In the past week Philadelphia got a lot of religion. That that religion was baseball hasn’t done much to advance the kingdom of God, but it has been impressive to watch, and sometimes to be a part of.
On Wednesday night, I was surprised to find myself watching the final innings of Game 5 in the World Series. I am a fair-weather baseball fan, at best (although I did predict from this pulpit two weeks ago that the Phillies would win the Series in five games!) I was even more surprised to find myself out on the street, when I took Baxter out for his last walk of the day, being drawn toward Broad Street, where we found an elated, hi-fiving, red-capped throng had taken over the streets.
What was I doing there? I have no idea. But what were any of us doing there? There was nothing to see and nothing to do but come together and cheer. There was no one even there to cheer for! But it didn’t matter There was no place to go and nothing to do, but somehow everyone knew where to go and what to do. While it’s true that some damage was done later in the night, when you consider how many people filled the streets (and how drunk some of them were) it was an amazingly happy, good-natured, spontaneous expression of joy. I can honestly tell you I have never seen or felt anything like it in my life.
And the raucous throng that I was part of on Wednesday night was reconstituted and enlarged on Friday afternoon, when the Phillies came in triumphal parade through the city. Hordes of people had been filing into the city all morning. Folks around here were inevitably heading toward Broad Street. The fair weather having continued, I still considered myself a fan, so I too headed into the streets with Baxter.
As we headed up Locust Street, across 15th, we could just see the tail end of the parade: a trailer on which someone was holding aloft the Commissioner’s Trophy. Around me people figured out that the parade had stalled briefly and we had missed most of it. But we also realized that we could head south on 15th Street and try to catch up too see the team we had come to cheer.
And so we did. People were running down 15th Street to catch up to the parade, to see those pin-striped heroes of the baseball diamond. As we passed Spruce Street and looked to our left, we could see again, the tail end of the parade, but it had stopped again. So we sped up – we all sped up! We raced down to Pine and turned left, and as we did, we saw a horse-drawn carriage, and a bulldog sitting up there on the carriage: Pat Burrell’s bulldog, Elvis – he lives around the corner from us, so Pat must have been up there too!
And then came the truck with the Philly Phantatic, and the team members and their families, and a few more buses with unidentifiable people from the Phillies organization. And the trophy again! And we cheered and cheered and cheered! It didn’t matter that we didn’t know exactly who was who (except for the bulldog). We knew who they were, and why we were there. We cheered for these heroes who somehow made us all feel good about ourselves and the world.
Now baseball analogies in American culture are often trite – all the more so in church. I ought to know, I used one at the center of my sermon two weeks ago. But today it’s not so much a baseball analogy I want to ask you to consider, though it may have sounded that way up till now.
For today the church invites us to a parade of heroes. Our procession around the church singing “For all the saints” is a kind of ultra-dignified version of the Phillies parade. If only we could imagine the raw enthusiasm this city showed for its baseball team directed at the saints whose lives have built up the kingdom of God. If only we could muster some of it ourselves.
If only we could look up at what Bruce Nichols so beautifully described last week as these thickly populated stained glass windows and see people whose stories we recognized – or at least their dogs!
If only we could run breathlessly to try to catch up with the saints: those who gave their lives for their Lord, or who lived them so spectacularly or prayerfully or thoughtfully or with such reckless generosity.
If only their promised arrival on our street would bring us out to cheer, to claim a part of their victory as our own, and to project our own best hopes for our own lives onto them.
Back on Broad Street throughout the day, most of the time there was no team to cheer, no Philly Phanatic, no Pat Burrell or his bulldog; there was only the crowd. And remarkably, beautifully really, the people gathered here in that vast crowd just cheered for one another, smiled at one another, hi-fived one another. The slightest patch of red on your clothes was taken as a clear indication of your total commitment to the cause. Your mere presence on the street was proof of your citizenship in the Phillies nation. And if the parade of heroes could only pass by for so long then we would see heroes in one another, at least for an hour or two.
