9/12

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The first lesson is a difficult one today -- the story of how God helps the Israelites escape their bondage by crossing the Red Sea and rolls back the sea killing the Egyptians. There are scholarly explanations for this that give reasonable interpretations, but on a gut level it seems like mass killing -- regardless of how it's attempted to be justified. And on a day that we remember the horror or mass killings in New York, Washington DC and in a Pennsylvania field, it strikes a raw chord.

Those perpetrating the attacks felt justified and their actions changed the world and unleashed a backlash of war and suffering that has led to more and more killing. Each side calling out betrayal, each side calling out vengeance and each side calling out revenge and righteous anger. It doesn't stop. How can it stop?

Peter asked Jesus, Lord, how often should I forgive, seven times? The answer is seventy time seven -- meaning always. Because forgiveness is the only way to break a cycle of violence. It's so hard to forgive in these extreme circumstances. Perhaps Peter could also ask, Lord, What's the biggest sin I have to forgive? Are some sins so big that I don't have to or can't?

Jesus answered that question a short time later as he hung from the cross and said, Father forgive them, they don't know what they're doing. Sometimes there seem to be easy answers to everyday problems and issues, and maybe sometimes there are easy answers. But 911 was not an everyday problem and there are no easy answers. This 10th year observance has us all on edge. They tell us there are credible threats for attacks on the bridges or tunnels. Even without the threats, all the coverage has brought back the original attacks with such lurid details through images and recordings. It's as if the 10 years evaporated and we're there all over again. I value remembrance and honoring, but I also want to experience the hope of September 12.

I was the rector of a church in Queens when the planes hit the towers. I was in my apartment having a quiet cup of coffee when the phone rang and a parishioner asked if I'd seen the news. I turned it on and was dumbstruck. Her husband worked in the towers and she couldn't reach him. It turned out that he got out of the building, but the excruciating waiting that was to be repeated over and over again brings up a pain that I know you identify with. I went to church and opened the doors. All day people came in, sat, prayed, cried, waited. Waited for news and waited for another possible attack.

I've heard stories of the response that happened here at St. George's on that day. Again the church doors were opened and people streamed in. People from the neighborhood coming together to be with each other in their shock and grief. What a powerful witness that in such times our doors are opened and people are welcomed in and find ministry. At some point, I'm told there were songs and one that had a special place was America the Beautiful. That's why we sang it today with the Gospel.

In the days, weeks and months ahead life was different for everyone. The atmosphere in the city took a turn and people behaved differently. People were nice, caring, asking after each other, even strangers reached out to each other. People came from all over the country to help untangle the twisted remains of the buildings and lives that were shattered. It was remarkable to see the outpouring of love and unity not only from Americans, but people from all over the world. September 12th began the road to recovery on a wave of human spirit that was awe inspiring. The heroics of people on the morning of the 11th will be remembered today appropriately, but we can also remember the heroics of the people who reached out in love and fellowship in even the simplest of acts.

Part of recovery is also healing. Deep wounds heal, but they also leave scars. We have spiritual and psychic wounds as well as physical wounds. Part of the scars are the tensions and anxieties that accompany today. And part of the healing is evident in the hope that moved us forward one day at a time and continues to do so.

Further healing comes through forgiveness. The names and faces associated with terror from Osama bin Laden to his lieutenants don't inspire forgiveness even in their deaths. Peter's question nags at me. How many times must I forgive?

In the spiritual work I do, I'll describe issues I'm facing or conflicts and rather than hearing how I've been wronged, my director brushes my complaints aside and asks, What's your part in it? I hate that question. Because there always is a part in it. It's painful to walk through that and painful to make the amends that may be needed, but it's a medicine that brings healing. On our national scale, I ask the same question, What's our part in it? Is it unpatriotic to suggest we have a part to play? If we can't ask the question, much less try to answer it, our healing can never be complete.

In another place Jesus told his disciples to pray: Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. I don't have any answers to these, but the questions nag me.

I'd like to consider the first lesson again. I'm convinced that more than historical accuracy, the scriptures illustrate spiritual truths. There are gruesome aspects that have no reliable historical verification. They are stories that were handed down and no doubt embellished. Enemies are more fearsome, crimes more heinous, and revenge sweeter. But what gives life to stories are the spiritual truths they hold.

Like the people of Israel we can become enslaved to fears and limitations. We have to work hard to escape them and it doesn't always happen on the first try. We have to be tenacious to become our better selves. And we can really only do that with God's help. In the language of story and myth, each one of those Egyptians is a defect, a flaw, an entity, circumstance or memory that threatens to overtake us and recapture us, chaining us to the same old fears, and issues we need to escape. The victory for the Israelites came through God's help and the victory that each of us wins in the conflict with our own problems, hurts and issues will also come with God's help. A big tool in God's tool box is forgiveness. It's not easy and that's also reflected in the adventures of the Israelites who more than once during their forty year sojourn wondered if they would have been better off to stay in Egypt.

Healing takes work and determination. It takes faith and patience. It takes time. The Easter after 9/11 was 7 months later. I tried to put on a happy face for the crowds expected, because I thought that was my job. But I realized and told them that I wasn't happy. I wasn't feeling the Easter joy and I couldn't fake it. But I did have hope that day that healing would come in time. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul said that in the end three things remain, faith hope and love. I think that's true and that the story of the Israelites, while packaged in a questionable wrapper of gruesomeness, is a story of the survival of faith, hope and love.

