A Challenge to Remember the Poor

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homecoming Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"By their fruit shall you know them"

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

This week we focus on the next vision Amos saw. In this one, God is holding a basket of summer fruit and asks Amos what he sees, and Amos says a basket of summer fruit. So much for the obvious. After that the symbolism unfolds.
 
A basket of ripe fruit is a beautiful sight. The colors and textures, the promise of sweet, juicy goodness is wonderful. Before the days of preservatives and importing fruit from around the world, seasonal fruit was a fleeting pleasure to be enjoyed... in season.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compassion is the Plumb Line

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

Resting, Silence and Allowing God In

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death, Healing and New Life

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ascension Day

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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