God Builds a Really Big House

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

July 19, 2015

Year B, Proper 11: The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 7:1-14a

Psalm 89:20-37

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

God Builds a Really Big House

            A couple of weeks ago, Sue and I spent about a day and a half down the Shore with some good friends.

            I haven’t really been down there much since Hurricane Sandy and it felt good to be back.

            In the afternoon we took a walk along Ocean Avenue – which, as you might guess, and unlike our Ocean Avenue – runs right along the ocean.

            We looked at the beautiful houses along that strip of prime real estate – many of them new or mostly rebuilt since the hurricane.

            We were struck by how impressive they were – and just how big they are. Big houses!

            That shouldn’t come as a surprise since the size of the average American house has been growing for years – not so much around here where the lots are small and expensive but in other parts of the country where people have more money or land is a lot cheaper than it is here.

            In 1983 the average home size in the US was 1,725 square feet.

            In 2013, the average home size was 2,598 feet – an increase of 873 square feet in 30 years.

            For better or for worse – and there are a lot of negative environmental effects – Americans are building big houses.

            And, in a way, it turns out that is God is building a big house, too.

            If you’ve been in church during the last few weeks you may have noticed that our Old Testament lessons from Second Samuel have told the story of one of the most important people in the history of Israel: David.

            Saul was the first king of Israel but, because he fell out of divine favor, God sent the Prophet Samuel to a man named Jesse to anoint one of his sons to be Israel’s next king.

            As usual, God selected a most unlikely person for this most important task.

            Samuel goes to Jesse. Jesse brings out his sons one after the other beginning with the oldest.

            Each time the Lord says, no, not that one.

            Finally, when Jesse seems to have run out of sons, Samuel asks if there really are no more and Jesse replies, yes, there is – but because he was sure that God wouldn’t choose the youngest son, he was left out in the field tending the sheep.

            But, Samuel anoints David to be king.

            Then a couple of weeks ago we heard one of the best-known Bible stories, David and Goliath.

            Goliath, the Philistine giant, challenges Israel to a fight.

            David, still just a boy, volunteers to take him on.

            Goliath scoffs that the best Israel can do is send a little kid but of course David and the Israelites get the last laugh as God’s anointed, David, slays the giant.

            God chooses David for this most important task even though – or maybe because – he is a seriously flawed character – not a great father and definitely not much of a husband. David is ruthless - willing to shed blood to get what he wants.

            Next Sunday we’ll the story of how he sends Uriah the Hittite out to the front lines so he can be killed in battle and David can get what he wants, Uriah’s wife, the beautiful Bathsheba.

            But, today, we hear that David is king and living the way kings do, in a palace – a palace made of cedar, which was a particularly precious wood.

            And, to his credit, David has a realization – he realizes that his accommodations are a whole lot better than God’s.

            Since the days of the Exodus, centuries earlier, the Ark of the Covenant, a wooden box which was believed, in a sense, to contain the very presence of God, had been carried around under a tent and was now in David’s capital, Jerusalem.

            David thinks, “I live in a palace and God lives in a tent. There’s something wrong with this picture.”

            So, David decides to build a house for God.

            The Prophet Nathan agrees with the plan but, surprisingly, God doesn’t.

            God says, “Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle.”

            In all that time, God asks, “Did I ever speak a word with the tribal leaders of Israel saying…’Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’”

            Then God turns things around and announces something bigger. God declares that God will build David a bigger house – not a house of wood – but a royal house – a dynasty - that will reign forever.

            God builds a big house.

            But, it turns out that God has even bigger house in mind.

            In today’s second lesson, the author of the Letter to the Ephesians makes the point that, in and through Jesus, God has brought the gentiles into “the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.”

            In and through Jesus, God builds a house big enough for everybody.

            Our job is to invite people into this big house built by God.

            In fact, because we are so remarkably diverse and, for the most part, get along so well, I really believe that here at St. Paul’s we have a special vocation – a special call from God – to demonstrate that God’s house truly is big enough for us all.

            And, we’ve been doing a better and better job of inviting people into this big house built by God.

            We’ve been welcoming more and more people to our church – all kinds of people.

            They’ve been coming, maybe like sheep without a shepherd, to be fed in body and spirit.

            They’ve been coming because they’re hungry and they wonder if God’s house really is big enough for them, too.

            And, hopefully, they come here and they find out it really is big enough for us all.

