Sermons at St. George's Episcopal Church in Maplewood, NJ

9/12

2011-09-11T12:00:00.003-04:00

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.

Gentiles and Tax Collectors??

2011-09-04T12:00:00.038-04:00

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.

Seeds Will Wait

2011-07-10T16:15:00.000-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The parable of the sower is a beautiful illustration of how people receive the Word. It's also an illustration of the Word is constantly present in the many different places in the world, and in our lives.

When I first read this parable for this morning and read again how Jesus explains it, I thought that about sums it up. He just explained it. Who am I to add anything else? Do I dare ? Well, yes. That's part of the gift of parables, it's a gift that keeps on giving. We constantly see new things in them and open them in different ways.

"Word" is a pun right off the bat. Just as Jesus explains that the seed that is scattered is the word of God thrown onto different kinds of soil, we need to remember that he is the word made flesh and that he wandered all over Israel and the surrounding countries. He went to different types of land and the word took root in different ways as he went.

Some scoffed and turned away, some listened for a while and followed for time, but left when following him was getting politically dangerous. Some deserted him right at the end. And some stayed true the whole time. Jesus is the word made flesh and the seed that takes root in so many ways.

The types of soil can be different kinds of people and the varied circumstances of their lives that challenge them. This is the place where Jesus' explanation is the clearest. This is also where I'd like to add something. We are not just rocky people, or the types who only get eaten by birds or are shallow or even just good soil. People are complicated and we go through phases in our lives in which we reflect each of these conditions.

There's not just one shot at hearing the word of God and having it take root. One of the illustrations of the parable is the sower continually throws the seed even when he must realize it's going off the path and out of the cultivated field. And the sower doesn't just sow for one season, it's every season and every year, always in the hope of harvest.

I think that's how God works with us; constantly trying to get our attention and lovingly and extravagantly throwing seed even where a more prudent farmer would not.

The word of God is about love, reconciliation, hope, generosity, and most importantly about resurrection. Jesus preached about these things wherever he went - some heard it and some didn't. But what's even most amazing is that the ones who didn't hear it at first, came to hear it later on. One of the most notable examples of this is the Centurion at the crucifixion who exclaimed, "Truly, this was the son of God."

We hear messages of love our whole lives long. Sometimes we soak it in and sometimes we don't want to hear it. We hear wise people talk of forgiveness and how important it is, and we agree until someone has hurt us so badly that we cannot find forgiveness in our hearts. And then one day we do. We go from rocky soil to good soil.

Seeds last a long time. That's one of the incredible characteristics about seeds. They appear dead, but hold the potential for life deep within, just waiting until the environment is right. Again, God is like that. Patiently waiting until the conditions are right to take root.

Finally each pod or flower that grows from the seed produces seeds of its own. And that's where we come in. The word of God that was planted in us and grows through the varied stages and conditions of our lives, produces seeds of witness that we in turn scatter where we go. Some people listen and some don't, or rather they don't seem to, but might just have the seed dormant until they need it.

In the first lesson from Isaiah, we heard the beautiful canticle from the 55th Chapter:

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

Behind the poetry and the parables is the sincere conviction that God loves us and will keep at us until the ground is fertile for us to hear that message. It's all around us and will take root.

Amen.

A Prophet's Reward

2011-06-26T12:00:00.027-04:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Jesus talked to his disciples about welcoming. "Those who welcome you welcome me, those who welcome me welcome the one who sent me." "Those who welcome a prophet receive a prophet’s reward and those who welcome a righteous person receive a righteous person’s reward."

I don't know what a prophet's reward is, nor do I know what a righteous person's reward is. From my search on the internet, no one else seems to either. Since everyone else is making a guess, I might as well hazard one mysef. My guess comes from some recent experiences I've had.

I belong to several groups which focus on different areas of study and interest. Some are biblical, a couple are fairly esoteric, some are related to health and healing, some to forms of recovery, as well as some others. While engaging in each of these groups my spirit and intellect are engaged in different ways. My interests are expanded and energized, and I come away from them refreshed and renewed in one or more areas of my life.

I attended a session of our Sunday morning Bible Study last week and had a wonderful conversation about the Book of Acts, and I received a Bible student's reward in that part of my intellect and spirit was refreshed. I attended an ecumenical clergy meeting earlier in the week and we had a spirited conversation ab out Biblical laws from Christian, Moslem and Jewish points of view, and I received the reward of collegial study and interfaith dialogue.

So my thinking about the prophet's reward and that of a righteous person is colored by these experiences. Prophets have a way of engaging the world that interpret God's activity and relationship in the world with social justice and connections between faith and action for the good of all people. The righteous person engages the world focused more on individual relationships and day to day encounters. Welcoming these people brings a reward of opening our eyes and hearts to the lessons they teach and helping us engage the world and, in fact, live in the world with a wider vision and a deeper sense of God's grace in it.

But then Jesus ends this section of the conversation with the most important part. Those who welcome children with even a cup of water will not lose their reward. Children bring a joy and simplicity, an openness and wonder. A child's reward is innocence and unambiguous joy. Not a bad reward for a cup of water.

This weekend in New York culminates in the Gay Pride parade. Each year it gets bigger and it's voice gets louder. The passage of the Marriage Equality legislation is an astounding stride forward in social justice. It is a wonderful form of being welcomed. It is a prophet's reward, and the rewards of many righteous people are abounding.

Many months ago I was asked by friends, two men, to do their wedding in Connecticut. They are New York residents and since at that point Marriage equality in New York didn't seem possible, they decided Connecticut was their best option. So the plans were made for a simple ceremony in a lovely park in Greenwich. I called them in the morning and asked if the NYC ruling changed their plans and they said no. So off we went. I got there early and sat in the park reading the paper with a cup of coffee. The early priest gets the early priest's reward!

While I was sitting there an older man walked by, seeing me in my collar and no doubt seeing the front page of the Times which I was reading said, "Today's not as good as yesterday." I didn't feel like a debate so I simply responded "Any day the sun goes up and comes back down, is a good day." He chuckled and went his way. Perhaps his reward was in a simple exchange.

When the couple arrived with the guests we held the brief ceremony and it was very emotional, not only for the vows that every married couple or those in Civil Union make, but just the deep and spiritually refreshing experience of the access these two men had to a legal and sacramental ceremony that has only been granted for a relatively short time. We've done several Civil Unions here in this church and to experience something so simple and yet so profound that is still violently debated is very powerful. That is a prophet's reward.

After the ceremony we were wiping our tears and taking pictures and enjoying the beautiful day and the exquisite moment when a woman came down the path with a newly made bouquet of flowers. This total stranger, her own eyes glistening said she was so happy for these men as she watched unseen from a distance that she felt compelled to do something and handed the flowers to them. A little different from a cup of water, but such beautiful simplicity and gracious welcome felt like an angel's visit. She was a righteous person whose joy was the type of reward that the man I'd encountered earlier could not have understood. I'm not suggesting that he's unrighteous, but there is so much joy available, it's a shame not to experience as much as we can.

The first lesson this morning describes God's call to Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. He came so close to losing his son because he felt it was God's will. Only at the last minute did he get deflected and heard the greater call to spare his son and restore his family. Genesis said that God tested Abraham in doing this. I'm not sure God puts us to that kind of test, but I do understand the kind of temptation that can destroy things we love all the time thinking we're either doing the right thing or at the very least a harmless thing.

Remaining on the topic of Gay Pride Week, many parents have sacrificed their children thinking they were doing God's will and haven't heard the call to stop. Last week we heard a powerful witness of the struggles that inspired the Negro Spirituals in our recognition of Juneteenth. In it was another example of destruction of God's children in many ways, while adhering to a belief in God's will, permission or obscene gift. God's will is love, peace and justice. Despite the many temptations society finds to sacrifice the innocent for purposes they feel are justified and defended, even inspired by God - in the end it is life and restoration that is the will of God. So we welcome prophets, and righteous people and children in the name of God and in doing so receive their reward. Amen.

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

Temptation

2011-03-13T14:25:00.002-04:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A woman was showing her friend a dress she bought earlier in the day. It was a beautiful dress but she was nervous because money was tight in the family and she hadn't discussed the purchase with her husband. She was afraid he was going to be mad. She assured her friend she tried to resist the temptation. She said, "I could feel the devil tempting me, telling me I should get it and he kept at me, tempting and tempting until I shouted 'Get behind me Satan!'" Her friend shouted "Amen" but then looked confused and asked, "then why do you have the dress?"

"Because I heard the Devil say, 'Mm mm mm, it looks even better from the back.'"

Play write Oscar Wilde wrote, "I can resist anything but temptation." Few stories are more delicious about temptation than that of Eve and the apple. How many of us are fine until we're told what NOT to do? Imagine that rush of joy she felt after the first bite when her eyes were opened and she saw as she had never seen before. And then the consequences.

The temptations of Jesus is a story that shows a very human dimension in a man whose humanity we often lose track of. Most stories focus on the miracles and healing, the great teaching and other stories that reveal the truly divine in him, But this story, placed strategically on the first Sunday in Lent, demonstrates a truly human characteristic. As we enter Lent and are encouraged to look at our own temptations and how we did or did not give into them, we do so from the vantage point of seeing Jesus in a similar situation. His temptations were our temptations in the way that there is nothing new under the sun.

The temptations were about materials, power, and glory. Whether it's making bread when you're hungry, or proving that you can't get hurt, or placing yourself in a position to be adored by others -- the situations are different but at their heart, all temptations fit these categories.

The devil also plays a common role, using what we love to make us do what we don't want to do. Here, the devil uses scripture to tempt Jesus. He says, "It is written 'He will command His angels concerning you... On their hands they will bear you up....'" Misusing scripture is an old trick also. Jesus deftly parries each use of scripture with another verse.

Jesus resists each temptation, but it's wonderful for us that he had them. As in so many situations, he shows us the way out of trouble. Temptation exists, but we don't have to give in.

The current recession is a litany of temptations for material, power and glory that we given in to with disastrous results. On so many levels the desire to have more, to be more impressive, or to exert more muscle and gain economic power and prestige proved too strong for so many who wanted their own corner of Eden and ended up being pushed out. There's nothing wrong with wanting and working toward goals, but when they become obsessive or necessary for concepts of self worth, we enter a dangerous place.

Jesus reached what may have been the most decisive moment of his earthly life. Had he made the bread, or jumped, or bowed to the devil in exchange for glory, things would have turned out very differently for all of us. But he didn't. He embraced who he was and kept perspective on what was really important -- his relationship with God and other people. He did not strive to be better than others, but relished being equal to them.

The Apostle Paul writes about the theme of temptation and obedience in his Epistle. He compares Adam and Jesus, whom he refers to occasionally as the new Adam. The old Adam's disobedience led to his downfall and the new Adam whose obedience led to his resurrection. The analogy is for our benefit and it's not about punishment for crimes as much as it is as a way of living. Those whose lives are filled with the obsessive need to get more stuff, power or glory create a hell for themselves of looking over their shoulders to see who's going to knock them down. We're seeing this play out tragically in the Middle East. The opposite of this scene is one that played out in South Africa with Nelson Mandela, who is one of my heroes. He had his own moments of temptation and decision. Amid blood thirsty calls for revenge and plunder, his own anger at his imprisonment, he chose a path of peace and reconciliation. We see these temptations in scripture in the language of story and symbol, we see them played out on the world stage and the season of Lent is to give us a time to see how it plays out in our lives.

We all have our own moments of decision. Nations are not resting on most of ours, but lives of people important to us are impacted by our decisions and how we respond to temptations. The language of Genesis has God expelling Adam and Eve, but I think it was they who chose to leave without realizing it. Just as we leave the peace and serenity of our lives when we choose to make harmful decisions. The choices may not be conscious, but they are real none the less.

Jesus shows us how to regain Eden by loving God and our neighbor. The scriptures are for our learning, the traditions of the church are a vehicle to put that learning into practice. This season of Lent is one such tradition. Its solemnity symbolizes how seriously we take the opportunity to examine ourselves and sift our choices. The disciplines of giving up something or taking something on that challenge us and help us grow, stretch us and give a glimpse of how we might improve. They all add up to a preparation for the feast of the Resurrection called Easter in which the promise of Jesus is echoed again that there is always new life, even in the midst of sadness or destruction.

When we take a snapshot of our world today, there is so much pain and anguish. The ongoing war and strife in Afghanistan and Iraq, the terrible earthquake in Tokyo as well as the one a year ago in Haiti. Temptations come in the form of what we want to do for ourselves and another form of temptation comes in feeling powerless to meet challenges which seem too big for us.

If we focus on the pain and anguish, we'll miss the signs of resurrection in their midst. People meet suffering with love. For every problem and challenge, there are people who work in a variety of ways to address it. Friends helping other friends, groups of people helping each other and in some cases nations helping each other. Next week a group of children from Africa who are orphaned by AIDS and other diseases or violence in their own country will witness to us the power of resurrection in their lives. They've risen to meet their challenges with faith and courage. Their song and movement are signs of their triumph. They are not paralyzed or broken by their tragedies and setbacks. They might be tempted to give in, but they don't.

None of us have guarantees of lives without tragedy or setbacks. I think the first temptations for materials, power and glory are attempts to barricade ourselves from such things, but ultimately such attempts fail. The biggest temptation is to believe that God has abandoned us and left us to our own devices. But again and again we see how God is at work in the love and persistence of the good that is present in people who meet their challenges in faith and help others to do so. Worshiping God is a way of tapping into that strength and courage to meet our own struggles.

In Luke's version of this story he said that after the Devil departed, he waited for another opportune time to visit Jesus. Matthew doesn't have that, but there's some truth in that too. Temptation comes whether the devil is in front of us or behind us, at very surprising times.

Use Lent as a time to think about these things and to allow them to make the promise of new life and resurrection strengthen us to meet life's challenges. Amen.

"Let your light so shine"

2011-02-06T12:00:00.027-05:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the Gospel we heard, "Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven."

One of the dominant themes of Epiphany is light. It's an important symbol in much of the scriptures and is used in different ways. It's a way of illustrating truth, wisdom, and God's grace. Scriptures refer to Jesus as the Light of the World, or the Light to enlighten the Nations. In the prologue to the Gospel of John, it says, "In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it."

This light called Jesus invites us to let out light shine before others. It's a beautiful image and a common one, but somehow never loses it's power. Today, being the first Sunday of February we begin a series of Sundays focusing on Black History Month. We'll have different guest speakers and forums that are listed in your bulletin and you'll hear more about them as the weeks progress. The Absalom Jones Committee has done a lot of work preparing the events and I'm really glad they are letting their lights shine before others. Earlier in the Gospel passage Jesus said that no one hides a light under a bushel, but puts it on a lamp stand. While that may be true with physical lights or candles, it's not always true of people and their good works.

The light of African Americans was hidden for many years from history lessons. The cultural and scientific contributions, the art, music, religious, military -- so many aspects hidden for so many years. The purpose of Black History Month is to raise awareness, not only of what has been left out of the general history pages, also serves as a reminder of the danger of omitting it.

I often refer to myself as a walking guilt trip. If I'm downtown and pass by one of our parishioners who wasn't in church the past Sunday, as I'm saying hello I'm hearing why they weren't in church. It's as though my very presence is an accusation. Believe me when I tell you, I just want to say hello. Similarly, the existence of Black History Month can be perceived as a finger of accusation for the wrongs of the past. Slavery, lynching, false accusation and wrongful imprisonment, and the many ways that racism raises it's ugly head in employment, housing, education and all aspects of our common lives cannot be denied or glossed over. That is part of the history that can best be healed by honesty and shining a light on a past that is painful for those whose ancestors bore the worst of it, and who still feel the legacy of racism today. Healing is also necessary for those of us whose ancestors perpetrated the worst of it, and who still engage in it today in varying degrees.

The real value of Black History Month in my opinion is the opportunity to challenge everyone to allow their light to shine -- the light of truth and the light of God's love to find healing, reconciliation and growth. Many of you know that I grew up in Rhode Island and I'm very proud of my little home state, often referred to in some history books as "Rogues' Island." It's always had a salty history that most Rhode Islanders look at with smug pride -- things like smuggling and old fashioned rum running. But like so many, the state has a dirty little secret. The Brown family, a prominent family in the history of that state, for whom Brown University is named, has a large section in the state history books for their accomplishments and noble adventures. What was left out of the history books of my grammar school was that the Brown family made their fortune in the slave trade.

We were always taught that slavery was the vice of the Southern States and that the virtuous north was responsible for ending it. It seems that was not the case. The Browns certainly gained a lot by promoting that slant on history, and so did many others. The sad truth was hidden under pages of other history that allowed untainted pride.

What is to be served by revealing the dirty little family secret? People are owed the truth, even when it's painful. The scriptures are full of it's heroes and heroines whose nobility is tempered by their failings. That's part of it's richness and part of its offer of salvation and healing. Moses murdered a man. King David cheated and set up a man to be killed so he could marry the man's wife. Peter denied Jesus at his time of need. Paul persecuted the church and presided of the killing of Stephen, the first martyr of the Christian Church. Scriptures don't gloss over the painful truth, but shows how God can work even through the failings of people and create something good.

Scriptural history, Black History, even the history of Rogues' Island is not about guilt, it's about honesty. Sometimes we have to hear painful truths and sometimes we have to tell painful truths. But Black History Month is certainly not only about pain. It's in fact more about triumph, as is scripture.

In twelve step work with substance and alcohol abusers there is a list of promises made to those who can stay clean and sober. One of the promises is "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it." For people whose lives have been a long path of wreckage, most of which they created themselves, this promise seems very far out of reach, almost to be unrealistic and impossible. For people who would rather forget the past, the idea that it would not be regretted seems absurd. And yet, experience shows that to be the case. Shining the light of honesty of the tangled past is the beginning of healing -- for those who were hurt and for those who did the hurting. Denying allows wounds to fester, truth allows them to heal.

In South Africa the work they've done on reconciliation is a model for the world. It doesn't erase the past but allows honesty to help them transcend it. Again, it's not about guilt, it's about healing.

As Black History Month progresses there are important voices to be heard, and not all of them are Black. Black History is an artificial category. There is only one history that people of all races participated in, inherited and will live into. Revealing it's fullness is an ongoing adventure that requires imagination, courage and yearning.

As the weeks unfold we'll hear stories and learn things. We'll capture a beauty and richness that builds us all up and no doubt hear painful truths that also need to be shared. Life is complicated and messy. It's also wonderful. Faith and grace play large roles in that life. God is with us and is the source of light. The Book of Genesis tells us that when God made light, God said it was good. And it is. And the same light of God shines through Jesus and invites us to let our light shine as well. The light that we shine gives glory to God because it returns that which we have received. We have much to learn, much to live and while the past is past, God is the light that will shows us the present and will guide us into the future. Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to God in Heaven. Amen.

"Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God"

2011-01-30T12:00:00.036-05:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The lesson from Micah is a well known passage and quoted often. "What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?"

Micah was a contemporary of the prophet Isaiah. He was a bit younger though and from very different circumstances. Isaiah was very famous and had a prominent role in the court of the King. In his writings it's clear that Isaiah was able to speak to the King whenever he wanted and was also on call if the King wanted to talk to him. Isaiah was in a place of influence and on more than one occasion used it to sway the King's foreign policy.

Micah, on the other hand, was from a small town outside the capital city of Jerusalem and was not a man of position or stature. Since they were contemporaries they wrote about the same events, but what makes their prophecies interesting is the lenses through which they see those events, their causes and the impacts.

Through Isaiah's eyes we see how the King wrestled with the severe issues facing him. The biggest threat was the Assyrian army bearing down on them. It was a perennial threat that spanned the reigns of several kings. Both Isaiah and Micah lived and wrote over the course of those reigns, but through Isaiah's work we can see the complications of political intrigue and the difficult decisions each King faced regarding alliances and actions that would protect them without provoking their much larger neighbor.

Micah, could not have seen the inner workings of the court, but his writings have more of the common touch. He wrote from the perspective of the average person who looks at their leadership with an almost childlike trust and simple hope for solution. Political solutions always seem simple to the people on the outside. But where Micah is not naive is in his experience of the failure of society on the level of the common person.

He could see first hand the effects of injustice -- judges bribed or educated shop keepers taking advantage of uneducated customers. The inequality of power and the abuse of authority is nothing new to the common person for whom it was an every day experience.

I picked up a book recently titled, The Preacher and the Presidents. It's about Billy Graham and how his long career has spanned the presidencies from Harry Truman to Barack Obama. Like many, I don't agree with his theology, but I am also impressed by his ability to be among the inner circle of the presidents of two parties who looked to him as a pastor and adviser. In his work I can see a reflection of Isaiah as one who was close to the seat of power while maintaining the spiritual authority to speak out for or against issues of the day according to his faith and not his politics. Even that got complicated for him and he made some grave errors in judgment, but in terms of an illustration, it's helpful. Part of the book focuses on his relationship and interaction with Martin Luther King, Jr during the civil rights struggle. Two men of faith -- one close to the seat of power and one close to the injustice on the street seeing the solutions from very different lenses and yet their conversations with each other influenced some of the shape of the civil rights struggle.

It's fascinating history and also remarkable how often it's repeated through out history with different issues and different players. Micah and Isaiah also contrasted in their approach to the issues of their day based on the situations in which they lived and the information they had available to them. But where each of them agreed completely was in the need for true religion. Not the same beliefs, mind you, but the integrity of the behavior coming from those beliefs.

Micah watched and wrote about the carful attention to the temple worship -- as did Isaiah. Sometimes it was done perfectly and other times it was not, but both agreed that the worship meant nothing if the same people who attended it still cheated, still accepted bribes, and still abused their authority. Micah was exasperated by what he saw and simply said, "What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God?"

This lesson is paired with the Gospel lesson we call the Beatitudes. It also is an often quoted part of scripture and lists the ways in which people are blessed by the ways in which they stay in relationship with God. It is a gathering of the promises of God for people who are in need -- those who hunger, those who thirst, those who are poor in spirit, meek, those who mourn, the pure in heart and the peacemakers. They are blessed not because they are lucky, certainly, but because God's love and grace will touch and heal them. They are blessed because they are not forgotten or forsaken. God comes to us in our times of need, and that is God's promise.

Friday and Saturday of this weekend was the annual convention of the Diocese of Newark. The theme of this convention was "Stepping Out in Audacious Faith." There are over a hundred churches in this Diocese of Newark which covers the geographical region of the top third of the state of New Jersey. Each year, the last weekend of January delegations from each church meet to take care of the business of the Diocese, such as passing a budget and voting on resolutions that impact the common lives of the churches. There's singing, eating, haggling, voting, witnessing and celebrating in varying degrees and with varying outcomes.

I have to pause here to recognize our delegates Tom Savoth, Cheryl Notari and Valyrie Laedlein. And also recognize our members who serve on the staff of the Diocese -- Michael Francaviglia, Nina Nicholson and Diane Sammons. Other members serve on Diocesan committees -- Lindsay McHugh, Martha Gardner, Aleeda Crawley, Susan Chrystal and myself. St. George's is well represented and we're proud of you all!

The guest speaker was Bishop Julio Murry from the Diocese of Panama. There has been a program within the National Church for many years called Companion Dioceses which pairs a Diocese in the US with other Dioceses outside the US especially among those in developing countries. Panama is our companion Diocese and through Bishop Murray we learned about the issues they face, particularly among the poor and struggling of that country. Missions trips will be planned and I hope that St. Georgians will be available to participate and take advantage of the opportunities such a relationship will bring. Adults and youth from this diocese who have been gave witness to their trips and told how life changing they were. How abstract issues that we hear in the news become real. For a young person to say he'd heard about the poor in school or the news and different it is to be in a place that is so poor and talk with other youth whose lives are very different from theirs. What became even more profound was not the comparisons of who has what, but the faith that sustains them in the challenges that each face. Our circumstances are very different, but our reliance on God is the same. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

We saw filmed accounts of churches in this diocese who have addressed the needs of their communities in some really creative ways. Some starting worship services for autistic children and other special needs, some creating soup kitchens, and others allowing people from the town to grow vegetables on unused church property that is used in the soup kitchens. Blessed are those who hunger for they shall be filled.

Conventions are a lot of work and very tiring. But they are a good time to see God working in this part of the state by the Episcopal church. We are a small denomination and as the Bishop said in an address, many people don't even know who we are, let alone how to spell our name. But we have a lens through which we see God and it's a good one and God calls us all, no matter who we are or where we are and shows us ministries that only we can do. The task of each church community is to discern, that is figure out, what that ministry is.

St. George's has had a long history of witnessing to social justice. From women's rights to advocacy for the homeless, co-founding shelters and gathering food and necessities for mothers and children, witnessing for marriage equality and much more. We've been a teaching parish hosting field education students from local seminaries and preparing them for ministry in many other places. We are a healing parish. Through prayer and anointing, welcome and fellowship, we heal those who have been hurt by other churches or injured by life's tragedies. We offer God's healing in prayer and witness that all people are loved by God. Our ministry is important to us and it grows and changes through out the years, but what remains the same is the desire to bring integrity to our worship through the love it inspires us to show each other and reflect in the world. Often we get it right, sometimes we fall short, but we are blessed in what we try to do when we keep in mind that all that God really requires of us is to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. Amen.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Sunday

2011-01-16T14:16:00.003-05:00

By Ulysses Grant Dietz

Dear God, open my mind and set it free;
open my heart and set it on fire.

You see me today dressed in the full “vestments” of my position as an American curator--something I gave up wearing to church many years ago. This is the uniform I drag out when I go to meetings of the Museum’s board of trustees, or maybe to openings at another museum: the native costume of my people. Think of it as equivalent to the floor-length cope that Bernie wears every year when we chant the Great Litany at the start of Advent. I wear this today because this is, for me, a momentous and somewhat intimidating occasion.

One reason I was chosen to preach today (Bernie sort of tipped his hand in the announcements last week) is that I am entering my second year as a board member of the SO/Maplewood Community Coalition on Race. The Coalition’s mission statement is to achieve and sustain the benefits of a thriving, racially integrated and truly inclusive community that serves as a model for the nation. Words to live by indeed; words that have inspired me for years, and a mission that surely reflects the goals that MLK Jr. set out to achieve fifty years ago. But while I continue to learn how to live out that mission statement here in this town, and to understand how to be a useful member of that organization, you must all understand that it is because of my twenty-five year membership in this parish that I could accept the call to be part of the Coalition’s board. In this place the lessons of my life have come together. This is where my spirit lives and thrives and continues to grow. I just wanted to be clear about that from the start.

The other reason the Absalom Jones Committee zeroed in on me was the accident of my birth. I am the younger son of the youngest daughter of the only son of the eldest son of Ulysses S. Grant. Got that? Great-great grandson; the youngest descendant of my generation. But the unfortunate truth is that in the generations after Ulysses S. Grant won the war that freed the enslaved people of the United States, my Grant ancestors embraced the prevailing racism that followed the collapse of reconstruction. As proud as I am of my longstanding Republican ancestry, it was only when my then 92-year-old mother voted for Barack Obama in 2008 that—for me—the lingering taint of racism was once and for all washed away. It was a watershed moment in my mother’s life (representing the ongoing liberal influence of both of her sons, I might add); a spiritual and intellectual journey of which she was and remains inordinately proud.

I used to joke, thirty years ago when I first started my job at the Newark Museum, that on any given day I was the whitest person in Newark. I have lived my entire life as a child of WASP privilege, from the silver spoon in my mouth at birth, to my prep school and Ivy League education, to the thirty-year career as a museum curator in what is probably the whitest of all professions in America. Through Ulysses S. Grant I am a descendant of Richard Warren, a passenger on the Mayflower in 1620—although I say so with mixed feelings since I share that same line of descent with the actor Richard Gere, Franklin D. Roosevelt and the folk artist Grandma Moses—oh, and Sarah Palin. You really can’t choose your family.

