Baptism, Temptation, and Ministry

Liturgical Churches Union Lenten Worship Service

New Redeemer Reformed Episcopal Church, Jersey City NJ

March 15, 2017

Mark 1:9-15

Baptism, Temptation, and Ministry

            May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

            I am so glad to be back here with all of you during this holy season of Lent as together we break open the Word of God, as together we look into our hearts and reflect on the times and the ways that we have fallen short, the times and the ways when we have failed to be the Body of Christ in the world and sinned.

            I am so glad to be back with you as together we repent and ask forgiveness from God, God who is always so quick to forgive and pour grace into our hearts, into our souls.

            I want to thank our president and my friend, the Rev. Nathaniel Legay, for that kind introduction.

            And, I want to thank my brother and sister clergy for their friendship and support, not only at this service or during this season, but throughout the year as we work together to be the Body of Christ here in Jersey City and Bayonne.

            Thank you also to the choirs of New Redeemer and St. Paul’s and Incarnation for enriching our prayer and praise this evening.

            And, thank you to all of you for coming out this evening in less than ideal conditions, to worship God who loves us all so very much.

            I am especially glad to be back in this place, in this house of God, which has a special meaning for me.

            Not long after I arrived back in Jersey City, I had the honor of preaching here at the IMA Thanksgiving service – and, I’ll admit, I was nervous. It’s not easy – or at least not easy for me – to preach in an unfamiliar place with people I don’t know.

            I was concerned about how I would be received.

            But, I shouldn’t have worried, because the IMA and this beautiful congregation welcomed me with warmth and love – especially your pastor – a good and faithful minister who I know you and all of us are missing very much – our dear friend, the Rev. John Milligan.

            And, we pray that he is enjoying the start of his well-deserved retirement.

            One quick Rev. Milligan story that always makes me laugh when I remember it:

            Folks from St. Paul’s and Incarnation know that I don’t usually preach too long on Sundays (or, at least I don’t think I preach too long!) but I know that at these Lenten services the sermon is the centerpiece so, you know, I need to beef it up a little bit.

            Anyway, a couple of years ago at one of these services I preached for about twice as long as I normally do. After I was done, feeling good but also a little tired and kind of sweaty, I sat back down and Rev. Milligan, who was sitting next to me, he leaned over and said:

            “Very good. Short and sweet!”

            But, there’s another reason why I’m especially glad and honored to be in this house of God this evening.

            I am so glad that this service has once again brought together Episcopalians and Reformed Episcopalians – in a way, it is a family reunion, since we both share deep Anglican roots.

            Tonight is a reminder that despite whatever theological and cultural differences we may have, whatever divisions and disagreements we may still have, our truest and deepest identity is in Christ.

            Together, we Episcopalians, Reformed and otherwise, along with our friends from the Methodist tradition and Christians of all different stripes across our city and beyond, we are the Body of Christ in the world.

            Amen? Amen.

            The challenge, of course, is to live like we really are the Body of Christ.

            Especially in times like ours, especially in a time stained by fear and hatred and so much ugliness and, yes, sin, we need to resist the temptation of living just like everybody else.

            A few minutes ago we heard just a few verses from the first chapter Gospel of Mark.

            You know, I’m glad we have all the richness and detail of the other three gospels, but I love the barebones quality – the fast-paced speed – the economical storytelling - of the Gospel of Mark.

            Whenever I read it, I feel like Mark is in a hurry, that he just can’t wait to tell his story – can’t wait to tell THE story – can’t wait to tell the Good News of Jesus Christ.

            So, in just the few verses appointed for this evening, Mark tells us about Jesus’ baptism, when he heard a voice from heaven reveal his true identity:

            “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

            In just the few verses we heard tonight, Mark then tells us about the forty days of Jesus in the wilderness, tempted by Satan.

            And, in just the few verses we heard tonight, Mark tells us about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when the Lord calls people to repent because the kingdom of God has come near.

            In his fast-paced, barebones way, in just a few verses, Mark links together three elements of the Christian life: baptism, temptation, and ministry.

            Baptism, Temptation, and Ministry.

            My St. Paul’s people know that there’s little I love more than baptizing people. It’s one of the greatest joys and privileges of ordination and I’m sure my clergy brothers and sister would agree with me.

            And, I’m also sure that we could have some interesting and lively discussions about the meaning – or the many meanings - of Baptism, about what happens when we are washed in that holy water.

            For me, there are two meanings of Baptism that are most important.

            First, in the water of Baptism, God makes an unbreakable bond with us, that no matter what we do or don’t do in our lives, God’s bond with us can never be dissolved.

