Choir Recognition Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

On certain Sundays it seems like there is a lot of surprises. Here we are in the Resource Center. We expected to have our services disrupted because of the renovations but not this soon. This Sunday had been chosen some time ago to be the Choir's last Sunday before the Summer break when we had good reason to believe that the scaffolding would go up later in the month. Who would have expected construction to proceed ahead of schedule? Miracles do happen!

And so here we are, recognizing the choir's ministry in this space away from the grand instrument which provides the backbone of the music program. Or does it? It's often said that if you want to make God laugh, make a plan. When plans get disrupted, it's a nice opportunity to take a look at what God might be saying in between the lines of what's expected and what happens.

In this space, I think God may be saying that the music we makes comes from our hearts and voices and that no matter where we are the sincerity of that music is what makes it strong. Strength comes from the community of singers. Choirs lead the community's prayerful song. This ministry is extremely important not as performance but as providing shape and tone to our prayer in rhythms and measures that balance with the spoken word of scripture, creed and blessing.

Our choir does it well. And on behalf of the congregation I thank you for your time, commitment and the depth of spirit you bring to your music and our prayer. You have had an emotional and roller coaster season this year. Learning of the departure of one music director, the sadness of goodbyes and the grief of a friendship transferring to one of distance. Graciously you bid Michael Godspeed in his new work and entered into the most demanding and sacred times of the liturgical year with an interim. St. George's knows something about interims. And if anything is clear, it's that the strength of the community comes to the surface at such times. Again you were at the forefront of that and together with a talented and promising interim, the quality of your spirit and work helped the whole community continue to sing and pray twice through song.

We are blessed with the new ministry of Christopher Jennings among us, and as Sonny and Cher once sang to us, The Beat Goes On! I would love to spend a great deal of time developing the symphonic metaphor of ministries at St. George's working in harmony, but I won't. Suffice it to say that the choir is an important ministry in the liturgy we love so much, and together with the readers, intercessors, healing ministries, altar guild, acolytes, Eucharistic ministers, ushers and greeters, hospitality, office workers, people in the pews, perhaps even clergy -- we give shape and voice, leading the worship and community at prayer. Later today some of us will join a Diocesan service celebrating the ministries of senior members of our churches. St. George's has put forward the names of Susan Mangasarian and Hubert Pierson for recognition of their long years of service to this church, and they will be thanked and honored among members of other churches.

It is a sacred work we do, and I know it's pleasing to God. Not in a way that feeds a celestial ego, but because it participates in a flow of divine love enveloping the world so torn and in pain. Our prayer reaches out in ways we can't understand while at the same time reaching in to strengthen us in our lives and the movements and cycles of our various worlds. We are better people walking out of here than when we walked in because we slowed down long enough to form in prayer before God, we listen, sing, pray, share in communion and draw on the love of God to infuse us with what it takes to live and move and have our being in this world.

The lessons this morning give some rather harsh pictures of sin. First of all there's David. The greatest King in the history of Israel. The first line of our lesson says "The thing that David did displeased the Lord..." Well, the "thing" that David did was to put the husband of his mistress in the front lines of battle so he’d be killed and David could marry the women who had become pregnant with his child. The prophet Nathan was given the uncomfortable job of confronting David with his behavior and did so imaginatively and bequeathed to humanity the immortal declaration of self discovered guilt, "Thou art the man!" David's remorse at his own actions demonstrate an ability to face his own selfishness and cruelty, irresponsibility and abuse of power. He became a better man and a better king through this, but the tragic price tag of this lesson left a jagged scar on his life and those close to him. (The writer of these scriptures sees the death of the infant as God's judgement and punishment of David. I don't believe God to be so vindictive, but I can certainly understand how those so close to the scene could interpret it that way.)

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus is the dinner guest of a Pharisee who arrogantly disdains a woman he considers sinful as she weeps and washes Jesus' feet. Whether or not her sins were as egregious as the Pharisee thought, her coming to Jesus demonstrated her own facing of what she considered her sin in a moment of intimate connection with her Lord. The subsequent conversation between Jesus and the Pharisee showed that whatever her sin, it was quite small in comparison to the Pharisee who played the unforgiving, self righteous and unrepentant judge.

The topic of sin is a difficult one, but one that is important to consider. Sin is not about breaking laws and a heavenly balancing of accounts, but it has to do with losing perspective on how God's love calls us into relationship with ourselves and each other. There are many things that lead us into sin -- greed, lust, insecurity, fear, envy, to name a few of the big tickets. From small to large scales we sometimes take actions that demean ourselves and very often harm others physically, financially or spiritually. We sacrifice our integrity and honor, hoping to achieve something that at the time seems worth the cost. It never is. And we can face the truth or live in denial, but either way we are the man or the woman who needs to face the mistake we made or the crime we committed. Confession and forgiveness are the balm to those wounds. God's love embraces and welcomes back into relationship those who have taken themselves out of it by their own actions. In our liturgy we have a general confession. For deeper concerns there is private confession available with a priest. As your parish priest I invite you to consider private confessions with me. If you prefer the anonymity of confession with another priest I can facilitate that quite happily. Like the music we love so much, I believe God's will for us is to live in harmony with ourselves and each other. When it's interrupted, we can always return. That's one of God's promises delivered through the life and ministry of Jesus.

