Twenty-Third Sunday of Pentecost
Our Seminarian gave the sermon this morning, after what seems like a rather brief maternity leave. Her subject was the Book of Ruth. It was taken from the Old Testament reading.
I had a chance to experience once again the story of the dutiful daughter-in-law who would follow the mother of her late husband "wheresoever thou goest, I will go." Ruth 1:16. It is Mommyland's favorite passage of the entire Bible.
I don't usually remember much of the service on mornings when I'm an usher or when I'm on the Cross Team, but, the First Reading and later, the Sermon, were enough to make me forget that I'd promised Oliver to help with the count.
Alcoa, who has been attending for quite some time, shook my hand vigorously as I handed him an Order of Worship. I thought of him later during the talk on Diversity led by The Rector, in the Gray Lounge.
It was a perky little talk. It was not as well attended as the one on Race, held about a month ago. That was probably because they had run out of the little blue-colored inserts in the Order of Worship that had the Announcements printed on them.
Nevertheless, The Rector was in his element; he spoke for twenty minutes on early St. Michael's history, threading the needle from antebellum plantation chapels in the south, to the growth of the Methodist Church from disaffected, post-Civil War Episcopalians, and Seneca Village, the New York City neighborhood made up primarily of African-Americans, razed when the plans for Central Park neglected to take note of their presence. Seneca Village was located only a few blocks away from St. Michael's.
I think almost everyone agreed that St. Michael's is a friendly place. I think Alcoa would have been among them -- had he come to the talk. But, he didn't and, I hadn't expected him. He has been attending pretty regularly since last spring and may have been among those stalwarts who kept the pews pretty full this summer.
But this morning, for the first time, I saw him bring a friend. Always an encouraging sign.
Paradise was the lone dissenter, and -- as far as I can tell -- represents a sizable, if somewhat sullen, portion of the congregation. He spoke good-naturedly enough; there was not a hint of bitterness. But, who would guess just from looking at this meticulously dressed, almost professorial-looking, middle-aged black man, that he could be the object of so much caution and suspicion both inside and outside of church? As I've said before, he's quite a puzzle.
We kicked that around for a bit, the charge of "superficiality". Then, The Rector brought up the subject of neighborhood change. St. Michael's has always been buffeted by demographics. One former Rector regularly delivered sermons in German. Amsterdam Avenue, just blocks away from where my friend Matt Graber used to live, was once known as "The Jewish Park Avenue".
Today's challenge is how to minister to the needs of both some of the poorest and wealthiest Christians in New York City. The Rector admitted as much when toward the end of the talk I suggested that St. Michael's did not offer much of an evangelical message to the poor; that we are very "liturgical" which is to say, we're not always able to "tell people what they want to hear."
The Rector took it in good stride; I mean, what pastor wants to be told that he isn't much of an evangelist? But, he was quite candid in describing the difficulty of designing sermons for a congregation whose members hold such strong beliefs on a "myriad of subjects". He almost sounded like the president of Wesleyan when he said that. And, that brings up another point: as much as we pay lip-service to the word, "Diversity", it isn't always an easy condition under which to operate.
I had a chance to experience once again the story of the dutiful daughter-in-law who would follow the mother of her late husband "wheresoever thou goest, I will go." Ruth 1:16. It is Mommyland's favorite passage of the entire Bible.
I don't usually remember much of the service on mornings when I'm an usher or when I'm on the Cross Team, but, the First Reading and later, the Sermon, were enough to make me forget that I'd promised Oliver to help with the count.
Alcoa, who has been attending for quite some time, shook my hand vigorously as I handed him an Order of Worship. I thought of him later during the talk on Diversity led by The Rector, in the Gray Lounge.
It was a perky little talk. It was not as well attended as the one on Race, held about a month ago. That was probably because they had run out of the little blue-colored inserts in the Order of Worship that had the Announcements printed on them.
Nevertheless, The Rector was in his element; he spoke for twenty minutes on early St. Michael's history, threading the needle from antebellum plantation chapels in the south, to the growth of the Methodist Church from disaffected, post-Civil War Episcopalians, and Seneca Village, the New York City neighborhood made up primarily of African-Americans, razed when the plans for Central Park neglected to take note of their presence. Seneca Village was located only a few blocks away from St. Michael's.
I think almost everyone agreed that St. Michael's is a friendly place. I think Alcoa would have been among them -- had he come to the talk. But, he didn't and, I hadn't expected him. He has been attending pretty regularly since last spring and may have been among those stalwarts who kept the pews pretty full this summer.
But this morning, for the first time, I saw him bring a friend. Always an encouraging sign.
Paradise was the lone dissenter, and -- as far as I can tell -- represents a sizable, if somewhat sullen, portion of the congregation. He spoke good-naturedly enough; there was not a hint of bitterness. But, who would guess just from looking at this meticulously dressed, almost professorial-looking, middle-aged black man, that he could be the object of so much caution and suspicion both inside and outside of church? As I've said before, he's quite a puzzle.
We kicked that around for a bit, the charge of "superficiality". Then, The Rector brought up the subject of neighborhood change. St. Michael's has always been buffeted by demographics. One former Rector regularly delivered sermons in German. Amsterdam Avenue, just blocks away from where my friend Matt Graber used to live, was once known as "The Jewish Park Avenue".
Today's challenge is how to minister to the needs of both some of the poorest and wealthiest Christians in New York City. The Rector admitted as much when toward the end of the talk I suggested that St. Michael's did not offer much of an evangelical message to the poor; that we are very "liturgical" which is to say, we're not always able to "tell people what they want to hear."
The Rector took it in good stride; I mean, what pastor wants to be told that he isn't much of an evangelist? But, he was quite candid in describing the difficulty of designing sermons for a congregation whose members hold such strong beliefs on a "myriad of subjects". He almost sounded like the president of Wesleyan when he said that. And, that brings up another point: as much as we pay lip-service to the word, "Diversity", it isn't always an easy condition under which to operate.