Marcia Sietstra:  Pastor

When I came across the delightful quote that is our theme for today, I knew immediately that I had to share it with you!  "Never place a period, where God has placed a comma!"  It is perhaps the most well-known of Gracie Allen's statements, though I am told she was known for other witty remarks as well.  I only vaguely remember the George Burns and Gracie Allen television show, so I've been asking people a tad bit older than I, about it.  I asked our jazz quartet to play a little music to bring us back in time to that classic show on television, when George Burns and Gracie Allen entertained America  (Jazz quartet to play "Love Nest").

As some of you know, Gracie Allen died decades before her husband, and the story is told that after her death, when he went to sort through her papers and things, on top of everything in her desk he found an envelope addressed to him.  When he opened it, the note inside said, "George, never place a period where God places a comma." 

On the show, George Burn's wife Gracie played the role of a ditzy, daffy wife, who always saw the world differently from George and the audience.  Gracie’s character often misunderstood reality, but occasionally her silliness uncovered a bit of wisdom for George and the audience, who took life a bit more seriously and much too mundanely.    

What makes Gracie’s quote so memorable is that it speaks to our experience!  How many of us have had something terrible happen, and we think it’s just the end of the world, but then we recover and what looked like the end of our world, really wasn’t.  It was only a pause; God had something new in mind.  No matter what happens to us, whatever the tragedy—a failure, a big mistake, the loss of health or a relationship, you name it-- we should never assume that this is God's last word.  We should never give up or lose hope.  "Never place a period where God has placed a comma...because God is still speaking."

The week before this past week, I was in New York City for a spirituality conference at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral.  Trinity owns several blocks of prime Manhattan property right on Wall Street, since at least as far back as the 1700's.  I attended the conference because of the prestigious speakers they can afford to bring in.

  I was hoping to gain some new insights into helping people connect with God, because I think that is what so many of us are seeking.  We had a wonderful Quaker speaker who specializes in helping public school teachers develop their spirituality through a series of seasonal retreats in which they meet in circles of trust. I heard another speaker who works with CEO's; he told us about how some of them have been able to develop their spirituality...but I'll save that for another sermon!

The cathedral and speakers were extraordinary.  I soon realized that every presenter was inevitably drawn to speaking about the attack on the WTC on Sept. 11, because, you see, Trinity Cathedral and the tall building next to it, called Trinity Institute,  overlooks the hole where the World Trade Center collapsed.   Many of the employees at Trinity watched the planes fly into the twin towers from their office windows.  They are still adapting to life after such a tragedy.

Interspersed between speakers, we watched film clips of interviews with employees of Trinity Institute, as they spoke about how this experience has impacted their spiritual life.  One chaplain told about the day when she was walking on the street beside Ground Zero.  She stopped when she saw a fireman using a welding torch of some kind to open up the door of a car that had been uncovered in the debris.  He finally got the door open, and when he reached inside he found a man's body and a child's body, still strapped in a little car seat.  The fireman lost it.  He threw the welding torch as hard as he could and screamed obscenities.  Seeing the chaplain standing there, he cried, "Chaplain, if you can stand it you can take a walk with me around this hell of a dump," and then he strode away.

She caught up to him and walked the nearly 2 1/2 miles around the area of debris and desolation.  About 3/4 of the way around, he finally broke down and cried for 45 minutes.  He told her that his own 7-month-old child had died 4 months before this.  He wanted to know, why is God doing this to me?  Why is God letting this happen?  The chaplain could only share his pain.  She couldn't answer why, but she suggested that maybe God didn't cause the pain, and maybe God was there in his efforts, helping families by uncovering their husband or child.

I went hoping to be inspired and learn more about how to help parishioners connect with God.  The lecturers gave me some ideas, but I actually had a more significant lesson just down the street

It was an Emmaus Road experience of sorts.  Let me explain.  Just down the street from the big cathedral stands a little chapel, a daughter church of the cathedral, called St. Paul’s.  This little, very old church was nearly closed last year.  There were only about 20 parishioners left. It was kept open primarily because of its historical value, a tiny church  standing there almost 300 years as the Manhattan financial district grew up around it.  A young Episcopal priest was placed there, and he wanted to try an alternative worship, with jazz and other innovative music.  He got that going last summer, but he had no idea how alternative his ministry was about to become.

