Taste and See: A Journey with Jesus

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

October 25, 2015

Year B, Proper 25: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Job 42:1-6, 10-17

Psalm 34:1-8, 19-22

Hebrews 7:23-28

Mark 10:46-52

Taste and See: A Journey with Jesus

            Today, in a little while, during communion, we’re going to sing my favorite hymn, “Taste and See.”

            Not coincidentally, the words of the hymn are based on today’s psalm, Psalm 34:

            Taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are they who trust in him.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are they who trust in him.

            Amen.

            We are on a journey with Jesus.

            For the past few Sundays we’ve been making our way through the Gospel of Mark. We’ve been hearing the story of Jesus and his disciples journeying from their home in Galilee to the capital city of Jerusalem.

            Along the way, Jesus has been predicting what will happen to him in Jerusalem, preparing his disciples, his friends, for his arrest, his death, and his rising again on the third day.

            For the most part, the disciples are so self-absorbed, so wrapped up in their own stuff that they don’t seem to get it – or don’t want to get it.

            The disciples are so self-absorbed, so wrapped up in their own stuff, that they try to stand in Jesus’ way – try to tempt Jesus to abandon his mission, to avoid his fate.

            The disciples are so self-absorbed, so wrapped up in their own stuff, that they  prefer to argue about who among them is the greatest and even, as we heard last week, who will get the best seats in the next life.

            And now we’re approaching the end of the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, we’re approaching the end of the journey that began with Jesus restoring sight to a blind man.

            We’re approaching the end of the journey and now once again Jesus encounters a blind man.

            Poor Bartimaeus. A nobody.

            He’s so poor, so unimportant, he doesn’t even seem to have his own name. Bartimaeus simply means “Son of Bartimaeus.”

            Imagine him there, poor blind Bartimaeus, day after day on the side of the road with his hands outstretched, maybe holding a small bowl, hoping somebody, anybody, will notice him and share a small coin with him.

            But, we don’t have to stretch our imagination too far, do we?

            We see people like that all the time, on Bergen Avenue, at Journal Square, huddled in doorways or crouched on the steps.

            Bartimaeus’ eyes don’t work but his ears do. And, actually, you know maybe this poor blind man sees more than others with perfect sight.

            He’s heard of Jesus of Nazareth and his miraculous healings.

            He knows the Son of David is on his way to his capital city.

            And so when Jesus draws near he seizes the moment and shouts, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

            The crowd tries to shut him up, but Bartimaeus cries out even louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

            And, when he gets his moment with Jesus he knows what he wants.

            “My teacher, let me see again.”

             Once his sight is restored, Bartimaeus becomes a disciple. He follows Jesus on the way, on the way to Jerusalem, on the way to the cross and the empty tomb.

            And, I’m pretty sure that unlike the other disciples, Bartimaeus won’t be self-absorbed, won’t be wrapped up in his own stuff. He has tasted and seen that the Lord is good. Happy are they who trust in him.

            For the past month or so, I’ve definitely been more like the disciples, self-absorbed and wrapped up in my own stuff, rather than Bartimaeus who is able to taste and see that the Lord is good.

            I haven’t been jockeying for position like they were but I’ve been kind of in the dumps since my ill-fated and brief return to classroom teaching.

            I’m comfortable that I made the right decision. It’s just that it’s been hard to move forward because I keep running into people who don’t know, so they ask me how the teaching is going, what’s it like to be back at Prep, …

            Over and over, I’ve had to re-tell the story, each time reopening the wound.

            So, as I thought about and prayed about today’s sermon, I thought, I’m on a journey with Jesus - we’re on a journey with Jesus - and it’s time for me to get over myself and to be less like the self-absorbed disciples, worried about how things look and what people will think, and be more like Bartimaeus, who, even in his blindness and poverty, is able to taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Last Saturday, most of the vestry along with some members of the Finance Committee, sacrificed most of their Saturday to have a little retreat out in Chatham where we reflected on stewardship, focused on the many gifts that God has already given us here at St. Paul’s and the gifts that are yet to be discovered.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Last Sunday, we had at least three parishioners taking on new ministries. Cirila did a great job reading the lessons and leading the prayers. Koren offered a beautiful solo for the offertory. And, Chanel bore the Blood of Christ with great reverence and dignity. Plus, Chris, our new acolyte, was put to work for the fourth or fifth Sunday in a row.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Last weekend, Trish directed Nica, Dennis, Gail, and others in a performance of “The Devil and Tom Walker” and other works right here in Carr Hall. It was moving to see people work so hard, to be so committed to their craft, and to offer so much pleasure and enrichment to others.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Last Sunday, Susan Den Herder stood up at the 10:00 service and spoke bravely and openly about her own financial challenges but also her firm commitment to support the ministry of the church - our church - that she loves so much. And, pledge cards poured in – new parishioners pledging for the first time – many people sacrificing to increase their pledge – and not a single reduction.

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Last Tuesday evening, I was standing outside when three twenty-somethings came along and asked me if I “manage” this church. Well, …

            It turns out that they are NYU film students and they want to shoot their movie right here in our driveway and on the grounds. They were dazzled by the historic beauty of this place – a beauty that I know but often take for granted or even forget when I get wrapped up in my own stuff.

