It Stays With Us

May 24, 2020 – the seventh Sunday of Easter

Acts 1:6-14

The Ascension of Jesus

In today’s reading from Acts we have a contradiction: We know that Christ is still alive and active in the world, yet, we are told of his Ascension into the heavens…

How can both be true?

Either Christ is still here with us, or has ascended to the Father and will come again in glory, right?

Perhaps, both CAN be true…

When the disciples ask Jesus if his ascension means that the Day of the Lord is at hand, he tells them, that it is not, not yet any way.

This day had been foretold by the prophets, as the time when all the barriers between ourselves and God would be removed, and the Kingdom of God would be right here…where we are!

On that day, God’s act of creation would be completed!

So, while Jesus tells the disciples that the Day of the Lord had not yet arrived, he does task the disciples, and each of us, with sharing the good news of God’s love “…to the ends of the earth.”

He calls them to be Christ in the world, to help bring about the Day of the Lord, to make the Kingdom a reality in our midst!

To share all that he taught them.

After all, Jesus was a teacher, and like any good teacher, his lessons never end, we continue to learn from him…every day.

And good teaching stays with us.

My father taught Math and Computer Science at Upsala in East Orange, NJ, this meant that I grew up as a ‘campus brat’, with life revolving around the school…and I am proud to say that I am also a graduate of the college.

It was in existence for just over 100 years, and touched many lives, producing a few authors, athletes and actors.

Along with the rest of us, who went into a variety of professions, from doctors to business people and even quite a few ministers, and…of course, teachers.

Unfortunately, the school closed about 25 years ago, with half of the campus replaced by a development, and the classroom buildings turned into a public High School.

However, even though the school itself has closed, it’s teachings have stayed with us…

And in many ways, it lives on through all of us who get together to share what he learned there, and this is not only the many teachers who graduated to teach others, but also the rest of us, who took this knowledge into our own professions.

Upsala’s legacy also lives on in the many friendships and families founded on campus, and in the stories we share, both in person and on Social Media…and through sharing these stories many new people learn about this place that was so important to all of us.

Each of us carries the story of Upsala with us…meaning that it is still with us, even though has now become a part of history.

Stories can bind us together, breaking down barriers of misunderstanding and disagreement, and can call us to reconciliation and healing in the midst of our brokenness bringing us to common ground.

Because stories teach us about each other, and about the world we share…

Whether they are stories about a school, or if they are stories about Jesus.

These stories keep memory and learning alive.

And where we find this common ground, we have a basis for growth…a starting point for moving forward, for our own ascension to making our world a better place.

This brings us closer to the time the disciples were asking Jesus about, the Day of the Lord.

In order to move us forward towards that day, we need each other’s help, which is why we are called to invite others to join us, just as Matthias was called to join the disciples, replacing the tragic Judas.

Through this, we are reminded that all of us who follow Jesus are disciples…it is not an exclusive club, but a family. We can all carry the light of the Gospel, and the more who carry this light, the brighter it shines!

Although Jesus has ascended, Christ is still with us, through the disciples, who were tasked to carry out his ministry in the world…

And we are all disciples.

Through each of us, Christ is right here in our world, and always will be.

Just as the alumni of Upsala have keeping the stories and teaching of that school alive, although it has closed.

Christ is alive when we offer each other support through the long uncertain days, when we wear a mask, and take other precautions to protect ourselves, our loved ones, and those around us…even if it is inconvenient, even if we don’t like it.

We act as Christ when we treat others with respect and compassion…even those we disagree with, or don’t necessarily like.

We are being Christ in our world when we seek reconciliation, where others foment discord, when we build partnerships that can offer us all support in the face of commons foes, not just the virus, but also ignorance and fear.

When we shine the light of God’s gracious love into all the dark places where hate can fester…we are making Christ known, right where we are, and the Kingdom comes closer to being a reality in our world.

So yes, Jesus can be ascended and seated on the right hand of God, and Christ can be right here with us, all at the same time!

This is because we are all in the same place, the risen Christ is not far off in the heavens, but in our midst…for wherever we are together, whenever we are working to help each other, and when we are gathered in praise and worship (even if Socially Distant) God is with us.

When God is with us, Christ is alive, and the Kingdom is within our grasp!

 

 

Peace Be With Us

 

April 19, 2020; Second Sunday of Easter

John 20:19-31

I have red hair, when I was young, it was really red…and I was often reminded of this fact, by strangers, old ladies at church, and bullies.

One day, when I was in second grade, I ran afoul of said bullies, and after letting them know that I did not appreciate their teasing, they offered to meet up with me after school to discuss the situation further: a classic set up, right out of the movies.

However, it was not quite as much fun in real life.

So, when school ended, I found myself sheltering in place. I was smart enough to stay near the office, but could see the bullies loitering just outside. I knew I was safe for the moment, but would not be able to stay there for long, and was thinking of an exit strategy, but not coming up with anything practical.

All I knew was that it was not safe to go outside.

I was thinking about my chances of taking another exit, thinking they could not be watching both the front and back doors at the same time…right? Then I saw a rattling old ’65 Valiant pull up to the curb!

