Pride Month Forum by Joan Garry

It's been a while since I have been to church. I do make exceptions for weddings and funerals, but I find myself antsy and, more importantly, unwelcomed. And this from the mouth of a woman who never sat in a classroom without a crucifix on the wall. Catholic grammar school, Catholic high school and then a Jesuit college. I don't know why it took a singular moment for me to stop attending mass with my mom when she comes to visit, but it did. A year or two ago, I read about a church in Maine that, for several weeks, passed two baskets. We used to call them 'special collections.' This one in particular was not at all special. The church was raising money so that it could fight a gay rights initiative in that state. I believe they did it for several weeks running. I bet they raised a few bucks.

And so here I am at church. And I'm actually feeling pretty good about it because (a) St. George's is an extraordinary congregation and (b) because I control the message. And (c), I have a few things to say and this setting seems quite right for them.

This morning I'd like to talk about what I think of as the "get out of jail free card" in the world of intolerance and bigotry. I'd like to talk about bullying in its broadest sense – not simply the obvious personal kind but the institutional variety as well. I want to offer some of my own observations about the success of the LGBT movement and what I think lies ahead. And be forewarned. I never speak to a group without calling them to action. It's great that you are here, listening to me but it is what you do with what you hear that matters the most.

So first a bit about me.

I live in Montclair with my partner of 30 years. We were among the earliest migrators to Montclair from Park Slope. We personally take credit for Montclair being the gayest suburb on the planet (well, maybe tied for gayest with Maplewood) on the planet.

We came here to have a family. And we did. We have three kids. Our eldest is 22 and in 1993 she became the first kid in the state of NJ to legally have two mothers as we secured NJ's first second parent adoption. Boy / girl twins followed. They are now 17 and juniors at Montclair High. Our 17 year old daughter is an out lesbian, so as our oldest daughter Scout notes, there is only one person in our household who likes boys.

Religion has been an important backdrop for the story that is our family story. I met Eileen in 1981. There were bullies everywhere we turned. Starting in the Oval Office - his name was Ronald Reagan. Our families were bullies too. Unsupportive is the kind word to use I guess. My mother goes to Mass nearly every day so perhaps I need say no more. Except to say there were a few years with no contact. Eileen's parents were Holocaust survivors. They survived thanks to an extraordinary inner strength and a profound belief that things could change. They attempted to apply this to Eileen's sexual orientation.

Eileen and I planned a family together. We spent the necessary time required to get our ducks in a row. Our first duckling, Scout was born in October 1989. Of course I remember the day well. But not just because I met Scout for the first time. It was also the first time I'd met Eileen's parents. For eight years they had managed around it. More accurately, we'd allowed them to manage around it. Picture the scene. I'm in the elevator at Mt. Sinai and being the nice girl I hold the door for an older man racing to the elevator. I recognized him from pictures. But Eileen's dad had never seen a picture of me. I introduced myself and congratulated him on the birth of his granddaughter. We rode the rest of the way in silence.
In the twenty five years I knew Eileen's mom, she never said my name out loud. The first time I set foot in Eileen's family home was the day her mom died. When Eileen's dad passed away, the rabbi neglected to mention three of Ben Opatut's grandchildren. Because the rabbi didn't know they even existed.

And while I joke that Eileen's parents learned persecution from the master, I am clear that there is more to it than that.

Our parents, like so many who consider themselves deeply religious, believe they have permission to discriminate, persecute – there are a lot of synonyms. You can choose your own.

Permission is granted and your ability to cast judgment, discriminate, and yes, bully comes when a religious institution hands you your special card. It's your "get out of jail free card," your "you are off the hook" card. It is what I call the "deeply held religious belief card or for short, the DHRB card."

My 85 year-old mom plays bridge twice a week. She is a walking poster child for the power of bridge to ensure that you stay sharp as a tack (long after people are kind of beginning to hope you might miss a few things from time to time). Anyway, she taught me about the trump card. That card you play that causes everyone else to fold.

In the eight years I ran a national gay rights organization, I cannot tell you how many times someone dropped the DHRB card down on the table and expected me to fold. Bill O'Reilly, Jerry Falwell, talk show host Dr. Laura Schlessinger. I can't tell you how many LGBT people and their straight allies become absolutely paralyzed when they see that card hit the table.

Now look, I don't want folks messing with my deeply held religious beliefs. I don't believe for one minute that I was born with a black mark on my soul. I am a member in good standing at Temple Ner Tamid in Bloomfield NJ. I really like to think that if I am especially good that I might get a chance to get another ride through life --- I am so enjoying this one. So don't you go messing with me on these things I hold dear (or hope for dearly).