And can’t we share that outlook in our commemoration of all the saints? If we tire of chasing the saints up there in the windows, or if we are convinced that they have passed us by, or if we simply never could tell who they were anyway from this distance, cant we see saints in each other? Can’t we project our own best hopes for our lives - that were projected onto these windows in vivid color – onto one another? Can’t we give each other the benefit of the doubt that we are committed to the cause – even without having to display a uniform of certain color? Can’t we accept each other’s mere presence in church as proof of citizenship in the Christian family?
Long after the euphoria of the Phillies championship has worn off, there will still be the saints to catch up to, to run after breathlessly, to admire for no other reason, perhaps, than that they can handle it when we project our own best hopes for ourselves onto them. And there may be saints who we recognize because they lived just around the corner from us, or because we recognize their dogs.
Or there may be saints who have not passed us by with the parade, but who are right here next to us, raising their voices in song with us, passing the sign of peace with us (a low-five, if you will), looking us in the eye, as we look at them, and cheer each other on with the unspoken hope that, by God, we mean to be saints too!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
All Saints’ Sunday, 2 November 2008
Saint Mark’s, Philadelphia
1929
The Pharisees sent their disciples to Jesus to ask, “Teacher, is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” (Matt 22:17)
This being a political season, I wonder if the time has come for me to preach to you about the relative virtues or vices of taxation. The question, after all, has recently been raised in a public forum, I seem to think.
This being a time of economic turmoil, I wonder if the time has come to add my voice to the chorus of what passes for wisdom about the crisis we are in and what to do about it?
The Gospel reading today seems to be inviting me to weigh in on these matters. But I’m not so sure that any of you also wish to extend such an invitation. There is wisdom to be found among the people of God!
Instead, I will meander, a bit, as I often do on foot, around this neighborhood. And not long ago as I was meandering, I was walking by the Drake: the wonderful building that you can see when you walk out of the doors of this church, its grand cupola claiming a prominent space in the sky. I have friends who used to live in a penthouse apartment there, just a floor or two below that cupola. I loved to visit them and to sit on their big terrace looking out over the whole of the western view of the city. Walk by the Drake, and you may be surprised to notice, as I was, that it was built in 1929 – a bit of a rough year, I’d think, for a luxury hotel (which is what it was built to be). Walk down Locust Street to the east of here, just to the end of our block, and see that the Lanesborough – built to be the University Club of Philadelphia – was also built in 1929.
Of course it was in 1929, 79 years ago this month, that the New York Stock Exchange took its great plunge. The Dow having peaked at a dizzying 381 points on September 23, it crashed almost 12% to 230 points on October 29, 1929. (Those were the days!)
They had been the days – certainly in Philadelphia, and certainly for the banks here. The wonderful, modernist PSFS building was also built in 1929 by the oldest bank in America: The Pennsylvania Savings Fund Society. The Philadelphia Trust building (where Wachovia is, or was), was built a couple of years earlier in 1927. The PNB building, which still supports the world’s largest ringing bell, was built on Broad Street in 1930. By 1929, 30th Street Station was under construction. And the Ayer Building was completed in 1929 on Washington Square – home to the nation’s oldest advertising agency.
Here at Saint Mark’s in 1929 the parish busied itself with moving its second mission church, Saint Michael’s, from 19th and Lombard in Center City out to Yeadon in Delaware County.
Of course, Prohibition was in effect in 1929, so I guess people had to keep busy somehow. Olympic rower Jack Kelly was busy that year here in Philadelphia with his new-born daughter Grace.
It was, as I say, quite a time in Philadelphia.
And on October 12, 1929, just two weeks before the Stock Market crash, The Philadelphia Athletics scored ten runs in a single inning of Game 4 of the World Series against the Chicago Cubs, winning the game by two runs, and solidifying their lead in the series at three games to one – a series they would go on to win in the next game, played in Shibe Park, here in Philadelphia.
How quickly, I wonder, did the euphoria of the World Series win evaporate with the crash of the market? How empty, I wonder, were the offices in all those bank buildings during the Great Depression, with its stifled credit market? How different, I wonder, are the times today? I wonder.