You can, however choose your heroes.

Being a dutiful St. Georgian, let’s briefly revisit today’s scripture. Isaiah gives us some great material:

“I will give you as a light to the nations,
that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth."
Thus says the LORD, to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations,
the slave of rulers, "Kings shall see and stand up, princes, and they shall prostrate themselves, because of the LORD…who has chosen you."

Well, that seems to work. I can see the life and work of Dr. King in that scripture.

It’s just as well that Paul’s epistle was eliminated for today in favor of an excerpt from Dr. King’s famous “I have a dream” speech, because I couldn’t get much out it anyway. John’s Gospel is much better—the well known verses about John the Baptizer being the forerunner of Jesus who will baptize with the Holy Spirit. I can’t think of a better foreshadowing of the life of MLK Jr.—prophet, leader, martyr, Christian saint. But, enough scripture...

I can’t pinpoint the moment in my life when Martin Luther King Jr. became a hero to me. I am fairly sure that my more mature, deeper understanding of Martin Luther King Jr. in all his human complexity—his strength as well as his human weaknesses—came to me through the writing of Taylor Branch, and through his monumental trilogy on Dr. King’s life—Parting the Waters, Pillar of Fire, and At Canaan’s Edge. But I know that even before reading these books, my admiration and respect for Martin Luther King Jr. had long since taken root.

I can remember, perhaps six years ago, taking my son Alex to the Lincoln Memorial on a cold rainy Thanksgiving weekend and standing with him on the bronze plaque marking the spot where MLK Jr delivered his “I have a dream” speech. For me, to stand on that spot was to visit a holy place, and I was glad that my children are of the generation for whom Dr. King’s importance is taken as a matter of course, and who are taught his life and work in school.

And I also can vividly recall an annual meeting of the Ulysses S. Grant Association held in Washington, DC, perhaps a decade ago. One of our activities that weekend was a private visit to the archives of the Library of Congress, where the curator pulled out various Civil War documents that we were allowed to hold and study closely. At one point the curator, knowing my connection to the Civil War general, handed me a thin sheaf of typed pages in a protective Mylar sleeve. I wondered what interest this could be until I read the first words:

“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.”

There in my hand was the typescript of the “I have a dream” speech—the actual speech that Dr. King held in his hands as he made history that hot summer day in 1963. It might as well have been a piece of the true cross. I trembled to hold that paper in my hands.

It embarrasses me that I have no vivid childhood memory of Dr. King’s assassination in April 1968. Surely I was aware of him, but I was thirteen, in 8th grade, and my only real memory of that spring was our class trip to Washington DC. I’m sure I was shocked, but I am also sure that Dr. King’s death didn’t affect me the way it did African American teenagers on that sad day. His death seemed distant from my reality, in spite of the headlines that would have come into our home through newspapers and television. But I can say that it was almost certainly the first time the death of a black man had ever made it onto my personal radar, or that of any of my white friends growing up in Syracuse, New York.

I asked my brother Jed what he remembered about this day—he is eight years my senior and was a junior at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He remembers that day vividly. He was vice president of the powerful student council at UNC Chapel Hill—an ardent young Republican deeply committed to civil rights (which might sound odd, but this was the 1960s, when the idea of a moderate, or even a liberal Republican, had not yet become anathema). That very evening my brother was presiding over the student council in a heated debate over whether the university should actively market itself to black high school students in North Carolina. Apparently, students in North Carolina’s mostly black urban high schools in the years after integration were still unaware that they actually had the right to apply to UNC, so deeply ingrained was the traditional pattern of segregation. The southern democratic members of the student council were vehemently against this marketing outreach, fearful of how it might change their alma mater. It was the young republican contingent—my brother among them—that was arguing for reaching out to these students who, till that moment, had generally been ignored by this elite southern university.

But the debate ended when the news was received of Dr. King’s assassination in Memphis. My brother suspended the meeting and these students—privileged white students—dispersed to ponder the violent death of a figure that, whatever they thought of him, mattered in their lives and had already reshaped life as it was lived in the American South.

It also shames me that I can’t give any account of how Dr. King’s life and death affected someone who was a constant presence in my life as a teenager: a woman named Vernice Curry, the black woman who cleaned our house and took care of us as a family for seventeen years—all of my childhood. If you have read, or even heard of the recent best-selling novel by Kathryn Stockett, The Help, set in Jackson Mississippi in the early 1960s, you will know that its plot revolves around the complex relationships between a group of black maids and their employers. I remember reading this fascinating book last year with a sense of superiority because my family wasn’t mean like those people in Mississippi were. I was brought up short by a close friend who asked me just how different my world in Syracuse really was from the world depicted in Jackson? My life in Syracuse in the early 1960s was full of these black women. Virtually every family on my street had their own Vernice: I remember seeing them going home from work at the end of each day—those who didn’t live in—in their white or pink or pale blue uniforms and white nurses shoes, heading up the hill to the bus stop that would take them to the part of Syracuse I rarely saw or even thought of. It never occurred to me watching Leave it to Beaver or—even more bizarrely, The Andy Griffiths Show, set as it was in the rural South—that a crucial element of my life was missing from those supposed depictions of the world I inhabited. I can vividly remember kissing Vernice’s plump cheek every day when I got home from school. I can remember sitting with her in our family room, while she ironed my father’s shirts and we watched Let’s Make a Deal together. I can remember her the morning after the sudden and unexpected death of my younger brother in 1969, serving coffee and breakfast to the shocked gathering of my grief-stricken family, dressed in her best crisp white uniform, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. But I have no memory of the Friday morning after Dr. King was killed, or how hard it must have been for her to come to work that day. Did I ask her how she felt? Did I tell her I was sorry? How I took Vernice’s presence for granted; and how little thought I gave to what Dr. King meant to her.

Ironically, if my sheltered WASP upbringing wasn’t designed to help me embrace MLK Jr. as a hero, it did prepare me in other ways. It was at my elite New England prep school, Phillips Exeter Academy, that I first had black classmates—classmates who were in many cases my seniors and thus had to be respected. I remember Paul, from Detroit, who called me “boy” and took good natured pleasure in lifting my scrawny little carcass up over his huge afro (I was small in the 10th grade and he was very tall). And I remember another black student, another Paul, slender and effeminate, who lived in my dorm and was the first gay classmate I ever knew from Exeter. He now lives in LA as a performer under the name Paul Outlaw.

And it was in the hallowed halls at Yale that I lived in close contact with Jews for the first time in my life—Yale’s housing service must have assumed my German last name was Jewish, and so all three of my freshman roommates were Jewish. It was from them that I began to learn about the vast Jewish community in the tri-state area around New York City. Growing up in Syracuse I’d never even eaten a bagel. The unwritten quotas that had kept the number of Jewish students strictly limited at the Ivy League schools into the 1960s were gone, swept away in the rapid cultural changes spearheaded by the civil rights work Dr. King. And, of course, it was also at Yale that I met Gary Berger, and became the first person in my family’s history ever to marry outside the Protestant country club, in more ways than one.

But it was also during my Ivy League education that I came to grips with what being part of a disenfranchised minority could mean. Being gay at Yale in the early 1970s meant either being invisible (a path not open to black students, or for that matter, Jewish students) or being marginalized and denied access to the sort of power networks that made Yale such a good place for the Bushes, the Buckleys, and even for the Clintons.

But I don’t want to minimize the importance Dr. King’s legacy by trying to make too much of myself as part of an oppressed minority. I was born lucky, and my life has been blessed, and unlike Dr. King I am lucky enough to have lived long enough to regret growing older—but I have also lived long enough to see the young fruit of Dr. King’s labors begin—just begin—to ripen.

Choosing to settle down in Maplewood 30 years ago was a stroke of luck. I wanted to find Leave it to Beaver, to recapture the blinkered vision of my happy childhood in Syracuse. We arrived here, fully expecting to be tolerated at best by the people in town. Instead, Gary and I a found a town that may have looked like the 1950s, but was already starting to live out a new vision—the vision created by MLK Jr in the 1960s and fostered by folks like the people who founded the SO/Maplewood Community Coalition on Race fifteen years ago. But these towns, like this church, remain to this day a bubble of integration and acceptance of diversity in a state that is still among the most segregated in the nation.

Dr. King said on the steps of the Lincoln memorial in 1963:

I have a dream that one day... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. [W]e will be be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands..."

My children, who are not white, have never been taunted because of their skin color, nor because they are adopted, nor because they have two fathers, nor because one of their fathers is Jewish. They have black friends, and Asian friends, and white friends, and even gay friends—all of which would have been unimaginable in the Syracuse of my childhood.

The road to civil rights paved by MLK Jr. is not complete. The legal instruments of justice and equal civil rights for all Americans are largely in place—with some glaring exceptions. Living into those legal facts, however, is still, as we all know too well, a work in progress. But we are on that road, and together we are moving forward.

Martin Luther King Jr. died a year before the historical beginning of the gay rights movement (or, as the conservative right calls it, the Gay Agenda). Coretta Scott King, in 2004, two years before her death, angered the more conservative side of her community when she spoke out in favor of same-sex marriage, saying “Gay and lesbian people have families, and their families should have legal protection, whether by marriage or civil union…” You can’t imagine the impact that her words had on me and my family. Mrs. King didn’t need to say that. Her late husband’s legacy would have been safe even had she kept silent. Which is why her speaking out made such a difference.

Martin Luther King Jr.’s mission was to bring justice and equality to his people. And his people were black people. But his people were also all people. Jesus was the messiah for the Jews—but he was also the messiah for the gentiles. His people came first, but he embraced all people, especially the despised and the marginalized. Dr. King spent his life reaching across the gaps that divided black from white, one religion from another.

Let me close with a quote from a recent song (introduced to me by my children) called I’m Not Afraid:

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holler if you feel that you've been down the same road.

If you don’t already know it, the song is by Marshall Mathers III, better known as Eminem. I don’t pretend that MLK Jr would remotely understand the anger, violence, or misogyny that routinely appear in Eminem’s lyrics. But I do know that this brilliant wordsmith has formed a bond with the community of black hip-hop and rap musicians that is unprecedented in the history of American music. Eminem, like him or not, could never have happened without the work of MLK Jr. We are all on the same road, and if we choose not to walk alone, we’ll follow Dr. King’s example and reach out for each others’ hands. The chief lesson that I’ve learned from my years in this parish, in this town, and now on the board of the Community Coalition, is that we’re all in this together. And the seed of that lesson lies in the life of MLK Jr.

As a final blessing, here’s the simplest possible prayer, one that my father said to us every night as children, as he marked our foreheads with the sign of the cross. Both my brother and I carried on this tradition as long as our children would allow us to.

God bless you, and keep you, and fill your heart with love.

What more can we ask? Amen.

© 2011 Ulysses Grant Dietz

The Ordination of Mary Davis to the Priesthood

2010-12-11T12:00:00.042-05:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

I arise today Through a mighty strength: God's power to guide me, God's might to uphold me, God's eyes to watch over me; God's ear to hear me, God's word to give me speech, God's hand to guard me, God's way to lie before me, God's shield to shelter me, God's host to secure me. Amen.

Since Mary didn't choose St. Patrick's Breastplate for her processional hymn, (and that's not a criticism) I thought it fitting to open with a Celtic prayer. Christianity has more flavours than Coldstone Ice Cream, and two of the flavours that are important to Mary are from the Celtic tradition and from the community of Taizé in France.

Ordinations are joyous events, one in which we are all participants and all the givers and receivers of blessings. In the lesson from Isaiah the seraphs flew around and called to each other "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of hosts. The whole earth is full of his glory." And on a day like today we who are all saints and angels in the heart of God call to each other, holy, holy holy is the lord of hosts, the whole earth is full of his glory." Joy is finding that God is the source of all that is good and sharing that with each other and praising God for that realization. We are here this day, joyful and praising God.

As the lesson continued and Isaiah heard the voice of God asking "Who will go for us and whom shall we send", he uttered those now famous words, "Here am I, send me." Do you think he had any idea what he was getting into? He rather got swept up in the moment and dove in, and even despite the brief fear that he wasn't worthy he said, "Here am I send me."

Since this is the season of Advent we'll read a lesson next week about another woman named Mary who was visited by an angel who had a question for her and asked if she would bear the Son of God and without hesitation she said, let it be as you have said. Do you think she had any idea what she was getting into?

In a little while after I finish the Bishop will have a few questions for you, Mary. Do you have any idea what you're getting into? I think not. None of us did, and speaking for myself, I wouldn't have it any other way.

The whole point of Advent expectation is being open to the leading of God and trusting in the love of God that calls us forward deeper into the mystery of grace and discovering how that grace is manifested in the world around us, in fact how the incarnation of God's love surrounds us.

I was delighted to see the image of a labyrinth on the bulletin this morning. For those unfamiliar with the labyrinth it is a diagram of a path representing our spiritual journey in life. Labyrinths are as ancient as most civilizations and have found a compatible home in Christianity. One of the earliest known Christian forms is in the Cathedral in Chartres in France. The tiles are worked into the floor into the labyrinth pattern similar to the one on the cover of the bulletin and pilgrims have been walking it for hundreds of years and continue to do so. We see more labyrinths around these days in recognition of their spiritual value. They are a symbol of the twists and turns in our lives, but unlike the mazes they resemble, these paths have no dead ends. It is a continuous line to the center representing union with God. The wisdom of the Labyrinth is that the pilgrim must then emerge from the center and return having been changed by the experience and returning to the world to proclaim to the others, holy, holy, holy is the lord of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of God's glory.

In the Cathedral of Chartres and in others places that have created labyrinths, it's not uncommon to see more than one person on the labyrinth walk. We enter at different times, go at different paces, pause in different spots, reach our goals at different times, gain our own insights and emerge to our own new callings. Each of us here is in a labyrinth of our lives, walking together at different paces and discovering different aspects of ourselves and God's grace. We each hear God's call differently as it is fitting to do so.

In the lesson to the Ephesians, Paul talks about the different the gifts of Christ -- "some would be apostle, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors, some teachers. We are joined and knitted together. Growing and building up in love." We are the body and Christ is the head. Each of us has different calls, different tasks for which God has asked "whom shall we send," into education, health, law, business, social services, families, and so many others areas. And each of us has in one way or another said, "here am I send me."

Mary, God has called you to the ordained ministry as a priest. You discerned the call and heard the question, Who will go for us and whom shall we send. And you answered, here am I send me. The symbol of the labyrinth is a powerful one and yet originally, not a Christian one. It's been found in pre-Christian civilizations in the far East, Native America, early Rome to name a few, and now in the Christian community. Nancy Roth, a priest, writer and retreat leader wrote a book a few years ago called Christian yoga. She was interviewed by a fundamentalist radio talk show host in the mid west who didn't believe yoga had anything to do with Christianity. She told him that when Christians do yoga, it's Christian yoga. As in yoga whose roots are non-Christian, and in labyrinths, whose roots are non-Christian, as in the world which can be very non-Christian we bring Christ. We witness the love of God in Christ crucified, Christ resurrected and the spirit of Christ still in the world. Christians see Christ in the world and it informs how we negotiate the labyrinths we walk and interact with the various children of God on our way.

As a priest, you will stand at the altar and bless the bread and wine, taking ordinary elements and they will be changed into the body and blood of Christ. You will pronounce absolution and blessings. You will anoint the sick, visit the lonely and those in need, and you will take your place in the councils of the church. And you will do all this in the name of Jesus.

In the Gospel Jesus looks at the people with compassion and tells his disciples that the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few. As a priest you will come into contact with many people who need to feel God's love and hear about Jesus. To be sure, you're not the only laborer in the fields, but you are the only one that has your particular gifts. God called you in order to bring those gifts to fulfillment and to reach those that only you can.

For those of you who don't know me I'm the rector of St. George's church in Maplewood where Mary did her field work for two years. One of the concepts I like seminarians to wrestle with is the understanding of the "Ontological change." It's a wonderful word and sounds so heady. It's a $50 word from seminary roughly referring to an inner change that goes to our very sense of identity and spiritual substance. It's hard to pin down it's meaning, but I think you can get a sense of it when I describe it in terms of Baptism or marriage. When a baby is baptized something spiritual happens and although the baby looks and sounds the same she is completely different. How many of you are married or have been joined in civil union? The sacramental moment changed something in you. You each entered the church one way and yet when you left, you were the same people and yet totally different. That's the ontological change. God's call to service changes us and how we respond to it changes us. We grow and become more of who God made us to be. For most of our lives we have a sense that we don't know where we're going, St. Paul in the letter to the Corinthians compared it to looking through a glass dimly. Part of the change is that we learn to trust God more, and though we don't always know where we're going, go freely, expectantly, open to the mysteries yet to be revealed.

The Rev. Bernie Poppe (in pulpit, top left) preaches at the
priesthood ordination of the Rev. Mary Davis (standing)
while the Rt. Rev. Mark Beckwith, Bishop of Newark looks on (right).

Mary, my sister, please stand. You are a kinetic person. You seem to be most comfortable in running shoes and no doubt you travelled a good distance of your labyrinth at a 5K pace, wrestling with ideas and challenges on the go. I suspect that even now you are restless, wound up like a clock about to strike. Turn around slowly. I want you to take a look at the people here. I want you to take some deep breaths, slow down and remember this moment. Your history is here, all the people who mean the most to you in the world are here. Even those who have died are here in the communion of Saints. Your present is here in that your ministry is among many of the good people here. Your future is here in the spirit of God that will lead you your whole life long. God made you kinetic to move among the people of God and spread His word and sacraments. You are a harvester, and there is much to harvest. I asked you earlier if you knew what you were getting into. Maybe a little, but not a lot. But like Isaiah and the other Mary and so many others who laboured in the fields and those that still do, we've gotten into the love and service of God. We don't know where that will take us or what will be asked of us as time goes on, but what we can always be certain of is that God is with us, gently guiding us along the turns, mmm, sometimes not so gently, but always in a way that inspires us to tell those whom we meet along the way, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of hosts. The whole earth is full of God's glory."

Let us pray using the words of Br. Roger from the Taizé community:

Jesus, joy of our hearts, you send your Holy Spirit upon us. He comes to reawaken trust within us. Through Him, we realize that the simple desire for God brings our soul back to life. (Br. Roger, Taizé)

Hope

2010-12-05T13:43:00.000-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Advent is that season of quiet waiting. A time of giving voice to long held hopes and desires. The lessons of the four weeks of Advent can be looked at as a unit, a series that has some movement.

Last week the lesson were vague in their sense of hope in the future, in broad terms, the message was simply "Wait." This week's lessons refine that message a bit and point to the hope in the arrival of an individual. Next week the hope is more specifically placed in God and the fourth week is the culmination of those hopes in the God made manifest in human form.

The lesson from Isaiah refers to a shoot coming from the stump of Jesse. It's a poetic way of stating a hope that the monarchy of Israel would be restored. Most everyone has heard of King David. From our earliest church school days we heard stories about David and Goliath - the young man who single-handedly slew the great giant and saved his country. It's a story as cherished now as it was when it was first spoken. Later David becomes King and establishes a long line of kings. David's father's name was Jesse. And although Jesse was a simple man of humble birth, the line of Kings in Israel is sometimes referred to by his name -- the House of Jesse.

One of the images of Kings is a mighty tree, but in the case of Israel several hundred years after David lived, the line was broken by a foreign invasion. The last King of Israel was captured, tortured and marched in chains through the town in front of his subjects. One of the legacies of that humiliation was the enduring hatred Israel developed for its enemies and the distrust of neighboring countries.

Yet even in disgrace, humiliation and occupation, Isaiah wrote of a hope that the line of Jesse would somehow be re-established. That a shoot would grow out of the stump of the mighty tree that had been cut down.

Medieval times echoed this kind of hope in the emergence of the legends of King Arthur. The people waited in hope for the one who would pull the sword from the stone. And even after that legend ran its cycle, hope of a king like Arthur lived on.

Part of the waiting for any king under painful circumstances is that the expectations get bigger and bigger. Isaiah rhapsodizes over the future king. He describes how God would endow him with wisdom and understanding, knowledge and faith. He would rule with great righteousness and courage. Peace would be brought at last and a just society would be established -- even the animals would get along peacefully.

This hope is echoed in the psalm from this morning also. "He shall defend the needy among the people, he shall rescue the poor and crush the oppressor. He shall live as long as the sun and moon endure...." The hope of the people for such a king stands in equal proportion to the despair they felt for the circumstances in which they lived.

It's beautiful poetry and in the case of the psalms, music was composed to accompany it and it became their souls' songs. But there was a built in problem with these hopes as they were expressed. As Isaiah wrote, " He shall judge...; he shall strike the Earth with the rod of his mouth; righteousness shall be his belt; the breath of his lips shall kill the wicked...." A dynamic was being created that the individual alone would do all these things. The expectation places all the work on the shoulders of the new king and the people would watch and be vindicated for their endured suffering. They would be taken care of.

Yesterday I accompanied several of the members of our healing study group to a quiet day in Manhattan led by Brother Andrew, a monk from the Order of the Holy Cross. I got to know Brother Andrew on my sabbatical while he was in the monastery in Grahamstown, South Africa. Sometime last year he left South Africa and returned to the mother house in West Park, New York to assume new duties as the novice master. He also gets invited to lead retreats and quiet days. When I discovered that he would be leading one so close, I asked the group that usually meets on Saturday mornings if they wanted to go. It was a wonderful day of addresses and meditations on the psalms used in this season of Advent. He discussed a lot about the nature of song and its importance to people in expressing their soul. We've heard the term "soul music" before but even that term gets glossed over and speaks of rhythms rather than the true depth of soul stirring it does.

When the soul is in its deepest pain or joy or fear or hope, music arises and when it's expressed it touches the soul of another with resonances that go far beyond the words. Instrumentalists feel this as much as vocalists and audiences respond through applause, because a response is called for. One of the unfortunate traditions of the Episcopal Church is not to applaud after a piece of music. The rationale for that is that music is prayer, not performance. But I think applause is a natural outpouring of the soul's response to having been stirred -- and perhaps shaken. In truth, silence can be an eloquent response allowing the music to drift heavenward on our behalf, but sometimes you just have to clap or shout amen.

Brother Andrew told of the role of the psalms in the life of the Israelites as an oppressed people and compared it to the traditional music of the black South Africans during Apartheid. It voiced the hope that change would come, that freedom would come, that God would come and heal the pain of cruel bondage. As he was talking I thought a similar case could be made for the music of the Negro spirituals sung during American slavery. Music kept the soul glowing the flames of hope.

The Israelites were in bondage and occupation for many generations -- Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks and Romans. As one empire rose and fell to the next, they watched their hopes of freedom rise and fall, but never lost the sense of promise that one day a King would arise and establish God's promised land again. And each generation the hope got bigger and bigger.

It's into this terrain that John the Baptist appeared. He shouted that the time was near and that the long waiting was about to end. He told them to prepare and get ready. He told them to repent, to turn and start to live with integrity and righteousness. John's words planted a new thought into an old idea. The king will bring leadership and the people will help. In order to help they needed to prepare themselves. It's the difference between watching the race and getting in it. Watching the work be done, or rolling up the sleeves and pitching in.

Jesus came to build the kingdom of God, but not by himself. He came to preach the Good News, but not by himself. He prepared his disciples to continue his work, not sit back and watch him do it. This Saturday, Mary Davis will be ordained a priest, and like so many before her, myself included, she's chosen a lesson from Isaiah which ends with the prophet hearing God's question, "Who will go for us, and whom shall we send." The prophet responds, "Here am I send me."

The Israelites were tired from their captivity and years of occupation. They wanted the shoot of Jesse to fix the world for them so they could rest. It's tempting to let our fatigue or frustration take us out of the race. But God's call is not to fall away, but prepare by taking care of ourselves and each other so that we can stay in it.

Advent is that season of waiting for the coming of God to in our lives each day. Establishing justice through our justice, and righteousness through our righteousness. Establishing love through our love. Not on our behalf, but through us. When we sing, we sing our soul's hopes and fears, frustrations and joys. We sing of God's grace in our lives that strengthens us and supports us. Each day is a new beginning and a new hope. Each day brings a new discovery of how God will use us to establish the world we so deeply need and desire. Amen.

Advent: A Time for Spiritual Preparation

2010-11-28T12:00:00.034-05:00

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The season of Advent begins today. The liturgical colors change to the royal blues and purples symbolic of anticipating the arrival of a King. The wreath is set up with the first of four candles burning anticipating the four weeks of preparation for the Feast of the Nativity, also called Christmas.

In the history of the Church, this season was a time of penance, similar to Lent. It was a time to prepare spiritually for the joy of the Christmas feast. We still have a sense of preparation for Christmas in a different, secular way. The shopping, parties, sending cards, home and shop decorations, all pointing to this special day. It's good to anticipate, it sharpens the joy of a special event. On the surface, Christmas has become about gift giving, but beneath that surface is the love that inspires the gift. The weeks leading up to Christmas are filled with the anticipation of the joy released on that day with the gifts for children, spouses, other family members, friends and co-workers. It's an Advent season in its own right.

While Christmas in today's world has taken the shape it has both in the secular and religious world, it also has a dual role for people of faith. It commemorates the birth of the Christ and looks forward to the coming of Christ again. On December 25 we observe an event that already happened. The season of Advent is to remind us that we are to be alert for an event that has not yet happened.

The lessons we read this morning are filled with this kind of anticipation. Anticipation of how God will work in the unknown future. The lesson from Israel anticipates a great day when there will be no more war and the swords will be beat into plows. Being in a time of war we can well imagine that hope. When it will no longer be necessary to arm ourselves against brothers and sisters we call enemies. When our technology will be used to create food and shelter and all necessities for the people of the world. What a great day that will be. Like Isaiah, we are a people of Advent waiting for God's kingdom in that way.

But there are also more immediate ways of waiting. The Gospel gives a nice lesson about the need for preparation. I've read this story for years and like so many other times, each reading yields a different way of looking at it. Jesus told his followers that no one knows when and how God will work in the future. He reminds them of the story of Noah and how people in his day were laughing and eating and drinking and living as though they had not a care in the world. They had no idea that the flood was about to happen and were caught unaware and carried off by it. Noah and his family alone were saved because they had listened to God and made an Ark. When the flood came, they were carried to safety -- them and the animals they needed to restock the world.

Once in a while the Discovery Channel or the History Channel will do an episode on finding the Ark. Supposedly it struck land in the Turkish mountains. They give tantalizing circumstantial evidence to substantiate the claim, but positive proof is just beyond reach. There is a segment of the Christian Church that desperately wants to find such proof as though that will validate to a scoffing world that all the claims of the Bible are literally true.

I don't think they'll find it, if you ask me. And I'm not on the side of those who believe the literal truth of Noah's Ark. As I tell the confirmation class, stories don't need to be true to find the truth in them. Searching for the Ark misses the point of the story. It's about being prepared for disaster.

God spoke to Noah and Noah listened. He built what he needed to survive the flood. The other people didn't. That doesn't mean that God didn't tell them, it means that they didn't listen. In the language of the Old Testament, God causes everything good and bad. It's a reward and punishment view of the world, nothing happens by chance. Our world view is different, and that world view was shaped by the events of the New Testament. Jesus told us of God's love for the world and God's care for the world.

God doesn't cause the evil in the world, but transcends it, overcomes it, moves beyond it and helps us to do the same. Disaster hits everyone at one time or another. The flood becomes an illustration of the overwhelming sense of calamity that may occur in our lives. People who have suffered the death of a parent or child, spouse or partner can relate to the power of a flood sweeping them away. Loss of jobs or security such as those lost in this long recession has been devastating to many. The earthquakes in Haiti, the hurricanes in the south and other natural disasters point to the overwhelming power of disaster.

