Find your gas station

I was at the gas station filling up my tank, just down the street there, just thinking about whatever; creating a list of things I still needed to get done for the day, thinking about my time at St. Luke’s so far; thinking about a backpack ministry, my daughter’s competition that I had to miss due to a work commitment, about my son in Boston, about how Jenn and I really need to get out for a date night sometime soon, about pledges and stewardship, about streaming, about the faithful.

I was rather distracted; I probably need a smaller tank to fill.

While in this reverie, a red pick-up truck pulled up, a big one and one made for work.

The truck bed did not have the usual metal sides but slatted ones that could be removed for ease of access.

The bed itself was filled with wood and had a toolkit installed, scratches and dings caused probably by various incidents on a jobsite, this truck was well worn and well used.

A well grizzled man in maybe his early sixties pulled up; he opened the truck door.

He peered at me from between the open door and the side of the truck; he got out and closed the door.

Still looking, staring maybe but not too long, I did not feel uncomfortable, sometimes it’s just that people have a double-take when they see a priest in clericals hanging out at the gas station.

“Hey. Priest.” He said with a bit of an accent, eastern European, maybe.

“Hey. Priest. When you are done there, come give me a blessing. I need it today.”

I looked over at him and saw a man asking for help, pleading in his eyes with a rough exterior.

I said, “Okay, I’ll be there in just a bit.”

Tank was only half full.

I stopped pumping.

“I probably need a smaller tank to fill,” I thought.

I walked over to him.

He turned to face me, straightening his body he let go of the pump.

I stood in front of him.

Is it okay for me to lay my hands on you?

He said, “of course.”

I placed my hands on his shoulder, I felt the softness of his shirt, flannel made soft through work and many washings.

I spoke a short prayer.

I made the sign of the cross upon his forehead.

He crossed himself.

He thanked me and I was soon on my way.

Later that day, I was finishing up in the church.

I had been working on our streaming set up and it’s pretty much close to being done.

Now we need some volunteers to work the board and we can start livestreaming our services.

So, if you would like to help out, please let me know.

Anyway.

I had some boxes to put into recycling so I was carrying those and trying to get out the front doors at the same time.

I did so fine but my hands were certainly full.

As I descended the steps, a woman walking by made eye contact with me.

She stopped and asked, “Are you the priest at this church?”

“I am.”

(And oh, how joyful it felt to answer in the affirmative!)

She said, “I used to be an Episcopalian. I am thinking about joining again.”

“Wonderful!”

And she asked about services and I told when we worship and she’d be welcome anytime.

Thanking me, we parted ways; me to the recycling bin, she continuing on down Main Street.

I need to point out these two stories with a visitation in between happened on the very same day, Friday in fact.

Friends, the Spirit is among us.

And she flies just outside these doors, inside them of course, and especially just outside!

Outside on Main Street and at the gas station.

Outside.

Right in front of this church, the Spirit is in South Glastonbury and the Spirit is in this place!

And there is such joy in those words.

There is such comfort in knowing we are in the presence of the holy, that we are in the presence of God and Christ Jesus.

And we enjoy that closeness and comfort as a congregation, together, with love and compassion for each other.

Love and compassion with those who would walk through those doors; love and compassion for those we serve outside of them.

Friends, the Spirit flying in this place.

So then why the woes?

This morning, Jesus tells us blessed are the poor but woe to the rich.

And woe too to those who are not poor?

We hear, blessed are those who are hungry and woe to those who are filled.

And woe too to those who have enough?

Blessed are those who laugh but woe to those who are laughing now.

And woe too to those who but carry no sadness?

What of the in-betweeners here, what of those who are living their lives day to day, just…living?

Is Jesus telling us we are due for a comeuppance as well for some of us might not be poor, might not be hungry, might just be happy?

How and where do we find ourselves in this story?

We are amongst the Spirit, we can feel her presence, we witness her workings in so many ways here at St. Luke’s, Lord are we the focus of your woes?

Woe to us, Lord?

Woe to me?

I don’t think so, no, I do not think so.

Let us look where this story takes place, it is known as the Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain for a reason, Jesus is speaking on a level place, he is neither above the multitudes as he was in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount nor is he speaking from a boat, projecting upwards to those gathered on the lakeshore as we heard last week.

Jesus is on the same level with his disciples and not just the twelve disciples but a great crowd who came to him for healing and a release of their troubles.

Jesus is not lording over his followers, he is not levitating above them, he is not in this scenario God on high, he is with them, amongst them.

In the crowd he feels their troubles, with them he cleans them of their demons.

There is no hierarchy here.

Yes, Jesus heals, he does what he is called to do, but there is no top down structure in this location; all are in the same place, all are on the same level, all are on the same plain.

And in the crowd, I am sure there are rich and I am sure there are poor and I am sure there are those who are in between.

So, maybe Jesus’ woes are addressing those who are not poor, but those who would set themselves apart from the crowd, this crowd on a level plain.

Perhaps Jesus is talking about those who would sit on their piles of wealth rather than share in generosity and of their own volition such wealth.

It is on this level plain where we are holy in our togetherness.

It is not a place of extremes, of great accumulations of wealth to the detriment of others, but a level place.

Christ’s place for us is not a place of food desserts and hunger but one where all are fed.

It is not a place where joy and laughter lift but certain parties out of the doldrums but one where all are able to experience the joy of what it means live in the fulness of life.

For our excess does not make us exceptional in the eyes of God; our laughter, our food, our wealth is to be shared with those who weep and with those who go hungry and with those without the means to heat their homes and purchase proper coats in the winter.

Friends, we meet Christ in the in-between on a level plain that is neither mountain of excess or valley of sorrow.

We meet Christ in our works and in a faith that tells us specifically that we are to lift up the poor onto this plain, feed those who are to be brought onto this level place.

We are not one single, homogenous group.

We are not a singularity.

Instead, we are born of many different experiences, various, individual threads in the same bit of fabric; this is not a sermon about us losing our individual gifts and giving up that what defines each of us as a child of God.

It is a sermon though where we must truly confront that which Christ is warning us away from: we are responsible for the woes we will experience if we hoard our wealth and hold back our joy.

And on this level plain and in our present time, it is so important for us to share our joy.

Woe to us who experience laughter and do not share it.

Woe to us who leave this church and do not share the joy given to us through our faith in Christ.

Friends, I’m just one guy and on two occasions on a single day within six hours of each other I was given the opportunity to share in the power of the Spirit with those looking for God, for prayer, for a sense of well-being.

And to realize the promise of the plain on which Jesus speaks, to make it a reality, to realize the togetherness the multitude must have felt when they heard Jesus speak, to share in the very joy that Jesus provides for all us, we must share that joy and share that togetherness.

For in Christ we are all loved and we are all loved the same: wholly, completely, and without exception.

So the challenge becomes how will you share your joy, your food, your wealth, yourself?

With whom will you share the Spirit?

With whom will you share your table?

How will you share your riches?

It is not, “Should I share such things” but how and with whom?

For who we lift up, we make level.

When we feed those who hunger, they brought up onto this plain.

In this sermon we hear so much about blessings and woes and yet it is in the in between, on this level place along with Jesus and along with each where we find ourselves in this story.

Find your gas station; share your blessing.

Find the bottom of your steps and help bring the searching home.

Amen.