March 01, 10:30am (Kevin Westling)
So this was Jesus’ tour group: Elrod, Darnell, Henry, Sonja and Ted. Their first stop: A radical fair housing group rehabbing an old house. The inside of the house had been gutted and was divided by stud-walls you could still see through. It was so cold they could see their breath and feel the wind when it whipped up. Jesus told them how the organization was employing neighborhood unemployed young men and women, training them in the old fashioned way of apprenticing. Each house had one or two skilled workers mentoring the neighborhood kids. They accessed as few federal dollars as possible so they would not be beholding to the politicians or regulators.
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SERMONS @ TRINITY
Jesus in Buffalo
A Lenten Koan
Based upon John 3:1-17
by The Rev. R. Cameron Miller
Jesus ran into a Buddhist monk at Home Depot.
At first Jesus thought the monk worked there because he was wearing one of those bright orange traditional Buddhist robes. Well, if you’ve ever been to Home Depot you know that all the ‘Homeys’ wear bright orange vests! So you can see how Jesus could make a mistake like that – he isn’t a detail guy after all.
Anyway, the monk’s name is Bebe (pronounced Bee Bee) and he is a for-real Chinese Buddhist monk who lives with a bunch of other monks somewhere on the Westside of Buffalo. It turns out that Buddhist monks go to Home Depot too, (but not Wal-mart). Jesus does not dress in robes any more, at least not in Buffalo but BeeBee, being a deeply spiritual sort of person, recognized a fellow soul-searcher like Jesus. They kept passing each other in the aisles and nodding until finally, in the screw and nail aisle, Bebe asked Jesus who his Master was. Jesus grinned and wondered how to answer.
“Well…Moses I guess, but I studied Isaiah and Micah in particular.”
When Bebe closed his eyelids, both his eyes and his lips seemed to grin serenely simultaneously. That is what he did then, as he bent forward ever so slightly toward Jesus.
“I have read your Isaiah, but not this Micah you mention.”
After a moment of silence between them, Bebe asked,
“Have you read my Master, Jetsun Milarepa?”
“Why yes, I have. Very enlightened was he, and quite mischievous!”
Bebe giggled as Jesus continued,
“He was able to actually fly as I recall. He called it ‘air walking’. I only walked on water – guess he one upped me, eh?”
Bebe giggled again. Then he put his hands together as if praying, and gingerly tipped forward toward Jesus again. Jesus returned the gesture and they went their separate ways, Bebe toward the hand tools and Jesus toward the checkout aisle where ‘the pastors’ were waiting for him – rather impatiently.
“Who was that you were talking to?”
It was pastor Elrod that asked, with almost a scowl across his face.
“Oh, just a kindred spirit lost in the Home Depot.”
Jesus was touring outreach ministries in Buffalo with a group of Protestant and Catholic clergy who had bid on the opportunity at a charity auction. “An afternoon with Jesus” was the auction item, and ‘the pastors’ nearly came to blows hovering around the bid sheet all night. ‘The pastors’ became so agitated and hostile to each other that the charity organizers finally got them to agree to share the afternoon (and at the same time quintupling their proceeds). It should be said that under normal circumstances, these pastors would hardly have spoken to one another. Many people do not realize just how much veiled and unseemly competition exists between spiritual leaders, and there was something about bidding on Jesus that broke
that antagonism open like a ripe melon.
It was a toxic brew of internecine vitriol and passive-aggressive righteousness. Jesus, to his credit, seemed to take the group in stride and was detached enough that he did not react to the veiled bickering and jockeying taking place around him. Jesus called it “non-anxious presence.” He said that Bebe would understand.
The group was composed of four Protestants and a Roman Catholic, one woman and four men, four in urban settings and one in a suburban congregation. All of them were pleased to be seen with Jesus but found it disconcerting to be sharing the experience with other clergy so distinctly unlike themselves.
Elrod was the “Senior Pastor” of a very large Evangelical congregation in the far suburbs of Buffalo. His congregation was so large that it had begun to plant satellite congregations throughout the region, each one exploding with membership and energy. So much depended upon him personally, his preaching and reputation that he was hyper-sensitive to appearances and his own purity.
Bishop Darnell was the leader of the largest African-American congregation in the region. Everyone knew Pastor Darnell’s church because it hosted a Wilson Farms convenience store and a Starbuck’s Coffee kiosk in the main lobby. In addition to his Church, he also had a housing ministry that received millions of dollars in Federal grants and he was active in local grass-roots politics. Pastor Darnell was aloof; some would even call him arrogant, but he saw himself as a public model of achievement and success in all things.
Rev. Henry was a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant through and through, so much so that he did not even realize he had an ethnic identity. He just thought of himself as like everyone else even though few in Buffalo would see themselves like him. He knew which fork to use when, and was as comfortable at the Buffalo Club as he was at the altar. Pastor Henry was the leader of an affluent liberal congregation that had been in the city of Buffalo almost as long as the city itself. He was happy-go-lucky and unassuming to the point of being clueless.