            And we’ve been doing a better job of getting out into the community – even just a few feet out into the community with our beautiful garden that signals we’re alive with love and beauty.

            We’ve been doing a better job of getting out into the community through our outdoor services, through sharing food at the food pantry, through marching in the Caribbean parade again this year, through so many of us getting involved with the exciting community organizing effort that’s underway in Jersey City.

            Each time we go out there we remind people that God has built – is building – a really big house.

            It’s a house big enough for us – it’s a house big enough for everybody.

            God is building a really big house for us all.

            Amen. 

Deep-Rooted Love

The Wedding of Kristin Elizabeth Korsgaard and Michael Chang

July 18, 2015

Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

John 15:9-12

Deep-Rooted Love

            What a day! What a beautiful day!

            What a joy to celebrate the marriage of Kristin and Michael!

            What a gift to witness the love they share with each other – the love that has brought us all together today.

            You won’t be surprised to know that I go to a lot of weddings.

            I’m always glad when couples get in touch with me to let me know that they want to get married and ask me to be the officiant.

            It’s always so moving to see the hope and excitement of these couples as they step bravely into the future, courageous enough to make a lifelong commitment to each other.

            I always insist on a few sessions of pre-marital counseling with me in an effort to look at whatever issues a couple might have – to give them the chance to deal with these things before they get married.

            No surprise, some couples have some real issues – problems with communication, very different visions of the future, financial disagreements, families that don’t get along...

            We try to work through them as best we can but, I’ll admit, sometimes I find myself at weddings with some real doubts – with some red flags flying – but, of course, praying and hoping for the best.

            And then, there’s these two.

            Kristin and Mike.

            I had the usual premarital counseling sessions with them and, while I won’t say that these meetings were boring or a waste of time – how could spending time with Kristin and Mike be boring or a waste? – the truth is that after just a few minutes I saw what you all see and what you all know: how at ease they are with each other – how they are on the same page about everything that really matters.

            Although I still made them meet with me a few times – just in case - after only a few minutes it was clear to me that they are ready – they’ve been ready - they are ready to make a lifelong commitment of love to one another.

            You all agree, right?

            No, today my only real concern is that I have to stand between these two who are both taller than I am!

            It’s obvious that Kristin and Mike share a rich and deep love.

            It’s a love that is God’s greatest gift.

            It’s a love that began as friendship – an easy friendship among a large group of Madison friends – many of whom who are here today.

            It’s a love that was nurtured and shaped by the love that Mike and Kristin received and witnessed in their own strong and nurturing families – the love and devotion of parents and grandparents.

            And, it’s a love that truly began to take root during a time of great suffering and grief – in the days and weeks and months after the terribly sad death of Beth, whose loving and joyful presence I know so many of us feel here today.

            As St. Paul writes, “Love never ends.”

            And, so the love that began in a time of grief has now taken deep, deep root and become the obvious and beautiful and never-ending love - God’s greatest gift -that we celebrate here today.

            Now, we’ve already agreed that these two are as solid as they come but we also know that in every life and in every marriage there are challenges, fears, disappointments, and grief.

            Even the most deep-rooted love can be bent and cracked by the storms of life.

            So, you and I – we’re here to celebrate and to bless and to have a good time but we’re also here to make an important promise of our own – a promise to support of Kristin and Mike in their married life, no matter what.

            So, yes, I go to a lot of weddings.

            But, it’s rare to celebrate with a couple whose love truly is so deep-rooted – Kristin and Mike, a couple whose love is so obvious – Kristin and Mike, a couple whose love is such a clear and powerful and beautiful sign of God’s love for us all.

            What a day!

            What a beautiful day!

            Amen.

           

            

Shadows

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

July 12, 2015

Year B, Proper 10: The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19

Psalm 24

Ephesians 1:3-14

Mark 6:14-29

Shadows

            Many of you have heard me say how much I love weekday worship – how important it is for my own spiritual health.

            One of the things that makes me happiest about my time at St. Paul’s so far is the fact that we’ve been able to maintain a regular schedule of weekday services for about two years now.

            Week in and week out, thanks to a small band of dedicated lay people, we offer our three regularly scheduled services – sometimes well-attended, sometimes not, it doesn’t matter.

            And we also celebrate the Eucharist on all of the major feasts of the church year.

            I love the major feasts when we can focus on – reflect on – the lives and the faith of the apostles and also specific incidents in the life of Jesus – people and moments that we’re not able to give so much attention to here on Sunday.

