David Takes; Jesus Gives

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

July 29, 2018

Year B, Proper 12: The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 11:1-15

Psalm 14

Ephesians 3:14-21

John 6:1-21

David Takes; Jesus Gives

            If you’ve been in church these past few weeks you know that we’ve been tracking the rise and the rule of David, remembered as Israel’s greatest king.

            David is a complicated character – one of God’s unlikeliest choices – someone who was capable of great courage and strong leadership but, as we heard today, someone who is also capable of great selfishness and terrible evil.

            The story of David and Bathsheba is one of the uglier stories in the whole Bible.

            It’s also remarkable story because it shows Israel’s greatest king in such an unflattering light – something very unusual in ancient literature, where kings are usually described in the best possible light - at least if the writer wanted to stay alive.

            But, it’s hard to imagine David looking much worse than he does in today’s quite horrible story.

            The author of Second Samuel begins criticizing David right off the bat, pointedly noting that it’s spring – the time when kings lead their armies into battle – but while the Israelite army is off fighting the Ammonites, King David is hanging out on the couch in his cedar palace.

            We’re then told he takes a break from lounging to take a walk on the roof where he spots the beautiful Bathsheba as she bathes.

            Apparently without any reflection on morality or possible consequences, David simply takes what he wants – takes this woman who was married – married, in fact, to one of his officers, Uriah the Hittite.

            So far, so bad.

            But, things get even worse when Bathsheba announces that she’s pregnant and David hatches a plot to hide his paternity, to cover up his sin.

            He calls back Uriah from the war and sends him home, figuring that now everyone will believe that the child belongs to Uriah.

            Unfortunately, Uriah the Hittite – who is not an Israelite – who is a foreigner – proves to be far more honorable than Israel’s king.

            He refuses the comforts of home while his fellow soldiers are off fighting in the war.

            And then this story declines from what’s kind of like a particularly juicy episode of Montel or Jerry Springer into something profoundly evil.

            David arranges for the death in battle of his loyal and honorable soldier, Uriah the Hittite.

            The cover-up is worse than the crime.

David the king takes what he wants.

            In today’s gospel lesson, we heard one of the best-known of Jesus’ miracles – the only one that is included in all four of the canonical gospels: what’s usually called the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, or the feeding of the multitude.

            We’re told that after performing the miracle, Jesus realizes that the people want to make Jesus king.

            This is a little surprising to me – it’s surprising that this idea even occurred to people - because Jesus is such an unlikely king.

            While, like David, most kings simply take for themselves, Jesus never takes anything for himself.

            Instead, Jesus gives – gives and gives and gives. Jesus gives bread and fish today – and, ultimately, gives away his life on the cross.

            So, it’s surprising to me that it even occurred to people that this Giver could or even should be king.

            Partly, I guess it must have been their full bellies talking, but I wonder if it wasn’t also that, more important than bread and fish, Jesus had given them a taste - a vision of abundance.

For at least a while, as they passed around those baskets overflowing with bread and fish, the people had the ability to see the great truth that, thanks be to God, there is more than enough for everybody.

           

            We don’t usually see things that way, though, right?

            Partly that’s because we’ve made a mess of the world, allowing so many people to live in terrible poverty while others live in their cedar palaces.

            And, partly it’s because often we’re like Philip and Andrew at the start of today’s gospel lesson, focused on scarcity, focused on what we don’t have – we’d need six months wages to feed all these people – all we have is this kid and his only five loaves and two fish – the glass is half-empty, or, emptier even that that.

            Those who know me well know that by temperament I’m a glass half-empty kind of guy – and, yes, I’ll admit it, sometimes, emptier even that.

            I’ll give you an example that “someone” reminds me of, fairly often.

            If you’ve been there, I think most of you would agree that one of the best things we do all year is our Good Friday Stations of the Cross Procession through the streets of our city, stopping and praying at places of violence.