            That same night I met with a community activist who wants to you use our space to offer a meal to homeless people on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. We had never met in person (she reached out through Facebook, of course) so I was a little startled – and really happy - when she said that we were her first choice because, and I quote, “this is a real community church. Everybody in the neighborhood knows it.”

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            That was all in one week. And, there’s more I could tell you. The crying woman I met outside a couple of weeks ago who returned to talk about family problems.

            Taste and see.

            The neighborhood people who one after the other are volunteering to be our chef at Stone Soup.

            Taste and see.

            The fact that last week, thanks to our faithful band of worship leaders, we had five weekday services, one a day, Monday through Friday.

            Taste and see.

            The man who rang the rectory doorbell yesterday and told me that 40 years ago he stole from our poor box and he’s carried that guilt all these years and now he wanted to make amends so he handed me a $50 bill for the church.

            Taste and see. Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            And, now here we are.

            We are on a journey with Jesus.

            And we have a choice to make.

            Are we like the disciples, so self-absorbed and wrapped up in our own stuff, that we can’t taste and see that Jesus is right here?

            Or, are we like blind Bartimaeus, who hears Jesus, who, despite his troubles, somehow sees Jesus, cries out to him to be healed, and follows him on the way?

            Taste and see that the Lord is good.

            Happy are they who trust in him.

            Amen.

True Greatness

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

October 18, 2015

Year B, Proper 24: The Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost

Job 38:1-7, 34-41

Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b

Hebrews 5:1-10

Mark 10:35-45

True Greatness

            One of the fun parts of teaching at St. Peter’s Prep for a couple of weeks at the start of the school year was that I got to be around for the visit of Pope Francis to the United States.

            To say that much of the administration, faculty, and at least some of the students of this Jesuit school, were excited about the visit of the first Jesuit pope would be an understatement.

            People had their picture taken with a life-size Pope Francis cut-out that was set up in the school lobby.

            The school put up banners on the buildings welcoming the pope, knowing that he’d never see them.

            Students made a video that was shown to the whole school. There was an essay contest. The entire school watched the pope’s address to the United Nations. And members of the community traveled to Manhattan and Philadelphia just to get a glimpse of the pope.

            It was truly Pope-mania!

            It was interesting to be there and to some extent get caught up in the excitement but also be a little removed from it – able to study it and him, a little.

            And what strikes me about Pope Francis is that he has a remarkable ability to teach through example.           

            Right from the start of his pontificate, he’s rejected the trappings of his office. Right after his election, he insisted on riding back to the hotel on the bus with other cardinals, insisted on paying his own hotel bill, insisted on carrying his own bag, and insisted living not in a palace but in two rooms.

            He’s had a homeless shelter opened right there in the Vatican.

            He’s a master at the symbolic gesture. On Maundy Thursday instead of washing the feet of twelve priests as was the custom, he’s gone to prison, washing the feet of inmates, including women and Muslims.

            And, during his U.S. visit, he preached some of the best sermons I’ve ever seen by rejecting the usual limousine or a Suburban SUV and instead being driven around in a little, fuel-efficient, Fiat.

            He preached one of the best sermons I’ve ever seen when after he addressed Congress he declined to have lunch with congressmen and senators and instead dined with some of the many homeless people in our nation’s capital city.

            There’s a danger of idolizing the Pope – he’s the first to admit that he’s a sinner like all of us – but, really, what he does so effectively and brilliantly through his example is remind the Church, remind all of us, of one Jesus’ central teachings:

            True greatness comes from serving others.

            And, it’s a lesson that we need to learn over and over.

            And, actually, it was a lesson that Jesus’ first disciples seemed to have needed to learn over and over.             

            You may remember a couple of weeks ago we heard the story of Jesus predicting what was going to happen to happen to him – what’s called a Passion Prediction.

            Jesus and he friends are walking along the road when he tells the disciples that he will be arrested and killed and rise again on the third day.

            We’re told the disciples don’t understand what Jesus is talking about – that seems a little too convenient to me – and so they ignore the Lord and instead argue among themselves about which disciple is greatest.

            Later, when Jesus asks them what they were talking about on the way, they wisely remain silent.

            You’d think the disciples would have learned their lesson, but no.

            Today, we’re told that the sons of Zebedee, the brothers James and John, say to Jesus, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

            They’re getting off to a pretty bad start but Jesus plays along and says, “What is it you want me to do for you?”

            And then these brother disciples, part of Jesus’ inner circle, ask a question that shows that they still don’t get it.

            “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”

            Earlier the disciples had argued with each other who was the greatest here and now. This time, James and John set their sights higher angling for the top spots in the next life or when Jesus returns in glory.

            You’d think having traveled around with Jesus, having heard him teach, having heard him criticize the religious authorities for being concerned with prestige and image, you’d think that the disciples would have understood that this was not a good question.

            Yet, James and John, and all of the disciples lived in a society that was very concerned with status – with the pecking order, with one’s position in the community.

            So, since James and John now belonged to a new community - the Jesus community – naturally enough, they wanted to know where they stood and where they would stand.

