Trinity Sunday

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

It’s been said that God is not a puzzle to be solved but a mystery to be explored. There are no accurate answers to the questions, "Who is God?" or "What is God?" So many books have been written and all fall short. Far many more create God in their own image returning the favor from the book of Genesis.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, "God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him." That’s very nice to hear, since much of the rhetoric we hear on the airwaves is the reverse. The picture of God that many draw and many others see is one of a god that condemns. That is not the God I preach about. The God I know is love, and creativity and joy. A God who makes whales for the sport of it and who heals people for the love of them. The only ones he chastises are the ones who condemn others. Those who have somehow fallen short or missed their mark are not condemned by him but invited deeper into the mystery of His love.

How do we describe such a God? The early Christian theologians inherited the Greek models of philosophy and applied these to Christian doctrine. The methods of Plato and Aristotle found their ways into the Christian centers of Antioch and Alexandria in present day Turkey and Egypt. They wrestled long and hard with the questions of God’s divinity and humanity for decades forging a formula that took a couple centuries and coming up with a doctrine we know as the Trinity, in honor of which we name this Sunday. God the Creator, Jesus the human redeemer, and the Holy Spirit of wisdom - feminine in the Greek words of scripture, but curiously masculine in the English translations.

All separate and all the same. All confusing, all the same. And yet, in the midst of the confusion a reality surfaces that cannot be described, but only felt through a resonance of the spirit.

I feel God’s presence and love in glimpses of grace and have throughout my life. I suspect you have too or else you wouldn’t be sitting here. But try to describe it and we fall short. Isaiah described a wonderful vision of heaven. The Hebrew scriptures aren’t full of theology but they are full of stories, pictures and visions. They speak their truth and wisdom through the language of myth and tradition. In Isaiah’s vision he sees God sitting on a throne not in heaven, but in the temple. For the Israelites God lived in the Temple created by Solomon and destroyed by the Babylonians. But in his vision, Isaiah could still see it and God on the throne in it with angels flying about. One of the angels took a burning coal and putting it on his lips created that burning need to proclaim. And when the question came about whom they would send to the people - Isaiah uttered, "Here am I, send me."

It was a moment of conviction and transformation. A moment of clarity and determination. The discovery of something so profound and burning within to let others know: God is here and God does care. The mysterious distance of lofty thrones in Isaiah can be contrasted to Paul’s use of the word "Abba" in his Epistle to the Romans. He said, when we cry, "Abba! Father!" it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God. But the translators missed it again. "Abba" doesn’t mean "father," it means "daddy." Imagine, they could not bring themselves to translate a word so intimate, so loving and tender. I got a new appreciation for the word "Abba" when I saw a little Hasidic boy in Brooklyn jump into his father’s arms and call out "Abba." Then it made sense to me. The simplicity of the word and the closeness we are invited to share in God’s love. But how do you describe it in theological terms? We can’t. We can only tell it in story. Imprecise. Sometimes messy, and usually slanted, but oddly clear.

Nicodemus scratched his head trying to figure out just what Jesus meant by saying we had to be born again. I scratch my head on that one too. "Born again" is a loaded phrase. It’s right up there with "God". What does it mean? And is someone only born again once?

I’ve had two experiences that I could describe as being "born again." The first was at the age of 23 when I told another person for the first time that I was gay. In that one simple statement the years of pent up fear, self hate, and confusion exploded in powerful sobs that washed away the worst of it and replaced in my spirit the deepest and profound knowing that God loved me. Made me and loved me. Like a burning coal on my lips as though the angel of God asked whom can we send to tell others trapped in self hate that God loves them, I said "Here am I, send me. Try to stop me." The power of that conviction was amazing and I can describe it as passionately as any person who tells their story of being born again. That was 32 years ago and the strength has ebbed and flowed, but the deep knowing has remained.

I believe that being born again is that moment in each of our lives when the secrets we carry in our hearts; those that tell us we are not lovable are shown to be the lies. And once the lie has been exposed, the truth of God’s love rushes in like a mighty wind.

I felt another experience I describe as being born again that occurred 12 years ago. It was again the moment I told my secret truth out loud to another person. This time the truth I told was that I’m an alcoholic. Another and different reservoir of shame and guilt flooded out. Much quieter and less dramatic than my first experience, but equally as powerfully and deeply felt. Despite the pain and guilt I felt, the unworthiness and shame that I owned was laid bare and again the healing warmth of knowing that even in this God loved me, and a voice in my spirit that said," You’re going to be alright." Again, there was that deep knowing as mysterious as the One who sits on the mighty throne and yet also the quiet gentleness of the "Abba" holding the weeping child. How do you describe that except by story?

There is a power in saying our truths out loud. It’s incarnational, which means it takes on flesh and becomes real like the Word of God did in Bethlehem. The mysterious creator, the tender savior and the powerful spirit burning in us are real, and it’s God.

There is nothing that any of us have done or anything that we are that can separate us from the love of God and yet the fear of that separation keeps us silent too often. Silence can be very soothing, but it can also be the place where lies breed and twist inside us. It can be where bitterness is born and fear grows. That cannot be what God wants. Love is here and each of us is made by God and loved by God. Who we are and what we have done - good and bad - can be put to good use in helping others. What we have learned and accomplished can help others. Our speaker here today was invited because she dared to speak the truth burning in her spirit. She has helped others by her truth and her deep knowledge that she is lovable and loved. And no one can take that from her. Each of us is lovable and loved, and no one can take that from us. Even when we don’t believe it ourselves, God does and will send an angel with a burning coal to touch our lips. When that powerful realization hits, you won’t want to give your theology, you’ll want to give your truth. God did not come to condemn the world, but to save it through his love. It’s a message that needs to be heard. But who will go for us? Whom shall we send? Amen.

