Thanksgiving in February

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

November 28, 2019

Thanksgiving Day

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Psalm 100

Philippians 4:4-9

John 6:25-35

Thanksgiving in February

            You know, we’ve managed to mess up many of our holidays, days that have lost much of their original meaning and instead have become about drumming up business with special sales.

            But, despite our worst efforts – “Black Friday” keeps starting earlier and earlier – despite our worst efforts, we haven’t been able to mess up Thanksgiving.

            And I think that’s because on a very deep level we recognize the importance of gratitude.

            Science has shown that gratitude deepens the bonds among us and makes us more generous.

            And, Jews and Christians have recognized the importance of gratitude from the start.

Jews were called to offer their first fruits to God in gratitude for the gift of their land – and every time we gather at the Lord’s Table is a profound act of thanksgiving for the gift of Jesus.

We know that gratitude is important and we know that ingratitude stinks.

            Ignatius of Loyola once said that “Ingratitude is the worst and most abominable sin, and in fact the origin of all sins.”

           

In an effort to show gratitude and to share our abundance with the community, some of you may remember that for the first few years I was here we offered a community Thanksgiving meal in Carr Hall.

            It was a tradition started by Trish Szymanski. She had begun it in her own home and then used the tiny space of Honey Bakery, a restaurant that used to be around the corner on Bergen Avenue.

            Moving the Thanksgiving feast here to our relatively spacious kitchen and hall gave Trish and her band of volunteers more elbow room, but it was still a ton of work, especially the way they prepared everything from scratch.

            Each Thanksgiving there would be mountains of delicious food available for hours to any and all hungry people who might come by.

            (I had to resist the temptation to eat too much because then I would have no appetite for Thanksgiving with my family!)

            We had a more or less steady stream of very grateful people come through but never as many as we expected or hoped. None of the food ever went to waste but it always made me a little sad that we weren’t able to attract more people to something so beautiful and delicious.

            I’m sure we could have done a better job of spreading the word but I think the real problem was that on Thanksgiving Day and the days leading up to it, there was a lot of competition – a lot of generosity and a lot of gratitude.

            Politicians, churches, and community organizations distribute lots of turkeys and all the fixings, and especially in poorer neighborhoods there are lots of free meals offered on Thanksgiving Day itself.

            As has been true for the past few Thanksgivings, this morning an army of God’s Love We Deliver volunteers descended on our parish hall and then fanned out to deliver Thanksgiving to people who are shut-in.

            There is a lot of turkey, a lot of potatoes and stuffing, a lot of pumpkin pie - a lot of Thanksgiving all around us this week!

            But, soon it will all be over: the leftovers, all those the turkey salad sandwiches will be eaten – and our levels of generosity – our level of thanksgiving – will return to normal.

            And, if you’re like me, our normal level of thanksgiving is not very high.

            The glass usually looks half-empty to me.

            After we decided to no longer offer our Thanksgiving meals we talked about doing “Thanksgiving in February” – to do a big feast in the middle of the winter, when there won’t be much “competition” at all, when temperatures - and often our spirits - are quite low.

            We haven’t done that yet but maybe this winter we will.

            So, today is the holiday we can’t seem to mess up – and even if our lives are hard – and I know they often are – even if the world seems to be falling apart – and it sure does - today we are usually able to muster up some gratitude.

            It feels to good to recognize that we are so blessed - blessed to simply breathe in and exhale out, that we are able to see a sunrise and a sunset, that we are able to be here to pray and to sing, that we are able to find spiritual shelter in this beautiful place.

            But, soon it will all be over: we will return to normal, and we may go a long time before we really give thanks again.

            So, my prayer is that God will give us the strength to carry the spirit of Thanksgiving into the Februarys of our lives, that God will open our hearts even in the cold and gray times, when giving thanks may be the farthest thing from our mind.

