That We All May Be One

1 Be gracious to me, O God, for people trample on me;
all day long foes oppress me;
2 my enemies trample on me all day long,
for many fight against me.
O Most High, 3 when I am afraid,
I put my trust in you.
4 In God, whose word I praise,
in God I trust; I am not afraid;
what can flesh do to me?
5 All day long they seek to injure my cause;
all their thoughts are against me for evil.
6 They stir up strife, they lurk,
they watch my steps.
As they hoped to have my life,
7 so repay[a] them for their crime;
in wrath cast down the peoples, O God!
8 You have kept count of my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your record?
9 Then my enemies will retreat
in the day when I call.
This I know, that[b] God is for me.
10 In God, whose word I praise,
in the Lord, whose word I praise,
11 in God I trust; I am not afraid.
What can a mere mortal do to me?
12 My vows to you I must perform, O God;
I will render thank offerings to you.
13 For you have delivered my soul from death,
and my feet from falling,
so that I may walk before God
in the light of life.

Psalm 56 (NRSV)

“I looked on the earth, and lo; it was waste and void; and to the heavens, and they had no light. I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking, and all the hills moved to and fro. I looked, and lo, there was no one at all, and all the birds of the air had fled. I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert, and all its cities were laid in ruins…” (Jeremiah 4:23-26b)

“I don’t suppose any of us who were alive on that day will ever forget the morning of September 11, 2001, fifteen years ago today. I was living in New York City, serving as ecumenical officer for The Episcopal Church. A number of us were in the Chapel of Christ the Lord at the Church Center for Daily Morning Prayer. Someone burst through the door and said, ‘A plane just hit the World Trade Center!’

We finished our prayers and took the elevators back to a small break room on our floor where there was a TV. Initially, we assumed like everyone else that this was some tragic accident or perhaps some misguided soul committing suicide in a dramatic way. As the morning unfolded and we watched, with the whole world, the awful events of that day, the cold grip of fear entered our hearts as we realized that we were a nation under attack – from whom, we knew not.

My initial concern was for (my wife) Susanne, who was staying at General Seminary and attending a meeting of deacons. The phones wouldn’t work and it took some time finally to make contact, to know that she was safe, and that they too were watching the events from the seminary which was actually closer to what later became known as “Ground Zero” than I was. All morning long, we watched not only the television, but from our eighth floor windows looked down on lines of people, some still covered with ash, walking in a dazed fashion north and away from the charred ruins of what had been The Twin Towers. There was an eerie silence in the city.

The next days were chaotic for New Yorkers, citizens of the United States, and around the world really.  Of course, all flights were cancelled in and out of New York, Washington, and elsewhere, and our first thoughts were how to get Susanne home. We finally secured tickets for her on an Amtrak train back to the Midwest, and when I took her to Penn Station, it looked like a railroad scene out of an old World War II movie.  Everyone was milling around, looking for family and friends, and trying to get out of New York. We got her onboard and she arrived home two days later.

The Bishop for the Armed Forces and Federal Chaplaincies, George Packard, had put a sign- up sheet up at the Church Center for clergy willing to serve as volunteer chaplains for rescue workers, first responders and others, and I believe I was one of the first to sign up.  It took days … to get all that organized though and the effort would last for many, many months.

As not only, ecumenical but interfaith officer, I began getting calls for educational material about Islam once the “jihadist” word began to spread.  Clergy and lay leaders wanted to help their people understand that, if these were indeed Muslim terrorists, they did not represent mainstream Islam and that Muslims were not our enemies. Even President George W. Bush made that clear in the early days.