It was my big brother Pete!

I was not expecting him, but my mother had asked him to pick me up after school, because there was big news!

When I walked out of the school, the bullies approached, but Pete saw them and told them to “get lost” and they backed away!

I was safe, at least for that afternoon!

When I got home, my mother told me I was changing schools!

(Yes, this really happened)

I would have to get used to a ‘new normal’ but at least those bullies wouldn’t bother me again!

And I knew that no matter what happened, that I would always have someone watching my back, always have someone to support me…just like Pete did, when he chased off the bullies.

In today’s Gospel, we find the disciples, also sheltering in place.

They were afraid to go out…because it was dangerous out there.

I remember hearing this Gospel in church, as a child, and thinking that they lacked faith in God, faith in the words of Jesus.

Wondering why they did not go out boldly and stand up their bullies…although I used caution with my own.

Looking down on them because they were afraid, and hiding.

However, these were thoughts of a child, and I was mistaken. For the disciples, going out WAS dangerous!

It would have put their lives, and the lives of those they loved, at risk because the same people who had executed Jesus wanted to kill them as well!

So, the disciples stayed hidden, and waited until it was safe to go outside; although they did not know when that would be.

While in hiding behind locked doors, they did their best to make sense of everything that had happened:

The arrest, torture and death of Jesus, the threats given by those in power, and now, the stories of his return! None of it made any sense, no wonder the disciples were afraid and confused.

They were facing an uncertain future. They knew it would be different, but had no idea what it would be like…yet.

But, for the moment, they knew it was better for them to play it safe, and stay in hiding.

There are some of us who may be able to relate to how the disciples were feeling on this evening.

Then, in the midst of their fear, sorrow and confusion, Jesus was with them!

And he appeared right when they needed him!

Just like my brother Pete did on that afternoon!

On this evening, the disciples needed hope, they needed to have something to give them peace, they needed Jesus!

He knew this, and so the first thing Jesus said to them was “Peace be with you”.

Usually, it is a simple greeting, but here, in the midst of their hiding place, these words became something more!

The last thing the disciples were feeling at that moment was peace.

Jesus’ greeting was also a sincere wish calm, a message of hope in the midst of a very difficult time.

Telling them, “Peace be with you” was a way of letting the disciples know that they were not alone, that God was still with them…that the promise of Christ, the promise of new life, was at hand…and this was reason for peace!

And this gift was given to them…and to all of us!

Then, Jesus asks us all to go out into the world, to tell others the good news, to share this gift of peace with a troubled world.

It is not an easy task, as our world is unsettled, and not everyone wants to hear this message of peace, nor does everyone want to hear the about God’s presence in our world.

The disciples would discover this for themselves, and that is why their road was not an easy one, but Jesus never promised that following him would be easy. There were plenty of reasons for them to have fear and uncertainty, but in the words of Jesus: “Peace be with you” there is hope, and strength.

Because with these words, Jesus is reminding the disciples that they are not alone, that they were part of the miracle of the Resurrection.

That faith can overcome fear.

Our lives are not easy either, even without a pandemic there are plenty of reasons to feel fear and uncertainty…

And at a time like this, it is even more important to be at peace, to seek out the faith that can quiet our fear, the hope that is found in knowing that God’s love surrounds always.

It is also important to remember that not only did Jesus wish us peace, but he also called upon us to be peace in our world…and to share this gift with our troubled world.

For the more we share God’s love and grace with each other the stronger it grows!

When we show compassion to those who are struggling, offer comfort to those who mourn, we are sharing our faith, faith that speaks to fear and uncertainty.

It is together that we will find the peace that we need to face the challenges of today, together that we will become the peace we need to move forward into our new normal…as we adjust to a new way of life in the wake of the virus.

In our new normal, it will be even more important for us to watch out for each other; not only to share this peace, but to be that peace!

May the peace of the Lord be with us all.

The Long Week

Palm Sunday: April 5, 2020

Matthew 27:11-54

Here we are, Palm Sunday, and we are coming to the end of a Lenten season like none of us have ever seen before.

What we have been through, gives us some insight into what it might have been like for Jesus and his disciples, living with constant uncertainty and anxiety, not being sure where their journey was leading them.

Today, in terms of our Lenten journey at least, we pausing to remember the triumph of Jesus’ arrival in the Jerusalem, knowing full-well that this is only a moment of joy, that darker days are to follow.

Knowing what is come, it would be nice to be able to celebrate the day; instead, our Gospel skips over this event and takes us to Jesus’ last three days: the worst part of Holy Week, but also the most significant.

These were days when hope must have appeared to be out of reach for Jesus and his disciples.

It was a long week for them…and it makes me wonder if Jesus looked back on his Palm Sunday triumph during the darkest times at the end of that week.

We know about long weeks, unfortunately, for some of us it has been longer than for others…with worries about family, health, jobs and finances…

To tell the truth, we have known too many of these ‘long weeks’ recently, and I am probably not the only one nostalgic for February.

And it is not fair…we did nothing to deserve all this, we were just living our lives as best we could, when the virus came and threw everything off course!

But when has life ever been ‘fair’?