© 2012 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."

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.

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

Death, Healing and New Life

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

Going Deeper

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

God Calming the Storm

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A few nights ago I was in Rhode Island. I was visiting my parents, but the purpose for the visit was to be supportive of them while my mother had hip replacement surgery. The operation went well and she’s bracing herself for the difficult period of rehabilitation. The rest of us are bracing for that as well! There’s going to be a lot of shuffling around to accommodate the work of healing, but at least it’s begun. Anticipation of the event can be stress producing in one way, but when the surgery is over and it’s clear that the operation was a success, the relief that brings makes the rest of the work, as difficult as it will be, more manageable - or at least in a different and less threatening perspective.

While my mother’s surgery was elective and scheduled far in advance, we were surprised to learn that my aunt, my father’s sister, was admitted to the same hospital the same day as my mother’s surgery. Her health had been bad for quite some time and at 88 years of age, she was declining. Still, the timing seemed surreal to have my mother on one floor and my aunt on the next. My father, brother, and I went into my aunt’s room while waiting for my mother to come out of recovery and the situation looked very bad. With my cousin’s permission, I gave my aunt last rites and in fact, later that evening she died.

I was sad for my cousin and for the long road of care she had given to her mother. As her primary care giver for a number of years, there was the bitter sweet emotions of seeing her mother at peace finally and yet the pain of the sense of loss. I felt sad for my father, not even being able to imagine the emotions swirling around having his wife in pain on one floor and his sister dying of the other. My aunt and cousin are virtually strangers to me since they moved away from Rhode Island decades ago and the communication was sparse. But she and my cousin returned to Rhode Island a couple years ago to be near her brothers at the close of her life. It was a gift to all of them.

The next night as I was going to bed I could feel that familiar air pressure indicating that rain would soon be with us. Not much later I saw a flash of light and then heard the loud crack of thunder. The storm was quick and passed into the night, either that or I fell asleep feeling safe in doors.

When I read the Gospel lesson about the storm swirling about the disciples while they rowed on the sea, my mind drifted to the kinds of storms I’d just lived through. It’s not difficult to imagine the fear that comes from anticipating major surgery as a storm, or knowing that recuperation will be long and painful, or the emotions that rise in seeing loved ones in pain and feeling helpless.

The storm surrounding my mother’s surgery was inevitable, but still had a sense of planning and at least not being taken by surprise. There’s a certain amount of preparation that can take place. The storm still comes, but precautions were taken.

The storm surrounding my aunt was not totally unexpected, but still had an element of surprise. We fool ourselves to say that we are prepared for someone’s death if they’ve been ill. Expectation and preparation are not always the same and the severity of some storms still comes as a surprise even when they are predicted.

I thought of the readings as well. David entered a storm, but his was neither inevitable or a surprise. He created his. In next week’s reading, this story continues and we’ll see the consequences of David’s actions and the storm will really break. But again, he ignored the sense of righteousness he required of others and created the chaos that was soon to hit.

In the Gospel story, Jesus walked over the stormy sea to his disciples and told them not to be afraid. He himself seemed unaffected by the storm, yet entered into the storm experienced by the disciples. In all the cases of the storms I’ve mentioned, God was present and it helped calm the storm. With my family, prayer helped. Prior to the surgery, my parents, brother and I prayed. I should say that other than grace at meals, we are not accustomed to praying together and any self consciousness was swept away by the urgency of the situation. I find the same is true in other situations. People who are uncomfortable with prayer, become very comfortable when it addresses their pain. Inviting God in at times of need does help. Each of us in that prayer circle were going to be affected in ways that were both similar and different, and each of us was strengthened to face our particular challenges. When it came time later that day to give my aunt last rites, another circle formed around her bed and again, inviting God to come into that quiet storm helped.

Issues and challenges don’t disappear through prayer, but God does calm the storm. The disciples still had to row the rest of the way. Jesus didn’t give them a motor for their boat, just quieted the wind so they could finish rowing. They still had work to do, as did each of us in the hospital that day, even as David did in the events that unfolded after his affair with Bathsheba.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul prayed that they would be "...strengthened in (their) inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in (their) hearts through faith, as (they were) being rooted and grounded in love."

He also wrote, " I pray that you..know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with the fullness of God." David created his own storm and in our sense of fairness deserved the trouble he later got, and one might also argue that he didn’t deserve to have God’s love enter his storm and forgive him.

But that’s the point. God’s love is deeper than we can imagine and enters into storms that we didn’t create and those that we did.

Part of the healing that occurs in any of the events is offering our prayer to others that are in the same storms. The love of God is not only available to us through direct prayer, but also reflected through us and others in the prayer we offer one another. The love of God is experienced in the ways we reach out to each other to help in times of need. For every tragedy and storm in my life, part of the healing comes when I identify with someone going through similar pain and share with them what I’ve learned or experienced. Every ordeal we’ve been through can leave us stronger, and that strength will help us later on. It will also help someone who is feeling weak in their own crisis and storm.

The first part of the Gospel lesson is the familiar feeding of the multitudes with a few loaves and fish. Even if we think what we offer isn’t enough for a task that seems daunting, God can make it enough and more than that, God can make it abundant.

Storms will come. Of that there is no doubt. Storms in the weather and storms in our lives. In all of them God is near and coming to us in its midst. Fear not. Amen.

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

Imagine

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Imagine. Imagine yourself so desperate to be healed that you would fight a crowd to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment. Imagine the realization that he knew what happened and turned to find out who did it. Imagine the thoughts that would go through your mind, weighing whether or not you should admit it, or run away before anyone found out. Imagine stepping forward fearfully, wondering if Jesus would take the healing back and push you back into the pit of your disease. Now imagine the smile on Jesus’ face when he looked happily at you and shared your joy. Imagine being stunned that after so many years of illness, he told you that your faith has made you well, go in peace and be healed.