            Fortunately, church isn’t just open on Thanksgiving but we’re here year-round, in the good times and the not so good, gathered together to feast, and most of all, gathered to say thank you to God for Jesus, for life, and for one another.

            Amen.

            

A Palace for Christ the King

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

November 24, 2019

Year C, Proper 29: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Canticle 16

Colossians 1:11-20

Luke 23:33-43

A Palace for Christ the King

            One of my most favorite days of the church year is Palm Sunday, especially our 10:00am service.

            In my early days as your rector, I tried to impose order on our Palm Sunday proceedings but I quickly realized that this was not really possible and, not only that, but our confusion and disorientation is actually a big part of what that most unusual day is all about.

            After all, that day is so mixed-up that it even has two names: the Sunday of the Passion - Palm Sunday.

            So, if you’ve been here you know we start outside.

            Some years, people are fairly orderly, sticking to the paved parts of the churchyard, and other times people are wandering around all over the place. While still outside, we tell the story of Jesus entering his capital city in triumph as people lay palms and their cloaks along the route.

            And then, carrying palms, we have our own little parade, with people not always certain what’s happening, with latecomers wondering what they’ve gotten themselves into, with passersby looking on in confusion and maybe even mockery.

            But, somehow, we get where we need to go, singing “Ride On, King Jesus” over and over until we get inside the church and we switch to the more solemn, more regal hymn, “All Glory Laud and Honor.”

            When we finally get everybody settled here in what’s usually a pretty crowded church, it feels like we’ve gathered for a big party – for a coronation – but then the mood switches quickly as we remember the end of Jesus’ earthly life, when we retell the sad story of betrayal and cowardice, suffering and death, the sad story of the cross.

            For the huge crowds of people gathered in Jerusalem on that Passover weekend two thousand years ago, it seemed like the reign of King Jesus had lasted only for a few hours.

            For the palm-waving people who had welcomed him into Jerusalem so expectantly, and most especially for the disciples who had left behind their old lives to follow Jesus, the crucifixion must have been a heartbreaking disappointment.

But, you know, the truth is that most people could never and would never see Jesus as a king. How could this teacher and healer from Galilee with no crown and no palace and not even that many followers, how could he possibly be king?

            So, for the chief priests and the Romans and for most of the crowd, the quick demise of Jesus – and the mocking inscription placed above him on the cross – seemed totally appropriate.

            In the eyes of the world, this was no king.

            And, yet, to everyone’s surprise, mockery, cruelty, and death were not the end of the story.

            And, the reign of Jesus, the most unusual king, continues to this very day.

            And this very day happens to be the last Sunday of the church year, the day when the Church invites us to reflect on Christ the King, on Jesus the most unusual king.

            Most of our church calendar is quite ancient, but, maybe surprisingly, not today.

            The Feast of Christ the King began in the Roman Catholic Church in 1925, just about a hundred years ago, and then the feast was adopted by other churches, including ours.

            The Feast of Christ the King began because the Church was alarmed that people – self-proclaimed Christian people - were giving their allegiance to other kings – to certain political leaders and also to ideologies like nationalism, fascism, communism, and so on.

            It would be nice to say that things have changed over the past century but we know that’s not true.

            All we have to do is turn on the news and we can see Christians giving their allegiance to other kings.

            All we have to do is look into our hearts and see that we give our allegiance to other kings.

            Jesus is the most unusual king, and just like people two thousand years ago, we don’t know what to make of a king with no palace, a king whose only crown is made of thorns, a king who asks nothing for himself but instead calls on us to love the hard to love and to give away what we have to people who can never pay us back.

            It’s all just as mixed-up and confusing as it was two thousand years ago.

            And, just like the first followers of Jesus the most unusual king, we abandon Jesus.

We fall away, and choose to live just like everybody else.

            But not all of us.

            And, not all the time.

            For example, earlier this month Pope Francis dedicated a new homeless shelter located just a few yards from St. Peter’s Square in Rome.