Mother Sonja was paradoxically a well-known social advocate and political liberal but somewhat traditional as a minister even though she was an open lesbian. Her congregation was small but historically significant and she was astute at networking so that she knew everyone in the circles of power. Mother Sonja was somewhat formal herself, extenuated by the fact that she was an introvert as well.
Rounding out the group was Fr. Ted, a wink-and-nod Roman Catholic priest. Fr. Ted was a man about town, the pastor of a very large and burgeoning parish and school, and the priest you went to if you were divorced but wanted to receive communion anyway. Fr. Ted had a way of making his members feel better about the more unpopular rules and doctrines coming from across the sea. He would cock his head to one side, put a hand on your shoulder, smile and wink. That meant, “What happens in Buffalo stays in Buffalo.”
So this was Jesus’ tour group: Elrod, Darnell, Henry, Sonja and Ted. Their first stop: A radical fair housing group rehabbing an old house. The inside of the house had been gutted and was divided by stud-walls you could still see through. It was so cold they could see their breath and feel the wind when it whipped up. Jesus told them how the organization was employing neighborhood unemployed young men and women, training them in the old fashioned way of apprenticing. Each house had one or two skilled workers mentoring the neighborhood kids. They accessed as few federal dollars as possible so they would not be beholding to the politicians or regulators.
“But that is such small thinking!”
Bishop Darrel seemed almost offended at the idea.
“There is nothing wrong with federal dollars. Why, my housing organization has built four times as many houses in the same amount of time. And we build brand new homes, not rehabilitations of these sagging old structures. What is wrong with these people, don’t they understand how to make a real difference?”
“Ah.”
Jesus was thoughtful before he responded. He was looking around at the young people focused on their work and at the tour group ogling the scene. Finally Jesus answered Bishop Darnell this way.
“Well, it depends upon your goal, bishop. If the goal is to create middle class housing for poor people, or at least housing that looks middle class, then you have one kind of operation. If the goal is to increase your congregation’s presence in the neighborhood or highlight its profile in the city, then you have one kind of operation. If the goal is to change lives through building relationships with people, then this is the kind of program you develop.”
“That’s preposterous. Getting people into better housing, moving them up, giving them what everyone should have, that is what changes lives. I don’t know what you mean by changing lives through building relationships.”
Bishop Darnell was clearly agitated, and yet uncomfortable being at odds with Jesus. It was Jesus after all, and Bishop Darnell felt a little naked by the public tension. At the same time, he had no idea what Jesus was talking about and that had the effect of making him angry. Jesus was calm when he answered.
“That’s interesting. I would have thought that a man who has come so very far on the basis of the relationships that he has formed, would understand that lives are changed through relationships more than by what material possessions one is able to amass.”
“Let’s go to another place I know about.”
So they all piled into Jesus’ borrowed mini-van. He had borrowed it from Holly Maloney and it was full of odds and ends. Pat had gears and tools for his boat in the back, along with copious amounts of tangled up fishing supplies. Holly had Sunday School paraphernalia on the seats and floor as well; stuff like packets of glitter, glue and all manner of art supplies – many of them half opened and leaking. ‘The pastors’ sat uncomfortably amidst the junk as Jesus drove and talked, often without looking at the road.
Then they arrived at a house bustling with activity. Jesus led them through, floor-by-floor, stopping to chat with the staff that ran the program and to touch and connect with many of the participants. He told ‘the pastors’ that this was a program started by a suburban congregation but had long ago outgrown that tie. Originally it was to help refugees resettle but now it welcomed anyone because it didn’t take them long to realize that reading, life skills, education and employment preparation were in short supply all around the neighborhood. He told ‘the pastors’ that this organization had a phenomenal success rate teaching literacy and that most of the current staff had once been clients. The original staff willingly worked themselves out of a job.
Pastor Elrod cleared his throat before he began.
“Yes, I can see that is all well and good. Good works are important, but we also know from St. Paul, that good works are empty if they do not derive from or lead to a conversion of the Spirit. Where is the spiritual depth of this program, and what is their success rate with bringing people to the Lord, er, I mean, to you?”
Jesus was truly taken aback with this question. The spiritual depth of the staff and their relationships with one another and the program participants seemed so clear and obvious to him, that he was not certain how to answer the pastor. Finally Jesus looked back at pastor Elrod and asked,
“When is a good work of any kind empty?”
“When it does not lead to conversion, of course. If these people do not know you as Lord and Savior of all, then they are endangered. Look around, I see Muslims here. I imagine there are people here who have never gone to church in their whole lives. How is learning to read going to bring them Salvation unless they are made to read the Bible?”
Again Jesus was startled. “Hmmm, Salvation…” Jesus mumbled to himself. Then he said,
“With God, all things are possible.”
“I don’t understand!”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t understand that it is okay that I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay.”
Pastor Elrod looked perplexed and embarrassed all at the same time. Jesus looked bemused and affectionate all at the same time. Then they all climbed into the van again.
Rev. Henry, who made sure that he rode shotgun, leaned over to Jesus who was driving, and whispered in his ear,
“I understand.”
“Of course you do.”
Jesus seemed to be chuckling as he looked at Rev. Henry. But Rev. Henry did not perceive the chuckle or its implication. He continued to speak to Jesus as if no one else was in the van.
