More Than Comfort

“More Than Comfort”

In this Sunday’s gospel lesson, we will hear Matthew’s report of the “Feeding of the Five Thousand,” when Jesus takes all that the disciples have to offer – what seems to be a woefully insufficient five loaves and two fish - and miraculously feeds a crowd of “about five thousand men, besides women and children.” Since this is the only one of Jesus’ miracles to appear in all four gospels, it’s obvious that the early Christians recognized this event as a most important sign of Jesus’ power, and an essential reminder of the abundance that is always on offer from God. This long-ago miracle of abundance echoes down to us today, especially each time we bring our small offering to the Lord’s Table, each time we remember Jesus taking the bread, blessing it, and sharing it with his friends.

We have missed so many and so much during these long months of pandemic and isolation. Here in our church community, we long to see the faces of beloved brothers and sisters, to sing hymns, to pass the peace, to share food and drink during coffee hour, to welcome the newly baptized, and so much more. Maybe most of all, we long to share Holy Communion.   

As I mentioned in a recent sermon, distributing Communion is both a great honor and also a wonderful pleasure. I love watching all of you approach the altar, some walking hesitantly and prayerfully while others, especially the kids, come bounding up the steps, practically sliding into the altar rail, so excited to receive what – or, better, who - is being offered. While kneeling or standing at the rail, some of you look up at me, eager for a moment of connection while others keep your eyes downcast, reverently and privately waiting for the Body of Christ. And then there are your hands, some soft and smooth, others creased and bent, hands telling stories of lives just getting started or tales of journeys that are by now many chapters long.

During these months when we have not been able to gather in person there have been debates in the wider church about Communion. Is it appropriate to continue in our usual way, even if only the priest and maybe one or two others can receive the sacrament? Or, is it more meaningful for everyone to “fast” from Communion until we are all together again? And, how about the bread and wine that some people set up at home during our Sunday services? In some way can that also be Communion? It seems to me that there is not one correct answer, but, no matter what, distance and technology and even shaky theology will surely not stop God from giving us the grace that we so desperately need. So, I decided to continue our live-streamed services as close to normal as possible, although that has meant that only Sue and I are able to receive and you have been invited to a “spiritual communion.” There hasn’t been a week when I haven’t felt some awkwardness and even guilt about that, but I’ve hoped that offering something familiar would be a comfort during these difficult days.

After all, an important blessing of Communion is comfort: the comfort of knowing that God is in our midst, no matter how tough our challenges – the comfort of participating in a ritual rooted in the birth of our faith - the comfort of knowing that, even when we are apart, together we are the Body of Christ. Especially right now, we can use all the comfort we can get. But, comfort is not the only blessing of Communion. In the words of Eucharistic Prayer C (BCP, pg. 372):

“Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in his name.” 

Communion – even when we are separated by distance - offers us not just comfort (or “solace”) but strength. Communion offers us not just pardon but renewal. Communion gives us all that we need to really be the Body of Christ in a world that is as hungry as ever for the abundance always on offer from God. We are given all the comfort and forgiveness that we need but we are also given the strength to love, to offer mercy, and to stand beside the poor and the oppressed, the people who are especially blessed in God’s downside-up kingdom.

Since God can take what seems to be a woefully insufficient amount of bread and fish and somehow manage to feed many thousands of people, I am convinced that God will have no trouble at all feeding us during our time of spiritual and physical hunger. With God’s help, we are strong enough to follow the example of the late great John Lewis and make some good trouble, doing our part right here and now to create a more just society.

As a start, I hope that all of you will attend the New Jersey Together action (via Zoom) on August 31, 7:30pm-9:00pm. This is a very real way for God to take the little that we have and multiply it into a blessing for many thousands of our sisters and brothers wounded by deep racial and economic inequities. Please register for the action here: http://www.njtogether.org/action2020

In the meantime, we will gather at a distance on Sunday, once again offering what we have, trusting that the God of abundance will give us all the good food that we need.

The Power of Smallness

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

July 26, 2020

Year A, Proper 12: The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 29:15-28

Psalm 105 1-11, 45b

Romans 8:26-39

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

The Power of Smallness

            If you’ve been joining us for the past few Sundays you know that we’ve been hearing a series Jesus’ parables.

            And today we reach the end of that series with an overabundance of parables – there are so many images I’ve had trouble figuring out where to begin!

Jesus suggests God’s kingdom is like a tiny mustard seed growing into the greatest of shrubs and even a tree where the birds can nest.