Without trying to sound too apocalyptic, we are all in the path of some unknown disaster. We will all experience, if we haven't already, something devastating. The question comes up, how have we prepared for it? What ark have we built to protect us from the flood?

Last week we had a lovely baptism of a sweet baby girl. I reminded those here that the part of the church where the pews are is called the nave, which is from the Latin meaning "ship." A look at the ceiling is to remind us of the underside of th hull of a ship. The symbol here is that our faith is the ark upon which we are carried to safety when trials or disaster strikes.

We carry insurance for our homes, cars and health, not in a way that makes us afraid to go outside, but in a way that makes us feel reasonably prepared if something happens to anyone of those things. But none of those forms of insurance works for the spirit of a person trying to pick up the pieces of a life that has been disastrously affected. That kind of preparation comes in prayer and faith.

Rose Kennedy was asked what she did each time she received the tragic news that one of her sons had been killed. Her response was that the first thing she did was to go to church. Before she could deal with the shock and grief, she had to pray. Her Ark was built very strong, and she made it through. People who survive great tragedy and horrible living situations often credit prayer with their ability to survive. Scientific tests are conducted these days observing the increase in healing ability among those who profess a faith versus those who claim to have no faith.

Advent as a season of preparation calls us to consider the importance of being spiritually prepared to be in the world, putting on the "armor of light" to use Paul's phrase. Doing so means that we not living in fear that something might happen, but living in faith that when it does, we can handle it and with God's help transcend it, and like Noah, bring with us that which we need to rebuild our world.

Last week the clergy of this district got together for a meeting with Canon Greg Jacobs who is Bishop Beckwith's assistant. His official title is "Canon to the Ordinary." We all get together from time to time to check in with each other, find out what's going on in our churches and our lives and support each other in various ways. We often do a Bible study using the lessons for the upcoming Sunday and it actually helps us prepare for our sermons.

When we read this Gospel we shared different impressions. When it was my turn I was overcome by a devilish smile -- the kind that gave away that I'd thought of something that I found very funny but wasn't sure my colleagues would. Never the less I ventured my impression of the story Jesus told with the people eating and drinking unaware of the flood. God help me, it reminded me of the Three Little Pigs. Building the house of straw and twigs wasn't enough. The wolf blew them both down. But the house of bricks was strong enough. The people eating and drinking that Jesus talked about had built their houses of straw and twigs, but Noah, to complete the musing, had the house of bricks. They teased me for my thoughts but kept coming back to the image I used. Our children's stories are ingrained in us in the ways that the Bible stories were ingrained in generations of people of faith. They speak of truths that reach deep into our understanding and teach us how to prepare for the world in which we live that can sometimes be dangerous and appear cruel.

Advent is about preparing for the feast of Christmas, but in a deeper sense is about being prepared with God's help to be in the world. To live in expectation that no matter what, God will be there for us to see us through the floods of overwhelming circumstance in our lives. As Jesus said, we don't know when these things will happen -- the day or the hour -- but they will come like a thief in the night. When they do, we have the power of God to see us through. And just as the circumstances of our lives come at unexpected times, the strength of God comes at equally unexpected times to save us. Amen.

The Baptism of Arden

2010-11-21T12:00:00.002-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

It's a pleasure to welcome the immediate and extended families of Arden Murphy and their friends to St. George's this morning. It's a special day for several reasons. First, as the psalmist has written, this is the day the Lord has made, therefore let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Second, as the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the St. George's community celebrates the holiday today with a meal in the parish hall following the service. We're a little more relaxed than we will be as the week progresses and before we all go our separate ways it's nice to be together to give thanks.

Third, on the Liturgical calendar this is the last Sunday before Advent, and it has a special name. It's called Christ the King Sunday. The lessons for the day and the music choices focus on the theme of Jesus as Sovereign. More on that later.

Last, but in no way least, we are baptizing a little baby today named Arden Murphy. She was born in August and her parents Jessica and Chris have been coming to St. George's for a couple years, usually at 8 a.m. I believe the realities of nap time have begun to alter your lives a bit and we're seeing you at 10:30 more often. Little bundles create big changes. So here we are, and welcome to one and all.

I must admit that I automatically feel a bit apologetic to those of you who are new or visiting St. George's and that a word of explanation is needed for the choice of readings today. As I said earlier, since it is Christ the King Sunday the lessons are geared to that theme. Normally for baptisms different readings are assigned and some that are much less foreboding and grim. Usually they're happier.

For example, I would not normally have chosen Jeremiah to shout "woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!" Nor would I have chosen the crucifixion for a happy baby day. But, like so much of life, we take what we're given and see how we can make it work.

Baptism, its symbols and vows bring a person into the church community. Not only the parish of St. George's, but the worldwide community of believers. But Christians are a motley crew with a wide range of beliefs and not always a gracious tolerance for the differences. Never the less, now matter what our creeds or beliefs are, we are united by the person of Jesus. That one life connects us all. We believe that God acted in the world in a unique way, and touched the lives of everyone on the planet in an act of love so profound that it radiates through the centuries and draws people to its light.

Love is that light. The very first act of creation noted in Genesis is when God made the light and said it was good. It's astounding that God so loved the world that he gave his only son, to quote John, that all who believe will have eternal life. Beliefs change and grow over time. They differ from others. Even those who claim to be the most traditional hold onto beliefs that have changed over time. The constant however, is that God loves the world. And God loves Arden. Those two statements are basically what Baptism is about. It's our way of telling her that, and reminding ourselves of the same truth as it applies to us.

In a way baptizing a baby on the feast of Christ the King may be very appropriate. Because without making that simple statement, there would be nothing to baptize her into.

One of the seeming contradictions of Jesus' life is the death of the King in the manner of a criminal. Yet, it demonstrates that sovereignty is not a measure of material or military strength. It's about union with God which transcends all the trappings of this life and goes to the core of our spiritual being. There is much more to us than the body, what we wear and what we eat or how we act and react in the world. At our deepest core is love and how we nurture it and reflect it in the world. That is the spark of God in us.

The crucifixion is a contradiction of what one expects of a King, but it's not a contradiction in the language of love. Parents do what they need to do to protect their children and God does what God needs to do to protect us, even if that means going to the deepest canyons of human fear and cruelty to say I still love you even here.

Jesus between the two thieves becomes a microcosm of the world. There he is between the ones who believe and the ones who don't. Scripture tells us the two on either side of Jesus were thieves. It doesn't say what they stole, but it must have been pretty bad to end up on a cross. All the rest of us may not be thieves of that ilk, but I dare say we all have one or two things that we regret and demonstrate that we are not without sin, to quote a phrase. None of us are going to be throwing any stones. Between each other, people in the world and even within ourselves there is always a tug of war between these two criminals - those who scoff at the power of love and those who depends on it and want to be remembered by it. In our deepest selves this tension exists at one time or another. In the world of contradictions in which we live this tension exists all the time. In business, at school, or in our families, these tensions exist. The good news is that God is there and despite the fallibility of people and even the intention to kill that which is good and loving, the power of God, the power of love cannot be killed and will always rise. That's why it's sovereign. And that's what we tell Arden. It'll be more convincing to her if we believe it. And we're more likely to believe it if we stay close to the source of it -- in prayer and meditation, in song and fellowship. If we practice reflecting God's love in the world through kindness and understanding, justice and generosity. Sometimes it's easier than others, and we may drift, but whenever we get back into the swing of it, we feel better.

The Murphy's are a sailing family. I had prepared a series of sailing metaphors but decided to spare you, metaphors of safe harbors in stormy seas, and stories of Jesus' calming the waves, that sort of thing. But I do want you to look up at the ceiling of this church. The section in which you are seated is called the "nave". It's from the Latin for "ship". If you use your imagination you can see the inside hull of the ship. There are a lot of stories in scriptures about boats and the sea since that was part of their everyday life. I realized I didn't need to come up with sailing metaphors since the most important one is the one we are now gathered in. It is a safe place for Arden to meet Jesus and for all of us to voyage together. We fuss from time to time, but on the whole we play well together. We pray, sing and eat together, and we try our best to reflect the love of God together. So for these things we give thanks, we praise Christ the King, we welcome Arden on board and look out on this wonderful day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Amen.

Vision and Stewardship

2010-11-14T12:00:00.002-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Book of Proverbs writes, that "without a vision the people perish." It’s a phrase that is quoted a lot in religious circles because it points urgently to the need we have to hope in the future. A vision becomes a goal that is achievable, if not in specifics, then in concept. Institutions will write vision statements based on the direction they hope to go and the spirit in which they want to get there. A mission statement has specific goals, but a vision statement is wider, it takes in dreams and hopes for the future. It encapsulates what the person or institution is trying to build.

Without a vision of the future and the hopeful possibilities it holds, we just plod along in a survival mode on a treadmill with no particular motivation. We become dry and bitter.

Isaiah’s passage contains something akin to a vision statement for the people of Israel who were held in captivity in a foreign land. It holds a vision for how their lives should and will be in the future when they are released from that captivity. In their past, they worked fields and never knew for sure if some marauders would attack at harvest time and leave them without the fruit of their labor. They might be attacked in their towns and driven out, and the attackers take over the homes that they themselves had built. In Isaiah’s vision, none of that would happen. They would be safe and secure in their homeland and live to ripe old ages. More than that, even the animals would live in peace. The wolf and the lamb, the lion and the ox - all living peacefully. The only one who doesn’t share in the bounty of Isaiah’s vision is the serpent. The serpent’s food shall be dust. They never really forgave the serpents for the whole Adam and Eve thing. Not everyone gets to share the vision!

The vision in the Gospel of Luke is not as rosy. It’s triumphal in an important way, but it isn’t without suffering and anxiety. The early Christians faced hard times. When the Gospel of Luke was written approximately 40 years after the events it describes about Jesus, Christians were persecuted by the Romans and the Jewish leadership. Christians didn’t acknowledge the divinity of the Roman Emperor, or the traditional law of the Jews, and they suffered the rejection and persecution of each. The Gospel of Luke wrote the words of Jesus in the context of a church in distress, much like Isaiah wrote to people in the midst of distress. Whereas Isaiah’s words were poetic and blissful, Luke’s were ominous, because it contained their realities. Family members did turn against each other and turn their Christian members in. If one member of a family was a Christian, the whole family could be punished. Rather than face that, family members publicly turned against each other and remained safe that way. The temple was torn down in 67 AD, so the words of Jesus describing a time when even that would happen was seen as the fulfillment of a prophecy, and the hope of another prophecy that the second coming of Jesus was only a short time away. The early Christians held to the hope that Jesus would appear in their lifetime and bring the faithful to heaven. Both visions kept the people they served hopeful and connected to their faith.

Visions can sometimes backfire, however. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians to get after them for being lazy. Paul had done such a good job of convincing them that the second coming of Jesus was so immanent that some took it as a reason to stop working and wait. Why bother getting up for a job you don’t like if Jesus is right around the corner? Ah, don’t worry, be happy. Paul told them to get back to work and stop being a drain on the folks who did work.

Planning for the future and looking ahead with a vision is easy in one sense and difficult in another. It’s easy to dream up a utopian world and hope for a vague someday. It’s quite another thing to set realistic goals that stretch us but not so far that we despair that the dreams will ever happen.

The workers for abolition, or women’s suffrage, civil rights, and now marriage equality had and have a vision for a better world that at times seemed so far away and yet so close to possibility. In each struggle there were victories and set backs. There was optimism and frustration, the motivation to move ahead and the temptation to give up. The vision of each group was aided by the belief that God was at work in the journey toward justice and equality. The inherent value of each person as a child of God give us all a promise that we matter and that we are just as good as the next person and that the rights of one need to be available to all. If we believe that we are equal in the eyes of God, then we need to fight to be equal in the eyes of the law. In order to achieve these visions, sitting idly by isn’t going to help. Great strides have been made and further strides need to happen.

We have a vision here at St. George’s too. We envision a world in which all people are welcome in the eyes of God and each other; that the gifts and talents of each person are valued and celebrated; that we discern God’s call to us individually and as a community and find the faith and courage to live into it. We have a legacy of the work done so ably by those in past generations who have preceded us in this building. We have done a lot of work in this generation and we are making it possible for those who come after us to meet the challenges of their day. Our stewardship of the buildings and resources of St. George’s speak of our faith and how we believe God is calling us to use them. We reach out and we reach in. We reach out to the local and global community with our physical labor and financial contributions. We respond to global and national crisis. We offer food and shelter. We visit the sick and those in prison. We provide for children and families in need. We witness for justice and equality.

Occasionally at Diocesan and other church functions I’ll receive compliments about St. George’s for the work we do here. At first I’m confused because it’s become so second nature here that I assume all churches do what we, and am often surprised to learn that they don’t. We roll up our sleeves and do a lot of work and raise a lot of money and we still enjoy each other’s company doing it. Apparently this is not the case everywhere.

Yet, as wonderful as that is, we cannot be like the Thessalonians and sit on our past successes. There is still a lot to do. We still have a vision of what can be done for families, and children in particular. Providing an environment of faith takes intention and commitment. It doesn’t happen overnight or without work. Our work in the area of stewardship is a witness to that. In each of the stories told by parishioners this year and in years past, the discovery of God in this place emerged and the desire to be actively engaged as a result has gotten expressed in as many ways as there were stories.

One of the prayers in the Baptismal Covenant is that the person baptized has an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love God, and the gift of joy and wonder in all God’s works. Stretch in the stewardship of your time, talent and treasure. Engage in the vision of this community in our work and witness to God’s love and live into the baptism of being a disciple of Christ.

Pledges are a personal thing. The stewardship committee and the different levels of church organization often tip toe around the topic hoping not to turn people off or offend. We keep the pledges confidential and it’s important to give that assurance. We will teach about proportionate giving and the tithe. Proportionate giving is taking your salaries or financial resources and deciding on a percentage to pledge to the church. The tithe simply refers to the proportion that is ten percent. Whether before or after taxes is not a conversation we usually get into, except to say that it is up to the individual.

To a newcomer this may seem like a lot, and in a way of speaking it is. But when we look at the growth we’ve received in our lives, it’s generally been after some huge event or huge intentional action. Giving to God’s work in the world is such an intentional action. Your giving may be divided between this church and other places where you feel God’s work is being done. I’ve heard it put that "my money goes where I can’t."

We have a vision for the church that includes an increase in program, involvement of our members and reaching out to people who really want and need to find a spiritual home in which they feel welcomed, challenged and safe. We need to feel the presence of God in our prayer, music and fellowship. That comes from intentional giving, it doesn’t just happen. But we also have a vision for each individual among us. We are at our best when we give outside ourselves. Confidence and generosity are the characteristics of a spiritually healthy person. Fear of scarcity, withdrawing and isolating are signs of trouble. This is a sensitive and touchy area, but one that needs to be looked at in a safe way. We want to grow and be strong physically, spiritually and mentally. It takes intention and commitment. Growth doesn’t happen by chance. Stewardship time is one occasion in which we discuss our need for the contribution of our members to do the ministry that we do here, to keep it going and to help it grow. But it’s also an invitation for each of us to grow individually as well. Our ancestors in the faith overcame amazing odds to spread the Gospel of God’s love and became transformed in the process. We have daunting challenges in our day as well and with their example and the grace of God at our backs, we’ll meet ours as well. Amen.

All Saints

2010-11-07T12:00:00.020-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

This morning we observe one of the main feasts of the Church Year, All Saints Day. The actual day was November 1, which was last Monday. In the days when Christianity was new, there was a practice of placing Christian holidays on or close to Pagan holidays in the hope that they would come to eclipse them - which they did. For example Christmas was placed on the Roman feast of Saturnalia - a day in honor of Saturn, the Roman god of the harvest. It was a time of merriment in which masters and slaves reversed roles for the 3-5 days of its duration. (It's an interesting day to celebrate the Christian God who became human.) Needless to say the strategy worked and while people know Christmas, we have long forgotten Saturnalia.

A case can be made for a similar happening with All Saints Day and the Celtic feast of Samhain. That pre-Christian feast celebrated the harvest and observed the thin line between the living and the dead. When the crops were harvested and the plants which bore them left to die, the cycle of life was celebrated and a feast enjoyed. Gourds were carved to ward off evil spirits and costumes fashioned to mock them. When the Christian Church arrived on the British Isles this feast with its costumes came to celebrate the saints of the Christian year and costumes that mocked death and celebrated Jesus' triumph over death and the victory over demons and the powers of darkness.

However, I think a reverse has happened in the case of All Saints Day. The secular fascination with Hallowe'en has eclipsed the day it was supposed to celebrate. All Hallow's Eve, of the Eve of All Saints has taken on a life of its own, and the holiday it is supposed to herald has been largely forgotten.

Ghosts and Ghouls and all types of monsters, princesses and hobos, boxes of pop corn and cell phone costumes, super heroes and the like, have supplanted the men and women known as saints in the calendar of Christian memory. So it's our task to remember the main feast day of All Saints. We are all saints and over time have come to recognize specific people as examples "of godly living" as the collect says it. Part of what we recognize as "saintly" is the courage of faith convictions to do extraordinary things for the good of others. They carry the message of God's love to different configurations of people over the centuries that the church has existed. They have seen Christ in all persons and served them.

The Episcopal Church inherited the list of saints from the Roman Church, though our relationship to them is slightly different. We honor them for the lives they led and we name our churches after some of them - even the ones that, alas, like Blessed George, are not necessarily historically factual. While we may doubt the historicity of a medieval soldier named George slaying a dragon, we hold to the spiritual truth of men and women who battle amazing odds successfully in living out their faith and accomplishing true miracles in those lives. And some of then are most definitely named George.

Whereas our Roman friends still require stringent background checks and miracles before they dub the name "Saint" on an individual, the Episcopal Church has created a book of saints that includes the actual, the hopefully actual, and even the doubtfully actual saints of old with contemporary saints whose lives model faith and fortitude in larger than life ways.

One such saint is Martin Luther King. Dr. King is responsible for many miracles and is beyond doubt an example of virtuous and godly living.

Some of the youth from this parish gave up a day off from school this past Thursday to go to the New Jersey Food Bank. We got a tour of that very impressive facility which feeds and clothes thousands of people each year. It began in 1975 when a woman named Kathleen DiChiara collected dented cans from supermarkets and gave them out to people in need in the Newark area from the back of her car. Today the project is huge and gathers food from many venues including churches like ours who have food bins and bring them to be distributed.

There is a banner at the Food Bank over the hallway leading into the main storage facility with a quote from Dr. King. It reads: Life's most persistent and urgent question is, What are you doing for others?"

Service is the sign of hope in our world that connects what we believe and what we do about it. Giving service in any fashion to those in need is ministry and proclaiming through action that God loves all people, and that they are blessed. Not blessed in that their circumstances are dire, but blessed in that they are not forgotten by God and they are loved.

The Gospel lesson connected with All Saints Day is the Beatitudes. The list of those who are blessed is among the most beautiful passages in all of the scriptures and they are words of hope for those who seem to be forgotten by the world.

Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who are hungry now, blessed are those who weep, blessed are you when people hate you on account of the Son of Man... We sometimes mistake the word "blessed" with the world "lucky". But that's not what it means at all. It means "consecrated, sacred, holy." Set aside for a particular purpose. And more often that not the purpose is to manifest the love of God, through their actions or in calling forth an action in others.

The service that we do for those in any need, if it comes from our faith conviction that God is reflected in all people and our work honors that, then we are living into our faith. Through our prayers, through our actions, through our contributions, through the welcome we extend to the visitor.

Saints dedicated their lives to service in God's name. They still do. It's so very important that we create service venues for our youth and engage in it ourselves. It takes us out of ourselves in a good way. I guarantee that if you're sad or angry about something, the antidote is service to another person, no matter how seemingly small.

We continue our stewardship campaign today and hope to gather pledges next week for the work and ministry here at St. George's. We are a vital and vibrant presence in Maplewood, in the Diocese of Newark and in the country and beyond. Our service and faith commitment has reached out to people in the Indian Ocean region affected by the 2004 Tsunami, the people in Haiti, South Africa, Mississippi, to name a few. Our voice has been heard in Trenton and Washington. People who have been hurt by religious institutions, families of origin or current families or battered by life's circumstances have found healing here in prayer, music, study and food. Later this morning we'll bless a tricycle given in the memory of Gabriel Batiste who would have been 5 years old last week. When death or loss hits us, we process the healing through giving in a variety of ways. The joy this tricycle will give a child at the Turning Point Community Services Family Shelter, helps his parents Miguel and Suzette and grandmother Yolanda in their healing over his untimely death.

We are saints in a long tradition or those committed to God through Jesus who are inspired to reach beyond ourselves, and in the process become ourselves in a way that is deeper and more fulfilling than we can imagine. By George, there are dragons out there, and by God we'll take them on. Amen.

Fight the good fight, finish the race, keep the faith

2010-10-24T12:00:00.023-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the second letter of Timothy, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." Vocabulary and style differences prevent scholars from totally agreeing that the letters to Timothy are really from Paul. It was a common practice for students to write in their teacher's name or even the name of the person who inspired them. So it's possible that although the author of this Epistle claims to be Paul in the opening verses, that it is in fact someone inspired by Paul who wrote in his name.

Despite that, the importance of the Epistle is not in question. It is a faithful rendering of the issues faced by the early church and some of the practical advice and solutions offered. In the passage we read this morning, the author is writing from the point of view of someone at the end of their life or ministry. The Epistle is filled with tender words of encouragement and confidence in young man named Timothy. "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith" are words that affirm the authors life's work and by implication encourage Timothy to do the same.

This morning we Baptize two babies. In a short time we'll renew our own Baptismal vows and pledge our support of Elijah and Henry in their new lives in Christ. We're telling them that living a Christian life is sometimes "a fight", but one worth taking on. We promise to proclaim a Gospel of God's love in a world torn by war and battered by hate. It's not always popular Gospel, even among those who say they proclaim it. I spoke recently with a woman who attempted to apply her Christian commitment to how she managed her staff in a major corporation. Without using overtly religious language, she encouraged them to care for each other and help each other in their projects. It wasn't very successful, she said. Her suggestions were considered signs of weakness and out of place in a competitive, often combative environment. Where manners are considered signs of weakness, it's no wonder there are so few of them demonstrated.

But we're telling these babies to try. To persevere in the faith and the belief that Jesus' teaching of loving God and our neighbor is crucial to a healthy spiritual life. Against the odds, it's a life worth living. We renew our Baptismal vows several times each year, because we recognize liturgically that it's not easy and we need to be reminded often.

The Gospel lesson gives the illustration of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. It's not a story about righteousness, it's a story against being judgmental. To his credit the Pharisee did all the right things. He fasted and tithed - just like he was supposed to. Pharisees were teachers and he lived what he taught apparently. (One of my colleagues lamented that it's a pity how during Stewardship season the Tither appears as the bad guy in the story!) Never the less, what's called into question by the story is the motivation of the Pharisee for his scrupulous observance of the law. Was he following spiritual laws to enrich his spirit or just show off to others? Was his public image the important thing to him? It certainly seems that way. I think it's fine to be grateful for the strength to follow spiritual disciplines, such as fasting or tithing. Where he crosses the line is when he compares himself to others in a way that makes him superior, and by implication, more worthy of God's love and attention.

The Tax Collector may or may not have heard the boasting of the Pharisee. He didn't need to compare himself to anyone. He was aware of his short comings and yet still felt connected to God enough to ask for mercy. He didn't need to be better than anyone else, he just needed to do better himself.

That's part of the lesson we want to teach these babies. Don't compare yourselves to others as though that makes you better or worse, but seek to improve yourself based on your desire to be better young people in a world that really needs good people. Be grateful for the progress you make and seek to improve when you make a mistake. God's love is constant, no matter what. I know for my self, I've been good and I've been bad. Sometimes bad is more fun, but ultimately good is better! I was taking to a friend not long ago sharing stories of lesson we learned the hard way and we agreed that life's lessons are often learned through mistakes, and the biggest lessons are from mistakes that are expensive or embarrassing.

In last week's confirmation class the youth mentioned an interest in preaching. It was spurred by us coming in here to sing and pray at the start of the class. Sitting up here has an irresistible draw for youth to the pulpit. They love to get in here and speak into the microphone. So we talked about the scripture lesson for today and how they might preach on it. We had some extemporaneous examples, and some frank conversation on the shortcomings of my preaching. I was disappointed to discover how boring I am. I asked if I had ever caught their interest, by chance perhaps?

Stories came in first as the attention getters. Stories of my sabbatical got honorary mention, as did, surprisingly, a story from several years ago. These kids are listening, and they are remembering, even through the boring sermons. What else might make the sermons more interesting? Relating them to contemporary issues and topics, like iPods. Now, I had never thought of the spiritual efficacy of the iPod, but I'm open to learning and no sooner had we started the discussion of the iPod than the Gospel lesson was demonstrated. I thought I was going to impress them by saying I had an iPod. My momentary victory was dashed when it was reveled that my iPod was out of date. You see, I don't have the iPod Touch. I have the iPod classic. I can't mimic the attitude that accompanied the line, "You have the iPod Classic?" I felt like the Tax Collector, unable to raise my eyes in the company of my students. My shame was compounded by the Pharisaic attitude of the youth who brought out her iPod Touch and I imagined her saying "God, I thank you that I am not like other people who only have the iPod Classic, or God forbid, the Nano; or even like this priest who doesn't even know how to use it."

Teens can convey a lot by the unfiltered look of disbelief and the roll of the eyes. I was able to salvage a moment of teaching opportunity by assuring them that God loves me despite my technological shortcomings, and not only me, but all people who don't have the iPod Touch, the iPad or any of the other technological gods on the shelf. The lesson was great fun and it was apparent that we all have a bit of the Pharisee in us, as well as the Tax Collector. What we don't have, is the right to judge others based on who or what they are, or what they do or do not have. We all share similarly in the greatest gift that anyone can have, to be a child of God.

Hopefully we can bring that lesson to these two babies being baptized as well as remind ourselves of that which is simple to understand and often difficult to live out. Tell them in whatever way you can or that they can relate to -- they are definitely listening.

"Fight the good fight, finish the race, keep the faith." Amen.

Wrestling with God

2010-10-17T12:00:00.022-04:00

By The Rev. Bernward W. Poppe, Rector

The lessons this morning focus on the power of determination and persistence. In the first lesson Jacob wrestles with a character whose identity is never quite revealed, but certainly celestial. There has always been a question in the commentaries about whether that being is an angel or actually God. One must think that if it were God, that Jacob would have lost the fight, but then again, it is a story after all.

The reason Jacob was there in the first place is the larger part of the story that's not included in our lesson. Jacob was caught between a rock and a hard place.

His two wives were sisters. He loved the younger sister, Rachel, and worked for seven years to win her hand from her father Laban. Laban tricked Jacob on the wedding day, substituted the older sister Leah hidden under a veil and made Jacob work an additional seven years for Rachel. In return when Jacob got the opportunity, he managed to cheat Laban out of a large portion of his flocks and before Laban figured out the trick, Jacob took his then sizeable family and entourage and fled the region. Laban, waking up and finding everyone gone, figured out he'd been cheated and the chase was on.

Jacob got a head start and it looks like he's going to get away and cross a border that would protect him, but he looked into the distance and standing between him, his family and their freedom was the large army of Jacob's brother Esau. Normally, that would have been good news, except that the reason Jacob was in Laban's country in the first place was that he cheated his brother out of his inheritance. With Laban at his back and Esau in front, Jacob sat at the stream dividing the territories between a rock and a hard place.

It was here that the celestial being shows up and they wrestle. Why Jacob needed to pick yet another fight is any one's guess -- especially with an angel. But in the language of story it makes perfect sense. Perhaps the Being was his conscience that he was wrestling with, having to face two adversaries, both of whom he'd cheated. His chickens were coming home to roost, as it were, and he had a lot to lose.