            After the first time we did this four years ago, Sue and I were breaking our Good Friday fast and talking about how amazingly well the procession had gone.

            I said something like, “Yeah, it was great, but, you know, I’m kind of disappointed that so few people from St. Paul’s showed up.”

            Sue looked at me with mix of pity and frustration, pulled out a piece of paper and said, ok, let’s start listing everyone from St. Paul’s who was there.

            And, so we began listing names.

            And, we continued on and off the rest of the day and into the evening, as we would each think of someone else.

            By the end – and I’m not sure we ever listed everybody, I was forced to realize that our parishioners had made up about one-third of everybody who had participated in the procession!

            In that moment, despite my glass half-empty disposition, I was given the opportunity to see the abundance that’s right here all around me, all around us, all the time.

            And, that’s really the gift that Jesus the giver gave to that large crowd long ago.

            Yes, Jesus gave them bread and fish that filled their bellies for a while, but much more important, and much longer lasting, Jesus gave them the ability to see and experience God’s abundance.

            And, if we’re open to it, Jesus the giver gives us that gift today and every day.

            In preparation for today’s sermon, I’ve been trying to see the full glass of God’s abundance all around me, all around us:

            The abundance last week of a congregation that gathered in a hot and dark church and were such good sports with some using the little flashlights from their cellphones to see the words in the bulletin and in the hymnal – with the choir huddled over on the side near as much natural light as they could find and still sounding really good and then our finance committee and vestry gathering upstairs for a marathon meeting.

            The abundance of heading over to Majestic for one last time with the faithful team of Vanessa, Gail, and Dee Dee, giving it our all for just a few remaining residents and for the staff who have plenty to worry about and said that they really needed the healing that we offered.

            The abundance of Sonia, Eric, and Norma, going over to Garden State Episcopal”s homeless drop-in center every month, serving food at least as good as we serve ourselves, serving it to brothers and sisters who’s names we don’t know, people who will never and can never repay us.

            The abundance of the garden around our church, which, thanks to the hard work of Susan, Vanessa, and Emily, has never looked better, offering beauty, offering an oasis, offering a little environmental boost, right here in the middle of the city.

            (Just yesterday, a neighbor who’s not a parishioner posted a picture on Facebook of at least three different kinds of bees hard at work on one of our sunflowers!)

            The abundance of Jersey City Together activists spending hours in court on Monday – with some even taking a day off from work to be there – standing with one of our own as she was unfairly targeted for eviction.

            (Case dismissed, by the way!)

            The abundance of good colleagues – especially Gary who has been such a blessing to our church and to me personally – sharing the work, inspiring me to be more organized and more thoughtful, offering friendship and so much support.

            I could go on – but so much abundance!

            And, I bet, even with all of our very real problems and challenges, we could all describe the full glass of God’s abundance that’s all around us.

           

David the king, like most kings, was a taker.

            But Jesus the King, he’s a giver.

            He’s the Giver.

            Giving us food for our bodies and food for our souls.

            And, giving us the ability to see and experience God’s abundance, today and every day.

            Amen.

The Only Housing God Wants Is Our Heart

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

July 22, 2018

Year B, Proper 11: The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 7:1-14a

Psalm 89:20-37

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

The Only Housing God Wants Is Our Heart

            Well, if you’ve looked at the forecast you know that it’s supposed to rain for what seems like the next month or so, but this past week we had some of the best weather of the year, which meant, among other things, that most days I was able to get up and out early for my morning walks.

            I’ve mentioned to you before that I have a route that I follow, a route that takes me past the Old Bergen Church, over on Bergen Avenue.

            And, as many of you know, there is a group of homeless people who sleep on Old Bergen’s porch – and, I’ve noticed that now it’s a new group of people. I don’t recognize anyone up there, which makes me wonder what’s happened to the old group. And, it makes me wonder how these new people found themselves in such dire straits.

            On Tuesday morning, though, I didn’t have to go all the way to Old Bergen to see someone sleeping on church steps.