But when the DHRB card is played as "cover," the only fool is the one who folds. It is time for us to shout from the rooftops that a DHRB card gives no one an ounce of permission, an ounce of power to wield against minorities. And it is never a free pass to bully.

I have no doubt that many of you followed the trial of Dharun Ravi, the Rutgers student who had secretly filmed his roommate, Tyler Clementi, in his words "making out with a dude." This appeared to be the straw for Mr. Clementi who took his own life. Mr. Ravi was convicted of charges of bias and intimidation and sentenced to 30 days in prison. At first blush, you find yourself thinking "30 days?" The judge ruled that the incident was not hate based and could not fathom incarcerating Mr. Ravi with murderers and rapists. My point of view? Dharun Ravi is not a murderer; he is a bully. Like one of many bullies that Tyler Clementi faced during his young life.

Tyler Clementi's family can take some degree of solace in knowing that their son's tragic death spawned the "It Gets Better" movement launched by author Dan Savage. I'm sure you have all seen one or more of these videos. My 17 year old just finished the book – a compilation of the most moving narratives.

Dan was one of the first folks the media turned to for reaction to Ravi's sentencing. Dan captured the sentiment of many of us when he said:

What was he told about being gay growing up, by his faith leaders, by the media, by the culture?" Mr. Savage said. "Ravi may have been the last person who made him feel unsafe and abused and worthless, but he couldn't have been the first.

Ravi was one in a long line of bullies in Tyler Clementi's life. And as Dan said, those bullies were not just standing by his high school locker. Many of them were standing in pulpits.

My friend Cindy Sherman (the guidance counselor, not the artist) is in charge of the anti-bullying initiative at Bloomfield High School. She pointed me to websites that she uses in working with teachers and students. A particularly good one is easy to remember: stopbullying.gov.

What is it exactly? Bullying? "An imbalance of power to control or harm others. The use of this power REPEATEDLY."

Goodness. We can probably all look inward and see ourselves in that definition at one time or another.

I learned on this site that there are three kinds of bullying --- verbal, physical and what they call social or relational bullying --- damaging someone's reputation or relationship, spreading rumors, embarrassing in public, telling others to shun this person. I guess this was largely Ravi's crime. And it's the easiest and most cowardly because you don't have to have the nerve to say it directly to someone's face.

This social bullying is not just an individual crime as Dan Savage points out. It's an institutional crime. The government, schools in states that are hardly as progressive as New Jersey. And yes, houses of worship. As I see it, playing the DHRB card is a prime example of social bullying. And along with a deep seated fear of difference, is at the core of homophobia.

So as a result, this is what we hear:

"The Bible tells me that homosexuality is wrong and so I am sorry but I don't think you should be teaching my kids."

Sure, I know there are kids throughout the state of Florida languishing in foster care but the (PLAY THE DHRB CARD) homosexuality is wrong and kids should not grow up in gay households.

You get the idea.

Here's the other important thing I learned about bullying. Standing behind every harassed child is a whole lot of clueless adults.

I'd like you to consider that statement as it relates to the road to LGBT equality. Standing behind every LGBT person? A whole lot of clueless people. Our job? Well there are certain folks we'll never get. But converting the clueless is the path to victory. How? By sticking out.

I think gay and lesbian people walk this fine line. We want to tell these stories. We want folks to know the realities. But we want to fit in, to be treated like everyone else. We want to be just another couple at the neighborhood barbeque or the cantor at the synagogue. But in order to get the rights we deserve we have to talk. A lot. We need to tell our stories. We have to stick out.

And the challenge in that is so many of us never thought we'd ever even get the chance to fit in that we worry about risking it by sticking out.

I get that there is a risk in sticking out. And some people think that you can't live behind a white picket fence and stick out at the same time.

I'm here to tell you that you can.

And I'm here to tell you that we must. Or we will not win. Unless we tell our stories, we will not win. Until we know our facts, we will not win. Until we make ourselves a little uncomfortable, we will not win. Until we are willing to make others a little uncomfortable, we will not win.

An example. My nephew got married last year. Timothy Garry (did I mention that my family is Irish?) and his fiancée asked me to officiate their wedding. I was flattered and disconcerted all at the same time. But of course I said 'yes.' It went well. I did a really good job. And I wonder how many people there took note of the irony. I could marry my nephew but not Eileen.

Later, at the reception, there was this lovely moment. They asked all the married couples to come on to the dance floor. In increments of 5, they asked couples to remain on the dance floor if they'd been married 5 years, then 10 years, then 20, then 25, then 30.