            No matter how hard we may try – and some of us try really hard – that holy water never really dries off.

            And, second, in Baptism, we sign up for the Christian life with all of its costly demands to love God, to love our neighbors as ourselves, to love even our enemies, to see Jesus Christ in one another and especially in the poor, the hungry, the thirsty, the imprisoned, and the naked.

            Since the baptized Jesus, and the baptized us, are called to this costly life of love and sacrifice, it’s no surprise at all that, man, the temptations come fast and furious – fast and furious for Jesus – and for us.

            You know, in his fast-paced and barebones way, Mark doesn’t stop and tell us exactly what temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness.

            Matthew and Luke, they give us more detail, telling us how Jesus is tempted to make bread and break his fast; tempted to throw himself from the Temple and put God to the test; tempted to crown himself as king of the all the earth, if only he bows down to Satan.

            But, Mark, he doesn’t give us those details, which, actually, I kind of like, because it allows us to fill in the blanks and imagine Jesus in the wilderness facing down all of the temptations that you and I face all the time.

            And, I think the greatest temptation that Jesus faced, not only during those wilderness days but throughout his ministry, is the greatest temptation that you and I face as baptized people here in Jersey City, here in our world today.

            The greatest temptation is to just live like everybody else.

            For Jesus, maybe the temptation was to try to forget the words from heaven he heard when he was baptized – to try to erase from his memory that God had revealed his special identity, that he was the Beloved.

            For Jesus, maybe the temptation was to just go back to the carpentry shop in Nazareth and live out his days with his family and friends – to let someone else proclaim the kingdom of God, to let someone else suffer the consequences.

            And, that’s the same temptation that you and I face every day.

            We’re tempted to forget our baptism, to try to erase from our memories that we are called to respond to God’s love by loving one another, by loving our neighbor, by, yes, even loving our enemies and those who do us wrong, to love them all as we love ourselves.

            We’re tempted to forget our baptism, to forget that we are not to judge one another based on how much or how little they have, that we are not to judge one another on the worst thing we ever did in our lives, that we are not to judge one another, period.

            We’re tempted to forget our baptism, tempted to forget that we are called to forgive and to forgive again, to give and not to count the cost, to share our spiritual bread and our baked bread, to share it with all of the many spiritually and physically hungry people who are all around us.

            We are tempted to forget our baptism and fool ourselves into thinking that this broken and suffering world is all that there is, and that there’s not enough for everybody, so we need to grab as much as we can for ourselves, to build ever higher walls and keep out strangers, that, no matter what, in the eyes of the world, we need to be winners and not losers.

            We are tempted to forget our baptism, to forget that there is one Body and one Spirit, one hope in God’s call to us, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all – we’re tempted to forget that while we Episcopalians and Methodists all have our beautiful and rich traditions, our truest and deepest identity is Christ.

            Yes, Jesus was tempted to be like everybody else – and so are we.

            But, we know that Christ was able to resist his temptations – he remembered the water of Baptism – he remembered the words from heaven – he remembered who he is and to whom he belonged – and he lived out his mission, giving away his life for us all.

            And, with God’s help we can resist our temptations – we can remember the water of Baptism – we can remember who we are and to whom we belong.

            And, as we resist and as we remember, then we, the Body of Christ, can take up our ministry – we can proclaim to all of Jersey City and Bayonne and beyond that the kingdom of God has indeed come near.

            We can call on our brothers and sisters to turn around, to change their ways, to repent – to join us in the great work of building God’s kingdom right here and right now.

            And, you know, that’s exactly what I see happening all around us – what I see happening here tonight.

            Especially over these past few years, in the face of violence and poverty and racism and hatred and deep divisions, in the face of so much sin, Christians in our community from many different traditions have come out from behind our church doors and walls.

            We have come together, not giving up our different ways of being church, but recognizing that we are much-loved brothers and sisters, that our truest and deepest identity is Christ.

            Joining with other people of goodwill, people of other faiths or no particular faith at all, we’ve formed Jersey City Together, working together in a way that we never have before to treat all of our fellow residents with the dignity they deserve.

            And, there are more and more opportunities for us to pray together out in the street, and during Lent and Holy Week, and right here this evening when this Episcopalian has the great honor of preaching in a Reformed Episcopal church, a reminder of the one baptism we all share and the one Lord we all try our best to follow.

            In just a few barebones and fast-paced words, the Evangelist Mark links together baptism, temptation, and ministry.

            Baptism, temptation, and ministry.

