From Our Interim Rector: Labor Day

It’s Labor Day weekend. Monday, we’ve got a holiday in honor of our workers. (Yes, St. Martin’s office will be closed on Monday.)

When I lived in Australia, we celebrated Labor Day in March and the old-timers still called it “Eight Hour Day”. They were celebrating that in 1856, their workers had been among the first in the world to win an eight-hour work day. They were lucky the day had such a peaceable origin.

In this country, Labor Day came into being in 1894 after a particularly nasty confrontation between labor and business: the Pullman Company was losing money, so it laid off workers and cut remaining workers’ wages without lowering what it charged them for housing and necessities in the company town. The workers went on strike and refused to work on trains carrying Pullman cars. The strike spread across the country, and involved 250,000 workers. Chaos ensued. President Grover Cleveland sent 16,000 troops to quell the strike. Both sides used violence. By the time it was over, there were thirty dead and $80 million dollars in damages. Six days after the strike ended, the President declared Labor Day a federal holiday. Labor Day was President Cleveland’s attempt to bring peace between labor and business.

We continue today to try to support the interests of both our business community and our labor force. But the more we work at it, the more we discover just how complicated it is. Protecting or increasing the profits of a company enough to make the business a desirable investment may mean cutting jobs. Supporting workers’ rights to fair wages and benefits may cause the company to go out of business or move overseas. It’s complicated!

It’s also messy. I remember a garbage strike in Philadelphia with weeks’ worth of stinking trash piled up in a park near us. At the same time, I recognize how valuable union support has been to members of my family when they were being treated unfairly in the workplace. I have struggled with vestries and non-profit boards to come up with raises the employees both need and deserve, when we are also struggling to keep the buildings functional and the mission vibrant. I know how awful it feels to have to let a valued employee go because there just isn’t enough money to go around. It’s complicated! 

That’s why I like the Episcopal Church’s prayer for Labor Day. It asks God to guide all of us in our confusion:

Almighty God, you have so linked our lives with one another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives: So guide us in the work we do, that we may do it not for self alone, but for the common good; and, as we seek a proper return for our own labor, make us mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers, and arouse our concern for those who are out of work; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Blessings,
Rev. Phyllis Taylor

From Our Interim Rector: What to Wear on the Streets

Our son graduated from college with a degree in psychology and sociology. He spent a couple of years working with children with problems while he decided whether to go to graduate school. We were fine with that. Then one day he called us from Los Angeles and told us he had decided to join the LAPD. He was enrolling in the academy. We were proud that he wanted to serve, but scared out of our minds. But it was his decision and we supported him. 

He survived the long and grueling course, and we went to LA for his graduation. It was a fine ceremony. We sat with the other proud families on the beautiful grounds of the police academy. The officers were handsome in their dress uniforms. There were fine speeches praising the hard work of the men and women in the class and thanking these new “peace officers” in advance for having the commitment and courage to go out every day to protect the public from the forces of evil. 

After the reception, we went back to our son’s house and he proudly showed us his new working uniform and all his paraphernalia. He laid each item out on the bed for us to admire: his bullet-proof vest, his riot helmet, his riot shield, his guns, his sprays, his batons. It came home to me what he would be facing out there on the streets each day. I was absolutely terrified. “Promise me you’ll wear your vest every day,” I begged him.

And that’s the tone we need to hear in Paul’s voice when he says to the new Christians in Ephesus today, “Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may stand against the wiles of the devil”. He lays out for them the many pieces of spiritual armor they are going to need for their protection: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. He urges them to put on their armor every day, “that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.”

The armor Paul is talking about is not body protection against bullets and bombs. He is talking about soul protection against those forces “which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God”: lies that are easier to accept than to challenge, policies that are just plain wrong, violence that walks all over basic human rights, despair that promises us nothing will change, apathy that convinces us there is nothing we can do, materialism that guarantees the things we get are more important than the kind of people we are.

We can only protect ourselves against these forces with the armor God gives us: truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, the Spirit. 

