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.
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