The woman in this story has no name given, imagine it was you. Now ask yourself, what might you have inside that would make you so desperate that you would risk the crowd and your fears to touch that hem.

The healing stories are among the most numerous in the Gospels. And in most cases there is a common thread, namely, the person in need such as the woman in today’s lesson, or someone on behalf of the person in need - such as Jairus on behalf of his daughter - approaches Jesus and asks, begs, or even takes the healing. And even though the individual cases differ, there is no one who is turned away. No one is told “no”. One notable difference is the way Jesus handled the death of his friend Lazarus. In that case he was asked to come quickly, much the same as Jairus. He didn’t say “no”, but he didn’t hurry either and Lazarus died. To Martha and Mary that must have seemed like a great big “NO” to them, but it turned out to be a greater good.

I find these healing stories to be fascinating. Ultimately I wrestle with their factual quality versus their spiritual quality. There are plenty of stories in each of our lives where physical healing has occurred to ourselves or someone we know that appear quite miraculous and in response to prayer. And there are also many tragic stories where the answer to desperate prayers seems to be “no”. When the answer appears to be “no” is it an imperfect faith that has failed or an imperfect God that closes the door? These are haunting questions, for which I for one, do not have the answers. It doesn’t stop me from praying however. Part of my personal faith is accepting that I don’t have the whole picture yet. I have learned that what I want is not always what is best. That doesn’t stop me from praying either. That little bit of insight simply shapes my prayer into making my requests known to God while remaining open to the outcome, certain that in the end my healing is God’s desire for me. Where I have to remain open is coming to understand what shape that healing takes.

Today is Gay Pride Sunday in New York City and it gets world wide attention. A vast community of Gay people and their straight friends witness and advocate in a parade not asking, but demanding healing. Demanding that the legal system statewide and nationally give full equality and protection from bias and hate. Claiming the spiritual healing that comes from not asking for equality, but fully acknowledging that despite the legal realities, we are equal.

I remember being tortured as a child by my own fears of being gay and the ostracism and danger I risked. I remembered my desperate prayers to be healed, made straight. I remember all too well the anguish I felt at God’s apparent silence and non-responsiveness. I prayed deeply and the answer seemed to keep coming back, “NO.” Was I not faithful enough, or good enough to heard? Was I already lost and left behind? Was I so awful as not even to be noticed by God? I was not only touching that hem, I was pulling it! Jesus couldn’t have helped but notice!!

The healing I sought came in a different way. It came by slowly over time understanding God’s love for me just as I am. Being gay is a rich quality of my character that informs how I see the world, form relationships with men and women. How I enter platonic or romantic intimacy. Even my humor and how I choose to decorate my home. It’s no better or worse than anyone else, it’s just who I am and part of who God made me to be. It is one facet of this particular diamond in the rough that God keeps polishing over the years of my being. There are many other facets, some smoother and rougher than others. My point here is that healing came not as I had asked for, but as I needed it. God did answer, and I believe is smiling, but I had to lift my head to see it, and open my hears and heart to receive it.

My healing is not evenly celebrated throughout the world. I am so fortunate and blessed that it is recognized here in this congregation, this Diocese and to some degree this state, but certainly not to the degree it will be one day. Parades are important, though the media will focus on the more exotic elements, and reinforce the negative rather than the positive understandings of what is hoped to be achieved. The struggles that take place in so many ways are also important in which ever arena they happen. But most importantly, the setting for healing must take place in the spirit of the individual who feels God’s love personally saying, “you are well, you faith has healed you, go in peace.” The disease that is healed at least in my case, was that of fear and self loathing. The healing that happened brought peace and self acceptance and deep knowing that I am loved by God who made me as I am and loves me. I have seen similar healing in other gay and lesbian people and I celebrate it. I have seen healing in straight people whose prejudice and even hatred and violence has been replaced by understanding and warmth if not, in fact, love.

All of us need healing in one form or another. In most cases the heed for healing will be within our bodies minds or spirits. It might be in our relationships or about finding our place in the world. Ironically we’ll discover that we don’t have the full picture on any given issue and that our prayers may appear to go unanswered or unnoticed. But I believe with my whole being that is not the case. Our prayer brings whatever awareness we have to the surface, so that it is not we who have God’s attention, but God who finally has ours.

None of us can afford to stop praying for healing for ourselves or others. There’s a lot that needs to be healed physically, emotionally and spiritually. Like the woman in the story each of us will have a time when we are so desperate about something that we will fight the crowd to claim the healing that Jesus will lovingly give. Whatever healing you need, I encourage you to reach out, risk what you fear to know that God’s love will surprise you with an incredible healing energy that you may not even realize has been at work in you until much later.

This wonderful woman in the Gospel story sought Jesus in quiet desperation to heal something that she had dealt with for many years. She later experienced fear and trembling after claiming her healing. And then experienced the ecstasy of hearing her savior tell her she was healed. That woman was healed in so much more than her body that day. So many of our illnesses are physical or emotional reflections of the illnesses we keep in our spirits. Accepting God’s love, and healing the spirit within radiates outward and takes many different forms - emotionally, physically, even in society. Imagine that. Amen.

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

Healing

By The Rev. Christian Carroll, Priest Associate

This morning we’re doing something a little bit out of the ordinary. We’re directly tying the topic of the sermon to the theme of the adult forum following the 10:30 service. The topic is “healing”. The topic came to be healing because the wardens and the sabbatical committee proposed that during our rector’s sabbatical we link some of what we’re doing and thinking about with Bernie’s activities while he is away. Healing is one of his interests and he will be teaching and preaching about healing throughout his travels hence we focus on healing today.