            God has made an unbreakable bond with us in Baptism, strengthening us to resist the many temptations we face, and giving us all the grace we need to be the Body of Christ, right here and right now.

            Thanks be to God.

            Amen.

           

           

            

Looking for Jesus, Hungry for Jesus

The Liturgical Churches Union of Jersey City and Vicinity

Lenten Worship Service

March 16, 2016

John 6:22-27

Looking for Jesus, Hungry for Jesus

            One of my favorite things to do – one of my greatest privileges as an Episcopal priest – is the opportunity to administer Communion, to give the Bread of Life to everyone who presents themselves to me at St. Paul’s.

            Now, I know that we have at least somewhat different theologies and practices when it comes to the Lord’s Supper.

            But, over at St. Paul’s the way we do it is during the Sunday service people line up, come forward, and either kneel or stand at the altar rail.

            As I make my way down the line, I’m often touched, really moved, by the different ways people receive communion.

            Some raise their outstretched hands high while others keep them low.

            Some seem to want to make eye contact with me, eager for a human connection in this sacred moment, while others keep their eyes downcast, humble in the face of this most personal encounter with the Lord.

            I love seeing all the many hands, all the different colors, the old hands creased by a lifetime of hard work, bent by the pain of arthritis, and the young hands, smooth and barely lined, full of the promise and hope of youth, and the middle aged hands beginning to show some wear and tear.

            And then there are the children.

            At St. Paul’s we leave it up to the parents to decide when their baptized children are ready to receive communion.

            Some parents let their kids receive at a very young age, and usually they come bounding up to the rail, excited, overjoyed, even. Do they really understand what they are about to receive? No, but neither does anybody else!

            And then there are the children whose parents won’t let them receive yet. Often the kids will put out their hands expectantly, maybe even defiantly, only to have their mom or dad gently push them down and ask me to simply bless the child.

            But, you know, their disappointed faces show all too clearly that those kids know that they’re missing out on the good stuff.

            All of those people – all of us – old and young – gather at the Lord’s Table to take the Bread of Life into our bodies and souls.

            Whether there’s communion or not, we come to church – on Sundays or on a Wednesday night or any other time because we are looking for Jesus – and we have at least some idea where to find him.

            Looking for Jesus.

            Say it with me: “Looking for Jesus!”

            We’ve been having a blessed Lent, haven’t we?

            It has been a gift these past few weeks to travel around to our different churches, to see all these different holy places where people look for and find Jesus, a gift to hear the preaching of my clergy sister and brothers, and to soak in the sound our amazing choirs.

            I’m thankful to Rev. Legay for his kind introduction and Rev. Dorothy Patterson for the honor of preaching in her pulpit. With God’s help, I hope to be worthy of your trust.

            Looking for Jesus.

            This Lent we’ve been traveling around Jersey City and now we’ve come to Bayonne, because we’re…looking for Jesus.

             Say it with me: “Looking for Jesus!”

            And, thank God, we have some idea where to find him.

            And, in tonight’s lesson from the Gospel of John we heard about some other people who were looking for Jesus, too.

            We need to back up a little, though, to the day before the events we heard about in tonight’s reading.

            Because that day was a really big day.

            The Evangelist John tells us that a huge crowd had been following Jesus, seeing the signs he was performing for the sick, but it had gotten late, probably people were so focused on Jesus they lost track of the time!

            Anyway, because the hour had grown late, Jesus asks Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?”

            Philip, he has no idea – all he knows is there’s definitely not enough food and certainly not enough money to feed all these people.

            Andrew helps out, managing to find a boy who’s got some food, but it’s only just five barley loaves and two fish, surely nowhere near enough.

            But, you know the rest, right?

            With Jesus, there’s more than enough for everybody.

            I imagine the people sitting on the grass that day, passing around the seemingly bottomless baskets of bread and fish, stretching out their hands, their hands worn from first century hard work, taking this mysterious food into their bodies.

            They didn’t understand at all what was happening but they knew that this was the good stuff – and knew that they wanted more!

            John tells us later that night the disciples got into a boat without Jesus and started out across the sea. A rough storm kicked up and suddenly they saw Jesus walking towards them – and they were terrified – terrified to see their Lord walking on the water.

            Jesus tells his terrified friends, “It is I; do not be afraid.”

            Which can also be translated, “I am; do not be afraid.”

            The disciples are beginning to realize that Jesus is more than a teacher, more than a prophet, more than a miracle-worker.

            In and through Jesus, God, the great “I Am,” has come among us.

            It was a really big day.

            Now, we pick up the next day with this evening’s lesson.