            That may seem nice and no big deal, but this is not just any homeless shelter.

            The shelter located in a centuries-old palace called the Palazzo Migliori, a named for the family who previously owned it, but it’s a name that translated literally as “the palace of the best.”

            The Vatican requested that the company doing the renovations hire homeless workers. No surprise, the company didn’t want to do that, but they wanted the job so they did what they were told and, to their surprise, they discovered that these homeless people were some of the best workers they had ever seen – and, in fact, the company chose to permanently hire them.

            Now that the project is done has been blessed, the poorest of the poor will be living in a palace, a palace decorated with beautiful art, a palace with a terrace overlooking St. Peter’s Basilica, a palace where tourists would happily pay a small fortune to stay on vacation but has instead been set aside as a home for the homeless.

            It turns out that Jesus the most unusual King has a palace after all.

            And, in a smaller but no less important way, we build a palace for Jesus when we host our Family Promise guests on Duncan Avenue or Storms Avenue.

            We build a palace for Jesus when we feed the homeless guests over at Garden State Episcopal CDC, or give to the food pantry, or make sandwiches with the Sandwich Squad, or buy a Christmas gift for a child in need, or even just when we see, really see, our brothers and sisters in need all around us, people who deserve not just scraps but the very best.

            And so, on this last Sunday on the church year, on the Feast of Christ the King, we’re invited to take stock of our allegiances.

            Are we loyal to other leaders or ideologies or do we place our trust in Jesus the most unusual King?

            Through our own faithfulness and generosity are we willing to build a palace for Christ the King?

            Amen.

           

God's Time is Not Our Time

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

November 10, 2019

Year C, Proper 27: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Haggai 1:15b-2:9

Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22

2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

Luke 20:27-38

God’s Time is Not Our Time

I don’t know about you, but it seems that there are some life lessons that I need to learn over and over again.

            For example, the need for patience.

            Over these past couple of weeks as we’ve been sorting out our boiler issues, I have found myself increasingly impatient.

I want to know what exactly is wrong.

Now.

I want to know how best to fix it.

Now.

And, I want the problem – or, actually, the problems – fixed.

Now.

            Well, I can want all of that and more now but the truth is I am not in control of this situation and the truth is that my impatience can’t make the solutions appear any faster and I can’t even make the contractors work any quicker than they can or will.

            So, with God’s help, I need to be patient with our boiler situation and patient with the people who are working on fixing it.

            And, as much as it may be driving me a little nuts – and it is - this call for patience is actually a good spiritual lesson because the truth is you and I need to be patient with one another.

And, most of all, we need to be patient with God, trusting that although God’s time is not our time, God is at work: rebuilding, healing, and, most of all, creating new life out of death.

Today’s first lesson is from the Prophet Haggai, who is not a prophet we hear from very often.

            Haggai lived during a tumultuous time for the people of Israel: in the sixth century BC the Babylonians had conquered Judah and destroyed its capital city of Jerusalem, including the Temple which had been the center of life.

            After some years of exile in Babylon, the Babylonians themselves were conquered by the Persians and, surprisingly enough, in 538 BC, the Persians then allowed the Jewish exiles to return their homeland and start over.

And, when they got back home a top priority was rebuilding the Temple.

            The Book of the Prophet Haggai, part of which we heard today, is set in the year 520, eighteen years after that homecoming, and to everyone’s frustration the Temple had still not been rebuilt!

            (So, actually, I’m starting to feel a little better about our furnace situation!)

            But, God speaks through Haggai, reassuring the people that despite the delay, despite not working according to the schedule that human beings might want or expect, God is still at work.

            God says, “My spirit abides among you; do not fear.”

            And, in God’s good time the Temple will indeed be rebuilt and eventually that new Temple will be even more spectacular than what had previously stood in Jerusalem.

God’s time is not our time.

But, God is at work: rebuilding, healing, and, most of all, creating new life out of death.