The kingdom is like yeast, just a little bit makes a whole lot of bread.

Like a treasure buried in a field or a pearl of great value, the kingdom is worth more than all that we have.  

My favorite moment from this passage comes at the end when Jesus asks the disciples if they have understood all the parables that he has presented.

At least to my ears, their quick “yes” sounds a little like when a schoolteacher asks the class if they understand the lesson. Maybe some really do get it but then there are always others who look around nervously, don’t want to be the first one, or even worse, the only one to say “no.”

So, they nod “yes” desperately hoping that they won’t be called on to explain what they supposedly understand.

(That was usually me in math class!)

The truth is that although the parables use everyday imagery, they’re not really meant to be easily understood.

We’re meant to spend time with the parables, to ponder them, to play around with the images.

The parables are meant to overturn our expectations, to help us see the world more like how God sees the world.

And, it turns out that God sees the power of smallness.

And, God uses the power of smallness.

And, that’s very good news for us, especially these days.

The other day I was interviewed about my experiences with Jersey City Together.

            As many of you know, Jersey City Together is our local community organizing effort, drawing together all different kinds of people from across the city, working to improve housing, education, and public safety.

            And, also as many of you know, I’m a big believer in Jersey City Together – which is now expanding into a statewide effort – New Jersey Together – because I believe it’s the best way for us to make, as the late great John Lewis liked to say, “good trouble.”

            Anyway, during the interview I was asked what I see as the challenges faced by the organization.

            After thinking for a moment, I said that not just Jersey City Together but all of us face a challenging set of intertwined crises, and it’s unwise, and probably impossible, for us to deal with any of them in isolation.

            There’s Covid-19, of course, which for the moment is more or less under control here but is raging in other parts of our country and many of our leaders – many of our people – seem to be unwilling or unable to do what’s necessary to slows the spread of this dangerous disease.

            There are all the people who have lost their jobs and often their health insurance – and a lot of these jobs aren’t coming back soon, or maybe even ever.

            There are all the people, including some in our own congregation, who won’t be able to make the August rent or pay their mortgage, or who are already homeless, squeezed into motel rooms, desperately looking for more permanent shelter.

            And, what about our schools? What happens if they really can’t reopen for in-person instruction or have to come up with some kind of half and half schedule, leaving parents scrambling to find childcare?

            Oh, and the Federal Government has deployed paramilitary forces wearing camouflage but no identifying badges or insignias to battle protesters on the streets of Portland - and there are threats to send these shadowy forces to other cities, as well.

            How would we respond if they came here?

            And, then there are the important, but maybe slower-moving, events that usually don’t make the news, like how it’s been a red-hot summer in the arctic, spelling big trouble for all of us, especially in low lying areas. Just the other day, during a rainstorm (a big storm but it wasn't a hurricane), large parts of Jersey City and Hoboken were under water.

            So, yes, we face a very challenging, and, yes, frightening, set of intertwined crises.

            And, it would be understandable and so very easy for us to throw up our hands or to bury our heads in the sand, giving in to feelings of frustration, weakness, and fear.

            Maybe some of us already have.

            But, first of all, as St. Paul understood so well and wrote to the church in Rome, we don’t fear because we know that nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

            And, second, if we think we’re powerless, we are quite wrong.

           

I first learned about community organizing at a weeklong training that I took about 13 years ago.

            That was a quite while ago but I remember the person leading the training telling us that he hated the word “empowerment” – you know, how well-meaning people say that they want to “empower” poor and oppressed people so that they can stand up for themselves and improve their lot in life.

            He said “empowerment” is condescending because it denies the basic truth that the power is already here inside of us. The power is already here among us.

            And, isn’t that the message of Jesus?

            The kingdom is here.

We have all been given a treasure that might be harder to see than the tiny mustard seed, but it’s a treasure even more beautiful than the most perfect pearl.

            Our job – our job together – is to allow our God-given seeds to grow abundantly.

God sees the power of smallness.

And, God uses the power of smallness.

            Last week some of our church’s lay leaders and I met with the bishop and a couple of other diocesan officials to talk about the legal unification of St. Paul’s and Incarnation and the sale of Incarnation’s former home on Storms Avenue.

            I had expected it to be kind of a nuts and bolts business meeting but Bishop Hughes and her team are still relatively new and so they didn’t really know “our story” – didn’t know how our two churches have come together as one.

            So, we told them our story.