In this wonderful place we conduct our lives and ministry with disruptions, rebuilding, remodeling and renovation. We pray, we sing, we work, we eat, laugh, sometime argue and fall out of community. When we can face ourselves and each other after wrongs or hurts we come back to the community that strengthens us and deepens our understanding and devotion to the God who made us and loves us. Amen.

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

Mother's Day

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the collect this morning we prayed, "O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding..." Much of our lives and the spiritual journeys we take open us up deeper and deeper into the mysteries of those very things which God promises to us which are beyond our understanding. When we pray, we allow our spirits the freedom to expand our understanding. When we meditate, it's the same thing. When we study scripture or any material that calls our spirit out, we are expanding our understanding of God. And as much as it expands, and as far as our imaginings and understanding take us, so much deeper and deeper is God, and even further than that, so much deeper and deeper is God's love for us. How far will you go for understanding? How much time will you devote, or lengths will you go to expand your understanding of God's love?

Such a quest brought Paul to many places, meeting many people and establishing churches. He risked much and suffered much, but kept going because the call was so intense and the relationship to God so endearing. In our first lesson we read how that call drew him to Macedonia, current day Greece. In this lesson he met Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth. It's an interesting detail that the writer of Acts gives us about her, clearly it's an indication that she was wealthy and influential. Purple cloth was rare and expensive since the dyes were extremely difficult to make. To be a dealer in this cloth was lucrative. Even further than that, to be a woman in this business in that time was very rare indeed. Paul, drawn to Greece in a dream, was drawn by the river to a place of prayer was to be expected and met this woman. After their conversation, she and her household were baptized. That must have been quite a conversation! And as amazing as the story is, what is more amazing to me is Paul's openness to going in the first place. It's beyond understanding.

In the book of Revelation, St. John the Divine gives a picture of heaven that evokes images we see in the book of Isaiah. The throne of God with rivers of crystal flowing from it, trees symbolic in number and bearing fruit with mystical purposes of healing the nations. It's a picture of heaven that has no sun, since the glory of God is the only light that's needed and is by far and a way brighter than any in the sky. There is so much in the book of Revelation that is beyond understanding, but is speaks in the language of mystery and symbol. It draws us deeper into that mystery, teasing our imaginations to picture this wonder.

The Gospel lesson is also beyond understanding. How a paralyzed man can be healed with a word. Jesus saw him and told him to take up his mat and walk. For so many years the man sat so close to this miraculous pool, known for it's healing properties, and he was unable to get to it in time. Trying desperately to find elusive healing and Jesus comes to him and accomplishes it with a word. It's beyond understanding.

In each of these stories, Paul, Lydia, John, and the man by the pool called Bethzatha, wanted to know more. They pursued the information and experiences of God. Yet it was with the help of God and another person that they went beyond their previous understanding and deeper into God's mystery and love.

I believe that we all share a hunger deep in our spirits. This hunger is for God, we're fascinated by God and drawn to a deep spiritual quality of living. We all have a certain level of understanding, most of which were formed in Sunday school when we were children, and then in various other pursuits along the way. But there's always more to read or hear or experience. Sometime that can be frustrating. They say that being and expert is knowing more and more about less and less, or that the more we know about something, the more we're aware of what we don't know. When the subject of our inquiry is God, that can indeed be frustrating. Sometimes we might feel like the man by the pool, paralyzed but so close to this healing that we can't stay away and yet somehow can't seem to get closer.

If getting to know God beyond our understanding is our goal, the first thing to grasp is that we cannot do it alone. We get to know God with God's help and with the help of each other. Like Paul and Lydia sitting by the river, it's often done in conversation. Sharing experiences, thoughts, prayers, this is how we get to know God.

I remember a long time ago wanting to know about prayer once. I wanted to get it right so I read about it, went to workshops and listen to speakers supposing that someone else could give me the definitive words or understanding. To some degree, someone did. Jesus taught his disciples in the words of the Lord's Prayer. And, in fact it can be that simple. But finally the realization dawned on me that, in learning about prayer, the best way is to pray. No amount of books or lectures can substitute for the prayer itself. There are no magic words, just sincerity and desire to be with God in silence. Often words just get in the way anyway. St. Francis once said "Pray constantly and only if you must, use words." Sometimes the desire to want to do something perfectly creates a form of paralysis all its own. Wanting to be perfect at the start prevents us from trying at all.

I heard a lecture recently about the New Testament, specifically about the sources available for study. The lecturer outlined the possibilities and they are surprisingly few. We have the collected book in our Bible, we have a couple brief references to Jesus in histories written by Jewish historians within the first century and no references in secular history. The lecturer went on to say that the beginning student imagines libraries full of available texts and references and is shocked to discover so few. His point was that all the intervening books are drawn from the same sources available to all of us. The greatest scholars in the world have at their disposal the same books and references we do. What they bring to it is their time and inquiry.

As we sit here this morning, we see evidence of renewal. Construction is happening in here and downstairs and in various other places. It's exciting to see the changes occurring and at this point imagine what the finished product will look like. We're very much like this building, in our prayer and understanding of God we're also under construction. But it's happening and nothing can really stop us, not even the paralysis we may sometimes feel. Since with even a word Jesus can come to us and tell us to get up and walk. The man near the pool called Bethzatha had the luxury of the physical Jesus calling to him. The rest of us have the silent tug at our hearts and spirits calling us onward and deeper through a hunger of the soul.

