear the most is a veiled way of expressing what we really hope for.

Apocalyptic stories in the scriptures are accompanied by warnings or predictions of wars, famines and large scale suffering. Truthfully, the world has never been without these things. The level of suffering is so great and the solutions seem so colossal and out of reach that in frustration, the only option may seem for God to destroy the world and start again. That’s the basic story line of Noah’s Ark and the apocalyptic stories are offshoots of that one.

But not all of the stories end in total destruction. Some of the stories offer hope and redemption. In our first lesson, Jeremiah wrote of hope. Jeremiah was a prophet who wrote during a period of Israel’s history in which the leading citizens of the country had been captured by the Babylonians and led away to be relocated hundreds of miles away leaving Jerusalem in a heap of ruin. Jeremiah watched the world he knew reduced to rubble in Apocalyptic proportion and still he wrote faithfully in the promise of God to restore them. He began to write of the rise of a messiah, another king in the line of David who would emerge and lead them in a new age of righteousness and justice. This messiah became the hope of a nation and each generation looked for him to be revealed.

When Jesus came, those who met him were uncertain at first. Some came to believe, others didn’t. He didn’t act the way they were taught to expect. He didn’t raise an army or overthrow the occupying forces. Rather, he talked of love and forgiveness, not war or vengeance. It’s not what they expected, but it was compelling never the less. Many followed and their world was also turned upside down when he was crucified. And like the prophets of old he pointed to the future when another would come. But unlike the prophets before him, he told them it would be he who would return.

The world has spun up and down ever since. Each generation watching the world it knew change, totter, fall, and from its ashes another rise. So many of these generations remember the words of Jesus saying to look at the clouds for his return. Christians today also look to the sky for Jesus to return, but in ways we don’t agree on. In our Creed we say we believe he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end. This belief places us in the category of an Advent people. A people of expectation. We are marked as followers of Christ who believe that though the earth and it’s powers rise and fall, God is constant and comes to restore God’s people.

We sometimes fall into the same trap that some biblical characters fell into. We allow our expectations and hope determine how we believe God will appear. In so doing, we run the risk of missing God altogether.

The season of Advent serves as a reminder that God came to earth in the person of Jesus; that God has come and that God will come again and again and again to save us from ourselves, for the sole reason of love. The prophets and writers continually draw our attention to this hope. We turn to our traditions for inspiration and grounding as we live in a world that changes and challenges us.

Hope is fragile in the wake of economic crisis, and war, and senseless cruelty. Our literature and entertainment options often suggest blowing it all up, as though expressing the common frustration of a weary public. But among the voices in the Bible expressing hope, Jesus suggests looking at the fig tree and draws a lesson of hope in it. Whether the fig tree or any tree, we see the buds and know that summer is near.

Whenever we give food to the hungry, or offer shelter to the homeless, or march and stand up for justice and the intrinsic value of God’s people we are seeing the buds on a tree of life that makes the promise of God closer.

It’s not the world we need to destroy, but the evil in it. The world is an incredibly beautiful place and so many people are truly wonderful and loving. God so loved the world that he became human to show us the way of grace and love. It’s very simple. It’s not always easy, but it starts with us living lives that reflect God’s love and hope.

Jesus told his disciples another curious thing. He said, "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away." The words he embodied were love, justice and peace. Regardless of what else happens, these words remain and remain true. As people of Advent the truth of these words in the past, helps us be open to their truth in the future.

May our worship and prayers make us strong to face the challenges of hope. May the armor of light St. Paul talks about and which we used in our opening collect shield us from the frustrations of the worlds’ pain and inspire us to be healers. And even in the worst of life’s events may we see the hopeful buds of God’s grace creating new life and possibilities. Amen.

©2009 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

What's in a Name?

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Juliet, under the prompting of William Shakespeare, asked "What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." And perhaps it would, but she was to discover that names are indeed very important. Names are essential for communication and understanding. They evoke emotional responses. Perhaps joy and anticipation. Perhaps warning or fear. Perhaps anger.

Children call out that "sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never harm me". Again, that may be true in a physical sense, but it’s more complicated than that as the children get older.

In the Bible names are very important. From the beginning with creation, the naming of the animals and even of people is a thoughtful process full of significance. If there is a name used in the Bible, you can believe it’s not used casually. And it needs to be looked at.

In the first lesson God sends the prophet Elijah to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon." Does that raise any red flags for you? Well, it certainly would have for the writer and first readers of these scriptures. The Israelites hated Sidon, and all of its parts including Zarephath. Sidon had been a powerful state near the Mediterranean Sea in what is now southern Lebanon and had controlled Israel for a while. The Hebrew scriptures have many nasty references to Sidon with heartfelt pleas for God to destroy it. King Solomon had married a Sidonian princess in an attempt to make a treaty and that backfired, spiritually speaking when she brought her gods and upset the religious practices of the courts. Sidon was also the home of such villainous luminaries as the legendary Jezebel who married King Ahab many generations later and created havoc in her own right.

