Answering to a Higher Authority

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

February 24, 2019

Year C: The Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany

Genesis 45:3-11, 15

Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

Luke 6:27-38

Answering to a Higher Authority

            I must be starting to get old, because when I look back on my childhood it seems so different from what kids experience today – it almost feels like a whole different world.

            As I’ve mentioned to you before, I grew up down in Country Village where, in the 1970s, there were lots of young families, lots of kids around my age.

            There were no personal computers yet and video games were just beginning, so, in the good weather all of us, even a kind of bookish kid like me, would spend a lot of time outside, playing in the middle of the street, interrupted only by the occasional cry of  “Car! Car!” that shooed us to the sidewalk for a minute.

            We played and we rode our bikes, all under the eyes of many of our mothers who watched us from the kitchen window, often while talking on the phone.

            Although a fight would break out every now and then and there were some cranky older neighbors who complained about the noise or objected to us crossing onto their property, for the most part it was a pretty happy and peaceful way to grow up.

            But, of course, we couldn’t be outside all the time, so the other main activity was watching TV – watching the handful of channels that were available back then – during the day watching repeats of old shows from the 50s, 60s, and 70s.

            So, there was a lot of I Love Lucy, The Munsters, The Addams Family, Lost in Space, The Brady Bunch, and on, and on.

            But there weren’t just the shows – there were also the commercials.

            Nowadays, some of us have devices or streaming services that allow us to fast-forward through commercials or skip them entirely, but back then there was no escape and through repetition they became at least as memorable as the shows themselves – which was, of course, the whole point.

            So, back then I probably had no idea what indigestion was, but I knew that the “plop, plop, fizz, fizz” of Alka-Seltzer would offer “oh what a relief.”

            I objected to some of the midweek suppers my mother put on the table because I knew full well, just like everybody else, that “Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day!”

            And, I also knew that not all hot dogs were created equal – and I knew this important fact thanks to a memorable commercial for Hebrew National.

            It was a simple set-up: we see Uncle Sam holding a hot dog in his hand and then an announcer points out that the government allows hot dog makers to use frozen beef and fillers and byproducts and other unappetizing things, but Hebrew National doesn’t do any of that because…

            “We answer to higher authority.”

            The camera pans upward, above Uncle Sam to the clouds, and left unsaid is that this “higher authority” is God.

            The point was that, unlike Oscar Meyer and the rest, Hebrew National follows the Jewish dietary laws - it keeps kosher.

            And, although the commercial is a little silly (though effective – I remember it clear as day forty years later), it does point to a truth.

            Since they first came to understand that they had a special relationship with God, that they had a covenant with God, the Jewish people have understood themselves as being under a Higher Authority, held to a different standard than the other people around them.

            Like all of us, they sometimes fall short, but for thousands of years they’ve understood they are to treat other people as they themselves would want to be treated – that they were to welcome the stranger into their land – that they were to treat animals humanely – that the command for Sabbath rest was not just for Jewish men and women but also for foreigners, for slaves, and even for the beasts of burden.

            Jesus was born into this culture and grew up with this understanding – that he and his people answered to a “Higher Authority” – and, through him, we his followers are also now answerable to God.

            But, Jesus builds on this Jewish understanding, asking – requiring – even more than any of the great prophets and teachers who came before him.

            We are not just to respect and be decent to our enemies – we are to love them.

            We are not just to be peaceful – we are to offer our other cheek to be struck.

            We are not just to be generous – we are to give to everyone who asks of us.

            We are not to judge – never to condemn.

            We are to forgive, no matter what.

            This is some of Jesus’ most difficult teaching – and it raises challenges and even some dangers, doesn’t it?

            I can imagine the crowd around Jesus scratching their heads wondering how in the world anyone could do this.

            Actually, I don’t have to imagine it because, as I pondered these words, I was scratching my own head, wondering how anybody could do this, wondering what in the world to say about these most challenging commands.

            And, as I’ve thought about it, I think maybe for that first crowd and for us today, these hard teachings most of all remind us just how fallen the world is – how broken we are – how far we are from the way things were meant to be – how the Kingdom of God has not yet fully arrived.

            The truth is we can’t yet fully live into these commands because, as we seem to be reminded every single day, in our fallen world there are some people who abuse others – there are some people who must be stopped from hurting other people – there are people who are treated like doormats or far worse, and that is surely not what God wants.

            The truth is we can’t yet fully live into these commands because in our broken humanity there are a few who have so much and many who have so little and if we give to every outstretched hand we will find ourselves destitute and with our own hands outstretched – and that is surely not what God wants.

            The Kingdom of God has not yet fully arrived.

            But, that does not let us off the hook.

            We are not allowed to simply shrug and say, “Oh well, this is the way it has to be, so let’s ignore or forget about what Jesus has to say.”