His decision was to face his brother, come what may. Still being cagey, he divided his family and entourage in half and went with the first half to meet his brother to see how things went. He discovered that his brother had in fact forgiven him and all went well. Jacob was able to establish a new homeland for his family. Happy ending to that chapter.

What's curious is the wrestling. Jacob stayed at it til morning. In a modern version, you could imagine him tossing and turning all night long before making a decision of huge importance. In the language of story it's a heavenly being that confronts him. His victory is in making a decision of integrity. Facing the wrongdoing he had done to his brother, who, unlike Laban, had never done any harm to Jacob and did not deserve being cheated. Jacob's victory earned him two things. The first is a blessing which brought with it a new name, Israel. He is the same Israel for whom the country is named to this very day, and you can imagine why this story is a beloved one for the people of that country. Perhaps it was this blessing that had somehow mollified Esau. The other thing Jacob got for his victory was his hip out of joint and a limp that lasted the rest of his life.

There was a play on Broadway a long time ago called, "Your arms are too short to box with God." And while that may be true, if you wrestle with God, you might win, but you will pay a price. There are a lot of stories of Jacob's adventures as a young man getting into trouble and as a wise older man. Something shifted in this encounter and Jacob grew up. He faced himself and God in a profound way and it changed him forever. In the language of story, it was a limp. In the language of faith, it was a conversion.

The Gospel story echoes the theme of persistence with the judge and the woman who pestered him seeking justice. He had no fear of God or respect for anyone -- a perfect candidate for a judge. Notice that he grants her justice because of her persistence, which he should have done anyway. But perhaps it was quicker because of her persistence. And Jesus taught them that God also will grant justice. The widow believed that her actions would wear the judge down and it did. I'm not sure we're supposed to see ourselves wearing God down -- or wrestling as Jacob did -- but perhaps that might not be a bad image.

Jesus often taught his disciples to pray and encouraged them to pray a lot. Prayer works in a way that we don' t understand, nor does it seem possible for us to do so. But it works whether we understand it or not. The trick is that it may not always work out the way we wanted or expect, but being open to the Spirit allows our prayer to take the shape it needs to. And that's often where the limp comes in.

I have a nephew who developed Lyme's Disease when he was in high school. It was misdiagnosed for a long time. There is a window of opportunity for which the disease can be easily treated, but having missed that window, he faced three years of intense fighting to where at one point it looked as though he might die. My sister doggedly chased every lead, fought the insurance companies which denied coverage for the treatments they needed, and yet never gave up. They finally found a proper treatment and several years later Nicholas is fully recovered, though the fear remains that the disease may appear again.

I asked him if he regrets missing the second two years of high school and all the traditional high school activities. It also delayed and impacted his college entrance. He said he did regret it to a degree, but what he's learned about himself and life more than makes up for it. There's a maturity in him that he credits the struggle of fighting his disease. The limp is what he missed, the blessing is what he gained. No one wants to go through that again, but having done so, there is gratitude for the lessons learned and the blessings received.

As a parish family we've observed some milestones recently. The death of our long time member Hubert Pierson who as a six year old sang in the St. George's children's choir -- and was such an important part of the leadership and vitality of the church, he died at age 87. He was bed ridden for many months prior to his death and as I visited him, heard stories about his life, the best of which I cannot tell from here. But his life was full of joys and struggles in various issues, some of which were blessings and some left a limp that went well beyond his hip replacements. Shortly during the prayers of the people, we'll have the pleasure of witnessing the renewal of wedding vows for Nina Nicholson and Kirk Petersen. It's their tenth anniversary and a wonderful story of how they found love after struggles in their own lives. Nina often boasts that she can find anything on the internet, including a husband.

The bottom line is that we all wrestle the angel at some point in whatever form that might take. Conscience, fear, frustration, confusion of how to deal with conflict, and we need to make difficult decisions and choices. Between the stories of Jacob and the widow, the wisdom of our scriptures is to pray, wrestle a little bit, but ultimately trust in God and choose authenticity and integrity in making those decisions.

The gamble is the limp, and there generally will be one. But the blessings will outweigh any limp. You may not get your name changed or a country named after you, but you will face your issues and find your blessings. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest."

2010-10-03T12:00:00.005-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the Gospel of Matthew we heard these words: Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

Today we observe the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi. Francis died on October 3, 1226 -- some 784 years ago. He is remembered principally for his gentleness, poverty, and devotion to all of God's creation. There are wonderful stories of him seeking alms for people even poorer than himself, restoring dilapidated churches, preaching to anyone who would listen, and even preaching to birds and animals. His love of animals inspired churches to bless animals on his feast day. It's a tradition we gladly continue, and each year marvel at the good behavior of so diverse a congregation of all creatures great and small. Perhaps they've heard of Francis too and pay homage to his memory as well!

One of the remarkable things about Francis is that he came from a wealthy family and ended up renouncing his place in that family and his inheritance so that he could embrace poverty and the spiritual riches he found in it. It was a big change from a young man who was known to enjoy himself lavishly and party with the all the other young nobles in grand style. Between war, personal illness and contact with the poor and lepers, a change overcame him, a conversion to a different way of life and a reordering of his values and priorities.

He started an order of monks equally devoted to prayer, poverty and good works. There were many other monastic orders in the 13th century, but they had become wealthy and Francis believed corrupted by that wealth. Poverty for him was a way of keeping the focus on God and not protecting their assets.

To say the least, he was controversial for the point of view of his family and the larger church who didn't appreciate his criticism or the popular support he received from common folk who wondered if the wealth had indeed corrupted the church. Though we know the date of his death, the date of his birth is believed to be approximately 1181, making him about 45 year old at the time of his death.

St. Francis let go or the very things that most people spend their lives trying to attain -- materially and in security. In letting go, he put his trust in God fully. I believe he is honored for that courage and faith. Most of us cannot do what he did. But perhaps there is a corner in us that admires the ability to let go, and secretly harbors things that we wish to let go of also. Through our smiles and often seemingly worry free lives, there is something we want to let go of -- fears, anger, suspicions, memories, insecurities; something. We want a spiritual freedom that Francis personifies, but letting go is not easy.

Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." When Francis ran up against his family and church officials who actually expelled him from the town, he was able to do so firmly in the knowledge that he was loved by God, even if it appeared that no one else did and that was enough for him. He felt so connect to that love that he was able to let go of everything else.

Part of the modern problem of letting go of the spiritual burdens we so often carry is that we're not as sure of the love of God that Francis was. Echoes of the images of a vengeful, angry, and punishing God make us really question that loving God. God may love others, but can God love me? That fundamental question cuts to the heart of so much spiritual angst. The answer is a thousand times yes. If we would just believe it.

I fell compelled to talk about the suicides that made the news this week. There were five young men -- teenagers -- who killed themselves this past week because they were gay and were harassed, bullied or humiliated to a degree that they couldn't handle it and felt their only way out was suicide.

Justin Aaberg, age 15 in Minnesota; Asher Brown, age 13 in Houston Texas; Billy Lucas, aged 15 in Indiana; Seth Walsh, aged 13 in California and Tyler Clementi aged 18 in New Brunswick, NJ, at Rutgers University. These deaths represent only a few of the epidemic of teen age suicide in this country alone. Suicide is the third leading cause of death among those aged 15 -- 24 years old behind accident and homicide. The primary reason cited is depression, and that is caused by a variety of circumstances such as divorce, rejection at school, lack of success at school, death of someone close to them, feelings of unworthiness or substance abuse.

The role of a gay identity in this equation is receiving a lot more attention, especially in light of these cases that get such national publicity. Suicides are heart breaking for the survivors and the helplessness of wondering what could have been done to prevent it is matched by the rage of appalling actions that prompted it on the part of bullies, uncaring or insensitive family members or the intolerance of houses of faith, most notably churches.

The simple message of Jesus' love is too often obscured by a horrific message of death and destruction in the guise of Christianity that is judgmental, cruel and simply wrong. I know what it's like to be a gay teenager terrified of discovery and rejection. Watching my every move as young person, what I say, how I say it, in case I might give myself away. Between friends and family, the stakes are very high for people so young and before the internet, there was no one to talk to and so like some of you I carried the burden alone for years and it twisted inside me not knowing how to find an escape.

The internet seems like a mixed blessing in that regard. It allows the youth to know that they are not alone, but also gives a false sense of safety and acceptance that is not universal. For all our progress, young people are still vulnerable to the viciousness of intolerant judgment and possible physical injury.

I often make humor of the fact that I don't like football. I don't like what it stands for or the acceptability of fatality and injury in the name of entertainment. Never the less I played the game in high school all four years and received honorable mention in the state's standings in my senior year. I did not like the game, but it was a place for me to hide because it didn't fit the image of a gay teen.

What made things easier for me was my church. I never felt condemned or judged there. Only love. Now, I didn't want to test it, by telling anyone there I was gay, but at least I didn't hear any anti gay rhetoric from the pulpit. Prayer became my solace and refuge and I took serious the quote we read today from Matthew. "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Jesus did that for me, still does. I needed it then and I often need it still.

We have a responsibility to ourselves and our children and youth to counteract the message of hate and negativity that is so often heard from some segments of the Christian church. We have to assure everyone who will listen that God's love and acceptance is real, even when the culture's may not be. My heart aches for those young people who took their lives because they never really heard that message. I fear the wave of intolerance that seems to be growing in this country threatening freedom all the while promising it. Being gay is part of a wide spectrum of human sexuality that is a gift of God. It is not a sin and youth who are discovering their sexuality need to know that and love and accept themselves as God does.

The healing ministry here is very important. It's always been important to me because I've always felt a need for it in one way or another. It begins with prayer and knowledge of the love of God. It helps to hear that from a pulpit, it helps to hear it from the lips of a fellow parishioner and it helps to read it in the Bible. But once you hear it and accept it, you have to share it. You never know whose life you might save. Their spiritual life, their emotional life, or perhaps even their physical life.

Bullying is wrong and cannot be tolerated at any level, whether it's in the school yard or in the state house or the US Congress. Abuse cannot be tolerated whether in the church, or the home or the school.

Today I focused on the gay issue because of the recent news items. But even here it's only an example of the kinds of burdens that secrets can be. There are so many other burdens that people carry related to other parts of their lives. Addictions, affairs, debt, self esteem -- so many.

We have so much that needs to be healed and it's fear of judgment from others that keeps it inside us. Even fear in a deeper sense that God will condemn. I believe that's why Jesus said, the truth shall set you free. Some of our truths we embrace and share proudly. Others we hide in fear or shame. But the truth ultimately will set us free. But until that happens, the truths that we hold in fear are extremely burdensome. Begin telling your truth in prayer and eventually with another person. Seek healing, find it and offer healing in the love of God.

Francis learned that a long time ago and still teaches us in his word of love and praise to God who created us and loves us and through Jesus said, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Amen.

A Challenge to Remember the Poor

2010-09-26T18:37:00.000-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The thread that runs through the readings this morning is a call to those who are wealthy, and a challenge to remember the poor. Amos forecasts correctly that the carefree lives of the wealthy in his time would be devastated by the arrival of the Syrians who would drag them away as prisoners and be relocated hundreds of miles away from their homes, with little to no hope of returning or of reclaiming the wealth that once was theirs. Their identification with the poor would take on a very real dimension, as he ominously understates, "the revelry of the loungers shall pass away."

In his first Epistle to Timothy, Paul also addresses the wealthy with a command not to be "haughty" but be generous and "rich in good works." The Gospel is the famous parable of Lazarus and the rich man - a cautionary tale of wealth and responsibility.

Questions emerge in these stories about who is wealthy and who is poor. In a financial sense all of us are wealthy in global statistics. We would probably describe ourselves as "comfortable" rather than wealthy. We can always point to someone else as a standard of wealth, Bill and Melinda Gates being the only exception to that statement. We can drive through parts of cities and see poverty, but the worst levels of the poorest of humanity is not something that most of us have seen. And it's those levels that are the majority in the world.

I've traveled through rural parts of Mexico and seen desperate poverty from the comfort of a bus. A country which I was surprised to learn is ranked in the top third of the wealthiest countries in the world. I also saw deplorable poverty in the townships in South Africa where corrugated steel shacks passed for housing. And as bad as what I saw is, these aren't even the poorest places.

There really is no doubt that we are among the wealthiest people in the world in terms of percentage, more than just comfortable. Lessons like the ones we heard this morning are not unusual in the Bible. The concern for the poor is a constant theme, and Jesus talks more about money than any other single topic, well, perhaps the Kingdom of God edges it out, but not by much.

When I was growing up, there was a common teaching that in polite company one does not discuss money, politics or religion - at least one's own. Those of the person down the street seemed to be fair game. But here we have it all.

There are no simple answers. It's a tough subject and avoiding it doesn't allow us to grow. Wrestling with difficult issues is immensely important and the decisions we make concerning them is crucial and has far reaching impact. And there is more at stake even, than just what we decide to contribute financially to causes and social services.

There are relationships involved. Family relationships are strained if not ruptured occasionally when those with less look to those with more for assistance. Does one help out once? Occasionally? Whenever asked? What is the responsibility of one for the other? Entitlement, envy, resentment, so many conflicts can arise even within families. Similar among neighbors, or segments of society, nations and people's.

Our political parties battle over these issues whether it's taxes to be raised or lowered, social services to be continued or not, health insurance, it's a huge web of conflicting interests, understanding of the issues and solutions.

We don't live on level playing fields. The relative wealth of our families has put us in good stead. We have access that others don't, unless they are very lucky indeed. Education is often cited as a key to advancement. Certainly it is, but no one can claim that equal educational opportunities are available to all children. Many do get left behind.

Our problems are systemic and will not go away any time soon. Even Jesus said, "The poor you will always have with you..." I believe the spiritual illness that creeps in the cracks here is that we too often label the poor as lazy or unmotivated, conniving and out to beat the system. Accusations of "fraud" are hurled with great regularity at welfare recipients for example, temporarily forgetting the larger frauds committed by wealthier people. It is a process of dehumanizing the poor in our thinking and in our arguments and defenses as a way of solving the conflict we may feel inside, especially when reading such scriptures. We do this in war and all levels of major conflict. It's easier to attack the human value of those with whom we disagree or are called into challenging relationships. When that happens, we are trapped by spiritual illness.

It's not so much that one is rich and one is poor in the scriptures, it's that one overlooks the humanity of the other that causes the problems. If you're like me when you ride the subway and a panhandler comes by, I'll avoid eye contact. Eye contact is almost a guarantee that some kind of conversation is about to happen, and it's not always a good one. Eye contact establishes relationship and it's much, much stickier. We avoid eye contact, we avoid looking, we avoid acknowledging because we haven't figured out what we should do. There is fear at the heart of that avoidance and a sense of guilt that we're not doing enough. We then have to wrestle with the question, "what is enough, then?"

We're Christians and we look to Jesus for guidance. He helped those he met along the way. He looked them in the eye, held their hands, washed their wounds sometimes and always told them about God's love. He was not afraid to engage their humanity. When we engage the humanity of another, we become more fully human ourselves.

When I went to the townships in South Africa my heart ached at the expanse of suffering. I can't do anything to fix that. And yet I can do something. Im still in communication with some people I met there and financially help some go to school. I care about people I had not known before in a different way. And it's not just giving money. It's having seen their eyes, shaken their hands, embraced and remembered the bond of kinship that we all share in Christ. It's even about Facebooking (horrible as that is) and seeing how they are. It's a lot different than riding by in a bus. There was no human interaction there.

In these lessons this morning I don't see a guilt trip for the rich, or the finger pointing of judgment. I see the warning not to lose sight of the fact that all people are our brothers and sisters and at the very least deserve a look in the eyes and an acknowledgment that they are loved by God. What we do with the internal conflict that may get generated is for us to figure out. But it cannot be from callous disregard or capricious judgment, but honest spiritual wrestling. Our Christian faith doesn't provide easy answers, but somehow is good at posing challenging questions. Our faith gets shaped in that uncomfortable place, as it happens.

The closing hymn this morning is written by Frank Mason North somewhere around 1903. He was a Methodist minister and asked to write a hymn for the Methodist Hymnal. He lived in New York City and wrote of what he saw. Even though it's more than a hundred years old, the words still ring true: Where cross the crowded ways of life, where sound the cries of race and clan, above the noise of selfish greed, we hear thy voice O Son of Man. The poetry continues and finds it's answer in the love of God. And that's where we'll find our answers. Amen.

Homecoming Sunday

2010-09-19T13:48:00.000-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Some parables are easier than others to figure out. Last week we had the relatively easy lost sheep and coin. This week we have the not-so-easy Dishonest Steward.

One of the things that makes this parable so unsettling is that Jesus appears to praise the shenanigans of the dishonest steward and encourage us to do likewise. Even the logic of the stewards trickery eludes me. Surely the rich man who goes over the confiscated ledgers will know that he was owed one amount from each of the borrowers and that the amount had been lowered. It then occurred to me that it might be similar to the offer that credit card companies give. If a person is significantly behind in their payments, they can settle for a lesser amount if they pay it in full. In this way it would appear that the credit company makes something back rather than losing it all. Perhaps the dishonest steward made a similar judgment in lowering the amounts.

Also, notice that he never refutes the allegations of mismanagement in the first place. I must say that was refreshing, for someone who didn't do the job well to admit it. We live in a culture of denial and deflection. I'll credit the dishonest steward with at least a little bit of honesty in that regard!

The best sense I can make of this parable is how Jesus uses human behavior to make a point. The Gospels always present Jesus as a shrewd judge of character, one who see through smoke screens and can make a spiritual lesson out of anything. This might just be the case. When he needed to, the unjust Steward became creative and efficient. If he had demonstrated these qualities earlier, there would have been no problem. Now that's human nature.

How many parents have told their children that if they put the same effort into their homework as they do trying to get out of it, they would have been finished? How many times has my procrastination come back to haunt me and when I finally have to do the task I realize I could already have done it. You may have similar stories of your own. Avoidance is a terrible waste of time and gets in the way of accomplishing good things. But we do it. And then like the unjust steward, when the chips are down, get to work.

While avoidance and procrastination is part of the parable, the deals that get made in order to provide a safe landing are another. All the others sign onto the dishonest stewards' plan, making them in effect just as dishonest as he was. Accessories to the crime, as it were. Again, creative and efficient. The praise of the rich man for the whole scheme is a real puzzle as well.

In a spiritual way, I think and I hope, that the point Jesus made was to acknowledge the creativity and drive rather than praise the goals of those who behaved so dishonestly. There have been many examples of unjust stewards in the news these past few years - people who have brilliantly circumvented the law and totally disregarded any moral compass to achieve goals of acquiring money, power or prestige. Despite the horrendous damage done, there is an objective case that can be made for the ingenuity involved. If those same people had applied their ingenuity to legal ways of bettering the lives of the people they purported to be serving, what an amazing world we would live in.

If everyone in positions of power and authority were honest for just one year, the world would be transformed. But it is not so. Perhaps this is what Jesus was lamenting as well by musing that the children of light should be as crafty as the dishonest if we are to move ahead.

In the context of our lessons, there is a sense of the responsibility of leadership that arises. Amos looks at the corruption of business practices in his day increasing the suffering of the poor. The Epistle encourages people to pray for their leaders to make good decisions that promote peace and justice. In another place in the Gospels Jesus says, to whom much is given, much is required. The benefits that we have, whether through our own ingenuity or luck of the draw or inheritance, can be used simply for our own comfort, or it can be used as an opportunity to serve others.

This is our Homecoming Sunday. As we return our focus to the ministry here we do so in the comfort of beautiful buildings and a reasonably comfortable cash flow. In a day when churches are closing or merging due to lack of income, we are in a strong position despite our challenges and wrestling with the deficit. We could use all these assets for our own comfort and close the doors to any outside need. But we don't do that. We open our doors to other groups and agencies that share a compatible mission with ours. Groups that enhance the lives of children, 12 step and bereavement groups, educational and cultural groups, events that witness to social justice. We have been given much from generations of faithful St. Georgians and we're doing our part by using these resources responsibly, generously and creatively. Needs and resources will continually change with each passing year and good stewardship is a moving target. But Jesus's teachings that if we keep our eye on God's service and justice that the rest will take care of itself.

As a community we work with this and as a community we remind ourselves and witness to others that our common faith calls us to step out in service to others as a way of demonstrating our commitment to God and ourselves.

In the prayer attributed to St. Francis, there is a line that says, "For it is in giving that we receive..." We grow spiritually and deepen in humanity when we use our personal and communal gifts for the good of others and in God's service.

I once had lunch with a new member of a church I served who said it was time for her to get more involved in the life of the parish. I thought "Great, you'll get no argument from me!" Through sighs and thoughtful frowns, she listed the activities she thought she could consider. I was struck by the painful prospect this was becoming. She settled on one and wondered what I thought. I said I think that would be a terrible mistake. She was a bit surprised since that wasn't my part of anticipated script. Rather, I said, "Lets' look at your talents and passions." As we explored those and how they might be used to generate a new program in the church, she lit right up and started to feel energized. God gave us gifts and talents to be used. And in using them we become more alive than if we had not.

St. George's has a long tradition of strong lay leadership, and leadership has responsibility. Among those, it seems to me are authenticity and determination. Any one who expresses a desire to serve, must do so from a love of God that inspires service and then discern the gifts they have and how they can best be utilized in the service of others. It's exciting and challenging and can be scary at times. But it brings us life and abundant life.

On this Homecoming Sunday I hope we all renew our commitment to God and to this wonderful place where we have come to know God better in the fellowship of other seekers. In a world with so many creative dishonest stewards, we need all the creative honest stewards we can find! Be that and more in God's love and service. Amen.

"By their fruit shall you know them"

2010-07-18T12:00:00.012-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

This week the lesson from Amos is a follow up to last week's lesson. Last week in a vision Amos saw God holding a plumb line. God asked Amos what he saw, Amos said a plumb line and the meaning of the vision unfolded.

This week we focus on the next vision Amos saw. In this one, God is holding a basket of summer fruit and asks Amos what he sees, and Amos says a basket of summer fruit. So much for the obvious. After that the symbolism unfolds.

A basket of ripe fruit is a beautiful sight. The colors and textures, the promise of sweet, juicy goodness is wonderful. Before the days of preservatives and importing fruit from around the world, seasonal fruit was a fleeting pleasure to be enjoyed... in season.

In happier days the writer of Ecclesiastes wrote, "To everything there is a season and a time for everything under heaven..." In the season of Summer fruit: the promise of luscious, nutritious delight.

What a shame to let it rot. To spoil and go bad, to lose its taste and appearance. The promise unfulfilled. The danger facing any basket of fruit is that if not careful, it can go bad and be of no use to anyone.

In a deeper, spiritual way, the fruit held in the basket by God was the people of Israel. Each one beautiful and perfect in their own way. But this basket of fruit was spoiling and Amos could see it as clearly as the passing fruit in the vision.

What follows the vision in scripture is a list of offenses commonly committed by the people. Venders cheating customers by tampering with the weights by which they measured their money and products. Grumbling over religious holidays in which they could not do business. Placing poor people into indentured servitude when they could not pay their exorbitant bills. Offerings in the temple were supposed to be the finest fruit and strongest animals. What was given was the least and worst that no one wanted anyway.

That is how Amos saw the fruit of Israel spoiling. The consequence was just around the corner, and it hit hard. The horrible predictions of suffering came true in the form of an invading army from Babylon and the destruction of life as the people knew it. From a political science point of view, Israel's location between the two powerful and often warring nations of Assyria and Egypt put them in harm's ways every few generations. Their temperate climate and beautiful landscape made them a desirable place to station occupying armies of one side or the other, depending on who was victorious.

From the religious point of view, God left the people who forsook Him to their own devices. The original covenant between God and Abraham was that if the Israelites, worshiped God as they should, God would protect them. If they didn't, Israel was on its own. Amos favored the religious point of view, as prophets tended to.

In the Gospel lesson, Martha and Mary, sisters to each other and friends of Jesus, have come to represent work and worship. Martha is hard working getting things ready for Jesus and the disciples while Mary listens to his words. Martha complains, and Mary is praised. I have an image of an indignant Martha, untying her apron, rolling it in a ball and throwing it at them and saying "Fine, fix your own dinner!" as she stomps out. Clearly a balance is needed.

There has always been a delicate balance between work and worship, between faith and living in the world. How does faith or your moral and spiritual values inform your work life and decisions. Most people squirm at such questions, even clergy, because like we discussed last week, the answer isn't always as cut and dried as Amos would have us believe. People of good faith and good intent argue passionately about what is the best balance between business and public good. More government, less government; leave businesses alone or regulate them; national versus state authority. The most effective answers usually fall in between the vocal extremes, but the public theater in which politics and legislation lives has a role also.

There is an old expression that says, "Let the buyer beware." Amos would ask, "Why does the buyer need to be aware?" The vendor should be honest and provide service as well as goods. People should be scandalized to think that anyone would try to cheat or misrepresent their business. Honesty should be beyond reproach. This is what it means to be good fruit. Jesus told his followers, "By their fruit shall you know them. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit." I'm tempted to ask what kind of fruit you are, but that might change the tenor of the discussion at hand!

We are challenged daily by the temptation to get ahead by any means necessary, even if those means are questionable to outright dishonest or illegal. The moral compass we claim is the body of scriptures we call holy. They are holy because they contain what we hold as the spiritual truths of love and justice radiating from God, incarnate in Jesus, and circulating among us through the Holy Spirit. These truths, housed in churches in sacraments, are our best hope at living in peace and security within the loving embrace of God.

Regarding the covenant between God and Abraham and Abraham's actual and spiritual descendants, I don't think God ever walks away. I think we do, and God lets us. Fortunately God allows us to come back after we discover that our way is generally not the best way.

Israel in Amos' time was weakened through it's own internal deterioration. In the face of stress they buckled as a nation and fell prey to outside forces. Many of their challenges are our challenges today, nationally, globally, and individually. Like Martha, we do need to work. We need to provide a good environment for ourselves, those we love and those that come after us. But like Mary we need to listen very carefully to the words of Jesus to keep us in line and on track. I believe that fear is at the base of greed and injustice -- fear that there will not be enough or that we will not be protected. That fear and the behavior it engenders creates a self fulfilling prophecy. Faith brings a confidence in God's love to take care of us in ways that may not always fulfill what we want, but will see to what we need. Mary chose the better way, and shows us that we can too. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Compassion is the Plumb Line

2010-07-11T19:13:00.005-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A plumb line is a weight attached to a length of string that a builder uses to determine if a wall is straight up and down, or whether it's leaning dangerously to one side or the other with the possibility of falling. There are instruments in construction today that use lasers for the same purpose, especially on high rise buildings.

One of the jobs I held during my college years was for a construction company as an assistant to a field engineer. It was our job to make sure all the lines were straight, those that went sideways and those that went up and down. You can imagine the dilemma that would arise if foundations were set for walls that didn't quite match up. Window frames, doors, in fact all the facets of building are based on precise measurements, regardless of how big or small the job. We were given the wiggle room of 1/8 of an inch, whether the distance was 30 feet or 300, it could only vary by that much. Anything else would have to be torn up and reset, or seriously redesigned.

But any builder has to use whatever equipment is available to do the job. Apparently when God was talking to Amos, there were no lasers. So a plumb line had to suffice. The metaphor was one of several Amos writes about in which he receives the message that the nation of Israel is in real trouble. To bring the metaphor a little further, if the plumb line is used in time, it can detect the problem and save the wall before it falls over.