So it would have been quite shocking to hear that God sends Elijah there on a mission of mercy. Not only the enemy state, but to a widow of all people and her son who might, for all they know, turn into a soldier who might attack them some day. Elijah saved them from starvation.

Quite shocking indeed.

Widows and foreigners, especially hated foreigners, play a large role in the teaching of the scriptures since they are socially the least of the least. The were considered beneath contempt, and yet the point is that in God’s love they are seen, heard, and provided for. They are loved and valued. So, of course, Elijah would be sent to her because she was in need. The widow in the Gospel story is also an important figure because of the teaching of her gift to the poor. None were poorer than she, and yet she gave to help others. These women, whom scripture doesn’t even name, are known to God and to us so many millennia later.

It’s no accident that these stories of giving are in the Lectionary around the time that most churches are engaged in their stewardship programs. Like the stories we’ve been hearing from parishioners, these stories can be helpful in giving us some inspiration to pray about our own giving in general and our pledge to St. George’s in particular. Each of the stories has been personal and unique. Each person who has told their story expressed some powerful feelings after sharing. It reminds me that we don’t often get the opportunity to tell our stories to each other. We get busy with committee work or other business and overlook the deeper conversations untold. Sometimes the action of putting our lives in a brief outline and articulating our values, needs and hopes crystallizes it in our own minds as well as offering inspiration to others.

And at its core, that’s what giving is all about. Sharing ourselves as a way of growing. As a way of stretching and discovering parts of ourselves even as we share it with others. Personally, when my sermons include deeper stories from my past I get deeper feedback from people who identify. I have to tell you, it’s not easy to reveal some of the stories and truths, especially the painful ones or those that highlight my foolishness. Still, they seem to get the deepest resonance and not surprisingly since we all share core vulnerabilities as well as strengths. I have to admit that when I share even the most painful stories from this pulpit or in other forums that I felt stronger and a sense of healing. It’s a gift to be able to share personal stories because of the growth it offers. It’s also a gift to be able to give of our time, talent and treasure for the same reasons.

Most of us experience fears and insecurities about all sorts of things. We want to put up shields and pull in, especially at times of scarcity or uncertainty. We all do this to some degree. And yet we do so at our own peril. Fear and insecurity might cut us off from the people and activities that we enjoy and that keep us alive in our most basic sense. We might be afraid that what little we have will be taken away.

The scriptures don’t tell us how these widows fared after the stories we read took place. I would like to believe that they were all right. But the lessons they teach us is that if anyone had reason to pull in and hold tight to what they had, it was them. Ye they gave because in doing so, they lived.

For those of you who are members of St. George’s and who are prepared to pledge today, you may have brought the pledge card that was sent in the mail to you. If not, there are pledge cards on the pews and in stacks by the doors. We hope you’ll be ready to place them in the offering plate when it comes by later on, or mail it in when you can.

Part of membership is the support of the ministry of the church and that includes the finances. Yet, it also needs to be stated clearly that the pledge should be realistic and given with confidence and faith. If circumstances change during the year, the pledge can be modified up or down as you direct.

There is a spirituality to giving that is very important. God works through us to accomplish great things, even if they appear small. But in order to do that, we need to make ourselves available to God through the actions of giving. It calls for risk and vulnerability. And through it we discover the strength and joy we never thought possible.

One of the gifts being given today is a tricycle. It is a bitter, sweet gift. Given in memory of Gabriel Batista who died at age two almost a year ago, this tricycle will be blessed and donated by his parents Suzette and Miguel and his grandmother Yolanda to the family shelter in Irvington called Turning Point Community Services. Deacon Chris McCloud is the Director of the shelter and some of our members sit on the board. This gift will go to a child at the shelter.

Grief can do many things to us. At its worst, it can make us withdraw from life and shut out any rays of sunlight or joy. Or grief might lead us to offer ourselves to God’s service in helping others who struggle with similar challenges. Miguel and Suzette met several families at the hospital during Gabriel’s illness and even through their grief have continued to minister to those families with support and prayers.

The work of the church is to provide a place of hope and healing as well as be a center of pray and worship. We take God’s call seriously to minister to everyone who comes to us and to those God sends us to in strange and beautiful ways.

I was once asked to visit an elderly Jewish man in his last days. When I arrived in my collar he looked up at me with an expression of surprise and said sardonically, "What are YOU doing here?" And I said, "I don’t know, but since I’m here, how about we talk." And we had a good talk that day about the journey he was about to take.

We cannot know what is in store for us each day, but we need to be engaged in life in all its aspects to live into the gift of life that God has given us and to be of service to others. Sometimes it easier than others and sometimes we just need to get through to the next day and hope it’s better. But in all things God is near and calling us to move forward. Forward in love, forward in healing, forward in grace. Amen.