Life certainly wasn’t fair to Jesus…

All his life, Jesus had tried to do what was right, to be a “Mensch”, a good person. He sought to follow God’s Will, no matter where it took him…and this, appears to be his reward: to be betrayed by a close friend, arrested, mocked, tortured and then rejected by the very people he had dedicated his life to helping.

And then he was executed as a subversive, an enemy of Rome, put to death in one of the most horrific ways possible!

With everyone watching.

Sometimes our only reward for doing the right thing is the knowledge that we have done what is right…and by doing so, we have made a difference in the lives of others.

Even if the results do not seem to be so great, at first…even if it sometimes feels like all our efforts were for nothing.

Back at beginning of the last century, there were Bridge Tenders, people who managed the opening and closing of drawbridges along the rivers surrounding New York City.

On one warm day in June, about 1930, one of these Bridge Tenders, up on the Harlem river, was enjoying a breeze outside of his small shelter, when he saw two girls fall into the water, where they were taken by the current.

Without hesitation, the Bridge Tender dove into the river in an attempt to save the girls. Though he caught up to one, the river was too strong for him, and all three died.

However, his sacrifice was not in vain. As a result, he won a Carnegie award for public service, with his widow and children receiving a modest prize which helped them to make ends meet. They also had the honor of seeing his name on a plaque in Grand Central Station.

And, his act inspired others to service, to show compassion for others.

The fact that I am sharing it today, proves that the Bridge Tender’s story did not end with his death…

Just as Jesus’ story did not end at the cross, but in the triumph of Easter morning, when he walked out of the dark of the tomb and into the soft light of dawn.

Giving us all hope.

Yet, as that long week turned toward the cross, that hope must have seemed very distant for Jesus.

In the midst of our long weeks, hope can seem far away from us as well…when will it end, why are we doing this, at the cost of jobs and relationships, the price of our freedom?

Where is our reward?

When we find ourselves thinking like this, we can instead think of the doctors, nurses and other people helping to fight this virus…it must feel like an uphill battle, with no end in sight, and instead, a lot of frustration, fear, and loss.

They are putting their lives on hold and at risk, in order to help us…and many of them are getting sick themselves.

It would not be surprising if they also found themselves asking “Where is our reward?”

Here, we can stop and once again look to Jesus, and so many who have followed in his footsteps…as the reward is not necessarily just for us as individuals, but for ALL of us, as a community!

What we are doing now will help to keep the people we share this world with safe and healthy, to slow the spread of the disease, and to save lives.

In this case, our reward will be knowing that we acted with compassion.

It will not be an easy journey for us, but at least we do not have to travel this road alone…

Even if we have to keep our distance, we will still have each other to help us through these dark days, and into our own Easter, and what comes beyond, as we step into our new lives.

We will get through this…together.

“Lazarus Come Out!”

March 29, 2020

John 11:1-45; The Death of Lazarus

 

I have often wondered what it must have been like…

For Lazarus.

What it must have been like to be so sick, laying in his bed and hoping to see Jesus, not only because he was a friend, but also because Lazarus knew that Jesus…who had become known for healing others, may also be able to save him from this illness.

But still Jesus did not come, and Lazarus faded…

His sisters, Mary and Martha, were caring for him, spending their days in his sick room, praying for his recovery, and then, perhaps, for his comfort.

They too were hoping for Jesus to come and help, but were also disappointed.

We can only wonder what it must have been like for Lazarus, as he finally lost the battle with his illness, the light of this world slowly growing more distant until hope of healing was out of reach.

And still Jesus had not come to help.

We don’t have to imagine how Martha felt when Jesus finally arrived, but was far too late to help.

We can almost hear it in her voice when she tells him “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died…”

But Jesus had his reasons for the delay, as he told his disciples a few days earlier “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory”.

Still and all, the loss of his friend did not feel good for him either.

This is why the Gospel tells us that “Jesus wept” at the loss of his friend.

In this moment, we can find ourselves weeping with him.

Then, we are also made a part of the joy experienced when Jesus called “Lazarus come out!” and the man staggered from the darkness of death and back into the light.

However, we have to wonder what it was like for Lazarus to return, to come back from the dead and its mysteries?

We wonder what those four days in the darkness were like, and what it did to him.

Many people who are in Recovery from Addiction to drugs or alcohol will say that they know what it is like to be in Hell, because that is where they addictions took them.

Finding Sobriety can be like coming back to life, returning from the dead and walking back into the light.

Yet this journey is not an easy one, because recovery does not bring us back to where we were, but takes us to a new place, and we have to learn a whole new way to live!

Perhaps Lazarus could have understood this.

After he was raised, his old life was out of reach, it no longer existed for him…

He had to find a new way to live his life.

The change must have been immediate, as how do you come back from the dead and not have even those you are closest to treat you differently?

And there was more, as the next chapter of John tells us that the same people who would soon be nailing Jesus to the cross also wanted to kill Lazarus.

They wanted to make sure he stayed this time, so that proof of Jesus’ miracle was not just walking around for all to see, so Lazarus ran away.

Jesus had given him a great gift, and he did not want it to be taken away from him so quickly.