            And, as we were talking I thought about how this beautiful story started so small, started with Incarnation shifting its Sunday service to 3:00 in the afternoon which meant that Rev. Laurie and I were able to serve as supply priests once a month, giving us the chance to get to know each other better.

            The story continued with us all having an end of summer party at Liberty Park – with us walking the Way of the Cross together on Good Friday – with Incarnation and St. Paul’s celebrating the holiest days of the year together.

            Each of those events was small and didn’t necessarily seem like they were leading to anything big down the road and, yet, almost without us even noticing God was taking our two tiny seeds and growing something new and wonderful.

            And, when it was time to decide our future, none of us could ignore the magnificent tree standing in our midst, a tree that provides shelter for us even during these very stormy days.

God sees the power of smallness.

And, God uses the power of smallness.

            In my sermon last week I mentioned “Freewheeling Wednesday” at our Triangle Park Community Center, where some 50 or 60 kids received a free bike or scooter, plus a helmet, plus free food and even free ice cream!

            As I said last week, it felt like the kingdom of God.

            The other day, Sue and I were driving down through Greenville. Since I had some donated clothes in my trunk, Sue suggested we try dropping them off at the center. It was a little late in the afternoon and I wasn’t sure the center would still be open but it was worth a try.

            Now, “Freewheeling Wednesday” had been a special event, carefully planned, with police protection and even a closed street, but this time we got to see Triangle Park on an ordinary hot summer day.

            Some young men were clustered in the park while there was a police car stationed at the corner. The cops and the guys seemed kept an eye on each other but the cops only took action when a car was parked in the bus stop.

            I would say the atmosphere was tense.

            And yet, sure enough, the center was still open and busy.

            Food had just been distributed and people were looking through the clothes rack and browsing the book cart on the sidewalk. Moms and kids were still around, maybe not quite ready for another day of summer camp to be over.

            As I think back, I remember how we opened the center without really knowing what it was going to be, not even sure what it could be. We opened it with some money and some hope and faith.

            And, the center itself is so small! Those of you who’ve been down there, you know it’s just a small storefront and yet from that small seed a magnificent tree now stands in long-neglected Triangle Park, providing shelter during these very stormy days.

God sees the power of smallness.

And, not only that, God uses the power of smallness.

So, here we are.

I don’t need to tell you that we are in big trouble and there are some real dangers ahead and it would be understandable and so very easy for us to throw up our hands or to bury our heads in the sand, giving in to feelings of frustration, weakness, and fear.

But, the kingdom is here.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

And, we have all been given a treasure that might be harder to see than the tiny mustard seed, but it’s a treasure even more beautiful than the most perfect pearl.

            Our job – our job together – is to allow our God-given seeds to grow abundantly.

God sees the power of smallness.

And, God uses the power of smallness.

            Amen.

"Remember"

“Remember”

In June of 1982 I convinced my father and my sister to come with me to the Loew’s Jersey at Journal Square to see Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. I was determined to not miss the second big screen adventure of Kirk and Spock and the rest of the crew, and glad to share the experience. (I’m guessing that my mother was grateful to get a few hours of peace and quiet while the three of us were out of the house!)

I loved the movie from the very start – those first familiar notes of the TV theme music – and was swept along by the story of an enemy from the past seeking revenge on Kirk. In the years since, I’ve seen Star Trek II many, many times and have often reflected on its themes of aging and regret, parents (or parental figures) and children, friendship and sacrifice – themes that have become only more meaningful as I’ve grown older. But, right after that first viewing with my father and sister, I could really only think about one thing (I’m not sure if a 38 year-old movie needs a spoiler alert but consider yourself warned):

Spock was dead.

The most beloved Star Trek character of them all died a noble death, dying to save the ship, to save the lives of his friends.

After we left the theater, I remember walking back to the car feeling very sad about Spock’s death. I enjoyed the movie but this was pretty shocking, especially for someone who had not yet experienced the death of a loved one. As the three of us were talking about the movie, my father said something like, “Well, they did leave the door open if they want to bring him back.” I must have looked puzzled. My father reminded me that just before Spock took the steps that led to his death, he placed his hand on the side of Dr. McCoy’s face and said, “Remember.” It was just a few seconds and in all the excitement I must have missed it or not realized what it could possibly mean. As it turned out, my father was right. But, although we would indeed see Spock again, his death scene always reminds me of the power of memory.

“Remember.”

Memory is powerful. It can haunt us, reminding us of old wounds or mistakes made or roads not taken.