And I don’t know quite how to react to Warren Buffett’s recent Op-Ed piece in the New York Times in which he shares a simple guiding principle: “Be fearful when others are greedy, and be greedy when others are fearful.” That doesn’t sound much like the Gospel to me!
Except of course that it’s a perspective that counts on the reversal of fortunes. And the Gospel is almost always about the reversal of fortunes. From the moment Mary hears the unusual message from Gabriel this truth becomes clear to her: that her fortunes and the fortunes of the world will be reversed, somehow, by this Good News being announced to her. The humble poor will be raised up, and the arrogant rich will be cast down. The Gospel always sounds better to the poor (something we might keep in mind from time to time!)
Jesus, of course, knows this. The sage from Nazareth even knows more than the sage from Omaha! And notice how un-concerned is our sage from Nazareth with the question of taxes. He will not be taken in with this “gotcha” question! Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s; what do I care about that? But will you even give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
Will we give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
In the church, of course, we don’t have taxes. The primary reason for this is because we all figure out what we have to pay in taxes, but the question in church is how much we feel called to give. This church stands as a testament to the marvelous grace that men and women have felt called to give to the church with great generosity no matter how much they have had to pay in taxes.
And now we are in a difficult time. And how can we give a thought to giving to God the things that area God’s? What claim to does God have on your hard-earned dollars? What right has Saint Mark’s to collect them on God’s behalf? Especially now?!? What if it’s just like 1929 all over again?
If it was just like 1929, what could I say to convince you that God has a claim to your money and to mine? How could I persuade you that Saint Mark’s is the place that deserves the gifts you are called to give back to God… when it’s really a question of deciding whether or not you believe in the Gospel that brings a reversal of fortunes? Because, while it isn’t true for all of us, very few of us are ever in danger of giving too much to God – myself included. And the Gospel has always sounded dearer to those who are willing to give more of what they have away.
Christians have long held to an axiom that is more profound than Warren Buffett’s investment advice. It might go something like this: Be hopeful when others are fearful, and when others are hopeful, rejoice that your hope has been compounded!
What if it’s just like 1929 all over again? If it is, then a little girl has been born who will grow up to be a princess, and the most beautiful woman in the world. (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
Whether or not the economic situation today is really similar to that of 1929, there is certainly enough anxiety around to make a lot of people fearful. But all we have to do is walk around this neighborhood to remember that the world did not actually come to a screeching halt in 1929. And if the buildings that were built that year were more empty than full for a while, their fortunes have been reversed – and many of them are now luxury condos. And do we really think that God has less in store for his people than he does for a bunch of buildings? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
And in the seventh inning of Game 4 of the World Series of 1929, the A’s (who were down, 8 – 0) pulled off a reversal of fortunes that’s been called one of the greatest comebacks in sports history. Do we really think that God has less in store for us than he did for a baseball team? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
And although the A’s moved away long ago, if it’s just like 1929 no wonder the Phillies are headed to the World Series – and I’m just saying don’t be surprised if they win it in Game 5! And do we really think that God has less in store for us than he does for the Phillies? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
2008, like 1929, is quite a year. There is cause for some measure of anxiety, it has to be said. And amidst this anxiety, will we give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s? Or will we just argue about taxes, and fixate absurdly on what a plumber in Ohio might have to pay?
I suppose that depends a lot on whether or not we truly believe that we are called to be hopeful when others are fearful.
And during these next couple of weeks, as we hear more and more from the campaign trail that sounds like the loaded question from the Pharisees – Is it good to pay taxes or not? – Let us remember that Jesus found practically nothing to discuss on the topic.
Because he had a more difficult question to ask, no matter what year it is: Will you give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
Put it another way: Will we be hopeful when others are fearful?
Good question.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
19 October 2008
Saint Mark’s Church, Philadelphia
This being a political season, I wonder if the time has come for me to preach to you about the relative virtues or vices of taxation. The question, after all, has recently been raised in a public forum, I seem to think.
