| "An Advent struggle between the compassion of God and the pride of a politician is being waged on the northwest corner of 5th Avenue and 55th Street. Indeed this particular dispute-just the kind pointed to in both of this morning's Scripture Lessons-has been taking place at that corner off and on for the past three years." It was on the Third Sunday of Advent, 1998, when the lectionary led us to focus on these same two Bible passages, that I introduced you to this situation in a sermon entitled "Soft Robes and Shaking Reeds." Today I present the sequel, so let me first set again for you the biblical and contemporary scenes and then describe for you the latest episode in this struggle between our sister congregation, The Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, and a certain "high-up" politician. In our Second Lesson for the Third Sunday of Advent, Jesus turns to the assembled crowds and uses two images to symbolize the ruler Herod Antipas in contrast to the prophet John the Baptist-the images of "soft robes" and "shaking reeds." You see, Herod Antipas was the velvet-clad ruler of Galilee-home to Jesus-and of Perea-home to the camel's hair-clad John the Baptist. And Herod had taken as one of the symbols of his political authority the image of a reed, a plant native to the banks of the Jordan River, the region where John was preaching to the populace and excoriating their leaders and rulers. After a while, Herod had had enough of that kind of talk. He charged John with sedition and imprisoned him in the fortress of Machaerus, in the mountain-wilderness east of the Dead Sea. As Jesus saw it, soft-robed Herod was a reed who was continuously bending and shaking in the political winds coming from Rome, the capital of the empire by whose sufferance Herod ruled. In contrast, rough-robed John was one who was standing firm, unbending and unshakeable, a prophet who was representing the realm of God over against the empire of Rome-the realm of God, in which the well-being of the poor and the dispossessed was being actively sought. It's this realm of God, in contrast to that of any human ruler, that our First Lesson celebrates. Psalm 146 expresses pessimism about human rulers but praises the sovereign God, "who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry," who "sets free the prisoners [like John the Baptist];" who "opens the eyes of the blind… lifts up those who are bowed down;… watches over the strangers;… [and] upholds the orphan and the widow." It is God who "will reign forever"-not Caesar, and certainly not Herod Antipas. It is God whose reign John the Baptist has come to proclaim. It is God of whom Jesus, as the Christ, is the incarnation. And, in our Second Lesson, we find Jesus establishing his identity as the Christ by doing the work that characterizes God-the work of healing the blind, the deaf, and the lame; the work of cleansing the lepers; the work of bringing good news to the poor. So today's Second Lesson contrasts God's reign to Herod's, and it asks all of us who call ourselves disciples of Jesus to dissociate ourselves from the Herods of this world, from those soft robes who place the interests of the elite ahead of the well-being of the poor. Today's lesson calls on us who identify ourselves as disciples of Jesus to continue the work of Jesus, to fulfill here and now the work of the Christ of God, the work of God's realm on earth-the work of righting every wrong and healing every infirmity. But New York City-where we live and work-is certainly a place where the realms of Herod and of God compete for our allegiance, where the value of humble fidelity to Christ is challenged by the allure of physical comfort and political influence, where humble fidelity to Christ is all-too-easily co-opted by the soft robe of economic well-being and the shaking reed of accommodation to power. Now "humble fidelity to the work of Christ on behalf of the poor" is a huge topic, worthy of a lifetime of sermons. Yet in this sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent, I will focus, as I did three years ago, on just one aspect of God's concern for the poor, and I will do so by continuing to tell the true story that I began three years ago, a story about one street corner in New York City, a story that will, I hope, prompt each of us to consider how we may fulfill the work of the Christ of God without becoming "soft robes" and "shaking reeds." And as you listen, I invite you to be reminded by the lighting of our third Advent candle that we will soon be encountering the Christ-child lying not in a home, not in a motel room, and probably not even in a stable, but rather outdoors, in a manger, in an outside feeding trough for animals. So as we prepare ourselves to greet the homeless Christ-child, asleep outside in the hay, let us meet some of the homeless persons of New York City, asleep outside in their cardboard boxes-people like Cowboy, Little Bill, Veronica, Judy, Thank You, and Big Dennis. It's 9:00 p.m. last Tuesday night, December 11th, on Fifth Avenue, the most fashionable, soft-robed street in