We had almost no material on Islam as most of our interfaith dialogue had been with the Jewish community to this point; very little with Muslims at least on the national level.  Eventually, Episcopal Relief and Development provided an educational grant to my office and we were able to hire a Christian scholar of Islam, Lucinda Mosher, and she worked hard to get out educational material, develop a web site, and did a good bit of teaching around the Episcopal Church herself as the months and even years wore on.” (From With Gladness and Singleness of Heart by Christopher Epting)

Our nation made many mistakes in the wake of 9/11. But we did some things right as well. The Episcopal Church responded sacrificially right at Ground Zero. St. Paul’s, a chapel of Trinity Church, Wall Street, was somehow spared serious damage and was immediately opened as a respite center for first responders, medical personnel, and later construction workers. It was in that little church that Susanne and I, along with many others, counseled and prayed with those who were seeking to facilitate the recovery effort at what became known as “the Pile.”

Food and water, fresh socks and clothing were distributed. And, “George Washington’s pew,” a famous tourist attraction at St. Paul’s Chapel, became the location for massages and foot treatments to be given to any worker who asked for it. I always thought our first President – himself a kind of “first responder” — would probably have been pleased! We celebrated the Eucharist at noon every day there as well, praying for those who came…and for those who couldn’t.

I was proud of our church as well – and other churches and faith communities – when we tried to make it clear that whatever response the United States might make was not a “war on Islam,” but an attempt to bring the terrorists who had caused this horrific attack to justice.

Jeremiah said, in our First Lesson this morning, “I looked on the earth, and lo; it was waste and void; and to the heavens, and they had no light. I looked on the mountains, and lo, they were quaking, and all the hills moved to and fro. I looked, and lo, there was no one at all, and all the birds of the air had fled. I looked, and lo, the fruitful land was a desert, and all its cities were laid in ruins…” A perfect description of what 9/11 looked like! But Jeremiah didn’t end it there. The “weeping prophet” speaks the Word of the Lord as saying, “The whole land shall be a desolation; yet I will not make a full end.” (4:27)

We still don’t understand all the complexities that led to something like 9/11 happening. Still less do we understand why earthquakes in Italy, floods in Louisiana, and wild fires out West take place. What we do know is that God’s grace and healing touch can take place, precisely through the compassion and heroism of those who seek to respond in the Name of God.

Particularly as Christians, we know that the way of the cross is the way of life. When our Presiding Bishop, then Frank Griswold, walked into the smoke filled Chapel of St. Paul on the day after 9/11, he saw a small crucifix on the high Altar. And he said, “It was as though those tiny arms of Jesus were opening out to the whole world, embracing all the pain, and offering his love in return.” That’s what it means for the way of the cross to be the way of life.

There is a prayer in our Prayer Book office of Morning Prayer that Bishop Griswold was probably thinking of that day. It’s for use on Fridays…but perhaps an appropriate way to end these reflections on the 15^th anniversary of September 11, 2001. Let us pray: “Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name.” Amen.

Whenever we observe the Labor Day weekend, I make a kind of strange connection. And I think of a priest and monk named James Huntington. Fr. Huntington was the founder of the Order of the Holy Cross, the first permanent, Episcopal, monastic community for men here in the United States. I’ve been an Associate of Holy Cross for over 30 years and used to make my retreat regularly at their mother house in West Park, NY while I was serving at our Episcopal Church Center.

Holy Cross has always been a community committed to active ministry rooted in the spiritual life. They take seriously the admonition like this one: “…be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” (James 1:22) Last Sunday’s Collect sets out the process for the Christian life – for monastics like the brothers of Holy Cross, but also for everyday Christians like you and me:

“Lord of all power and might, the author and give of all good things: Graft in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; nourish with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works…”

See the pattern? First, the love of God must be grafted (implanted) in our hearts. Then we begin by practicing the disciplines of our religion (increase in us true religion); as we live that life we begin to experience the goodness of God; and then finally, God begins to bring forth from within us “the fruit of good works.” We start being doers of the word…and not hearers only.

