Christ Church, NYC : Vision 2020: Outreach

Vision 2020: Outreach

May 25, 2008

Second Sunday after Pentecost
Isaiah 49:8-16a; Matthew 6:24-34
The Reverend Javier A. Viera

Today we continue with Part III of a series Stephen began on Pentecost about the nature and future of our church family. We’re doing this now because, as you hopefully know, we’ve launched Vision 2020, a congregational vision detailing our unfolding purpose and work in the world. Over the next four weeks Cathy, Stephen and I will speak to the vision within the context of our four ministry areas: Today I will address Vision 2020 as it relates to our Outreach ministry (our work with the poor, the underserved, the immigrant, the elderly, the homeless, and the marginalized in New York City and beyond), while next week Cathy will touch on Spiritual Formation, followed by Stephen addressing Community Building and Worship in the final two weeks. If you hang in there with us over the next four Sundays I think you’ll see why we claim that there is no work more rewarding or important than the work this congregation has collectively envisioned and chosen to pursue.

I do not exaggerate when I say that the moment we are living at Christ Church is monumental. Preachers are often given to hyperbole, and we tend to use language to dramatic effect, yet I believe with every fiber of my being that this moment in our church life is indeed monumental.

We inherited a great legacy; that cannot be denied. Just look around and you get a sense from whence we’ve come. After a few decades of decline and near collapse, we’ve spent the last twenty years attempting to rebuild a once robust community, not in the likeness of its former glory, instead in a new way, relevant to our time and circumstances, while simultaneously honoring our heritage. We’ve come a long way.

We have a long way to go. It’s a bold vision, friends. We have worthy dreams and lofty aspirations, but what else should we expect when we share the mission “to love God above all things and our neighbors as ourselves”?

In his sermon last week Stephen said this: “When someone asks what business the church is in, we should truthfully respond “the transformation business.” Surely that’s the business God engages. We don’t normally think of it like this, but consider the dynamic creation story. We tend to think of this as a static-state condition, that is, first there was nothing and then there was something and it’s been that way ever since. But creation has always been on-going, still is on-going, and we’re in process all of the time. If you think about your own life you see the truth of this proposition.” [1]

I’ve struggled this week with how to speak about our Outreach work, even though I live and breathe it every day. In part, I’ve struggled because I don’t want to talk about it in ways we might expect. I don’t want to talk about ‘giving back because we have been so blessed.’ You’ve heard that before. I don’t want to speak of our Outreach ministries as a way of volunteering our service or ‘doing good’. You’ve not only heard that, but there’s also nothing particularly Christian about that. Anyone can volunteer service and ‘do good’. I don’t want to talk about Outreach as a way for us to find fulfillment and meaning in our lives – the poor and those in need don’t exist so that we might find meaning and purpose. And I know I don’t want to share a moving anecdote of my experience with Outreach work. You’ve heard me preach that sermon; it’s an important sermon, but not one for today.

Yet, if Stephen is right that the work of God is the work of transformation, then we’ve all come here today, knowingly or not, to be transformed. We’ve come to be changed. We’ve come because we recognize that life is not as it should be – it could be more. We’ve come today in search of something – comfort, wisdom, guidance, inspiration, community, challenge. In other words, we’ve come to this place in order to be re-oriented from what we know and experience each day, and so participate in an alternative way of life. We’ve come for respite from our daily grind in order to be present to a more excellent way.

Jesus seems to understand this well. The first words he utters in today’s gospel lesson get at the heart of our anxiety. “You cannot serve both God and money.” That’s never an easy message to hear in a Park Avenue church. Yet it’s what it takes to unsettle us, to get our attention, and to make us receptive to the more important message: “Do not worry.”

Isn’t it odd to hear these words given our global economic and political reality? (It’s perfect timing, if you ask me). Jesus understood the temptations and concerns that often overwhelmed his hearers. Speaking to a group of mostly peasant farmers worried about whether their land and labor would produce food, income, and security, he spoke words they desperately needed to hear and believe. They were worried about daily existence, about the future health of their children and their country, about the wars their governments started and could not end, and about the impact foreign alliances would have on their ability to survive economically and physically. They were simple people with complicated anxieties. In that context Jesus says to them words that must have been difficult, if not impossible to hear, “You cannot serve both God and wealth. Do not worry about your future, about your present, you have not been forgotten.”