           

            It wasn’t just our Jewish brothers and sisters who had to learn patience, who had realize that God doesn’t work according to the schedule that we might want or expect.

            The first generation or two of Christians had expected that the Risen Christ would return very soon – certainly within their lifetimes – to judge the living and the dead and to bring all of history to an end.

            Well, as we know, that’s not what happened.

            And, so one of the first big tests of the Jesus Movement was whether it could accept that God’s time is not our time, that God doesn’t work according to our schedule.

            And we hear some of that stress in today’s second lesson, from the Second Lesson to the Thessalonians.

            You know how human nature works: since people were eagerly awaiting and expecting the coming of the Lord, it seems that there were rumors flying among the community that Christ had in fact already returned.

            The author of Second Thessalonians warns them not to be fooled but to trust in God and to trust in what they had been taught.

God’s time is not our time.

But, God is at work: rebuilding, healing, and, most of all, creating new life out of death.

And then there’s today’s gospel story of the Sadducees who have a kind of off-the-wall question for Jesus.

Among other things, today’s gospel lesson reminds us that there was quite a bit of diversity in first century Judaism.

            We often hear about the Pharisees, a group within Judaism that is usually depicted in the New Testament as opposing Jesus.

            And now today, we hear from another Jewish group, the Sadducees. From what we know, the Sadducees were from the upper class, and were responsible for the maintenance of the Temple, and played prominent roles in Jewish life.

            They followed the Torah – the first five books of the Bible – but they did not recognize the rest of what we call the Old Testament.

            And, most important from the Christian point of view, and relevant for today’s story, the Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection of the dead.

            Not only that but, judging by today’s gospel lesson, it seems that the Sadducees were willing to challenge – and even ridicule - people who did believe that the dead will rise.

            So, the Sadducees tell Jesus the sad and plainly absurd story of this poor woman who, in succession, was married to, and widowed by, seven brothers.

            To make any sense of this strange story you need to know that the Book of Deuteronomy includes something called “Levirate Marriage.”

            It’s a type of marriage in which the brother of a deceased man is required to marry his brother’s widow. It was a way of holding together the extended family and also a way to protect the widow who would likely have been particularly vulnerable.

            Now, by the first century Jews were no longer practicing Levirate Marriage, but they still knew what it was.

            And, so, the Sadducees ask Jesus about this poor woman widowed by the seven brothers.

            “In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be?”

            Of course, this is not a sincere question because the Sadducees don’t believe in the resurrection! Naturally, Jesus knows this, but he still answers their foolish question, and then makes the larger point that God is not God of the dead because the dead are not dead to God.

God’s time is not our time.

But, God is at work: rebuilding, healing, and, most of all, creating new life out of death.

            And so, here we are.

            Today many of us are impatient, wanting what we want now.

            We want these furnaces fixed already!

            And, in our impatience and anxiety, it’s often hard to see and feel God at work.

            But, just as in the time of the Prophet Haggai and just as in the time of the early Christians, God’s spirit still abides with us, so we do not fear.

God’s time is not our time.

But, God is at work: rebuilding, healing, and, most of all, creating new life out of death.

Amen. 

A School for Saints

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

November 3, 2019

Year C: All Saints’ Sunday

Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18

Psalm 149

Ephesians 1:11-23

Luke 6:20-31

A School for Saints

            If you’ve been here over the past couple of weeks you know that we’ve been having kind of a rough time.

            On top of all the usual challenges of life here in the big city, several parishioners have faced serious illness and we’ve gotten the unwelcome news that the rectory boiler and most likely the church boiler both need to be replaced.

            So, it’s been a lot.

            And, since we’ve had to deal with all of these pressing matters, we’ve placed other items on the back burner, pardon the expression!

            So, no, we haven’t yet moved the nursery to the back of the church, though I promise that’s coming.

            And, no, the vestry has not yet finished creating a new mission statement for our unified church.