            The crowd from the day before who had eaten all of that bread and fish, all that good stuff, they discover Jesus and his disciples have departed and so they get into their boats and row to the other side, looking for Jesus.

            Say it with me: “Looking for Jesus!”

            They’re looking for Jesus, but like us, they don’t really understand who Jesus is – they don’t understand the meaning of the bread and fish they had received yesterday.

            They call Jesus “rabbi, “ which is true enough, but we know  - and the disciples are beginning to realize - that he’s so much more than that.

            Jesus tells them that they’re only looking for him because they ate up all the bread yesterday and now they want some more.

            Can’t you imagine him saying that with a little half-smile?

            And, you know, maybe they do want more bread and fish, maybe they were hungry to see what Jesus would whip up for breakfast, maybe they were eager for another miracle, another spectacle, another sign.

            But, the bottom line is that those people from long ago who rowed across the sea, with their imperfect understanding, they were looking for Jesus.

            Say it with me: “Looking for Jesus!”

            And, you know, we’re not so different from those people long ago who were well fed by Jesus, who got a taste of the good stuff, who didn’t understand everything – how can we?

            Like them, we know where to look for Jesus.

             We know to come back to our churches week after week where we are fed by the Word of God, where we are fed by the preaching (no comment, St. Paul’s!), where we are fed by the music, where we are fed by the sacraments, where we are fed by the fellowship, where we are fed by the gift and privilege of serving and loving one another.

            Like those people long ago rowing their boats across the sea, we’ve gotten a taste of the good stuff – a taste of the best stuff of all – and we want more, so we go looking for Jesus – we go looking for Jesus in our churches – we go looking for Jesus right here during this Lenten series.

            We’re looking for Jesus – and, thank God, we know where to find him.

            Amen? Amen!

            But…but, there are so many people out there who are hungry for Jesus. So many people out there who can’t find Jesus, or who haven’t found him, yet.

            There are so many people out there who don’t even know where to begin looking for Jesus.

            We know these people, don’t we?

            In fact, maybe we used to be them.

            We know those men and women overwhelmed by life, all those bills that somehow need to get paid, the challenge of raising children in hard, dangerous neighborhoods with substandard schools, the burden of being stained forever by past mistakes, the seemingly pointless search for a job, the fear of illness and death, the enslavement to drugs or alcohol.

            We know these people who are hungry for Jesus.

            Say it with me: “Hungry for Jesus!”

            So many people are hungry for Jesus but they don’t know where to begin looking for him because maybe they’ve been hurt by the church. Maybe they’ve been abused by the church one way or another – we know that happens more often than we’d care to admit.

            So many people are hungry for Jesus but they can’t find him because maybe they’re turned off by the loudest and most famous and, yes, I’ll say it, richest “Christian” leaders in our country who preach the law before love, who are quick to judge and condemn and slow to forgive, who throw their considerable power and prestige behind political candidates who promote hate and feed fear.

            So many people are hungry for Jesus but they don’t know where to begin looking for him maybe because of “Christian” leaders who puff themselves up, who live in mansions and fly around in private jets while supposedly humbly following Jesus of Nazareth - Jesus who had no place to rest his head, Jesus who called on the rich young man to give away his possessions to the poor and follow him.

            Say it with me: “Hungry for Jesus!”

            And, yes, so many people are hungry for Jesus but they can’t find him because of us.

            Our churches can so easily become safe little clubs where we get to hang out with people just like us, people we’ve known a long time and love and trust – safe little exclusive clubs where too often the stranger is looked at with suspicion or, maybe even worse, is pounced upon as he or she walks through the door for the first time: fresh blood who can do some of the church work we’re so tired of doing.           

            Our churches have so often retreated into ourselves – into our little church politics and our irrelevant disputes that look completely ridiculous to the outside world.

            We’ve stopped going out to the street and stopped being with the people, being with the people who are so hungry for Jesus – who are starving for Jesus.

            People are looking for Jesus.

            People are hungry for Jesus.

            My favorite definition of evangelism is one maybe you’ve heard. It’s from a 20th Century Sri Lankan Methodist pastor named D.T. Niles.

            He said, “Evangelism is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”

            “Evangelism is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”

            I love that.

            My brothers and sisters, we are the beggars who know where to find the bread.

            We are the beggars who know where to find the good stuff.

            We are the beggars who know where to find Jesus – we may not always understand him – how could we? – but, we know where to look for Jesus and we know where to find Jesus.

            Now, maybe more than ever, we’re called to be the beggars who tell the other beggars where to find the bread.

            Through our deeds and words, we’re called to tell the people in our own families.

