"Every Day"

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the psalm we heard, "Hallelujah! I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart, in the assembly of the upright, in the congregation." What a fitting verse to use on the occasion of our annual meeting - to give thanks to God in this assembly. The best of what we do here is in relationship to God. Today we will hold our annual meeting, we will usher in Black History month with a series of events and speakers and I will offer some reflections on the annual Diocesan Convention held yesterday. What a tall order!

But then again, maybe not so tall, because it’s all ways in which we give thanks to God as an assembly of upright and a congregation. The common denominator of all that we do is the worship of God and the mission God calls us into.

Yesterday at the Parsippany Hilton delegates from over one hundred Episcopal churches gathered as we do every year to elect people to offices, review the budget, debate resolutions which reflect the mind of the Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Newark which comprises the upper third of this state. It is a diverse mix of over 500 people from a fascinating cross section of this complex state we live in. The content of the resolutions varied from speaking out against torture in all places under all circumstances to support of marriage equality for gay and lesbian people in this state. There was conversation of what is fair and equitable compensation for clergy and lay church workers. There were presentations called Mission Minutes which began last year and highlight in large screen projection format the ministries of churches and agencies around the Diocese. Bishop Beckwith reiterated his image of gates of spirituality that we pass through in our work - namely Worship, Radical Welcome, Peace and Justice and Christian Formation. It is through these gates that the work and witness of the Diocese is refracted into a splendid and hopeful rainbow of ministry giving thanks to God with our whole heart. I was particularly proud of our parishioners Michael Francaviglia and Diane Sammons who serve on the Bishop’s staff and whose work is vital and recognized throughout the Diocese.

After the service this morning we as a parish will conduct our Annual Meeting which serves the same purpose as the Diocesan Convention, but on the local level. We have practical business as a church in the midst of the worship and ministry that goes on here. My report on the highlights of the year and some of the challenges we face will be distributed as part of the Annual Meeting Packet. We have much to thank God for and how wonderful it is to do so "...in the assembly of the upright, in the congregation."

Part of our ministry is recognizing and celebrating the diversity which is in the fabric of our church and which gives us interesting dimension and spiritual texture. February marks Black History Month nationwide and it’s a gift to all of us to celebrate with so many the unique witness and contribution African Americans bring to the national community. It’s often said that which does not destroy you, makes you stronger. The devastatingly cruel and sadistic spiritual violence done to Africans brought against their will to this country in chains and who endured centuries of slavery and prejudice cannot be minimized or overlooked in any discussion of Black History. It is indelible and reverberates in every aspect of race relations. The response it brings out of us, both black and white, is the challenge we face and live with, even as we struggle to recognize the depth of it’s influence.

With the inauguration of President Barack Obama it is abundantly clear that we are living Black History. The worldwide response is unmistakable. The sense of community and hope in the majority of the world right now is an electric charge that has the potential of doing such good in a world so sorely challenged and fragile at this moment. We teeter, however, on an almost messianic expectation that is unfair to Mr. Obama, but the breath of fresh air at this moment is too exciting not to enjoy. No doubt, the everyday grind of political machinery will resume, but the symbolism of this historical breakthrough will last. The presidency of the United States is a pinnacle of power and prestige recognized throughout the world and having an African American in the Oval Office speaks of a hope justified in the fairness of our system. It certainly hasn’t been all sweetness and light, there have been many vitriolic and racist reactions to the election as well. But that is also part of our process. Who ever wins, bears the scorn of those who did not support the candidacy.

But the effects of slavery and prejudice are not erased overnight or with a successful presidential election. The wide range of discrimination based on skin color is very much alive. But that which does not destroy makes stronger. Black History is not only about slavery and discrimination. It is about faith, courage, creativity, persistence, witness and love in defiance of the very slavery and prejudice that sought to break the spirit. History books have been largely silent about the contribution of African Americans to exploration, medicine, law, church, invention, in fact every aspect of common life. That is changing slowly but it is changing only through the continued persistence of the Black Community and the widening support of an awakening white community.