According to one tradition, Lazarus fled to Cyprus, where he eventually met with the Apostle Paul, who appointed him Bishop in the newly formed church, responsible for sharing the good news of God’s love, as given through Christ…

A message he knew well, having received it in person from Jesus, as he was called back to life.

Yet, the trauma of his death and return must have weighed heavily on Lazarus…

Today, he would probably be diagnosed with PTSD…because, why not?

Being brought back from the day has got to be traumatic!

Tradition also tells us that after he came back, Lazarus seldom smiled or laughed. Instead, he remained taciturn, withdrawn and serious.

But he also became known for his piety, devotion to shepherding the church, and to helping all those in need. It was believed that this new life of service was inspired by what he had seen while in the land of the dead for those four days.

Trauma is something that many of us can relate to.

Most of us have known sorrow and suffering that has changed who we are, or has changed the lives of those we love…and now we are sharing another time of trial…together!

What all of us are going through will change our lives, because we can never go back to where we were before the virus hit, we are different people, just like a person in recovery from addiction…

Just like Lazarus.

While I do not believe that it is ever God’s Will for us to suffer, as Jesus pointed out, sometimes suffering can help bring out the best in us.

How we face this trauma can show the world what it means to be followers of Christ, to truly walk in his footsteps.

These times can make us stronger people, stronger in faith, and stronger in love and compassion for each other. Facing these challenges can also lead us to find reconciliation at a time when it seems as if many have been trying to pull us father apart.

We can find unity in having gone through a common trial, one that transcends all of our differences: politics, religion or race.

And we need to rely upon each other to get through this, and then to move beyond the virus and into a new life, because we can never go back…but that is okay, because when Jesus raised up Lazarus, he did not call upon him to back to his old life, but to a new one…a true gift of love.

The same new life promised to all of us in his resurrection on Easter morning, when Jesus himself stepped out of the darkness and into the light of a new day.

This promise was given to all of us on that early morning, as Christ came to change the world with the good news of God’s love for all people…a message we are all called to share together.

We share this message by caring for each other, and supporting each other, for wherever this message is shared, we inspire hope in each other.

Hope, that is sorely needed…not only today, in the midst of this crisis, but for the world that we will be moving into…together.

For this too shall pass…and we will all find recovery as we are all called back into the light to proclaim that God’s love still shines brightly!

 

A depiction of St. Lazarus

Jesus and The Blind Man

 

March 22, 2020

John 9:1-41; Jesus Heals the Blind Man

Lent has become a very real for us this year…

Not only are we following Jesus as he journeys towards the cross, we may be feeling as if we are actually making that journey ourselves…

We are experiencing things that most of us never thought we’d see…not outside of a movie or a TV show.

During this season, we have found ourselves living with uncertainty and anxiety, in danger of getting lost in the darkness that comes with the fear of the unknown.

Searching for meaning, seeking the light…when all we want is for things to go back to normal.

When we are not even be sure what ‘normal’ means any more.

For the blind man in today’s gospel, the darkness was normal, it was all he knew…to be healed was something he could hardly imagine.

Then, Jesus came along and changed everything…

He gave the blind man sight, for the first time ever, and gave him a new ‘normal’.

We may read of this miracle and think that the blind man’s life was great after Jesus restored his sight, but healing is not always easy, while the blind man was given a miracle, it came with a price: lots of questions and accusations, and a lot to get used to, as his life would never be the same again.

He had to learn a whole new way to live, as he could never go back to the life he knew.

A few years ago, while walking out to my car, I slipped and fell on the ice, and I shattered my elbow!

This left me with pins and a plate in my elbow, which led to a long and painful recovery. After a couple of weeks of healing, I started Physical Therapy. It was not fun, but with a lot of help, I was able to regain about 90% of the use of my arm.

I got better, but things did not go back to the way they were before the accident, I simply had to get used to a new normal.

Today, we too are moving towards our own new ‘normal’ and the journey between here and there will not be an easy one.

It will be difficult and painful for so many…

But with each other’s help, we will find healing; however, our lives will never be the same.

While this too shall pass, it will leave a scar.

Just as I did after my accident, and like the blind man in the Gospel, we too will need to adjust to our new lives, and we may find ourselves in mourning for what we have lost:

A job, a lifestyle, a relationship or perhaps, sadly, we may even find ourselves mourning people who have fallen victim to the virus.

Or to the fear it inspires.

And this is where faith comes in, for this is a gift that can carry us through all the changes and challenges that we will face on our way to healing.

For faith, especially when shared, enables us to face our fears, and speaks to our anxiety, as it is the good news of God’s gracious love, which surrounds and supports us always…

It is this gift that inspires to keep moving forward, giving us hope for the future, assuring us that our world can never grow so dark that the light of God’s love cannot reach us.

This is Jesus’ promise, a promise given when he told those questioning him about the miracle, and also told us, that he is the light of the world…

The true light of God’s love, given for us all…the light that we are called to share together, until it grows so strong that there is no darkness left.

The light that gives us hope on our own journey…

For it is the same light that shines forth from the empty tomb, a light that remind us that for every season of Lent, there is an Easter.