This being a time of economic turmoil, I wonder if the time has come to add my voice to the chorus of what passes for wisdom about the crisis we are in and what to do about it?
The Gospel reading today seems to be inviting me to weigh in on these matters. But I’m not so sure that any of you also wish to extend such an invitation. There is wisdom to be found among the people of God!
Instead, I will meander, a bit, as I often do on foot, around this neighborhood. And not long ago as I was meandering, I was walking by the Drake: the wonderful building that you can see when you walk out of the doors of this church, its grand cupola claiming a prominent space in the sky. I have friends who used to live in a penthouse apartment there, just a floor or two below that cupola. I loved to visit them and to sit on their big terrace looking out over the whole of the western view of the city. Walk by the Drake, and you may be surprised to notice, as I was, that it was built in 1929 – a bit of a rough year, I’d think, for a luxury hotel (which is what it was built to be). Walk down Locust Street to the east of here, just to the end of our block, and see that the Lanesborough – built to be the University Club of Philadelphia – was also built in 1929.
Of course it was in 1929, 79 years ago this month, that the New York Stock Exchange took its great plunge. The Dow having peaked at a dizzying 381 points on September 23, it crashed almost 12% to 230 points on October 29, 1929. (Those were the days!)
They had been the days – certainly in Philadelphia, and certainly for the banks here. The wonderful, modernist PSFS building was also built in 1929 by the oldest bank in America: The Pennsylvania Savings Fund Society. The Philadelphia Trust building (where Wachovia is, or was), was built a couple of years earlier in 1927. The PNB building, which still supports the world’s largest ringing bell, was built on Broad Street in 1930. By 1929, 30th Street Station was under construction. And the Ayer Building was completed in 1929 on Washington Square – home to the nation’s oldest advertising agency.
Here at Saint Mark’s in 1929 the parish busied itself with moving its second mission church, Saint Michael’s, from 19th and Lombard in Center City out to Yeadon in Delaware County.
Of course, Prohibition was in effect in 1929, so I guess people had to keep busy somehow. Olympic rower Jack Kelly was busy that year here in Philadelphia with his new-born daughter Grace.
It was, as I say, quite a time in Philadelphia.
And on October 12, 1929, just two weeks before the Stock Market crash, The Philadelphia Athletics scored ten runs in a single inning of Game 4 of the World Series against the Chicago Cubs, winning the game by two runs, and solidifying their lead in the series at three games to one – a series they would go on to win in the next game, played in Shibe Park, here in Philadelphia.
How quickly, I wonder, did the euphoria of the World Series win evaporate with the crash of the market? How empty, I wonder, were the offices in all those bank buildings during the Great Depression, with its stifled credit market? How different, I wonder, are the times today? I wonder.
And I don’t know quite how to react to Warren Buffett’s recent Op-Ed piece in the New York Times in which he shares a simple guiding principle: “Be fearful when others are greedy, and be greedy when others are fearful.” That doesn’t sound much like the Gospel to me!
Except of course that it’s a perspective that counts on the reversal of fortunes. And the Gospel is almost always about the reversal of fortunes. From the moment Mary hears the unusual message from Gabriel this truth becomes clear to her: that her fortunes and the fortunes of the world will be reversed, somehow, by this Good News being announced to her. The humble poor will be raised up, and the arrogant rich will be cast down. The Gospel always sounds better to the poor (something we might keep in mind from time to time!)
Jesus, of course, knows this. The sage from Nazareth even knows more than the sage from Omaha! And notice how un-concerned is our sage from Nazareth with the question of taxes. He will not be taken in with this “gotcha” question! Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s; what do I care about that? But will you even give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
Will we give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
In the church, of course, we don’t have taxes. The primary reason for this is because we all figure out what we have to pay in taxes, but the question in church is how much we feel called to give. This church stands as a testament to the marvelous grace that men and women have felt called to give to the church with great generosity no matter how much they have had to pay in taxes.
And now we are in a difficult time. And how can we give a thought to giving to God the things that area God’s? What claim to does God have on your hard-earned dollars? What right has Saint Mark’s to collect them on God’s behalf? Especially now?!? What if it’s just like 1929 all over again?