When going on a trip overseas, we can read all the travel books we want but in the end there's no substitute for the trip itself. In the lives of our faith and journey to God, the same holds true. There is no substitute for our own prayer and conversation with each other to go beyond our understanding into God's love. Amen.

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

Mother's Day Proclamation

Arise, then, women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. "Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

- Julia Ward Howe

Wondrous Love

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul? What wondrous love is this, O my soul? What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss, to lay aside his crown for my soul, for my soul, to lay aside his crown for my soul?"

This hymn is one of haunting beauty and draws us into the mystery of God. It is a wondrous love that calls us and embraces us. A wondrous love that inspires us and strengthens us to discern and then follow God's call.

During the season of Easter our first lesson is generally taken from the Book of the Acts of the Apostles. This book tells of the early struggles and discoveries of the fledgling Christian church. The writer never identifies himself by name, but clearly continues the narrative of the Gospel we ascribe to Luke. It's clear that he worked with both Peter and Paul and his chronicle is concerned, not so much with them as with the gospel being proclaimed. In fact the culmination of the book is the preaching of the Gospel in Rome by Paul. The triumph does not belong to the apostles, but God in this work. Peter and Paul are not the stars of this story, but supporting cast. It is always God at the center.

Our first lesson is taken from the Book of Acts and begins to describe the first crisis the church faced. It was to become the definitive problem over the centuries and continues today. It manifests itself differently, but at root is the same issue, namely -- who is in and who is out.

In this lesson, Peter was brought before the other apostles to explain his actions. Ever the impetuous one, Peter acted without consulting the others and what he did, crossed the line in their eyes. He did the unthinkable. He baptized Gentiles. I'll give you a moment to recover.

It seems laughable to us today, but at that time, the apostles understood Jesus to have been the Messiah to the Jews. If you were outside the Jewish community the Messiah had no relevance, since the purpose of the Messiah was to restore the nation of Israel. If a Gentile wanted to convert to Judaism, that would be a different story, but even then the process of conversion was long and required deep commitment to learn the laws, the traditions, and the scriptures.

In baptizing the Gentiles without any of this preparation, Peter undermined the purity of the faith and the Apostles needed to hear his explanation. In response Peter told them about his dream in which God told him to call nothing unclean. The unfolding of the dream and subsequent events led Peter to believe that this new community of faith called into being by Jesus was going to transcend everything they knew, and that included their old traditions and understanding. It was, to use a contemporary phrase, a "radical welcome" into a community that had once excluded others.

The other apostles initially warmed to this idea until it became apparent that the older traditions really were being put aside in favor of creating something totally new and unfamiliar. This argument was to be held again and again. Peter himself waffled on the issue after further debate. Paul comes onto the scene later as the staunchest advocate of the new church which redefined the old ways. Paul himself had been a zealous Pharisee and the most unlikely advocate of change, and yet God called him into this new life and understanding.

But as in all things, time passes. Peter and Paul, all their work and adventures, even their lives had long ended by the time the writer of Revelation took up his pen. From his prison on the island of Patmos, John saw the growth of the Christian church, its struggles from within and its persecution from outside. Imprisoned because of his faith he wrote, "I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more... the one who was seated on the throne said, 'See, I am making all things new.'..."

One of the reasons these lessons are important because they keep reminding us that the community of faith looks to God for the directions we need to go. Our church and society are full of changes inside out and people often look to the church as a symbol of changelessness in an ever changing world. But that is not reality. The Christian church changes significantly in ways that can be debated to be healthy or not. But at the core of any faith is the conviction that God is present in that change, inspiring, calling, leading and guiding.

Today we don't get bothered at all by baptizing Gentiles. But we have many other issues. There are issues from the shape, look and sound of worship to the most ancient of issues, who's in and who's out? Who can be part of the faith and who can't. We struggle over polity and authority. We fall into the trap of competition for followers. I sometimes wonder if we are spending too much time promoting a particular church -- and not enough time promoting God.

In the Gospel lesson from this morning, we see Jesus at the last supper giving his commandment to love one another. At this point, the reader knows something the disciples don't, namely that Jesus is about to be taken away and the events of Holy Week will unfold. Their lives will shortly change dramatically and totally. But even in the changes that were about to occur, his commandment was what would equip them for the changes about to happen. "Love one another as I have loved you." At that point, the disciples had no idea how wondrous that love was. But they would discover it shortly and the depth of that love would propel them into the world changed and prepared for the struggles and challenges ahead.

Once in a while when I'm feeling nostalgic I'll look at old pictures and year books. Sometimes I'm struck by some of the notes written in by friends from long ago. One well wisher wrote, "don't ever change." While meant with the best intentions, I'm sure, what a terrible thing that would have been! The intervening years have brought much change, some hard but most have been exciting and wonderful. I wouldn't have wanted to miss any of it. I suppose the core of her comment had to do with the quality of friendship we had and the love present in that friendship.

In a world of change, we must change also. Our anchor in the storm is not so much our beloved traditions, as much as our faith that God is still our companion along the way. It's the love, that wondrous love, which stabilizes us -- the love God has for us and the love we have for one another as God has loved us. Too often we react to change with fear and grief of loss. God's call to the early disciples and to us later disciples is to walk boldly into the new heaven and earth created anew and unfolding every day with the joy of possibility and the gratitude of discovery.