            The other disciples are ticked off by James and John’s question – probably because they wanted the top spots themselves – so this provides Jesus with the opportunity, yet again, to teach about true greatness for those who follow Jesus.

            Jesus says, “...whoever wishes to become great among you must become your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

            And then Jesus offers himself as an example of this servant greatness. He says,  “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

            True greatness comes from serving others.

            It’s a lesson that the disciples don’t really begin to understand until Jesus’ Passion predictions come true.

            True greatness comes from serving others.

            It’s a lesson that the disciples don’t really begin to understand until Jesus, the Son of God, allows himself to be arrested, beaten and killed – allows this to happen so we can see what love and true greatness look like – allows this to happen to bring God and us back together again.

            True greatness comes from serving others.

            It’s a lesson that we seem to need to learn over and over again, too.

            It’s a lesson we seem to need to learn over and over again because the world offers a very different vision of greatness – a fake greatness that’s marked by piling up as much wealth, as much stuff, as possible – a fake greatness that looks at the poor and calls them losers rather than God’s beloved.

            Just like the first disciples we live in a society that’s very concerned with status, with the pecking order, with our position in the community.

            Fortunately, over and over, God sends us reminders that true greatness comes from serving others.

            There’s Pope Francis, shunning the trappings of his position, zipping around in his little car, breaking bread with the homeless.

            And, there are the truly great people here at St. Paul’s who preach some of the best sermons I ever get to see by always remembering to bring food for the poor, by sitting with people in coffee hour you might rather not sit with, by staying to clean the dishes, by calling those who are suffering, sometimes calling every day.

            You truly great people who preach some of the best sermons I ever get to see by working so hard not for yourselves but for your children and grandchildren, by denying yourselves pleasure and comfort so that you can give so much to your families, your communities, and yes, your church.

            And, most of all, there’s Jesus who stretched out his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross, showing us all that true greatness comes from serving others.

            It’s a lesson that James and John and the other first disciples needed to learn – a lesson that we need to learn – over and over again.

            Amen.

            

"All In"

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

October 11, 2015

Year B, Proper 23: The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Psalm 22:1-15

Hebrews 4:12-16

Mark 10:17-31

“All In”

            The rich young man in today’s gospel story seems to be doing everything right.

            He tells Jesus that he’s been keeping God’s commandments since he was a youth.

            He hasn’t murdered or committed adultery. He hasn’t stolen or lied or defrauded. He has honored his parents.

            The rich young man seems to have done everything right.

            And, yet. And, yet.

            And, yet, he senses that’s he’s not quite there yet.

            He has a sense that there’s more – there’s something more – that he must do to inherit eternal life.

            So, we’re told, he ran up and knelt before Jesus and asked, “Good Teacher, what more must I do to inherit life?’

            We’re told that Jesus looked at him lovingly. Jesus knows that he has kept all of the commandments. And, yet…

            Jesus looks at him lovingly and says, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

            Jesus knows all the good that this rich young man has done, and now asks him to go “all in” – to fully commit to God’s mission, to give it all away to build the kingdom of God.

            And… the rich young man just can’t do it.

            We’re told that he was “shocked” by Jesus’ words and went away grieving.

            I always wonder whatever happened to the rich young man after he couldn’t accept Jesus’ invitation to go “all in.” Did he just go back to living as he had been, doing all the right things but recognizing that he couldn’t fully commit. Or, did he give up completely and decide to live pretty much like everybody else?

            When he ran up to Jesus, the rich young man was at a tipping point. He was almost there…but, he chose to not go “all in.”

            Jesus invited the rich young man to go “all in” - and the rich young man…he just couldn’t do it.

            This is a powerful story. One that speaks to me and, I think, speaks especially powerfully – or should speak powerfully - to all of us here at St. Paul’s this year.

            Most of you have heard me go on and on about all of the good and exciting things happening here at St. Paul’s. We are doing a lot of things right.

            There’s the Craft Guild quietly knitting and crocheting over 50 little hats for a Rotary project that will distribute them to babies in need – and the Craft Guild has also making beautiful prayer shawls to be given to those who are sick and suffering.

            There’s the Stone Soup Community Supper, now regularly feeding over 40 people – neighbors, friends, strangers, parishioners - a delicious and healthy meal, bringing people together at the table, just like Jesus did – just like Jesus still does.

            There are our quiet weekday services, week in and week out reminding us of God’s presence in our lives not just on Sundays, offering prayers for the many people on our parish list, bathing this beautiful old room in prayers.

            There’s the group of parishioners who have stuck with our community organizing effort with thirty or so other congregations across the city, addressing public safety, education, recreation, and other issues that affect us, and our neighbors.

            It’s hard to remember now, but a couple of years ago there was no Minister of Music and no choir here at St. Paul’s but now you’re such a big part of church life.

            There are our longtime parishioners who have remained involved and committed and in some cases have taken on new ministries.

            There are our newer parishioners who have found a home here and have begun getting involved in parish life.

            From fewer than 50 a few years ago, we have grown into a church where now on an average Sunday more than 100 beautifully diverse people come to hear the Word of God, to pray, to exchange the Peace, to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, and to simply enjoy each other’s company.

            Just like the rich young man, we are doing so much right.           