As the white community awakens to the oft hidden and sad truths of the past, one of the reactions is guilt. A knee jerk reaction to profound guilt can be denial. And that’s where people of faith can offer a contribution. The truth is not to be feared, it is to be embraced as God is embraced. Jesus said "I’m am the way, the truth and the life." In another place, he said the truth shall set you free. Where prejudice exists, two people are spiritually injured, the one being discriminated against and the one discriminating. Both are captive to two different sides of anger and both need to be set free. The truth is how freedom starts. And the truth is told in story. It is up to all of us, black and white , to listen to each other’s stories without denial or fear, but openness and trusting God to be in the midst and bring healing to the wounds of history.

I have a personal story I’d like to share. Some years ago I was in a relationship for eleven years with an African American man. He was an avid jogger and marathon runner. One hot summer day he went for a long run and when he returned it was clear something was wrong. It got to the point where we called an ambulance and he went to the local hospital in Queens where we lived at the time. It turned out to be nothing serious and related to dehydration, but he stayed in the hospital for a while for some tests. Now, my partner was, at that time, a high profile official in New York City government. It did not go unnoticed the he had been admitted and the hospital administrator rushed to the room with a great entourage. Even though he did not know my partner, there’s a political protocol to these things. There were several beds in the hospital room, only two were occupied. The one by my partner and the other by a white man.

As the administrator and entourage hastily arrived at the door, there was that moment of indecision on the face of the administrator about whom to approach. On the one hand there was my African American partner sitting in the bed, arms folded, with that city official/ Yale persona he was good at presenting - and in the other bed was an older white man with blank eyes, scruffy beard and disheveled hair. Under his breath, my partner told me, "Watch this."

After the moment of hesitation the entourage went to the bed of the white man, who became alarmed by the energy of the group approaching him. Being a relatively small room we couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. Turns out the man was homeless and while he enjoyed some of the city’s services, he was not the one in the position of funding them.

The entourage turned in a sheepish fashion to meet the bemused gaze of my partner. They came over to the bed, dispensed with their official duties, ignored the elephant which had entered the room and left as quickly as they responsibly could. The bemused smile left my partner’s face and he simply said, "Every day."

Over the years of our relationship, I didn’t experience that every day. I often experienced getting the check when we went out to dinner, or being the only person addressed when meeting new people. I often did see the slights and hear the tones and words that could be taken differently. I heard his stories and frustration, and felt the helplessness of someone who cared but couldn’t change the world.

In the Gospel lesson Jesus threw out the unclean spirit and all were amazed. In the healing stories, Jesus often exorcized the demons by calling out their names. It seems to me, that the demons of the past continue to remain dangerous as long as they are unnamed. Telling stories and being open to the truth calls out the names and uncovers the demon hidden within. We are not the demons. Whether black or white, we are not the demon. The demons names are fear and anger. Those demons make us do awful things to other people and to ourselves. The love of God casts those demons out with truth so that the good inside each of us can flourish.

The work we do in this church and in this Diocese is to witness to the truth as well as we can and improve as much as we can. History does not happen separately, but together and together we can grow in faith and cast out the demons which hurt and threaten us. Together we can "...give thanks to the Lord with (our) whole heart, in the assembly of the upright, in the congregation." Amen.

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

Annual Meeting Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Jesus said in this morning's Gospel, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it..."

Speaking the truth comes at a cost. Especially when that truth goes against the grain of the status quo. Jesus' observation of the fate of the prophets in Jerusalem mirror his understanding of his upcoming ordeal at the hands of the very people who sang his praises. He knew that a change would come. He too would be among the casualties of those whose loved Jerusalem, its people, its temple, its worship, its very way of life and tried to tell them a truth they did not want to hear.

His truths were simple. God loves everyone, even the Gentiles. God forgives everyone who asks for forgiveness, even the worst of sinners. God is not interested in outward appearance -- either in looks or actions; God is interested in the authenticity of our spirit which transcends our looks and inspires those actions -- good or bad.