Amen.

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

Sheep and Shepherds

By Thomas Murphy, Seminarian Intern

It's hard to believe that it's the Fourth Sunday of Easter already. It was a wonderful Easter celebration here at St. George's. I missed Maundy Thursday, but Good Friday was a powerful service and it was an amazing experience to enter the darkened church for the Easter Vigil. On Easter Sunday morning, I think the family service was my favorite with a very convincing Roman centurion outside telling all of us there was nothing to see here -- and then letting us in on some surprising information -- the tomb of Jesus of Nazareth was empty. And don't get me started on the release of the "Alleluia Bugs"! It was a wonderful, joyous time.

But then the weeks roll by and pretty quickly things get back to normal -- the usual challenges, messes and small joys of life. And even in church, although it's still the Easter season we can easily shift into cruise control and not pay much attention to what's happening week after week. And so it would be very easy for us to roll past Good Shepherd Sunday and not give it a second thought.

What we celebrate today is profound, beautiful and challenging. Jesus is both sheep and shepherd. And so are we. We are both sheep and shepherd.

I have to admit that much of the shepherd/sheep imagery in the Bible is a real problem for me. First of all, I find it difficult to relate. Having lived in the city my whole life, my encounters with sheep have been few and far between -- maybe just a couple of trips to the Turtle Back Zoo when I was a kid. Cats, squirrels, and pigeons I know -- sheep not so much. And I'm pretty sure I've never seen a shepherd in person.

Second, from the little I do know, sheep are inoffensive but not the brightest of animals in God's creation. Somehow, it seems a little insulting to be compared to a sheep. Just the other night I was flipping through the channels and came across a documentary about dogs. Part of the show focused on sheepdogs in England who have learned dozens of commands whistled by the shepherd. These clever dogs are able to move and corral the seemingly mindless sheep without a bit of trouble.

But, the sheep/shepherd imagery pops up throughout the Bible and is found all over Christianity. Obviously, it lives on in bishops' staffs and the title "pastor." Over at General Seminary for the past three years I have sat in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd and looked at the statue of Jesus the Good Shepherd which stands just behind the altar. In the statue, Jesus looks down lovingly at the little lamb that he holds in his arms. I've tried to warm up to the image, but even after three years it still seems too saccharine for my tastes. I don't like to think of myself as a little lamb or a dumb sheep.

So what's a seminarian to do? What's a Christian to do? Well, if like me, you struggle with the sheep image today's lessons powerfully show us that there's nothing saccharine about it. The author of Revelation writes "For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd." If we're not paying attention, it's easy to miss what's being said here. Jesus is both sheep and shepherd. Jesus gives his life on the cross and Jesus leads us into eternal life. Jesus is both sheep and shepherd. And the truth is, whether we like it or not, we're sheep all right -- but we are also called to be shepherds.

In last Sunday's gospel lesson we heard, "Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep."

And now today's reading from the Acts of the Apostles is sort of a sequel to last week's gospel lesson. Acts records a very powerful, miraculous way that Peter took up the work of feeding Jesus' sheep -- the raising of the disciple Tabitha from the dead. Peter has been a sheep, all right. We've seen Peter have trouble understanding Jesus' message. Most painfully, we've seen Peter abandon the Lord and deny him three times. And yet, Jesus the Good Shepherd never gives up on Peter, despite his stumbling and despite his failures. Finally, although Peter will indeed remain a sheep all his life, yet he is also called to be a shepherd. And the same is true for us -- you and I are both sheep and shepherds.

It is our arrogance that leads us to deny our sheep-like quality. Too often we like to think we're smarter than we are. We like to think that we've pretty much got everything figured out. Some of that fades as we mature -- but not all of it. Especially in our own time when science continues to push the boundaries of our knowledge, it's all too easy to fall into the arrogant trap of thinking we've pretty much got everything figured out -- that we're in charge. I would guess that sheep don't much consider that there is a big world beyond their own pasture -- to them they know all that's really worth knowing. They've got it all figured out. I suspect we're not so different- although we should be. This arrogance and sinfulness usually leads to at least embarrassment and at worst disaster.

I'm reminded of how in the 19th Century supposedly there was a proposal to close up the US Patent Office because, well, pretty much everything had been invented. That kind of arrogance and short-sightedness is just funny now, but as we think about our own lives how many times has our own arrogance led us to embarrassment or led us to hurt others and ultimately hurt ourselves? The ancient Greek philosophers and writers understood this very well when they described how hubris -- excessive pride -- led to the downfall of so many.

But it's not just the idea that we've figured everything out -- many of us also suffer under the illusion of control. If you've been around a while you've probably learned that actually we have very little control, but we still seem to forget. Quite a few times I've visited people in the hospital who express great anger and shock that they have lost so much control of their lives. But really they've just been forced to recognize what's been true all along.

For me the road to ordination has been a vivid example of a lack of control. Step by step Chris Carroll, myself, all of us in the ordination process, have been at the mercy of others who say yes or no about our futures. No control, not always fun, often stressful, but a good lesson to remember. We sheep are not in control.