            And, yet. And, yet.

            Like the rich young man, in today’s gospel lesson, there’s a sense that we’ve done many right things, but we’re not quite there yet.

            Like the rich young man, here at St. Paul’s, we’ve reached a tipping point.

            And now, just like he did with the rich young man, Jesus invites us to fully commit.            

            Jesus asks us to go “all in.”

            And, what would “all in” look like for us here at St. Paul’s?

            I’m speaking to you now not only as your priest, but as a former parishioner of St. Paul’s, as your brother in Christ, as someone who I hope you know loves you and loves this place very much.

            Many of you know that years ago some generous parishioners who also loved this place gave us a lot of money that was invested wisely, money that we usually just call the “endowment.”

            In many ways, it was a wonderful gift that allowed St. Paul’s to survive when other churches around us have closed – it’s that gift that allows me and all of us to be here.

            But, in another way, the endowment has been kind of a curse for St. Paul’s.

            Over time one of the main goals of our church seemed to be to preserve the endowment, to not do anything that would reduce the amount of money we had invested.

            Over time, there developed a sense that we – the current parishioners of St. Paul’s – really didn’t need to be “all in” because those very generous, but now dead, people had left us all that money.

            So, no matter how little we did, no matter how little we pledged, how little we gave, no matter if we gave the same amount year after year even though costs continued to rise, no matter how “little in” we were, the church would remain open on Sundays and be available for our funeral when we died.

            So, parishioners in the choir weren’t required to rehearse much because we had paid, professional singers who did the musical heavy-lifting for us.

            So, we didn’t have to do much ministry ourselves because we paid people to do that for us.

            We didn’t have much interest in church growth because we were just fine and comfortable as we were.

            Yet, all along, Jesus was calling us to more.

            And, over the past few years, we’ve begun to say yes to that invitation. Just look around. God has miraculously brought us all together. There is so much good going on here.

            And, now at the tipping point, now at the start of our stewardship campaign, Jesus invites us to go all in.

            “All in” means that we all – every one of us – commit ourselves to at least one ministry – and commit ourselves to doing our very best at it.

            Ministry is to pray for everyone on the prayer list every day.

            Ministry is to be an usher, here bright and early on a Sunday morning, welcoming people to God’s house.

            Ministry is “everybody’s favorite” - helping to clean up after coffee hour or Stone Soup or other events.

            Ministry is bringing at least one item for the food pantry every week.

            Ministry is helping to weed the garden, reading the lessons, serving as an acolyte.

            Ministry is being ready to greet newcomers, especially at coffee hour.

            Ministry is singing in the choir, which includes coming to rehearsal even when you’re tired or don’t feel like it because there are no more paid singers and we need you to do the musical heavy lifting for us.

            Ministry is teaching Sunday school or working with our amazing youth.

            And, yes, ministry is for each and every one of us, young and old, longtime and brand-new parishioners, everyone who considers this place a spiritual home, to make and actually give a sacrificial financial pledge, a pledge that hurts a bit, a pledge that’s more than what we gave this year, a weekly pledge that’s more than what we might spend on coffee during the week, more than what we might pay for an extra value meal at McDonald’s.

            “All in.”

            My brothers and sisters, the days of depending on the generosity of dead people are coming to an end.

            Look around. God has miraculously brought us all together. There is so much good going on here.

            We have reached the tipping point – we either move forward or we slide back to the way things were.

            So, Jesus looks lovingly at us and asks, “Are you all in?”

            As you know, a few weeks ago, I made a big, tough decision and chose to go all in here at St. Paul’s  - and I’m happy and excited.

            So, how about you?

            I’m now going to ask you a question and the correct answer is “Yes” with enthusiasm.

            Are we all in? Are we all in? Are we all in?

Unity

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

October 4, 2015

Year B, Proper 22: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Psalm 26

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

Mark 10:2-16

Unity

            In today’s gospel lesson we get to hear Jesus’ challenging and demanding teaching on marriage.

            And, maybe surprisingly for an institution that for a while there had seemed like it might be on its way out, marriage has become a hot button subject in our country.

            People are still adjusting to the new reality decreed by the Supreme Court just a couple of months ago, making marriage between members of the same sex legal in all 50 states.

            Not everyone, including, I know, not everyone here at St. Paul’s, is pleased by this development. And, one clerk in Kentucky managed to get a ton of media attention for her refusal to issue marriage licenses – or allow others to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples. She also landed some jail time and, apparently, a brief encounter with Pope Francis, delighting some and disappointing others.

            And, actually, I’ve been doing a lot of weddings lately including a beautiful wedding, despite the storm, yesterday right here at St. Paul’s.

            It was nice to see the church looking even more beautiful than usual, to see everybody all dressed up, so excited to witness Desiree and Emanuel make their vows to each other in the presence of God and the congregation.

            Desiree and Emanuel didn’t do this but lots of couples include the lighting of what’s called a “unity candle” as part of the marriage service.

            Have you seen this?

            Usually there’s one larger candle surrounded on either side by two smaller candles. The couple then draws light from the side candles to light the center candle, symbolizing that where there were once two, now there is one.

            Unity.

            I was reminded of the unity candle when I looked at today’s challenging and demanding gospel lesson.