            A certain hot dog maker didn’t give into the temptation of saying “Well, since everybody else is using coloring and additives, I guess that’s the way it has to be, so let’s give up our standards and offer a cheaper product like everybody else.”

In the same way, we shouldn’t give into the temptation of saying that our broken world and fallen humanity will always be broken and fallen and that’s just how it’s going to be.

            No.

            We are children of God and we answer to a Higher Authority.

            And, you know, people today are way more interested in what’s in their food than we were back in the 70s.

            Change is possible.

            Now, I’m not saying that’s because of Hebrew National franks, but I do know that the more we are loving and generous and merciful – the more we are like God – then, with God’s help, the world becomes more like what it was always meant to be.

            The more we are loving and generous and merciful then there will be fewer enemies and more friends – there will be fewer people who have to beg with outstretched hands – there will be less judgment and more forgiveness – and there might even be more kids able to play outside in their own neighborhoods, without a care in the world.

            We still have a long way to go, and we’re going to fall short a lot of the time, but if we follow the way of Jesus, if we answer to the Higher Authority, then the Kingdom of God draws ever closer.

            Amen.

Down Off The Mountain

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

February 17, 2019

Year C: The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Jeremiah 17:5-10

Psalm 1

1 Corinthians 15:12-20

Luke 6:17-26

Down Off The Mountain

            There have been several occasions lately when I have felt even more pride than usual about our beautiful, loving, and generous community here at the Church of St. Paul and Incarnation.

            One time was at last Sunday’s Absalom Jones service at our cathedral.

            I was so proud of the large role our congregation played in that very fine service honoring the first African-American ordained in the Episcopal Church.

            Sidney King is a leader of our chapter of the Union of Black Episcopalians, which sponsors the service.

            Patrice Maynard shared her beautiful dancing and Vanessa Foster was a Eucharistic Minister.

            And, along with musicians and singers from around the diocese, Gail Blache-Gill and Shari Gill our choir once again dazzled with their extraordinary musicianship.

            During the announcements I resisted the temptation of raising my hand and pointing out to everybody that Gail and our choir can be heard each Sunday at 10:00 right here on Duncan Avenue.

            (Probably wouldn’t have been good form to show off like that, right?)

            It really was a wonderful service and right there in the middle of it all was Bishop Carlye Hughes, who served as both celebrant and preacher.

            As I listened to her fine sermon, I thought how we are still in the early days of our time together, still getting to know one another, still learning one another’s stories, each other’s story.

            But, when I first began reflecting on today’s gospel lesson I immediately thought of Bishop Carlye’s predecessor, Mark Beckwith, and a story that I heard him tell many times.

            If you’ve been to Episcopal House in Newark – or know where it is – you know that just behind our diocesan headquarters building, just across the parking lot, is a Roman Catholic Church that no longer offers Mass, but for forty years it has housed – and continues to house – a soup kitchen that feeds something like 500 people every day.

            It’s a really extraordinary ministry that offers a lifeline to so many – and if you’re in the neighborhood you really can’t miss it.

            Anyway, Bishop Beckwith talked about being very aware of this ministry and the people it serves when he first arrived as bishop but then over time he sort of stopped seeing them – the soup kitchen and all the hungry people just became part of the backdrop of his days as he went about the work of being our bishop, coming and going to his office, several flights up from the street.

            I’m sure we can all relate to things that we look at every day and yet somehow manage to stop seeing.

            So that’s how it was until one day a priest from our diocese asked him about the soup kitchen and asked if he had ever gone over there.

            He hadn’t but he decided right then and there to change that – and so began the regular practice of going to the soup kitchen, not to serve but to simply sit and eat with the people – to learn their stories - to get to know them as brothers and sisters.

            No surprise, he discovered that he gained far more from these encounters than he gave, learning quite a bit about faith and just how very hard it is to be poor in our land.

            I thought of Bishop Beckwith’s story because in today’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke, Jesus and his disciples come down from the mountain to “a level place” – to a plain – to a flatland - where there are vast numbers of people from all over – people hungry for his Good News – people desperate for the healing power of Jesus.

            Jesus comes down off the mountain and he’s there among the people – among the people who needed him so badly – and it’s there that he begins to preach what we call the Beatitudes.

            Now, this version of the Beatitudes that we heard today may have sounded a little different to you because most people are more familiar with the version found in the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus gives his sermon on a mountain (that’s why it’s called the Sermon on the Mount).

            In Matthew’s version, it’s the same downside-up vision of God’s kingdom, but in Matthew Jesus gives a more “spiritual” version of the Beatitudes, saying, “Blessed are the poor… in spirit; Blessed are those who hunger and thirst… for righteousness.”

            But, Luke’s version (the one we heard today) is different and, honestly, I like it better.