But, fellow sheep, the good news this morning is that the Lord is our shepherd. The 23rd Psalm -- which has comforted so many -- affirms that God is with us in our distress. God is with in the times that our stupidity and arrogance get us into trouble. God's rod and staff comfort us. The Good Shepherd's goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives. So maybe it's not so bad to be a sheep after all!

But, we are not just sheep. We are also called to be shepherds. Peter was commanded by Jesus to feed and tend the sheep, and so too we are expected to feed and look after one another. In the Episcopal Church this is actually fairly easy to remember because we have become so centered in baptism and the Baptismal Covenant. During a baptism everyone assembled promises to support the newly baptized in their life in Christ. We promise to be shepherds.

In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. We promise to seek and serve God in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. We promise to strive for justice sand peace among all people and to respect the dignity of every human being. We promise to be shepherds.

In our baptism we -- lowly sheep that we are -- are called to be shepherds. All of us -- not just bishops with their staffs -- not just people with the title pastor -- all of us sheep are also called to be shepherds. We are all called to take part in the work of Jesus Christ in the world. We are called to tend our fellow sheep. It is a daunting task, but we know that the Good Shepherd, the One Shepherd of All, is guiding our work and walking with us all the days of our life.

As this sheep gets ready to move on to a new, yet-to-be-known pasture, I've been reflecting on my too brief time here at St. George's. I've been in an interesting position of being part of the community -- you've been wonderfully welcoming -- but also still something of an outsider. And so maybe I can see you a little more clearly than you can see yourselves.

I have seen wonderful sheep-shepherds all over this church. One of the reasons I came here was to get a sense of suburban life. I could go on about all the things I've observed and learned in these past few months but most of all I've been impressed by your diversity -- in all sorts of ways. But, considering the disagreements that are causing so much pain in the Episcopal Church, I have been deeply moved and comforted by the bonds of care between straight and gay people here. Sexual orientation seems to make little difference -- the people of St. George's are all sheep-shepherds trying to serve God and take care of one another. The genuine care for one another in this place has been a joy and inspiration to experience. I am very grateful.

So on this joyous Fourth Sunday of Easter let us all pray that we open ourselves to the saving truth that we are all sheep cared for and loved by the Good Shepherd. And let us pray that we will open ourselves to the truth that we are all shepherds called to care and love one another.

Amen.

© 2007 Thomas Murphy

Feed my sheep

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel stories, when Jesus was first starting out, he walked along the lake and came to some fishermen in the boats with their fathers. One of the boats was owned by a man named Zebadee and his sons were named James and John. Jesus walked up to them and simply said, "Follow me." The left everything and followed him. Further along the shore he came to another boat where the fishermen were named Peter and Andrew, they were also brothers. And again, Jesus said, "Follow me." They also left everything and followed him. Jesus told them that from that point on, they would be fishers of people.

And so it began, a ministry that lasted three years. During that time so much happened, so much traveling around, so many people, gatherings, challenges. There were miracles and wonders, healing and signs, but always Jesus there to make things right. Jesus was there to teach them, to guide them and love them. He loved them even when they were foolish, when they didn't get the point of his lessons, when they failed at their tasks, when they were ambitious and argued among themselves. He loved them when they ran off into the night and left him alone while he was arrested. He loved them from the cross as he hung dying, forgiving them for their desertion. Forgiving them for their denial and betrayal.

When he rose form the dead, it was another miracle and still they didn't really seem to get the point. It must have seemed like déja vu when the two sets of brothers returned to their fishing boats and a man walked up to them. He called out from the shore asking them if they caught anything. They replied, "No." He called out again, this time suggesting they drop their nets on the other side of the boat.

I wonder if they began to sense something at that point. After all, the first time they met Jesus, he said the same thing. "Drop the net on the other side." As though they didn't get the point the second time, the net filled again and they needed help to get the fish ashore -- just like the first time.

But this time, Peter did understand who it was and panicked. In a fairly comic scene, he was suddenly ashamed of being naked on this boat while he fished and in a fit of modesty both put on his clothes and jumped into the water. It seems to me either would have sufficed to deal with his modesty. The scriptures also tell of another man who was ashamed of his nakedness before the Lord. Oh yes, that was Adam. He had something to be ashamed of and tried to hide from his naked truth. God wasn't fooled then, and Jesus wasn't fooled by Peter's shame at his naked truth. Peter had to feel exposed, not so much by his nakedness from clothing, but even more so from the nakedness of the truth that he denied Jesus in the courtyard after he was arrested. He had to look Jesus in the eye knowing that he promised to stand by him, even to death if that was necessary, and only moments later ran away, hid, and then lied about knowing Jesus. The man on the shore saw Peter in his nakedness and shame. There were no clothes or amount of water that would have concealed that naked truth.

When they came to shore, Jesus asked Peter three time, "Do you love me." And three times Peter answered "Yes, you know I love you." And with each admission of love, Jesus told him to "Feed his sheep." Peter got agitated that Jesus asked him three times, "Do you love me." Again he seemed to miss the point. One question for each denial. With each admission of love, Jesus allowed him to erase the nakedness of the truth that Peter had betrayed him. With each instruction to feed his sheep, Jesus called him back into relationship and mission. And just like he did three years earlier on the shore by the boats, he said, "Follow me."

God calls us, and that's that. God loves us, and that's that. God sends us out, and that's that. We don't have to worry about being worthy, we're not. We don't have to worry about being the brightest in the boat, we're not. We don't have to be worried about our naked truth before God, he knows it, and if need be, heals it.