Paul warns us today, “Be careful out there!” He pleads with us, “Put on the whole armor of God.” Pray God we listen.

Blessings,

Rev. Phyllis Taylor

From Our Interim Rector: Wisdom for Dummies

If you’ve been in a bookstore lately, assuming you can find one, you’ll have noticed how many books there are with “Dummy” in the title. They first came on the market as self-help books for people new to computers who couldn’t understand a word of the manuals. They saved my sanity. Now they provide help on a wide range of subjects.

It says if we want wisdom, we have to start by knowing that we don’t know much. When we hear Wisdom’s servant girls calling out, “Yoo-hoo! Dummies!” we have to say, “That’s me! Here I am! Over here!” We have to admit we are dummies.

I see this week’s lesson from Proverbs as “Wisdom for Dummies.” Wisdom, it says, in the overview, is like a woman who builds a house, sets a table with bread and wine, and goes out into the street to invite all the dummies to come in and eat and drink and talk with her. Then, after they have learned enough to get started, she sends them out to get on with their lives according to what they figured out at the table.

It says wisdom isn’t something that can be packaged in a few verses or rules or slogans. It’s too big for that. People can’t come up and knock on the door of Wisdom’s house and be given a pat answer to take home with them like a trick or treat. They have to come in and sit down and talk through the issues they are struggling with.

It says no one person has all the answers, all the wisdom to tell us what to do. Only God does. Those struggling to find answers must discuss the questions with one another in Wisdom’s house, in the presence of Wisdom. They must listen to Wisdom, let Wisdom lead the discussion, as they talk and listen to one another.

It says that wisdom isn’t just something that lives in our heads and is fed by logic and words. It’s also something that lives in our guts and our souls. Wisdom feeds the seekers bread and wine at her table while they are talking. In the gospel, Jesus says in similar fashion that we gain life by eating his flesh and drinking his blood.

It says that wisdom is not just a bunch of facts we accept, or theories we believe, it’s the way we live our lives. As we say nowadays it’s, “walking the walk, not just talking the talk.” In this passage, Wisdom asks the seekers to, “live and walk in the way of insight.”

It all sounds very Episcopalian to me. It’s what I love about our church. I see the people of St. Martin’s grappling with wisdom this way every day: starting meetings with prayer; humbly sharing and listening to one another; centering our life together in prayer, meditation and the Eucharist; making a real effort to be agents of Christ’s love in the world. I feel wiser every day I’m here, and very grateful.

Blessings,
Rev. Phyllis Taylor

From Our Interim Rector: Elijah and Walking with Angels

We come across the prophet Elijah in our first lesson this Sunday. He is in a sorry state. He has dismissed his servant and friend and gone out alone, a day’s journey into the wilderness. He is sitting under a tree as solitary as he is. He says he has had enough. He asks to die and lies down to wait for his prayer to be answered.

What is the matter with him? How did he get in such a state? We don’t know. 

Perhaps he is simply exhausted from the stress of being a prophet. We know from the previous chapter that he spent the entire day competing with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel for the souls of his people. He and the Baal’s prophets traded insults and taunts all day like children on a playground: “My God is stronger than your God!” “Your God is a joke!” “My God is going to whoop your God but good!” At the end of the day, the true God sent fire on the sacrifice Elijah had prepared for him, while the sacrifices the prophets of Baal had prepared for their false gods still sat there, a soggy, bloody mess. God won the contest for Elijah, but it took a lot out of the prophet.

Perhaps Elijah is out there in the wilderness because he’s afraid to go anywhere else. Queen Jezebel has put a price on his head. She has not taken kindly to what Elijah did to the prophets of her god Baal. The wilderness is the only place he feels safe.

Perhaps he is in the wilderness because he is depressed. He has, after all, the classic symptoms: he has withdrawn from everyone, even those closest to him; he has no energy for anything except lying around; he has given up eating; he can’t see any way out of his misery but death.

Perhaps he is angry at God. In the following passage he complains that God has let him down. He has tried to do what was right, he has done everything God asked him to do, and his reward is that there is a price on his head. Where’s the justice in that?