That’s exactly the path James Huntington followed. He experienced what he believed to be a call to the religious life in the early 1880s while attending a retreat at St. Clement’s Episcopal Church in Philadelphia. Then he, and two other priests, began to test that vocation by living a common life at Holy Cross Mission on New York’s Lower East Side, working with poor people and the immigrant population there.

That challenging ministry, especially working with immigrants and young people, drew Huntington to the social witness of the Church and he became increasingly involved with the single-tax movement, with the fledgling Labor Movement, and really led the way for The Episcopal Church to become increasingly committed to what became known as the “social gospel.”

This was an early 20^th century movement which applied Christian ethics to social problems, especially issues of social justice such as wealth perceived of as excessive, poverty, alcoholism, crime, racial tensions, child labor, and inadequate labor unions. The leaders – some of whom overlapped with Huntington – were people like Richard Ely, Washington Gladden, and especially Walter Rauschenbusch.

This movement was not without its critics, even at the time, in The Episcopal Church and the wider Christian community, but it sowed the seeds of our increasing involvement in issues of justice and peace and the realization – arising again in our day in the so-called “emergent church”– that “Jesus did not come to found a church; he came to announce God’s Kingdom!” That the Reign of God begins now! And we need to work to build a society that reflects those values.

What does all this have to do with Labor Day? Well, of course, Labor Day – as a commemoration on the first Monday in September — was a creation of the labor movement and was dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers and to the contributions they have made to the strength, prosperity and well-being of our country. It began to be celebrated in the early 1880s (just about the same time as James Huntington experienced his call to the religious life!)

There is some debate about who originally proposed the Labor Day observance, but records seem to indicate that it was Peter McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a cofounder of the American Federation of Labor, first suggested the day to honor those “who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold” (History of Labor Day, from the DOL)

Of course, no one can deny today that the labor movement itself has been fraught with its own internal problems, but the ideals of its founders, as well as the commitment of people like James Huntington over the last century reflect Gospel values and are well worth celebrating. Perhaps our Collect for Labor Day in the Book of Common Prayer puts it best, in a spiritual context:

“Almighty God, you have so linked our lives with one another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives: So guide us in the work we do, that we may do it not for self alone, but for the common good; and, as we seek a proper return for our own labor, make us mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers, and arouse our concern for those who are out of work; through Jesus Christ our Lord…” (BCP 261)

While the unemployment rate still way too high in the sure – but oh so slow – economic recovery we are in the midst of, I hope we will redouble our efforts in this country and around the world to see to it that our people have adequate and meaningful work to do. It’s part of being a human being! And the Collect has it about right…

We are so intertwined with each other in this world that everything we do affects all other lives. What we do for good and what we do for ill — affects others. So let’s remember not to just look out for number one, but to realize that we are all in this together. And, as we expect to be paid a living wage ourselves, let’s see to it that others are paid fairly for the work they do. Most of all, let’s remember those who, this day, are out of work. Very few of them want to be. And everyone deserves a chance for meaningful employment.

So, enjoy your Labor Day. But don’t forget where it came from, and what its ideals are. For if we are to become “doers of the word and not hearers only,” we need to follow James Huntington’s example and let God’s name be grafted in our hearts…to put our religion into practice…and to be nourished by the goodness and grace of God…so that we may bear good fruit — the fruit of good WORK !

Donald Trump: “There will be no amnesty.”

“Anyone who is in the United States illegally is subject to deportation.”

“It’s our right as a sovereign nation to choose immigrants that we think are                                the likeliest to thrive and flourish and love us.”

(August 31, 2016 speech on immigration)

God:                       You shall divide (the land) by lot for an inheritance among yourselves and                                 among the aliens who stay in your midst, who bring forth sons in your                                       midst. And they shall be to you as native-born among the sons of Israel;                                     they shall be allotted an inheritance with you among the tribes of Israel.

(Ezekiel 47:22)

Choose this day whom you will serve!