Did we fit in or did we stick out? Eileen didn't want to hit the dance floor. "Married" they said, she whispered. I saw my brother, the father of the groom, looking at us, hopeful that we would join. And then Eileen did what she does so well. She paused. A good long time. At least it felt like that. Long enough for many eyes to turn in our direction. Progressive eyes. Pot smoking college buddies of my brother. The eyes of my Republican siblings. The eyes of my very Catholic mother. I watched as they connected the dots. Some of them perhaps mindful that I had just officiated the wedding. Eileen waited long enough to make everyone just a little bit uncomfortable. And then she stood up. And as the only same sex couple on the floor and one of the last remaining standing couples, we stuck out and fit in all at the same time.

So I guess what I am saying is this. It is time for those of us who are out to REALLY come out. To stick out. To make people a bit uncomfortable. To go out on a limb. To refuse to fold when the DHRB card gets played. To tell our stories.

To use a metaphor that should resonate here, the choir needs to study the sheet music, know it cold and sing at the top of our lungs.

And then we need to ask our straight allies to come out and sing, too. To come out as allies, to stand with us. Without our straight neighbors, family and friends, we will not win.

But we have a lot of work to do. Because far too often, straight progressive allies are either too complacent or are far too often are ill informed. Maybe we have misled people into thinking we have things we don't really have. Maybe it's not easy to tell a progressive they don't know everything. I'm not sure.

Well-meaning, progressive people have said to me: the struggle for gay equality is THE civil rights issue of our time. And when I then mention that the United States Commission on Civil Rights, the independent commission responsible for pushing LBJ toward the Voting Rights Act of 1964 does not include gay rights issues in its docket, those same people are stunned. As far as I'm concerned, if you fancy yourself progressive, you don't get the title without doing the work.

My current favorite straight progressive person who walks the walk? Vice President Joe Biden. First off, I ran a gay rights organization for nearly a decade (GLAAD) that was all about the power of media to change hearts and minds. So I'm kvelling when Biden says that Will and Grace had more influence than many other things in changing attitudes about LGBT people. But he doesn't stop there. Then he speaks from the heart, indicates his support for marriage equality and wins the prize for making people uncomfortable. In this case, every senior official at the White House. I love Joe Biden.

This is what it will take. And by the way, even when we lose, we win. An opportunity to argue about what is just and right and fair, even if we lose in the short term on certain issues, is an opportunity to be visible, to open up a few eyes and equally as many hearts.

One last story - The success of The Avengers at the box office has led me to consider the notion of superpowers. And my thoughts about superpowers strayed to my sexual orientation. I imagined that many people would see it as my kryptonite. As a liability. Something to overcome. And I could understand why. We are an unprotected minority – second class citizens.

But I do not believe that my sexual orientation is my kryptonite.

I see it as my super power.

I would guess that a lot of folks, gay and straight, would think that if gay people were given one wish, it would be to become straight. Not me. Not now. Not ever.

You see, I have a perspective and a view of the world that is clearer and enriched by my difference.  I take less for granted.  Eileen and I created our family with intention.  We had to be bold. We chose to stick out. We made choices that were not easy.  I came out to my parents and traveled a journey with them that enriched every member of my family.  And I am a stronger person having dealt with Eileen's parents who, in 25 years, never spoke my name.

It is because of my difference that I have found my voice. That I have chosen work that matters. And that my commitment to social justice feels so urgent.

These are the kind of gifts that come with diversity.

And by the way, the movement for gay and lesbian equality IS the civil rights movement of our time. It presents us all with an opportunity to speak out, stand up and to do something. I think that may be why they call it a movement.

Thanks so much for having me here.

© 2012 Joan M. Garry

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

Black History and the Episcopal Church

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

February overlaps the church season of Epiphany with the National observance of Black History Month. The word Epiphany means Manifestation and is used in this season to show the various ways Jesus manifested God in his life and ministry. One of the ways we're reading about often in the Gospel chosen for these weeks is in healing.

Black History Month began as Negro History Week in 1926, having been started by historian Carter G. Woodson. In 1976 February was designated Black History Month for the US and Canada. England observes Black History Month in October. In many ways this observance is healing too. The history books in America have long been written from the perspective of the accomplishments of European Americans, to the extent that contributions made by African Americans to science, medicine, culture, literature, exploration, business, indeed any aspect of our national history were systematically ignored or glossed over. History is the story of a people who live together and it needs to be told in a balanced and proud way. To exclude anyone for any reason is a disservice to the one ignored and even more so to the one who never learns about them. Pieces of our historical puzzle are missing when we leave out any group of people.