Jesus uses a different kind of plumb line in his story of the Good Samaritan. He takes the measure of a person by the kindness he or she shows. It's a familiar story, but some of the details are interesting to reflect on.When the Priest and the Levite saw the man beaten and bleeding, perhaps already dead, they crossed the street. I had always assumed it was because of apathy and not wanting to get involved. That's certainly a possibility and gives plenty of grist for the mill. However, I've come to see it rather as the scrupulous following of the law. The codes of purity are quite clear in the books of the law. If the priest or Levite -- or anyone else for that matter, touches a body in such condition, they become unclean. They break a law. They were actually obliged to cross over and not touch the man.

The Samaritan allowed the law of compassion to override the legal code and is the hero of the story. He is the neighbor to the man, and follows the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves.

While it's interesting to talk about the role of apathy as a possibility in this story, I like the clash of laws better. It's murkier and both sides can claim to be right. The fact that Jesus weighs in on the side of Samaritan shows his cards, but Jesus was always getting in trouble with the established authorities for turning laws on their head. Healing on the Sabbath, eating meals with sinners -- the very things we praise him for these days were sources of trouble that ultimately got him crucified.

Jesus offered a different lens for his followers to see through. Compassion trumps legalism. The implications for that teaching in our day are far reaching, and disturbing. The conduct of our nation and every nation is based on laws. They are strictly codified, and the equality of their enforcement is debatable, but most reasonable people are agreed that laws are imperative for a society to exist. There are sticky issues we deal with currently with immigration, gay marriage, gun control, accountability for financial or ecological disasters that stretch the laws and seem to go beyond comfortable territory. As God holds the plumb line which I shall call "compassion" based on the Gospel lesson, some will call the wall straight while others won't. It will be argued about until the wall falls over and then it's too late. That's sort of what happened in Israel with the unfortunate demise of King Jereboam and his advisor Amaziah, and the conquering of the nation of Israel. If the wall is seen to be the righteousness of the nation, Amaziah, in effect, kept saying the wall was straight, and Amos said it most certainly was not. And it did fall very hard.

In all the debates about current issues, I hear voices of anger, fear, bigotry, greed, apathy, and denial. I hear very few about compassion and asking the question, "Who is my neighbor?"

Like the priest and the Levite in the Gospel story, it's easy not to challenge what's legal or "always been done this way." It's hard to seek the good of others over the false security of doing business as usual. Whether on the global level or in our everyday lives, it's murky to look at issues that pit compassion over what we've always believed to be right. But if we're going to build the kingdom of God we've got to make sure the building is strong, on a good foundation and won't topple over. Jesus is the foundation and the compassion evidenced in the parable of the Good Samaritan is the plumb line.

Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Resting, Silence and Allowing God In

2010-06-20T12:00:00.001-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Among the healing stories in the scriptures, the story we read today is well known. I did flinch, however, to discover that the story of a demented man plagued by demons, was assigned for Father’s Day! The good news, though, is that the man is healed and the demons were cast out. But before I spend more time on this story, let’s take a look at the first lesson.

Last week we read a story about the confrontation between the prophet Elijah, King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. The king and queen had conspired to kill a good man simply to take possession of his land. This week we have another story from the trove of stories which pit these ancient adversaries against each other.

The background for today’s story gives a context for why Elijah ran for his life. Jezebel was a foreigner, a Phoenician princess in a political marriage to Ahab, the King of Israel. She successfully converted Ahab from the worship of the Israelite God to the one called Baal. Elijah, as a prophet of the Israelite God with access to the throne room, locked horns with Jezebel on this issue. The two contrived a strange bet in which 450 of the priests of Baal would offer a sacrifice on one altar and Elijah by himself would offer a sacrifice on another. Whichever sacrifice God accepted would demonstrate the real religion. Not surprisingly a bolt of fire from heaven consumed the sacrifice prepared by Elijah and in a gruesome caveat to the bet, namely winners kill losers, Elijah cut the throats of all 450 priests of Baal. By now we also know enough about Jezebel to know that she would not be a gracious loser. She set out for revenge and Elijah ran out of town before she could make good on her threat.

It’s at this point that our lesson today begins. Ultimately Elijah is hiding in a cave where he is cold, hungry and really discouraged. Like many prophets before him, he did as God told him and he got deeper into trouble running for his life. It’s little wonder that the first word out of anyone called by God to serve as a prophet is "NO"!

It’s what happens at the cave that is of particular interest. God tells Elijah that he will come to him and presumably set things right. While waiting Elijah experience a great wind, an earthquake and a fire - each time running out of the cave thinking that each huge phenomenon must be God’s approach. But it’s not. Only when the silence envelopes him does he hear God’s voice clearly tell him what he must do.

Our point of entry into this story, and even how this connects to the Gospel story of Legion, is in how to find God in the midst of struggle. Whether we’re talking about Elijah or the man possessed by demons, each was beset by a cacophony of noise in the midst of crisis. Actual noise and the noise in the head. As an interesting aside, Baal is also the God of thunderous elements in what might be another comparison or competition between the God of Israel and the foreign god. In this second struggle, Elijah holds fast and meets God in silence. In the language of story and symbol, progress is made when the noise ceases and we allow silence to enter in. Quiet brings a sense of balance and the ability to hear God in a profound way.

One of the obstacles to meditation is the wandering mind. During attempts to meditate, the brain is sometimes compared to a dozen monkeys on caffeine. It’s difficult to clear the noise in our heads at times of crisis. Noise and frenetic activity generally accompany problems, accidents, arguments or any type of stress or struggle. Finding a calm moment is very difficult, and yet, until that is achieved, little progress can be made. Whatever crisis arose for the prophets of old or those of ours today, come in so many forms and from so many different corners of our lives. Physical, emotional, spiritual; individual, societal or ecological crisis come and in their wake a swirl of noise and confusion. Healing is the restoration of balance and the discovery of resolution. The first thing doctors tell us to do when recovering from an illness or procedure is rest. We don’t want to and we pay the price if we neglect their advice. The condition will get worse and continue to do so until we do as we are told.

As difficult as it is to rest when a doctor tells us, it’s even more so when we’re told that the solution to an emotional or spiritual crisis is in resting and silence and allowing God in. And yet we pay a larger price if we do not.

Sometimes I take my own advice and when I’m under stress or dealing with a problem, I will stop and pray and meditate, listening for the voice of God. It does come in the deep sense of knowing what needs to be done. My difficulty is often that I don’t’ like the answer. I get into deeper trouble when I do what I would prefer, rather than what I know deep inside to be God’s voice, and what is right.

Just as our illnesses take many different forms and the healing takes many different forms, the common denominator is God as the source of that healing. God is the essence of life and love and it is in this essence that we find healing for whatever troubles us. When Mary Davis was ordained Deacon a couple weeks ago, the preacher reminded us of an old acronym when telling us that our egos usually get in the way of doing God’s will. She said that ego stands for Edging God Out.

Elijah in the cave did a lot of that while he was feeling sorry for himself and the man possessed of demons was unable to be healed until he allowed God to touch him in that place of pain that kept him so tormented. The demons were self destructive as so many of our modern day demons are as well. We are plagued by so many of them, actual mental illness, addictions, guilt, shame, fear, anger, insecurity, and they are legion. But until we stop and allow God to come in through the door of silence we create in prayer the tormenting cycle will continue. Whatever solution or resolution will bring healing, it will arrive through the still, small voice that so caught Elijah’s attention.

This sermon has been a rather long appeal to use prayer as part of your daily life to cast out the demons which may plague you. Find prayers in books, even our own Prayer Book, online find one through St. Google - the new patron saint of seekers, or when all else fails, speak from your heart to the heart of God. It’s a direct line, and doesn’t need fancy words or prose, just honesty. We don’t always like the answer, I warn you now, but we don’t have to. God seems to be more interested in giving us what we need rather than what we want. Prayer works and it leads to healing. Perhaps not all at once, but gets it going.

From the psalm we read this morning, "As the deer longs for the water brooks, so longs my soul for you, O God." I believe God longs for us to drink of that brook too. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Death, Healing and New Life

2010-06-06T12:00:00.006-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the first lesson from the first Book of the Kings we heard the widow say to Elijah, "Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth."

The Old Testament and Gospel lessons are linked today most certainly because of the similarity in them about the raising to life of the sons of these two widows. At first glimpse it seems that the miracles were for the sons. But, I believe, the miracles were really for the mothers.

In the first lesson it is Elijah, one of the great prophets of the Old Testament who performs the miracle. It's actually one of several miracles he performs for this poor family. At the urging of God he arrives at the house of the widow and her son as they are about to eat the last of their grain and brace themselves to starve to death. The first miracle is one of abundance. The grain and oil that never run out. They did not starve but had plenty. It is a statement of faith, and a beautiful story. It says so much about the importance of giving, even at the last. By itself, it would have been a wonderful and complete story full of lessons of hospitality and generosity - how giving provides a limitless well of love and spiritual nourishment.

But the wisdom of scriptures take this story the next step. Sometimes even after the giving tragedy strikes and anger arises. The widow is furious at Elijah. He had given them hope in the final moments of their despair and brought them back from the brink of death. When the widow's son dies, it seems too cruel for her to imagine that after what they had gone through, the boy would die and she would be left alone. She does not take this last bit quietly. She accosts Elijah and unleashes her anger, frustration and grief. Elijah prays and the boy is restored to life. Not only Elijah's credibility, but God's is restored.

The echo of this story in the Gospel is unmistakable. But in the Gospel it's a little clearer as to whom the gift of life is given. As Jesus sees the funeral procession go through the town, it's the widow, the mother of the dead boy, on whom he has compassion. We would assume that he had compassion on the boy and brought him to life. But that's not the case. Jesus, like Elijah, had compassion on the mothers and raised their sons. There is the natural grief of a parent for a child in the story, but the details provided about them being widows and their sons being their only child is important. The best hope for these women to be cared for in their old age was their sons. The burden of grief would be multiplied in both cases by falling into lives of destitution and further poverty. The sons were beyond any need in their deaths, but Elijah and Jesus after him had compassion on the mothers, and brought their sons back to life.

Healing stories are all throughout the Bible and each has a deeper meaning past the miracle it tells. Stories of death and life are the most profound since they plumb the depths of human emotion and need. Our point of contact with them is in our deepest moments of emotion and need. I recently spoke with a woman whose partner of many years died. She spoke of her anger at God. "How could he do this to her," she cried. I knew her pain and have felt it also. I too survived a partner's death and felt the anger aimed at God. In time I came to a different conclusion though. In time I came to realize that death is a release to the person who is ill. It is, in fact, the ultimate healing. The heaven I believe our loved ones are in far exceeds any pain or tragedy they endured here. In my case I finally had to admit to myself that my anger at God had more to do with the question, not how could you do this to him, but how could you do this to me? The ones who are left behind to grieve have horrible pain as well. We experience a death in our own right. Our lives are emptier and filled with many unresolved issues, and the dreams of the future fall into shards of stabbing pain. While the dead are born to new life in God's love, we who are left behind, are faced with searching for new life, and it's painful and lasts a long time.

This, I believe, is where the widows' felt their anger and grief, and it was in this pain that Elijah and Jesus offered them new life. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all our loved ones could be told to rise off their death beds. But in the wisdom of scripture, it is we who are still in this life that have to rise off ours. We can turn to God for healing and the new life that grows. It does not grow immediately, unfortunately, but it does over time. I shared my story with the woman and validated her pain and disorientation. I told her it was going to hurt for a long time and that she was not going to feel comfortable wherever she was. Moving wasn't going to help. Changing churches wasn't going to help. For a while, nothing was going to help. The pain lessens in time, though it never goes away fully. But out of that grief comes a new strength and a new life. She was a bit taken aback by my bluntness, but at the same time seemed grateful. Sometimes we pad difficult truths too much, and they need to be taken head on.

The deaths in the scripture lessons prompted my telling this story, but I think the same is true for any deep pain we feel that can go deep into our souls. Ultimately, it's not the son of the women who are told to rise, but the women themselves. Whatever has happened in our lives that threatens our spiritual, emotional, or even physical well being - we are in further danger of falling into despair. As the oil crises worsens in the Gulf of Mexico, the shadows of death lengthen there in the untold number of deaths in the ecological sense, the animal and fish life, and the ways of life for those dependent on the sea for their livelihood.

God's love, in the form of Jesus' command comes to us, "Do not weep... I say to you rise." Sometimes we need a stern command to snap us out of our pain. Healing is in the rising. Ironically, even those preparing to die, can rise to a healing place in their acceptance and preparation.

In his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul talks of his new life rising from the death of his old one. His conversion has become well known to us in the revelation of Jesus to him as he rode to Damascus. In this lesson he says again how far up in the Jewish hierarchy he had gotten and how all that changed when he encountered the risen Christ. A new life opened to him that he could never have imagined. He, who had persecuted the church, became one of its staunchest advocates and evangelists.

Yesterday, two women were ordained deacons in the Cathedral in Newark. One of them, Mary Davis, did her field work here for two years and was very much part of this congregation. It was a real pleasure for me to be one of those who presented her to the Bishop for ordination. I was proud to see so many from St. George's there to support her on behalf of our church. As the preacher told them, "Everything's changed!" And for them it has. They will grow into their new lives as ordained clergy, discovering what that means in the particular ways in which God has called them into service.

Themes of death and life constantly cross our paths. Actual deaths of loved ones, loss of jobs, leaving homes we love, disappointments in love or family. The temptation will be to die inwardly. But the love of God is and always will be on the side of life. We may weep a little bit, but after a while the voice of Jesus will find ways to come to us and say, "Do not weep, I say to you arise." When this story comes into our lives, we may find ourselves in the role of the widow, perhaps the son, or perhaps Elijah. There will be anger, there will be pain, there will be confrontation. But ultimately there will be the healing love of God bringing new life and giving new meaning to the words of the widow of Zaraphath, "Now I know that you are a person of God, and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth." Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Ascension Day

2010-05-16T12:00:00.007-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The feast of Ascension Day, which we observe this morning, was actually this past Thursday. It enshrines one of the doctrines of the church and is in the Nicene Creed, which we’ll recite after the sermon. In those words we will say "...he ascended in to heaven and is seated at the right and of the Father."

After the resurrection of Jesus, the scriptures say he appeared to them for forty days until he ascended in the manner it was described in our lessons this morning.

When I was a child this puzzled me. I enjoyed the story of the disciples gathered with Jesus on a hill and he began to ascend in front of them, saying that it was necessary and that he would return one day. That’s when it became puzzling to me. Where did he go? My childhood occurred during the sixties and that was also the decade of early space flight. Since the body went up in the air, like the helium balloons I’d let go of, something had to happen. Balloons popped, I understood that. Presumably Jesus didn’t pop, but kept going. Did he go into space and would the astronauts see him, I wondered. Would he need the same breathing apparatus they needed, or does being God’s son make it OK. Who does he talk to? I was an inquisitive child with many questions. All of them got the same response. It’s the response our Sunday School kids often get from their parents, "Ask the Rector."

I was afraid of him and so my questions went unanswered. By the time I was no longer afraid of him I had made peace with my ignorance. Frankly, I still don’t have the answers to those specific questions, and I still think they’re good ones. However, I have a different way of looking at the issue.

The Ascension is the completion of the incarnation of Jesus. He came into the world mysteriously and he left the world mysteriously. He was born as a result of the promise of God voiced through the prophets for generations and departed with a promise to return. He reflected the love of God which transcends the physical world that we know and is a Spirit that is immortal.

God accesses flesh and spirit. God stepped into the world in human form incarnated in Jesus and also flows though Spirit in the world now as God did before and always will. St. Paul says that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. It’s a wonderful way of saying that God is in us. The creative love of God is spirit that flows through us. It’ humbling, it’s reassuring, and it’s exciting. Through the inspiring Spirit of God within us, we become the body and blood of God in the world - the hands and feet of God beating with the heart of the Holy Spirit. None of which can be proven by the way. But none of which can be denied either. That’s what makes faith so much fun, and our beliefs, what St. Paul called in another place, a stumbling block to those unacquainted with our faith.

The Ascension of Jesus is a reflection on what we can hope for. I’m not talking about whether we will ascend in our bodies the way some Christians insist. I’m hoping for an updated model myself. Car manufacturers are not the only ones whose chassis have planned obsolescence.

I’m talking about a very different hope. And it has to do with the life of faith and love. Consider this: Jesus grew and developed. At the peak of his strength he was beaten, crucified and died. His resurrection was miraculous and breath taking. And his ascension brought him into the realm of Spirit which continues forever.

Also consider our lives. We grow and develop. The peaks of our strength may be physical, but they may also be emotional or psychological. Inevitably something happens and we fall, to where it feels like something inside us dies. But we don’t. We get up, stronger than we thought possible, and continue. In faith, we will hopefully learn from the experiences life brings us, and in our new strength, we ascend into a different spirit. We transcend and in so doing we are transformed. Our spirits are different.

You don’t have to be a theologian to figure that out. All of us have gone through heartbreaking, horrible experiences. Experiences that could have broken us, broken our wills or our spirits. Perhaps in some it might even feel like that. But we are here and we have survived whatever has hurt us. The death of loved ones, divorce, addiction, abuse, war, physical and mental illness, unemployment, bankruptcy, the list can go on. You name it, one of us in here has had it. But we have also survived it, and that is the spirit of God in us that cannot be killed, that resurrects and ascends. We are transformed through our life experiences.

The best of what I have to offer as a priest and pastor, came at the price of the worst things that have happened to me. I’m not getting into them here, don’t worry, but suffice it to say that because of what I have endured and survived, I can counsel and encourage others who go through similar things. And when I go through new things, I can be open and listen to others who have something to tell me. During my life, I have been transformed a few times, and I suspect some more are on the way. It’s inevitable. We all have.

As the disciples watched Jesus ascend into heaven, Jesus said, "...(Y)ou will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the Earth."

We witness the power of the Holy Spirit when we tell another person of our experience of the Spirit of God working in us to transcend the struggles of this life - our own and those of our neighbor. Ascension is that point of transformation from body to spirit, from struggle to triumph. And we are witnesses. Each one of us, because the power of God has flowed through each one of us, guided and protected us, and will continue to do so. We are witnesses.

I no longer worry about the same questions I had as a child about the Ascension. I suppose it’s like worrying about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. We’re all disciples in different places, hearing the word of God and sharing the word of God in different ways. But it is the same spirit blowing within us and among us. We can’t prove it, we may not always feel it, but sometimes we do and as a result, we cannot deny it. The spirit of God is real and transforms us. We are witnesses. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Easter Sunday

2010-04-04T18:57:00.003-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia! The ancient greeting rings out with a truth first described as an idle tale! How about that? The women come back from the tomb of their beloved Jesus telling the disciples about the empty tomb and the angels and the message of Jesus being raised for the dead and the disciples dismissed it as an idle tale. As though the women thought the disciples were being a bit too gloomy and thought they’d perk them up a bit with a resurrection story. Peter goes to verify and him they believe. Somehow the women who stood by Jesus the whole time were making things up, but Peter who denied him was credible. Now that’s an idle tale.

The details of the resurrection the women spoke of are vague and lost in the mist of time and layered story. But something happened. Something so profound as to propel the disciples, not to return to their former lives, but to turn to a lives of missionaries to proclaim the resurrected Jesus. Lives that often led to deprivation, ridicule, persecution and martyrdom. People don’t do that for an “idle tale.” They do that because of some truth that has deeply transformed them. They do that because their lives have so profoundly changed that there was no going back.

In the first lesson we read this morning from Isaiah, we hear the author in the voice of God saying, “..I am about to create a new heaven and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating...” People of faith have always believed in God’s ability to create something new from something old. Order out of chaos. And even life out of death. Over and over again, the stories differ in the details and times, but the essential similarity is the triumph of life over death. The victory of truth and justice over that which is evil and self seeking. There has always been a belief in resurrection.

The story of Jesus’ resurrection is so compelling because it is a victory over death itself. Prior to that, most resurrections had to do with health or life’s circumstances, not life itself. What made Jesus so miraculous is that God’s action created something new. A new heaven and a new earth.

I believe in resurrection. I believe in Jesus’ resurrection and I believe in my resurrection and I believe in your resurrection. I believe in the resurrection of Haiti and Iraq. I believe in the resurrection of people and places where life is in danger or lost. Because I believe that resurrection is life itself and that life doesn’t end, it transforms.

The disciples become interesting case studies for me. They had pretty decent lives before Jesus showed up. Steady jobs, families, they pretty much knew their way around and probably felt relatively secure and comfortable in their lives. Jesus shows up and turns everything upside down. They hit the road, have a little hint of glamour and fame, but that ends badly with an arrest and Jesus’ execution.

But in the midst of all this, they got a taste of a deeper life they didn’t see or know about before and they couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist. They saw and felt the love of God in a powerful way they could no longer live without. They chose a more difficult life, physically, in most of their cases, but we have to assume that the serenity they had in their spirits was worth the price. What an amazing depth of knowing God that would lead them to live the lives they led. For as vague as the details of the Gospels can be about the resurrection, the lives of the disciples who continued to follow Jesus after his resurrection are testimonies not only to Jesus’ resurrection, but their own.

I have experienced resurrection myself through new life that has risen from the ashes of divorce, addiction and the deaths of loved ones. I have seen the resurrection of so many others whose faith in God and the promise of resurrection has changed their lives, especially when they thought it was over. There is a living death that occurs in so many ways, that each of us can testify to. And I’ll bet that without much prompting, many of those stories of living deaths can also be understood to contain the seed of resurrection. And these are not idle tales. They are real.

I’ve seen people in the throes of addiction, what I often call the living dead, who have found new life through recovery. I’ve seen sections of towns and cities come back through the efforts of hard working activists, organizers and regular people on the street. I’ve seen people who faced the deaths of spouses or partners with faith that their lives would continue and did.

I’d like to tell you a particular story of resurrection that I saw last year. While I was on sabbatical last year, the first leg of the trip was to the Holy Cross Monastery in Grahamstown, South Africa. During the month I was there I got to know the small community of brothers pretty well. One of the brothers, Josias, told some of his personal story in a Lenten sermon he preached while I was there. He took for his text Psalm 22 that begins, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me..” It’s a very important psalm since Jesus quotes it from the cross. It’s verses describe the desolation of the speaker and how beaten down he is. The verse Josias focused on was the 6th verse that says, “but as for me I am a worm and no man...”

He stopped there and told a little of his story as a black man born in Johannesburg during the last days of Apartheid. The struggles and tensions in those final days of that evil system, the danger and the temptation to be beaten down by it. His lips trembled with emotion as he told of the assaults on his humanity and how often he was treated like a worm and no man.

He told of his early conviction in his faith and how the love of God in Jesus pulled him out of despair and gave him new life. This shy, soft spoken, sweet young man riveted the congregation when he looked up from his sermon text and declared in full voice, “I am a man, and no worm.”

Resurrection is claiming life from that which appears dead. Josias spoke for all of us in the life circumstances that make us feel “less than”. In God’s love we are people and not worms. We are worthy enough for God to have been incarnated in the life of Jesus, to have given us miracles and healing. To have taught us and shown us the love of God. To have died for us and risen, as proof that life does not end. It changes and deepens, but it does not end.

In truth some people still call stories of resurrection “idle tales”. They are not. Once you’ve seen them or lived them, you can’t deny them. They are wonderful stories of hope and love, and they are worth telling, despite what anyone else thinks.

From the psalm today, verse 24 speaks for us - On this day the Lord has acted, we will rejoice and be glad in it!” Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Good Friday

2010-04-02T22:00:00.003-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A man hangs on a cross. The pain is unimaginable - even by those who inflicted it. Perhaps it’s because they couldn’t imagine it, that they were able to accomplish it. I wonder if anyone who has endured agony can willingly inflict it on someone else without reliving it, without experiencing it again.

When Jesus hung on the cross he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” They didn’t. On the different levels that people exist, they didn’t know. Physically, none of the Centurions had experienced the pain of crucifixion and drove the nails in without knowing what they were doing. The people gathered around had no idea what it was like to be ridiculed unjustly and tortured. They didn’t know what they were doing. The disciples hadn’t been betrayed and set up for a mock trial, and they didn’t know what they had done.

Perhaps it’s because none of them knew that they were able to do the horrible things they did. And still Jesus forgave them, because they didn’t know. Or rather, they didn’t fully know.

Two thieves hung on either side of him. One ridiculed him in the same way the crowds did. The other asked to be remembered, finding in his pain a relationship with Jesus that he didn’t have before. It’s a curious scene between three men, presumably strangers, now bound by history and the common experience of hanging on a cross.

That grim tableau is a microcosm of our world as well. People causing pain to others in crimes and battle without really knowing the fullness of their actions. I wonder if Presidents who have experienced war are more reluctant to declare it than those who have not. I wonder if those who have experienced crime committed against them, or the pain of attack could ever easily commit such things themselves. But in our world, people do things all the time that create pain and havoc while not really knowing what they do from an experiential level.

And in relationship to Jesus, there are people who hang in pain that reflect the reactions of the two thieves. In the moments of their most excruciating pain, some turn toward God while others turn away.

The focal point for all of this is Jesus. The one who hangs in the middle with arms outstretched to gather into one embrace those who ridicule and those who come for comfort. Earlier in his interview with Pontius Pilate, Jesus said that he came into the world to testify to the truth. Pilate asks “What is truth?” For Pilate, truth was no doubt malleable, subject to the spin given it. What people believe to be true is not always truth. People in positions to create the impression of truth understand this and use it to their advantage.

How threatening it is to have someone who embodies truth. That same person will become a light that shows where lies have been told. The truth of Jesus is the unconditional love of God. It’s not earned, or stolen, sold or won. It’s freely given. Because he told this truth, because he lived this truth, because he was this truth, he was arrested and killed. It was too much to bear. I think there is a secret fear common among people - that we are not lovable. Many people have a hard time accepting compliments because they don’t believe the one giving the compliments. Others have a hard time accepting love, because they do not believe themselves worthy of love, or they are hiding some secret truth that if the one offering love knew, would withdraw that love. The simple truth of being loved gets very complicated. As Jesus embodied a truth almost unbearable to accept, he was taken and hurt.

But he forgave them, because they didn’t know what they were doing. He forgave them, because they didn’t know what HE was doing. But in the end it was not in their power to kill him, but it was in his power to help them live.

When I was a teenager my uncle was working on a house from a ladder and fell. He was hospitalized and hurt his back very badly. I drove my grandmother, who at the time was in her late eighties, to the hospital to see her son, who was in his early sixties. I remember being so struck by her quiet tears as she held his hand, saying in a voice meant only for herself, or perhaps it was a prayer - that she could be the one in that bed who was hurt so that her son could be alright.

A mother’s love is a powerful thing. And the desire to relieve the suffering of her child even at her own physical expense is extraordinary. No matter how old the mother, or how old the child the love remains the same.

She was not able to take the place of her son, but that story has become a way for me to understand the depth of love that would have God take the pain of the world to himself as a way to relieve the suffering of humanity. I think the worst form of suffering isn’t even the physical as bad as that is. I think the worst suffering is to be without hope or love.

By knowing, by truly knowing what human suffering is, God enters our world and lives in a way that we cannot know. And in God’s willingness to bear that pain, to take the insults, ridicule and torture God not only embodies the truth of God’s love beyond our knowing, but also the hope that it’s still freely given in the forgiveness of that which we do not know. It simply is. God’s love simply is.