That too is the message Jesus intends for us to have. “Do not worry.” His very being, his very presence on earth, was God’s message to humanity: “Do not worry. I have not forgotten you. I am with you. I am with you in times of distress. I am with you in times of devastating loss. I am with you in war and in peace. I am with you in your fear. I am with you when the world seems out of control, when you think you’re buried beneath the weight of life’s challenges. I am with you when you’re lost, when you cannot find your way, your purpose, you self. I am with you. Do not worry. Do not lose yourself in service to what will not last; rather, trust that I am with you. Be not anxious, for I will not forget you.”

Tell me that we wouldn’t be transformed if we trusted these words. Think about the freedom that would be ours were our fears and anxieties to be relieved. For some this is nothing more than a wishful thinking for the weak of mind and heart. For the Christian it is the message of transformation we have been called to proclaim. This, my friends, is how I understand the purpose of our Outreach ministry. The task we have been given is to proclaim this very message to the ends of the earth. When we serve that meal at the Sunday soup kitchen, we say to our guests “Do not worry. Here is a gift from God.” When we sit with the elderly of the Methodist Home in the Bronx, we declare to them, “Don’t be anxious. You have not been forgotten. You are loved. God is here with us.” That’s the message our presence delivers. When we spend the night downstairs in our shelter, we say to a group of men who have little to hold on to, little to keep them together, “Do not worry – at least not for tonight. God has given you a home. Our home. And God has given us to each other.”

Friends, that’s why we make our way often to New Orleans, to Ghana, and to lower Manhattan. That’s why we’re building partnerships in Latin America and the South Bronx. Whether it is with the victims of Hurricane Katrina, or with the people of Mbang in Ghana, or with the children from our Saturday Kid’s Program, or with the recent immigrants we tutor, we deliver the same message: “Do not worry. You have not been forgotten. We’re here with you.” Can anyone honestly say that this message – ‘do not worry’ – is not a message of transformation for those who hear and experience it through our work. It is a message that has the power to transform us, the people we serve, and the world around us. It’s the most important message we have offer, for it’s the most tangible way for us to love God and our neighbors.

The beauty of this message is that it is one that we not only deliver, but one we also receive. When by our presence and through our gifts we tell the people in Mbang, Ghana, “Do not worry. You’ve not been forgotten,” we open ourselves to the opportunity to hear back, “Do not worry my American friend, you have not lost your soul by serving was does not last. Welcome my friend. Welcome to Africa. God is with us, and we need not worry.”

When we find ourselves in the south Bronx telling children and their communities: “Do not worry. You have not been forgotten. We are here together. God is with us”; when we do that we have the opportunity to hear back, “welcome to the Bronx my dear Manhattan friend. We’re not that far away. Do not worry. It’s nice here. God is here. We are bound to God together.” That’s the message we carry with us to New Orleans. That’s the message we bring back. “Do not worry our New York friends. We know our suffering has not been forgotten, because we are here together. You’ll be changed while you’re here and you’ll go back to New York transformed, because we are here together. Do not worry.”
In our Old Testament lesson God delivers the message in a similar fashion. To a people returning from a devastating exile, after years of alienation and suffering, returning to uncertainty and perhaps an even more precarious life, God says: “Thus says the LORD: In a time of favor I have answered you, on a day of salvation I have helped you; I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people, to establish the land, to apportion the desolate heritages; saying to the prisoners, ‘Come out,’ to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves.’ They shall feed along the ways, on all the bare heights shall be their pasture; they shall not hunger or thirst, neither scorching wind nor sun shall strike them down, for he who has pity on them will lead them, and by springs of water will guide them... For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones… Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.”
Imagine your own life free of worry or anxiety. What does the thought of that feel like? Can you imagine it not as a faint wish, but as a promise you share with a church family? It’s only possible because we’re here together offering it to and receiving it from one another, through the grace of God. The work of transformation takes place because we’re committed to it together; making a reality as best we can for one another and those we serve.
On June 15 we will commit ourselves as a congregation to this work. Like the exiles returning to an unknown future, the first priority is to get our house in order. As we get our house in order we can with a greater certainty and capacity proclaim this loving message of God. So Church, “Do not worry.” Yes, we will be transformed. Yes, we will be changed. Yes, the future is bright and waiting for us to take our place. Do not worry, friends, we have good work, important work, ahead. It’s the work of transformation. It’s the work of God. Be not afraid or anxious; we’re here together. Thanks be to God.

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[1] Stephen P. Bauman, “VISION 2020,” a sermon preached at Christ Church, New York, on may 18, 2008.

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