I take as my starting point those many times in the New Testament when Jesus talks about healing or heals someone of a malady. Here are just a few. In Matthew we read that, “… Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and sickness” and later he says “… As you go proclaim the good news, the kingdom of heaven has come near. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons”.

In Mark we hear that Jesus “appointed the twelve whom he also named apostles to be with him, and to be sent out to proclaim the message, and to have authority to cast out demons”.

And in Luke we see Jesus in the synagogue on the Sabbath. “When he stood up to read, the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

So, it is safe to say that Jesus understood his life to be about proclaiming the kingdom of God, freeing and healing people and telling his closest followers to do the same.

But problems can creep in for us modern folks as we take up the disciples’ commission to cure, caste out, and cleanse.

Healing gets complicated. It gets complicated when we begin to take a closer look and see that we have some questions. For instance, Is there a difference between healing and curing? What is healing prayer? What does it do? What’s a healing ministry all about? Can anybody be a “healer” or do you need to be trained? What’s happening when a person goes over to the prayer desk and kneels down in front of another person who lays their hands on them and prays? What if I don’t get the healing I ask for? Does it mean there’s something wrong with me? Is the healer not good enough? What does it mean if some people are healed right away and some people have to keep coming back? What does it mean if it looks like someone is healed but whatever the problem is returns?

In addition to questions like these there are suspicions about healing. Take for instance healings we see on religious TV programs. Someone comes before the healer. The healer prays over them and the person throws down his cane and walks away restored. When I was growing up I watched Oral Roberts on TV.

Some of you might remember him. He was a famous “faith healer” and things like that happened.

That wowed me and I had no problem believing that it could really happen. The man was praying. He was helping people. That made sense to me. That was until I caught on to what my older siblings and cousins thought about it. It wasn’t cool to believe that things like that could be real. “It’s all an act”, they said. “Those people are fakes”. “They plant those people in the audience.” “They’re all in cahoots.”

Besides the views of my suspicious and cynical siblings there came a more sophisticated language of doubt and suspicion. “It isn’t scientific”, “It’s irrational to believe that can happen.” Then there’s also the idea that what we think of as healing is a mere matter of suggestion. It goes like this. I put the notion in your head that you can be better and you become better. I put the notion in your head that when I touch you, you are going to fall on the floor filled with the power of the Holy Spirit and you fall on the floor.

There is a lot about healing to occupy us in study and conversation. I think I read the better part of six books in preparing this sermon. One way or another they all suggested answers to the questions I’ve posed.

And frankly I overwhelmed myself. I invite you to read the books. I can provide a bibliography if you’re interested. But you have a great opportunity today. You can to go downstairs after the service, get some food and coffee and join the adult forum in the parish hall. I really encourage you to do that.

It’s an opportunity to talk to people in this congregation who are committed to a healing ministry. The people who offer healing prayers during our Sunday and Wednesday worship are going to be there talking about their stories and experiences.

But I’m not going to talk about the ideas or answers in the books.

I have another meditation on healing I’d like to put before you this morning. And it begins with this – after all my reading and thinking, about healing, healing ministry, healing prayer and the laying on of hands, after all my reading, prayer and study of the Scripture readings for today everything seemed reducible to ten words. From my personal experience and study I want to tell you what I know about healing – in ten words.

“You are loved by God more than tongue can tell.”

When all is said and done that’s it, “You are loved by God more than tongue can tell.”

That message is surely in today’s Scripture readings. Here what the spirit is saying to the church. It’s right there. The naughty, impatient, fearful followers of Moses complain and complain and the God of their understanding sends poisonous serpents among them, people are bitten and die. They admit their wrongdoing and beg Moses to pray to God to take away the serpents. So Moses prays and the Lord tells him to do something, “make a poisonous serpent and set it on a pole and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses makes a serpent of bronze, puts it on the pole and when anyone is bitten they look at the serpent of bronze and they live.

God continues to love and provide for the people in the wilderness. They discover it over and over again. When they turn away from trusting God and when fear finally drives them back to God, God is there to provide.

It’s right there in this morning’s gospel. John depicts Jesus alluding to today’s Hebrew Scripture in his conversation with Nicodemus. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life”. The gospel says that for us to have life, eternal life, we must open to this man Jesus, we must look to this man Jesus and come to believe that Jesus lifted high up on the cross, Jesus lifted up to the Father bears us our true life.

As the Israelites had to look at the serpent on the pole for life, Jesus tells Nicodemus the simple truth that he, Jesus, is the way. Jesus tells Nicodemus that his is our true life. He is the light in darkness but in our humanity we sometimes turn away from the light to live in darkness. But the light is always there for us. The light is always there for us to come to. You are loved by God more than tongue can tell.

In twelve step programs of recovery they say that the program offered for recovery is a simple program for complicated people. Jesus’ life is a simple truth that we complicated people have trouble understanding and accepting. Jesus’ lifting brings eternal life to us. His life and death and resurrection mark the culmination of God’s persistent re-creation of the plan for humanity - to be at peace, to walk in love, to share that peace, to share that love and to share hope with each other when we falter.

To shine the light of our faith in God’s love and in the saving life giving work of Jesus Christ into the lives of our faltering brothers and sisters is our purpose. And living in that purpose we are healers one of another.

You are loved by God more than tongue can tell. The message is there. Sometimes we take in the message. Sometimes we’re not there to hear it. There’s stuff that gets in the way. And under the weight of that stuff we sometimes buckle and we are brought to an aching desire for relief from our stuff, for soothing, for clarity, and it is then that we call out for the restoration of something. Some sense of rightness, some sense of wholeness, some hunger that makes us look outside ourselves for the truth of who we are meant to be. I think that is the movement toward what we call healing. Let me show you what I mean.