            For example, every May 31 we celebrate one of my most favorite feast days – the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

            Every May 31 we get a little taste of Christmas when we remember the story told by Luke of the Virgin Mary – who has just said yes to the awesome news presented to her by the Angel Gabriel – Mary has just said yes to God – has just said yes to carrying God into the world in a new and unique way.

            On the Feast of the Visitation we remember the story of the miraculously pregnant Mary hurrying to a Judean town in the hill country to visit her cousin Elizabeth who, it turns out, is having her own miraculous pregnancy – pregnant in her old age.

            Luke tells us that Mary is miraculously pregnant with Jesus and Elizabeth is miraculously pregnant with John the Baptist.

            Remember the story?

            Mary enters the house, calling out a greeting, and the unborn John the Baptist leaps in Elizabeth’s womb.

            Elizabeth cries out words familiar to every Catholic, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!”

            And Mary replies with her own song – her song of joy and revolution – the Maginificat:

            “My souls magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…”

            “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich empty away.”

            The Visitation.

            A little bit of Christmas at the end of May.

            It’s a joyful scene – two women miraculously pregnant, sharing the joy and wonder of new life.

            But, of course there are shadows hovering over this joyous scene, as well.

            Mary and Elizabeth don’t know it – though they may have had their suspicions since throughout Jewish history prophets often found themselves in difficulty, often lived hard lives.

            Mary and Elizabeth don’t know it but we know that John and Jesus are linked not only through kinship. They are linked not only by their common message of repentance. John and Jesus are also linked through the violent deaths that await them both.

            The shadow of death hovers over this scene of joy.

            Shadows.

            In today’s gospel lesson the shadows grow very dark indeed when hear the ultimate fate of Elizabeth’s son, John the Baptist.

            The court of Herod Antipas, ruler of Galilee, puppet of the Roman Empire, was a shadowy place, full of intrigue and plotting and boasting and death.

            The court of Herod Antipas was a shadowy place – where promises were made that shouldn’t have been made – promises that definitely shouldn’t have been kept. Herod swore to the dancing girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it. Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.”

            Instead of half of his kingdom the girl follows her mother’s orders and asks gruesomely for the head of the prophet John the Baptist on a platter.

            Herod isn’t amoral, though. He knows the shadow of shame – he knows what he’s about to do is wrong - but the shadow of insecurity – the desire to save face at all cost wins the day and John was beheaded.

            John the Baptist – that wild prophet who called the people to repentance and called out the religious establishment – that courageous prophet who challenged Herod about his unlawful marriage – that cousin of Jesus – he knew about shadows too – he knew the shadow of the executioner raising the blade above his head – the shadow of death hovering quite literally above him.

            Of course, as we heard today, the shadow of guilt continued to hover over Herod – and when he heard about what Jesus is doing he knows the shadow of dread – he declares - wrongly - “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

            Shadows.

            We know all about shadows, don’t we?

            Even in our most joyful moments when, like Mary and Elizabeth long ago, we celebrate miraculous new life – when we celebrate a pregnancy or a birth – when we celebrate a new relationship – when we celebrate falling in love or making a new friend – when we celebrate reconnecting with someone we thought we had lost – when we celebrate a new job or a new opportunity – even in our most joyful moments there are always shadows hovering around us, aren’t there?

            Shadows.

            The shadows of illness and death – the shadows of separation or divorce – the shadows of misunderstandings and words that can’t ever be taken back – the shadows of downsizing, layoffs, unemployment, unpaid bills – these shadows are hovering all around us.

            And out there in the world the shadows of racism and unspeakable violence darken the lives of so many both here in our city and our country and all around the world – from Jersey City to Charleston to Yemen.

            When the first Christians reflected on the story of the brutal death of John the Baptist they saw foreshadowing - foreshadowing of the brutal death faced by Jesus.

            Once again, a weak political ruler – in this case, Pontius Pilate – knew he was doing the wrong thing – knew that he was going to take the life of an innocent man – but the shadows of insecurity – the shadows of power and saving face no matter the cost – won the day.

            Or… seemed to have won the day.

            Hanging on the cross, Jesus knew all about shadows – the shadows of betrayal, abandonment, pain, fear and death.

            Good Friday was the most shadowy of day of all.

            But, because of Easter, the first Christians also knew that God’s light is brighter than any shadow – that life defeats death – that perfect love casts out any and all shadows.