            Through our deeds and words, we’re called to tell the people across the hall or across the street who are burdened and worn down by life.

            Through our deeds and words, we’re called to tell the people who’ve been hurt, disappointed, or just plain disgusted by the church.

            Through our deeds and words, we’re called to tell the kids on the corner, maybe just hanging out or maybe up to no good.

            We’re called to tell them all – tell them through our very lives – through our lives of love and generosity – we’re called to tell them that we’ve looked for Jesus and, yes, we’ve found him – we know where to find the bread – we know where to find the good stuff.

            We know, so come on over.

            And if we share this Good News – if we share this best news of all time – more and more of us will gather with our hands of different colors, our hands lined, creased and bent, our hands smooth, our hands lifted up, hungry and ready to find Jesus and be fed by Jesus, ready to take Jesus into our bodies and our souls.

            People are looking for Jesus.

            People are hungry for Jesus.

            So, my fellow beggars, it’s time, actually it’s long past time, for us to tell those beggars out there, to show them where to find the bread, where to find the good stuff, where to find Jesus.

            Amen.

           

Jesus Invites Himself Over

Liturgical Churches Union of Jersey City and Vicinity

St. Michael’s Methodist Church, Jersey City NJ

March 31, 2015

Tuesday in Holy Week

Luke 19:1-10

Jesus Invites Himself Over

            “When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’”

            First, I want to thank my friend Rev. Thomas and the people of St. Michael’s Methodist Church for inviting me – inviting us – to stay here in God’s house with you, for a time. I’m especially grateful to Rev. Thomas for sharing his pulpit with me. It is a real privilege and, with God’s help, I’ll do my best to honor your trust.

            And thanks also to our president and my friend and colleague, The Rev. Nathaniel Legay for inviting me to preach at a Liturgical Churches Union service once again.

            And I know we are all grateful to him for revitalizing and expanding the rich tradition of these Lenten services – services that I know have spiritually fed so many of us during this holy season.

            My church, St. Paul’s Episcopal, and I are new to the Liturgical Churches Union so I realize that many of you may not know much about me or our church.

            For starters, my wife and I and our four cats – yes, four cats…I know…I know… - live in the St. Paul’s rectory which is right next door to our church on Duncan Avenue.

            It’s not just next door but it has the same kind of shingles as the church and has a sign on the front door that says, “St. Paul’s Rectory” so everybody knows that this house is attached to the church – that this is the house where the priest or the minister lives.

            To be honest, this has pluses and minuses.

            The house is very nice and much bigger than my wife and I – and our four cats, yes four cats – need. (Though you might be surprised about how much space four cats can take up!)

            Living next door to church is incredibly convenient for me.  Aside from people who work at home, I literally have the easiest commute ever.

            But, I have to admit there are downsides.

            Sometimes it feels like I’m always at work.

            And, of course, since the rectory is very clearly part of the church, we do get a fair number of people coming to the door.

            I should mention that our doorbell is very old and sounds really more like a buzzer than a bell or a chime.

            So, it’s not so unusual for my wife and I and our four cats – yes, four cats – to be sitting in the living room in the evening maybe watching TV or reading or maybe even dozing off when suddenly:

            BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

            When the doorbell buzzes my wife and I jump, and the four cats - yes four cats - take off scattering to all corners of the house.

            My wife and I are sort of private people and, I’ll be honest, that when the bell rings I often grumble – I kind of resent – that my privacy is being disturbed.

            Sometimes it’s somebody who’s looking for the AA meeting or some other event that’s in our Parish Hall and they somehow think that the sign that says “St. Paul’s Rectory” must mean that this is the hall.

            More often, it’s someone – usually bleary-eyed and with the smell of alcohol on his or her breath – someone who greets me with a tale of woe.

            “My car broke down and I just need $30 bucks to get it fixed…”

            “Father, I need money for a train ticket to go to my sister’s place in Trenton…”

            “I need money for a prescription.”

            “I’m hungry.”

            “Can you help me?”

            “Please help me.”

            Today’s scripture passage – the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector – got me thinking about all these people coming to my door, in a way inviting themselves into my life, in a way, inviting themselves into my home.

            Mark, Matthew, and Luke all tell us that Jesus approached Jerusalem through Jericho, but only Luke gives us this story of Zacchaeus.

            The name “Zacchaeus” means “righteous” or “upright” but as a “Chief tax collector” he wasn’t righteous or upright – he was part of a corrupt economic system that sucked the meager resources of the poor to support the power and oppression of the Roman Empire.

            And, just in case we don’t get it, Luke tells us that he was rich.

            Well, of course he was!

            But, this chief tax collector – this rich man who was probably the least popular person in Jericho – this crook - he wants to see Jesus.

            Luke tells us, “but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature.”

            The Jericho crowd must have been shocked – and Zacchaeus must have been really, really shocked - when Jesus looks up at the rich, despised, and, probably, short man in the sycamore tree and says,
            “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”

            Jesus invites himself over.

            Jesus… rings Zacchaeus’ doorbell.

            And, how does Zacchaeus respond?

            He doesn’t grumble about his privacy.

            He doesn’t make excuses that he hasn’t had chance to straighten up – that his place is a mess.

            He doesn’t say this really isn’t a good time.

            He doesn’t say he’s afraid to open his house because there are so many people in Jericho who hate him.

            No, Luke tells us that Zacchaeus “hurried down and was happy to welcome” Jesus.

            As usual, it’s the crowd of busybodies that grumbles that Jesus is hanging out with the wrong people. They say that Jesus “has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”

            But, look what happens when Zacchaeus welcomes Jesus into his home.

            He finally lives up to the meaning of his name – maybe for the first time in his life he really is “righteous” and “upright.”

            Zacchaeus says to Jesus, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”

            And, much like the father rejoicing at the return of the Prodigal Son, Jesus rejoices at the transformation of Zacchaeus.

            “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham.”

            Jesus invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house.

            Zacchaeus welcomed him.

            And, that invitation - and that welcome - changes everything.

            So, what does the story of Zacchaeus have to do with us here this evening?

            Well, it seems to me that Jesus is inviting himself over all the time.

            That might be quite literally like when someone rings my doorbell looking for help because their car has broken down or they need money for a train ticket to Trenton, or whatever.

            Those stories may not – and, let’s be honest, probably aren’t true – but what is true is that the person standing at the door is in need – is in distress.

            What is true is that this person with the bleary eyes and the stink of alcohol on his breath is indeed Jesus inviting himself over to my house.

            And how I – how we – respond to that invitation can change everything.

            Now, I realize only too well that for many of us, opening the door to a stranger is simply too risky in our city filled with so much violence and danger.

            Not all of us have four cats – yes, four cats – to protect us from people who might want to harm us.

            But, Jesus also invites himself over in ways that aren’t quite so literal as ringing our doorbell.

            Jesus invites himself over when a stranger or a newcomer joins us for worship.

            Do we greet that person as if he or she was Jesus himself?

            Or are we suspicious, wondering why they’re here, what do they want from us?

            Do we look at them and think they won’t fit in here – they don’t belong with us – they’d do better at some other church?

            Or, maybe even worse, do we look at them and immediately think of all the ways they might help the church by serving on committees or whatever – and through their financial offerings?

            Jesus invites himself over.

            And how we respond changes everything.

            Jesus invites himself over through all of the people who are in need all around us – even right here in this room this evening - the person who doesn’t have enough to eat or a place to stay – the person who is lonely and feeling hopeless – the person who has failed at pretty much everything they’ve ever tried – the person who is burdened by secrets and regrets – the person who is frightened by illness or death.

            Jesus invites himself over.

            And how we respond changes everything.

            And during Holy Week, Jesus invites himself over, inviting us to take up our cross and walk with him to Calvary.

            During Holy Week, Jesus especially invites himself over, inviting us to see his friends betray him, abandon him, and deny him. Jesus invites himself over, inviting us look at the faces of the people as they mock him and beat him, as they place the crown of thorns on his head, as they drive nails into him, as they kill him as if he were a common criminal.

            Especially during Holy Week, Jesus invites himself over.

            How do we respond?

            Do we turn away and just wait for the sweet fragrance of Easter or do we let the beaten, broken, and bloody Jesus into our lives?

            Jesus invites himself over all the time.

            And how we respond can change everything.

            One last story – from last New Year’s Eve.

            I know that many of your churches have New Year’s Eve services but over at St. Paul’s we’ve been having services on New Year’s Day at 10:00am.

            So, this last New Year’s Eve my wife and I were home in the rectory with our four cats – yes, four cats – dozing off on the couch when at about 10:00 when suddenly:

            BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

            Yes, the doorbell rang.

            My wife and I both jumped and the four cats scattered to all corners of the house.

            I’ll be honest. I thought, oh great, it’s probably someone already half-bombed out of their mind looking for some more money to keep the party going.

            I almost didn’t answer the door but my conscience got to me.

            I opened the door and there was a man I didn’t know standing there in the cold under the harsh fluorescent light of our porch.

            He said he had come to the church looking for the New Year’s Eve service but saw that the church was dark.