Black History Month addresses in small part the injustice of omission not only to African Americans who have a right to cherish the contributions of other African Americans in history, but to European Americans and Americans of any ethnic background, who have a right to better understand the richness of our interwoven lives.

There is seemingly a fear that the greatness of one people diminishes the greatness of another. That fear is a sickness that needs healing. The risen Lord who heals the sick and drives out the unclean spirits is a good place to look for such a healing.

Last week we read about Jesus healing the man in the synagogue of an unclean spirit. Today we read about Jesus healing Peter's mother-in-law first and then many people from the town who came after they heard what happened. Sometimes people want to see proof of healing before they open themselves up to it. As the words of Jesus' healing spread, so did the hope of the people who needed it and they came looking for it themselves. Jesus proclaimed the message of healing through God's love and kept going from town to town to proclaim it even further. Hopefully that's a message we continue to preach here.

I've always liked history and enjoyed brushing up on aspects of history within the Episcopal church that involved specific reference to African Americans. There are particular people who usually get highlighted. Absalom Jones, the first African American priest, was ordained in 1804 in Philadelphia, Barbara Harris, an African American woman who was the first woman to be consecrated a bishop in 1989. People are generally know if they are the trail blazers or "firsts" of anything.

But there are also historical trends that are important to point out also. For example, prior to the Civil War the Episcopal church was very strong in this country. That period was also before the influx of Roman Catholic immigrants so the Protestant Church in general was very strong, and the Episcopal church in particular was strong in the North and South, and the denomination of choice for those high in social circles, business and politics.

The Evangelical fervor that hit the United States was identified often with the Methodist Church, itself an offshoot of the Church of England, and whose co-founder John Wesley coined a phrase when he described his acceptance of God's grace as his heart being strangely warmed.

Episcopalians of high theology were considered people of the intellect, rational in their decisions and not swayed by sentimental emotionalism. The evangelical's warm hearts however, worked into the Episcopal church creating a similar tensions to those that always exist between head and heart.

Evangelical Episcopalians of the 1800's did a lot of work among the slave population and a large number of slaves became Christian through the Episcopal Church. But it was still very segregated. I've told this story before but I think it bears repeating, that as the Abolition movement got stronger the strains were felt in the Episcopal Church reflecting the growing conflicts in the general population. Conservative Episcopalians wanted to stay out of the debate while Evangelical Episcopalians insisted that the church needed to proclaim it's prophetic voice. The symbol of the Evangelical church's desire to speak on secular issues was the America flag hung in the churches. When Trinity Church on Wall Street allowed the American flag inside the congregation was aghast.

Phillips Brooks, an Episcopal priest know among other things for writing O Little Town of Bethlehem, was a fiery Evangelical preacher who railed against the fear of speaking out against slavery and wrote about one particular convention where no statement was made: Its shilly-shallying was disgraceful. It was ludicrous, if not sad, to see those old gentlemen sitting there for fourteen days trying to make out whether there was a war going on or not, and whether if there was it would be safe for them to say so."

More and more churches hung the flag in the church and the conservative voices relented to this trend but similarly insisted that the Episcopal flag also be hung so we don't forget the place of God in the conversation. And there they hang to this very day. But most Episcopalians have no idea why. History is a way of telling stories that need to be told. Our lives are richer because of them.

The Episcopal Church split during the Civil War but reunited after the war. The toll taken was high in so many ways, not the least of which was among church membership which had become disillusioned by war and suffering and bitter hatred between fellow citizens. The work among African Americans in the evangelical wave was lost as the country spent its time rebuilding itself. Segregation in the church continued and many opportunities for God's healing were lost. The Episcopal Church treated African Americans as a problem: culturally and socially separated and inferior, but by baptism, full and equal members of the community. The Church tried to mend this breach by ministering to black Americans separately, consecrating bishops for "colored work", funding black colleges, establishing black congregations, and operating a special office for "Negro work." In short, the Episcopal Church fully embraced the American "separate but equal" construct of race relations.

The history of race relations in the Episcopal church has a lot of pain in it. It also has a lot of hope and reconciling grace in it as well. We need to build a strong future on the solid ground of truth. A lot of work has been done and much more remains to be done. Healing has happened in the body of Christ among its varied members and like those in the Gospel lesson people keep getting drawn to it even more. Amen.

© 2012 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

9/12

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gentiles and Tax Collectors??

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeds Will Wait

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

A Prophet's Reward

By the Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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