We Thirst

March 15, 2020; The 3^rd Sunday in Lent

John 4:5-42: Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well.

There’s an old reggae song that goes like this:

“You never miss your water, till your well runs dry /Tell me, tell me, whatcha gonna do when your well runs dry?”

Today, we may all be feeling a bit like our wells have run dry…

Not only are many of the grocery store shelves empty, but we too may be feeling kind of empty, and more than a little afraid.

Most of us have never seen days like this, the last major pandemic to go through the area happened 102 years ago, in 1918, and while we may have heard stories from grandparents or great grandparents, no one alive today has first-hand experience to share with us.

These strange days have left many of us feeling thirsty…

In need of some comfort, some support…

Thirsty for hope, something to hold on to.

In our Gospel today, we find a thirsty Jesus asking for help from an unusual source: a Samaritan woman, who had also come to get a drink.

Now, Samaritans and Jews were not supposed to get along, they treated each other with suspicion and only talked to each other when absolutely necessary.

Sharing a drink of water, would have been unheard of…because they were from such different groups, with a tradition of animosity.

The Jews considered Samaritans unclean, and would avoid them whenever possible…

But here is Jesus, asking a Samaritan woman for a drink of water, asking her for help!

Jesus was thirsty, and that thirst was greater than any prejudice he was told that he was supposed to harbor towards this woman.

The woman was also thirsty, not just for water, but for meaning and for hope!

The hope that can be found in the water of eternal life which Jesus promised her!

Today, we may be feeling just a bit afraid…and we are thirsty for comfort and reassurance, as we are facing much uncertainty…

And we are kept on edge with each announcement, report, social media posting, and news broadcast.

We are told to practice social distancing, to stay home, wash our hands, and not to touch each other, or even our own faces!

It is understandable that we would want to withdraw, to take all we can for ourselves and our families and hide behind closed doors until this danger has passed.

We are at a crucial moment: when we can widen the divisions between us, making this every person for themselves…

Or we can seek to follow the example of Jesus, and of the woman at the well.

Today, instead of putting up walls, we can put aside those things that keep us divided, and reach out to help each other with compassion and hope.

We can offer each other support, because we are all in this together…and because this is what Jesus calls us to do.

But, how do we offer each other care and support while ‘social distancing’?

How do we quench this thirst for comfort and hope if we cannot get together share these gifts?

If we cannot join for worship and fellowship?

In 1918 when events were cancelled and church services suspended, the people still had a strong sense of community…

If a house was under quarantine, neighbors would leave food and letters on doorsteps, hold conversations though closed doors or windows, and other similar acts of kindness.

Today, we can do many of these same things, but we have something that our ancestors did not have during the last great pandemic, we have the ability to text, skype and Instagram, to IM, and to stay connected in ways they would have never dreamed of…

We can also be more considerate of others, by not taking more for ourselves than needed, by getting supplies for the older folks who may be reluctant or unable to get out to search the sparse shelves for themselves.

We can slack our great thirst for hope, for the water of life, by sharing the unconditional love of God, through showing compassion for each other.

Today, we may be feeling frustrated and afraid…uncertain about what comes next.

We may even be feeling alone and lost…

But in today’s Gospel, we are told that we are never alone, and never so lost that God’s love cannot find us…

For God’s love is with us whenever we share the water offered by Jesus to the woman and the well, and given to each of us in the Resurrection!

This water gives us hope when all seems bleak, it sustains us as we grow weary as we face the trials of life: the strife and discord that can divide us, worries about money, work, family, relationships, addiction and of course…disease.

And where this water is shared, there is reconciliation, as our brokenness begins to heal, and we remember that we are all part of the family of God…

Being part of God’s family means that we are all invited to drink from the well of hope that will never run dry.

Hope that can calm our fears and quench the deepest thirst.

Amen

The Storm This Time

It was coming for us, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

We watched on the news and the Weather Channel as it wound its way ever closer, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. We knew it was going to be a major storm, but no one knew how bad it was going to be. Every expert had a prediction, but the only thing they could agree upon was that it was going to be a direct hit, and there was nothing we could do about it!

And, as if often the case, this uncertainty bred panic!

Many headed to the supermarkets to clear them out of bread, milk and eggs. People also stocked up on batteries, bottled water, toilet paper and paper towels. Some set up generators and others armed themselves, afraid that life after the hurricane would become dangerous!

Most of us did what we could, to limit the potential for damage, cleaning up our yards, putting away loose items, cutting down dead branches, and securing our windows and doors…and praying that we would make it through the storm okay.

When it hit, Hurricane Sandy was bad, the winds whipped through the streets, the rain came down in torrents. Trees came down, basements flooded, and we were without power for a few days, but it could have been worse! Some lost power for weeks, and people at the Jersey Shore lost homes, and others lost their lives.

After the storm, something amazing happened: we all pulled together to help each other recover from the disaster.

Sometimes this help was simple, like donating to a charity or helping a neighbor clean their yard, or cut up a fallen tree. Meals were shared, as were generators, and people came together to repair rooves, windows and walls.