Peter didn't deserve a second chance, but he got one. Paul, in his zealous righteousness oversaw the persecution of the early Christian believers and he didn't deserve a second chance either. Imperfect, difficult men that anyone else would have fired, sued, or at the very least shunned. But here Jesus not only forgave, but sent them out on missions. He modeled compassion, he modeled love.

There is not a person among us that Jesus isn't calling. Each of us has our truths and realities that make us feel unworthy or unlovable, but the wonderful thing about Peter and Paul is that if God can love them, God can love us. There may be no accounting for taste, but there is the blessed news that God calls us to follow, and places in our care the most precious of gifts -- God's sheep. Feed my sheep. The lonely, the poor, the sick, the needy, the hopeless, the helpless, the fearful and the unworthy. Love as we have been loved, forgive as we have been forgiven, call as we have been called.

In the early 1960's there was a wonderful TV show imported from Britain called The Avengers. In the sophisticated world of Cold War espionage secret agents John Steed and Emma Peel kept us all safe from harm. Each adventure would begin with Mrs. Peel going about her daily activities, when she would be surprised by a note of some sort with the words written by John Steed saying, "You're needed." From that simple call emerged an adventure ultimately saving the world from some diabolical fate.

Well friends, we're needed. Jesus wants us to do something quite simple. It seems he wants us to feed his sheep. In a world where a troubled youth can kill over 30 people and wound almost as many on a college campus supposed to be safe, in a world where not even that can convince legislators of the need to regulate and ban guns more effectively, in a world of terror and fear, where politics plays loose with justice, we are needed. Far from the comic threats faced by the Avengers, our world reels in suffering of staggering proportion. And we are needed to answer Jesus' call. We are to witness God's love, to work in ways that reflect God's mercy, to give to the relief of God's people, to pray and to claim the healing that God offers all God's children.

Jesus told Peter that when he was old, someone would fasten a belt around him and take him where he did not wish to go. Like Peter, sometimes it seems like we are in places we do not want to be and called to do things we would rather not. But if we respond to the call to "follow" we must do so trusting that God will see us through to our journeys end.

Last week I told you that I was going to Washington DC at the invitation of the Human Rights Campaign, an advocacy organization for the rights of Gay and Lesbian people. I was one of 250 clergy from all faiths and denominations representing all 50 states. Each of us was grouped with the others from our states and scheduled to visit our senators and representatives and lobby their support for Employment non-discrimination and the inclusion of "Sexual orientation" among the list of those covered by hate crimes laws. Not having done this before, and being somewhat out of my comfort zone, I took some measure of relief in the knowledge that I was one of six clergy from New Jersey and that I would happily step to the back of the group in the role of supportive window dressing. (I'm not totally ignorant of the political process, and fully understand the importance of the ministry of silent presence.) Imagine my concern to discover that four of the six of us were absent due to the flooding from last week. Gulping hard, I looked to the other priest grateful that, given his earlier bravado, he would surely want this spotlight, and I would be very supportive. Imagine my panic when he, also a neophyte in this work, became overwhelmed and disappeared from our assembly without a word. I was gripped by the awful realization that I alone would carry the standard for New Jersey. Not even the staff person assigned to help me could go into the offices with me. I was on my own. Well, no one fastened a belt around me, in fact ironically I forgot to pack my belt, and felt very self conscious by this, believing that the eagle eyes of our legislators would see this missing accessory as a poor reflection of my credibility. In any event, even though there was no belt, they did take me where I did not want to go.

So, feeling improperly dressed, abandoned by my fellow clergy, poorly prepared for the rigors no doubt awaiting, I went into my first meeting like Daniel into the lion's den.

Well, I can attest to the power of prayer. No doubt the effectiveness of the Evening Prayer and vigil in support of this trip held in this church last week rescued me from the fate I had imagined as swiftly as God did save Daniel from the Lion. Each of the legislators and staff people that I met could not have been nicer or more receptive to my visit, even I must say in fairness, those of the party I did not support in the last election.

Each visit increased my awareness of the political process in a way I had not experienced before, and each visit increased my awareness of how quickly I still forget God's gentle call to follow. I don't have to be comfortable, I don't have to be dressed properly, I don't have to hide in the crowd or be fortified with all the possible answers to the myriad of questions I imagined. All I had to do was care and believe in what I was there for. "Feed my sheep," Jesus said. Wherever, whenever, comfortable or not, prepared or not, our faith and concern is all the armor we need to do the work God calls us to do.

I suspect that not all the challenges I face will be as easy as the one last week, but it's another example of God calling us and telling us to try something different, perhaps something as simple as dropping the net on the other side of the boat. But whether we face the greatest of tragedies, the greatest of challenges, or even those no where near as bad as we had imagined, God is with us and loves us and will see us through. We don't need to jump in the water, or hide, just follow. Amen.

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

Easter Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Welcome Festival Day, the Easter hymn begins. And it is a welcome day. Wonderfully decorated, polished wood, beautifully arranged flowers, special music. And all of you, welcome. We come from all over, regular members, visiting neighbors and out of town guests. We are drawn to this wonderful day to touch the majesty and mystery of the day of Resurrection. No matter where we're from, it's important through our preparations to have a tangible expression of welcome to this ancient wonder made new through our celebration and worship.