            When I came out of the rectory and down from our porch, I found a man sleeping at the top of the little flight of stairs that leads down to the sidewalk.

            It was very early and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully so I let him be. But, when I returned about an hour and a half later, he was still there so I woke him up and we talked a little.

            He was reluctant to give me much information about himself, but he said that he hadn’t been on the streets for very long.

            As I usually do when people come here looking for help, I directed him to Garden State Episcopal over on Newark Avenue where they can offer much more assistance than we can, gave him a couple of bucks for a cup of coffee, told him I’d keep in my prayers, and wished him well.

            I don’t need to tell you that we have a housing crisis in our city. I don’t need to tell you that because you can see it with your own eyes – and also because more than a couple of you, our own parishioners, have found yourselves unable to pay the rent and a couple of you have even lost homes and faced homelessness.

            There’s not much more terrifying than that.

            Housing and homelessness are such huge problems that it’s easy to feel overwhelmed and powerless – that’s why I’m so glad that along with a few of you, I’m involved with Jersey City Together, which has given a lot of attention to housing and has managed to score a couple of big victories.

            We’ve taken on some of the worst landlords in the city, including one who owns several properties right here on our block. And, we’ve encouraged the city to finally enforce the law, and more.

            Maybe most important of all, we’re able to rally together when people find themselves in trouble.

            Just this past week, a tenant who’s been active in Jersey City Together found herself on the verge of eviction. It was the familiar story of a previous notice that was supposedly sent but never made it to the tenant’s mailbox. Right…

As soon as our own Diane Maxon heard about this, she rallied the troops, knowing that a show of support – including maybe a clergy collar or two – might make a difference.

            It shouldn’t be this way, but it is. And, this tenant is not out of danger just yet, but at least there’s some hope.

            Of course, the rich and the powerful don’t have to worry too much about their housing. That’s true today and that’s always been true.

            For the past few weeks here in church, we’ve been tracking the rise of David from the youngest son out tending the sheep – God’s unlikely choice – to his slaying of Goliath – to his reign as Israel’s greatest king.

            Like all kings, David lived in a palace - in this case, as we heard today, a palace made of cedar, a precious material in the ancient world.

            David is a complicated character, but, to his credit, he recognizes that there’s something kind of messed up about the fact that he lives in his cedar palace while the ark of the Covenant – in a sense, God’s very presence – lives in a… tent.

            So, again to his credit, David decides that God also should live in a grand house and he’s the one who’s going to build such a house for God. At first, the Prophet Nathan encourages this – I mean, who could object to building a palace for God, right?

            But, I love the way the text describes God’s reaction to this news.

            “Wait a second, you are going to build me a house?”

            God turns it around and says that actually it’s God who will build a house for David – not a house made of cedar but a dynasty – a dynasty to rule Israel.

            And, as God also says in today’s passage, it’s David’s son and successor Solomon who will in fact build a grand house for God – the Jerusalem Temple – remembered as one of the most spectacular buildings of the ancient world – a building though that was eventually destroyed and later replaced with another spectacular building - what’s known as the Second Temple, which in turn was also destroyed - destroyed by the Romans in the year 70, just a couple of decades after the earthly lifetime of Jesus.

            Both times, the destruction of the Temple was a heartbreaking catastrophe for the people of Israel.

            But, God? God survived the destruction of the Temple just fine, because, unlike us, God doesn’t need a house.

           

The only housing God wants is our heart.

            For us Christians, we see this most clearly in the life of Jesus of Nazareth – Jesus, who as we heard two weeks ago, was rejected by his own hometown and at least some of his own family – Jesus who, unlike the birds of the air, had no nest of his own – Jesus who, as we heard in today’s Gospel lesson, is always on the move, journeying by boat or on foot, traveling through villages, cities, and farms – offering Good News and healing to those sick in body and soul.

           

The only housing God wants is our heart.