Memory can be used to intimidate people. In recent weeks, there has been a debate about statues honoring Confederate leaders and soldiers that can be found in many Southern (and, amazingly enough) even some Northern communities. Most of these statues and memorials were erected decades after the Civil War, in an attempt by white people to remember their version of the past and honor their dead, but also to intimidate and reassert control over formerly enslaved people and their descendants, part of the decades-long effort to take away the rights and dignity of Black people.

Memory can also inspire us. Over the past week, I’ve been moved by the tributes to Representative John Lewis. I’m in awe of his courage and persistence, from Bloody Sunday on a bridge in Selma in 1965 to serving as the “Conscience of the U.S. Congress” for the past few decades. One thing I didn’t know is that for several years he attended Comic-Con and cosplayed not as some fictional superhero but as his younger self! Wearing the same kind of raincoat and carrying the same kind of backpack as he did in Selma, he led the children in a march around the convention center, using memory to teach that superpowers are not needed for heroism. John Lewis got into “good trouble” his whole life and now his memory inspires us to believe in our own God-given ability to stand up for justice and truth.

“Remember.”  

The power of memory should not be news for us Christians. We are people of memory. We recall and maybe even imitate the examples of holy women and men from the past. Most of all, our central act of community and worship is an act of memory, remembering the Last Supper of Jesus and his closest followers and friends. Our gathering at the Lord’s Table (yes, even on Facebook) is such a deep and profound act of remembering that the usual boundaries between past, present, and future get broken down. At the Lord’s Table the curtain between heaven and earth is parted and Jesus is as present with his friends in Jersey City today as he was with his friends in Jerusalem long ago.

These are hard days, for sure. And, unfortunately, I am certain that there are more difficult days ahead. So, it’s especially important to remember our good times, like the afternoon I spent watching Star Trek II with my father and sister. It’s important that we remember our holy history, remembering the ways that God has guided us through other tough times. It’s important that we remember that God calls us in our own day to make some good trouble, doing our part to resist and defeat injustice and make earth a little more like heaven. It’s important to remember that it’s natural to be afraid when disease, oppression, and hatred are on the loose, but life, justice, and love will get the last word. It’s important to remember that we get a glimpse of that last word at the Lord’s Table, when we remember and encounter Jesus, who always leads us from death into new life.

“Remember.”

The House of God, Under Construction

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

July 19, 2020

Year A, Proper 11: The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 28:10-19a

Psalm 139:1-11, 22-23

Romans 8:12-25

Matthew 13:24-50, 36-43

The House of God, Under Construction

            It’s amazing to me that even after four or five months so many of you continue to dial in for our daily conference call prayer services.

            I guess I sort of thought that a lot of us would’ve gotten tired of the services by now, but instead many of you have mentioned that they have sustained you during these difficult days – and, honestly, even with occasional static and background noise and sometimes hearing my voice echo, our little services have sustained me, too.

            I love hearing your prayers.

            And, I’ve also appreciated the chance to share so much scripture together, making our way through long stretches of the Bible that we never hear on Sundays.

            Some of these passages are so beautiful and inspiring while others are full of tongue-twisters (particularly difficult at 7:30am!) and others are confusing, mysterious, and maybe even troubling.

            For example, there is a whole lot of slavery in the Bible.

            Last week a parishioner who calls into almost all of our phone services emailed me because she was troubled by all of this talk about slaves, concerned about how the descendants of enslaved people could possibly hear good news in these passages.

In not so many words, she asked how, in a time when we are insisting that Black Lives Matter, I could read aloud these passages in my solemn priestly tone and called on me to address this topic.

Sure enough, in today’s gospel passage, in what’s often called the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds, Jesus speaks about slaves without any comment.

Actually, there is no condemnation of slavery anywhere in the Bible, a fact that some in the past used to justify their “ownership” of other human beings.

So, what to make of all of this?

First, it’s important to know that slavery in the world of the Bible was different from the way Africans were enslaved by white people many centuries later.

In the ancient world, slavery was not limited to a particular race or ethnicity and there was no claim that slaves were in any way less than human.

Many slaves were highly educated, sometimes better educated than their owners.

Some slaves were in positions of authority and responsibility.

Some poor people actually “sold themselves” into slavery, in the hope of improving their lot.

And, many slaves could expect to eventually be freed with little or no taint from their former status.

So, ancient slavery was a lot different from the truly diabolical form of slavery practiced in more recent times, with the many devastating social and economic effects that we still feel and grapple with to this day.