If it was just like 1929, what could I say to convince you that God has a claim to your money and to mine? How could I persuade you that Saint Mark’s is the place that deserves the gifts you are called to give back to God… when it’s really a question of deciding whether or not you believe in the Gospel that brings a reversal of fortunes? Because, while it isn’t true for all of us, very few of us are ever in danger of giving too much to God – myself included. And the Gospel has always sounded dearer to those who are willing to give more of what they have away.
Christians have long held to an axiom that is more profound than Warren Buffett’s investment advice. It might go something like this: Be hopeful when others are fearful, and when others are hopeful, rejoice that your hope has been compounded!
What if it’s just like 1929 all over again? If it is, then a little girl has been born who will grow up to be a princess, and the most beautiful woman in the world. (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
Whether or not the economic situation today is really similar to that of 1929, there is certainly enough anxiety around to make a lot of people fearful. But all we have to do is walk around this neighborhood to remember that the world did not actually come to a screeching halt in 1929. And if the buildings that were built that year were more empty than full for a while, their fortunes have been reversed – and many of them are now luxury condos. And do we really think that God has less in store for his people than he does for a bunch of buildings? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
And in the seventh inning of Game 4 of the World Series of 1929, the A’s (who were down, 8 – 0) pulled off a reversal of fortunes that’s been called one of the greatest comebacks in sports history. Do we really think that God has less in store for us than he did for a baseball team? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
And although the A’s moved away long ago, if it’s just like 1929 no wonder the Phillies are headed to the World Series – and I’m just saying don’t be surprised if they win it in Game 5! And do we really think that God has less in store for us than he does for the Phillies? (Be hopeful when others are fearful!)
2008, like 1929, is quite a year. There is cause for some measure of anxiety, it has to be said. And amidst this anxiety, will we give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s? Or will we just argue about taxes, and fixate absurdly on what a plumber in Ohio might have to pay?
I suppose that depends a lot on whether or not we truly believe that we are called to be hopeful when others are fearful.
And during these next couple of weeks, as we hear more and more from the campaign trail that sounds like the loaded question from the Pharisees – Is it good to pay taxes or not? – Let us remember that Jesus found practically nothing to discuss on the topic.
Because he had a more difficult question to ask, no matter what year it is: Will you give a thought to giving to God the things that are God’s?
Put it another way: Will we be hopeful when others are fearful?
Good question.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
19 October 2008
Saint Mark’s Church, Philadelphia
The Feast
Feasting really has gone out of fashion in this day and age. Do we really ever get invited to a feast? We go to formal dinners occasionally, but we are far more likely to inhale a TV dinner or a handful of Chicken McNuggets by ourselves then we are to sit down to a meal with a large group of people. And I’m not even sure that merely a large group qualifies as a feast. There is in the word “feasting” a sense of solemnity, of length, of plenty, of laughter, of toasting, and of overwhelming abundance. A feast isn’t really a feast without huge sides of meat, without vast trays of delicacies, barrels of beer and vast amounts of wine, and the obligatory roast pig with an apple in its mouth. Feasting is not for those who are closely examining their waistlines or are in bondage to nutritionists.
A feast is what we imagine pirates doing, after a successful day of pillaging; or Vikings, boasting of their exploits in battle. There is, in short, in feasting a certain roughness or gruffness; a quality of being slightly out of control, slightly wild. A feast is more like a fraternity party and less like a Norman Rockwell-esque Thanksgiving Dinner.
We, certainly do not feast. We, frozen chosen Episcopalians would look slightly askance at too great a display of emotion, that kind of wildness at a social event. We gather certainly, for communal dinners, but really, feasting is a bit passé and bit rustic. We would be forced to yell at our companions across the table, and listen to their slightly off-color jokes. Feasting might make us slightly uncomfortable and exposed.
But we must learn to feast, because if the Scriptures that we read today are correct, feasting is our final goal and delight. Feasting is our future.