He continued to say, "How often I would gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing." The love of God is a two way street. It's extended but it also needs to be received. So many were not willing to receive that love. So many still don't know it's waiting for them in the loving arms of God. Too often people then and people now are blinded by their own lack of self love, and the lack of love for their neighbor, to believe that God's love is indeed intended and offered to all. Willingness is tricky business.

Today we open our annual meeting. It's a time to celebrate the ministry God has called us to in Maplewood. We have much to be pleased with and proud of. Our worship and work, our fellowship, outreach, youth work, education and spirituality are all wonderful responses to God's call.

When our youth went on the mission trip to Mississippi to help as some of a long line of relief volunteers since Katrina hit, we learned many lessons, but I'd like to outline three that meant a lot to me. First, when a project seems too daunting, don't keep your eyes fixed only on what needs to be done, because you may get overwhelmed and frustrated. Keep an eye on what you've accomplished as a measure of your work and build on it.

Second, we learned that our being there also helped build up those engaged in the day to day work -- and they need that help! We were there for a week, but those who live there and saw us felt strengthened in their work. That part of the work we couldn't measure but we certainly felt it when they said "Thank you" and sometimes in tears.

Third, we learned that by answering a call to help others, we did in fact help them, but we also grew in our spiritual lives. Each of us changed a little that week for the better. We reached outside ourselves and received in equal measure to what we gave.

Our youth showed a willingness to be gathered up by Jesus, to receive love and show it. There was no killing of prophets that week, only love of God and neighbor.

The lessons we learned in Mississippi are not new ones. They are age old, though sometimes need to be taken out and shown again. Here in St. George's we can look at a world full of struggle and pain and be overwhelmed by the immensity of it. There is the war. There's natural devastation including the recent tornados in Alabama. There are deep divisions in the Anglican communion with feelings of anger and betrayal. There is pain so many feel in the limits of marriage equality for gay and lesbian people. There are also the large problems of health, grief, fear, and uncertainty that all of us go through at one time or another. But there is also much good news and much to be joyful about.

If we focus on the immensity of the problems we can be defeated. But if we look at what we have accomplished in our lives and in our communities we can feel strengthened and empowered to continue. We can hold onto the joy that comes from doing the best that we can and as much as we can.

St. George's is a place of healing. God's healing comes in so many forms and meets us in so many places of need. It too is offered freely to all and is received as we are willing. We are certainly not the only place of healing in the world. By no means! God has many such places! But, we are unique. And God doesn't heal people in other places like God heals people here! We are faithful, active, progressive, thinking people. We are gifted in many ways and eager to share those gifts in praise, song, fellowship, friendship and humor. We're not afraid of disagreement and often welcome a healthy debate. We pray, we care, we eat!

We assemble here gathered by Jesus as a hen gathers her brood and are willing, at least more often than not. And in that worship, witness and work, we find healing. We find God.

In the first lesson, God took Abraham outside and told him to number the stars if he could, because that will be the number of his descendants. Impossible is the only word to use. Impossible to count the stars and impossible to think a man and woman in their 90's could have a child. Scripture doesn't tell us if Abraham ever counted the stars, but he and Sarah did have a child and the descendants are still appearing as the stars to be counted.

The scriptures call us again and again to be faithful despite the daunting challenges. God can and does work miracles all the time -- and yet even these in God's time, not ours. Our task is to strengthen each other and work toward God's call.

A few weeks ago we were visited by Bishop Julio Murray of Panama who preached a wonderful, inspiring sermon. In the context of it he thought we were too uptight to turn to each other and tell each other that God's loves you and so do I. It was a good natured poke, but we proved him wrong. I'd like you to do that again today. Please turn to someone on either side of you and say, "God loves you and so do I" and please add this time, "I'm glad you're here." Amen.