            So, yes, like I said, the major feasts are great – and I love celebrating them. I wish everybody could celebrate them with us.

            But, you know, each Sunday we celebrate the greatest of all feasts – each Sunday we come together here to celebrate a little Easter – a little Easter in July - each Sunday we come here with all of our shadows of fear and death – we come here to celebrate Easter – to allow God’s light to brighten our shadows – we come here to get a little taste of the new life that awaits us – we come here and experience foreshadowing of miraculous new life – new life where there are no shadows at all.

            So…let’s have a little Easter in July:

            Alleluia! Christ is risen!

            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            Amen! 

Go in Peace to Love and Serve the Lord

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

July 5, 2015

Year B, Proper 9: The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10

Psalm 48

2 Corinthians 12:2-10

Mark 6:1-13

Go in Peace to Love and Serve the Lord           

            What’s your favorite part of the service?

            That’s a question I often ask when I teach youth confirmation class to get the kids thinking about what we do here on Sunday.

            What’s your favorite part of the service?

            Here at St. Paul’s a lot (but not all!) of us love exchanging the peace. Obviously. We love the music especially since Gail has been with us. We love receiving Communion. And many of us love coffee hour when we can enjoy a nice lunch with our friends and church family.

            And, maybe for some of us – especially those few of us who might rather be someplace else on a Sunday morning - our favorite part is the dismissal:

            “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

            But, actually, I think for all of us the dismissal should be, if not our favorite, then at least one of the most important parts of the service.

            “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

             As some of you know, Friday marked the end of the General Convention of the Episcopal Church.

            Every three years, thousands of Episcopalians gather for nearly two weeks to take care of the business of the church, setting priorities and making budgets for the following three years.

            This time around there were two big decisions that caught the attention of many Episcopalians and also the news media.

            The first was the election of The Rt. Rev. Michael Curry to serve as Presiding Bishop for the next nine years. This caught people’s eye because, as I mentioned last week, he is the first African-American to be elected Presiding Bishop.

            That’s important and worthy of thanksgiving but I’m equally thankful that he has an obvious love of Jesus and eagerness to share the Good News with a world that is so hungry for the Gospel.

            Bishop Curry has already begun to send us out there to love and serve the Lord.

            Second, you may have heard that General Convention voted overwhelmingly to change the rules of the church to allow for same-sex marriages.

            In parts of the church, very much including the Diocese of Newark, same-sex blessings and more recently weddings have been going on for years, but just like the country, that hasn’t been true everywhere.

            Now, according to the canons of the church there is just marriage – not same-sex marriage.

            Needless to say, many people have been overjoyed about this development, while others… not so much.

            I’m well aware that there are different views about this right here at St. Paul’s, which, of course is fine so long as we continue to treat each other with love, as we nearly always do.

            For better or for worse, this decision marks the end of about 40 years of reflection, discussion, and, yes, quite a bit of fighting about the place of LGBT people in the Episcopal Church.

            My prayer is that we will now use that same kind of energy that we’ve devoted to this issue now to go in peace to love and serve the Lord – to go out there – to go out there and share the Good News with a city that is so hungry for the Gospel.

            In today’s gospel lesson we hear the story of Jesus visiting his hometown of Nazareth.

            At first, things seem to go well.

            As he’s done in other places, Jesus teaches in the synagogue and astounds everyone with his wisdom.

            But, rather than celebrating the Nazareth boy made good, the locals begin to question where this Jesus the craftsman – the son of Mary – we know his brothers and sisters – we remember him as a little kid – they question where did he get all of this?

            Mark tells us that Jesus’ own townspeople and probably members of his own family – people he’s known and loved his whole life – they take offense at him.

            In fact, the negativity in Nazareth – the lack of faith – is so powerful that Jesus could perform few acts of power there.

            And then, notice what happens next.

            Jesus doesn’t despair, doesn’t waste time moping around the house, doesn’t waste time trying to convince his stubborn and close-minded neighbors, family, and friends that he has Good News for them.

            No, Jesus goes out there to love and serve – Jesus goes out to the other villages and teaches there.

            And then, he sends out the twelve apostles – sends out the often weak and confused and quarrelsome apostles - sends them out to do his work – to continue his work - of teaching and healing and calling people to repentance.

            Jesus sends them out there with almost nothing.

            “He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts…”

            Jesus sends them out there with almost nothing – but with everything they need.