What we do here in story and song is to celebrate that love that would hang on a cross and still not be defeated. It is a wonderful truth. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Maundy Thursday

2010-04-01T22:00:00.001-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Holy Week captures the themes and drama of the love of God in a way that is beautiful, tragically poignant and mystically triumphant. The Tenebrae service last night previewed the themes of the shadows of desolation creeping over the light. With readings of lamentations and psalms that voice the cries of those who are suffering and lost, the spirit touches the depth of pain in any person. Regardless of the circumstances that may have caused the pain in our lives, we are connected to the writers of lamentations and psalms, not in their physical reality, but in their spiritual reality. When the psalmist writes, “Save me O God for the waters have risen up to my neck. I am sinking in deep mire, and there is no firm ground for my feet....” we don’t know what that writer was experiencing that caused him to write this, but we deeply and viscerally understand the emotion behind it.

Quite literally water is rising in this state causing great suffering to those displaced from their homes. I watch the news of my home state Rhode Island also suffering from floods. The cries of “Save me O God..” call out from those facing a literal flood.

The cries from Haiti, the Middle East and so many other places torn by natural disaster and war also need saving from the waters of suffering as they rise. The shadows of Tenebrae give voice to this as they try to overcome the light. But at the end of the service, it is the light of Christ triumphant that will not be put out. The presence of God giving strength and hope to those in need, to those who rescue and those who rebuild.

The service of Tenebrae is abstract in it’s witness. Maundy Thursday, by comparison is much clearer. The Latin word, Mandatum, from which we get the word “Maundy” means command. Jesus gave his disciples the command to love one another as he had loved them. It sounds simple enough, but is so difficult. How can we ever plumb the depths of Jesus’ love for us in order to show that love to each other? As if in response to this unspoken question, Jesus shows them a simple way. He washes their feet. And he expects them to wash each others feet.

The action is bother literal and mystical. Jesus does in fact wash their feet, in much the same way we read the story of Mary washing his feet with her tears in an earlier story this past Lent. It is a sign of humility and love. But it is also a sign of trust and humility on the part of those whose feet are being washed. Jesus’ humility allows them to be vulnerable.

There is an intimacy in washing feet. Many people keep their feet hidden, especially if they are scarred or disfigured, or discolored. Often our feet bear the marks of physical difficulties, a metaphor for the pain traveled along this life’s road. To show another person our feet is to risk them seeing something that is painful for us to let others see.

Again, while that is literally true about our feet, it is also spiritually true. We try to hide and mask the pains and emotional scars that have accumulated in our lives. We do not want others to see them and feel vulnerable if they do.

When Jesus took the disciples feet in his hands to wash, he cleansed the dirt from their feet in a physical way, but also invited them to share their spiritual pain as well. To make themselves vulnerable to his love and healing touch. Love one another as I have loved you, he commands them. Interesting that he does not ask, but commands.

Tomorrow during Good Friday we’ll see just how vulnerable he made himself. The command is to be completely vulnerable and completely trustworthy of another’s vulnerability. It’s both simple and threatening, and difficult. And yet, here we are.

In our ceremony there are four chairs set up. I’ll invite anyone to come forward to sit in any of them and I’ll begin washing the feet as the shoes and socks are removed. I also will invite anyone who wishes to do the washing as well. Some may choose to do both - have your foot washed and then wash another person’s.

Reading bible stories is a rich experience. Beneath the story itself is a layer of human and spiritual truth. That’s what we delve to find. Holy Week is the richest mine of these stories since the themes go the deepest beyond the stories which are powerful in themselves, but even richer in the spirit which moves through them. It is that spirit of God which finds us and invites us in. It is that spirit of Jesus which commands us to learn from Him and love one another as he has loved us.

We’ll have a few moments of silence to meditate on this love and then as I move to the stations I’ll invite those who wish to participate in this part of the ceremony to do so. Amen.

©2010 St. George’s Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

"I am about to do a new thing"

2010-03-21T20:31:00.002-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The first lesson this morning is from the prophet Isaiah. It’s a long book of 66 chapters whose content covers more than a generation of history and material. Biblical scholars have identified four different writing styles, and, given the time span of information covered, have concluded that the book must be the work of four authors whose works have been compiled into one book.

This is not an unusual practice. The authors, using the primary Isaiah as their inspiration, see their works as a continuation of his. In other words, their writing conveys what they believe Isaiah would have said if he was in their situation. The book of Isaiah is the largest of the books called “Major Prophets” in the Old Testament and was written in the years leading up to the sacking of Jerusalem, the beginning of the Babylonian Exile and well into the sixty year period.

In both Jewish and Christian traditions, the Book of Isaiah serves as part of the foundation for the hope and expectation of the Messiah. In our Christian tradition, we hear lessons from Isaiah particularly during the Seasons of Advent and Lent. Both these seasons highlight the aspects of expectation of God’s action in the world. Advent highlights the expectation of the coming of the Messiah into the world, and Lent highlights the expectation of the resurrection.

In the season of Advent we read a passage from Isaiah that is very famous. Here it is: “A voice cries out: In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” It’s a directive to the people of Israel to get ready, to clean house, to prepare for God’s arrival. Prepare personally and prepare as a society. But prepare. That directive is in the 40th Chapter of Isaiah.

Our lesson this morning is from the 43rd Chapter of Isaiah. Listen again and see how these lines compare with those from just a few chapters earlier. “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing, now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert....” I will make a way in the wilderness.

The message that comes through time and again in the Bible is that when we are unable to make a way to God, God will make a way to us. Similar to last week’s story of the Prodigal son, the son makes an effort, but the Father rushes out to embrace him and welcomes him in a much larger way than the son could eve have imagined.

Isaiah makes this theme within the context of a few chapters. It’s good for us to work on the way to God, on preparing and making it clear; but in the end, it is God who makes the way to us. Jesus refers to himself in the Gospels as The Way, the Life and the Truth. In Jesus, God makes a way to us. We know God better because of, and through, Jesus.

Since we’re observing Women’s history month, I’ll use an example from the history of women in the Episcopal Church. Comedian Robin Williams, who is an Episcopalian, drew up a top ten list of reasons to be an Episcopalian. I’m just going to give you one, you can google the rest. Number eight on the list is this: Male and female God created them; male and female we ordain them.

But it wasn’t always that way. Women weren’t allowed to be Vestry members until the 1950’s. The subject of women priests (and no one even breathed about women bishops), came up strong in the 1970’s culminating in the “illegal” ordination of the notorious Philadelphia Eleven in 1976 by “renegade, activist Bishops”. These eleven women were ordained outside the parameters of General Convention and it formed a delicious controversy for many years, some echoes of which still linger. But it also served to break the impasse in the debate and paved the way for General Convention to legislate the ordination of women in the Episcopal Church. Many priests and parishes threatened to leave, some did, and the world continued to turn. But justice was served. In one sense quickly, given the progress from vestry to priesthood in 20 years. But in a larger sense much too slowly, since the whole gender issue of equality was absurdly late in being raised.

The Episcopal Church struggled to make a way in the wilderness and made some noble efforts. But in looking back historically and spiritually, it definitely looks like the Spirit of God moving those who wanted to do what was right and guided the Church into the way of justice. It’s a slow process still, since some dioceses in this country still refuse to ordain women, but even their numbers are dwindling. Globally, the rights of women are shockingly absent and this includes among the Anglican churches for whom women priests are a long way off. But inevitably justice will happen, people will try to make a way into it, and God will do the rest. Love and Justice are of God, and God will not be blocked.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus is at the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. They were clearly good friends since this is the third story that includes them. It also takes place the week before Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem and his crucifixion. There is an ominous tone to this story about the use of expensive oil. Judas takes the posture that it’s a wasteful luxury. The wider context is that Jesus is being prepared for death and burial, although most don’t realize this.

Mary is the member of the family who seems most spiritually attuned. Her actions demonstrate faith, sacrifice and humility. Presumably she bought the ointment in the first place. And in the previous story regarding this family, Jesus raised the brother Lazarus from the dead. So it’s likely that in gratitude, no expense was too much to show appreciation. And Mary acted out of instinct and love. She was making a way to Jesus, even though she may not have realized the full import of those actions. And later that week, God would be making the ultimate way to humanity through his actions.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul gives a lesson in humility. He lists his very impressive resume for the church in Philippi. He was born in the right family, attended the best schools, held high positions in the synagogue and society -implying that it was higher than theirs - and clearly told them that all that means nothing at the end of the day. He says, “I regard all that as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him...”

We can let ourselves get in the way that we try to prepare for God. Our own resumes or backgrounds or accomplishments can be very beneficial in terms of the service that we offer. Like Mary, offer to God our best. But those same aspects of ourselves can get in our way if we treat them as measuring sticks as to why we are better than others or deserve more. That can also work in reverse. Because of disadvantages, setbacks or past hurts, we may feel deserving of better. That also might get in our way. Anything that blocks us from working in God’s service to bring mercy and justice to God’s people works against us.

It’s the humility demonstrated by Mary and Paul in our lessons today that begin the way to God. God’s love comes to us regardless of the resume. Each of them defied the expectations and stations of their worlds to get to know Jesus better. They knew that their worth and esteem was rooted in God’s love more than anything else.

Jesus says something at the end of the lesson that has often been misused. He says, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This line has often been misused throughout history to justify callous behavior toward the cash and materially poor. But given the way the Gospels use words, the “poor” Jesus may be referring to, might very well be those who are poor in spirit, those who don’t know how to put aside the resume. That is, those who let them get in their way to God or God’s service.

Paul certainly used his credentials when it served his purpose. He claimed his Roman citizenship quite boldly and prominently when it was able to further his mission. He didn’t count it as rubbish then. But only when he used it as a measuring stick of his worth.

Regardless of our credentials, resumes and holdings, our value and worth before God is in our humanity alone. Accepting that calls out the humility in us and begins to prepare the way of God. Even as we start on the way, we come to see clearer as time goes on that God has already cleared the way for us. “I am about to do something new, “ Isaiah tells us God says, “Do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Whether out in the world or deep within us, those place that are tangled or parched have hope. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Reconciliation

2010-03-14T20:19:00.003-04:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Paul wrote to the Corinthians “...We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” It’s a heartfelt plea from someone who cared very much for them. He told them, “We have been given a ministry of reconciliation.”

Ah, but there’s a catch. Before we can embark on this wonderful ministry of reconciliation, we must first be reconciled ourselves. That was the Corinthians’ problem. They were so convinced of their own sacred status that they had fallen into a less than perfect lifestyle of proving themselves holier than the next member of their community. They were exclusionary, judgmental, elitist, and mean to one another. Paul, needless to say, was disappointed in them and wrote this letter to correct their behaviors.

Each of these readings refer to some who reached for something better and run into problems because either they weren’t ready or didn’t know what they were getting into.

In the lesson from Joshua, the Israelites had finally gotten into the Promised Land after wandering in the desert for forty years. By that point Moses has died and Joshua had taken his place in leadership. The painful memories of slavery in Egypt could recede as well as the long period of searching. Their new life was about to begin. The promised land they had worked so hard to enter was theirs. Or was it?

It seems the Promised Land was not delivered empty. It was a country that had been inhabited for many generations by people who were not convinced by Hebrew stories of God making a promise to a man they didn’t know who was long dead. The land that had been promised to the Israelites was inhabited by the Canaanites, and they had no intention of leaving. Some kind of accommodation needed to be made, some kind of peace and reconciliation between two peoples who inherited the land.

The Prodigal Son as we know it, is that famous parable of a young mans’ dreams of the good life and his impatient acts to get it. He blundered his way through reckless waste in the hope of finding his own promised land. He lost everything and hit bottom. The realization of his own foolishness sobered him up and he returned to his father’s house to face the consequences.

In each of these stories, as different as they are, there is the theme of reconciliation uniting them. The people of Israel had dreamed about the Promised land for such a long time that it became romanticized as the land flowing with milk and honey. Everything would be wonderful, very much a utopia. The younger son of the parable also hoped for a utopia. A young man with a windfall of new money sees the world as his oyster. Each were in for a rude awakening.

When we put the story from Joshua and the Gospel lesson side by side, the two peoples of Israel and Canaan could be compared with the two sons. The Canaanites stayed in the land while the Israelites left the land so long before for a better life, which they enjoyed for a while. That is, several generations before it all went bad and they became slaves in Egypt. Beaten down they came back home. The Canaanites, like the older brother in the parable were not happy about their return. As far as they were concerned all the land was theirs. They didn’t want to hear about any promise made to a hundred year old man a few hundred years ago, by a god they didn’t recognize. The tensions between the two groups festered for many years without being fully resolved. There was no parent to mediate as there is in the Gospel lesson.

One of the ways we can read Bible stories is to put ourselves in the place of one or more of the characters. In the parable of the Prodigal Son, who do you identify with, given some of the issues in your life? The younger son who wanted to get away from the world he knew and stretch his legs to find his promised land? The older son who remains responsible and stays at the work and then resents the return of the younger son? The parent who mediates the factions? Or the fatted calf who feels like an innocent bystander caught up in a family drama that’s not going to end well for him no matter who celebrates?

Reconciliation isn’t easy. Reconciliation with ourselves, reconciliation with others and reconciliation with God. I’ve always liked the phrase in the parable that says of the younger son in the pit of his remorse: when he came to himself... There was in him a moment of awakening when he realized his mistakes and wanted to turn around. He was fully spent in the pursuits of false dreams and the consequences of his actions reach a point of such pain that he could no longer stand it. He had to admit first to himself what he did that was wrong and then admit it to the person he wronged, in this case his father. When “he came to himself” he found the integrity in his spirit that had left him for a while during his misadventure. But he found it and tried to make things right again. He grew up. He was reconciled to himself first and then worked on being reconciled with his father. By the end of the story he found peace and a reconciliation he never thought possible. Oddly, the older brother has not shared in the reconciliation, with himself, his brother or his father. He remains judgmental, angry and separated from the festivities. Until he realizes these defects in himself, until he’s reconciled to himself, he can’t be reconciled with anyone else. In this sense, he too is a prodigal son who has left and we hope returned, though the parable doesn’t say one way or the other.

In the stories of Lent, we’re given different lenses to look at ourselves and our relationships. Where have we made mistakes that we need to admit and be reconciled with ourselves? Where do we have the work to do of being reconciled with those we have harmed? Where have we stood in judgment of those trying to make amends, feeling self righteous or angry? I sometimes wonder if the older son was really envious of his younger brother for being more daring than he and risking big, even if it did blow up in his face? Regardless, there are times when we’ve all stood in those shoes as well. Even the older brother needed to “come to himself” and admit his wrongs to be reconciled with himself, in order to be reconciled to his family.

The gospel lesson begins with the tax collectors and sinners (other translations read prostitutes) listening to Jesus; while the Pharisees observed this grumbling in judgment. These groups also like the younger and older sons were in need of reconciliation with themselves and each other. The father was delighted at the return of the younger son and all was clearly forgiven. God takes pleasure in reconciliation, not punishment. People get caught up in wanting punishment. In this parable Jesus sets up a paradigm of radical forgiveness in a way that people, through the eyes of the older brother think is unjust. Yet how wonderful it is to know that’s how God is.

Think about this parable in the days ahead and consider the brothers and how you relate to them. Or as Paul says, “God...has given us a ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them...so we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Believing in God's Promise

2010-02-28T12:00:00.008-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The first lesson today from Genesis tells an old story. Not quite in the beginning, but close to it. The central figure in this story is Abram. Shortly after this story his name would be changed and he would come to be known as Abraham. But at this point, he’s still Abram. Genesis has described several conversations between God and Abram up to this point, and in each one God has promised Abram that he would make a great nation of his descendants. Apparently Abram was getting tired of this promise since both he and the reader at this point are aware that Abram is in his late seventies and his wife Sarai is not far behind in years and they had no children.

God seems oblivious to this fact as the promises continue, but Abram is annoyed. Finally Abram calls out and says “What will you give me, because I am childless and the only heir I have is my servant Eliezer.” But then an amazing sight is described that is in fact a ritual of covenant between God and Abram. In the offering of animals and the mysterious appearance of a smoking pot that passes between them, a deal is made. God formalizes the promise and just beyond the lesson we read, a prediction is made that foretells the descendants of Abram leaving that land, being enslaved in Egypt and then returning. The deal God made with Abram was the promise of the land that would become the nation of Israel.

All of this because Abram was a righteous man, and God likes righteous people. Righteousness involves to trusting, and often waiting. By the end of his life, Abram had two sons, one by his wife’s servant Hagar named Ishmael, and one by his wife Sarah named Isaac. But he had faith that out of these children a mighty nation would come. He had this faith, because God had promised.

God’s promise is a theme that runs through the Bible constantly. Another theme is the difficulty people have in believing it, or at least having the patience to see them come to pass. In the Gospel lesson another promise is alluded to. Jesus responds to the Pharisees who warn him about Herod’s threats by invoking the words “third day”. Those words used in the body of the Gospels foreshadow the resurrection on the third day and the promise of God made to all believers through the resurrection.

The Bible is a book written many years after the stories they describe and the writers include elements of foreshadow to tie the themes together for the readers and show how God’s promises eventually come to pass. What distinguishes a righteous from an unrighteous person is the one who holds onto the faith in the promise and the one who doesn’t. The one who lives into the promise and the one who acts as though it doesn’t exist.

One of the strengths of the themes in these stories, the tireless patience of the writers, and the examples of the righteous people they depict, is that any reader can identify with them in their own difficulties and despite apparent obstacles, believe that God’s promise will come true and always comes true.

During this February observance of Black History month among other events and activities, there have been pictures on the bulletin covers of contemporary African American religious leaders. On the cover today is a picture of The Rev. Peter Gomes, professor of Christian Morals at Harvard University and Chaplain of Harvard’s Memorial Church. He’s an American Baptist minister and among his many books is one that became a best seller in 1996 called The Good Book. In it he describes how the Bible has been used as a weapon throughout history against Jews, women, homosexuals and usually any kind of change and progressive justice. His new book, called The Scandalous Gospel is a discussion of the radical nature of the Christian faith that most contemporary Christians would find, well, scandalous. He argues that true Christian values have been left behind and replaced with harsh, judgmental, narrowly focused and self serving ideologies. Actual Christian love, as Jesus lived and taught it, is far more inclusive and caring than today’s Christians would recognize.

As a man of faith, a gay man, an African-American man, a professor and prophetic voice in America and the world today, Rev. Gomes also speaks of the promise of God, it’s obstacles in societies, and yet its endurance and ultimate victory.

It’s hard to tell people to wait. It’s harder to be a person who does wait. The people in Haiti must wait. Their ordeal will end, but not for a long time. Now the people of Chile, as well as the people of the Middle East and Africa, and even in America. The promise of God reaches individuals and nations, but sometimes it seems excruciatingly slow or at worst forgotten.

One of the major tensions for us to balance what must wait with what can change now. Sometimes being told to wait is simply an effort to put off changing what is wrong. Dr. King’s famous statement that justice delayed is justice denied argues against the obstacle of waiting. How long were African Americans told to wait, that “now is not the right time”. Similar statements are being made today with marriage equality and even health care. In the end, waiting and stalling are not the same and we need to be careful about mistaking one for the other.

Jesus refers to prophets being killed in Jerusalem. Jerusalem is an important image since it is the capital of Israel, the very heart of the country, and the tangible symbol of God’s true promise to make them a nation. And yet in the midst of this promise, suffering and division has always been present. There is bitter grief in Jesus saying how he would gather them all like a hen gathers her chick if they would but listen.

How many problems and issues in the world that bring suffering would be solved if people would listen to the love of God and extend that loving hand. How simple it seems for the love of God to gather people, and yet we would not.

The collect we opened the service with for this second Sunday of Lent asks God to “...be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ, your son.”

It’s easy to get overwhelmed with need and injustice in the world. It’s easy to walk away and say nothing can be done. But at the very least, awareness is something. Awareness leads to prayer and prayer leads to action. When we are called in extraordinary circumstances to show God’s love, we do. The generosity and outpouring of prayer and goodwill flows to various people in times of need. Our challenge is to embrace people in the ordinary times as well. We’ve demonstrated this many times in responding to disaster relief, to homelessness, and to people in need in our own parish. It’s all part of the unfolding promise of God.

But the promise of God does not only flow out to others. The promise of God is to us too. Abram was a simple man who heard the promise of God in a vision and believed it. He didn’t see its fullness, but his faith in it determined how he lived his life. He did not live as someone who felt beaten and betrayed by a promise not kept, but as someone who lives in the expectation and joy of a promise not yet fulfilled.

How each of us approaches our lives is really up to us. We can live in dread of inevitable disaster, or in optimistic hope of inevitable victory. The Scandal of the Gospel, found in the Good Book is a profound belief in the promise of God and the unshakable quest to embrace it. The promise of Jesus is a life of fullness and eternal life.

God showed Abram the sky and told him to count the stars if he could. That same number would be the number of his descendants. For a seventy something year old man without any children, that must have seemed pretty far fetched. But he believed even when the promise seemed absurd. And it filled his life with joy and expectation. God’s promise of love, inclusion and justice sometimes seems equally far reaching and absurd, and yet it’s what informs our lives. We can live in the joy and expectation of God’s promise unfolding. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Lent

2010-02-21T12:00:00.007-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Our service today is vastly different from the one we had last week. For those who were not here last week, we broke from our traditional liturgy and had a Mardi Gras feel. Richard Berggren and some of his musical associates put together a jazz ensemble and arranged hymns, service music and anthems with toe tapping energy. Vanessa Aiken, who has provided us with beautiful liturgical dancing several times in the past, shared her gifts again with us from the opening song “When the Saints Com Marching In” as she danced down the aisle to various other pieces during the service. Dean Kravitz played jazz arrangements of hymns during Communion, and one of my friends named Kenny Ford, who sang an anthem at my 25th anniversary service last month, was invited to return, to sing another one.

Mary Davis was invited back to preach for us and did her usual outstanding work. And then the coffee hour afterward. “Coffee Hour” is a rather humble name for the feast that was prepared by the Absalom Jones Committee. The mood was high and the music wonderful. All in all, my Lord what a morning.

Today’s service couldn’t be more different in style. We have entered into the season of Lent the past Wednesday, Ash Wednesday. It’s far more somber and serious. Mardi Gras all over the world are a last hurrah for the faithful who enter this wonderful season of Lent. For many, Mardi Gras is just one more party, but to Christians it’s a joyous conclusion to the Christmas season and a transition to a time of preparation for the Easter season. The church also goes from celebration to celebration, but we divide them with seasons that help us to get ready. In this case, Lent is the season that prepares us for Easter. It’s a time to slow down and think about the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross and the promise of resurrection made on that first Easter day.

Well, slowing down is the first problem. Who can do that? Our fast paced world and culture of exhaustion have no intention of slowing down. If anything, the pressure is always there to move faster. And we do move faster to the point where we begin to think that exhaustion is normal. We’ve lost the skill of slowing down. After our most recent snow storm I heard so many people talk about how wonderful it was to be home form school or work, only to be bored by day's end not being able to get out and about as usual.

We don’t know how to slow down and we come face to face with the realization that even taking things slow is a skill that needs to be developed. The season of Lent is a silent appeal to do just that. Develop the skill of slowing down. Do this by increasing the time we spend in prayer or meditation. (I’ll take a moment to brag about the Confirmation Class. When we start the year with new students the first thing I do with them after the preliminaries is to teach them to meditate. They look at me in the way Middle School youth look at adults when they’re sure we’ve lost our minds. We begin with an explanation of what meditation is, a time to still the wild random thoughts and become centered. I time them and say we’ll go as long as we can before someone starts giggling. The first class is usually about 8 seconds. But over the weeks and months we’ve gotten up as high as 10 minutes. For ten youth, that’s pretty good.) It’s a skill I encourage everyone to work on.

Lent is also a time of self reflection. Each of us has things in our lives that we are embarrassed, sorry, or even ashamed about. There are things we would like to improve. One of the consequences of meditation is that these things generally rise to the surface of our consciousness demanding attention. People generally have ways to cope with these invasions to our consciousness - we stay busy, turn on the TV or music or just keep talking. Silence is often threatening because it means that what we don’t want to look at is right there in front of us. While we can certainly address these things all year long, Lent is a time to give particular attention to the practice of silence, allowing these thoughts to emerge and deal with them sacramentally. “Confession” is a word that strikes fear in the hearts of many who grew up under a stricter model than the Episcopal Church offers. We have the General Confession as part of our weekly service, but we also have private confessions available by appointment. This comes as a surprise to many, but I assure you it’s true. We don’t use little booths for confession, we hold them in more comfortable manner, such as in an office. Still, confession and pastoral conversations are ways to address some of the issues that surface during our meditations, issues that can reach anywhere from slight embarrassment to perhaps making us feel unloved or unworthy of the love of God. And sometimes the issues are not of a negative nature, but calls of discernment. Sometimes there are goals or projects or even life changes that are exciting and scary and silence brings them up too.

I encourage you to take advantage of this Lent to slow down, meditate and pray, and seek the pastoral conversation of your clergy or even a close friend. If you would like to discuss confession, Chris and I will be happy to do so.

The seriousness of the tone of today’s service is intentional to convey the seriousness of the work that self reflection is. It’s not intended to accuse or punish, but identify and heal. Too long has the church taken on the role of punisher and not enough time as healer. Much of the ministry in St. George’s is focused on healing and the opportunity for prayer, meditation, confession, and pastoral conversation are forms of it.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus is in the desert. The story takes place right at the beginning of his ministry after he was baptized by John in the Jordan River. Through Baptism and the words heard form heaven by God calling him his beloved son in whom he was well pleased, Jesus takes a time of silence for forty days. What wells up in him are the temptations to abuse his newly formed ministry. For personal gain, power, or aggrandizement. He could have had it all. But it would have been at the sacrifice of his mission to bring the people of God back into relationship with God. Through his prayer and mediation he confronted each of the temptations and stayed true to his call. I always remark on the closing line of this passage, “When the Devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.” Temptations don’t go away, they wait for an opportune time. Even for Jesus.

As part of Black History Month, the Absalom Jones Committee has been sponsoring a film series on Friday nights. This coming Friday the movie is “Crash,” an amazing story that addresses many shades of racism and prejudice. It will be followed up on Sunday with a discussion forum highlighting some of the themes raised in the movie. This past Friday we watched “Pray the Devil Back to Hell.” It’s a documentary about the Women’s Peace Movement in Liberia that led to the exile of President Charles Taylor. It’s a stunning example of a leader who succumbs to each of the temptations Jesus faced in the desert, and turned an opportunity to serve his country into a nightmare of unspeakable cruelty and terror. It is an equally stunning example of the power of prayer and a commitment to peace to overcome it. The women in Liberia and eventually Ghana were fed up, and refused to tolerate the abuses they received – the killings, rapes, looting and continual terror and deprivation they were subjected to as a nation and gathered in prayer and grew in numbers and influence until they forced concessions that led to peace. They were not interested in satisfying greed, a need for power or grandiosity. They wanted peace for the country and safety for their children and themselves. One of the moving interviews was of a woman who told how hard it was to forgive the soldiers who acted so cruelly. But she came to the conclusion that despite how difficult it was, it was necessary if she and the country were to heal. That is an example of praying the Devil back to hell.

The three temptations Jesus faced in the desert are fundamentally the same that anyone faces. Material things, power or control, or manipulating how we are seen or treated by others. There’s not much new under the sun, and there’s no such thing as an original sin, it’s all been done before. But the temptations to do things, and the actual acting out and doing things that harm others or ourselves are very real.

The traditions we bring back today, specifically the singing of the Great Litany and the choice of hymns and other music, stand in stark contrast to the high celebration of last week. Joy can be very surface and actually a mask for what lay beneath. Taking the time to do some soul searching and soul finding, gives reason for real celebration. It’s definitely fun to have a party, but a real celebration comes after a journey. A journey in which obstacles have been overcome, growth has happened and healing has occurred. I invite you to take Lent seriously and see it not as an antiquated season of the Church year, but an opportunity for real growth and healing. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Going Deeper

2010-02-07T12:00:00.014-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Last week we read lessons of the call of Jeremiah, and the early start of Jesus’ ministry. The lessons this week continue the themes of God’s call, this time to Isaiah and Jesus’ call to Peter and Andrew.