            Long ago here on Duncan Avenue, our spiritual ancestors built a house of wood for God.

            They poured enormous amounts of resources and ingenuity and creativity to build something so beautiful. They did all of this to give glory to God and, maybe, to give a little glory to themselves, too.

            And, you and I, we are so blessed to have this wooden house of God, right?

And, we are given the awesome responsibility and privilege of sharing this beautiful place with new people who become part of our community, and also sharing it with our neighbors who may never become pledge-paying parishioners but who are hungry for good news and beauty, all the same.

And, we have the heavy and expensive responsibility of caring for this wooden house of God and passing it on for the future.

But, as hard as it is to face this and to say this, the day will come when this building is no longer here – and I hope and expect that’s a long, long time in the future – but, you know, God will still be just fine, because God doesn’t need or want a house.

The only housing God wants is our heart.

So, we come to this house week after week not so much to visit God, but to invite God into our hearts – to welcome God back into our hearts - and then to carry our heart-dwelling God into the world – out onto the streets of Jersey City or wherever we live and work – carrying God in our hearts as we strive to love our neighbors as ourselves – as we try to care for the hungry and the sorrowful – and, yes, as we stand up for those in danger of losing their homes, because we all definitely need and deserve decent shelter. But, God…

The only housing God wants is our heart.

Amen.

            

Weakness and Strength

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

July 8, 2018

Year B, Proper 9: The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10

Psalm 48

2 Corinthians 12:2-10

Mark 6:1-13

Weakness and Strength

            If you were here last week, you may remember that in my sermon I talked about how we live in an age of miracles.

            We really do.

            In many cases, medicine is able to heal what would have disabled or killed us, even just a couple of decades ago.

            Our computers and cellphones give us the ability to instantly communicate over great distances, and they give us access to nearly unlimited information.

            But, there’s always a cost, always a shadow side, to any progress we make.

            In our case, one of the costs of this open access to information, this never-ending flow of news, is that we don’t really focus on any one thing for very long.

            Frankly, our attention spans are shot.

            That’s why I was very glad that last week The New York Times devoted an entire special section of the paper devoted to checking in with people – mostly women, but not all – who had taken the great risk of publicly telling their stories of sexual harassment and abuse:

            The #MeToo movement.

            It may feel like it was a year ago, but actually it was just a few short months ago when the monstrosity of one Hollywood producer was exposed, miraculously opening the floodgates as women found the courage to publicly tell their stories of cruelty and fear and long-lasting emotional scars.

            And, suddenly, one by one, famous men began to fall like dominos: politicians, actors, newscasters, businessmen, men who had been widely respected and who had shaped our national conversation were now publicly disgraced and dislodged from their jobs.

            Of course, there are still many who have not yet faced their day of reckoning.

And, there are also “ordinary” women who have their own terrible stories to tell, stories that rarely, if ever, make the news.

And, so far at least, the Church seems to have skated by, though we have plenty of our own stories of abuse – and some of the business of our General Convention going on right now in Austin is finally facing this most un-Christian legacy, repenting, and trying to hold people accountable.

            So, yes, as a society and as a Church we have a long way to go, but, nevertheless, seemingly overnight, the media realized that we’ve had an epidemic on our hands.

            Of course, women have known this all along.

            Near as I can tell, there is no woman who hasn’t experienced sexual harassment or abuse: from enduring leering and whistling on the street to far, far worse.

            In an effort to make sense of this epidemic, we’ve done at least a little bit of reflection, a little bit of soul-searching on how and why our society is infected by this epidemic – or, at least we did that for a week or two until we moved onto the next headlines.

            Fortunately, it doesn’t take a whole lot of reflection or insight to realize that sexual harassment and abuse have absolutely nothing to do with love, or even, for that matter, little or nothing to do with sex.