“Salvation is such an antiquated concept. We gave that up years ago. We understand that God loves us and accepts us just as we are, even with our disconcerting little imperfections. Yes, we know all about that, so I knew just what you were talking about.”
“Yes, that is right Henry, you only need to be born again in order to be brought into to the love of God.”
Rev. Henry suddenly looked perplexed. His face got red and he started to sputter for words, puffing almost as if out of breath.
“What do you mean, ‘born again’? Not that old saw. We gave that up years ago. How can someone be born again? You can’t re-enter the womb, except by caesarian, ha, ha. No, seriously, you can’t mean that ‘born again’ stuff. You’re not serious.”
Jesus was chuckling a little louder now, and as he pressed the break to stop at the intersection of Lafayette and Colonial Circle, he started laughing out loud. His open chortlings were obvious enough for Rev. Henry to understand, and now his cheeks flushed with anger and reddened with embarrassment that Jesus was laughing at him.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Get out of your head, man. Take a plunge and go deeper than your ability to reason. For crying out loud, stop talking about God and open yourself to the experience of God. I don’t mean to be laughing at you but if you could see and hear yourself right now, I just know you would get a good laugh too.”
Rev. Henry turned silent after that, looking sheepish and hurt but trying to recover a façade of comprehension and knowing.
Then they arrived at their last stop.
They were at the Massachusetts Avenue Project’s urban gardens and Tilapia fish farm, right in the heart of the Westside. As Elrod, Darnell, Henry and Jesus walked past the enclosed fish farm and hothouse to look at the gardens in their winter habitat, Mother Sonja and Fr. Ted stayed in the car arguing. After a bit, the others realized that Sonja and Ted were not with them and Jesus returned to the minivan to find out what was happening.
Jesus could not believe it. Mother Sonja and Fr. Ted were in a bitter argument. As it turned out, Mother Sonja, who was openly lesbian with a partner, knew Fr. Ted’s had a secret partner; secret because he could not be openly gay in the Roman Catholic priesthood. She was castigating him for being closeted and he was defending himself and insisting she did not understand. They did not realize Jesus was standing at the open sliding door of the minivan as several bitter and barbed comments were exchanged. Suddenly they looked up to see Jesus calmly waiting for them to realize he was there, neither impatient nor judgmental. Then Mother Sonja broke the silence.
“Well? Well Jesus, tell him that he is a coward and that his hiding only serves to further the suffering of other GLBT Catholics.”
Jesus was silent as Fr. Ted looked at him plaintively, like a puppy that’s just peed on the carpet, and as Mother Sonja stared at him insistently with her arms crossed.
“Which one of you has taken the bigger risk? You Sonja, that lives openly as a lesbian in a church that accepts homosexuality? Or you Ted, that lives in secret within a church that condemns what you are? And which of you is most faithful? You Sonja, that fiercely critiques the institutions of religion and calls them to change; or you, Ted, standing hand-in-hand with those who have been judged and marginalized by their own religion? Only Solomon could be wise enough to make such choices.”
Mother and Father looked at one another with grim determination, each one having heard exactly what he or she wanted to hear. Then Jesus added this for their consideration.
“Let me say, at the risk of seeming ridiculous, that the prophet who is not guided by deep and pervasive love is nothing but an angry critic; while the victim seeking healing without addressing the crime or conditions that caused the wound, will always remain only a victim seeking healing. What you detest in one another is what is lacking within yourselves.”
Now they both turned and looked at Jesus with blank stares upon their faces, and in unison said loudly,
“What?”
He tried again to explain what he was hoping they would come to understand but finally gave up.
“Look, Jesse is over there waiting to show us around the gardens and the Tilapia farm and I don’t want to keep him waiting. Would you prefer to join us or continue your argument?”
With that, Sonja and Ted begrudgingly moved out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk. As Jesse led the group around the Massachusetts Avenue project, Jesus could not help but marvel at how difficult it is for these spiritual leaders to delve into even a thin spiritual depth. What, he wondered, was getting in the way? Couldn’t they see that God so loved the world that God remained always and forever present in the world? Couldn’t they see that God’s presence was out of love not condemnation?
As Jesus watched ‘the pastors’ follow Jesse, clueless to the power of the spirit that was surrounding them even at that very moment, he yearned to gather them up as a hen gathers her brood before a darkening storm. And yet, he could see that they would never willingly be gathered by him, or anyone else for that matter.
At the end of the afternoon Jesus shook each of their hands and they wished each other Godspeed. He drove the Maloney’s van back over to their house and began walking home. It was a chilly grey afternoon and Jesus pulled his collar up against the wind as he strolled up Chapin Parkway toward Richmond Avenue. Suddenly he heard a “beep beep” and turned to see Bebe driving his way in a bright orange Smart Car.
“Jee-zus! Jee-zus!”
Bebe was yelling out the window as he swerved down the street, just barley missing the side mirrors on parked cars.
“Jee-zus, you want a ride?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
Jesus jumped in and immediately they began laughing and giggling the way deeply spiritual people do.