Two thousand years ago, in the quiet of the morning, before anyone was awake, a man who had been killed brutally sat up and walked again. Legends would grow about what happened between the declaration of death on the cross and the discovery of the empty tomb. Wonderful tales of the victorious Christ marching through the gates of hell, destroying those gates and releasing the faithful captured by the power of destructive and hopeless death.

Other tales are of the rest, the Sabbath rest of the Messiah preparing for the next phase of his ministry. After Creation in the beginning, God rested. After the re-creation of the faithful, God rested again. No one saw him rise or leave the tomb, the witnesses arrived after sun up and found the tomb empty. In Luke's telling of the story, two men in dazzling clothes appeared and told them Jesus had risen. Tell the others, they were told.

Heads swirling with all this strange information, the women went back to tell the disciples of Jesus what they found. Luke tells us the disciples dismissed this as an "idle tale." I've always found that description to be very peculiar. An "idle tale" as though the women were in need of some mischievous fun and thought they would fool the disciples with a prank.

If there are any who have earned the right of credibility, it is these very same women who stood with Jesus at the most difficult of times. There was nothing mischievous or silly about their behavior that would have warranted such a frivolous dismissal. Perhaps it was just that the story was more than any of them could hope for and overwhelmed them into this denial. The implications of this story are immense, if it was actually.

Is it true? What do you think? You're here, aren't you? Did you come to listen to a two thousand year old "idle tale"? Is the truth of it so overwhelming as to be dismissed or denied? Is the ministry it draws us into also welcome? Because it most certainly does draw us in. God's resurrection is very tangible proof that death is not final, that hope survives even the most brutal of realities. Resurrection is love in action, it's love triumphant and justifies the truth of mercy and forgiveness as a way of life and a meaning of life.

We are drawn here, I believe, because the truth of God's love and the promise of it's power is so strong and alluring that still after all these years we are drawn to its irresistible, welcoming beckon. All of us in so many ways have borne the heat of the day. Along with the joy and promises of life, we've had our shares of pain, betrayals, mistakes and pitfalls. We've known temptation and given in, we've caused and received pain, we've aimed high -- and sometimes succeeded and sometimes failed, we've gambled -- sometimes won and sometimes lost. The pain of some realities is certainly offset to a large degree by successes we've accumulated, but it's my experience that no matter what gains we've made the pain of the past has a life of its own that lurks beneath the surface of our spirits and undermines the worthiness we feel or the confidence we need to move forward.

The pain becomes spiritual and chronic. You know, I hear confessions all the time. In the old days we had special booths for that. Scary dark places that actually served a purpose in creating an environment reflective of where the secrets lurk in our souls and psyche, but we don't like those any more and we've changed our confessional formats. They can happen in my office on soft, comfortable chairs with a cup of coffee. Sometimes in restaurants over a nice lunch. Even sometimes at a party or other social occasion, there will be a simple question, "So what do you do?" Since I can't lie, I'll say I'm a priest and bam! I'll hear a confession. It usually starts out with the words, "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual..." I used to cringe at that. I don't anymore. I see it as another opportunity to talk about things I like talking about. But the conversation will usually go one of two ways. Either there will all of a sudden be nervous fidgeting and the empty glass they're holding will need a refill, or a conversation will open up about some of the pain the person endured or caused and how that became an obstacle to finding a faith community to worship in.

In truth the church universal has done some wonderful things, brought ministry and hope to many. But in truth it has also been negligent or compliant with wrong-doing at the very least and aggressively abusive at most during it's history. There are a lot of amends to make and credibility to restore. If there is something in what I just said that you can resonate with, then listen closely to what I'm about to say. On behalf of the church or clergy which hurt or abused you, I'm sorry. I ask your forgiveness.

Forgiveness begins healing. Healing makes one strong and restores hope and the ability to love again. The church has, and in many places and ways continues to hurt the poor and helpless, women, children, people of color, gay and lesbian people, the weak. The church offends and becomes an obstacle to the faith of those same people who begin to dismiss the tale of the resurrected Jesus as an idle tale, since it's not lived out by the very people who preach it.

And yet, the power of forgiveness and reconciliation is strong medicine for any person of faith. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa serves a powerful witness of the importance of public apology and acknowledgment of sin and abuse by one person to another, or one people against another. But I warn you, there is a price tag to seeking the apology of another, whether it's another person or a people as a whole. And that price tag is the commitment to find those you've harmed and apologize to them.

None of us can be the recipients of a grace we will not offer when called to do so. Jesus forgave the very people who brutally murdered him unjustly as he hung from the cross. He would not let the poison of anger or bitterness infect his soul and forgiveness was the healing remedy for that. He demonstrated for us the restorative power of forgiveness, and calls us to forgive the sins of others as we have been forgiven.

This day is so very important because it reminds us again of the life giving love of God. A love that cannot be destroyed or corrupted. A love that will rise when beaten down and live when killed. A love that forgives wrong and heals the broken.

We are all spiritual because we all have spirits. Our spirits are active and involved with the other spirits around us. This can be for good or ill, but it is most assuredly constant. Our religiosity is a function of our finding a faith community to share the growth of that spirit. Growth requires intention and thought, prayer and openness. It requires the ability to forgive and ask for forgiveness. It requires the courage to state beliefs out loud to someone else. To proclaim, not like a battering ram or as a litmus test for political acceptability, but as a statement of the heart and spirit of how God's love is known, heard and lived. It is not an idle tale. It is an invitation to life itself. It is a spiritual necessity.