            As the Lord said to St. Paul, an apostle who was burdened by some kind of ailment, we don’t know what: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

            Today, Jesus sends us out there with almost nothing – but with everything we need.

            Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

            We are sent - not alone but two by two, together - we are sent into a city hungry for the Gospel.

            We are sent into a city where the haves have so much but are often so spiritually poor.

            We are sent into a city where there are so many have-nots, including some of us right here - people not sure they can make rent, fearful that they won’t be able to feed themselves or their families, despairing that life will never get better and only get worse.

            We are sent into a city where every morning people are lined up outside liquor stores and bars waiting for them to open – a city where people are stumbling around drunk or high at all hours of the day and night – a city where in some neighborhoods there are people on nearly every corner looking to sell poison to us, to our neighbors, our children, and those who drive in from out of town looking to get high.

            We are sent into a city that can be a cold, hard place on even a hot, sunny summer day – a place where no one seems to care – where everyone seems to just look out for number one.

            Jesus has given us a tough mission. There’s no time to despair, no time to mope around the house.

            Yes, we’ll be rejected just like Jesus was rejected and just as the first apostles were rejected.

            Yes, we don’t seem to have enough – after all it’s just us with all of our weaknesses, insecurities and failures.

            But, the truth is we’ve been given all that we need to go out there and share the Good News – to love the hard to love and to heal what’s so terribly broken.

            The Lord says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

            Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

            Amen.            

Trusting the God of New Life

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

June 28, 2015

Year B, Proper 8: The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27

Psalm 130

2 Corinthians 8:7-15

Mark 5:21-43

Trusting the God of New Life

            A while back I mentioned to you that when I was a teenager I participated in my high school’s retreat program – retreats that had and continue to have a deep effect on my life.

            The retreats took place over a long weekend down the Shore in a rambling old Victorian house, bringing together classmates, some of whom knew each other very well and others who might not have even known each other’s names.

            Since over the course of the retreat it was common for us kids to share some personal stuff, it was important for us to build trust right from the start so we could share without fearing it would be the talk of the cafeteria after we got back to school.

            So, early on we were asked to do a trust exercise that began with all of us pairing off.

            Then, we took turns turning our backs on our partner, stretching out our arms and falling backwards, hoping – trusting – that our partner would catch us before we fell onto the hardwood floor.

            Some of us had no trouble taking the plunge while others had great difficulty believing, trusting, that the other kid would actually care enough and/or be strong enough to save us.

            But it was only through trust – through trusting each other and trusting God -that we could be open to – could receive - the experience of the retreat.

            In today’s gospel lesson, we heard the stories of two miracles performed by Jesus – miracles that seem to require people to trust Jesus.

            In one, a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, comes to Jesus because his twelve year-old daughter is gravely ill. This distraught father somehow trusts that Jesus can heal her. He says to Jesus,

            “Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.”

            But, first there’s an interruption.

            The second story is sandwiched in the middle of today’s passage. A woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years, spending all of her money only to be tortured and disappointed by doctors – this woman trusts in Jesus enough that she boldly touches his cloak. She said, maybe to herself or maybe out loud,

            “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”

            The woman trusts Jesus, reaches out her hand, and the hemorrhage stops immediately. Her twelve long years of suffering are over.

            And then we’re back to Jairus’ daughter.

            It seems that Jesus may be too late when people arrive with the news that the girl is dead.

            But, Jesus tells Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.”

            The bleeding woman trusted that Jesus would give her new life.

            Jairus trusted that Jesus would offer his daughter new life.

            So, here’s the point: Faith isn’t so much a matter of believing certain religious statements to be true.

            That’s what people often think but it’s just not the case.

            No, instead, faith is much more a matter of trust – for us, faith means placing our trust in God and in Jesus the Son of God.

            Faith is trusting the God of new life.

            Unfortunately, and for lots of good reasons, trust is hard.

            On my high school retreat it was hard for some of us to trust and let ourselves fall back into a stranger’s arms.

            I’m sure it was hard for Jairus to trust there was new life for his daughter when everybody was saying that she was dead.

            It was hard for that poor suffering woman – bleeding for twelve long years – to trust that Jesus might actually offer her new life.

            And, trust is hard for us, too.

            Many of us have faced betrayal.

             And, maybe some of us ourselves haven’t always been trustworthy, haven’t always lived up to the trust that others placed in us.

            So, yes, trust is hard for us.

            But, it’s necessary.

            All God really asks of us is to trust – to trust God who never betrays a trust – to trust God who is always standing by, ready to catch us, to heal us, to offer us new life.