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

Annual Meeting Sunday

By Ulysses Dietz, Senior Warden

Today's scripture was all about water, and about being called into a covenant with God symbolized by water. In Genesis God called Noah to build the ark and save his family from the Flood. God's rainbow was his guarantee that he would never again abandon humankind. The Epistle of Peter reiterates that covenant, comparing the Flood to baptism (which is a creative way to think about it) just as baptism is God's call to us to be cleansed of our sins and get ready to do God's work. The Gospel focused on Jesus' own baptism in the Jordan, and his call to go into the wilderness in preparation for his final call: to give himself in sacrifice to save all of us. What strikes me particularly about these parallel stories is that neither Noah nor Jesus remotely wanted to do what they were called to do. We don't always answer God's call willingly.

We are baptized, most of us, without our consent. We are called to be part of God's covenant with mankind for our own good by our families. It is later, first at confirmation, and then when we join a church as adults, that we are called to fulfill the promise of that baptism; to live into the covenant with God that baptism represents.

Each of us is called to do the work God has given us to do. We are not, however, called to do all that work flawlessly. And there is often a substantial difference between what we are called to do and what we want to do. In some ways that lifelong tension between what we are called to do and what we want to do defines us as humans.

This past Thursday evening, as I was setting up for a funeral, I was standing up at the high altar, smoothing the fair linen down after having changed the frontal from purple to white. My cell phone rang. It was the marketing director at The Newark Museum, urgently trying to find me to ask me to write up something that night for a promotional collaboration with the NJ Performing Arts Center for next year. Something about trying to connect a show about the Rat Pack (you know, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin?) with an exhibition I'm planning on contemporary studio glass in 2007. Somehow I had trouble seeing the connection.

This week at work I was also called to draft a letter for my boss to take to Governor Corzine to sign, to try to convince the CEO of a huge corporation not to sell of part of the Lenox China archives at auction, because we think it should stay in New Jersey. And I had to draft a fact sheet so that my boss could explain to the governor why we are asking him to sign the letter. In the meantime, I was trying to work on the text and labels for an exhibition of jewelry (called Objects of Desire) that I'm opening in early May, and I also had to finalize the checklist and text panels and label copy for a huge exhibition of 20th-century ceramics from the Museum's collection that opens next week in a corporate art gallery in New York -- which I spent all day Friday installing, and which I will spend all day Monday installing. And I had to assemble the slides and write the script for a lecture I'm giving on the evolution of the American home at a Drew University fundraiser next Sunday afternoon. And on Wednesday I had to visit an elderly couple in Teaneck, whose middle-aged daughter is dying and who therefore want to leave the museum the collection of art pottery they had intended to leave to her.

And I was called this week to leave work early to take my son to get his next round of braces and learn how to crank up his palette expander each night for the next six weeks; and to go into work late so Gary and I could meet with our daughter's teachers and discuss how we're going to arrange her special education resources at school next year; and help her through the fourth-grade-build-a-model-of-the-solar-system project; and celebrate our son's 10th anniversary of his arrival from Guatemala; and try to teach Gracie what a perimeter is, even though she totally didn't get it; and sit and do long division problems with Alex, even though he totally does get it and just likes me to do the work with him. And I was called to sit and watch the Daily Show with Gary at 11:00 each evening, which is virtually the only time we have alone together on any given day.

St. George's called me to do the flowers for church last Sunday, and clean up after the eight-o'clock service; and count the money with Kirk Petersen after the service (did we ever get the bank key back?); and during the week I needed to set up three Ash Wednesday Eucharist services for Bernie, as well as the funeral I mentioned before; and then I had to gather the biographies I'd forgotten to gather last week for the candidates for vestry for whom you'll be voting this morning; and poll the vestry about who would bring what for the lunch you'll be eating after this service; And also wash and iron a load of altar linens from last week, which I brought in this morning. Oh, and write this sermon.

And that was just last week. It reminds me of a T-shirt I saw once. On the front it said:

GOD PUT ME ON THIS EARTH
TO ACCOMPLISH A
CERTAIN NUMBER OF THINGS.

And on the back it read:

I AM SO FAR BEHIND
I WILL NEVER DIE.

We all feel this way sometimes. Perhaps too much of the time.