I’d really like to – I’d really like to ask you for a show of hands on the question of who believes “You are loved by God more than tongue can tell.” But I won’t. I don’t want you to give a quick answer. It is too important a question.

I want you to think about the power of those ten words. They can restore and they can be very, very hard for us to hear – to take in – to be changed by, to be healed by. Hard for many of us just to hear – let alone believe.

I thought about asking you to engage in a little experiment. I thought about asking you to look at the person sitting next to you or near you and to say to them: “You are loved by God more than tongue can tell.” I decided not to do that because I don’t want you distracted by your reactions. Instead I want us to look at some of the ways we might react and see if our reactions have anything to say to us about healing or if healing has anything to say to us about our reactions.

I can think of a lot of possible reactions if you did actually turn to each other and speak those words. Some of us would put a smile on our faces and go along and do it. Maybe with a voice inside our heads that says this is so stupid, this is so manipulative, I resent this. Maybe you’d have trouble maintaining eye contact with the person you say it to. Or maybe you’d be able to manage a little eye contact and then uncomfortably look away. Maybe a look of resignation or embarrassment appears on your face that says, “OK let’s just get this over with” and then you’d mumble to each other “You are loved by God more than tongue can tell”.

But then again maybe you’d feel a sense of release, a sense of freedom, an exciting opportunity to open toward another person. For some people it may feel really good to be able to tell you “You are loved by God more than tongue can tell”.

Maybe you’d say it and a smile would form on your face that comes from a deep, peaceful place. Maybe you’d feel a childlike sense of freedom. Maybe you’d feel all of these things all at once. A cascade of pent up embarrassments or joys about your ability to love and be loved, to heal and be healed.

If you think about what your reactions might have been, you might identify a place inside you that wishes your reactions were different. Maybe we’d see things inside us that we want to be changed. Or maybe you’d identify something that has changed over time and you want it to keep growing. Those reactions – they all have something to do with healing.

Anything that has to do with our discomfort in ourselves or with others is about a place that hasn’t basked in the light. And anything, anything at all that has to do with our being comfortable in our own skin needs to be shared. Any gift that you know in your soul has been given to you by God needs to be shared.

Healing is taking and giving the love of God. It is about opening dark and troubled places to the love of God in the faith that you are loved by God. Healing is about opening your lighted, peaceful places to others because you know they are loved by God.

Let me ask you, “have you ever had a moment when you saw someone just suffering so and you felt impelled in your guts to just touch them ever so gently? You are so moved – so moved – inside the body that you want to reach out of yourself – out of yourself and lay your hand on them. And if you let yourself do it - as that hand gets closer to its destination something rises up in you and you know it’s not you that’s reaching out. You know that you are seeing with God’s eyes. You know it is time to open. You know this is the charity of the heart of Christ moving in and through you.

Have you ever felt so happy for someone that you’re warmed by a deep, deep sense of peace as you look at their joy? That’s something bigger than this heart at work.

Listen to these words of John Shelby Spong as he expresses who Jesus is and what the life he lived and offered to us can do in and through us.

“The Christian story is a story of One who seemed infinitely to transcend his barriers, even the barrier of death: His ability to be open was uncompromised; he lived out a freedom and a wholeness; his capacity for love revealed that he had received an infinite amount of love, a love that continued to flow even as his life was being destroyed. As he died, he lived. This life, this love, tested that ultimate barrier of death and men are convinced he prevailed, generating power that other lives have met in age after age setting them free to live, to press the limits of their potential, to become persons they never dreamed they could be”. [1]

My brothers and sisters, in believing the realness of that Christ, in knowing that Christ, in allowing yourselves to live within the power of Christ’s love, in allowing yourselves to be a servant of that power, the healing love of God starts moving in us and out from us.

That’s what I know today. You are loved by God more than tongue can tell and the power of that love can knock your socks off.

[1] John Shelby Spong, Christpower. (Richmond: Hall Publishing, 1975) 11.

© 2009 The Rev. Christian Carroll

Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

We began our service singing “Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones”. It’s one of the great hymns of the church singing in glad alleluias of the Joy shouted in heaven in praise of God’s goodness and grace. Let all that have voice shout alleluia, let those whose hearts are full live alleluia.

This season of Epiphany is a recalling of the manifestations of God’s love active in the world and the Gospels stories over these past weeks describe how Jesus made manifest the love of God and put flesh to the words of praise sung for countless generations.

Ye watchers and ye holy ones. People of St. George’s, visitors and all gathered here - you are the watchers and the holy ones singing the praises of God today. You are raising the glad alleluias. You are continuing the songs of the angels, the bright seraphim, the prophets, the martyrs, the holy twelve and all people of good will around the world. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

This last Sunday of Epiphany is sometimes called “Alleluia Sunday” because it’s our last chance to say them liturgically before it is silenced by the solemnity of Lent. The children will symbolize this by putting away the “A-bugs” that on Easter will become Alleluia butterflies. These are the church seasons that mark the year liturgically, and make flesh our understanding of the grace of God in chronological and thematic ways.

And just as we mark the changes in the liturgical year, our cultural calendar changes seasons as well. We’ve observed Black History Month in February and next week, the first week of March will usher in an observance of Women’s History Month.

God is manifest in the lives of people and in the trends of history. The writers of scriptures understood God’s character by analyzing history and interpreting the movement of societies as God's guidance. When Martin Luther King said that the arc of history bends toward justice, he captured the ancient understanding of God’s manifestation through time.