            It has been a very emotional, roller-coaster week, hasn’t it?

            The Supreme Court has been busy saving the Affordable Care Act and declaring same-sex marriage legal in all 50 States.

            And then there’s Charleston.

            Like many of you, I’m sure, this past week I’ve continued to follow the story, reading many different articles about Emanuel AME Church, its amazing pastor, Rev. Clementa Pinckney and the eight others who were killed in the attack, about the alleged perpetrator and especially about how the people of this church – the relatives and friends of those who were killed - how the people of this community have responded to horror.

            Over and over they have shown themselves to be people of faith. They are people of faith not because of the different religious ideas they have in their heads but because they have a radical trust in the God of new life.

            This trust must have been built over the years through practice – through practice so that when the time of testing came they trusted God completely.

            The sister of one of those killed said, “Emanuel does not harbor hate in her heart. That’s not the God we serve. It’s important for us to know that the young man (the alleged killer) is a mother’s son, a father’s son. If he can earnestly repent, God will hear him.”

            Trusting the God of new life.

            One family who lost a loved one has started the “Hate Won’t Win Challenge” that invites people to “commit an act of love” and post it on social media.

            Trusting the God of new life.

            Another said, “We are here to combat hate-filled actions with love-filled actions. And is what we want to get out into the world.”

            Trusting the God of new life.

            The sister of another victim said, “Forgiveness is the only way. Others may not agree with me but that’s the way it has to be.” And, she added, “I believe that our God is a god of purpose.”

            Trusting the God of new life.

            Over and over the families and friends of those killed at Emanuel Church have, despite the evil hatred and deadly violence they have endured – despite the racism they have faced their whole lives – despite the perfectly human desire for revenge – over and over these beautiful Christian brothers and sisters have radically and wholeheartedly put their trust in Jesus Christ the Son of God.

            Faith is trusting the God of new life.

            And, look at what’s happened in our country in the days since the massacre!

            New life. New life all around us.

            For decades many, many people have been deeply unhappy about the display of old Confederate symbols on public property – at state capitols, as part of state flags, on license plates, and so on.

            And yet there just hasn’t been the political will to do much about it.

            Until now.

            New life.

            And, I sense a new spirit in our land – a new spirit that President Obama expressed in his amazing eulogy of Rev. Pinckney on Friday – a new spirit, a new grace, a new willingness to finally, finally face our old problems and prejudices.

            I sense a new spirit in the land to set aside our own misgivings and misunderstandings, our own prejudices and to accept – and, yes, even celebrate – when, yet again, love wins, as it surely did at the Supreme Court last week.

            New life.

            Faithful Jairus trusted Jesus with the life of his daughter.

            The faithful woman bleeding trusted Jesus with her very life.

            Their trust led them to new life.

            And, what was true for them long ago is true for the people of Emanuel Church - and for us - today.

            All God asks us is to trust – to trust the God who is always standing by, ready to catch us, to heal us, to offer us new life.

            Faith is trusting the God of new life.

            Amen.

           

           

Our Boat

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

June 21, 2015

Year B, Proper 7: The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

1 Samuel 17:1a, 4-11, 19-23, 32-49

Psalm 9:9-20

2 Corinthians 6:1-13

Mark 4:35-41

Our Boat

            Sometimes when I’m downtown at the waterfront I like to take a few minutes and look at the boats docked in the marina next to Liberty Park.

            Have you ever done that?

            Now, I don’t know the first thing about boats but the beauty and the size of many of the boats always impresses me.

            I bet like a lot of other people, I always think to myself that these boats must cost a fortune – a fortune just to buy one and a fortune to maintain it just sitting there in the dock.

            Now, I don’t know this for sure but I suspect that some of these boat owners don’t actually take their boats out of dock and into the open waters all that often.

            Instead, for them the fun of owning the boat is tinkering with the engine and the other mechanisms, making improvements and refinements, painting and polishing and so on.

            They enjoy just hanging out on the boat while it’s docked.

            Well, in today’s gospel passage Jesus and his disciples take their boat out of the dock and out into the open sea.

            Mark tells us that Jesus said to the disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.”

            Which means across the Sea of Galilee away from the Jewish territory where Jesus has been teaching and healing – across the Sea of Galilee to Gentile lands on the other side – across the Sea of Galilee and into unknown territory.

            Dangerous.