After the storm, the panic was forgotten, and we did what we do best: come together in the face of a crisis, putting aside our differences, to ensure that we are all lifted up from the debris, able to move forward into whatever comes next.

 In faith that no matter what trials we face, we never have to face them alone.

We can weather the current storm in the same way, not by panicking, but by coming together to support and care for each other…to see each other through the storm, no matter how bad it may be.

Flipped

I was Sober for a change…that’s important to note.

It had been at least two weeks since I had a drink or illegal drug, because I had been very sick. In fact, I had spent ten days in the hospital, and only got home a few days earlier, just in time for Christmas.

It was December 29^th 1982, and the joy of being home from the hospital, along with the ‘magic’ of Christmas, had faded. I was already becoming bored. Due to my illness I could not drink, there was no pot to smoke, and while I was a student at Upsala College, right down the street, most of my friends had headed home for the Holidays.

Fortunately, my sister and her kids had come over, which broke up the boredom; however, she was having car trouble and was worried about making it back home to Staten Island, so our father volunteered to go with her in case the car broke down, and asked me to follow in the Toyota, so I could give him a ride home. I was happy to have something to do and jumped at the chance.

My two nieces, who were 8 and 6 wanted to ride with me, so I made sure they were safely secured in the back seat, with their seat-belts before we left.

As her car was questionable, and her mechanic was on the Staten Island side of the bridge, my sister decided to take the local route, through Bayonne and across the bridge. There were lights on almost every corner and I was having trouble keeping up with her dying Volvo. I usually drive pretty fast, but I had my nieces in the car…and it is pretty difficult to drive fast on the streets of Bayonne…even without all those traffic lights.

I remember making a comment about the importance of not having an accident while trying to keep up, but before long we got to the bridge, and we were right behind the Volvo…all was going to be fine, we were almost to our destination.

As we got onto the bridge, I was going around 40 or 45 (though the limit was about 35), but I was keeping up with traffic. I distinctly remember passing the Police car, reminding myself to be careful, as I did not want a ticket. Then, I ignored my own warning…knowing there was a toll on the other end of the bridge, I took my eyes off the road for a moment, as I reached over to the passenger seat to get my wallet.

When I did, my hand must have slipped on the wheel, because when I looked up, we were heading straight toward the high divider! I turned the wheel sharply but still caught the edge and the car when up the divider and turned on its side! Before I knew what was going on, I looked out of the passenger window and could see only asphalt going by…and I knew that this could not be right!

At that point, all I wanted was to get the car back up on its wheels, I thought this would fix everything, and so I turned the wheel, although I knew that it was useless, none of the tires were touching the ground as this point…but somehow, it worked and the car righted itself and I was able to turn on my signal and pull over to the shoulder.

Note that all this happened in heavy traffic, but we did not hit any other cars!

Once we were stopped, I released the death-grip I had on the wheel, put on the emergency brake and turned around to check on my nieces…above all else, I prayed that they were not hurt!

My older niece was hysterical and crying, but said she wasn’t hurt…to be honest, I felt the same way, bordering on shock! My younger niece, who was about 6, was laughing and asked me “Can we do that again?”

I looked out of the windshield and saw that the Volvo had stopped a few yards ahead and my father and sister were running towards us. However, before they reached the car, there was a knock on my side window, it was a cop!

I rolled my window down and he asked if we were all okay, and I told I thought we were, he saw that the girls were in the back with seat-belts on, and just then my sister appeared and began checking on them. Once it was clear that we were okay…just shaken up, the cop told me that he was impressed that I had gotten such distance and altitude out of the Toyota, and asked “How did you get it back up on the road?”

I honestly answered, “I don’t know, I just kept turning the wheel and that worked!”

By then, other cops had arrived, and the officer I was talking to asked me how fast I was going. I told him about 45, and he said “No, the speed limit is 35, you were going 35, right?” I did not get it at first, and wanted to be honest but he insisted, and I got it just in time to confirm “Yes, I was going 35!” just as another cop showed up to hear it!

My thinking is that he was not anxious to give me a speeding ticket, or to see me get any charges, considering that I did not hit anyone else, the girls were belted and safe, and I was clearly sober.

Although it had been on its side, sliding along the on-ramp to the Bayonne bridge, my father (I was done driving for the day) was able to drive the Toyota off the bridge and to my sister’s mechanic a few blocks away. From there we got a flatbed to take my father, myself and the wounded Toyota back to New Jersey, where we met up with my mother.

I was terrified that she would be mad at me…I mean really mad, she had a temper, and this time, it would have been justified. When we got out of the truck, I approached her with caution, telling her how sorry I was (that was not a lie) and I braced for whatever punishment I would receive, but instead she hugged me, telling me she was just glad that we were all okay, and that “…sheet metal can be replaced, but we could not!”

Later, she said that it was probably too soon for me to be driving again after being so sick, but I never bought it, I knew that I had been distracted by the kids and worrying about paying the toll, but in the long-run, I had to admit that it really was just an accident, and I learned to forgive myself.

And, the Toyota was eventually fixed, and eventually, I bought it off of my parents and drove it until the Summer of ’87, when once more it wound up on its side…this time it was parked in front of my apartment on Staten Island (having moved down the street from my sister, when I worked on Wall Street), and another driver backed into it, ending its valiant life!