So we observe segments of society and listen to their stories, hear their music and prayers. Hear how God has spoken to them and lifted them up on their own journey towards justice and fulfillment. Liberation for one group of people is a liberation of all others as well. When the slaves sang spirituals they gave voice and alleluias to God in a code of hope that still stirs people who feel enslaved by societies prejudice and injustice. Even captors and bigots are slaves to their anger, fear and hate and without knowing it, the freedoms grasped by those who are captives set even their captors free.

Over the past few weeks we’ve heard stories focusing on the complex history of African Americans from first hand and historical points of view. Tragic stories, hopeful stories, inspiriting stories from the points of views of black and white people. As brothers and sisters our histories are not lived apart except in artificial ways. The history of one people is a history of all people whether they are aware of it or not. We are all participants in this world, we have a share in how it unfolds and a responsibility to see that it unfolds in a way that is peaceful and just.

It’s good for us to include observances of the stories of people working toward justice, whether that justice is for people of color, for women or gay and lesbian. Everyone’s story is our story and God is manifested in them.

I want to say a word about the clothes I’m wearing. On the occasion of my 50th birthday a year and a half ago - you can do the math - Moses Chimezie and his family presented me with this traditional Nigerian men‘s clothing. Mr. Chimezie’s career in Nigeria was in the fabric and garment industry and his love of the fabric and eye for detail and quality is a joy to experience.

I wear this now in pride aware that it combines several themes for us today. As Black history month concludes we recall the Africans torn from their homeland and viscously enslaved. We recall the work for freedom, the industry and pride in a heritage that is beautiful and strong. We recall the blending of cultures and the gifts each now can offer to the other.

Another theme these clothes represent is a trip I am about to take to the great continent of Africa. For weeks we’ve been talking about and planning the next three months of my sabbatical. My travels will take me to Africa for a month, England for a month and Europe for a month. My travels will be chronicled via a blog I promise to maintain. The parish will welcome The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven as my substitute while I’m on this trip, and the wardens and Sabbatical Planning Committee have come up with activities, events and forums that reflect some of the themes of my trip. It will be a time of reflection and renewal for all of us. Sorry to say that I’m the only one who will get frequent flier miles out of it, though!

The scripture lessons this morning fit in quite well with these themes. They are about change and transfiguration. They are about continuity of leadership despite the people who are in those roles, because ultimately it is still God in control whose love is manifested in the good will of God’s followers.

I’m staying in monastic houses and with communities of people of faith in various cultural and social settings. I want to experience how different people understand God, pray to God, sing alleluia to God, live with God and reflect God in their music, words and lives. I want to see the colors and hear the rhythms of faith in this world. Even though my trip only scratches the surface of human experience, it’s far deeper than I’ve ever gone before. I’m excited and scared and determined.

When the apostles saw Jesus transfigured on the mountaintop, they too became transfigured. They walked back to the others as changed people. Our experiences and stories change us. The telling of those stories changes others. Over the next few months we’ll create some stories to share and we’ll be changed by the experience.

Although I’ll still be at St. George’s this coming Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, today is my last Sunday with you until I return on June 7. In one sense it seems long, but we all know too well that three months also passes in the blink of an eye. But I’m also missing you already. I love you all and I love my ministry in this wonderful church. It’s really painful to leave even for this short time, and yet my hope is to be a better priest for you when I return.

Spiritual healing is an important part of my ministry and I’ve been so happy that the prayers we offer during the service and the interest in healing has taken root here so well. Much of the preaching and many of the classes I’ll be teaching during my trip will center on this topic. My life in this ministry has been a seeking for healing myself. I’ve had a very happy life, but there have also been serious personal issues. Some of these struggles I’ve been able to share with you, and others may come in time. As an adult coming to terms with these issues I’ve found in God the source of healing and love. I’ve discovered that a ministry showing others what I have found and continue to seek is the most important thing I have and can offer.

We are all in need of some kind of healing. The stories are different, but the end result of need is the same. And the solution is the same also. God’s love. When we pray for each other after communion or on Wednesday evenings at the healing Eucharist, in the hospitals or homes, around this altar or anywhere, it’s how we manifest God’s love. It’s how we offer healing.

The opening of the hymn trumpets the watchers and holy ones of all ages in all sorts and conditions. Our common shout is Alleluia - a word of unsurpassed joy. That joy transfigures us. Good people of St. George’s, you are watchers and holy ones. Raise the glad strain, Alleluia, cry out dominions, princedoms powers, virtues, archangels, angles choirs, alleluia, alleluia. Let’s add another verse to this great hymn - O children in your schools, actors in technicolor dream coats, committee members, altar guilders, readers, and greeters. Computer geeks and business people. Raise the loud strain, Alleluia! Those afraid or hidden doubters, those with secret pains or unjust scars. Raise the loud strain, Alleluia. God’s love reflects your joy and heals your wounds. Share your stories and sing your songs. God is good, and we change and grow and make our histories arcing toward justice, transfigured in God’s grace and always within God’s sight and love. Alleluia, Amen.

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

It's Never Too Late to Heal

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Presidential campaign was put on the back burner this week as our attention was riveted to the stock market. Historic declines terrified millions and set off domino effects around the world. Attempts to bail out the major companies and hopefully the small investor and homeowners are being sought and frantically put in place with prayers for deliverance. Deliverance from what? Or whom?

Many years ago a cartoon character named Pogo made famous a saying: "We have met the enemy and he is us." It was a take off on the previously famous quote from Naval Commander Oliver Hazard Perry who after a battle in the War of 1812 said, "We have me the enemy and he is ours."