The first lesson from the book of Isaiah is a very familiar one to priests. It’s a favorite lesson to be read at ordinations and I guarantee that all you have to do to bring a smile to any priest is say the opening line of the 6th chapter of Isaiah, “In the year that King Uzziah died....”

Because what unfolds is the wonderful vision of Isaiah of God’s heavenly throne, the ambivalence of Isaiah about his worthiness to preach, his acceptance of the call when God asks, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And Isaiah says, “Here am I, send me.”

It’s a powerful lesson and in the ordination services it concludes there with the heartwarming conviction of the new prophet to bring God’s word to the people. For new priests this vision and conviction is a powerful inspiration.

And while the ordination lesson ends with Isaiah accepting the call, our lesson today does not. I must say it’s a very strange message that Isaiah is to deliver. “Keep listening but do not comprehend, keep looking, but do not understand. Make the mind of this people dull and stop their ears, so that they many not ... turn and be healed.”

As though that were not bad enough, it gets worse. Isaiah wants to know how long this is supposed to go on and God tells him, O not long, only until “the cities lie in waste without inhabitant...and the land is utterly desolate.”

Well, that’s not a message I’d like to bring! Remember last week, I was wondering what I might say up here that might get me in the same predicament that Jesus got in with his first sermon; the one for which his shocked congregation wanted to throw him over the cliff. That might do it. That, or as I learned, making fun of the Super Bowl. There are some things we get very touchy about. And the next thing you know, it’s over the cliff with you.

Well, before we get too bothered by Isaiah’s message and God’s seeming lack of concern for the people, there is a bit of Hebrew theology I would hasten to remind us all about. And a hint about Bible study. The words were all written well after the fact. They are not transcripts of actual conversations. They were written in a way that interprets history. By the time the book of Isaiah was written many battles and wars had been fought. The land became desolate and without inhabitants. Isaiah’s warning’s had, in fact, fallen upon deaf ears at important times. He was part of the King’s inner circle of advisers, but the King didn’t always listen, and he made some tragic decisions.

By the time the book was written, it definitely seemed as though the people heard Isaiah, but didn’t comprehend; and looked, but didn’t understand. They ears were stopped, and their eyes were shut, and they did not turn.

The key to the passage we read this morning is in the last phrase, talking about a stump that remains after the tree is felled. The phrase is this: The holy seed is its stump. The seed is hope in the time of desolation. When willful people get into trouble, whether individually or as a nation, there is always a seed of hope that remains. In the midst of the turmoil of his day, Isaiah planted that seed, and his words gave comfort not only to the original people of Israel that heard it, but every generation that’s heard it since.

The people of Haiti have experienced desolation beyond description, and their major city is not inhabited as it was just a few weeks ago. There is a lot of hope they can cling to with the international aid they are getting and there is always hope that this crisis will inspire necessary changes in their government and the way they do business. Our own economic crisis has caused desolation in the financial topography of this country and the ripple effects felt around the world. Ears that were stopped, eyes that were shut; and the open question with all our crisis, “How long, O Lord?”

In the New Testament stories about Jesus’ healing, the word “Immediately” is often used. That word is not used in the stories of the Old Testament where healing takes a long time. Seeds take a while to grow. And the seeds of hope that are planted in our current crisis will grow, but not quickly. It’s an unpopular message, but one that still needs to get out there. “Whom shall God send, and who will go for us?”

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus meets Peter and Andrew for the first time and invites them to join him. In a fairly comical image, the carpenter is telling the fishermen how to do their work. “Go out a little further, you’ll be fine.” Of course, they do and like fish, Peter and Andrew are hooked. And this story becomes a parable for making disciples, for being fishers of people.

The key to this story, I think, is in Jesus’ direction for them to go deeper. In the language of story, Peter and Andrew had to follow the directions of someone they didn’t know and be willing to try something different. They needed to move away from the relative security of being close to shore and let down their nets deeper than they had before. They were amazed at the results.

This story becomes a model for us about how we get out any message about God. Believing Jesus, whether we know him well or not, moving away from that which is comfortable and being willing to go deeper. Peter and Andrew were transformed by this event, and so were those who eventually listened to them.

When we follow this model we can be amazed. Going deeper involves going into deeper truths. Sometimes gently, sometimes persistently, going deeper enters the place where hidden hurts, fears and anger live. It’s the place that is often too painful to recall or visit, but often the place that needs the most healing. It’s in the deepest parts of our being that we meet Jesus and where the healing we so desperately need can occur.

We have healing prayers as part of this service as well as the Wednesday night services. For those who want to go deeper, they can share with the intercessor a deep cause of pain or concern. Whether it’s physical, spiritual or emotional the very act of bringing to the surface that which is deepest in our troubled spirits and verbalizing it to another person for the purpose of prayer, is itself a healing action. Once our concerns are in the form of prayer a seed is planted that will grow into hope and healing.

It means leaving behind the safety of a familiar shore. Silence is for many a familiar shore, or hiding or subtle lying, or denial. Jesus invites us to leave the familiar shore and drop the net deeper. That’s where the real work is and the real opportunity for growth and health. The value of these biblical stories is in the spiritual truths we can gather from them and apply to our lives and circumstances.

February is Black History month. Our parish has a group called the Absalom Jones Committee (named for the first African American priest in the Episcopal Church), and this group has planned several events during the course of the month which are listed in the bulletin. Racial divisions in this country and around the world remain a painful and persistent illness in our human psyche and every day experience. Part of the value of having a month set aside for Black History is to drop the net of our attention deeper into the experiences of our African and African American brothers and sisters and those of European background as well. Racism is an illness that impacts people of color but truly infects white people around the world. For just as a history of oppression needs to be told by those who have felt its dehumanizing pain, there is a similar history of those whose inhuman actions have caused another form of spiritual disease. Slaves and slave masters were both dehumanized by the scourge of slavery. Prejudice today injures the targets of it as well as those who perpetrate acts of prejudice. Telling the stories of history raises to the surface the pain that needs to be told, and allow the healing to happen. Pretending racism and prejudice doesn’t exist is a form of denial that actually perpetuates it.

But it’s also a time of pride in telling stories of accomplishment that have not been widely told. There is a rich history of diversity that is not shared very well and dropping the net deeper catches some of those wonderful moments in history, and some of the wonderful things happening today.

As the month goes on and the events and forums happen, it’s our hope that as brothers and sisters in this community we can hear each others stories, reflect on the depth of pain and the possibility of healing. And also share joy in the stories of triumph and accomplishment. We can push out from the safety of familiar shores and drop the net deep into the waters of truth. We can do this because Jesus has invited us to do so.

Healing is transforming and it fans out from the one healed to the ones who need healing who will be drawn to it. The disciples discovered this, and so did the people of Israel so many years ago who first heard Isaiah plant his seed of hope. The healing of racism will not be immediate, but with God’s help the tree of righteousness will grow. The crisis that we face in our world and in our lives will not heal immediately, but with God’s help the healing that we need will grow. It’s so important that we embrace the truth of God’s invitation and whether we feel we’re worthy or not, realize that God calls us as we are to share in this work. To embrace and to share the love of God. Whom shall we send, and who will go for us. Here am I, send me. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

"Before I formed you in the womb, I appointed you."

2010-01-31T14:35:00.028-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Jeremiah tried to get out of it. The word of the Lord came to him quite clearly and gave him a vision of the ministry to which he had been called. Not only called, but created for. "Before I formed you in the womb, I appointed you a prophet to the nations..." It was really a foregone conclusion, but Jeremiah did give it his best shot. "Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak for I am only a boy."

God wasn’t falling for that and had no intention of letting Jeremiah off the hook. "To whom I send you, you will go." And he went, and did what he was made to do. Jeremiah had a difficult ministry of being a prophet. He had to say many unpopular things and often got into trouble for holding the leadership of his day accountable for the problems they were facing. He would chastise the leaders, sometimes the people, but when things got really bad, he would give them hope as well.

During the State of the Union address by the President last Wednesday, there was a bit of the Jeremiah story being acted out. Many of the struggles we’re having today in terms of the economy and wars were long in the making, and there is collective responsibility for a generation of bad decisions. But in the address there were bold statements aimed at clearing up the smoke and mirrors of blame and inaction. At this point blame for the past serves no purpose, but direction and responsibility will serve us well.

For those of Jeremiah’s time, the leaders and people did not heed his words and suffered an even greater fate. When even the worst of his warnings came to pass, Jeremiah changed to words of hope. Prophets do not only give predictions of doom, they give words of inspiration and hope and in the times of deepest pain. They remind us that God is still near, and that despite the messes we can get ourselves into, the love of God, finding root in our hearts and actions can bring a turn around.

I’ve often heard it said that if you’re feeling down about your struggles and get stuck in self pitying, help another person. It’s the best medicine for anger or depression. Perhaps that’s why the world has responded so quickly and generously to the people of Haiti. No prophet could have predicted that earthquake, but it is a prophetic voice which rallies hope. The world has shown an amazing degree of compassion and good will. Similar to that shown when the Tsunami hit or when the Twin Towers fell, or Hurricane Katrina destroyed so much. The voice of the prophet says we will not be defeated, and that with God’s help we will be restored.

That’s what happened to the people of Israel. That’s what is happening to the places around the world in their periods of devastation. It won’t happen quickly, but it will happen.

Jeremiah did the work he was called to do. He didn’t choose it, but he accepted it because he was uniquely able to give the message he gave.

I often admire, if not envy Jeremiah in this passage. I do not envy the task he was given, mind you. I envy the clarity with which he received his call. It would be very nice to hear God’s voice clearly tell me what I was formed in the womb to do. At some times in my life it’s felt like I was stumbling in the dark, making decisions and second guessing them almost immediately. In hindsight they seemed to be just the right ones - mostly. A few I could have done without, but on the whole I think I heard God’s call and responded.

Sometimes I feel a call to do something and in my prayer tell God all the reasons I can’t do them. I can no longer say I’m too young, but now I can perhaps say I’m too old. But then Abraham got his call when he was 100 years old, so that won’t work. God plays by different rules. God does call us to do what we were born to do and while that may not always be crystal clear, there are certain aspects that cannot be denied. We are called to love one another. To be fair. To help and at the very least, not to hurt. We are called to be good, to be just, to live in humility. After that our own interests and passions will fill in the gaps, but essentially we are called to be in relationship with each other consistent with the love of God.

In the Gospel lesson Jesus begins his ministry on a tough note. In the 4th chapter of Luke that we read Jesus is making his first teaching appearance in his home synagogue. Everyone is pleased and waiting to hear nice things. It’s the same way we at St. George’s felt when Chris Carroll, Chris McCloud, Debbie Venezia, Bill Albinger, Margie Tuttle and Bambie Koeniger all took to this pulpit for the first time after being sponsored for ordination. For those of you who were present for those occasions, remember the pride we felt as each ascended these steps. The anticipation of their first sermons and how happy we all expected to be. The same is true, I suspect, for Jesus and the good people of his synagogue. Well, unlike each of our ordinands who did stellar jobs in the pulpit, Jesus blew it. He came across a bit arrogant and so offended the people that they took him to a cliff to throw him off. Now that’s bad. But he said what was on his mind and he never stopped. He still hasn’t, he still says things in times of our prayer that make us uncomfortable. But God’s call isn’t always warm and fuzzy. It’s more often uncomfortable, inconvenient, and seemingly impossible. There are many reasons not to accept God’s call and yet when we do, we are amazed by the results. God calls us to extraordinary ministry and stays with us.

This weekend held the annual convention of the Diocese of Newark. For those of you who are not very familiar with the Episcopal Church, the American Episcopal Church is divided into regions often along state boundaries into segments called Dioceses. The state of New Jersey was originally one Diocese called the Diocese of New Jersey, but when it got administratively too large by the number of churches, it was necessary to divide it. The top third of the state became the Diocese of Newark. We have in this Diocese 108 churches and like all the other American Dioceses we gather once a year to share our common vision for the ministry we believe God is calling us into. While churches operate individually, we also share resources and programs and support the ministry of the Bishop. At convention we debate and vote on resolutions that speak of the values and goals that we can work on together.

The Convention began on Friday with a Eucharist in the newly refurbished Trinity and St. Philip’s Cathedral on Broad Street. The preacher for that day was the Bishop of our neighboring Diocese of New Jersey, Bishop George Councell, who set a wonderful tone with stories and images of faith. The business of the convention was to vote on resolutions which cover contemporary issues of justice, administrative needs of our Diocese, the Budget, and electing people to serve on Diocesan boards and committees.

St. George’s, I’m proud to say, is well represented on the Diocesan level by Michael Francaviglia as Diocesan Administrator, Diane Sammons as Chancellor, Nina Nicholson as Communications Officer and Martha Gardner as representative to Jubilee ministries. We also have several others who serve on committees.

Bishop Beckwith has framed our conversations using four core values that were identified in years past as Worship, Spiritual Formation, Justice/Non-Violence, and Radical Hospitality. These core values led to the creation of a mission statement for the Diocese which is "Equipping congregations, Empowering people, Engaging the world, with the hope and Justice of Jesus."

We heard a lot of reports and debated various issues. The Diocesan website will cover these in detail, but suffice it to say the roughly 500 people gathered at the Robert Treat Hotel for this convention - clergy and elected delegates from each church - take their call seriously to work together in ministry. We are know nationally as a progressive Diocese among some and a radical Diocese by others. We have long led the nation in debates of women’s ordination and human sexuality to where now as much of the country gets combatant about these issues, we shrug as though they are non-issues. After all we debated them 20 years ago and have lived into a ministry others see as radical. To us it seems normal. We now have resolutions looking at issues like human trafficking - virtual and actual slavery in countries including the US where mostly women are kept against their will for slave labor or sex. We voted to study this more and raise awareness to this horrible practice, as well as looking at what’s called the "stained glass ceiling" in disparities among salaries and limitations faced by women clergy. We heard many reports requested by past conventions, including one by Episcopal Relief and Development which does so much to aid disaster victims around the world and now focusing on Haiti. (Martha Gardner will be leading a forum on this very subject after church today in the parish hall.)

The need we face in this world can be overwhelming and crushing. For those with out faith, they can only fall into despair and paralysis. As Christians and people of faith, we believe that God is bigger than any of the problems we face and that together we can transcend them and bring God’s love and hope into a world that sorely needs it. We are made and designed to do just that. From the womb each of us is called to enter the world as God’s unique messengers delivering God’s word in ways that only we can. Like Jeremiah we may demure, and like Jesus we may get in trouble for it, but we have to. For to whom God sends us we will go. Sooner or later, we will go.

In Paul’s famous letter to the Corinthians he describes love as being patient and kind, not envious or boastful and rejoices in the truth. We don’t always see clearly now, but someday we will and in the end, after all is said and done, there will be three things - faith hope and love, the greatest of which is love.

It’s that love we embrace for ourselves, that love we bring to each other, and that love that heals a broken world one person at a time. We are not too young or too old to respond to the call to love. We are called just as we are, wherever we are to carry God’s message of love. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

What Would Martin Say?

2010-01-17T19:21:00.000-05:00

By Aleeda Crawley

On my first trip abroad, I met a Hungarian woman, Marta, in Paris; she and I continued to correspond for many years, and finally I persuaded my travel buddy Michelle to take a trip with me to Budapest. Marta spoke very little English, and I spoke very little French, and no Hungarian. Over the years, her husband translated my letters for her, and Michelle and I, having misunderstood a dinner invitation joined them for our second dinner one evening. We talked about the U.S., and the flow of many East Germans into Budapest, anticipating the fall of the Berlin wall. Over dessert her husband leaned back and said, “So, you are from Harlem? As it turned out, neither Michelle I lived in Harlem at the time, and we explained that all black Americans did not live in Harlem. We still laugh about t hat evening to this day. Stereotypes make it easy to understand the world, but they make for a humorous and sometimes dangerous shorthand.

I often see bracelets and bumper stickers with the letters WWJD, standing for What Would Jesus Do? In a lot in Maplewood Village, I’ve seen a strange twist on this question: Who would Jesus bomb? My question today is yet another version: what would Martin say? Here’s what Martin said: “the most segregated hour in America is 11 a.m. on Sunday morning.” In my personal experience, I would add to that any hour in barber shops, beauty salons, country clubs, board rooms. I don’t doubt that Dr. King would see this church as progress--seeing how far our nation has come, but I think he would be shocked at how far we still have to go. Maplewood/South Orange is one of only five communities in the U.S. where integration is visible on a block-to-block basis, and we are an anomaly in the fourth-most segregated state in the union. Within a few miles of this church there are marginalized citizens who do not have access to affordable housing, quality education, or basic healthcare. Within a few feet of my voice, there are friends who are denied the right to marry, which may seem frivolous to those of us whose partners are not denied insurance benefits, hospital visitations, or public displays of affection.

Dr. King is celebrated, and rightly so, as a civil rights leader. Unfortunately, so many people have characterized his work as being on behalf of African Americans, and this is a gross oversimplification. Dr. King was a human rights leader, speaking in favor of social justice for ALL people, and in favor of peaceful conflict resolution. He spoke of economic inequality, of a debilitating poverty that ultimately will impoverish everyone. The world seems so much more complex than it did 50 years ago. Still I looked at Dr. King’s words as I was preparing my homily, and believe that had he lived 3,000 years ago, like Isaiah, he would have been called a prophet. Today’s old Testament reading, with just a few changes, might have been spoken by him: For America's sake I will not keep silent, and for Washington’s sake I will not rest, until her vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch. If he were living today, he would be considered a visionary. His ideas are as powerful and valid now as they were to his audiences in the middle of the last century.

In a 1967 rally speech in Montgomery Dr. King asked the question: Are we really making any progress? He described three attitudes leading to different answers on the question. In it I saw that these attitudes haven’t changed, whether we are discussing race, or poverty, or human rights. The extreme optimist argues we’ve come a long, way, and society has just about solved these problems. The extreme pessimist says we’ve not seen meaningful progress; we’ve created more problems than we’ve solved because our flawed human nature cannot be changed. Dr. King concluded that both these arguments had one thing in common; they both led people to do nothing to change, one side because the work is done, the other because it cannot be completed.

Clarence Clark, a fellow parishioner, once told me that it was very strange coming to NYC from the south. In the south, the demarcation was clear; you knew where you could go, and where you would not be welcome. In NYC the lines were never so clearly drawn. I never understood, until I was older, why my parents resisted my frequent requests to “come on over” to Palisades Park as they invited us to do on those radio jingles. A post-civil rights era, young Yankee girl does not always recognize the slights of discrimination. As you get older, you notice awkward silences when you enter a room and NYC taxicabs passing you by in the evening. Martin said there is a third attitude, the realist: “The realist seeks to reconcile the truths of two opposites while avoiding the extremes of both.” The two conclusions are not mutually exclusive. Martin would say the realist understands we have come a long way since Clarence’s days in NYC but we still have some way to go in Aleeda’s time.

Dr. King stated that the realist, unlike the pessimist and the optimist had the responsibility to do something about righting a wrong. He said it many different ways: ‘Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.’, and ‘The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” A couple of years ago, I was asked to be on the nominating committee of an African American group I belonged to. We had chosen someone who was highly qualified for the office and was in every way just like her predecessors, with one exception: she was white. On the day of the election, another African American member not only asked the chosen candidate not to run for that office, but had the temerity to ask her to consider a lesser office. This member saw no wrong in doing this, but I was appalled, and left the group. I expressed my disappointment, asking if it was 1957 or 2007. The candidate, in her graciousness, did run for the lesser office, and was elected. I’m here to say today that racism is not dead, presidential elections notwithstanding, nor is discrimination limited to a particular group. I’ve heard it said that one type of discrimination is not the same as others. I’ve heard the bible quoted in support of some of these discriminations. Martin said: “In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” I remind all of these folks that the bible was used for hundreds of years to support the morality of slavery. Separate but equal is always more separate and less equal. Discrimination is immoral and unjust, and on this Martin was clear: ‘Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.’

We substituted today’s New Testament reading for the words of Dr. King, but part of today’s Epistle is truly appropriate for the celebration of Dr. King. 1 Corinthians says: Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. When I look out at you, I do not see black, white, Hispanic, Asian, straight, gay, Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Buddhist, agnostic, atheist, Democrat, Republican, young or old. I see mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters…friends. We are different, but the humanity that links us is more powerful than all the labels we use to divide us. More powerful than nationality, race or religion. More powerful than sexual orientation, gender or class.

In times of natural disaster, we look more like the world Dr. King would have wanted. We suspend our divisions and work together on a common task . The earthquake that struck Haiti this week brought me to tears. They were the same as the tears I shed when I watched the World Trade Towers collapse, when I saw the devastation of the tsunami in Asia, when I watched people waving for help from their rooftops in New Orleans. My horror turned to anger when hearing Pat Robertson condemn the victims as receiving a punishment they deserve. How wonderfully convenient to see the world as sinner and saved. Pat Robertson does not speak for me or my God, does not reflect my kind of Christianity. I want to tell Pat Robertson that I believe Dr. King would be ashamed of him and his lack of compassion for the suffering of another human. I also believe that Martin would say: Put aside your anger. Pray for Pat Robertson. Do whatever you can to ease the suffering of the Haitian people.

This world unity soon fades, and we slowly slip back into our old –isms and phobias. I have often thought the only time when we will abandon our tendency to see differences in each other is when some powerful alien attacks Earth, determined to annihilate the human race. The alien won’t ask how you voted, what your nationality is, who you slept with or what God you worshiped. They will unfortunately possess the unity humans have abandoned.

Martin thought that Jesus’ most important lesson was "Love your enemies." He said: "There’s another reason why you should love your enemies, and that is because hate distorts the personality of the hater. We usually think of what hate does for the individual hated or the individuals hated or the groups hated. But it is even more tragic, it is even more ruinous and injurious to the individual who hates. You begin hating somebody, and you will begin to do irrational things. You can’t see straight when you hate. You can’t walk straight when you hate. You can’t stand upright. Your vision is distorted. There is nothing more tragic than to see an individual whose heart is filled with hate. If you hate your enemies, you have no way to redeem and to transform your enemies. If you love your enemies, you will discover that at the very root of love is the power of redemption."

Martin’s book Where do we Go from Here? Chaos or Community?, published posthumously, contains a powerful essay, The World House, in which he writes: “We have inherited a large house, a great "world house" in which we have to live together—black and white, Easterner and Westerner, Gentile and Jew, Catholic and Protestant, Moslem and Hindu—a family unduly separated in ideas, culture and interest, who, because we can never again live apart, must learn somehow to live with each other in peace.” He continues: “Over the bleached bones and jumbled residues of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words, too late." I hope it’s not too late for us and our children, and our children’s children. Sometimes, when hearing or seeing how creative mankind can be in its divisiveness man I fear that it is too late. I see dismissive labels and stereotypes that give people permission to denigrate, deny and defame the humanity of people seen as “other”. What sustains me is those glimmers of proof that may not be too late. My parents grew up in an America where they could not live, eat or shop where they chose; where they could not vote freely, where opportunities for higher education were limited, where their lives could be threatened for some imagined slight. My dad never lived to see an African American elected President of the United States. I could not have imagined peace in Ireland, or a post-apartheid South Africa in my lifetime. Who could have predicted that Iowa would offer their gay citizens the right to marry before we saw such legislation passed in NY or NJ? The Red Cross raised $9MM within 72 hours following the Haitian earthquake. We have, for the moment, turned swords into plowshares; the military forces of several countries are there helping the people of Haiti. The outreach of support and aid has been as rapid as the destruction. I could not have predicted it, but Dr. King wrote of such things: This call for a world-wide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one’s tribe, race, class and nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all men. This often misunderstood and misinterpreted concept has now become an absolute necessity for the survival of man.

We have a responsibility to love everyone, and ultimately to forsake the idea of enemies versus allies, of them versus us, of inferior versus superior, of any type of OTHER. We are one, connected not by those things which separate us, but the one thing that is within us all, no matter how scarred: our humanity. We simply cannot survive as a species if we continue to identify people as “other”. There is a Cherokee proverb: One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, "Which wolf wins?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed." To this I can only think Dr King would say: let the church say Amen.

© 2010 Aleeda Crawley

God has called you by name

2010-01-10T15:08:00.005-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

From the book of Isaiah we heard, "I have called you by name, you are mine." From the Gospel we heard the voice from Heaven, "You are my child, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased."

The church calendar we observe highlights different parts of Jesus’ life on different Sundays. Today of course, is the Baptism of Christ. Baptism is a way of belonging. It’s choosing a path that we want to walk, that we believe will lead us to God. Almost every group has a form of Baptism, though they may not call it that. There is an attraction to be part of a group. A time of testing or questions, a time of discovery if the group is indeed a match with the individual and a moment of decision in which questions are asked, promises made, and membership is extended. In Baptism, the medium of this process is water and spirit. It symbolizes a washing away of the past and a new beginning along a new path. In Christian baptism, we believe that Jesus showed us a way that is so compelling, that we want to devote our lives to it. We follow that path in different ways, with different amounts of intensity, but we are all given the same assurance in the love of God, "I have called you by name. You are mine."

Yesterday, I came into the church office early and saw part of the bulletin that wasn’t part of the bulletin I proofread. It was a wrap around notice of my 25th anniversary of ordination. I wasn’t sure I was supposed to see it or not, so after I saw the title, I set it down, but my curiosity got the better of me and I read it. Truthfully, I was trying to fly under the radar with this one. I’ve been celebrating so many things over the last few years that I didn’t want to go to the well once too often! I did, however take the liberty of selecting the hymns - most of which were from my ordination service. And I asked my friend Kenneth Ford to sing one of my favorite hymns as an anthem. And I bought my self something really nice, a vestment that I’ve been debating about for the last fifteen years. It’s a little extravagant, but it’s also very nice. I’ll show it to you and we’ll bless it later after we bless the icons. And there’s a special coffee hour that’s been arranged. So much for flying under the radar!

I felt called to be a priest while I was in High School. I kept it to myself, along with my other secret, because it was not a cool thing. And we always need to be cool. Unlike so many people I talk to, church was always a safe place for me. I did not grow up with a judgmental, angry, or passive aggressive church. It was loving and supporting. I believe children form their views of God based on their early church experiences, and so I have always felt the loving presence of God. That’s one of the reasons I feel it’s so important to provide the environment for our children here that I hope and believe we have.

But I felt that growing up and it was to church I went when struggling with the adolescent angst of being gay. Now, I didn’t tell anyone, but I sat with God in the silence of the church. Sometimes crying in fear for an unknown future, or confusion about why I was different, sometimes angry and in pain, because this was definitely not cool. But never once, in all my existential angst did I ever feel condemned by God, even while I feared it from all others. I had a sense of what Isaiah wrote, as though God was telling me, I have called you by name, you are mine. I often hear that preachers have one sermon they deliver in a thousand ways. If that is true, and I think it has a lot of truth in it, then mine is how much we are loved by God, no matter what. Church was my spiritual home, it was also where I knew everyone and they knew me. I loved being part of it and felt a call to be part of it in this way.

I was ordained 25 years ago this coming Tuesday in Grace Church in Newark. The hymns I selected then and today sang the words that continue to frame my prayer: Be thou my vision, which we just sang is, I know, is a favorite of many of yours as well. One coming up says Come my way, my truth my life, such a way as gives us breath, such a truth as ends all strife, such a life that killeth death. I was 27 years old and on my way.

Twenty five years is a long way to look back, even though it doesn’t seem to have taken that long to get here. As far as I know my journey, while similar in some ways to others, is unique. I’m the only one who has done all the things that I have done. That makes me unique. Just like every one else. We are all unique. All of us are the collection of the experiences that only we have had, and the lessons we’ve learned from them.