As for my nieces, they are now adults with families of their own, and doing just fine; although, my older niece did flip over a Ford Aerostar when she was a teen, but maybe the experience in the Toyota helped her, as she and her passengers survived that crash with no problems.

Funny how life comes around like that…from time to time.

 

A depiction of the crash I drew shortly after the event.

The Small Packages

 

It was the small packages that bothered me the most…

I’ve become familiar with death, and have learned to accept it.

As a part-time Hospital Chaplain, I have been with people who were dying, sitting with them as their lives faded away, talking with them, sharing jokes and stories, making sure that they were not alone as they faded.

Saying prayers as their breathing became labored, and holding their hands as they exhaled for the last time…

As I watched the life leave their bodies, it was as if they deflated, and I knew that they had moved on.

I have spent time with families in waiting rooms and chapels as they prepared for loss, and stood with them at the bedside when the lights had been lowered, and shared a prayer, or simply listened as they began to mourn. I have also made arrangements and performed funerals, for both friends and strangers…and in the end, I said the final words over the grave as I poured the sand “In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection…”

I have also stood with a priest (in training) as he said the Last Rites for the first time by without another Man of the Cloth, and helped him with his anxiety.

As a Patient Transporter a a big hospital, I have watched as bodies were prepared to be taken from the room and have even made the trip to the morgue myself.

We always went as a team, as we had to move the body on to a transport cart and then cover it with a sheet before carefully taking it to the basement, avoiding all public areas.

The morgue was not like the ones you see on TV, there were no banks of stainless-steel vaults where the body could be stored and then rolled out dramatically for identification or examination. That would not be practical for a busy morgue, sadly, there would not be enough room.

Instead, the morgue was a large refrigerated room, with shelves along the walls, and filled with row upon row of dull metal carts, while some empty, most were occupied by a body, zipped into a thin, white plastic bag.

The room was lit by banks of florescent lights, institutional, without warmth or hope.

I got used to being in the company of death…at least for the most part. I have come to see that it really is a part of life, and nothing to fear. I have never seen any one who was screaming and sobbing at the end, they all moved on peacefully…most asleep or unconscious, although some were praying, looking at loved ones or simply smiling, and there was one man, who told me he was an Atheist, and “…didn’t need no preacher” when he met me, but was calling out to Jesus when the end came.

After all I have seen and experienced, I can’t believe that death is the end…although I do not know what comes next.

However, this is not to say that I never find death painful…or unfair, as I mourn those I have lost, and feel sorrow for those who have died due to addiction, accidents, illness or violence.

And felt injustice at those who have died too young…

This is what bothered me the most about those trips to the morgue, about the small packages.

They were placed on the shelves the lined the walls of the room, in neat little bundles. At first glance, it was hard to tell what they were. I had to ask, and when I learned the truth, it made me incredibly sad.

Children are not supposed to die.

Our children should be playing in the Sun, laughing at cartoons, complaining about school work and vegetables, and sleeping in soft beds, not held hostage to the evils of this world, or laid out on a cold steel shelf, in a room beyond hope.

They are supposed to wrapped in love, enveloped by the warmth of family and all those who care for them, but sadly, we know that this is not true for every child. Many face challenges and trials that are not of their own making. They have faced violence, abuse, disease and poverty…neglect and loneliness.

The world is not always fair to the innocent, nor does it always deal justly with the guilty, leaving most of us simply shaking our heads.

Looking at those small packages, laying in that institutional room, was evidence of just how unfair the world can be.

They also brought back some of my earliest memories…from before I became who I am, maybe even before I knew my parents.

Those are memories of being on a cold ward, filled with metal cribs, of toys pushed through the bars, of being alone, of being cared for by the doctors and nurses who sought to recover children who had been on the verge of being lost.

Of looking up every time a door opened, to see if there was a familiar face…come to take me home, wherever that may be.

Those small packages also reminded me of how fortunate I am, to have been given the life I have…

Because I know that I too could have been wrapped up in one of those small packages, were it not for the Grace of God, and the intervention of the compassionate.

And this reminds me to practice compassion in all that I do.

Making the Connection

I take phone calls all day…it’s my job.

These calls are seldom pleasant, as no one calls me just to thank us for the great service we provide to our customers; however, they are not all bad either, most are professional, and I do feel a sense of satisfaction if the customers seem happy when I give them a ticket number and hang up the call.

Most calls are pretty routine however, even the nasty ones often turn out to be “more of the same”: complaints about the bill, service interruption issues, etc., but there are some calls that stand out, because I made a connection (however small) with the customer. Sometimes it is when the account holder has died, or the business has failed, and there are times when I talk with someone from a similar background, or we have a place in common…like New Jersey or NYC.

And, I have had a few calls, where the customer was a stutterer, and as anyone with this affliction can tell you, the phone can present a big challenge…in the midst of many that are faced by those who stutter.

I talk all day long, and have done quite a bit of public speaking, but many are surprised to hear that I used to stutter pretty badly.