New York City. Fifteen rough-clad homeless people are once again preparing to take shelter on the steps of the church where my wife Margaret works-The Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church. Around the corner on West 55th Street, tucked into the bays of the church building that line the sidewalk, another twenty people or so are setting up their cardboard. This section of the street lies in full view of the entrance to one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. The fifteen on the front steps and the twenty in the sidewalk bays are but thirty-five out of 25,000 or more "street homeless" in New York City, the homeless who each night sleep on the streets and in the parks, on the subway trains, and under the viaducts. This number does not include the 25,000 or so other homeless persons who sleep in beds provided by the shelter system. The Fifth Avenue Church has for fifteen years cooperated with the Partnership for the Homeless to operate a seven-day-a-week shelter for homeless persons, accommodating ten men inside each night, the maximum allowed by fire regulations. We at Rutgers are part of that same network of sheltering churches and synagogues.For the past three years Fifth Avenue has also ministered to the homeless who come to sleep on the church's front steps on 5th Avenue and in their sidewalk bays on 55th Street. Most of the homeless have come to the street from one of three places: from a prison; from a hospital or mental institution; or from a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. They've "graduated," so to speak, and can't stay where they were, but they have no job, no place to live, no support network of any kind. They've not been given the help they need to make the transition from life in an institution to self-sufficiency. This street ministry at The Fifth Avenue Church began with Margaret's working with the congregation first to make eye contact with the homeless and smile, next to stop to chat and learn people's names, and then to develop a bond of friendship and trust. Fifth Avenue calls this their "Befriending Ministry." After trust has been developed, the congregation tries to help their homeless friends take the next step in their lives-to get off the street. Last January, the church hired an outreach worker, Joe Vedella, now three years sober and living in an apartment in the Bronx. But he knows what homelessness is all about, for he spent eight years in jail for drug possession and after that was homeless for three years. Fifth Avenue has also become increasingly involved in Habitat for Humanity and other projects designed to increase the number of units of low income housing available in our city. In the past eleven months, Joe and Margaret working together have helped seventy-seven persons get off the street, and they've helped countless others take their first steps to self-sufficient living. And they've been able to do this because the congregation has been practicing a hospitality of space. They let the street homeless sleep on their property and use their bathroom facilities, and they give them a cup of hot coffee and a muffin when they awake at 5:00 am and start out their new day. But then came November 28th. Two reporters for the New York Post printed an article lamenting the increased visibility of homeless people on the streets. A caption in the article called the situation "just like the bad old days," i.e., before this mayor took office. The reporters noted in particular that "Late Saturday night, dozens of homeless men and women slept in the doorways at two Fifth Avenue churches between 53rd and 55th streets-so many, in fact, that they spilled out on to the sidewalk." Please understand that these reporters published this article without any analysis of why there's an increase in visible homelessness and without ever interviewing anyone at The Fifth Avenue Church to ask what work they're doing with and for the homeless people sleeping on their property. In the aftermath of that article, someone (quote) "high-up downtown" called Inspector Healy of the Mid-Manhattan North police precinct and told him to remove all of the homeless from the steps of The Fifth Avenue Church even if they are on private property. And that's what the precinct police have proceeded to do, in direct contravention of at least three standing policies of the Department of Homeless Services and of a three-year-old agreement between the church and that department that the homeless sleeping on church property and under the principle of a church's extension of sanctuary were not to be bothered and harassed by the police. Beginning November 29th, intense conversations and negotiations between Inspector Healy and the church staff began, during which time the church advised their homeless friends to sleep elsewhere until the matter got settled. Always the Inspector was asked what laws were being violated. Always he offered no response, except to say that he was under orders from "high-up." At last the Inspector agreed that the homeless could continue to sleep on church property