Welcome Festival Day. Find in us the desire to greet you, embrace you and love you. Find in us the courage to walk into a world of uncertainty, certain of your love. Find in us the conviction to fight for justice, when injustice shakes us. And if you cannot find it there, in the power of the resurrection of Jesus, put it there.

Come, Festival Day, blessed Day that art hallowed forever! Amen.

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

Easter Vigil

By The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

Come Holy Spirit: Touch our minds and think with them, touch our lips and speak with them and touch our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. In the name of the risen Christ who brings us life from the tomb. Amen.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?" When the women left for the tomb on that first Easter Sunday morning they knew exactly what to expect -- or at least they thought they knew what to expect when they arrived at the tomb. Luke tells us in the Gospel that they carried spices with them that they had prepared. As was their custom, they were coming to carry out the task of anointing Jesus' body for final burial. At the end of their journey to the tomb, they fully expected to find the dead body of Jesus. We know of course what they will find -- but in their minds, they were going to the place of the dead. They were going to view Jesus in his death and not to rejoice in the glory of his Resurrection.

Sometimes, we gloss over details of the Resurrection story because we've already heard the story so many times. Let's be honest with one another, why waste time on the old news -- the unimportant details. Tom reminded us in his Good Friday sermon that there is a danger in skipping over the suffering of Jesus of the past three days and wanting to move right into the salvation part of the story. Oh, we're clear about Jesus' suffering, but we need to remember that those closest to him suffered too. Not the physically cruel suffering that Christ endured for our sakes, but nonetheless, a deep emotional suffering brought on by witnessing the crucifixion of the one that they loved deeply. But the Apostles and the women missed some important details that Jesus shared with them before he died. They were so busy living the life of salvation that Jesus offered them that they forgot that his suffering and death was going to be a BIG part of Jesus' message. They simply did not want to hear this part of the story -- these were the details they wanted to overlook and avoid.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?" In our own ways, we too, look for the living among the dead. We don't look to the new life that is offered to us, but instead, we often look first to what is totally contrary to what God wants and wills for us. We know the story so well that we often miss the transformative power of the Resurrection that is ours to live into fully. I know, all too well for myself, how easy it can be to miss the message, to forget the essence of what the Resurrection can really mean for me on a deeply personal level. Why? Because I've heard the story; I know the ending and forget that I make a choice -- whether consciously or unconsciously -- to live into my fears, my anger, my own created sense of hopelessness instead of looking to the obvious -- the Risen Christ who is available to me, and you, every hour of everyday and not just during the Easter season.

When things go awry for us, most us run into our own tombs of fear, distrust and aloneness. Somehow, it feels safer to live into the darkness of our lives instead of living into the light of our lives. Again, I know all too well about personal tombs because I've been to my own personal tomb far too many times not to admit it. All of our tombs are built rather securely on the foundations of our fears and inadequacies, and it engulfs us and gives us a false sense of safety and a peculiar sense of comfort. But what do we really find in our tombs: utter emptiness. We spend endless hours and days looking for the living -- that would be US -- amid the emptiness and deadness of our lives.

Setting aside our reserved Episcopal nature for a moment, let's wrap our thoughts around this -- Jesus, my friends, LIVES! Now, I want you to say this with me, LOUDLY and with ASSURANCE. We seem to have such difficulty saying Jesus' name unless it's in the context of the liturgy. I want you to feel JESUS right now. JESUS LIVES! That's right. Jesus is alive, he is well and he is with us and he loves each and every one of us. He is here, right now at this moment in time, in this place, and at every other moment we invite him to be with us. Jesus comes to give us a new life, to pull us out of our personal tombs so that we can carry His light of life into the world. He calls us to be His Light in the world; to be the living among those who are the walking dead.

Our Risen Christ comes to take the deadness of our lives and transform them into new lives. It doesn't matter how bad or how good we think our lives are right now, Jesus is ready and willing to take our lives, resurrect them, and make them whole in the spirit of His love for us. St. Paul reminds us that we are invited to put our old self to death, the self that is enslaved by our fears, so that we might be raised with Christ into the fullness of God's eternal life. And our baptisms and the renewal of our baptismal covenant give us the opportunity to drown the oldness of our lives so that a newness of life can emerge in us.

And so, on this is the night we gathered in our collective darkness and waited for the light to emerge for us and in us. This is the night where we gathered with water to welcome Elissa, our newest member of the faith and to reclaim for ourselves our own baptismal covenant faith. This is the night of our own resurrections. We no longer need to fear our personal darkness or the darkness of the world. It is the night where all things are made new and where we are reminded that death did not have the final say after all.

As we leave this place tonight, let us remember that Easter is not just a single celebration or a season of 50 days. It is the starting point for us to always keep close in our hearts and minds that our God is the source of all life and liberation. That He is the one who leads us out of the land of darkness and chaos into a place of inner freedom and peace. That our God, who gives to us His son, Jesus Christ who redeems us through his glorious resurrection and makes us all new by giving us transformative life outside of our tombs.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

© 2007 The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud