Transfiguration and Transformation

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: The Feast of the Transfiguration
August 6, 2006

Exodus 34: 29-35
2 Peter 1: 13-25
Luke 9: 28-36
Psalm 99

Transfiguration and Transformation

Well, sisters and brothers, it’s always nice to come home to House of Prayer! And it’s especially nice to be here for Transfiguration, one of the major feasts of the church. I’m sure that most of us have something really special planned for this afternoon – maybe a traditional Transfiguration dinner and then later we’ll exchange Transfiguration gifts? I see Stella is here, back from Florida. I know she has a big Transfiguration party tonight. I wasn’t invited, though. I guess it must be “out of sight out of mind…” I’m sorry that this year I didn’t get around to sending out Transfiguration cards…you know, it’s been kind of busy…Hmm…you’re looking at me kind of funny. Don’t tell me you don’t have special Transfiguration customs here at House of Prayer!? Oh boy, I’ll have to talk about this with Pastor Judy when she returns!

I’m just kidding, of course. Although it really is one of the most important feasts of the church - maybe because for us it falls in the summer - the truth is that Transfiguration doesn’t get a whole lot of attention. And that’s too bad. Transfiguration is about what happens to Jesus on the mountain. But, Transfiguration is also about what happens to Peter. Transfiguration is also about what happens to us. Peter opens his heart to the power of God in Jesus Christ and he is transformed. And if we open our hearts to God’s power we can be transformed too.

Besides the fact that it’s summertime, I suspect there’s a deeper more troubling reason that we ignore Transfiguration. The scene that Luke depicts in today’s gospel lesson is really mysterious and strange. It’s very hard to explain exactly what’s happening here. We have the familiar scene of Jesus going off to the mountain to pray and Peter and some of the other disciples struggling to stay awake. So far, so good. But then Jesus is mysteriously transformed and then Moses and Elijah appear “in glory” talking to Jesus. And then, as if this wasn’t enough for one night, the voice of God commands, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Wow! This is a lot to take in and to try to make sense of. Listening to Luke’s account I think we can hear him straining to come up with the words to somehow describe this awesome experience. And so, since the Transfiguration story is so mysterious and supernatural, we’re more than happy to let it pass by and not spend too much time trying to figure out what all this might mean for us.

And you know what, we can just skip over the Transfiguration… unless of course you’re asked to preach on the Transfiguration! So as I thought about and prayed about the Transfiguration, first of all I realized I was very relieved that Peter was there and that we have a record of what he had to say about all of this. I’m always happy when Peter appears in the gospels because so often he’s a really good stand-in for us. Over and over Peter – this great apostle and saint - tries his best but let’s face it much of the time he really just doesn’t get it. So the good news is that there’s hope for us all!

So, anyway, Peter witnesses this amazing event on the mountain and what’s his response to all that he’s seen and heard? I know, let’s build three booths – one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah. We’ve just had a wonderful, powerful experience – let’s build a shrine, this way we can come back and remember the Transfiguration year after year.

Now I think this is a perfectly reasonable response. I’m a big local history fan and I enjoy reading historical markers that tell me on this spot in this year something important happened. In fact there’s a historical marker right outside on the front of the rectory telling the story of that old building and the 1887 invention of motion picture film upstairs in the attic. Now that’s some important history, but just imagine if we had seen Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! We would definitely want to put some kind of monument to mark the spot. And each year we would come back and remember that amazing experience. “Remember when we saw Jesus on Broad Street? Were you there? Oh sure, I saw him too. Wasn’t that something?” But the truth is, year by year our memory would fade and eventually all of us who experienced this amazing event would be gone. And our monument would just be collecting dust on the side of the road.

So, Peter’s suggestion is perfectly reasonable. He says, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” And then Luke adds, “Not knowing what he said.” Peter’s suggestion is reasonable, but unfortunately he just doesn’t get it. At least not yet. The Transfiguration is not about marking the spot where exactly these events took place. The Transfiguration is about Jesus, God’s beloved Son, God’s Chosen One. And the Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place in us when we open our hearts to the power of God in Jesus Christ. The Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place when we do what the voice of God says – listen to Jesus! Transfiguration is about something that never fades away.

But because we resist opening our hearts to this transformation in Christ, just like Peter we’re more than happy to move along onto next week’s subject.

But this is a huge mistake. Because if we do give in to fear and just ignore the Transfiguration we’re missing out on who we are really called to be. And unless we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ I believe there can be no meaningful and lasting transformation in our lives and in the world. No transformation in us – no transformation in the world. And I think we can all agree now more than ever the world desperately needs to be transformed. The world needs Jesus and the world needs us!

One of the nice things about today’s lessons is that not only do we get to hear from Peter at the Transfiguration; we also get to hear from Peter near the end of his life in the reading from Second Peter. Now we hear from a wiser Peter who has reflected for many years on what he had experienced with Jesus. I’m sure there were times when he wondered if it had all been a dream. Was that really Moses and Elijah talking with the Lord?

But after all those years of prayer and reflection the voice of old Peter insists that what he saw and heard on that mountain was real. And then he uses a very beautiful expression when he says that we should pay attention to his message “as to a lamp in a dark place.” “As to a lamp in a dark place.” Peter has spent years praying, thinking, reflecting on his experiences with Jesus and the other disciples. And what has happened to him? Peter has been transformed. Peter has grown from being that sincere but bumbling fisherman to being a great Christian leader who now is passing on his wisdom to the next generation.

Transfiguration – the power of God to transform us. And the good news for Peter - and for us - is that we don’t have to “get it”. The most important thing is for us to be open to the power of God working in us and in the world around us. Openness can be hard. It’s easy to close ourselves up. But for Peter and for us that openness to God’s power comes through prayer and simply paying attention. Look at the Transfiguration story again. It’s no accident that all this happens when Jesus has gone to the mountain to pray. And Peter and the other disciples are able to see this amazing scene because they are paying attention – they have stayed awake and they have seen God powerfully at work in the world around them.

Prayer and paying attention – as to a lamp shining in a dark place. It’s really as simple, and as awesome as that. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our own transformation into the people God dreams we will be. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our transformation into the people who we really are.

And what would our transformation look like? We know the answer to that. Just look around. We experience some of that transformation each week here at House of Prayer. Our transformation would look like – it would be – love. Our transformation takes us from being maybe self-centered, frightened, suspicious, doubtful people into loving people. We become people who love without counting the cost. We can become people who really do see Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! That’s the power of Transfiguration.

Again, think of Peter. This fisherman who doesn’t really “get it” is transformed into a man who gives up everything for Christ. At the end, according to tradition, he gives even his very life for Christ when he is crucified in Rome.

Since this transformation makes us who we really are, we adults ought to pay more attention to young children as our role models in life and in faith. Children who have not yet become hardened and cynical by the world. Here’s one example: Last weekend Sue and I were at a child’s birthday party. One of the kids there was a five year old boy named Thomas. In his young life Thomas has already had his fair share of troubles – his parents have split up he’s had some behavioral problems. Anyway, that afternoon he was happily playing with another five year old boy, a kid he barely knew, named Noah. After a while Thomas came over to his dad and with great seriousness and sincerity said, “I love Noah so much.”

Now I admit that my first thought was to dismiss him: “Oh that’s very cute. But, come on, give me a break, you don’t love Noah – you don’t even know him! You’re too young to even know what love even is!” But this week as I reflected on the Transfiguration I kept going back to that little moment at the party. I came to see that young Thomas’s declaration of love for his new friend Noah was a beautiful glimpse of what our transformed, transfigured lives, can be. His innocent words were a reminder of who we really are and of who God calls us to be. When we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ - we love!

So there you have it. Maybe we should have a Transfiguration party! Happy Transfiguration Day! Let’s set aside our fears and on this summer day let’s celebrate Jesus, God’s Chosen One. Let’s celebrate God’s power to transform us and our world. Today we are reminded that all we need to do is open our hearts, through prayer and paying attention, to God’s presence and power among us. Like Peter we can know Jesus as God’s Chosen One. Like Peter we can be transformed. Like Peter our message of love can be like a lamp shining in a world that has grown very dark. And like a little boy named Thomas we can say to our brothers and sisters, “I love you so much.”

Amen.

Mustard Seed Moments

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: Proper 6
The Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 18, 2006

Ezekiel 31:1-6, 10-14
2 Corinthians 5:1-10
Mark 4:26-34
Psalm 92

Mustard Seed Moments

Being a city person, sometimes the farming examples in the Bible leave me a little confused and scratching my head. I mean, in Jersey City the closest I ever get to a farm is the produce section at Shop Rite!

But in today’s gospel Jesus describes the Kingdom of God using a farming example that even us city people can understand.

What is the Kingdom of God like? It’s like someone scattering a tiny mustard seed on the ground and miraculously it grows into a plant, ripe for the harvest. It grows into a plant big and sturdy enough to hold a bird’s nest. These tiny seeds eventually provide food and shelter for many.

I think we can understand this seed image because if we think about it we are here in church because we have experienced people planting tiny mustard seeds in our own lives. We have experienced simple acts of kindness and generosity. Acts of faith and hope. Maybe these seeds were planted by our parents. I think the mustard seed parable is especially appropriate for Father’s Day because, at their best, fathers are called to do lots of small but deeply powerful things for their families. My father is a teacher now, but when my sister and I were growing up he had an office job that he hated. Yet, day after day he got up in the morning and forced himself to do something he really didn’t want to do – for us. To the world, this is a simple, little thing, not really worth mentioning – just one man taking care of his family, doing his duty. But of course there’s nothing simple or little about it. Like so many others, through his sacrifice he was planting seeds of love and hope in his family. That’s what the Kingdom of God is like.

You’ll notice that Jesus is not talking about the past or the future. Instead, by using the simple example of a seed, Jesus is reminding us of something amazing and wonderful – truly Good News - we can begin to experience the Kingdom of God here on earth. We can experience the Kingdom of God out in the fields or even right here on the streets of Newark. If we really pay attention, if we are mindful, we can experience the Kingdom of God right here, right now. If we really pay attention, if we open our hearts to the Holy Spirit and plant even the tiniest of seeds we can help to build the Kingdom of God, right here at House of Prayer and right now in June of 2006.

I don’t know about you, but I am relieved that Jesus uses the tiny mustard seed as his example of the Kingdom of God. Anything bigger than a mustard seed would be just too much to handle. You know, since I have been off from school I’ve had some extra time to read the newspaper. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that in many ways things are not going very well in our cities, our world, and our church. The paper is filled with senseless death and destruction – and not only in faraway places like Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s really overwhelming – way too much to handle. Just this past week in my hometown Jersey City a young man was stabbed and killed right in the middle of Journal Square and a teenage girl hanging out on a cliff drinking beer fell to her death while reaching for her cell phone. What in the world can we do to stop our young people – or people of any age – from putting themselves or others in danger? Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark. What can we in this little church do to stop this terrible waste of precious life? The challenges facing our cities seem overwhelming – way too much to handle.

And then there’s the world itself. Again, I don’t need to tell you that the newspaper is filled with stories of war, famine, corruption, and pollution. Many millions of people around the world and in our own country live in fear of natural disasters. Did you see the devastation in Indonesia after the recent earthquake – and now many of these same people are facing a volcano that is erupting! And, of course, much of our own Gulf Coast still lies in ruins after last year’s storms – and another hurricane season has already begun. The challenges and problems of the world seem overwhelming – way too much to handle. Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark, what can we do?

And, lastly, you may have heard that these days we have a few problems in the Episcopal Church. As many of you know, (and a couple of our young people are experiencing) right now the Episcopal Church is in the middle of its General Convention, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between those who think gay people should be fully welcomed and celebrated by the church and those who believe that by accepting homosexuality the church is turning away from God - rejecting the Bible and two thousand years of Christian teaching. The church is trying to hold together people who say that the Holy Spirit has led us to a new understanding and people who think we have fallen into Satan’s trap. What in the world can we here at House of Prayer do about this? Let’s face it, we’re just a little church in Newark. Really, what can we do? The challenges facing the Episcopal Church seem overwhelming – way too much to handle.

So, have I got you feeling overwhelmed yet? Is there anything we can really do about all these problems? Is there anything we can really do to ease all this suffering? What can we do? Jesus gives us the answer in today’s gospel. Here’s the Good News. Jesus says we are all called to begin small – just a mustard seed – and then we are called to trust that God will take the tiny seed that we plant and grow something that feeds and shelters many. What a relief – we don’t have to do everything. All we need to do is to open our hearts and allow God to work through us. All we need to do is to pay attention, to be mindful, to look for opportunities to plant seeds. We don’t know how God will work with what we have planted – just as the farmer doesn’t know how the seed grows into the shrub. All we Christian “farmers” need to do is to look for what we might call “mustard seed moments” – chances for us to plant seeds and then let God do the rest.

Getting ready for today’s sermon these past few days I have been on the lookout for some of these “mustard seed moments.” I’d like to share a couple with you.

My home parish, St. Paul’s in Jersey City, runs a summer program for kids. I have seen the program in action a few times – I’ve actually tried to do some Bible study with these kids, and believe me they ask some really tough questions! Anyway, it’s a great program – a fun, safe place for city kids in the summer. It’s a bargain, but in reality of course some people in the community can’t afford it. This year a member of the choir – a professional singer who I’ve always thought of as a nice, talented person but not really part of the parish – offered to pay the entire fee for one kid during the summer. That’s over 600 dollars. This was offered quietly and privately from someone who came to church to sing but apparently realizes the Christian life calls us to give of ourselves. It’s a quiet, generous, powerful “mustard seed moment.” And who knows what God will do with this act? How will this child be affected by spending the summer at St. Paul’s? How will others be transformed by this selfless act? What kind of plant will be produced by this tiny mustard seed?

Now someone you know. Of course, Lucye has been organizing an upcoming trip with young people to go down to New Orleans and to help with the rebuilding. I should let her tell the story but last week she and some of her crew went to St. Stephen’s in Millburn. They talked about what they hope to do and then offered the parishioners at St. Stephen’s the chance to write a prayer or a message of hope on the work gloves that they will be using in Louisiana. What a great idea and what a powerful symbol! The people of St. Stephen’s offered not only their prayers but also over 600 dollars for this effort. Mustard seeds are being planted in Millburn, too! Is this trip going to solve the problems of the Gulf Coast? Of course not, but who knows what God is going to do with this work and those prayers? In a real sense, thanks to God, all the mustard seeds we plant today continue to grow throughout eternity in ways that we can hardly imagine.

And then there is the Episcopal Church. Oh boy. I wonder what our young people who are out at General Convention would say to those on all sides of the issues tearing apart the Episcopal Church. What would they say to those who suggest that we cannot pray together? What would they say to those on all sides who say to beloved sisters and brothers in Christ, “We have no need for you.” What would we say? I would say, come to House of Prayer. Set aside your differences and come to church with us. Come as you are – imperfect and broken. Come to our imperfect and broken church and join hands in our circle of prayer. Come kneel with us, and reach out our hands and take this holy bread and wine. (Or grape juice, if you prefer!) I think they might say – and I know I would say – if you think we can’t be a church together, before you walk away come to House of Prayer.

Well, it just so happens that one of our young people at convention actually spoke at one of the hearings. Charles, a “mustard seed” who has grown up in this church, and was nurtured not only by his mom but by so many others here, spoke out in favor of a resolution called “Justice, Respect and a Living Wage.” This resolution challenges the church to support workers’ rights, especially the right to form a union and earn a living wage. Let me quote Charles’ statement from the convention – a real “mustard seed moment”:
“We talk about the great work we do as a church – justice for this and justice for that. Who do you think put those pitchers of fresh water on your table? Who put those clean table cloths on your table? Who do you think cleans these carpets after we leave? And these people – many of them immigrants – do not even make minimum wage, much less a ‘living wage.’ C’mon, people. This is your chance to improve the lives of people right here.”

Sure, we’re just a little church in Newark. But, we sure can plant mustard seeds! And we can have faith that God will take what we have planted – what we have planted in sometimes very rocky soil – and in ways we can’t imagine, transform each little seed into a rich harvest. We can have faith that God will transform each little seed into a beautiful plant, a plant providing food and shelter for many.

This is our Christian faith. Of course we can clearly see the many challenges facing our cities, our world and our church. And although we may sometimes get afraid or discouraged, Jesus reminds us that our job is to open our hearts and build the Kingdom of God, right here, right now, one mustard seed at a time.

Amen.

Pentecost is Our Day

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen
Year B: The Day of Pentecost
June 4, 2006

Acts 2:1-11
1 Corinthians 12:4-13
John 20: 19-23
Psalm 104:25-32

Pentecost is Our Day

Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on me.
Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on us.

Amen.

Well, Happy Pentecost! Pentecost is a great day because this is our day – today the Holy Spirit is poured out onto us. Today the Holy Spirit is breathed into us – into us right here at St. Paul’s in Jersey City. The past few weeks we have been through Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Ascension Day – and they were great and powerful days for sure, but Pentecost is a church feast that is really about us, right here and right now.

I mean, let’s face it, we weren’t there when Jesus was welcomed with waving palms into Jerusalem. We weren’t there when Jesus blessed the bread and wine at the Last Supper. We weren’t there when Jesus was nailed to the cross. We weren’t there when the apostles peered into the empty tomb. We weren’t there when the resurrected Jesus told Thomas to touch his wounds. We weren’t there when the apostles were left staring into the sky as Jesus ascended into heaven. No, we weren’t there for any of that – but we are right here in Jersey City during June of 2006 and right at this moment we’re having our own Pentecost, a Pentecost just as real and powerful as what the disciples experienced two thousand years ago. Today the Holy Spirit is being poured into us, breathed into us. It’s up to us to open our hearts to the Spirit. It’s up to us to let the Holy Spirit transform us into true disciples. It’s up to us today to walk out the doors of St. Paul’s and transform Jersey City and to transform the whole world. Today is Pentecost – today is our day!

It’s the end of the Easter season but it’s also the birthday of the church. Pentecost is the beginning of the church, the start of our Christian transformation. We just heard the lessons - as promised, the disciples were given the Holy Spirit and the church is born. Remember, even after the resurrection the disciples had been fearful, clueless people hiding out behind locked doors. Now the power of the Holy Spirit transforms them into true Christian disciples, boldly proclaiming the Good News of Christ in every language. Pentecost transforms the disciples into men and women willing to risk everything for Christ.

But, unlike Easter, Pentecost is not a one-time event – the outpouring of the Holy Spirit that began on that long-ago Pentecost continues today – right here and right now – right here on Duncan Avenue at St. Paul’s in Jersey City! Pentecost is not really about the transformation of a few Jewish men and women from 2000 years ago. Pentecost is really about the transformation that takes place in our own lives – when we open our hearts to power of the Holy Spirit and are transformed from being fearful, self-centered people into bold, loving Christian disciples. Pentecost is about our transformation and the transformation of the world.

Yes, Pentecost is about us and our continuing transformation into Christian disciples. Pentecost is about our individual transformation - and it’s also about our group transformation. You may have noticed that today’s lessons actually contain two Pentecosts. In the Acts of the Apostles we have sort of the “Big Pentecost” - the powerful depiction of the divided tongues as of fire descending on the disciples and then the disciples speaking in many languages. In John’s Gospel we have the “Little Pentecost” - Jesus simply breathes the Holy Spirit onto the disciples. Two very powerful images expressing the same reality – the gift of the Holy Spirit given to Christ’s followers.

In both accounts, though, the Holy Spirit is given – poured out or breathed – in public – in the community, not individually. Jesus doesn’t call the disciples one by one and breathe the Holy Spirit on them. (Jesus doesn’t quietly say something like, “Andrew, come over here for a second – I want to give you something.”) Instead the Holy Spirit is given collectively, in the community. Just like today, Jesus doesn’t call us to be disciples but then say, “Shh, don’t tell anyone about this – keep this to yourself.”

This is really important, and maybe something we’d like to forget. Despite what many people may say – and even what we might like to believe – our Christian faith is not a private matter. We cannot be transformed and then keep it to ourselves. We can’t be a “secret disciple.” You know what some people say about us Episcopalians? That we’re the “frozen chosen.” That’s not good enough! It just doesn’t work that way. Our transformation takes place here in church and in the world around us. As Christians, each in our own way, we are called to be transformed and then to go out and share the Good News, transforming the whole world.

Whether we like it or not, the power of the Holy Spirit and our transformation by the Holy Spirit is a public event. One of the things I love about the Episcopal Church is that, as you know, we usually celebrate the sacrament of Baptism in the middle of our Sunday Eucharist. All of us assembled take part in the baptism – we are all here to witness to the pouring out of the Holy Spirit, to remember and renew our own baptismal vows, and to pledge our support for a new Christian – we pledge our support both individually and as a community. Every Baptism is a Pentecost.

I’d like to share two examples of this uncomfortable, public, Pentecost Christianity that you and I have been baptized into. Last week out at House of Prayer we had a good discussion about Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa. I’m sure many of you know his story. When he was a teenager the white minority government in his country imposed the brutal system of apartheid on the black majority. Tutu was first a school teacher but in part because he was frustrated by the restrictions on what he could teach, he was ordained a priest. By the early 1980s he was one of the most outspoken opponents of this ugly, racist regime. In 1982 he declared to a government commission, “Where there is injustice, exploitation and oppression, then the Bible and the God of the Bible are subversive…Our God…is a God of surprises, uprooting the powerful and unjust to establish his kingdom.” In 1984 the world recognized Tutu’s willingness to speak truth to power and he received the Nobel Peace Prize.

Thanks to the courage of Tutu, Nelson Mandela, and others, in 1994 the white minority regime in South Africa was peacefully replaced with a multiracial government. It’s truly one of the great miracles of our time. But the miracle didn’t stop there. Next, President Mandela put Tutu in charge of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Both Mandela and Tutu understood the difficult truth that those white people who had done wrong were also victims of this evil system. So they were given the chance to make a full confession of their wrongdoing and in return received amnesty. The victims and their families were also given the chance to tell their stories to the commission. And so the healing began. How hard it must have been for people of color to offer forgiveness to these often brutal white people! How was forgiveness and reconciliation possible? Well, Tutu and the others opened their hearts to the power of the Holy Spirit and allowed themselves and their world to be transformed. It’s truly a Pentecost story.

Now another Pentecost story, this one a little closer to home. This past week I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting Bob Castle. You may have read in the paper that he was honored by the local historic preservation group as a living Jersey City landmark. Some of you who have been around for a while may remember that he was the rector of St. John’s on Summit Avenue back in the 1960s. When Castle got the job at St. John’s the bishop warned him that this would not be a good career move. That turned out to be a correct prediction, because Castle was not content to hide his Christianity within the church walls. Instead, Castle got involved in the big issues of his day – the civil rights and anti-war movements. You don’t have to agree with his politics to admit that Castle courageously carried his faith through the church doors and out into the world – forcefully speaking out and fighting against poverty, corruption, racism, violence and war.

On one memorable occasion, he brought garbage that had filled city-owned buildings and dramatically dumped it on the steps of City Hall. (That got their attention!) This white guy from the jWest Side famously befriended members of the Black Panthers – while opposing violence, he stood with them against racism and oppression. When Jersey City seemed to be in danger of descending into the chaos of race riots that devastated cities such as Detroit and Newark, Castle – a white man trusted by many in the black community - went out into the streets and helped to defuse the situation. And, unlike many other big cities, Jersey City didn’t burn and collapse.

The other night somebody asked Castle how he decided what causes were worth fighting for. He answered that he believed that something was worth doing only if it had a cost to him personally. “It’s got to cost you,” he said. And sure enough his work in Jersey City ended up costing him a great deal. For quite a while this outspoken priest was basically unemployable in the Episcopal Church – the bishop had been right after all, St. John’s really wasn’t a good career move. Castle actually ended up running a general store with his family in Vermont for years. But, the Holy Spirit is always at work and eventually he returned to the church, landing at St. Mary’s in Harlem, once again taking the Christian message out from the sanctuary and into the streets – and speaking the truth to power.

Of course, we’re not called to be exactly a Desmond Tutu or a Bob Castle. In their own times and places they found their ways to live out their Christian vocation. But on Pentecost, and every day, each of us in our own way is called to open our hearts to the power of the Holy Spirit. We are called to allow ourselves to be transformed and to grow into our transformation. As St. Paul writes, we are each called to use our manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. Our job together here in church is to reflect on what gifts of the Spirit we have been given and then, even though it’s going to cost us, rise above our fears and each in our own way bring our gifts out those doors and into a very broken and hungry world.

So, today is Pentecost. Today is our day. Today the Holy Spirit is poured out onto us. Today the Holy Spirit is breathed into us. Right here, right now. It is up to us – us, the people of St. Paul’s. All of us. Today is our day. Today it’s up to us to respond, to open our hearts, allowing the Holy Spirit to transform us, to transform Jersey City, and to transform all of creation.

Sweet Holy Spirit. Sweet Heavenly Dove.
Stay right here with us, filling us with your love.
And for these blessings, we lift our hearts in praise.
Without a doubt we’ll know that we have been revived
When we shall leave this place.

Amen.

It's Still Easter and It's Still Lent

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: The Third Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2006

Acts 4: 5-12
1 John 1:1-2:2
Luke 24: 36b-48
Psalm 98: 1-5

It’s Still Easter and It’s Still Lent

It’s great to be back at House of Prayer for the Third Sunday of Easter. I don’t know about you, but actually it feels like to me that Easter was quite a while ago. We’ve moved on to the next thing. I’m finishing (OK, starting) term papers and getting ready for exams. The stores have long since discounted the chocolate bunnies and even the peeps. Easter, it seems, has been put away for another year. But in the Church, at least, it’s still Easter. It’s still Easter.

Today’s readings give us a very dramatic before and after picture. Or, actually I guess I should say they give us a dramatic after and before picture. In the first reading from Acts we find the apostles Peter and John imprisoned by the Temple authorities for healing the sick and publicly teaching that Jesus is the Messiah who has risen from the dead. Questioned by the most powerful men in Jerusalem, the lowly fisherman Peter boldly tells the priests that Jesus, the man who they handed over to Pilate to be executed – the stone that was rejected – has become the cornerstone. This Jesus who was killed as a common criminal, has become the way to salvation. To speak that way to the chief priests must have taken a lot of courage! Remember, both Peter and John knew very well that if the religious establishment could get rid of Jesus, they could just as easily get rid of these two nobodies.

But in today’s reading from Luke’s Gospel we have a very different picture of the apostles. Not much courage or boldness here – more like fear and confusion. It’s still Easter – it’s Easter night. Earlier in the day, remember, Luke tells us that Mary Magdalene and the other women found the empty tomb, and heard from the two men in “dazzling clothes” the most amazing news – Jesus is risen! Of course, when the women told the men what they had seen and heard, the guys were understandably skeptical, but, to his credit, Peter runs to the tomb - where he finds only linen cloths. His Lord was gone. Could it be true? Could it really be true? Could Jesus really be risen from the dead? It’s still Easter.

Then Luke tells a wonderful story of Jesus appearing to two disciples on the road to Emmaus. They don’t recognize it’s Jesus at first, not until he breaks the bread and vanishes from their sight. It’s my favorite passage in the Bible and I’m tempted to preach on it right now, but this morning all we need to know is that these two disciples don’t actually make it to Emmaus. No, they turn back to Jerusalem and tell the other followers of what they have seen and heard. Jesus is risen! We saw him in the breaking of the bread! It’s still Easter.

This is where today’s reading from Luke picks up. Try to imagine yourself as one of Jesus’ followers right now – especially one of Jesus’ male disciples. These guys had really let down Jesus. I’m sure Jesus was disappointed, but he probably wasn’t surprised. He knew their weaknesses better than anyone. Remember what had happened in the garden the night he was arrested? The disciples couldn’t even stay awake for Jesus. And when the going got really tough, the disciples got going all right. According to Luke, they abandoned Jesus to die alone on the cross. As Luke rather politely puts it, “all his acquaintances, including the women who followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.”

Now, I’m going to guess that the amazing news that Jesus had risen, the reports that people had actually seen Jesus and talked with Jesus, would, yes, make the disciples wonder and hope, but this news would also make the disciples very uncomfortable and even afraid. I mean, the feelings of guilt must have been intense. Think for a moment of a time that you really let someone down. Still feels terrible, doesn’t it?

So now imagine you abandoned Jesus in his great moment of need. You left him to hang on the cross to die alone, to die the most shameful death, to die nailed to a tree as a common criminal. And now it seems somehow that Jesus has risen from the dead. I’m not sure that I could face Jesus, or would want to face Jesus, after all that has happened. What if Jesus is angry? Who could blame him? What if Jesus now rejects us because we failed him, abandoned him, rejected him, in his greatest moment of need? I am sure the disciples were very sorry. I am sure the disciples repented for what they had done, or for what they had not done. I am sure the disciples hoped, somehow, for forgiveness. It’s still Easter.

And then late that night Jesus appears. “Peace be with you,” he says. It seems to me that those simple, beautiful words are meant to immediately let the disciples know that, yes, they are forgiven. Although he has every reason in the world to at least be angry, Jesus instead offers peace. But, notice that Jesus does not pretend that nothing has happened. How uncomfortable it must have been for the disciples to see those wounds. To see the nail marks in his hands and feet. To truly face what had happened. To be reminded of the real pain and suffering of Good Friday. But, although they can’t, and shouldn’t, forget what has happened, the disciples who were filled with sorrow and repentance are forgiven by Jesus.

It’s still Easter. In fact, repentance and forgiveness is a powerful, central part of the Easter story. And it’s a powerful part, or should be a powerful part, of the church’s message today. Notice in today’s gospel how Jesus describes the mission of the church – uh, that would be our mission, yours and mine – “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed to all the nations…” Repentance and forgiveness of sins. I wonder how much attention the church actually gives these days to repentance and forgiveness. And yet Jesus says proclaiming repentance and forgiveness is the mission of the church!

The disciples must have been amazed and very relieved to hear Jesus call for repentance and offer forgiveness. So it turns out that yes, it’s still Easter, but in a sense, it’s still Lent too.

You know, I love the church seasons as much as the next person. I like when we shift our focus in Advent and Lent, Christmas, Easter and Pentecost. I like when we change colors, prayers and music. I like that we get to see all the beautiful vestments and altar hangings that we’re blessed to have here at House of Prayer. But, there’s a danger if we take the seasons too literally. We can end up dividing our faith into boxes – sort of like the boxes where we might keep our Christmas or Easter decorations. You know, well it’s Lent so let’s open up the “Lent Box” and take out the awareness of our sinfulness and need to repent, and God’s ever-willingness to forgive us. Repentance, that’s a nice decoration for Lent. And when Lent’s over we put repentance back into the “Lent Box” and it’s out of sight until next year. Because, now it’s Easter, so let’s crack open that box, move the bunnies and baskets out of the way, take out the alleluias, the joy, the sense of Jesus with us even now.

Well, if that’s what we do then maybe we would be better off getting rid of the seasons, or maybe just celebrating all the seasons all the time. Sure, the different colors in church might clash and not look so nice, (and I guess the altar guild won’t be happy) but mixing the seasons together would be a reminder that yes it’s still Easter, but in a sense it’s also still Lent. Yes, hopefully we experience the joy of the resurrection, but at the same time hopefully we also can still feel our sinfulness and need for forgiveness. All year long – not just during certain seasons.

This is important because at the center of Christianity is transformation, a change of heart. That’s what the disciples experience as they move from fear and failure to courage and confidence. Peter’s heart is transformed by Jesus’ forgiveness. He goes from being the man who cowardly denies Jesus three times to being the man we read about in the Acts of the Apostles today – boldly telling the priests and the scribes that Jesus the messiah has risen from the dead. What a powerful transformation – what an amazing change of heart! And the transformation doesn’t just happen once. Through prayer and by trying to live the Christian life, year after year season after season, it grows and deepens. That’s the power of Christianity! And that power, the power of the Holy Spirit, is available to all of us right here, right now in the House of Prayer!

How does this transformation start? I think there’s only one way, and that is through repentance. Admitting the times we have failed, the times that we have abandoned God and abandoned our brothers and sisters. Turning to God and asking for forgiveness. In today’s epistle reading from First John we heard such a hopeful message, “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” And, “If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” Even if it scares us, and if we’re being real it should scare us, we can repent and offer our confession to God. And we can do this with confidence because we know that God is ready always to forgive – in fact, it is God who is calling us to repentance and forgiveness. And Jesus is saying to us right here and now as he said to the disciples long ago, “Peace be with you.”

Just as that repentance and forgiveness transformed the apostles from a bunch of cowards hiding in a locked room to bold people risking and sacrificing their lives to proclaim Jesus as messiah, so we too will be transformed. Our hearts will be changed. That’s the power of God working through us – transforming fear and death into hope and new life. It’s still Easter and it’s still Lent. Thanks be to God!

Someone who understood the need in our lives for both Lent and Easter was our new friend Lancelot Andrewes, the 17th Century English bishop we reflected on this morning in the spirituality group. I will close with one of his beautiful prayers, which I hope can be our prayer today:

Let us pray.
Blot out, O Lord, as a thick cloud of night our transgressions
and as a morning cloud our sins,
make us children of the day and of the light,
grant us to walk chastely and soberly as in the day.
Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin.
Keep us from the arrow that flieth by day,
and from the sickness that destroyeth in the noonday;
deliver us from the hand of the hunter and from the noisome pestilence;
from the evil of this day keep us.
Today salvation and peace be to this house.
O let me hear thy loving kindness, for in Thee is my trust;
show Thou me the way that I should walk in,
for I raise my soul to Thee.

Amen.

Faithful Thomas 1.0

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen
April 23, 2006

St. Paul's Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
April 13, 2006

Year B: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 3:12a, 13-15, 17-26, 13-15, 17-26
1 John 5:1-6
John 20:19-31
Psalm 118:19-24

“Faithful Thomas”

I’m not just saying this because I’m a Thomas too, but I think the Apostle Thomas has gotten a bad rap thanks to our reading today from the Gospel of John. Obviously, John criticizes Thomas as someone who actually needs to see Jesus in order to believe in Jesus. Now, before all the Peters and Andrews of the world start congratulating themselves, let’s remember that the other apostles didn’t believe Mary Magdalene’s story of the resurrected Jesus, either. They needed to see Jesus too. But we don’t use the expression “Doubting Peter” or “Doubting Andrew,” do we? No, it’s only Thomas who seems forever to be stuck as the doubter.

And let’s face it, Thomas does say “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” And so Jesus gives Thomas what he seems to need – Jesus shows him his wounded, resurrected body; invites Thomas to touch, to believe. And then Thomas says maybe more than he actually understands, crying out to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” It’s Thomas more than the others who really recognizes who Jesus really is – “My Lord and my God!”

Yes, Thomas is a doubter. But, I would like to suggest to you that Thomas is also for us a model of faith. One of my professors at the seminary has said something a few times over the past semester that has gotten stuck in my head. This professor has suggested that we are wrong to say that doubt is the opposite of faith. No, he says, the opposite of faith is certainty.

I’ve thought about that a lot these past few months. And I think he’s right. I could be wrong, but certainty seems so easy – it seems almost dishonest. It’s like enjoying the happy, sunny Easter Sunday morning without living through the drizzly gray Good Friday. I mean, honestly, how can we go through our lives, seeing and experiencing all the mindless and purposeless suffering that we do, and not sometimes wonder – where is God? Why does God allow these terrible things to happen? Maybe this sounds strange to say in church, but it is very healthy and normal to doubt, to question, to be skeptical.

Now, if we think of faith as having convinced ourselves of something, if we think of faith as something you either have or you don’t, if we think of faith as something that you can get but can also lose, then doubt can be a truly frightening experience. As a young man, Martin Luther was very concerned about how he could know he had enough faith. He wondered, what if I need just a little more faith? Or, what if I was supposed to say just one more prayer? What if I don’t have enough faith? What if I haven’t done enough? He called the predicament the “terrified conscience.”

After agonizing about this for a while, Luther finally came to realize that it’s not about us, but instead it’s about God and God’s grace. Luther came to understand that faith is not a thing that we can possess, but instead faith is opening our hearts to let God’s grace work within and through us. In a real sense, faith is a way of living, it’s not a thing that we either have or we don’t have. Faith is a verb, not a noun.

If we recognize what faith really is, then it’s pretty easy to see Thomas as a man of faith much more than a man of doubt. Faithful Thomas, not Doubting Thomas. Truthfully, we don’t know too much about Thomas, but he seems to be a man of action, a courageous man, a true disciple of Jesus. Back in Chapter 11, Thomas says to the other disciples, “let us go, that we may die with him.” Despite that boldness, the events leading up to Good Friday must have been shocking and frightening to Thomas as they were for others. Like nearly all of Jesus’ followers, of course, Thomas stayed away from Golgotha. He didn’t hear Jesus cry out from the cross in agony or ask God to forgive his persecutors. He didn’t see Jesus breathe his last.

What happens next is crucial. If faith is just a thing then it’s very easy to imagine Thomas giving up in the face of this horrible execution. I was fooled. I thought this Jesus was the messiah, but I was wrong. Look at what’s happened to him – the most shameful death of all. I should have listened when people mocked me and said I was crazy to follow this carpenter.

But, faith is not a thing, it’s an openness to the power of God. Faith is not having everything figured out, it’s a trust that God is at work in the world, restoring the world to the way things were meant to be. So what does Thomas do after Jesus’ death? Well, we don’t know, but we do know that he is not fearfully hiding with the other disciples. Maybe he went off by himself to pray and to try to make sense of these horrible events, this huge disappointment. Maybe he cried out to God – Why did you let this happen? Jesus preached the Kingdom of God was near – why did you let his enemies arrest him and kill him? Was it all fake? Was I fool for following Jesus? What do I do now?

Maybe that sounds like doubt. But, really, it is faithfully reaching out to God. It’s honestly admitting to God that this does not all make sense – but I’m not going to give up, I’m not going to close myself off, no matter how much I’m afraid, or confused, or skeptical.

So what does Thomas do when the other disciples tell him about the resurrected Jesus? Is he doubtful? You bet. But the story doesn’t end there. He doesn’t say some first century equivalent of “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” He goes back with the disciples to the house – despite his doubt, he is still open to the possibility that God is at work, that things are not quite as they seem, and that death is not really the end of the story.

It’s that openness that gives Thomas the insight and the wisdom to say to Jesus more than he probably understood, “My Lord and my God!”

Faith - that openness to God, that trust in God, is easy to talk about but not so easy to live out in our daily lives – it’s not even easy when you’re like me and surrounded by church nearly all the time. It’s a constant struggle to be open and mindful – to really pay attention for God at work in the world around us. But, here’s the good news - we don’t have to do the work. If we’re open even a little, if we leave even just a little room for God, then God will do the rest.

My Good Friday experience this year is a good example. This year I was in charge of the Good Friday service at the seminary chapel. Since this is an important service, and everyone there is sort of an expert who knew how it was supposed to work, there was a lot of pressure on me and others involved, to do our jobs right. Everything turned out fine, although honestly I didn’t get to really experience the service because I was paying attention to all the little details. After that was done, I literally had to run in the rain carrying my vestments in a garment bag, ten blocks north to Penn Station to catch a train to get to House of Prayer in time for the beginning of the Good Friday walk at noon. Again, not a very open and mindful experience.

I just made it, and when I walked into church someone said, “Oh good, our crucifer is here.” Now, no one had told me that I was to carry this big wooden cross from House of Prayer to the next church a few blocks away on Broad Street. So I sat there, feeling irritated and taken for granted, angry that no one had bothered to even ask me about this ahead of time. Stewing in my negativity I wondered, what’s the point of this? What am I doing here? This is silly, just a waste of time. I have to admit, I was also trying to figure out how I was going to carry the cross and I was also hoping that I wouldn’t embarrass myself if the cross turned out to be very heavy. Needless to say, again, not very open or mindful.

Once the service was over, I stepped up to the altar, picked up the cross, put it over my shoulder and slowly walked down the aisle. Somehow, there was just enough space for God to cut through my bad mood and my self-centeredness. I began to forget my irritation and began to realize, to feel - It’s true, our story is really real – God came into the world and the world rejected God, but God transformed that defeat into victory.

As I walked down the aisle, I touched the roughness of the wood; I felt its weight on my shoulder. As I led the procession out of the church, wearing my black cassock, carrying this large cross through the streets of downtown Newark I could see the mix of curiosity, surprise and even sadness on people’s faces as they looked at me, and looked at the cross. I could hear the hush that seemed to fall even though cars and buses continued to drive by. After all these years the story has lost none of its power. And when we arrived at the next church, I felt an odd bond to the person I handed the cross over to – that in some way we were sharing a very special experience of discipleship. For a moment anyway, the doubts and fears fell away – the wounded Christ was really present - “My Lord and my God!”

I am sure in the years after seeing the still-wounded, yet gloriously resurrected Christ, Thomas still sometimes wondered and doubted. It was all so amazing. Had it all been a dream? What did it mean? In a way, it seemed like everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed. Death was defeated, yet there was still plenty of evil and suffering and death all around. According to a wonderful tradition, Thomas brought the Good News all the way to India. Wherever he ended up we can be sure that, despite his doubts, despite his uncertainty, he remained faithful - he remained open to God’s work all around, and within, him. And as he faced a martyr’s death, even if he had doubts, even if he was not totally certain, “Faithful Thomas” must have cried out to Jesus once again, “My Lord and my God!”

Angry Jesus

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: 3 Lent
March 19, 2006

Exodus 20: 1-17
Romans 7: 13-25
John 2: 13-22
Psalm 19: 7-14

I was going to begin this sermon by marching down the aisle to the back of the church and angrily overturning that little table back there where there are calendars and House of Prayer t-shirts and mugs for sale. But then I thought better of it – after all I am only a seminarian here and those mugs are so nice I’d hate to break them!

But, what a scene John describes in today’s gospel! The cleansing of the Temple is one of the stories that actually appears in all four gospels – obviously it made quite an impression on Jesus’ earliest followers. And that’s no surprise – imagine being a follower of this radical rabbi, a rabbi who is not at all part of the religious establishment. And then this outsider rabbi brings us followers of his to the absolute center of Jewish faith and life –the Temple in Jerusalem, the most awesome place in the world, the place where the ark of the covenant was kept in the Holy of Holies. And then this outsider rabbi makes a huge scene, angrily overturning tables, panicked animals baaing and mooing and coins clattering on the stone floor.

In an amazing, shocking detail, John has Jesus wielding a whip and yelling at the people selling doves in the Temple, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” Well, this is definitely not the groovy, laid-back, peaceful Jesus of my 1970s childhood. This is a very different side of Jesus, rarely seen in the Gospels, and not usually talked about much in church. Jesus is angry. Jesus is really angry.

So, why is Jesus so angry? The thing is, the people in the Temple changing money and selling animals really weren’t doing anything wrong. These activities were allowed by the Temple authorities – in fact, they were truly necessary for worship and sacrifice to take place in the Temple. The many Jews who were coming to Jerusalem from throughout the Roman Empire could not use coins depicting the Emperor, just as, if the Temple stood today, American Jews could not use their coins with images of Lincoln, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Washington. That would be idolatry and of course as we were reminded by our reading from Exodus, idolatry is forbidden.

The main function of the Temple was the sacrifice of animals. Probably the first thing visitors to ancient Jerusalem would have seen, and smelled, was the all-day grilling of animals taking place at the Temple, in the center of the city. Jews coming to the Temple, then, had to buy their unblemished animals at the Temple and offer them to the priests and to God as a sacrifice. They weren’t doing anything wrong – just like it’s not wrong for us to sell some t-shirts and mugs to support and celebrate this church.

So, why is Jesus so angry? Well, of course, I’m not the psychology professional up here, but it seems to me that we usually think of anger as a negative emotion. We try to bottle it up, or cover it up (like I sometimes do) with humor. Anger, both in ourselves and in others, is very scary. But, like all our other emotions, anger is very natural and very human and it’s pretty healthy to express anger – it’s a sign to everyone that this is really important, this really matters. It may be a little frightening and upsetting to other people, but it gets their attention. I remember as a teacher I would rarely raise my voice in the classroom, but when I did it usually made my students quickly settle down. (OK, it didn’t always work.) Now, if a person is angry all the time, that’s something different, and then, of course, they need some help to deal with whatever is going on. But, we know that Jesus is not angry all the time. In fact, John highlights this by setting the temple story just after the wedding at Cana where Jesus celebrates a marriage and joyfully, and playfully, transforms water into wine.

So why is Jesus so angry? Jesus’ anger certainly lets us know this is important, this really matters. Jesus wants to get our attention, and he’s got it.

Jesus is so angry because the power of sin is so strong. Jesus’ anger teaches us, reminds us that sin is so powerful; truly sin soils everyone, sin spoils everything, even worship in the holiest place on earth. The Temple had become more about exchanging money and grilling animals than worshiping the one true God. The power of sin!

Now, you know one of the complaints that some people have about the Episcopal Church is that we don’t talk enough about sin. I don’t know if that’s true – after all, each Sunday we publicly confess in front of all our brothers and sisters and before God that we have sinned “in thought, word and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.” We express remorse for failing to love God and to love our neighbor. And we beg forgiveness. I doubt that anyone here ever chosen not to participate in the confession. I doubt any of us has ever said, “You know what, I had a great week – no sins against God or my neighbor! I’m going to skip this part and go get a cup of coffee!”

So, Jesus is so angry because sin is so powerful and in a real sense contaminates all of us and everything. Sin soils everything, even worship in the Temple, even worship in the church.

Why is sin so powerful – why is there so much sin in all of us? Good question! But, since I’m only a seminarian I’m not even going to try to explain that – even Jesus himself doesn’t explain it – throughout the Gospels he just points to sin’s reality and sin’s power. Traditionally the Church has taught about Original Sin, the sin inherited from Adam and Eve and infecting all of us. Whatever you might think about that, it’s an accurate description of our situation, don’t you think?

On some very deep level, we know that something has gone very, very wrong in the world, and in us. This is not the way the world was supposed to be. This is not the way we were meant to be. This is not God’s dream and hope for the world, and for us.

Throughout history God has tried over and over to nudge us in the right direction – to reveal God’s self, to reveal God’s dream for the world, God’s dream for us. And, yes, sometimes in anger, God has pointed out our sinfulness to us, and challenged us to live in a way that gives life, not death. In the reading from Exodus this morning we heard one of the most central, most dramatic, most lasting examples of God’s revelation to us – the giving of the Ten Commandments. Because the commandments are so familiar, and today so politicized, we miss how radical they really are. The commandments are an attempt by God to reshape the world into a place where all people are honored and respected, life is cherished, and the creating, redeeming God is praised. God offers a vision of a society in which everyone – women and men, children, slaves, foreigners and even animals have the opportunity to rest from the labors, just as on the seventh day God rested and marveled at creation.

Well, what do you think, did the Ten Commandments and the rest of the Law defeat sin? No, not exactly. St. Paul spells out the unfortunate answer very clearly for us in today’s reading from the Letter to the Romans. Paul speaks for all of us when he declares “I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” Paul says sin is so powerful, so ingrained in us, that it prevents us from really doing good, even when we really want to do good. Sin spoils everything, everything, even worship in the Temple, the holiest place on earth. The Law serves as an accusation, an indictment – it identifies sin and so we can’t plead ignorance like children, “But, I didn’t know it was wrong.”

So the Law did not defeat sin. Well, one thing many of us have learned is that our God is a persistent God. This is probably not orthodox, but I often think how frustrating we all must be for God. I’m sure it is God’s perfect love that has saved us from God throwing in the towel, and giving up on us. And it is only God’s perfect love and perfect grace that has saved us from destroying ourselves.

No, God doesn’t give up, and instead in the fullness of time God sent this outsider rabbi from Galilee, this Jesus who reveals who God really is, and reveals who we really are. In Jesus, fully human and fully divine, God says, this is who I really am. And in Jesus, fully human and fully divine, God says to us, this is who you really are. In Jesus we see what humanity looks like without the destructive infection of sin. In the end, that’s the message of the Gospel, isn’t it? God says here, this is who I am – be like Jesus, be like me, and share with me in the banquet of eternal life.

As Paul puts it, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

But, even though it’s only the third Sunday of Lent, we know what’s coming, don’t we? Certainly in this House of Prayer, we are reminded of the crucifixion every Sunday as we gaze up at the crucified messiah. Again, I can only wonder at the pain, frustration, disappointment, and yes anger, experienced by God – the ultimate rejection. God comes into the world and because the power of sin is so great, human beings once again reject the message and the messenger, and nail him to a cross.

I suspect that even with all the disappointments of the past, all those golden calves, all that sin, this time God hoped for a better outcome. But, even then, God doesn’t give up on us – transforming pain, humiliation and death into joy, glory, and life on the third day.

You know, the more I study the more I realize that Christianity is kind of a tricky religion. There is what some people call an “already – not yet” quality to our faith. We know that Jesus’ resurrection has changed everything forever – that we have been shown the way to full life with God. In Jesus we have become “at one” with God. And yet, our faith also recognizes that we’re not there yet, and sin remains so powerful in our lives – soiling us and spoiling everything.

Probably the biggest danger for us is to think that sin doesn’t really affect us so much – I mean, we’re not much for sinning, after all we’re good church-going folk, aren’t we? Now, those people who are still home in bed this morning, or having a big stack of delicious pancakes at IHOP, oh boy, now there are your sinners! Or, the people we read about in the newspapers or see on TV doing horrible, unspeakable things – those are the real sinners, not us!

No, Jesus’ anger in the Temple reminds us that if sin infects the holiest place on earth, then sin infects you and me and everything, including, of course, the church. Jesus’ anger has gotten our attention – he’s telling us this is important - we must not place our faith in the Temple, or the church, or any other human institution. Because of sin, we will be disappointed over and over. We must not turn these human institutions into gods, into idols. Instead, with St. Paul let us say, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

And so especially this Lent when we make our confession here in church and in our own prayers, let us ask for the strength to put our faith in the one true God, revealed to us in Jesus – Jesus who shows us who God really is – Jesus who shows us who we are really meant to be. Jesus who stretches out his arms on the hard wood of the cross – and draws the whole world to himself.

Amen.

Listening for the Call

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: 2 Epiphany
January 15, 2006

1 Samuel 3: 1-10(11-20)
1 Corinthians 6: 11b-20
John 1: 43-51
Psalm 63: 1-8

Listening for the Call

God is calling us, right here, right now. Today’s readings remind us in very powerful ways to listen very carefully for God’s call. The readings remind us that God is calling all of us, right here in the House of Prayer, right here in Newark, right now in January 2006. But, are we listening for God’s call? And if we aren’t, why not?

In the Old Testament reading we see God calling not the old priest Eli, as we might expect, but instead the young boy, Samuel. Samuel at first has trouble recognizing God’s voice, but with a little help from Eli, Samuel is able to hear God’s message. In the reading from John’s Gospel, Nathaniel at first is skeptical about this Jesus character – he sarcastically asks if anything good can come out of Nazareth – a little backwater town, an unimportant place, certainly not the hometown of the messiah! In both cases, at first Samuel and Nathaniel don’t really understand what’s going on – they don’t recognize God’s call. But, in both cases, with a little help from others, they were open to the possibility that God might be calling them. Nathaniel accepts Philip’s invitation to “Come and see.” Nathaniel’s openness allows him to recognize who Jesus of Nazareth really is – “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the king of Israel!” Samuel is also open. He follows Eli’s advice and when he hears God’s call the boy says, “Speak for your servant is listening.”

“Speak, for your servant is listening.” That’s the heart of today’s message. God is at work all around us. Right here, right now. God is speaking directly in our hearts and also through the people around us. But with Samuel do we say, “Speak for your servant is listening”?

Last week some of you may have seen the first episode of the new TV show “The Book of Daniel.” I have mixed feelings about the show – and I’m not sure I can or should recommend it – but it’s certainly “must see TV” for someone in the process of becoming an Episcopal priest. (Kathleen, deacons should probably watch it, too!) Anyway, the show is about a suburban priest (with the historic name Daniel Webster) who has more than his fair share of troubles – he’s addicted to vicodin, his wife is an alcoholic, his brother-in-law stole millions from the church, his daughter is selling drugs, his adopted son is involved with a girl in the congregation – who happens to be the daughter of a wealthy and powerful warden, he lost one son to leukemia and struggles to deal with his other son’s homosexuality, his mother has Alzheimer’s, his father is a retired conservative bishop who does not really approve of his son the liberal priest, and his bishop hangs around the church a lot criticizing Father Webster’s preaching. Other than that not much happened in the first episode!

Oh, and one other thing – Father Webster occasionally sees, and has conversations with, Jesus. Some people have criticized the show for using Jesus in this way, but there was one brief scene between them that worked really well. Webster and Jesus are in a car when the priest asks Jesus,
“Am I chosen?’
Jesus says, “No.”
The priest responds, “Well, why do you talk to me?”
“I talk to everyone,” Jesus says.
The priest says, “Few mention it.”
Jesus says, “Few hear me.”

“I talk to everyone. Few hear me.” Even though this is from just a kind of silly TV show, it rings true, doesn’t it? Maybe in your own life there have been special times when you have really sensed God’s presence or in some way heard God’s voice, heard God’s call. But, most of the time – at least for me and maybe for you too – we assume that God has fallen silent, or would have nothing to say to ordinary people like us. And many of us fill our lives with so much busyness and so much noise that we really aren’t open, we really aren’t available, to hearing God’s call.

Now, as you’d probably guess, because I’m in the process of becoming a priest, the bishop and others, including Pastor Judy, have challenged me to pray and think a lot about what God might be saying to me. Over the past couple of years I’ve had to try to open myself up to God’s call. To really listen. And I’ve been asked to share what I have discovered. Now, although sometimes I get a little tired of talking and writing about it – overall it has been an amazing gift to be challenged to pray and listen – to try to discern what God’s call to me might be.

But since this has been a wonderful journey for me, it makes me sad to think that most people never get this chance – are never given the opportunity to really take time and listen for God’s call. This time to pray and reflect is a gift everyone should have. Because God certainly doesn’t just call people like me, God calls all of us – maybe especially the most unlikely of us. Like Nathaniel in today’s gospel, we are all called to be disciples. Our job is to figure out with God’s help how we will live out our lives as disciples. In big and small ways God is always speaking, always nudging us in the right direction. But, like the TV Jesus says “I talk to everyone, but few hear me.”

Maybe one of the reasons we don’t listen is because we assume that God wouldn’t have much to say to ordinary people like us. These past few months I’ve gotten to know this place and I know it’s filled with good and kind people. We go about our lives, doing the best we can. But, we’re not famous – we’re plain folks. We’re ordinary people, right? What in the world would God have to say to us?

Yet the readings from Samuel and John tell us that it is precisely ordinary people like us that God calls out to. The big-shot priest Eli doesn’t hear God at all. Instead it is a boy, Samuel, who receives the message from God. Just a boy! Just a child! What does he know? Yet, he knows enough to open himself to God’s presence and to listen for God’s voice. In the gospel, Nathaniel seems to be just an ordinary person sitting under a fig tree. Although at first he dismisses Jesus, this ordinary person is able to open himself up to Philip’s invitation and to “come and see” the messiah.

And, of course, we have Jesus himself. God chooses to come into the world, to reveal God’s self, in someone born in Nazareth – a sleepy little backwater town. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Yet in this humble carpenter God reveals who God really is - and in Jesus God calls us to be who we really are. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Today, I suppose some would ask – Can anything good come out of Newark? Can anything good come out of Jersey City? If we pay attention to God’s call to us, we know the answer to those questions. God is calling us, right here in this House of Prayer – right here in Newark – right here in the shadow of Route 280. God is calling us right here, right now. Do we say “Speak, for your servant is listening?”

Maybe another reason why we don’t listen is we struggle with prayer, especially when we pray on our own. I love praying with all of you, especially in the Circle of Prayer. But on my own it can be a challenge. Lots of times, when I try to pray I get distracted thinking about all the things I need to get done. I get distracted by the TV or checking my email for the tenth time that day. And I get frustrated when prayer doesn’t feel productive – when I don’t hear God’s call. It feels like I’m wasting precious time.

That’s one of the reasons I’m so excited about the spirituality group we’ll be starting in a couple of weeks. I’m hoping on Sundays before church we can take some time to pray together – to try different types of prayer and to share with each other how we hear God’s call to us. I’m looking forward to setting aside this special time together to pray, reflect and share. I’m looking forward to hearing God speak through everyone in the group. You’ll be hearing more about this. Everyone’s welcome and I hope you’ll join us.

When we forget that God is calling us right here, right now, or when we get frustrated as we struggle to pray, fortunately the Church gives us the examples of lots of role models, saints, who overcame their own challenges through prayer. Tomorrow the entire nation pauses to remember one of those saints – Martin Luther King, Jr. Nearly forty years after his assassination, I suppose Dr. King is most remembered for his non-violent civil rights actions – especially the Montgomery bus boycott and the March on Washington. He’s remembered for his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” and the “I Have a Dream Speech.” But, unfortunately, I don’t think he is much remembered as the man of prayer that he really was. It’s forgotten or overlooked that the Gospel and prayer was the foundation of Dr. King’s life and actions. One of the best biographies of Dr. King devotes only half a page to his prayer life and never even mentions God. And this book is over a thousand pages long! But, like Samuel and Nathaniel, Martin Luther King faithfully opened himself up to God’s call – and it was his sense of God’s presence that supported him through his work – that made his work more than just a dream.

During the Montgomery boycott, Dr. King and his family received numerous death threats. After one frightening late night telephone threat, Dr. King got up and nervously heated up a pot of coffee. He put his head in his hands, bowed over the kitchen table and prayed aloud, “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers, I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.”

At that moment, Martin King felt the presence of God like he never had before. He remembered that it seemed like a voice said to him, “Stand up for righteousness, stand up for truth. God will be at your side forever.”

His fear left him and Dr. King carried on his work, assured to the end of God’s presence and support. God doesn’t promise that there won’t be suffering – but God does promise God’s presence through it all. Like Samuel and Nathaniel, Dr. King listened for God’s call. And in the unlikely place of Montgomery, Alabama, he heard God and felt God’s presence. As we start a new year and as we remember Dr. King – and Samuel and Nathaniel - let’s open our hearts and ears to God. Right here in Newark. Right here in this House of Prayer. Like Samuel, let’s say to God, “Speak for your servant is listening.”

The Real "War on Christmas"

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen
Year B: The Nativity of Our Lord
December 24, 2005, 11:00PM

Isaiah 9:2-4, 6-7
Psalm 96: 1-4, 11-12
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2: 1-20

The Real “War on Christmas"


After all these centuries, the story has lost none of its power. Mary and Joseph desperately searching for shelter. Placing the newborn baby Jesus in a manger – the Son of God in a feeding trough for animals. The angels appearing to the shepherds with their wondrous message of good news. The young mother Mary – probably just thirteen or fourteen years old – pondering in her heart all that she has seen and heard. It is a rich, deeply moving story and tonight all around the world people are once again retelling and rehearing it in countless languages and places. But, I think tonight, maybe more than ever, we need to ask a difficult question – Yes, it’s Christmas, but so what? What difference does Christmas make for us here in Jersey City at the end of 2005? Really, what difference does it make for any of us that Jesus was born? So what?

What difference does Jesus’ birth make, especially as we consider our world in 2005 – I don’t need to remind you that for the world this has been in many ways a terrible year – beginning just after Christmas last year when the horrific tsunami struck Asia killing thousands upon thousands of people. What difference does Christmas make in the face of suffering such as that, or for the victims of hurricanes and earthquakes? What difference does Christmas make for those who suffer because of evil human acts? Our own little parish has faced much sadness and suffering this year, with members of our St. Paul’s family no longer able to be with us this Christmas. Some have died, others are unwell. Some have anxiously faced surgery or waited for test results. In the midst of all this suffering and anxiety – here and around the world - what difference does Christmas make? It’s Christmas – so what?

Well, it certainly seems like a lot of people care a great deal about Christmas. During a time when American men and women are bravely sacrificing their lives fighting a dangerous and difficult war, the media, especially certain cable news networks and personalities, have been pouring out reports and commentary on the so-called “war on Christmas” that apparently is taking place across our country. In a recent five-day period, one cable news network broadcast fifty-eight stories about this attack on Christmas – a battle which seems to be taking place mostly in America’s stores where cashiers and sales clerks have been criticized for wishing people “Happy Holidays” rather than saying “Merry Christmas.” One well-known commentator angrily declared, “I am not going to let oppressive, totalitarian, anti-Christian forces in this country diminish and denigrate the holiday!” And, “I’m going to use all the power I have on radio and television to bring horror into the world of people who are trying to do that!” He went on, “There is no reason on earth that all of us cannot celebrate a public holiday devoted to generosity, peace and love together! And anyone who tries to stop us from doing it is gonna face me!” Um, merry Christmas?

We may or may not agree with this kind of talk, but I actually do believe there is a kind of war on Christmas going on today, but it’s a war that has nothing to do with what some in the media are yelling and screaming about. It’s a war that has nothing to do with saying “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas.” No, instead it’s a kind of war that goes on inside our own hearts. And if we can understand this internal war – a war that we’ll never see covered on TV – we may be able to answer this Christmas question: so what?

A 17th Century mathematician and philosopher named Blaise Pascal said that there is in every person a God-shaped void that only God can fill. That rings true to me – that in each of us there is a space, an emptiness that hungers for God – a God shaped void that only God can fill. But, even though only God can heal that emptiness we do a pretty good job of looking for other ways to fill that void – and there are lots of people out there who are more than willing to help us.

You name it, we try it. Some use alcohol or drugs to fill that emptiness. Others turn to food. Or sex. Or we try to make the people in our lives fill this emptiness. Those of us who have the means – and even some of us who don’t - turn to buying stuff – lots and lots of stuff. If I only have – fill in the blank – then I’ll truly be happy. And, of course, manufacturers, stores and advertisers are more than willing to try to convince us that these things will truly make us happy. That these things will fill the void we feel in our lives. But, it’s not true – and on some level we know it’s not true, and yet many of us fall for it each and every time, year in and year out. Now don’t get me wrong, most of this stuff is perfectly fine and enjoyable – believe me, my family will tell you I like Christmas presents at least as much as anybody else, but none of these things that we buy or unwrap will make us truly happy if we haven’t filled that God-shaped void in our hearts. And hoping that stuff is going to feed us spiritually ultimately can lead us to self-destruction.

And, that’s the real war on Christmas – because what is Christmas, really? What is the “good news of great joy” that the angels announce to the startled shepherds in the field? The good news is that God has come to fill that God-shaped void inside of us. God has heard our cries – O Come, O Come Emmanuel – and God has come into the world in Jesus. In Jesus, God and humanity – God and us - meet in a new, decisive, and transforming way. In Jesus God says “This is who I am.” And in Jesus God also says to us, “This is who you really are – this is what I dream you will be. This is what humanity will be.” That’s the “so what” of Christmas – our God-shaped void is filled by Jesus. We are saved.

Actually, not quite. It turns out the Christian message is really an invitation. In Jesus, God shows us the way to be what we were created to be. In Jesus, God shows us what life with God is like. But, it’s still only an invitation – we are free, so it’s up to us to respond. We need to open our hearts, put our faith in God, to live like Jesus – to allow God to fill that void that only God can fill.

And that’s the hard part. And that’s why even we Christians who should know better – and do know better - still try to fill that God-shaped void other ways like by misusing stuff rather than turning to God. In a way, it’s easier isn’t it to just go to down to the Newport Mall, or even all the way out to Short Hills, and search for joy and happiness? It’s easier, except of course, it doesn’t really work.

In Jesus, God reveals both who God is and who we really are. And so as we read the whole Gospel story we have a really clear sense of what God is calling us to, what God wants us to be. To be like Jesus, we are called to offer loving service to others. We are called to teach and to heal. We are called to condemn sin, especially hypocrisy. We are called to preach repentance and reconciliation. We are called to love – especially people we don’t particularly like and even those who are our enemies. To choose life, not death. To follow Jesus is not to sit around waiting for heaven, but to transform life here on earth – and if Christmas teaches us anything it is that God values life on earth, our here and now human life very, very much.

All this is all very hard for us to do, but we know that the Lord is with us – holding us up, praying with us, leading us on. And maybe most importantly, the Lord is suffering along with us. After all, to be Christian is certainly to believe in a suffering God.

One of the things I love about the Bible is its honesty - it never pretends that any of this is easy. It was not easy for Mary to accept the amazing news the angel told her – “How can this be?” she asked. It was not easy for Joseph to accept what God called him to be and to do – to stand by Mary and to be father to this child. It was not easy for Jesus to preach repentance and love, to resist temptation, and to be abandoned and rejected. And it is not easy for God – forever reaching out, desiring relationship with humanity, and over and over being abandoned and rejected. And, of course, the ultimate rejection took place on the cross. Yet, God forever seeks us and so is able to transform what seems to be a crushing defeat into a spectacular victory. The resurrected Jesus reveals our own future – if we accept the Christmas invitation and allow God fill that God-shaped void in our hearts.

So, tonight let’s call a truce in the real war on Christmas. In faith, let us open our hearts to God. Like Mary, let us ponder in our hearts all that God has done in our lives. Like Joseph, let us have the courage to put our faith in God, even if, especially if, we are frightened or confused. Like the shepherds, let us look with awe and wonder at the miracle of Jesus – the Word of God – made flesh in the world. Like the angels let us boldly proclaim “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward all.”