And, yet, … it sure feels like the authors of the Bible should have been able to see that the idea of “owning” other human beings is just wrong, right?

And, we probably could have avoided at least some suffering and tragedy if the Bible spoke clearly on this issue – though, on the other hand, the Bible does say very clearly that we shall not murder and that we should welcome the stranger and we must love our neighbor - and we haven’t done such a hot job with all of that, have we?

So, about the Bible.

We believe that God inspired the Bible.

But, the Bible is the product of God’s inspiration working through individuals and groups of people who lived in particular times and places, people who had their own way of seeing things - or not seeing things - people who took certain things for granted as just the way life is.

So, there is a tension in the Bible.

In one way, it is tied to the time and place in which it was written.

But – and here’s where God comes in - the Bible also points ahead to a very different future.

For example, in today’s Old Testament lesson, we heard the famous story of Jacob’s Ladder.

While Jacob sleeps he dreams of a ladder carrying angels between heaven and earth - and then he encounters the Lord.

And, in the dream, the Lord speaks only of the future – yes, a future when Jacob’s people possess the land, but an even bigger future, an even harder to imagine future, when Jacob’s descendants will bless all the families of the earth – and God promises to be with Jacob and all of his many descendants right to the very end.

Jacob awakes from his amazing dream and creates a little shrine on this holy spot, naming it Bethel: the house of God.

There’s a lot of trouble and heartache ahead for Jacob but in that dream he had a glimpse of the future – he saw the house of God, under construction.

I have no doubt that there is a lot of trouble and heartache ahead for us, too, but we also get glimpses of God's future, – every now and then we get to see the house of God, under construction.

I think that our phone call prayer services have given us a glimpse of the future.

The services are stripped of everything extra – it’s just brothers and sisters gathered together to hear the words scripture with all of their tension, beauty, and challenge.

We are gathered together to pray– so many prayers – for ourselves – our health – for our family and friends – our country and our world – for individual people I’ve never met and yet feel like I’ve come to know and care about through our prayers.

The house of God, under construction.

And then there is Triangle Park  - or, after last Wednesday afternoon, maybe we should rename it Bethel – the house of God.

For the past week or two, we had been storing donated bikes and scooters here in Carr Hall, in preparation for “Freewheeling Wednesday” when they would be distributed free of charge to kids in the Triangle Park neighborhood.

If you know me, you know it was easy for me to imagine all sorts of worst-case scenarios: there won’t be enough bikes – fights will break out because two or more kids want the same bike – it will be hard to keep the whole event organized and, especially, safe – a real concern in a neighborhood where recently there has been an increase in violence.

None of those worst-case scenarios happened.

Instead, it was a vision of the house of God under construction, as a rainbow of about 50 or 60 super-excited children got their bikes and scooters (I’m sure for many it was their first, including the kid who was very apologetic after riding over my foot!).

Later, in an email, a boy named Remy wrote simply, “I want to thank you for my bike. I am very happy.”

That afternoon, we got to see the house of God under construction as parents looked delighted and a little dazed by all the generosity and kindness in the park, by the patience and devotion of volunteers including Monica Shaw and her Triangle Park team and also Deacon Jill and her crew from DJ’s Free Market.

It was a vision of the house of God, under construction, as people in this long-neglected neighborhood enjoyed free food from local restaurants and there was even an ice cream man, hired by us to give away ice cream to everybody!

It was so beautiful I felt like Jacob waking from sleep in amazement, declaring, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God…”

 The house of God, under construction.

So, yes, there is a tension in the Bible.

In one way, it is tied to the time and place in which it was written.

But, the Bible also points ahead to a very different future.

God is leading us to a future when the lion and the lamb will lay down together in peace, to a promised land where it’s the poor and the mournful and the oppressed who will be truly blessed – a future without weeds, or maybe a future when nothing and no one is seen as a weed – a future that the great John Lewis fought for his whole life - a future when there will no longer be Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, but only sisters and brothers, all adopted as God’s beloved children, living together in the house of God.

Although in one way limited by our human inability to see beyond our time and space, in another way the Bible points ahead to a future still mostly beyond our sight, a time when it would never even occur to anyone to enslave another human being – a future for God and us that is being born even as we speak, as St. Paul writes, “the whole creation groaning in labor pains until now.”

And, like Jacob, and like all of us dialing in day after day, and like all of us at Triangle Park the other day, if we keep our eyes open, every now and then we get to see it, we get to see the house of God, under construction.

Amen.