Whatever the reasons Elijah is in the state he is in, our hearts go out to him.

Then comes the good news. An angel from God shows up. He touches Elijah, then puts some food and water in front of Elijah and says nothing but, “Get up and eat.” Elijah does, but then he lies back down again. The angel shows up again with food, again he touches Elijah, but this time, besides serving the food he says to him, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” The angel is offering Elijah not just food for his body, but also whatever help Elijah may need to get himself out of the state he is in.

This time Elijah gets up, eats and drinks, and then uses “the strength of that food” to journey back to Mount Horeb (Mount Sinai) to encounter his God and figure out with God what he needs to do to get his life back on track. In the rest of the First Book of Kings Elijah goes from strength to strength, until the chariots of fire come to carry him away. It’s an inspiring story.

When I attended my first SUPPER at St. Martin’s, I realized how well the members of this congregation “get” this story. They had invited the whole community to SUPPER, no questions asked, no money requested, no commitment demanded. The community arrived with family, with friends, alone; parishioners, neighbors, perfect strangers. Who knows why they came, what burdens they were bearing. Angels from St. Martin’s met them at the door, clasped them by the hand and welcomed them by name. Other angels filled their plates with truly delicious food prepared by yet more angels, and seated them at tables with interesting folk. Information prepared by other angels was readily available on the opportunities available to them at St. Martin’s. When SUPPER was over, they were sent on their way, hopefully strengthened for their journeys.

I went home walking on air. I had been with the angels. I was so proud.

Blessings,

Rev. Phyllis Taylor

From Our Interim Rector: Emancipation Day

Today we are celebrating Emancipation Day with our Caribbean brothers and sisters. All the Caribbean islands have a festival to celebrate the end of slavery in their land, although the dates vary. The islands once under British control observe the anniversary around August 1, as it was on that date in 1834 that the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 took effect. Islands under the control of other European powers abolished their slave trade according to their own schedule: the French Islands in 1826, which they celebrate at the end of May, the Danish ones in 1848, which they celebrate on July 3.

On St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands, a former Danish colony, I came across a most amazing church a few years ago. It wasn’t its architecture or its liturgy that blew me away, it was these words on the front of the bulletin:

The Cathedral Church of All Saints
St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands
“The Virgin Islands Greatest Monument to Freedom.”
Built in 1848 by the people of St. Thomas in thanksgiving to God for freedom from slavery. Because of a severe drought in 1848, molasses was used to mix the mortar used between the stones.

Our family made jokes with one another about this being the “sweetest” Church we were ever likely to worship in. (Get it? Molasses in the walls?)

But then it struck me: molasses was one of the main reasons the people who built this Church were slaves to begin with. They were captured in West Africa and brought to the Virgin Islands to work the sugar plantations for the Danes, the French and the English. Their freedom had been taken from them for the sake of this sticky black liquid and the rum it could produce. They must have hated molasses.

I’d visited sugar plantations in the islands and been appalled at how horrible life was for the slaves who worked there. It was back-breaking work planting, cultivating and cutting the cane. It was crippling work, turning the mill stones by hand to crush the cane, when the wind refused to turn the windmill. It was hell-hot, dangerous work, tending the fires that boiled the crushed cane down to molasses. And the slaves were forced to produce this molasses with the lash on their backs and not much food in their stomachs. Their lives were a misery, all for the sake of molasses.

When the slaves had been set free in 1848, they couldn’t wait to erect a Church to give thanks to God for their freedom. There wasn’t enough water to mix the mortar, but that wasn’t going to deter them. They were going to go ahead with the project even if it meant using molasses. It was going to be something to tell their children: they had put the hated molasses in their monument to freedom, their thanksgiving to God.

Using the molasses that had been the symbol of their slavery to make a symbol of their freedom made sense to them, because they were Christians. They had grown up venerating the cross on which their Savior died a miserable death. They worshipped a God who had taken this instrument of torture and used it to bring his people freedom.

I guess that only makes sense to those of us who are Christians.

Blessings,Rev. Phyllis Taylor