Won't You Be My Neighbor

Who is my neighbor, the man asked, in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen. Please be seated.

How would you respond if someone asked you to be a neighbor?

Perhaps you might ask, how much does it cost?

Do I have to take care of your Amazon deliveries? Do I have to pick you up at

the airport or take out your dogs?

This question was asked regularly by Fred Rogers on public television during the late 1960s.

Fred was, of course, Mr. Rogers.

He was a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and an ordained Presbyterian minister.

He would start his show with his song, It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,

while dunning his signature red cardigan and changing into comfortable boat shoes.

His song ended with the invitation, Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Being one's neighbor in the ancient Jewish world was complicated.

Judaism was fundamentally tribal in nature, which in and of itself is quite divisive.

There were twelve different tribes, each with its own unique customs.

In ancient times, there was differences in social structure,

leadership, and levels of interaction with the other tribes.

There were even language differences. Little is known of conversions to Judaism ancient times,

although there are accounts of non-Jews moving into Jewish communities and accepting

Jewish traditions and customs.

The book of Ruth in the Hebrew Bible tells the story of Ruth,

a Moabite woman who adopts Jewish traditions with the enthusiastic exclamation,

Your people are my people, and your God is my God.

Today's Gospel reading concerns the familiar parable of the Good Samaritan.

We all know the story by heart. A man falls victim to robbers,

Jews of his own tribes, even holy men, pass him by to leave him neglected,

while a Samaritan stops to care for the man.

Samaritans were people of mixed genealogy. They had their own religious traditions,

beliefs, and even a separate temple on Mount Gerizim.

Jews were worshipped at the temple in Jerusalem, considered Samaritans' second-class citizens.

The idea that a Samaritan would take great care of someone of another tribe,

someone who probably hated Samaritans, would have been a radical message to

its first-century audience.

It's poetic irony. It's about being neighborly to someone who doesn't consider you a neighbor.

Who is my neighbor? the man asked.

Dana and I just returned from Cashers, where we celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary.

Over the weekend, my thoughts turned to another wedding we attended about 10 years ago.

One of my pleasant duties in New York was to act as the chaplain of a small

boating organization on Long Island.

One day, another member, who was a Jewish cantor, came to me and asked if I could help her out.

She was scheduled to officiate at the wedding of two younger members to be married

in accordance with the Jewish right.

But the man was not Jewish, and the woman only nominally Jewish,

and not a practicing member of any synagogue.

The cantor told me she couldn't officiate because of the couple's lack of Jewish commitment.

She asked me whether I might take her place in an officiate in her stead.

I was acquainted with the couple. They weren't members of the Episcopal Church.

They weren't members of my parish. They weren't members of my tribe.

I had no obligation to them. But they wanted to have God represented in their

marriage by a member of the clergy.

And for whatever reason, the Spirit spoke to me.

I felt called to be with them on this important of occasions.

They needed to lean on me. In a way, I think I needed to lean on them.

After conferring with my bishop, I agreed to officiate.

Together, we crafted a service that was both Christian and Jewish in tradition.

But the woman had one request, one odd request, that caught me quite by surprise.

She asked, "'Do you have to wear those funny clothes?'.

Well, I showed up for the wedding ceremony wearing a blue suit and a tie.

About 150 people were in anxious attendance.

I witnessed the couple taking their vows to each other in accordance with the

book of common prayer, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,

in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,

until parted by death.

My homily centered on the book of Ruth One of the bridesmaids recited the traditional

Jewish wedding blessings The groom stomped on a virtual wine glass Which was

actually a light bulb Wrapped in a white napkin as suggested by various websites You see,

it makes a nice loud pop And you don't have to worry about technical difficulties

About breaking a stubborn glass wine, right?

Everyone responded with a resounding Mazel Tov.

On the following morning, to my surprise, the New York Times featured this wedding

as their lead story in the Sunday Styles section.

The New York Times described the ceremony as a joyous mixture of Christian and Jewish traditions.

Who is my neighbor, the man asked. The Episcopal Church has a long and proud

tradition of inclusion.

We cultivate neighbors easily. Our wife, Dana, and I moved here mostly for geographical reasons.

We didn't know a soul.

But we put our faith in the church, confident that through the church,

we would find neighbors of a faithful community.

And our prayerful expectations have been exceeded by the welcoming people of Trinity Parish.

Dana and I are very, very grateful for your kindness.

It is easy to include newcomers in our worship.

It's easy to invite newcomers into our neighborhood and make them feel welcome.

But there's another step.

Being a neighbor is more than attending services. It requires an emotional investment

in being part of the community, the mystical body of Christ.

It requires an emotional commitment to each other and to our parish institution.

And it is Christ's love for us that serves as the foundation for this emotional

tie that binds us all together.

It is Christ's love that gives us the freedom to pray for one another,

to be present for one another, and to lean on one another.

Lauren Garcia knows about making an emotional investment.

Lauren is a former camper and counselor at Camp Mystic, Texas,

that was devastated last week by a flash flooding, leaving more than 120 people dead in its wake.

The tragedy affected not just those who were at the camp, it affected the greater

community of all those who had an emotional tie to the camp.

Lauren is part of that greater community Lauren said My heart is broken,

It was devastating for so many families I can't even put it into words,

I think this community needs each other We are leaning on each other On our

faith and the love that we shared at the camp,

That's what Camp Mystic taught us to lean on each other.

And that's what neighbors do. We lean on each other.

Through thick and thin, through good times as well as bad, we lean on each other in love.

Each week we pray for things that we feel in our hearts.

We pray for those in need. And we pray for those who are celebrating.

When one laughs, we all laugh. And when one cries,

we all cry Like an old married couple, we are committed emotionally in this

messy life together For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer,

in sickness and in health We are emotionally one, one body of Christ.

Whether you are a newcomer or someone who has worshipped here since childhood,

we would all do well to invest emotionally more deeply into our lives together.

In these times, especially in these times,

this holy place may be the only place where we can surrender all our troubled

emotions to our loving God in confidence that we will never be rejected and

that our prayers will always be answered.

It's time to reaffirm our love for one another and this parish.

Let us love like we've never loved before and let us make a deeper emotional

investment together as one body of Christ.

So what do you say?

Will you join with me in this journey we call life?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Amen.

Thanks for listening to 60 Church Street, a podcast of Trinity Episcopal Church

in Asheville, North Carolina.

Now, go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

The homily was offered by the

Rev. Robert Zito. Musical contributions were performed by Dr. Kevin Seal.

Introduction and closing reflections were shared by the Rev. Amy Peterson.

Sermon audio was prepared by Nanette Popa. Production was guided by Karen Marie Frederiksen