Beginning with our baptismal covenant, we make covenants in many aspects of our lives. We make a covenant with our employer (ok, a contract), by which we are bound to serve and for which we receive money. Unfortunately, employers sometimes don't see their covenant with us in quite the same terms that God does.

We make a covenant with our friends; and with our spouses; and when we are called to parenthood, we make a very special covenant with those children. (When you adopt, that covenant is made quite literal by the adoption process, but it only underscores the truth for anyone who is charged with the welfare of a child). These covenants with people are, to me, the most important covenants we make in our lives, for in them we most closely emulate God's covenant with us.

When we, as Christians and Episcopalians, become members of a parish; we are called to enter into a covenant with a community. We are called to live out our baptismal covenant with God by being part of that community. Notice that on the weekly bulletins that all the people of St. George's are called its ministers. We say that for a reason. Without all of you -- you sitting here in this building now and those St. Georgians who are somewhere else right now -- there would be no St. George's. A church is defined by its people; the priest may set the tone, but without the people he or she is just a lonely soul in an empty building. How each of us answers our call to do this part of God's work defines what St. George's is today, and what it will be in the future.

Some of us are called simply to go to church on Sunday. That is a precious calling in this secular world, where it sometimes seems that only fundamentalists and the extremely orthodox go to church regularly. This is to me a terribly important way to live out our baptismal covenant. However, as well all know, perfect attendance in church won't get the work done and it won't pay the bills. That is why we are called to be ministers and not only worshipers.

Some of us are called to get involved in Parish ministries, committees and task forces; ranging from staging Broadway shows to Bible study, to hosting coffee hour to knitting afghans to washing and ironing the altar linens. Some of us are called by a specific talent to, say, sing in the choir or sit on the Capital Projects Committee. Some of us, because of our particular skills, are called to avoid anything that remotely resembles what we do in "real life." Some of us are called to try out different things at St. George's over time; others to do various different things all at the same time. And, luckily for us all, some of us are called to be leaders, and to chair ministries and committees and task forces -- and to run for Vestry.

The Year 2005 at St. George's was an amazing year. We as a parish were called to do a tremendous amount of God's work. A wide variety of Centennial events filled the calendar, and if that wasn't enough, we embarked upon the first year of a three-year capital campaign, to raise money so that we can begin to transform this group of old buildings into a place where we can all live out our baptismal covenant more effectively and in community with each other.

We have, so far, managed to gather pledges to the tune of $660,000 for the capital campaign. While this won't let us accomplish everything we have dreamed of doing with our church and our parish hall and our resource center, it will certainly get us well along the road to fulfill our dreams for the future.

Perhaps most amazing to me is the fact that our centennial year was also the most brutal year in my memory in terms of global natural disasters; and from the pews in this parish we also raised some $20,000 in special charitable contributions to assist those in this world who have suffered.

And on top of all of this, the people of St. George's have been called to pledge some $270,000 in stewardship, to keep the lights on and the phones answered and the floors mopped for 2006. Part of that stewardship pledge will help St. George's keep its covenant with the Diocese of Newark; and in turn that will help the Diocese keep its covenant with the National Episcopal Church. We here at St. George's are part of a global covenant.

We are called to do many things to live out our baptismal covenant with God. But only God can give us the will to do that work in all its different aspects, with our time, with our talents, and with our money. Not everything that we want to do will get done in 2006. There are things that each of us might like to see happen this year that simply won't happen. This is true in our work lives; this is true in our home lives; and this is true in our lives as ministers of St. George's. This is not failure. This is reality. We can only do what we have the will to do.

Each week in the post communion prayer we ask God to "send us out into the world to do the work you have given us to do." This is not a guarantee that we will accomplish everything we want to do, or even everything we need to do. But it is a guarantee that God will be with us each step of the way. The moment that sacred water was poured on our heads in baptism, we received that guarantee.

For me, it is this guarantee of God's unwavering love that lets me face each day sure that, whether I succeed or fail, I will not be doing it alone.

Amen.

© 2006 Ulysses Dietz