            I explained that we’d be having our service in the morning and that he was welcome to join us.

            And then he said that I should know that when he tried to open the front door of the church he found that it wasn’t completely locked.

            We had in fact been having trouble with that lock so I went over to the church with him and sure enough it wasn’t completely locked and with a good yank anybody could’ve gotten in and discovered our church all set up for the big service in the morning – and, to say the least, could have truly ruined the start of our new year.

            Jesus invited himself over to St. Paul’s that night.

            And, long ago, Jesus invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house. Zacchaeus welcomed him - and that changed everything.

            Jesus invites himself over all the time.

            And how we respond changes everything.

            Amen. 

Worshiping the Father in Spirit and Truth

Liturgical Churches Union of Jersey City and Vicinity

Clair Memorial United Methodist Church

March 18, 2015

John 4:1-26

Worshiping the Father in Spirit and Truth

            Jesus said, “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.”

            First, let me begin by saying what an honor and joy it is to be here with you all this evening.

            I am especially grateful to Rev. Albert Barchue for allowing me to preach in this pulpit, here at Clair Memorial, this building, this church, which is such a powerful living symbol for all of us in Jersey City – a powerful living symbol of faithful endurance and resurrection in the midst of fiery destruction and loss.

            I am also grateful to our president, my friend, Rev. Nathaniel Legay, for inviting me and the people of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church to be part of the Liturgical Churches Union - and inviting me to preach tonight.

            I trust I wasn’t only invited because of my reputation for relatively short sermons!

            And special thank you to the parishioners from St. Paul’s and Incarnation – especially members of our choirs – who braved the cold to be here tonight.

            A story.

            My father is in his early 70s and still very active – he still teaches fulltime at Marist High School in Bayonne. And he also continues to be a student - a lifelong learner - often attending seminars and other programs in New York City.

            Anyway, a couple of weeks ago he had gone to one of these seminars and was beginning to make his way home to Jersey City. It was about 9:00 at night. He was walking down the stairs into the subway when suddenly he fell down onto the ground.

            It was a shocking moment. He didn’t know what had happened to him. Had he missed a step? Had he broken his leg? His hip? He was frightened and confused.

            Almost immediately two strangers – two young women - stopped to care for my dad. They called 911 to get him an ambulance and they stayed with him, protecting him from the crowds of people going up and down the stairs. They stayed with him until the ambulance came and took him to the hospital.

            My father needed to have surgery on his knee but is doing well and I expect in the near future will be back to his life and back in the classroom.

            As my family and I have thought about and retold this story we always give thanks that, instead of just stepping around my father, those two young women took the time to care for my father.

            And we and pretty much everybody else who’s heard the story has used the same term to describe them: Good Samaritans.

            They were indeed “Good Samaritans.”

            And, of course, that term comes from the best-known Samaritan in the New Testament – the unnamed good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable about mercy that’s found in the Gospel of Luke.

            After a couple of thousand years of retelling and reflecting on the Parable of the Good Samaritan it’s hard for us to think of any other kind of Samaritan, right?

            But, Jews of the First Century had a very different view of Samaritans.

            The Samaritans were descended from the lost tribes of the old northern kingdom of Israel many of whom had intermarried with Babylonian invaders, creating a mixed society that was similar in a lot of ways – they worshiped the same God and read the same Scripture – but they were different, too.

            The Samaritans rejected the Jerusalem Temple preferring to worship on Mount Gerizim.

            And, as is so often the case, it seems that the Samaritans and the Jews focused on the few differences that separated them rather than their common devotion to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

            In this evening’s passage from the Gospel of John we meet the second-best known Samaritan in the New Testament, the unnamed woman at the well.

            We don’t really know if the woman is a “good Samaritan” or not.

            There’s some question about those five husbands – and the one she had now who is not her husband.

            And, why is she going to get water at noon – at the hottest time of day? Was she trying to avoid the other women who, maybe, gave her a hard time about those five husbands and the one she had now who is not her husband.

            So, we don’t know if she’s a “good Samaritan” or not.

            Then, along comes Jesus.

            As usual, Jesus doesn’t seem particularly interested in or concerned about the boundaries that separate people.

            Generally, it seems that Jews like Jesus didn’t talk with Samaritans, let alone strange Samaritan women, not to mention a Samaritan woman who’s had five husbands and is now with one who is not her husband.

            But, Jesus does what Jesus always does. Jesus breaks through the boundaries – breaks through the boundaries between Jews and Samaritans, between men and women, and strikes up a conversation with this Samaritan woman.

            “Give me a drink.”

