Sunday, February 17, 2019

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.