            And, as we just heard, sure enough Jesus and the disciples get caught up in a great windstorm, terrifying the disciples, but not Jesus who seems to be snoozing through the whole thing.

            But, Jesus is there in the boat with the disciples and he calms the storm.

            And then, Jesus asks the disciples the haunting questions, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”

            For more than one reason, I’ll never own a boat.

            And I’m going to guess that’s true for pretty much everybody here today.

            But, actually, you and I, we do have boat.

            One of the earliest Christian images for the church – maybe as early as the Gospel of Mark – is a boat.

            We see that image in lots of early Christian art.

            And we see it in church architecture where this center part of the church is called the nave, from the Latin word for ship, and the ceilings of many churches are designed to look like the bottom of a boat.

            Here at St. Paul’s, we have a boat.

            The church is a boat – not the building but the people - us.

            The church is a boat.

            I have no doubt that the people of Emanuel AME Church in Charleston have always understood that their church is a boat.

            Their boat was tossed to and fro by the terrifying storms of slavery and relentless racism, when by law black people had to worship only during daylight hours, when by law in South Carolina all churches had to have majority white congregations, when it was illegal for black people to be taught how to read and write, when their church was burned to the ground after an alleged slave revolt.

            In the 1960s, they took their boat into the heart of the civil rights movement, invited the major leaders to speak right there in the heart of racist white Charleston, the so-called “holy city.”

            And, of course, now they have faced yet another storm – the storm of a young, angry, violent racist with a gun joining an evening bible study for an hour before opening fire killing nine beautiful people, including the church’s pastor.

            During all these storms, I’m sure what sustained the people of Mother Emanuel was the sure knowledge that Jesus was right there on the boat with them, maybe seeming to be asleep but never really asleep.

            Jesus was right there - is right there - and we can hear him speaking in and through the family members when they spoke to the alleged perpetrator the other day in court.

            Tywanza Sanders’ mother said, “You have killed some of the most beautifulest people I know. Every fiber in my body hurts, and I will never be the same. Tywanza Sanders is my son, but Tywanza was my hero. Tywanza was my hero. But, as we say in Bible study, we enjoyed you. But, may God have mercy on you.”

            In the midst of the terrible storm, Jesus says, “Peace! Be Still!”

            So, the question for us is, are we going to be like the boat owner spending most of our time tinkering and repairing and polishing and painting our boat – are we just going to hang out on our boat here at the dock?           

            Or, are we going to take her out across to the other side – out into the open sea – out to unknown and sometimes dangerous territory?

            I see signs that we’re willing to go further out from shore.

            We’ve taken our boat out on some short cruises like our Good Friday Stations of the Cross procession which took us to some dangerous places, to some corners of sadness and tragedy.

            We’ve taken her out through our monthly community suppers, opening our doors to anyone who shows up looking for a meal.

            We’ve taken her out by getting involved in the new community organizing effort with other people from all across Jersey City.

            And, just yesterday morning a couple of our kids took her out by volunteering at Garden State Episcopal CDC’s emergency food pantry over at Church of the Incarnation where we saw about 150 of our neighbors come forward to receive bags of food.

            I believe we are going to take our boat out across to the other side – out to our neighborhoods, out to the streets of Bergen-Lafayette and Greenville where young men continue to maim and kill one another, with two murders within hours of each other last Sunday.

            We are going to take our boat out into a society still infected by racism, still divided into a few haves and so many have-nots, still armed to the teeth - out into a world that through our waste and carelessness we are quickly to reducing to a pile of filth, as Pope Francis wrote in his encyclical released on Thursday.

            Together we are going to take our boat – the church – this church – across to the other side.

            But, as the disciples learned long ago and as the people of Emanuel Church learned yet again on Wednesday night, this can be a dangerous journey. Terrifying storms can pop up at any minute and it can feel like we are about to perish. And, sometimes, it can look to the world like we have in fact perished.

            But, Jesus was right there at that Bible Study on Wednesday night.

            And, Jesus is still with the people of Emanuel Church.

            And, Jesus is right here with us on our boat.

            Jesus is right here on our boat asking us, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

            Amen. 

The Greatest of All Shrubs

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

June 14, 2015

Year B, Proper 6: The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13

Psalm 20

2 Corinthians 5:6-17

Mark 4:26-34

The Greatest of All Shrubs

            Like most, if not all, of us, I’ve been trying to save a couple of bucks where I can.