            As is often true in the Gospel of John, Jesus and other people talk past each other – they ‘re talking on different levels.

            Jesus talks about the living water that he offers and the woman thinks that’s awfully big talk for a guy with no bucket.

            But, throughout this kind of confused conversation, the woman remains open to Jesus. She doesn’t know exactly what this “living water” is but she wants it.

            And Jesus reveals more about her – later she tells the people of the city that he told her “everything” she had ever done.

            And Jesus reveals more about himself than he has with anyone else yet in the Gospel of John. He tells her that he is the messiah.

            And Jesus also reveals to this maybe not very good Samaritan woman a vision of the kingdom of God. God’s kingdom is bigger than Mount Zion and Mount Gerizim. Jesus tells her:

            “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.”

            “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.”

            So, I guess the question for us is, are we true worshipers worshiping the Father in spirit and truth?

            For me, the answer is, sometimes.

            We are worshipers in spirit and truth when, like Jesus, we break down the barriers that divide us into Jews and Samaritans, Catholics and Protestants, blacks and whites.

            And, we don’t have to look far – not far at all – to see examples of true worshipers breaking down the barriers.

            I’ve always been moved by the story of the fire that ravaged this church on Tuesday, April 10, 2001 – the Tuesday of Holy Week that year.

            As many of you will remember, the next day the board of Temple Beth-El invited the people of Clair Memorial to hold their Easter services at the temple and then continue to worship at the temple until the church was repaired.

            The kingdom of God is bigger that Mount Zion and Mount Gerizim.

            The kingdom of God is bigger than Clair Memorial and Temple Beth-El.

            Barriers between Jews and Christians were broken down and the true worshipers worshiped the Father in Sprit and in truth.

            Another example of true worshipers breaking down the barriers, one that’s also close at hand.

            I’m very aware that until very recently the organization sponsoring tonight’s Lenten Prayer Service was called the “Black Liturgical Churches Union.”

            Something changed this year.

            I’ll let you guess what it was.

            Following the example of Jesus, Pastor Legay didn’t hesitate to knock down the barrier that could have existed between us, warmly inviting me to part of this group and asking if St. Paul’s would be willing to host one of the Wednesday services, which we did for the first time ever a couple of weeks ago.

            Now, I know what some of you might be thinking. Maybe this was a misunderstanding. My last name is Murphy so I could have been black. But, I want to assure you that before inviting me to be part of the Liturgical Churches Union group Pastor Legay had met me in person on numerous occasions and was very well aware that I’m white!

            Still, he extended his hand in friendship and brotherhood and I’m grateful.

            The kingdom of God is bigger than Mount Zion and Mount Gerizim.

            The kingdom of God is bigger than black and white.

            Barriers between blacks and whites were broken down and the true worshipers are worshiping the Father in Sprit and in truth.

            One last example of true worshipers breaking down the barriers.

            On Good Friday, for the second year in a row, Christians from many different churches and denominations will make the Stations of the Cross on the streets of Jersey City. We’ll remember Jesus’ journey to the cross and we’ll also remember the victims of violence right here in our own community. Each of the fourteen stations will be at a place where violence has taken place right here in Jersey City.

            On Good Friday, we’ll worship the Father in spirit and in truth as we make our way along our often blood-soaked streets.

            For about two hours, we’ll offer a powerful witness as Protestants and Catholics join hands, praying for the victims of violence and for peace at last in our city.

            I hope you’ll join us.

            (And we start at 9:30 in the morning - early enough so that you can still make the IMA service at Mt. Olive Baptist Church!)

            It’s still Lent – and Lent is the perfect time to deny ourselves our prejudices, to break through ourselves the barriers we set up to separate us from different kinds of people.

            Lent is the perfect time to follow the example of Jesus and walk right into Samaria – walk right into an alien land – walk right into the land filled with good people and not so good people – walk right into the land with people we don’t know and maybe even don’t like or don’t trust - and knock down the barriers that divide us.

            Lent is the perfect time to follow the example of Jesus and strike up a conversation with the outcast, the person who the world doesn’t see as a “good” – or maybe the one who the world just doesn’t see - the one who’s forced to gather her water in the midday heat to avoid the gossips, to steer clear of the so-called good people, maybe hoping to avoid people… just like us.

            Lent is the perfect time to really, at long last, be true worshipers, not just worshiping God on Mount Zion or Mount Gerizim – not just worshiping God at Clair Memorial or Temple Beth-El or at St. Paul’s – not just worshiping God with people who look and think like us – but Lent is the perfect time to unite and worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.

            May it be so.

            Amen.