©2009 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

All Saints Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

As the familiar strains of "For All the Saints..." still hang in the air I want to welcome all the saints here today. For those of you who are visiting, a special welcome and invitation to join with us on the flip side of the Halloween coin. There are many stories of the origin of Halloween, but the fact that there are so many means its true origin lies in the obscure past. Most cultures have a celebration of the dead as a way of keeping the restless spirits away and there is something very primal about these celebrations that still move us even today.

The Christian Church tried to divert attention from these Pagan celebrations by placing feasts celebrating All Saints, who are equally as dead, but not malevolent. The Saints we celebrate today lived lives to inspire us in our faith and serve as examples to embrace rather than restless spirits to avoid and fear.

What has emerged over the centuries is a hybrid of celebration which acknowledges the darkness and light of how we approach death. It embraces the fear and hope with which all of us, at one time or another, experience when we mourn the death of a loved one or contemplate our own mortality.

The original purpose of costumes and noises were to scare the spirits away, though I must confess, I’m not sure the abundance of Princess and super hero outfits would have done the trick. Nor the baby dressed up as a strawberry. Maybe instead of scaring the restless spirits, they’ll melt their ghostie hearts and give them rest.

In any event, today is a major holiday in the church’s calendar to celebrate Saints past and present. It’s a day to embrace the lives of those who have served God faithfully and inspire us to do the same. It’s a day also to celebrate the living saints, all of us, and encourage us in our daily lives to strive toward the ideals we set in our lives of faith.

Today is also a day in which we Baptize and welcome three babies into the faith and fellowship of the Christian church, and a day those of us who are already baptized will renew our own baptismal vows.

The Gospel story we read today was the telling of the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. This story has elements of the Halloween costumes - where Lazarus emerges like a mummy from the tomb dressed in strips of cloth - and the joy of new life when those strips of cloth are taken away. The famous verse "Jesus wept" (expanded a little in this translation) shows the pain of loss, and sympathy for the pain of those who mourned for Lazarus. Shortly after, all grief is passed and the firm words of "Lazarus, come out!" and "Unbind him, and let him go." become words that triumph over the sadness.

God is the creator of life and the promise of the faith that we share and pass on to these babies and each other is that even in the deepest pit of grief, God will come and bring us into new life. Fear often binds us, and keeps us from living fully and loving fully. Jesus’ words, "Unbind him..." have particular meaning to those who get lost in grief. Just as the dead are unbound and transformed into new life, so too can those who grieve be unbound and transformed into new life.

At first I thought this was a rather gloomy choice for a lesson today. But the more I worked with it, the more I liked it. Especially for these babies. I think the words of Jesus can be expanded beyond the grief over one person, to the many ways we grieve in our lives, the ways we are bound, and the many ways we are transformed. Each time we experience a change, it’s like a small death has occurred. Changing jobs, changing homes, changing family structures - even changing ideas or ways of thinking. We often enter change fearfully, perhaps with tears, and misgiving. We grieve the old patterns and ways, and the uncertainty of the future can bind us and hinder us from moving forward. There is no doubt that sometimes change is painful, but it more often than not opens up to new life and new ways of thinking and living.

These days we’re living in are filled with changes that are definitely frightening and we do grieve the former days that now seem a lot more carefree. And we don’t know what tomorrow or the next day will bring. Fearfully we might wonder if it will bring more bad news. Faith gives us the strength to address change boldly and look for the growth that will occur if we look for it. God, the creator of life, creates new life in all situations.

These babies were born on the threshold of a changing world. Our global relationships are being tested and painfully restructured. The financial crisis can lend to better ways of doing business in a modern world. The rights of women, so long abused and denied around the world as well as in the US are being scrutinized and those abuses are being challenged. Race relations are entering vastly new territory with the election of President Obama, and the rights of gay men and lesbians are being addressed loudly. For each change, someone will cry "progress" and someone else will cry "disaster." But the faith of the saints who entered into the struggles of their day testify to the truth of God’s love and the perseverance of justice and wisdom. The words of Dr. King’s prose are especially pertinent when he said that "the arc of a moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice".

While some fear that life is ending, others proclaim that it is being transformed. The world is strong enough for justice. These babies will be part of that world transformed and their baptism signals that they will be raised with Christian teaching of love, inclusion, and justice. I also believe that just as the world is being transformed, the church is also. Too long has the church been bound by fear of change which has led it to be judgmental and hurtful. The pain it has caused lives side by side with the glory it has radiated, like the nights of Halloween and the sunny days of All Saints. But that is changing too. And I hope these babies will be part of it. The teachings and healing of Jesus cannot be eclipsed by the shortcomings of the church as a human institution. We need to be unbound by the fear of the unknown future and grief over the nostalgic past. Our faith in God can lead us to embrace the transforming power of God’s love in this world. So, when we are bound, listen for the voice of Jesus crying loudly, "Come out!... be unbound and go!" Parents and godparents of Ava, Gian Carlo, and Lucy; when their fears threaten to paralyze or bind them in their struggles and challenges, in the name and love of God, unbind them and let them go. We’ll help. Amen.

©2009 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