I think the story of 9/11 and more importantly 9/12 also captures the essence of faith hope and love. Not in the attacks, but in the rebuilding that transcends it.

I baptized a baby at the family service and this afternoon I'll preside at the blessing of Civil Marriage. Our victory over adversity comes from the healing we pursue and the dedication to achieve it. Healing comes through forgiveness, faith hope and love. From the joy we find in our lives and the horizons and challenges God calls to follow. Amen.

© 2011 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Gentiles and Tax Collectors??

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Community plays an important role in faith traditions. This is certainly true of Jews and Christians. The community of believers is interwoven as a family that grew from its origins back in Genesis. Israel is always spoken of as a chosen "people", not a chosen person. The only one who might lay claim to being called a chosen "person" is Abraham. But he's the only one. After him it was a family faith and it grew into a community faith. The laws that emerged dealt with how the community would treat each other and settle differences. The underpinning of all the laws was the love of God and the justice God inspired as a show of love between God and neighbor. The teachings of Jesus continue this foundation of faith. Whenever a problem arises in the scriptures, it's because an individual or group has put itself ahead of the good of the community.

The Book of Leviticus has over 600 laws governing the people of Israel in every aspect of the communal life. Jesus narrowed the focus of these laws when he said they all amounted to two basic laws, love God and love your neighbor. Love implies justice, generosity and forgiveness.

I think any lawyer will tell you that laws exist because there was a conflict that required it to be written. Paul often tried to convince the early Christians that they didn't need any laws since once they started following Jesus they would be so full of love as to not need them. The law of love would be written on their hearts. It was a nice sentiment, but it didn't really play out as he intended. Laws still come into being whether they are in the form of ten on tablets of stone, or two from the mouth of Jesus, or 600 from Leviticus or the tomes that govern our nation or anyone else's. Laws come into being because living in community is hard work and often conflicted.

Jesus' teaching on conflict resolution comes in the context of parables like the lost sheep -- the one that leaves the ninety-nine and is found by the shepherd. It's a real example of how to go to great lengths to resolve conflict and more importantly restore the community to wholeness. The society of Jesus' time was known for blood feuds and vengeance killings or attacks. What he proposes may sound logical to us, even though difficult. But in his day this was very radical. Remember these are the people that would "smite" each other for small offenses!

Even still, as radical as the conflict resolution is, Jesus realizes that some conflicts can't be resolved. Sometimes a break occurs. He says that if you go to the lengths of meeting with the person alone, then with a couple witnesses, and then the whole community and it's still not resolved -- then let them be to you as a Gentile or tax collector.

This is the part that I find ironic, because Jesus' community extended in love even to Gentiles and tax collectors. There's still a circle to it. And it circles back to love and completion, and the constant call back into community.

The statements following this are tantalizing. "What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and what you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." The different Gospels have similar words to these in different contexts without a clear or final interpretation.

These statements were once interpreted in relation to the power or granting absolution during confessions. Taken out of context, it might suggest that the priest has the power to bind or release with far reaching implications. That interpretation is still alive in the world today, but it's a dangerous one and ultimately erroneous in my view.

I'd like to suggest an interpretation just based on life experience -- mine and some I've seen in others. It's about holding onto anger or grudges, or perhaps even frightening or hurtful memories. People can be so bound by their own inability to let go of the past that if hobbles their attempts to move forward. Resentments and anger fester and become bigger if not resolved. Fears become neurotic or obsessive if addressed. I think the phrase about binding on earth may have to do with this. Anger and fear that is held onto will stay with us and contaminate our spiritual growth. What we bind on earth will be bound in heaven.

On the other hand what we loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. What we can resolve and let go of, will no hinder us in our spiritual development or growth.

You're certainly free to choose your own interpretation, but I will never claim having the power to bind anyone or release anyone in this life or the next. That is between God and each individual!

The first lesson from Exodus shed an interesting angle to look at the Gospel. The story of the Passover seems a bit out of place here, but then again, perhaps not. The story of the Passover is about the events leading up to the freeing of the Israelite slaves out of Egypt. The last plague was about to be unleashed before Pharaoh would let them go. It's quite a detailed story -- recipes and dress codes included. But for our purposes it illustrates the lengths people will go to gain freedom.

Conflict with another person or people, society or nation is a form of bondage. Anger can lead to prejudice and injustice, murder or war. Spiritual and emotional battle takes place before physical battle does, and it's at that moment when the real spiritual bondage occurs. That which is bound can get bound very tight.

The freedom from that bondage, similar to the freedom of the Israelites, is found through the working of God's spirit and a different form of passing over from the slavery of resentment to the freedom of forgiveness. It's not easy but it is possible. What we loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

When it comes to conflict we might be right or wrong, we might be the righteous ones or the ones shunned like Gentiles or Tax Collectors, but mostly there's a murky in between where both parties played a role. Jesus' solution is a sound as any advice given. Try to resolve it privately. If that doesn't work call in others to do this important work. The goal is bringing the community back into wholeness and for the individual to be healed from the pain of conflict. When we do as much as we can, we can let it go, regardless of how the other person receives it. They may choose to remain bound, but we can always choose the freedom of loosening those bonds within ourselves.

I take a lot of comfort in knowing that even if we cannot close the gap in conflict and may have to let someone go, God won't. Jesus' followers may have shunned the Gentiles and Tax Collectors, but he didn't. He kept at them and, I believe, still does. Amen.

© 2011 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