Commander Perry’s quote was the succinct report of his success against British ships in the Battle of Lake Erie, while Pogo became the voice of his cartoonist Walt Kelly in a Poster made for Earth Day in 1970 talking about preserving the environment.

In 2008, we know there’s an enemy, but it seems we don’t quite know who it is or what to do about it. It’s certainly tempting to look outside, but more often the truth lies inside. While searching for others to blame for our misfortunes we cannot overlook the probability that our own past actions have consequences coming home to roost. And just as the causes usually begin from within, so the solutions can be found from within. It starts with honesty from top to bottom and side to side. As this crisis continues the stakes are high and all the more reason to look within as well as without to find the causes and solutions.

The first lesson today is the continued story of Exodus with the children of Israel having escaped from the Egyptians and now wandering in the desert. Given this week’s activity, the desert metaphor seems entirely appropriate. In literature and story the desert is a time in between the certainty of the past and the confidence of the future. It’s a time of not knowing, a time of venturing into new territory not necessarily drawn by the promise of what lies ahead, but motivated more by the knowledge that the past was unacceptable. When the Israelites left Egypt, they had been miserable under the intolerable conditions of slavery they endured. They had to get out and they decided to follow Moses based on his assurance that God would lead them to a better place. Since they believed things couldn’t be any worse, they decided to follow him and put their trust in a God they didn’t know and a leader who had no experience. They were indeed desperate.

After the excitement of escape they face the long period in the desert of unknowing. Their faith was tested and they frequently complained. They began to wonder if they made the right decision by leaving Egypt. It was bad, but at least they had food. They discovered at each step that God provided what they needed. It was a long, difficult trip, but God did not abandon them and there were signs of hope along the way.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus tells a parable in which the characters complain also. Those that worked all day complained that they made the same amount of money as those that had only worked one hour. Frankly, it doesn’t seem fair to me either and I would have complained myself, had I been one who had started in the early morning. That is, if the parable was about work. And that is, if the parable was about salary. It may have complaining in it, but it’s about God’s love. God’s abundant love is extended to all people regardless of when they show up. Even more than that, I believe the parable captures the joy of people who reach a point of clarity in their lives and start to live in a way that makes sense and offers wholeness.

I heard a story not too long ago told by a man about his mother who had been an active alcoholic her whole life. Somewhere in her early 80's she stopped drinking. Others hearing the story, rather insensitively asked, Why bother at that age? I heard it differently. I thought the woman was incredibly blessed to have finally found a sense of peace which had so long eluded her. Yes, it would have been wonderful had she stopped drinking decades before but what an amazing gift that she stopped at all. At the end of her day, her reward was equal to that of others who had stopped long ago. Spiritually, her gift was as priceless as that received by others.

Yesterday I attended the funeral of Walter Seward. He’s the father of our fellow member Marymae Henley. He was 111 years and 11 months old at the time of his death. The eulogies were long, they had a lot of ground to cover! The funeral was held in the chapel at Rutgers University from which Walter was graduated in 1917. We were told he was the president of the class of 1917 until he was the class of 1917. There were a lot of wonderful and poignant stories, but one of the most moving parts of the funeral for me was during the Rutgers alma mater sung by the glee club which easily had 100 young men singing. I looked around and noticed that all through out the chapel men and women of all ages were mouthing the words as the young men sang. There was a shared love of that university that has to transcend the buildings and classes. That place which watched each person transition from youth to adult, from naive freshman and wise fool sophomore to confidant senior taking a place in the world. Relationships and discoveries within their minds, hearts and spirits reverberated in that song as did the gratitude for a substance that fed them like the manna in the wilderness. The Israelites looked at this stuff that Moses called bread from heaven. It didn’t look like any bread they’d ever had, but it did the trick. Who knows what the substance is that feeds us in the institutions and societies that capture our allegiance but whatever it is works. I also belong to groups that make me sing with pride and love with people who have born the heat of different days and yet receive the same gift of a powerful knowing inside that God’s love is good, that I am loved, and I am so grateful.

Walter’s day was a long one and out of the billions of people in the world only 29 had a longer one. But according to the parable, the kingdom of heaven guarantees that 111 years or simply a day, we are loved by God with an equal and powerful love that is not earned but given.

The work in the parable is presented as a burden. It doesn’t have to be. The flight of the Israelites is presented as an escape and a time of fear. It doesn’t have to be. To be sure, there are times that are trying and fearful, but our lives can also be thrilling, adventurous and opportunities for unlocking mysteries, having fun and building relationships that make our hearts sing. When it’s like that, a long day is good to have. It’s the ones who showed up late that seemed to have missed out.

The parable means to us that it’s never to late to heal, never too late to try again, never too late to let go of something harmful and pick up something healthy. It’s never too late look for ourselves and find the best that’s inside us and never to late offer a hand to someone who’s lost. The gift of grace, the gift of love, the gift of joy is just as powerful for the late comer as it is for the early riser. We needn’t complain about that, we should be happy that another person has been surprised by joy, there’s plenty to share, there’s more than enough .there’s an infinite supply.

The ebbs and flows of our economics are often based on fear that there will not be enough, or that others will get more. There is a real world out there in which we live and work that plays by rules of fear and intimidation, greed and arrogance. But thank God there is a real world in here that sustains us with bread from heaven that heals us from within so that we can offer healing to the world without. Amen.

© 2008 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Not Peace, But a Sword

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Some of the most disturbing words in the Bible are in this passage from Jesus, saying "I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." Setting family members against each other, and saying those who put family members before God are not worthy of God seem cruel and even more confusing as it appears to be against the commandment to honor one's mother and father.