            We’re told that the Pharisees want to test Jesus by asking him, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

            Now, this is an interesting and kind of surprising question for them to ask since, among first century Jews, the reality of divorce was taken for granted – was as much a fact of life - as it is today among us.

            The Pharisees would have known very well – and they would have known that Jesus knew very well – that the Book of Deuteronomy gives Jewish men permission to divorce their wives.

            The only debate among Jewish teachers in Jesus’ day was about the grounds of divorce. Under what circumstances – for what reasons – could a man divorce his wife?

            Some thought a man needed little excuse – it could be something as trivial as the wife preparing an unsatisfactory meal. While others thought that men required a more serious reason to break up a marriage.

            And, yes, in Jewish law it was only the man who could do the divorcing. But, actually, Roman law – and remember that Israel was under Roman control in the first century - allowed women to initiate divorce – a fact that we hear in Jesus’ private explanation to the disciples.

            So, the Pharisees knew, Jesus knew, everybody knew, that Moses, in the Book of Deuteronomy, allowed for divorce.

            So, it seems to me that the Pharisees must have heard that Jesus was going around teaching a harder, higher standard on the issue of divorce.

            And, sure enough, when the Pharisees ask him, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Jesus acknowledges the permission given in Deuteronomy – everybody knew that - but then dismisses this permission as something that was given because the people had hardness of heart.

            Instead, Jesus looks all the way back to the beginning, to Genesis, to the way things were always meant to be, before everything got messed up by us.

            In marriage, the two become one flesh.

            And Jesus quotes those famous words that we still say in the marriage service, that I said at yesterday’s wedding: “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

            Unity.

            Obviously this is a text that’s hard for a lot of us to hear – and it’s hard to preach about. Some of us are divorced or separated ourselves. Some of us have troubled marriages. All of us have been touched by divorce in our families and among our friends.

            And, I’m convinced that the God of love and mercy does not want people to stay in marriages that have become abusive or miserable – marriages that, for any number of reasons, should not have happened in the first place.

            And, I’m also convinced that, while God cares about marriage a lot, and while God cares a lot about our own marriages, God is most interested in unity.

            It’s no accident that Jesus looks back to the beginning of creation – back to the beginning – back to when there was no separation between God and us – back to when there were no divisions among us.

            Jesus looks back, reminds us of the time before things got broken and messed up.

            And, ever since, God has been hard at work putting the pieces back together again. Because of our hardened hearts, God gave us the law. Because of our refusal to obey, God gave the prophets.

            And, finally, in one grand effort at restoring unity, God gave us God’s Self, Jesus, who, as the author of the Letter to the Hebrews writes, “for a little while was made lower than the angels.”

            At its best, marriage can be a powerful symbol - a beautiful taste - of the unity between God and us, between Christ and the church.

            But, all of us, married, single, divorced, widowed, all of us are called to unite with one another and allow God to unite with us.

            All of us are called to let God work with us, in us, and through us, to put the pieces of the world back together again so that we may be one as Jesus and God the Father are one.

            And, as we were reminded once again last week with yet another mass shooting, this time at a community college in Oregon, we live in a world scarred by shocking violence, cruelty, and hardness of heart. We all know that have a long way to go before we achieve the unity that God wants, that God dreams, for us.

            Sometimes we get a taste of that unity in marriage.

            But, you know, we all get a taste of that unity here at St. Paul’s.

            You’ve heard me say this before: one of the things I love most about St. Paul’s is our amazing diversity and the fact that, for the most part, we all get along beautifully and lovingly.

            It’s like we each have our own little candle and we come together to light the giant and bright unity candle that is St. Paul’s.

            And, when we see the bright light of our unity candle we are privileged to get a glimpse of, to get a taste of, the unity that God so desires for us all, the unity that God desires for all creation.

            The unity that God has joined together and that no one may separate.

            God cares about marriage a lot, but God is most interested in unity.

            Amen.

            

Imperfect Disciples

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

September 27, 2015

Year B, Proper 21: The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

Imperfect Disciples

            By now most of you have heard me talk about how much I love weekday worship – and how proud and thankful I am that, thanks to a small but faithful band of worship leaders, we’ve managed to maintain our schedule of weekday services for more than two years now.

            I can’t prove this, but I really believe that all of that worship, all of those prayers echoing off of these old walls, bathing this room in prayer, have had a powerful spiritual effect on all of us here at St. Paul’s, even if we’ve never once come to church during the week.

            One of the reasons I love weekday worship is it gives me – gives us – a chance to learn about some of the great Christians of the past. Our church calendar is filled with what are called “Lesser Feasts,” days set aside to honor people, both famous and obscure, who used their talents and energy to share the Good News.

            And then there are the Major Feasts. On most of those days we honor people from the New Testament – members of Jesus’ own original band of disciples. For example, last week we celebrated the Feast of St. Matthew, the Apostle and Evangelist.

            I love learning about – and preaching about – these remarkable people.

            To be honest, sometimes I think there’s no way that you and I can really be like them, really give away our lives for Christ.

            But, then, other times, I’m reminded that just like us, these holy women and men were all too human.

            Like us, they were imperfect disciples.