  It changed on Sept. 11.  The World Trade Center was right across the street from the back churchyard; it overlooked the tiny cemetery.  Today pieces of twisted metal wreckage are still caught in the trees of the cemetery.   After the collapse, as volunteers began to pour into the area with food and supplies and offers of help, where did they go?  To tiny St. Paul's church.  Where did the signs for the missing family members go?  On the fence of the church yard.  It is still covered with pictures and flowers and shrines.

Those of us attending the conference were given passes so we could go into St. Paul's and see the ministry happening there.  I walked in the door and was stunned to see how much it looks like Crestwood!  The church is the same size as our sanctuary plus the hallways on each side of it, and maybe a little of the narthex, and also a balcony.  But it is big enough to have served 400,000 meals to recovery workers since Sept. 12.  They can come in for a free meal any time of the day or night.  It is where they can get a massage or a chiropractic adjustment, or just lie down on one of the cots that are set up beside the pews. 

The walls are covered with scotch taped drawings, cards and letters sent from children to the firemen and policemen.  The backs of every pew are covered with children's cards and pictures, saying "God bless you, We appreciate you, We are praying for you," and the like.  There is a huge box of handmade cards with a sign that says, "Recovery workers, please take as many as you want to read."  The sister who led us through the little church told us, "There are thousands more cards and letters from children all over the world, stored in boxes up there on the balcony.  We didn't know what to do with them anymore, so we started giving them away to the recovery workers."

We were invited to sit down in the front several pews and St. Paul’s food service director  told us how, on the day after the attack, a food line had been set up on the sidewalk in front of St. Paul's, because truckloads would just pull up and unload food.  But the health department came down and said you need to know where the food is coming from and you need to make sure it is kept hot and safe.  His cousin at Trinity had called him because he had restaurant experience. -

As he spoke, a violinist played softly--they provide soothing music for much of every day.  I looked around and saw a table of free pharmaceutical type items-- aspirin, cold medicine, toothbrushes--all donated for the men and women wearing hardhats and reflective vests.  I watched one very young fireman as he picked up his lunch, chatting, smiling with the volunteer dishing up his food.   Another was sitting in a pew, just resting; two policemen visited quietly in another pew.  I asked them if I might snap their picture, and it is on the coffee table, along with several other photos for you to see. -

The most important thing they serve at St. Paul’s is hope.   Hope built from the hellish rubble of a terrorist attack, because this is a place of compassion magnified.  The food service manager said that it’s the best job he’s ever had, and he’s never depressed when he’s there, just the opposite.  Here, there is so much good happening, it pushes away despair.  This is a place of love and compassion intensified, and that inspires hope.  Recovery workers, many of whom spend their days on their hands and knees sifting through debris looking for body parts, come here and daily receive the sacrament of compassion from ordinary people…children, musicians, chaplains, therapist, and God speaks another word to them here—a  word of resurrection.

Our scripture story today taught this ancient truth.  The two men who walked on the Emmaus road with Jesus, couldn’t recognize him because they had just suffered a tragedy—Jesus’ death.  They were every bit as traumatized and afraid as the recovery workers have been.  Their beliefs were as jumbled as the fireman who wept over the child he found in the burned out car, because nothing in life was turning out the way they thought it would, and they couldn’t imagine why God would let this happen.  

But the 2 men on the Emmaus road, out of compassion invited the stranger they met on the raod to stay the night and eat with them, because it was getting dark, and they were concerned for his safety.  Only as he broke bread did they recognize Christ.  Ordinary people, practicing ordinary compassion is the setting in which they recognize Christ!  It is the setting in which god speaks to us!

We are all like that distraught fireman at some time in our lives.  And it is in the compassion of others, that God meets us, and gives us hope—resurrection of our spirits.  It happens daily at the little church that looks so much like Crestwood.  People learn not to put a period where God has placed a comma…because God is still speaking, through ordinary people of compassion, like you and like me.  Amen.