Jesus isn’t up on a mountain. No, he’s right there on the ground among the people and his blessings are addressed directly to the people gathered around him – blessed are you hungry, weeping, despised people – and his warnings are addressed to the people around him, too – woe to you rich, full-bellied, laughing, and highly respected people.

            The way Jesus sees it, in God’s downside-up kingdom, the “losers” of the world win.

The way Jesus sees it, in God’s downside-up kingdom, the “winners” of the world lose.

Two thousand years later, it’s still an amazing, hard-to-accept, radical vision.

And, depending on who we are and what we have or don’t have, Jesus’ downside-up vision is either inspiring or terrifying.

God will not let go of us no matter how bad things get – and, contrary to what some popular TV preachers say, wealth and full bellies should not be seen as signs of God’s special favor.

But it’s complicated because, let’s face it, depending on circumstance and perspective, sometimes we’re poor and sometimes we’re rich – sometimes we’re hungry and sometimes we’re full – sometimes we’re rejected and sometimes we’re respected.

 So, you know, maybe where we are is more important than what we have or don’t have at any given time.

For a long time the Church – including this church – had a tendency to do what Bishop Beckwith had done – to withdraw behind its walls – to focus on our many internal issues – to take care of ourselves – to somehow no longer see the poor and the hungry downstairs and just outside our doors.

But, if we’re going to truly follow Jesus then we need to do like Bishop Beckwith and come down off the mountain to “a level place” and really see the people we look at all the time – really see the hungry people – really see the grieving people – really see the despised people – to serve them as best we can, but even more important than that, to simply be with them – to learn their stories - and, most of all, to love them.

Not easy – but we know it’s possible with God’s help.

I am so proud when we show off our incredible musical talent to the wider Church and community – but I’m proudest - and I think Jesus is happiest - when we come down off our mountain of blindness and fear and judgment and really see and live among the people around us.

And, we’re doing that more and more – Family Promise, lunch at the homeless drop-in center, our Good Friday Stations of the Cross procession through the streets of Jersey City – and also what’s by now one of our oldest ministries, our monthly community supper, Stone Soup.

This past Thursday evening as I sat enjoying yet another delicious meal and good conversation in Carr Hall, I looked around the room and saw all of these different people – all of these people talking and sharing their stories - people I love dearly and people I barely know – a few parishioners but mostly neighbors and people just hungry for a free meal – people who’ve come into our community through a love of the arts and people who will likely never really have anything at all to do with church – and for a moment, right here on Valentine’s Day, I felt pure love, and I thought, this is what the kingdom of God is like – this is that downside-up kingdom where, in fact, there are no winners and losers, just beloved sisters and brothers, breaking bread together.

And, to experience that kingdom – to be blessed in that kingdom – we need to come down off the mountain and really see the people around us.

Amen.

            

Spiritual Tidying Up at Starbucks

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

February 10, 2019

Year C: The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

Isaiah 6:1-13

Psalm 138

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

Luke 5:1-11

Spiritual Tidying Up at Starbucks

            Sometimes after a long day of teaching and priesting, Sue and I just want to veg out in front of the TV and watch something that’s entertaining and not too challenging for our tired brains.

            One show we sometimes watch is called “Tidying Up” with Marie Kondo.

            It’s gotten a fair bit of attention so maybe you’ve seen it or at least heard about it.

            Marie Kondo is a spritely, extremely pleasant and seemingly deeply spiritual Japanese woman who is self-proclaimed expert on…tidying up.

            She’s written best-selling books teaching people how to organize their dresser drawers and closets, how to “tidy up” – how to de-clutter - their homes.

            The core of her teaching and method is taking a moment to look, really look, at each piece of clothing in our dresser, each object in our closet, really look at each one of them and ask, does this spark joy?

            If there’s joy, it stays.

            If not, it goes.

            On each TV episode Marie Kondo and her interpreter (Marie only speaks limited English but truthfully she communicates most clearly through her eyes and smile and joyful presence) arrive at the home of people whose stuff has taken over their lives.

            At least in the episodes I’ve seen most if not all of these people are middle class, but it’s an unfortunate truth of our society and its cheap goods that even people who struggle to make ends meet often live in homes absolutely filled with stuff.

            Anyway, Marie begins the process by sitting on the floor to make a spiritual connection with the home. Then she gives some basic instruction and encouragement (she never shames the people in their cluttered homes) and then it’s up to them to begin emptying their dressers and closets, to begin tidying up.

            It’s not an easy process but on each episode, as the piles of stuff get smaller, as people really do tidy up, they discover (or rediscover) the joy of what really makes them happy.

            I don’t have a whole lot of clothes or other things but I do have a lot of books and music CDs. (The last few times we’ve moved, the movers have looked at the many boxes of books and asked the same question: why have so many books when you can only read one at a time? Fair enough but kind of misses the point, right?)

 Anyway, Marie Kondo has inspired me to (very slowly) start weeding out these collections, keeping what gives me joy or has some special meaning.