            And, in our gospel lessons these past few weeks, we’ve been reminded just how imperfect Jesus’ closest disciples could be.

            Two weeks ago we heard the story of Jesus predicting his arrest, death and resurrection. You may remember that, out of love for his Lord and maybe some anxiety about his own fate and the fate of the other disciples, Peter “rebuked” Jesus, trying to convince Jesus to turn away from his mission, to avoid his terrible and holy fate.

            Imperfect disciples.

            And then last Sunday, we heard Jesus predict his arrest, death, and resurrection a second time.

            This time, disciples didn’t rebuke Jesus.

            No, instead, we’re told that they didn’t “understand” what Jesus was talking about – that sounds a little too convenient to me - so they quickly changed the subject, arguing among themselves about a very earthly, all too human subject: who among them was the greatest.

            Later, the disciples are understandably embarrassed when Jesus asks them what it was they were arguing about.

            Imperfect disciples.

            And now the imperfect disciples continue their streak in today’s gospel passage.

            The disciples report to Jesus that they saw someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name and they tried to stop him because he was not one of the twelve.

            Somehow, the imperfect disciples have gotten the idea that they have some kind of a monopoly on Jesus – that only they should be licensed to teach and heal in the name of Jesus.

            Jesus, of course, isn’t having any of it, telling the disciples that they should let others do deeds of power in his name.

            He goes even further, opens the door even wider, saying, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”

            We’re not told how the imperfect disciples respond to that. If they were smart, they just kept silent.

            The first disciples – the men and women who knew Jesus in the flesh, who walked with him, who heard his teaching, who witnessed his miracles – the holy women and men who we remember on our church calendar were imperfect disciples.

            And, of course, we’re imperfect disciples, too.

            We make mistakes. We fall short. We’re imperfect – more imperfect than we’d probably like to let on.

            And, obviously, that includes me, too.

            These last few days I’ve been even more aware of my imperfections than usual.

            As most of you know, about a month ago I accepted a position teaching Religion at St. Peter’s Prep, my alma mater.

            My reasoning was that I could both continue to serve as your rector and also teach full-time, that, in fact, teaching full-time would save the church enough money that I could, in fact, continue to serve here.

            I have to tell you that my new classes and colleagues have been great. I’ve really enjoyed being back in the classroom.

            There’s just one problem. In these first couple of weeks of classes I quickly realized that I can’t do both jobs. I just don’t have enough time or energy to teach and be parish priest. Or, at least, there’s not enough of me to do both of these jobs as well as they must be done.

            In my imperfection, I over-estimated my own abilities.

            So, I realized I had to make a quick, difficult, decision or I was going to do real damage either here or at school, or, most likely, both.

            On Monday, I met with the principal and told him that I had made a mistake and that I couldn’t continue teaching at Prep. He was disappointed (and in a flash I had created a headache for him and the school) but he understood and was very gracious.

            Friday was my last day at school.

            I have to tell you that this was one of the most difficult decisions of my life – and I’m really pretty sad about it – and I feel embarrassed that I made such a major miscalculation.

            Imperfect disciple.

            But, of course, I’m in good company – we’re in good company. Christian history and our church calendar are full of imperfect disciples.

            The good news is that God specializes in imperfect disciples, always reaching out to us, calling us back, strengthening us, nudging us in the direction of forgiveness and love.

            And, sure enough, this morning, yet again, God calls us back, reaches out to us, nudges us, strengthens us, in and through the baptism of Andrew.

            In just a few minutes, right here, right back there at the font, in and through the water of baptism, God will make an unbreakable bond with Andrew, this eight year-old boy who told me - and in a moment will tell all of us - that he wants to baptized.

            In and through the water of baptism, God will make an unbreakable, indissoluble, bond with Andrew.

            And, this is the best news ever because we know that Andrew, like all of us, will be an imperfect disciple.

            Like all of us he’ll do things he shouldn’t do – and won’t do things he should do.

            Like all of us, he won’t be as loving and forgiving as God calls to be.

            He’ll make mistakes that will create problems for others.

            But, no matter what, despite (or, maybe because of) all of his – and our – imperfections, God never, ever, lets go of us.

            So, today we imperfect disciples get to welcome yet another imperfect disciple – we get to welcome our young brother, Andrew – we get to welcome him to our imperfect band.

            Thanks be to God.

            Amen.

           

           

           

            

"Grant Us, Lord, Not to be Anxious About Earthly Things"

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

September 20, 2015

Year B, Proper 19: The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 31:10-31

Psalm 1

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a

Mark 9:30-37

“Grant Us, Lord, Not to be Anxious About Earthly Things”

            For a couple of reasons, I found the words of today’s opening prayer, today’s collect, especially meaningful:

            “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure…”

            “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things…”

            I’m sure this prayer was particularly meaningful to me – and maybe to you, too – because there sure is a lot of anxiety in the air these days, isn’t there?

            There’s a lot of anxiety in the world, particularly in Europe, as it faces wave after wave of refugees fleeing war and chaos especially in Syria, but also other parts of the Middle East and Africa.

            Life has gotten so horrible in those places that people are willing to leave behind everything and everyone they know and set off on a long and dangerous trek to countries where they know they will not exactly be welcomed with open arms.