The answer to this difficult passage, I believe, lay in the paradox which follows it: Those who find their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

The easiest approach to this passage is the explanation that the Gospel of Matthew was written during the time of persecution. It was politically subversive to be a Christian since Christians would not recognize the authority or especially the divinity of the emperor. Being caught in Christian company or at worship was an offense punishable by at least prison and more likely by death in any one of many gruesome and agonizing ways.

On the religious level, Jewish synagogues also considered Christianity a threat to their law and established way of life. Traditional Jewish teaching did not recognize Jesus as the Messiah, as Christians insisted, and steadfastly upheld the law of Moses which Christians no longer felt bound to obey. The inclusion of Gentiles into the membership of Christianity only aggravated the animosity the Jews felt toward Christians. Punishment from the synagogues regardless of those handed out by the Roman government were severe ostracism and expulsion from the temple membership. Moreover, if someone was discovered to be a Christian, their whole family could be under suspicion and face similar punishments on both religious and governmental levels.

Families were indeed torn apart by matters of faith. Relatives did turn each other in to avoid suspicion. Horrible choices were made and grisly consequences followed. There were Christians who denied their faith in Jesus to avoid punishment and were then excluded from the Christian church on the grounds of betraying Jesus and also for fear that no one knew where this person's loyalty lay. They might just be a spy to turn in the fugitive Christian community.

It's against this backdrop that the Gospel of Matthew was written and those hearing the Gospel read would have listened very somberly and knowingly of the truth in these words. The convictions of one's faith have far reaching impact. As I said earlier, that would be the easy approach. To put it in the context of history and therefore safely out of the way.

But taking that approach wouldn't do us much good. We need to be able to bring these scriptures into our lives and wrestle with them especially when they make us uncomfortable. One question that echoes down through the centuries from this passage is, "What do you believe so fervently that you would risk your family, your life and everything you've ever known, rather than deny it?" Agonizing stories and situations that try to answer this question make up a good deal of literature. One of my favorite stories, A Man for All Seasons, has Sir Thomas Moore prepared to go to his death burning at the stake rather than approve King Henry VIII's divorce. His wife and family beg him to reconsider, the pressures of politics hound him, yet he stays steadfast in his ideals and it causes his death and he dies with the knowledge that his choice will bring immense hardship on his family after he dies. The bitter cost of integrity. It is a sword, and yet it is true to life.

Our truth, what we know of ourselves, what we value, who we are all get wrapped up in our integrity. Whether in dramatic instances or less, we all have faced or will face times when voices will want us to concede a point of our integrity. These scriptures address such times. Jesus said in another part of scripture that he is truth. If that God-part of him is truth, just as the God part in each of us is truth, we cannot deny it and live. If Thomas Moore had recanted his truth, something more important in him would have died, even if his body lived. Earlier in our Gospel Jesus told his disciples not to fear those who can kill the body but not the soul, rather, fear those who can kill both body and soul.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu was often asked during the Apartheid era if he was afraid of being killed. His consistent response was that no one could kill him. They might kill his body, but his soul belonged to God and no one could kill that.

Our truths are a very real part of us and need to be embraced, no matter the cost. Since this is Gay Pride Month I'll tell a personal story of how I relate to this scripture. When I was in my mid twenties I had already come to terms with the fact that I was gay. It was the secret I held close all through my childhood, high school, and college years. I lived in fear that others would find out and that I would become the focus of the kind of torment I'd seen other boys go through. My deepest fear was that my family would disown me and want nothing to do with me. Such things were common stories at the time, they still are tragically for that matter. Even today Christopher Street in Manhattan is one destination of teens thrown out of their homes for revealing their sexuality or as the result of others cruelly outing them. Homeless and afraid, they enter lives that are cruel and from which they can't even begin to lift themselves.

It boggles my mind how families can turn out children they claimed to love just a day before this information came to light. And just as it is true today, it was true thirty years ago when I lived with my secret. I didn't know how my family would react and I didn't dare take the chance.

As I graduated Seminary and entered into a relationship I knew the truth had to come out, and me with it. It was a difficult time with my parents, to give you a taste of New England understatement. But at the end I knew they still loved me and wanted me to be happy. Years of secrecy, fear and shame opened up to healing and truth. I consider this story to be a large part of why I find the healing ministry to be so important. Many of our injuries are not to the body, but the soul and while doctors can tend the sickness of the body, spiritual healing addresses the injuries that lay deep and festering in our souls.

It was in claiming my truth and as the years unfold, living my truth that have given me life. I had reached a point where I was willing to die to my family because the truth in me could not be remain hidden. It was a risk, that turned out happily for me regarding my family.

We all have our truths that we might be living or that might be deep within us yearning to be free. These truths could be our identity in so many ways that can be understood. Our truths may be the intellect or creativity we are afraid to use. Our truths may be our beliefs or doubts. Our truths may be in our business practices. Whatever they are, they are worth risking for.

We might be afraid of negative consequences, perhaps even to death. But unless we grasp our truths, we die anyway in our souls. The whole point of resurrection is trusting that new life will come from whatever death we might imagine or actually face as we grasp our truth. Even if we lose everything and gain the truth that is in us, new life will grow in a far better way. If we lose our lives for Jesus, that is the Jesus who says "I am the truth…" we will indeed gain it.

The scripture that causes us so much trouble as we read it simply brings to light a deep spiritual truth. It does so in the gritty language of a culture two thousand years ago. But it's clear that the truth still applies. Ultimately the sword that Jesus brings cuts through the slavery of fear, or shame, or anger or whatever else might prevent us from living the life God made us to live. Ultimately the words are of liberation and life. Tell your truth to some one, tell it to God, though I suspect, the One who is Truth already knows it. We surely must tell it, live it, embrace it and know that God loves us in the secrets we keep and in the truths that we shout. And that love brings us life.
Amen.

© 2008 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