And on this holy night and always let us be like Jesus – Jesus who makes all the difference for us and for the world. Jesus who teaches and heals. Jesus who loves and sacrifices. Jesus who is present right now in our community here in Jersey City, right here at St. Paul’s and here in a special way in the meal of bread and wine we will share. Jesus who reveals both who God is and who we truly are meant to be. Now, that’s something to celebrate! Merry Christmas!

Perfectimundo

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen
December 4, 2005
The Second Sunday of Advent: Year B
Isaiah 40: 1-11
2 Peter: 3: 8-15a, 18
Mark 1: 1-8
Psalm 85

Perfectimundo

Advent is usually my favorite church season. I love the sense of anticipation, the building excitement about Christmas. We wait and we watch. Week by week we light the Advent candles. Some of us open the little doors on our Advent calendars. Churches like ours are beautifully decorated in blue, others maybe in a bluish purple. Of course, it’s the start of the church year, the alpha – the beginning – once again it’s a fresh start, a chance to try again, a time to begin the story anew – we find John the Baptist back in the wilderness, crying out “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” John’s back down at the Jordan, baptizing with water and prophesying the one who will baptize with the Spirit. Once again the angel appears to the young Mary with a fantastic, almost unbelievable, announcement. She says yes and God mysteriously and miraculously becomes one of us. It’s Advent - usually my favorite season.

But there’s the other side of Advent, the purple side, the penitential side, the omega side, the side that looks ahead to the last days. To use seminary language – it’s the eschatological side – no matter what you call it, it’s the side of Advent I usually prefer to ignore. During Advent while we look back to the days leading up to Jesus’ birth we also look ahead to the end – the end that Jesus describes in the reading from Mark we heard last week on the First Sunday of Advent. For me, and probably many of us, this eschatological side of Advent – this looking ahead to the last days - is much less appealing, maybe even downright frightening. The lighting of the Advent candles each week seems less like the buildup to a joyful birth than the countdown to God’s judgment.

When I began thinking about Advent this year I saw only the purple side. Frankly, hasn’t the world seemed pretty eschatological lately? For many months not a week has gone by without some new horror occurring somewhere in the world – horrors produced by nature such as hurricanes and earthquakes that kill tens of thousands of people in an instant and the human-made horrors of war and terrorism. And, of course, there are the threats of more to come, whether carried by flu-infected birds or the unattended packages that I am reminded of and warned about each day while waiting for the PATH train.

So it was in that spirit – the spirit of our broken and exhausted world – that I approached this Advent and today’s readings. Today’s psalm, Psalm 85, immediately caught my attention. This psalm powerfully speaks to this Advent. Maybe written after the time of exile in Babylon, the psalmist looks back with gratitude for all the good things God has given – “You have been gracious to your land, O Lord” “You have forgiven the iniquity of your people” “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.”

At the same time the psalm acknowledges that right now things are not the way they should be, the way they were meant to be - we still have a way to go, we still need more restoration. “Will you be displeased with us forever? Will you prolong your anger from age to age? Will you not give us life again, that your people may rejoice in you? Will you not give us life again, that your people may rejoice in you?”

And finally, the psalm looks ahead to the future not with fear, but with confidence. “Truth shall spring up from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven. The LORD will indeed grant prosperity and our land will yield its increase. Righteousness shall go before him, and peace shall be a pathway for his feet.”

When I read the beautifully rich language of this psalm – mercy and truth meeting, righteousness and peace kissing, I was reminded of a word from one of my favorite books, a novel called Bee Season by Myla Goldberg, which as it turns out has just been made into a movie starring Richard Gere. The movie has gotten so-so reviews. I haven’t seen it yet so I can’t speak to its faithfulness to the book, but the book is a wonderfully wise reflection on love, family, spirituality, and even spelling. One of the characters, a middle-aged woman named Miriam is motivated by a mysterious mix of religion and mental illness to steal seemingly random and insignificant items from stores and people’s homes. Inspired by Jewish mysticism, she believes that through her petty theft she is somehow reassembling all the pieces of matter that were shattered in the moment of creation. She calls this strange collection “perfectimundo.” Perfectimundo – restoration back to the way things were meant to be.

Well, unlike Miriam, we certainly don’t need to steal shoes and ashtrays and carefully arrange them in a storage locker to experience “perfectimundo” – restoration back to the way things were meant to be. Actually, didn’t we experience a little perfectimundo a few moments ago listening to Psalm 85? “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” Isn’t that a glimpse of what we might call “perfectimundo”? Isn’t that a taste of the Kingdom of Heaven – the kingdom that breaks into the world in a new and decisive way when Mary says yes to the angel? And isn’t that also a taste of the Kingdom of God we look forward to on the last day?

How does the psalmist respond to this perfectimundo, this restoration back to the way things were meant to be? “I will listen to what the LORD God is saying, for he is speaking peace to his faithful people and to those who turn their hearts to him.” I will listen to what the LORD God is saying. Our psalm today calls us to listen, calls us to live mindfully, to really pay attention. It is Advent! God is at work restoring the world – bringing mercy and truth together, inviting righteousness and peace to kiss each other. Perfectimundo.

In the midst of our tired and broken world, this Advent, and always, we are called to do some hard work. We are called to listen and to watch, to remember and to anticipate. We are challenged to be mindful. In that spirit, and in preparing for today’s sermon, over the past few weeks I have tried to be a little more attentive and to look for God’s work of restoration in my life and in the world. I would like to share two of my discoveries with you.

It just so happens that the Second Sunday of Advent has a special meaning for my wife Sue and me. For the first couple of years we were married, our Christian faith was not much of a part of our lives together. Teaching at a Jesuit high school I had lots of opportunities for prayer and community – masses, prayer services, and retreats were all a big part of my life at school. But Sue and I came to recognize that we wanted to belong to a faith community together – this was something missing from our relationship. So, five years ago on the first Sunday of Advent we went to a Saturday evening mass at a local Catholic church - which will remain nameless to protect the innocent! To be charitable, let’s just say we didn’t find what we were hoping to find. It was, for both of us, a major disappointment.

The following week I was telling this story to a colleague (some of you may remember her – Patty Nickerson) who mentioned in an offhanded way that she went to the local Episcopal church, St. Paul’s, that was actually just a few blocks from our house. In part because as a local history buff I was curious to see the inside of this Victorian wood frame church, Sue and I went to St. Paul’s the following Sunday.

Perfectimundo – restoration to the way things were meant to be. We found not only a beautiful building but a lovely service with gorgeous music. We heard an intelligent, honest sermon. At the sign of peace, instead of a quick handshake with the person in front of or behind us, the St. Paul’s family was out in the aisle greeting and embracing one another. The rector made sure to say hello and welcome us to the church. I remember sitting in the pew that first Sunday watching the rainbow of people one by one kneel at the altar rail to receive communion. And, just when I thought this powerful experience was over, came the invitation to coffee hour. For some reason, at this church people did not – the moment they heard the words “go in peace” – race to be the first out of the parking lot. Instead, they socialized with one another. For an hour! Or even longer! Perfectimundo!

That day remains very special for both Sue and me. Of course we did not know then that we were starting out on a pathway that has led to some pretty amazing changes for both of us. And we did not know that Dave would become such a very close friend. I don’t know if any of you ever watch the TV show Boston Legal, but each time I see the warm friendship between the character Denny Crane (played by the great William Shatner) and Alan Shore I am reminded of my friendship with Dave – but, of course, ours is without the drinking, the cigars, or the dementia. Yet, all at once, he’s somehow brother, father, best friend, mentor, and the greatest priest I know, a treasured gift. Perfectimundo.

My second Advent discovery concerns a very different church. Just a few months before the end of World War II the allies launched a devastating raid on the German city of Dresden – a city which had long been regarded as one of the most beautiful in Europe. The city burned for week and over 30,000 people were killed. After the war Dresden was in the eastern, communist, side of Germany. The East German government set out to rebuild Dresden but decided to leave one of the city’s architectural jewels, the massive and ornate Lutheran Frauenkirche, the Church of Our Lady, standing as a burned-out ruined shell. For over forty years it stood as what one person described as “a gaping wound” - a stark and haunting reminder of the horror and the cost of war.

Once Germany was reunited the government decided to rebuild the church, a project which took a decade and over 200 million dollars to complete. Much of the money came from people in Germany’s wartime enemies, Britain and the United States. The gold cross that tops the church was donated by the British city of Coventry, which itself was crushed by German bombings during the war. This cross was created by the son of an English pilot who dropped bombs on Dresden in 1945. Perfectimundo – restoration to the way things were meant to be. I was fortunate enough to be in Dresden in 1995 and saw some of the early stages of the reconstruction. The church was surrounded by giant metal shelves holding carefully labeled pieces of masonry - an immense jigsaw puzzle that was finally rededicated just a few weeks ago, at the end of October.

It’s a puzzle completed by combining the dark, burned stones of the original church with new light colored sandstones. And perhaps that’s a fitting symbol for our Advent this year – a kind of bluish purple to remind us that while we have a ways to go, God is at work – bringing about restoration, restoration back to the way things were meant to be. So once again let’s join John down at the river. Once again let’s sit with Mary and ponder the words of the angel. And like the psalmist let us celebrate God’s past graciousness and forgiveness. In the midst of our tired and broken world let us look carefully for the times and places today when mercy and truth meet, and righteousness and peace kiss each other. And let us look to the future with confidence, knowing that truth shall spring up from the earth and righteousness shall look down from heaven. Let us wait and watch. Let us light our candles. It’s Advent! Let’s pay attention – after all, perfectimundo is all around us.

Amen.