            A couple of weeks ago I realized that I had fallen into the expensive and waist-expanding habit of going out for lunch pretty much every day. One day it was a couple of slices from Prince of Pizza. Another day I’d walk to the VIP or drive down to the Brownstone.

            You know how it goes.

            I got into this habit because, to be honest, sometimes it feels good to get off the St. Paul’s campus, where I both live and work, after all.

            And, also to be honest, I got into this habit out of laziness. It’s nice to have someone else prepare and serve me lunch!

            But, I realized that this doing a number on my wallet – and was probably not a healthy choice.

            So, I decided to buy bread and cold cuts and make lunch for myself at home as much as possible.

            You’re impressed, I know.

            The other day I prepared a roast beef sandwich on good bread and to top it off I slathered some spicy brown mustard on my creation.

            I bit into that sandwich made by my own hands in the comfort of the dining room table of the rectory – my own home – and it tasted so good.

            Hungry, yet?

            Well, I remembered that delicious mustard-slathered sandwich when I began to reflect on today’s gospel passage from Mark.

            One thing we know for sure about Jesus is that he taught using parables, which are short – sometimes very short – stories that contain multiple meanings.

            Jesus probably told the same parables over and over in different places, with different people, probably changing some of the details to suit particular audiences.

            And, he used images that the people around him would have experienced or at least known about, though almost always with at least one twist, and some exaggeration, and even some humor.

            Today we heard two parables, both about seeds.

            And, in both cases, Jesus teaches that God is responsible for the growth.

            God has given us the job to plant seeds - our job is to plant seeds – even very small seeds – and God takes those small seeds and provides growth.

            Two thousand years later, even here in gritty Jersey City, we can all still appreciate the image. We see it happening right here in our church garden.

            Today I’d like to focus on the second parable, the Parable of the Mustard Seed.

            In this parable, we hear Jesus using some exaggeration and humor.

            His listeners in the First Century would have known very well that mustard seeds, though small, are not the smallest.

            And, the “greatest of all shrubs” – well, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it?

            When I think “great” I imagine the majestic redwoods of California, or the towering trees of the Amazon rainforest, not a shrub standing just a few feet off the ground.

            I bet the first hearers of the parable would have chuckled at that “greatest of all shrubs” business.

            Who knew, this rabbi, this Jesus of Nazareth, he’s funny!

            But the first hearers of this parable would have known a few other things, too.

            They knew about mustard plants.

            They knew that birds did sometimes take shelter in these shrubs.

            They knew that mustard could be used as a medicine to heal.

            And, they knew that mustard was delicious, adding spice to bland food.

            The kingdom of God is like a little mustard seed that grows into a shrub, providing shelter, healing, and spice.

            And, that’s who we’re supposed to be.

            The Church – our church – is meant to offer people a taste of the kingdom of God right here on Duncan Avenue, right here on Storms Avenue.

            We plant little seeds and God grows us into a shrub providing shelter, healing, and spice.

            Each time we truly welcome the stranger – especially when it’s somebody different than us, someone we might be inclined to distrust or dislike  - each time we truly welcome a stranger with a smile, a handshake, with genuine care and interest, we plant a seed.

            Each time we reach out to someone who’s struggling – to the person who is facing illness or even death, the person who is reeling from a broken relationship, who’s lost the love of their lives, the person who can’t pay the bills, the person who’s homeless or addicted – each time we reach out to a person who’s struggling, we plant a seed.

            Each time we live the faith that is within us – when we live joyfully knowing that there is a God who knows each one of us intimately and loves us no matter what we do or don’t do – each time we live joyfully knowing that God loves us enough to come among us in and through Jesus of Nazareth – each time we live joyfully knowing the Easter truth that love conquers death, that love wins - each time we sing out our faith even if we can’t carry a tune – each time we live our Christian life with zest – each time we live the faith that is in us - we plant a seed.

            Now, the truth is we are never going to be a mega-church with thousands and thousands of members – a grand cathedral that people will pay money to tour and take pictures of our windows and statues - we’re never going to be a magnificent redwood.

            No, that’s not us.

            You and I, we’re called to just plant our little seeds – and let God grow us into the greatest of all shrubs – just big enough for the birds to take shelter in our branches.

            We just have to let God grow us into delicious mustard – so we can provide shelter, healing, and spice for all the people out there looking for home, looking for health, and looking for joy.

            With God’s help, together, we can be the greatest of all shrubs.

            And that’s no joke.

            Amen.