Tidying up.

I love today’s gospel lesson because it’s a Peter story – Simon Peter the leader of the apostles, the fisherman who follows Jesus and usually means well but so often doesn’t really get it, so often messes up and falls short – Peter who gives hope to all of us who also mean well but often don’t really get it, who also mess up and fall short more often than we’d care to admit.

But today is a special Peter story because this time – this time – Peter gets it exactly right.

We’re told that Jesus is at the Lake of Genessaret (otherwise known as the Sea of Galilee) and when the crowd starts to be too much Jesus sees the fishermen’s boats. The men have been out all night fishing unsuccessfully and are now involved in the hard work of cleaning their nets – what must have been a grueling and not very joyful daily chore of “tidying up” – made even more difficult and frustrating after no catch, meaning for today no livelihood for themselves or their families.

Anyway, Jesus in his very Jesus-like way just invites himself onto Simon Peter’s boat and orders him to set out a little from shore.

Notice there’s no protest from Simon Peter – no “Lord, we’re all really tired so maybe some other time” – no “Lord, we’re kind of in the middle of cleaning our nets here, if you don’t mind” – no, Simon Peter simply does what he’s told.

Then Jesus issues a second command, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

Here Simon Peter does push back a little, saying, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.”

Now, I think if I were Peter – Peter who must have known these waters as well as anybody and certainly better than a carpenter from Nazareth – if I were Peter I’d say something like, “Please, Master, we’re tired. We know there are no fish today.” Or, if I were feeling particularly tired and cranky, "Master, please leave the fishing to us and we’ll leave the teaching and the healing to you.”

But, Peter doesn’t say anything like that. Instead, despite being I’m sure very exhausted and kind of doubtful and reluctant to soil the nets again, he says, “Yet, if you say so I will let down the nets.”

And, as we know, Peter was rewarded with abundance – so many fish that the carefully washed nets began to break – so many fish that the boats began to sink – so much abundance that Peter who, this time at least, had said and done exactly the right thing, begged Jesus:

“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

Since Lent is now less than a month away, I’ve started to turn my attention to that holy season – started reflecting on how I might take advantage of this special opportunity to repent – to change my ways – to do a little spiritual tidying up.

And, I think most of all I want to tidy up my assumptions and my expectations of some of the people I encounter.

More often than I care to admit I judge people on superficial traits or on first – and often faulty – impressions.

Unlike Peter, too often I don’t really trust Jesus when he says lower the nets, don’t really trust Jesus that there is abundance – abundance of goodness and love all around me, all around us, even in some pretty unlikely places.

As some of you know, in the past few years I’ve gone away to California right after our annual meeting – not because there was any particularly bad news at the annual meeting, not because I needed to run away, but just to get away for a few days in the middle of winter to clear my head.

It’s quite a luxury and I’m very thankful for the opportunity.

I’m very much a creature of habit so each time I stay in the same place and follow pretty much the same routine which includes getting up first thing in the morning and going to the Starbucks just a block from my hotel for my first cup of coffee and for something to eat.

On Monday morning I was a little surprised that the same homeless man – a youngish guy, maybe about 40 years old - who I had seen at this Starbucks last year was still there every morning as the place opened – with his suitcases and bags piled in the same corner of the small store.

I also recognized one of the baristas from last year, too.

She was perfectly pleasant and professional but there was something in her manner and appearance that suggested that she’s had a hard life – that she was what in the past might have been called a “tough cookie.”

On my last morning I actually got to Starbucks before it opened and I waited outside with this barista who was having a last before-work cigarette with a man who seemed to be her boyfriend.

Before she went in to start her day serving coffee, the boyfriend handed her a dinner plate covered in aluminum foil. I thought, that’s nice, it looks like maybe he prepares a lunch for her, and then I immediately followed her into the store, ordered my coffee and forgot all about it.

About a half hour later, as I was getting ready to leave I looked over at the corner where the homeless man was sitting with his bags and saw that he was eating.

I looked a little closer, trying not to stare, because I saw that he was eating what looked like homemade beef and noodles and vegetables.

And I realized that the plate that the boyfriend had handed over to the “tough cookie” barista wasn’t for her, it was for the homeless man.

The hard-seeming barista could easily and reasonably have shooed away the homeless man as a nuisance and a possible danger to business and maybe even her job.

We’ve all seen it happen – it even might have been the wise thing to do - no one would have blamed her.

But instead, before dawn, at the start of a long day, she served this man a homemade meal.

And, my guess is that this is an everyday event.

There is so much beauty and so much abundance out there, just beneath the surface.

Our work is to do the needed spiritual tidying up to clear out our assumptions and expectations so that when Jesus invites himself onto our boat, like Peter, we’ll find our nets filled with grace and goodness, filled with so much joy, just bursting at the seams.

Amen.