            There’s anxiety in European countries, especially the smaller and poorer ones, about how they are supposed absorb thousands of new people – people unable to care for themselves – people with a very different culture, speaking different languages and practicing a different religion.

            The anxiety has gotten so great that, sure enough, fences are being built, borders are closing and shots are being fired.

            And, of course, there’s anxiety in our own country, too.

            There’s anxiety about our supposedly recovering economy – a recovery that many of us have yet to feel.

            There’s anxiety about our rapidly changing country – a country where white people are quickly becoming a minority. And, we hear that anxiety expressed these days in some of what passes as political discussion in our country – in the calls by some to build impossibly long walls, in the calls to deport impossibly large numbers of people, in the calls to “take back our country” – from whom is usually left unsaid, at least in public.

            This week we saw the anxiety flare up in Irvine, Texas when a 14 year-old boy, Ahmed Mohamed, created science project – a clock - to impress his new classmates, but because he’s a Muslim some of his school’s teachers and administrators were afraid it might be a bomb – and so they called the police and he was arrested.

            Maybe some of you saw the picture of him, handcuffed, and looking so frightened.

            Anxiety.

            And, then there’s the anxiety closer to home.

            I’ll admit to feeling a good bit of anxiety these days as I try to fit together serving as your rector and also full-time high school teaching. I’ve had some bad nights of sleep, tossing and turning, thinking anxiously if I’ve made a big mistake.

            And, I know that many of you have anxiety in your lives – anxieties about health, and employment, about children and grandchildren, and anxieties about whether you’ll be able to pay the rent, to pay the bills -or not.

            “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things…”

            And, actually, there’s a lot of anxiety in both last week’s and today’s gospel lessons.

            If you were here last week, you may remember that we heard Jesus predict what was going to happen to him – what’s called the first passion prediction in the Gospel of Mark.

            Remember, Jesus teaches the disciples that he “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.”

            Peter doesn’t like the sound of that one bit – we can imagine the anxiety he felt thinking about all of that terrible stuff happening to Jesus – his Messiah and his friend – and the anxiety he felt about what all of that meant for him and the other disciples.

            So, what does Peter do?

            He acts out and “rebukes” Jesus – a strong word – only to be rebuked by Jesus himself.

            “Get behind me, Satan!”

            And then in today’s gospel lesson, we heard Jesus once again predict what was going to happen to him – what’s called, you guessed it, the second Passion prediction in the Gospel of Mark.

            Jesus says that he “is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.”

            This time, though, the reaction of the disciples is different.

            Nobody rebukes him – or, really, pays him any mind.

            Instead, the disciples ignore him and change the subject, talking about a very earthly thing, arguing about who is the greatest among the disciples.

            As I’ve thought about these two incidents, I think they reflect the two main ways that many, or most, of us deal with anxiety.

            Sometimes, like Peter, we act out – maybe we rebuke somebody, or we try to build walls to separate us from the source of our anxiety, or, faced with a nerdy Muslim boy and a homemade clock, we arrest him first and ask questions later.

            Or, like the disciples, the other way we deal with anxiety is we ignore it – we quickly change the subject – we bury our anxieties deep in our gut where they boil and churn, waiting impatiently for an opportune moment to boil up again.

            The disciples used two methods to deal with the anxiety caused by Jesus’ predictions of his own suffering and death: acting out and trying to ignore it. And, of course, neither works very well at all.

            And, those two methods of dealing with anxiety don’t work very well for us, either.

            But, you know, if you read carefully last week’s gospel and this week’s gospel, you may notice that the disciples – and maybe we – missed something important, something central.

            Both times, Jesus predicts his suffering – and that’s something that nobody wants to face – something that would make anyone anxious.

            But, both times Jesus also predicts – or, even, promises - that on the third day he will rise again.

            Both times Jesus reassures his disciples, reassures his friends, that, yes, there will be suffering – and some of that suffering will be terrible indeed.

            But, both times, Jesus also predicts and promises that Easter Day will dawn, that light will cast away the darkness, that in the end God’s love will win.

            Ultimately, the problem with anxiety is that it blinds us to the good news that’s all around us, especially right here. Yes, bad things happen and suffering is real, but in the end, it’s Easter and love wins forever.

            And that’s why I tell people to come to church every Sunday.

            Week after week we come here with all of our anxieties – have I made a terrible mistake – what will the doctor tell me when I see her this week – will I find a job – will my kids be able to build a good life for themselves – will I find someone to love – we bring all of those anxieties and more.

            But rather than lashing out, we bring our anxieties here where every Sunday it’s Easter.

            Rather than trying to bury our anxieties deep in our gut, we bring them here where every Sunday we’re reminded that, yes, terrible things happen, but, in the end, love wins and endures forever.

            “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure…”

            Amen.

Jesus Our Brother

Grace Church Van Vorst, Jersey City NJ

Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

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

September 13, 2015

Year B, Proper 19: The 16th Sunday after Pentecost

Proverbs 1:20-33

Psalm 19

James 3:1-12

Mark 8:27-38

Jesus Our Brother

            I admit that when I first looked at today’s lessons I laughed out loud when I got to the opening verse from the Letter of James:

            “Not many of you should become teachers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For all of us make many mistakes”

            Well, that’s for sure!