The smiling visage of Mother Teresa of Calcutta graces the cover of the most recent edition of the Jesuit magazine, America, to which I subscribe and take pleasure in reading every month. In this edition James Martin interviews Brian Kolodiejchuk who is a Canadian member of the Missionaries of Charity and was the official “postulator” for the canonization of Teresa which is scheduled for next month of the 4th of September.

Brian has also written a number of articles and books on Teresa so I ordered one entitled Come Be My Light which is a compilation of the private writings of this contemporary saint, as controversial as she has become since her death. There are some legitimate reasons to question some of the rather primitive methods and even motives she used in treating and ministering to “the poorest of the poor” even when her Order had received more than enough financial support to do things differently, and perhaps better.

Room to wonder about whether or not she glorified poverty for poverty’s own sake in the lives of those for whom she cared and had no choice about their poverty and not just in her own life and the life of her Sisters which was voluntarily chosen. But one thing which has caused consternation in the minds of many of her followers and which is clearly revealed in her letters is the deep darkness which plagued her for many years and the nearly absent sense of the presence of God throughout most of her active ministry.

So many today throw about the term “dark night of the soul” to describe periods of doubt and spiritual dryness we all go through from time to time. But experienced spiritual directors recognize that this is a trivialization of the phase (made famous by St. John of the Cross).

Rather than seeing such an experience of darkness as something to be “fixed” or lived through, we need to recognize that this may be the final stage of growth in holiness when physical, mental, or even spiritual “consolations” (experiences of the Divine) seem withdrawn but are actually no longer necessary because the one growing in holiness is virtually in the Presence of God all the time with no need for “reminders” or “glimpses” of the Holy One which the rest of us need simply to carry on.

This is not to minimize the pain that this darkness can cause for those who experience it. Often, they long for the “simpler” times in which they seemed to experience God more closely and predictably. But those, like Mother Teresa, who persevere in their spiritual disciplines and in carrying out their active ministries, even with no such consolations, are models for us all to “keep on keeping on” even when the life of faith becomes rough.

Far from disqualifying her for sainthood, the Roman Catholic Church has recognized that the anguish expressed in her letters and other private writings to spiritual directors and confessors was simply testimony to how closely she walked with Jesus who himself knew desolation and darkness even on the day of his death. “My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?”

Few have understood that cry better than the one who will soon be known as “Saint Teresa of Calcutta.”

Well, he’s 95 so I expect some slowing of speech and forgetfulness and repeating things I’ve heard many, many times before is to be expected. He is actually amazing, living independently although in a retirement center near our adopted hometown of Daytona Beach. Up until a recent fall, he was still driving and he still hasn’t given up hope of regaining that privilege once the fractured hip heals.

Like so many fathers and sons, we had a complicated relationship over the years. The “greatest generation,” at least the men, just never quite learned how to show affection to their sons. And I’m not sure the World War II B-24 bomber pilot ever quite forgave his son for opposing, and opting out of, the Viet Nam war. (Although he categorizes all war as “stupid” these days!).

He’s become much more demonstrative in his old age. Hugs and even the occasional kiss are becoming easier for him and it’s good to hear “I love you” even though it took a lot of years to get there. He misses his beloved “Maggie” desperately and frequently says that no one should live to his ripe old age. “Twenty years to grow up and get educated; twenty years to climb to the top of your ability professionally; twenty years to enjoy it; twenty years of retirement. That should be it! Die at 80. Eighty-five tops!”

I tend to agree with him (after all, the Psalmist says “Three score years and ten; perhaps in strength even eighty”) but as I often remind him: It’s not up to us. Of course, I hope he won’t linger for too long once those amazing powers of determination and grit start to fade away. But, I must say, the last decade or so has brought some much-needed tenderness to a relationship which lacked that for too many years.

It was good for us to be here for his birthday. Don’t know how many more there’ll be (though I’m pretty sure there will be some). I’m thankful for all that he gave me. And, whether he fully appreciates it or not — he’s still giving.