if they didn't arrive before 8:00 pm. So the homeless returned to their places outside the church. But then at 2:00 am, Tuesday, December 4th, the police arrived unannounced and removed all thirty-five homeless people sleeping on the property of The Fifth Avenue Church. The next night the homeless returned, and there were no further police actions, unless, of course, you count the fact that six police hovered ominously at the curb all night long while plainclothes detectives drove by with their video cameras rolling. Most of the police told the church staff that they didn't really like what they'd been sent to do but, of course, they had to do it anyway-orders! Then, a week later, on Tuesday of this past week, December 11th, a high-level meeting took place at the precinct house with representatives of the city, the police, and the church. And after that meeting, at 5:00 pm, Inspector Healy called Margaret to say that the matter had been resolved. The homeless would no longer be bothered since the church had agreed both to ask them to arrive after 9:00 pm and to let Homeless Outreach officers talk with them about available city services. So, as I began this story, it's now 9:00 p.m. that same Tuesday night, December 11th, at the corner of 5th Avenue and West 55th Street. Thirty-five rough-clad homeless people are once again preparing to take shelter on the steps and in the sidewalk bays of the church. As they arrive, Margaret assures them that the matter has been settled and that Inspector Healy has told her they may sleep in peace. Margaret, feeling much relieved, then leaves them and heads home to join me. But at midnight, five police cars and three vans arrive. The police remove all the homeless on 55th Street and hassle those on the front steps, coming again at 1 am, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, and 5 am, each time ascending the church steps and rapping their nightsticks loudly on the cardboard boxes while asking the people if they are in good health or if they want to be taken to the hospital. The next night, Wednesday, the homeless return as usual, at 9:00 pm, to find the precinct police back in force-lots of cars and twenty-two uniforms, about half of whom were sergeants, lieutenants, and captains (really top brass)! Eight have taken their stance side by side at the foot of the church steps, forbidding anyone to mount them. The others, handcuffs at the ready, begin to clear the sidewalk area, threatening to arrest any of the homeless, and the church staff, who do not leave. Again a number of the police mutter that they really don't want to do this. Again no one can explain what laws are being broken. Again the intimations are clear that the orders being given come from a person in the city administration of great power and authority, at the very top. Well, the next morning, Thursday, the church's Board of Trustees hire a lawyer, and he, assisted by the Coalition for the Homeless and the New York Civil Liberties Union, begins to prepare legal action. Through Friday, that preparation continues, as do negotiations to return to the previous status quo with the police. On Friday night, about forty members of The Fifth Avenue Church host the long-scheduled indoor Christmas Party for their homeless friends, complete with complimentary food by Marriott and carefully selected, individually addressed Christmas presents. Margaret arrives late for the party, having been caught up in a full day of legal activity and negotiations, but she is able to announce to the homeless guests that for this weekend, at least, homeless persons may once again be welcomed and may once again receive help on the steps of The Fifth Avenue Church. Yes, Christ's work of accomplishing well-being for the poor may once again happen on the northwest corner of 5th Avenue and 55th Street-at least for one more weekend. As promised, Friday and Saturday nights are quiet and fairly normal-if one can call "fairly normal" Margaret's meeting up with Inspector Healy outside the church at dawn on Saturday morning as each of them checks up on their flocks-the thirty-five homeless and the six police, eyeing each other nervously. But beyond this weekend, the situation is not resolved, and I fully expect the church to have to be in court sometime this next week to defend its right to conduct a ministry of Christ on its property, a ministry of hospitality through which, you'll remember, seventy-seven persons have so far this year found the help they needed to get off the streets and countless others have taken their first steps toward the sense of self-worth essential to any successful therapy or rehabilitation. Yes, many have come to know that God loves them at least as much as God loves the rich and powerful. I ask you to follow the breaking news on this story this coming week. For in the days ahead, I believe, Presbyterians in New York City will need to decide whether it is to the Christ of the poor or to soft-robed rulers like Herod that we give our primary allegiance. Let us pray: |
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