            Many of you know that in addition to serving as rector at St. Paul’s I am now also teaching Religion at St. Peter’s Prep, my alma mater and where I taught (History) for seven years before heading off to seminary.

            I actually haven’t taught yet – the first day of classes is tomorrow. Instead, we’ve had two weeks of orientation and meetings during which sometimes I’ve felt excited and other times overwhelmed. And, sometimes I’ve wondered if James would put me in the category of the few who should teach or the much larger group of those who shouldn’t.

            No surprise, it’s kind of weird to be back at Prep now as an Episcopal priest though it has its advantages.

            For example, on Thursday the school had its Mass of the Holy Spirit, an annual ritual in all Jesuit schools.

            I have to tell you that it was great to just sit and pray and listen and say the responses but not have to think about choreography or what I’m supposed to say next.

            Near the end of the Mass, the celebrant referred to “Jesus our brother.”

            And that expression really struck me.

            Of course, I’ve heard it before and even said it myself sometimes, but not that often.

            I tend to go with “Jesus Christ our Lord and your Son,” which, of course, emphasizes Jesus’ divinity.

            But, Jesus our brother was a good reminder for me of Jesus the human being – a human being just like us but without sin.

            And, actually, we’ve encountered Jesus our brother in our gospel lessons both last Sunday and today.

            Last week, you may remember we heard the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman – this Gentile who comes to Jesus asking him to cast out an unclean spirit from her daughter.

            And, how does Jesus react?

            Well, maybe he was having a bad day or maybe he was uncomfortable being in a gentile land, or maybe he was unhappy that his privacy had been interrupted but, for whatever reason, at this moment Jesus comes as close to sin as he ever does in the gospels.

             Jesus spurns her, apparently referring to the woman and her daughter as “dogs.”

            The brave – or maybe just desperate – woman goes back at Jesus, who has a change of heart and chooses to heal the daughter.

            And then today we have a lot going on in today’s gospel lesson.

            Jesus asks his famous question, “Who do people say that I am?”

            And then the follow-up to the discuiples, “But, who do you say that I am?”

            And, of all people, it’s Peter who gets the right answer!

            “You are the Messiah.”

            I can almost imagine Peter glowing like a freshman on the first day of school who gets an answer right in class.

            But, Peter doesn’t get to enjoy that glow of satisfaction for long because, as we heard, he gets understandably gets upset when Jesus predicts the suffering that awaits him.

            We’re told that Peter “rebukes” Jesus – a strong word, indeed!

            And then in another of the most striking moments in the gospel, Jesus does some pretty harsh rebuking of his own - Jesus really lets Peter have it:

            “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but human things.”

            At first glance, this does seem very harsh, doesn’t it?

            After all, Peter is understandably shocked at what Jesus has said. He loves Jesus and he’s determined that he’ll do whatever he can to prevent his friend – his Lord – the Messiah from suffering.

            Though, of course, we know that there’s irony here since we know that when the moment of testing comes, Peter will deny even knowing Jesus – deny him three times.

            But, still, why the harshness from our brother Jesus?

            It seems to me that Jesus is angry at Peter because in this moment Peter really is Satan – really is the tempter – tempting Jesus to turn away from the bloody fate that awaits him.

            Jesus is sorely tempted.

            Which may sound strange to us since I think many of us often think that Jesus had his forty days and nights of temptation in the wilderness, and that was that – that somehow for the rest of his life and ministry Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Lord, was free of temptation, walking in a straight line to the cross.

            Not so, of course.

            Jesus our brother was tempted right to the end.

            One of my favorite books is of The Last Temptation Christ. Have any of you read it?

            Anyway, in the novel Jesus is tempted even as he hangs on the cross – tempted to turn away from this painful and shameful death – tempted to live like an ordinary person – to have a wife, to have children, to have a little carpentry business - to live a nice, quiet life.

            That’s not in the gospels, of course, but I’d be willing to bet that Jesus our brother experienced that kind of temptation.

            I won’t spoil the ending for those who haven’t read it.

            So, what does all of this mean for us?

            Well, as the author of the Letter of James reminded us, we all make many mistakes.

             I’m going to guess that pretty much everybody here has one time or another been impatient with somebody asking us for help.

            Maybe it’s someone we don’t really like – maybe because of his personality, or her nationality or religion, or maybe just the tone of his voice. Or, maybe it’s someone who is constantly asking for help and we’re just plain tired of it – compassion fatigue.

            Well, thanks to Jesus our brother, we know that God really knows what that’s like.

            And, I’m going to guess that all of us know the power of temptation – probably only too well.

            Well, thanks to Jesus our brother, we know that God really knows what it’s like to be sorely tempted.

            So, when we make our many mistakes – when we turn away the person asking for help – when we slip and give into temptation – we know that God gets it – and God is quick to show mercy – and, if we’re open to it, God is quick to give us the grace we need so that the next time we’re more likely to say yes to the person who needs our help and more likely to resist at least some of the temptations we face every day.

            We know all of this – and so much more - thanks to Jesus our brother.

            Amen.