It is unfortunate that feasting has left our experience, because it is a preeminent and much used image throughout the Scriptures; a way of talking about the incomprehensible and unimaginable future that God is preparing for his beloved people; a way of talking about heaven.
First, in the passage that we heard from Isaiah, we have the wonderful image of the mountaintop feast, where God gathers all peoples and makes for them a feast of rich food filled with marrow and well-aged wines strained clear. The feast is a celebration, because in the future which God prepares for all peoples, the sadness of life and sorrow of death are removed and God wipes the tears from our faces.
And Lord knows that we need to be reminded of this hope, as we have watched the stock markets and the financial markets of the world crumble, as we have watched our own savings dwindle and people all around us struggle to make ends meet.
Lord knows that we need an abundant feast, as people are struggling to find the money to feed themselves and their loved ones.
Lord knows that there are many, many tears on our faces, as we look at a world and a city filled with violence and poverty.
And the Lord does know all that, and there is tremendous and vast hope in knowing that our sadness and our cries are not ignored and that the day of feasting and an end to sadness is coming.
But the hope of that day is not just pie in the sky. The passage from Isaiah is about what God will do, at some future moment. The parable from the Gospel of Matthew this morning is about what God has already done in Jesus. The kingdom of heaven, which has come near us, which is among us, is like a wedding feast. A wedding feast which was RSVP only, but when those guests failed to come, to which all are invited, those worthy and those unworthy.
At first blush, this parable seems to portray the king as an arbitrary and angry ruler, who has simply decided to have a party, and if he has to force the guests to come, he is powerful and will do it. When he finds a guest who isn’t dressed correctly, he tosses him out of the feast. Is this really how God is? Arbitrary, petulant and dangerous?
But no, of course God is not like that, nor is that the meaning of the parable. The feast, you see, is the most important thing; the feast is the end and purpose of our life, what we were made for. That restlessness and sense that we sometimes have of not quite being home; that is because we were made for the feast, and instead we are in the midst of fasting and suffering. The feast is the reversal of the Fall, the return to Eden, rest after long labor, the period at the end of the sentence. And so to have an invitation to the feast and not go, or to go and not be ready for the feast is a drastic and massive failing. It is like having tickets to see the Phillies play in Game 7 of the World Series (God willing) and instead decide to go to a movie, or stay home and watch the game on television.
What the parable is teaching is the necessity of being ready when that great and glorious day, long hid from our sight comes. That day when we are invited into the festal hall of the King with all sorts and conditions of people, and showered with food and drink to celebrate the end of death and the healing of grief.
What we are about this morning is preparing for the Feast. What we do here at the altar is a kind of mini-feast, a practice feast, a way to get ourselves ready for that final, eternal feast. We gather as all sorts and conditions of people, we gather however worthy or unworthy we feel. We gather, business people and paupers, young and old, many races; all the peoples that God has made. We gather and are made one and become a sign and symbol of what we were created for: the feast to end all feasts and the party to end all parties.
What we do as the church, as the People of the Way gathered here is both preparation for and participation in that great and glorious day hid from our sight. This mass is an image, an icon of the Wedding Feast of our God, the Supper of the Lamb, in which our God spreads out a feast for us, wipes away our tears and showers down upon us the abundant food and drink of eternity.
Though we cannot see it, and though so much of our world seems dark, we are already in the outer chambers of the king’s palace. Already the feast has begun and we wait only for the doors to swing open to admit us into the gathering; that great crowd of witnesses which none can number.
Come then, come to the Feast; prepare yourselves for heavenly food and drink. The rich food will be upon the altar, the well-aged wine in the chalice. With this feast, God will wipe away our tears, not for the last time, but for time being; with this feast we will be strengthened, for the work ahead of us, to go out into the world, to comfort those who mourn and bind up the broken-hearted, to be with the sick, the friendless and the needy, to work for the restoration of the Kingdom, that we may be ready when that great and glorious day is upon us.
Preached by the Rev’d Andrew Ashcroft
12 October 2008
St. Mark’s Church, Philadelphia