We’ve shared parts of the journey with others, but the whole of it is ours alone. For me there have been great stretches of joy and successes. There have also been plenty of stretches of pain, mistakes and sadness. I’ve come to value even the pain, since it has given me a strength I didn’t have before and a compassion that I’ve needed, even glimpses of humility - from a distance.

The nice thing about recollection and retrospective is that we begin to see how our lives seem to go in a direction, even when we don’t see it clearly. I believe our spirits are responding to a call.

It’s a call we’ve heard from our very beginnings. God has called us by name. And we struggle in our various ways to follow. The institutional church has been wonderful to some and yet done horrible damage to others who now reject the face of God those churches portrayed and yet I hope respond to God’s call by another path as part of their healing.

When I baptize a baby I look at the parents and say "Name this child." It’s a way of recognizing that they have been called by name, and that they are God’s forever. We pour the water over their sleeping or screaming heads and clean them up for the trip. It’s symbolic and important, and spiritually real. Our spirits embrace theirs as fellow travelers, and we welcome them to join us.

Jesus was baptized by John and he showed how much God wanted to become one with us, and show us the way. He was and is the light that shines a path of love and truth, of healing and warmth, of justice and inclusion.

Like John, we baptize with water, but Jesus has baptized us with the Holy Spirit and fire. A spirit to love and be loved and a fire that moves us forward. The baptism we enter is a life of commitment that we make to God, to ourselves and to our neighbors. We have an expression about pools - whether we’re dipping our toes in or diving in the deep end. And this too is a baptismal image. That’s how we enter our lives. Cautiously and testing or act first and ask questions later. Whatever our approach to the degree that we consciously live the commitments we make, God will infuse our good works with the Spirit of love and the fire or passion to see it through.

Next week we’ll honor Dr. King and take inspiration from the deep waters of his commitment and the spirit and fire with which God led him in the passion for Civil Rights. This past week I was among some of our members from St. George’s and hundreds of others in Trenton advocating for marriage equality. There was much spirit and fire there too, also for civil rights. The deeper we enter into our baptismal vows the deeper God meets us, and calls us even deeper. Whether it’s the causes we fight for or the relationships we develop God calls us ever deeper. And it’s not a general invitation. He calls us by name. We are His children, and He is well pleased. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Epiphany

2010-01-03T18:59:00.003-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Isaiah wrote, "Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you..." The light Isaiah is referring to is the grace of God, and an enlightening of the spirit of the people of Israel. He rhapsodizes about how people from all over the world will hear of the greatness of Israel and will come to see it for themselves.

He further writes, "Nations shall come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn...." What is it that might inspire people to come from all over the world and be amazed at the people of Israel? When Isaiah wrote this, other empires had risen and amazed people. Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia - these were names that inspired awe since they had risen to incredible military power, and each in their turn had influence that was felt and feared throughout the Middle Eastern region. When Isaiah wrote to the people of Israel, they were held in captivity by the Babylonians and could only dream of being a country so great themselves, that they would never again know fear themselves. Isaiah was holding out hope to them that the day would come, a day when , as he wrote, "you shall.. be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because of the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you."

This reading is particularly important today because of its reference to camels bringing tribute from afar that included gold and frankincense. It echoes in the gospel story of the Magi coming from afar bringing their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

The word "Epiphany" means "manifestation" in Greek. Its wider application in the Christian faith is to ways in which God’s love was manifested on Earth in the life of Jesus and in miracles he performed. Another definition of Epiphany might be "enlightenment." The feast of the Epiphany recalls the arrival of the Magi from far away, from the East, to find the new king. Matthew is the only Gospel that mentions the Magi and there has been a lot of speculation about them over the years - where in the East they came from, were they Jews from foreign places or priests of Zoroastrianism who studied astrology. Tradition gives them the names of Casper, Melchior and Balthasar, and in some writings has them representing the continents of Africa, Asia and even the far East in China.

The gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh reference the writing of Isaiah but also foreshadow the burial of Jesus. What we’re left with is a Biblical mystery that is a familiar and beloved story and a historical puzzle. The role of faith and Bible study is to enter this or any story spiritually and glean our own understandings, our own epiphanies.

What I see in the Magi are seekers. I admire people who leave their comfort zone to learn and discover more. It really doesn’t matter what the names or homelands of the Magi are, what really matters is that there was something so compelling that they had to go find it. If they came from different locations, they found each other in their search, people similarly interested and worked together to achieve their goal.

Spirituality, they were seeking God, and a new understanding of Him. In order to do that, they had to leave what they knew behind and venture into areas unknown to them. In a sense you can say we are all ruled by our limited understandings and views of God and the world.

We are raised in places with certain traditions, mores, customs and ways of approaching knowledge. Where we grew up informs our outlook as does our nationality, race, gender, sexual orientation, and so many other factors. Even if many of the same influences impact people, our brains work differently. Personality inventories have become very popular of the last couple decades. What used to be asking another person’s Zodiac sign, now might include asking someone’s Meyer’s Briggs type or more recently genotypes. It’s become important to document scientifically how we see the world differently. Never the less, when we’re used to seeing the world with our own lenses, it’s so hard to imagine seeing it in anyone else’s. Sometimes we describe people as "set in their ways" and this often applies to people who do not care to see the world differently or allow other views, ideas or beliefs in.

As such it’s so important to see the Magi as seekers who are open to a world beyond their own and leave behind one ruler for another. In the world if ideas and belief systems, old ideas do not go easily or willingly. When Herod, heard there was a new King around, became very concerned and wanted to eliminate it. Change is threatening and old orders want no part of it. But the Magi persisted and found their Epiphany. They brought their treasures, and set them before the baby Jesus. They returned home having made this discovery. We hear no more about them, but such a journey had to have made a profound impact on them and how they lived and saw the world.

It’s a wonderful story to unpack, with many layers of understanding and identification. The image of light is again important in this gospel story as it in so many. The star, a light brighter then the others draws the Magi. Jesus is the light of the world, the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Again, the love of God, the mystery of God and the promise of God draw people to newer understandings and insights about God.

A book that was very important to me some years ago is titled, Jesus through the Centuries. From Rabbi to King of Kings, to Divine and Human model, to Liberator to Cosmic Christ, the book chronicles how the understanding of Jesus changed over time and how it still does. For some, these changes are exciting, for others, they are disturbing. A lot of the conflict in religions today is based on competing ways in which we see not only Jesus, but the Divine from any tradition. New understandings often collide with older ones. The seeker has to weigh if changes are fads or deeper truths, thoughtful or capricious. It’s not easy, but the seeker enters uncomfortable places with eyes open.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul talks a little about his own Epiphany. Originally, Paul persecuted the Christian church. He oversaw the execution of Christians and made it his life’s work to eliminate the threat of Christianity to the pure faith of the Israelites into which he was born, raised and educated.

The book of Acts describes his conversion experience as receiving a vision of Jesus and scales falling from his eyes. He received a revelation and belief, changing his life and ultimately, the direction of the Christian church. He had to convince a skeptical group of Christians that his conversion was sincere, and he even pushed them to a new vision of the church that include Gentiles. The importance of the Magi being seen as non-Jews from afar coming to worship the Christ child references God’s openness to all people being drawn by the light of God. Another change that almost split the church. Another Epiphany.

This rich story of God being manifest in different ways that challenge even at the risk of discomfort is always timely. The love of God is the light that leads us to unknown places, and discoveries beyond our imaginations. Our church and state dealing with issues of equality and justice for gays and lesbians regarding ordination and marriage; national and international solutions to economic crises and fear of terrorism; or in the ways we live our own lives here at home - God calls us by the light of love to be ruled by a faith that grows and even changes.

As Christians, our faith grows and changes. In Sunday school we receive one concept and as we grow and experience the world differently, our understanding of Jesus will change. Sometimes there is a gap between one understanding and another and we panic as though we’ve lost faith. But those gaps are more often thresholds to deeper insights.

The obstacles encountered by the Magi are not unlike those faced by anyone who truly seeks deeper faith, knowledge, or insight. And like them, the journey is rewarded by a fresh, new outlook with the potential to grow and strengthen. In our relationships with God, whether our seeking finds God for the first time, or again after many times, it is led by the star or light, the grace of God drawing us deeper into the mystery and joy that is God. Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

A Voice of Truth

2009-12-13T12:00:00.009-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

John the Baptist knew how to grab his audience’s attention. "You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee the wrath to come?" This certainly isn’t the opening line of a stewardship sermon, but one has to admit that it’s an effective sound bite. It still works two thousand years later!

Last Monday during the rally for Marriage Equality in Trenton I joined several others from St. George’s and even more from the Diocese of Newark including our Bishop in support of the legislation to change the terminology of Civil Union to Marriage for same gender couples. Although I hadn’t been planning on it, I was brought in with a group of clergy around 7 pm that evening after a day of testimonies. The organizers wanted to make sure the Senators heard a balanced view from the wider church, which usually speaks out against marriage equality. So I took my turn at the microphone. Since I hadn’t been planning on speaking I hadn’t written anything down. I wonder how it would have gone over if I began my remarks with the same line that John used.

"You brood of vipers..." Like John’s audience, do you suppose they would have lined up and asked "What must we do?" I could have said, "If you voted ‘No’ in the past, vote ‘yes" now." And then those who had voted "yes" could have come forward and said, "And us, what should we do?" Sagely, I would instruct them them, that if they had voted "yes" in the past, to vote that way again and get the others to do likewise!

Meanwhile, back on Earth, I did tell them that when a couple comes to me for a marriage or Civil Union I’m aware that I’m accomplishing two things. The first is officiating over a legal contract authorized by the state. The second is that I’m blessing the commitment they make on behalf of the church. I told them further, that I really love weddings and Civil Unions and that just as I believe God is love and that the love of any couple reflects that, I bless each one equally in the name of God and for the community of faithful. I do my part on behalf of the church and I urge them to do their part on behalf of the state and guarantee that each couple is married equally. I’ve spoken before many church and religious bodies, but this was a first for me in speaking before a group of elected officials who have a far reaching authority. My knees were knocking but my voice was clear!

I do get charged up by the blatant and stubborn hypocrisy of those who think separate and equal actually works. Even the critters on Animal Farm know when some are more equal than others. I can understand and identify with the passion of John the Baptist shouting to those gathered at the Jordan River, You brood of vipers! And although I know it would have done little to nothing to serve my cause, it would have felt really good to do so.

One of the beauties of the Bible is that is speaks the language of the heart without having to temper it to subtle or political realities. John is a figure that embodies passionate and urgent zeal in matters of the soul. He cuts through pretense and says what many of us wish we could say in the different worlds in which we live. When we struggle with issues of justice, fairness or even excitement we’re often hobbled by restraint when we really want to shout out true feelings and beliefs. We want to be heard in the unvarnished truth of our convictions.

John is portrayed in scripture and art as a wildly dressed character in the wild terrain by the Jordan River. It should be remembered that he was the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah who were well placed in society. Zechariah was a high priest and that came with social position. Young John would have been brought up as a civilized young man. But what a wonderful depiction of someone swept up in the passion of their beliefs. There is an attractive wildness of a person of conviction who has found their voice and speaks their truth.

People gather and want to hear it. Even those who don’t necessarily believe it are drawn to the oratory. When John preached repentance the most unlikely people came out to listen. Tax collectors and soldiers. These are people feared and hated by most others because of the authority they had and the corrupt ways in which they lived which hurt innocent people. Yet they too came to John and asked "What must we do?" To the innocent bystander the answer seemed rather obvious. "Don’t hurt us, don’t steal from us, don’t terrorize us."

But ironically, the questions means that in this case the soldiers and tax collectors had lost their own moral compass to where even those easy answers were not visible.

All of us can get so carried away in our everyday lives, and all too often, drift in the moorings of authenticity and integrity that we lose sight of what is right. I believe that at heart each of us wants to be righteous and in a world that seems to be ambiguous with many shades of gray, it’s often difficult to find the right path. Sometimes, though it’s very plain, just difficult to do. Hearing a voice of truth cutting through the noise and urging us to do the right things is compelling, even when it might difficult to do them.

Equally important is finding our voice and tapping into the passion and conviction to risk going out of our comfort zone; to risk the negative reaction of others, if that happens, but to go out on a limb for what we believe.

This third Sunday of Advent has a special name and it’s related to why we light the rose colored candle. In Latin, the name of this week is Gaudate. The season of Advent was originally somber and penitential. It’s lost some of that quality in the midst of Christmas parties and shopping, but it was even referred to once and a Little Lent. Taken in that light, this week was set aside as one to be joyful in the midst of all the solemnity; a way of saying, "We’re almost there!"

Our reading from St. Paul’s epistle to the Philippians says "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice." Our passions generally flow from a truth deep within us that is related to our faith. It might be an articulated faith in God, but just as easily it might be an unarticulated faith in our deepest beliefs about justice and fairness. Whether the cause is marriage Equality, homelessness, hunger, or peace; perhaps art or music, passions tap into a deep sense of who we are and what gives us life. It’s in that place where we meet God the most. Advent is a time to give voice to our passions that prepare a way for God to live in us and inspire us to grow and expand beyond our comfort zones and break the boxes previously lived in.

Some people at the Jordan thought that John might be the Messiah, but he dissuaded that talk and said that he baptized with water, but hat one would come later who was more powerful, and who would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.

When we’re in touch with our passions, they burn inside us and give voice to our deepest selves. I know from personal experience that the deepest self is the most difficult to let out because it is the one most vulnerable. A comment that is heard so often is, "if they saw the real me, they wouldn’t like me." That’s fear speaking. It’s the deepest selves and most fiercely felt passions that make us our most interesting and compelling people.

John encourages us and Jesus lights the fire that makes justice and mercy burn within us. Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice. Let your gentleness be know to everyone. The Lord is near. And the peace of God which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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

"Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low"

2009-12-06T13:36:00.008-05:00

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel this morning we read that John the Baptist began his ministry of repentance in the region of Galilee. Those who heard of him recalled the writings of the Prophet Isaiah who spoke of a messenger crying in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord. To make the crooked ways straight and have the mountains and hills be made low. That all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

It was a wonderful prophecy and what excitement John must have generated to be associated with it. The place of this story in the Advent season is important since in the Gospels Jesus hadn’t yet made his appearance. The people were still waiting and hoping. John’s refreshing ministry was a sign to the faithful that something was about to happen. Some thought that John was the one they’re waiting for, but John discouraged that belief and pointed to one who was to come later. In the meantime, John preached repentance.

"Repentance" is a word that for me conjures up dire warnings of the end of world. Comic book characters wearing sandwich boards to induce groveling remorse for past ill deeds. As dramatically attractive as that can be, that’s not it’s real meaning. It literally means "to turn around." It means to change direction to one that is more positive and healthy. Such a change implies the recognition that the direction one was heading in was a mistake, but it means that the correction can be made and the new direction found. Repentance and the forgiveness of sins. That was John’s message as they waited for Jesus. One of the ways we know we might be traveling down the wrong road is that people get hurt by us. Part of turning around is to see where injury has been caused by us and seek forgiveness.

Last year at the Diocesan convention I saw a woman from one of my former parishes who was also a delegate. We had seen each other several times since my return to this Diocese, and our contact was characterized by the kind of formal courtesy reserved for people who are trying to make the best of running into someone they would rather not have run into. And the fault was mine.

An action I took as curate some twenty five years ago hurt her more deeply than I realized. For many years I wasn’t even aware of it. But once I became aware it, it was too embarrassing to confront, especially since so much time had passed and I wasn't even in the state any more. Coming to Maplewood and returning to this Diocese it was only a matter of time since we crossed paths and we did. At our last convention, when I saw her, I thought to myself that this has gone on long enough.

She agreed when I asked if I could talk to her and I told her I owed her a long overdue apology. The passage of twenty five years seemed to evaporate when talking about the incident. We discussed it, I offered an apology which she accepted. We had both made a mountain smooth and watched the elephant that stood between us leave the room. There is now warmth when we meet. And I wonder what took me so long.

The love of God enters when we make room. In the meantime, as I certainly discovered, ego and pride make mountains and valleys that are hard to negotiate. No matter how we may try not to make mistakes, it is impossible, the work is then to recognize where we have left the path of integrity and faithful relationship and try to get back on it. That’s repentance. And doing the work often takes asking forgiveness from someone.

A time honored phrase in the United States system of government is "separation of Church and State." Despite that description, they seem to bump into each other a lot!

Our Episcopal Church is dealing with an issue active in national and state politics as well. Namely gay and lesbian rights. New Jersey has a vote coming up this week whether or not to change the existing Civil Union terminology to Marriage as the legal status between same gender couples. We have many gay and lesbian couples in this parish for whom this is particularly important, and some of us who still have our Hope Chests packed! One of the hopes in that chest is that the term "marriage" will be available in that golden someday! We have a representative from the Garden State Equality group here today to discuss the issue more fully after the service. But suffice it to say the divisions in the church and state over this issue are as perplexing as they heart breaking. Equality is not a gift one group bestows upon another. It is a right that all share and should not be bartered, ignored, or blocked.

While we face the issue of marriage equality in this country, across the globe Uganda is putting forward legislation to make homosexuality a crime punishable by both imprisonment and execution. The mountainous level of cruelty and absurdity defies description. Even advocates for the rights of those so treated would be liable for prosecution. Recent atrocities of ethnic cleansing as well as the Holocaust stand as horrific witnesses of the ability of nations to distract the public from the substantial issues of poverty, hunger, homelessness, illiteracy, the abuse of women and children, political corruption and irresponsibility - and focus it on who is loving who as though it’s a crime.

From criminalizing homosexuality to denying human rights like marriage, the international community has made mountains out of mole hills. John the Baptist calls us to repent and take those mountains, and put them back into mole hills so that all people shall see the salvation of our God.

Yesterday morning the state of California made the news again. Rather, the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles. For the first time since the National Church lifted the moratorium on electing openly gay Bishops, a partnered Lesbian named Mary Glasspool was elected Bishop Suffragan. The mountains are going to shake.

Progress doesn’t come easily. History has shown time and again it comes in fits and starts and painfully. The scriptures often refer to progress arriving like a woman in the travail of childbirth. But in both cases, once it starts, there’s no going back!

Advent is a season of waiting. It’s a reminder that the love of God comes in wonderful ways and always in unexpected ways. There are so many issues that press upon us. National and international struggles, local and family struggles and challenges. We all have changes to make, obstacles to those changes, and yet the promise of grace as we work through them.

It does seem like a wilderness at times in which we have lost our way. The direction doesn’t always seem clear and we don’t always know when we’re right or wrong. The words of Isaiah and John the Baptist are comforting in that they say there is a voice in the wilderness to guide us. It says Prepare the way of the Lord. The way is prepared with love. The road is paved with justice. And we will eventually all see the salvation of our God, and discover that it’s been here all the time, because that’s what gives us the courage to fill the valleys and make the mountains low. Amen.

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

An Advent People

2009-11-29T14:12:00.004-05:00

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?

2009-11-08T13:41:00.013-05:00

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

2009-11-01T13:32:00.014-05:00

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

Healing of Bart

2009-10-25T19:26:00.005-04:00

By The Rev. Diane Riley

I am delighted to be here today and I want to thank Rev. Poppe and Martha Gardner for allowing me to come and preach and participate in a forum where I can share my work with you. I work for The Apostles House in Newark. This is a familiar entity no doubt to many of you especially long time members as St. Georges’. Twenty five years ago St. Georges in collaboration with four other churches was founded the Apostles’ House family shelter. Today we have many programs that serve the poor in Essex beyond the shelter, there is transition housing, continuum of care services for those moving on to independent living, a home for teenage mothers and their children where they can continue to go to school and learn how to raise strong children even as they are moving out of their own childhood. And of course our Food Pantry. I work program within our food pantry in an educational program that allows me to visit communities to raise the awareness of one of the most basic problems we encounter, the problem of hunger. We have one of the largest if not the largest food pantry in Essex. We served over 10,000 people last year. As you might guess the problem of hunger has been exacerbated by the economic crisis. We are very near to serving 10,000 people as of the end September and traditionally the last quarter of the year is when we serve the most people (almost 50% of those we served last year, were served in the fall). So thank you for all you have done and thank you for all you continue to do to help. You are our partners. Today as you walk you not only raise money for the hunger but you stand in solidarity and witness to those that are not always seen and helping others to “see” the problem of hunger. The work I do also allows me to help people “see” the not only the demand but to raise the awareness of the big picture and the actions that we can take to get at the root causes of hunger so that we can get to the point where we end the problem of food insecurity. A time when emergency food providers like our pantry will truly be called on only in cases of emergency and not as a way of life. So if you can’t be here for the seminar than please stop by and allow me to give you some info to take with you.

I am a vocational Deacon in this diocese. St. Georges’ has been blessed with several Deacons as part of your worshiping community, Kathleen Ballard and most recently Chris McCloud. And so you know that we are ordained to the ministry of service. Our ministry is first and foremost to model an active care ministry. Care of individuals as in pastoral care and also care of the community through social ministry. All of the deacons in this diocese are very different. You can see that in their day jobs. Some are nurses, chaplains, managers of social service organizations, teachers, or anti-hunger advocates. Having said that the heart of our ministry is the same. We all see the world in through the same lens – we see the world through the lens of vulnerable people. Sometimes those people are what the gospel calls “the least of these” and their needs are easy to spot – the hungry, or those that need shelter or those that are sick. Sometimes their needs are not so easy to see, like their sense of isolation from others in their community, or maybe just their sense of isolation from God. Perhaps loneliness is the most common unmet need. Our sense of separation is the most common denominator for all God’s people. Here is where it comes together for me. “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me... “We participate in our own reconciliation, in mending our own relationship, traveling that distance to God when we take the “risk” of a relationship with the least of these... So there really is mutuality about serving that I want to talk to you about today. I may be meeting their needs but they are also meeting my needs. It’s a connection. In the entirety of the Bible we hear in people’s experience of God that God wants only for his people to be connected to each other; to care for each other and to find God in those caring connections.

That is not always easy even for Deacons. I’ll start with a confession. Every week on the way to work, I drive on 280 and get off of exit 15 in Newark and always I get stuck at the light at the bottom of the ramp. It a long light it turns onto Rt. 21 which is a very busy road. Sometimes I am get stopped almost making it to the turn and so I am first waiting for the light to change, and so often I am the second or third car up that ramp. Usually at this time a person appears, seemingly out of nowhere. A beggar someone who is looking for change and comes up to my window. Here comes the confession. If I am three cars back I have time to pray before they come up to the window. I pray not that we can deliver the people who live in poverty from poverty, not that maybe this person who may have a drug problem or other problems that are barriers to them becoming whole can get the help they need. No I pray that the light will change before they reach my car. I just can’t deal with it that early in the morning. I get angry that I have to. I get angry at them for not fixing their problems. I get angry at society for not helping to fix their problems. Most times when they do manage to reach me and I can’t avoid it I reach down in my purse and give them some money. I don’t always look in their eyes. This act doesn’t alleviate my anger. I still feel angry because no matter how much I work at alleviating the problem of poverty it assaults me and I feel like a failure. And then when the light changes and I am safely away from the confrontation. I feel ashamed and I begin to feel guilty at myself for having all those feelings.

As I pull into the parking lot and I finish my journey to work I say a different prayer, “Jesus, Son of God have mercy on me a sinner.” This prayer, “the Jesus prayer” or the “prayer of the heart” is not new it has been used for centuries by Christian communities as a first step. It is the simplest most desperate prayer when you are at the end of your rope -- a surrender prayer. It’s a prayer where I acknowledge this “true confession” to myself and then offer it up to God. In those moments I recognize that I have a way to go to be a follower of Jesus but … that I have take a step toward getting there.

Today’s Gospel gives us that prayer as part of the story. It is the last healing story in the Gospel of Mark. The last public healing, after this story Jesus moves on to Jerusalem and toward the cross. This in effect is the last statement given by our Gospel writer about Jesus ministry and so it is really a statement about what his ministry means. It is also the culmination of the stories about discipleship and what it means to be follower. Jesus is traveling and blind beggar named Bartimaeus (son of Timaeus) is on the side of the road begging. The name has meaning, Bart-teymeh means “son of poverty” in Aramaic. This man immediately shouts to Jesus “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” People around Jesus, you know his entourage tell him to stop and be quiet but he shouted even louder. “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stops and stands still and he tells them to call him over. And they turn towards him and say “Take heart, get up, he is calling you”. I love that. Take heart, get up, he is calling you. That’s the line that stops me in this story. All a long I have been somehow not identifying with the son of poverty the blind beggar because I am not poor and I can see. But when I hear that line, I identify with poor Bart. Even my name for him in my mind changes to a nickname of a friend a kindred spirit. I want to desperately to be in his shoes. I want to hear someone say to me, “take heart, get up, Jesus is calling you”. Me personally, someone who can’t bear to look at the beggar outside my car window. Jesus have mercy on me, a sinner. If we can agree that sin really anything that gets in the way of me relationship with God. I can say my sin is one of surrendering to hopelessness and letting fear and apathy creep into my heart. In those moments when I stare straight ahead I have clearly turned away. I don’t have the courage to turn towards that beggar. Who is not Bart at all but a disciple telling me that Jesus is calling. I don’t have the courage to believe we are deeply connected and to stop thinking of it as his problem, or society’s problem, and not my problem, our problem. To turn towards the relationship that Christ offers and affirms, I am a sinner, known and still deeply loved. Mark starts out his Gospel with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. And ends his teachings by telling us to “Take heart, get up, Jesus is calling you”. If God knows all this about me and still calls. That is good news.

Truth is we need help in believing in this News. All are worthy and we are all responsible but that there is joy waiting in this connectedness and responsibility. What do I want? I want what Bart has. I want to feel what Bart feels. I want to throw off whatever I need to throw off (my pride, my money, by cloak or whatever keeps me from) feeling that deep sense of acceptance that knowledge of being known and loved and jump up with the enthusiasm and energy. The energy that has him leaping to his feet with, joy just at the invitation. When asked, “Diane what do you want me to do for you?” I want to answer to clearly and firmly. “I want to see again”. Lord, help me to see the truth again. Help me to believe in that reality. Heal me so that I can “see” that. Truth be told we need serve not just as duty because the Bible tells us to help the poor, we need the connection to the “least of these” to address our own deep need for connection with God. They help us understand what we cannot see.

Nora Gallagher is a writer and a reporter and she wrote a book that chronicles part of her journey of faith through a year seen through her eyes in the life of her Episcopal parish in California. She talks about the ordinary days within the entire year and her connections with people there and her work in the soup kitchen. “Things blind us, crowd our vision… In our midst is a man without a blanket and shoes too large for his feet. We have organized our lives so that he is hidden from us. He lives, like God in invisibility. But when we do see him, I think tonight, we keep a rendezvous. In the seeing is a glimpse, a foretaste of the kingdom: it will be a place where everyone is seen, including us. Here we are together in Ordinary time, learning how to see.”

I have not met a person who volunteers in a pantry, soup kitchen or any outreach effort that actually meets and talks to a people they serve that does not come away changed. Amazed by their stories, amazed by their hospitality, and more often than not amazed by their faith and belief in the hopefulness of the world and the unfailing love of God.

Jesus ends his public ministry to us today with one more story about a marginalized person. Someone who is poor and outcast. Like all the others it is easy for us to see that he needs help. Like all the others Jesus reminds us that he is the “first” to get that. Because he is vulnerable he has no illusions about it. We are reminded one final time that though we are “last” to get this the invitation is still open. He calls us not son or daughter of poverty. He calls us, child of God. So take heart, get up, have courage to turn towards that persistent knocking on your window and follow.

©2009 The Rev. Diane Riley