I am not a stuttering expert, and really don’t know what causes it, but in my case, I really believe that Karma played a role. In first grade, there was a kid named Pepe, who was a lot of fun to have around, because he was often acting-out and would do almost anything we dared him to do. This meant he was often in trouble, and when he was yelled at he got nervous and this brought out his stutter. Being kids, the milk of human kindness was in pretty short supply, and we made fun of Pepe’s stutter, comparing him to Porky Pig and mimic him.

Of course, it did not take long for me to start stuttering myself.

It felt like I was a broken record. The words were there, but I just couldn’t quite come out, no matter how hard I tried! They simply got stuck! Then, the kids started to make fun of me too…which was not as much fun as teasing Pepe.

At least this got me to stop teasing him, as I was not too young or ignorant to miss the irony. I had hoped the problem might pass when I stopped teasing him, but it persisted for years.

Looking back, I think the stutter sounded worse to me than it really was; however, it still made me self-conscious, and added to my growing social awkwardness and anxiety. It also led me to avoid speaking up in class and to be afraid of public speaking.

And the teasing continued as long as the stuttering remained a problem.

One thing that bothered me almost as much as the teasing, was when people would complete my sentences for me. Often, when it was clear that I was stuck on a word, someone would step in to help, assuming they knew what I was going to say. This would usually break the log-jam, but it was annoying that people…and especially because not all of these folks were well-meaning, some were just tired of waiting for me to finish what I was saying.

Even those who did mean well bugged me; however, I was more frustrated with myself for not being able to get my words out!

This went on until the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in High School. We were on vacation with family friends, when my friends’ father took me aside and told me about his own stuttering problem. This surprised me because he was a pastor, a very good preacher and speaker. He told me how he worked hard to overcome the problem, and then gave me a book, called “Stuttering Solved”. He told me that the book helped him to understand his stuttering and find new ways to face the problem, rather than just relying on tricks like avoiding certain words.

I was a bit embarrassed, but I had known this man most of my life, and saw him as a father figure, so I valued his advice, and actually read the book! In it, the author talked about well-known people in history who had a stutter and what they did to live with it. He talked about Winston Churchill and how he would say “ummm” before he began to speak, as a way of resetting himself. The book also talked about the King George VI of England, who worked hard to overcome his stuttering through practicing steps that would alleviate some of his anxiety about public speaking. Then, the author talked about the country singer: Mel Tillis, who stuttered terribly when he was talking, but had a smooth singing voice.

The author said that this intrigued him. He wondered why Mel could sing so well, but have such a hard time speaking, and after some research, consultation with experts and other stutterers, the author concluded that the trick was air-flow! Of course, the flow of air is crucial to speech, but what he figured out was that the way air flows as we are singing is very different from when we are speaking, and that if a stutterer could use the same process to speak as to sing the stutter almost completely went away.

Then, the author wrote, he actually practiced speaking this way, and found that his stutter disappeared.

Usually, these kinds of process-improvement steps don’t work for me, but in this case, it did! I found that by speaking as if I was singing, my voice became smoother and the stutter all but went away! The change was dramatic, and a relief.

It took some practice, but before long this way of speaking became a habit, and to this day, over 40 years later, I still try to speak with a lilt. This is not to say that I never stuttered again, even now, I can still get stuck on a word, especially when tired or stressed, but it is so much better.

My experience with stuttering (and with being bullied in general) has led me to feel more empathy towards others who are being picked on, and who are struggling with things they cannot necessarily control. This has been helpful when working with kids, on various project teams, and also while working in call-centers, where I have to field dozens of calls every day, from a variety of people.

I worked in my first call-center while in college, it was for an airline. I remember one call I took from a person who could hardly get a word out due to stuttering. One of my co-workers was trying to help, but was getting terribly frustrated with the person, which was evident…and made things worse. I overhead this, and as I was off of my call, offered to take over. The caller was struggling and almost in tears, until I explained that I understood, because I also stuttered, and eventually he calmed, slowed down and we were able to get his flight booked.

This and similar experiences with other stutterers, and with people for whom English is a foreign language have helped me both professionally and personally to have more patience and understanding. This empathy has allowed me to be able to listen to the stories of others, and to identify with the struggles they may be facing…which in turn has helped me to offer support these people the support they needed.

Having someone to connect with, someone who understands, makes a big difference and takes away the added stress of the situation.

And I can use this empathy in any case, as we are all facing our own issues, and often when my customers are difficult, it is because they are struggling with something unrelated to our services. While it may not be fair, or right, people who work Customer Service often play a surrogate role, we are people who can’t really fight back, giving some a ‘safe place’ to express their frustration over many things they feel powerless over.

Note, I don’t see this as healthy for anyone, and I think that there are better ways of dealing with the stress of life than venting on a stranger, but it happens all the same. When it does, I can see it as an opportunity to show these people that everything does not need to be a fight, and that there are better ways for us to treat each other.

However, having someone we can connect with, talk to and even vent with, can be very helpful, especially if they understand where we are coming from, because they have taken the same journey.

And this is one of the lessons I learned from stuttering, and from being adopted, and from struggling with Addiction: any challenge is easier to bear, if we do not have to face it alone.