Month: August 2011

The times we live in call for action. There can be little doubt that the unrest and volatility besetting Western nations and economies are signs of deep discontent. I would dare to call it deep spiritual discontent. Society has lost its moral compass and its ethical rudder is wedged so tightly by hubris that the wants of the individual receive primacy over the needs of the collective.

The riots in the United Kingdom and Greece are harbingers of greater instability. Politicians running roughshod over the needs of the poor in power plays for cheap political gain are a flare, warning of an ominous tide.

The church now as never before needs to insert itself as the Lion of Judah in society. We need to stand on the best parts of the Christian faith through the ages and proclaim (even with quivering voices) the hope and love we have come to know in Jesus. Jesus’ care of the widow, orphan, and poor should echo in our own concern for our world.

Once again the church needs to become a leader in society, rather than the lapdog of the powers of this world that would see it chasing its tail in search of long-lost members. We, who stand on the fundamentals of love and justice, need to commit deep within our hearts to stand for all that is good, and lovely, and true in our world.

The cost may be high, but the prize is worth every effort. For the Kingdom to come as we pray for every day, each of us must assume our role. Our means must match the ends we seek. So let us become leaders in all the spheres of our lives and show our society the way to Love. The times we live in call for action.

This past Sunday a group from the church and I headed to Cambridge Common where Rev. Jed Mannis and the staff of Outdoor Church host weekly communion services for the homeless.

We’d made about 90 sandwiches for distribution among the burgeoning homeless population, a small effort amid a growing crisis. A higher-than-usual number of teens from the suburbs are on the streets at the moment. Many may head home come October, when the weather turns cooler, but for the time being they find themselves vulnerable to malnutrition and other physical and mental abuses.

Not one of these young homeless folks attended worship and only two older, chronically homeless, individuals joined in. One, an elderly man, read the scripture from Matthew about Jesus feeding the 5,000. I felt awkward given the topic.

Shortly after the service a couple of folks materialized from the shady spots on the Common and approached the mobile altar. It’s a trolley beneath which are kept bags of sandwiches, socks, and hygiene kits. A woman wearing a bright pink dress and a cast around her wrist politely asked for a few sandwiches for her friends who were tending to a man who couldn’t stand.

As she looked us suburban church folks over, she told K (one of our group) that she looked familiar. “You do too,” K responded. She asked for the homeless woman’s name. In an instant, recognition dawned on their faces and grace exploded onto the scene as they walked toward each other with open arms. They embraced. They had been childhood friends in the same neighborhood.

In that moment I realized how much more we’d brought than our seemingly insignificant offering of sandwiches. We placed ourselves in a position to see and recognize our homeless neighbors, folks who are so often overlooked and despised even by those who toss a coin at them.

I remembered an editor I’d worked with here in Boston who demonstrated how he stepped over the homeless. His overstuffed belly threw him off balance. I thought of Congress mired in rancorous debate about the debt ceiling, one sticking point being funding for programs that serve the most vulnerable in society.

But there we were on a sunny Sunday afternoon, meeting our homeless sisters and brothers face to face, sharing the Eucharist, and handing out sandwiches soft enough for loose teeth to sink into. More than this we offered recognition made all the more powerful by an embrace and the merging of stories across the divides of time and privilege.