            Instead, it’s all about weak men desperately seeking power – the insatiable hunger for more and more twisted and never really satisfying power: the power to make someone else uncomfortable – the power to inflict pain – the power to turn a person into a thing – the power to destroy someone’s future - the power to make someone else do something she really does not want to do.

            Needless to say, this twisted hunger for power – this abuse of power - is most definitely not the way of God.

            God is the most powerful of all, and yet God never, ever forces God’s Self on us.

            Instead, God freely offers God’s love and healing – freely offers grace - to us, and we are always free to say yes or to say no.

            Today’s Gospel lesson gives us a vivid illustration of this dynamic: God offers love and healing, but the response is always up to us.

            We pick up right where we left off last week: Jesus has just healed the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years and Jesus has just brought Jairus’ twelve year-old daughter back to life.

            Now, after all this miraculous activity, we’re told that Jesus returns to his hometown.

            Although Jesus had asked everybody to keep quiet about his healing, you know how people are, right? So, undoubtedly word has gotten back to Nazareth that their local boy has been doing good.

            We might expect Jesus to be welcomed home as a hero, that his own neighbors and kin would want some of that same healing that he’s performed elsewhere, but that’s not the case at all.

            Instead, the people who looked and sounded like him, the people who had known him his whole life, they flat out reject what’s offered to them – shocking even Jesus himself – and we’re told that because of their unbelief Jesus could do almost nothing in the place he knew better than anywhere.

            God is the most powerful of all, and yet God never, ever forces God’s Self on us.

            Instead, God freely offers God’s love and healing – God’s grace - to us – and we are always free to say yes or to say no.

            After bombing in his hometown, we’re told Jesus heads back out on the road, continuing his healing work, and now he also deputizes the twelve, sending them out two by two, continuing his work.

            Well, we know these people, right?

            Not a particularly impressive group, and they must have looked especially unimpressive with no bread and just their barebones possessions.

            Jesus knows that some, most probably, will reject these less than dazzling messengers and their message, so he instructs his followers that when they are rejected, to move on, shaking the dust from their feet.

            God never forces God’s Self on us, and, on top of that, God usually chooses the people who seem the weakest and least impressive to do God’s work.

            We can hear that in today’s second lesson, in Paul’s second letter to the troublesome church in Corinth.

            If you were paying attention and thought Paul sounds a little defensive in this passage, you’re probably right.

            The problem seems to have been that there was another group of teachers teaching a somewhat different Gospel than Paul.

            And, these teachers (Paul facetiously calls them “super apostles”) seem to have been more appealing than Paul himself – maybe they were more eloquent, or better dressed, or maybe even healthier.

            In the passage we heard today, Paul writes openly about his “thorn in the flesh.”

            There’s been a lot of speculation about what that thorn was exactly, but it seems to have been some kind of ailment – maybe a spiritual problem or maybe something involving his eyes or maybe a speech impediment.

We don’t know. But, this “thorn in the flesh” was something that would have made it harder for people to accept Paul’s message – that would have led people to turn away from Paul and to turn to those who appeared healthier, who seemed to have their act more together, who seemed more powerful.

            This must have driven Paul bananas. Yet, here in his letter, Paul revels in his weakness, understanding the great truth that God chooses the seemingly weak for the most important missions.

            Paul writes, “For whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

God is the most powerful of all, and yet God never, ever forces God’s Self on us.

            Instead, God freely offers God’s love and healing – God’s grace - to us – and we are always free to say yes or to say no.

            And, God usually chooses the seemingly weak to do God’s work.

            So, we shouldn’t be surprised when women who had lived in fear and resignation for so long are finally able to stand up, boldly declaring “me too” and begin to bring down seemingly powerful men, and start to unravel a rotten culture.

            And, we shouldn’t be surprised when God sends us – seemingly weak us – we shouldn’t be surprised when God sends us out to call seemingly powerful people to change their ways.

And we shouldn’t be surprised when God sends us out – seemingly unimpressive us – out there, to freely offer God’s love to absolutely everybody.

            Amen.