            Both of those unfinished items on our to-do list – and there are a lot more, believe me – have been on my mind, especially the mission statement.

What is my vision of our church?

What is your vision of our church?

And, most important, what is our vision of our church?

            Who are we?

            Why are we here?

            What are we here to do?

            Christians have been praying and thinking about these questions for two thousand years and have come up with many different visions - many different images - for what the church is and how it should live out its mission.

            First and foremost, there’s St. Paul’s vision of the church as the Body of Christ in the world – an image we heard in today’s second lesson from Ephesians.

            There’s also the image of the church as a boat providing safety in the stormy seas of the world – that’s an image that’s expressed in lots of church architecture, including ours. It’s why you’re sitting in a part of the church that’s called the nave.

            I also like Pope Francis’ vision of the church as a field hospital after a battle, here to heal the wounds of people who are so injured by life.

            All of those visions are beautiful and true but lately – and this won’t come as a surprise to those of you who know my background – lately I’ve been thinking about the church as a school – a school where we learn how to be saints.

            A school for saints.

            Today as we celebrate the Feast of All Saints, we give thanks for the apostles and martyrs, the heroes of our faith, who have given away their lives for Jesus.

            But, as we celebrate the official Saints, we can’t let ourselves off the hook.

We need to remember that you and I are called to be saints.

            In the words of the charming hymn we just sang, saints “live not only in ages past, there are hundreds of thousands still.”

            “You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea.”

            Or, to update that for our time and place, “You can meet saints on the PATH train, or the bus, or at C-Town, or in Lincoln Park, or in Bayonne!”

            (Sorry, I’m not good at rhyming!)

            But, you know, being a saint does not come easily.

            Just look at the vision and the teachings that Jesus presents in today’s gospel lesson.

            It’s a downside-up vision of the world where the blessed ones are those who are poor and hungry and weeping and hated.

            It’s a downside-up vision of a world where the ones who are rich and full and laughing are those who are in big trouble.

            It’s a downside-up vision of a world where we are called to not just respect our enemies but to love them – to give away what we have – to do to others as we would have them do to us.

            Whenever I read this passage I’m amazed that Christianity ever got going – because it’s so hard, so counter-cultural, so counter-intuitive.

            That’s why we need a school for saints, a school where, yes, we learn about the great Saints of the past but also where we learn to be saints ourselves, a school where we are given the opportunities to become saints, a school where God teaches us and where we teach each other.

            The school for saints is a place for lifelong learners.

            We can’t flunk out, unless we stop showing up.

            And, we never really graduate, at least not in this life.

            And, today, in the water of Baptism, we will enroll our newest student, beautiful little Karina Edwards.

            She has no idea what she’s getting signed up for. But, her parents know. And, we know, too.

And, together here in our school, Karina and we will learn how to be saints, all with God’s help.

So, I started off today’s sermon talking about the rough time we’ve been having around here lately.

And, I’ll admit that I was really feeling a little down about our troubles last Sunday – worried about the lack of heat and the arrival of our Family Promise guests – and how we are going to pay for it all.

The weather was bad and so attendance was pretty light and the energy in the nave seemed way lower than usual.

Anyway, after the 10:00 service, I hung out for a while in coffee hour, where, unusually, there were quite a few empty seats.

But, then, I remembered that the Sandwich Squad was working in the kitchen – and when I went in there to see how it was going I found the place pretty well packed with young people and not so young people all happily making sandwiches for people they would probably never meet, people who would never have the chance to say thank you, people who would never and could never pay us back.

Even on a gray, stormy, downer of a day, the school for saints was in session, just as it is in session right now, just as it will be in session today as we open our doors and give up our space (as we give up coffee hour!), making room for families who have no other place to call home.

And so, with God’s help, here we are, you and me and Karina, all of us students in the school for saints, learning together how to make Jesus’ vision of a downside-up world a reality.

Amen.