Halloween was not all scary. After all, my niece Tenny, gave birth to a rather large baby boy on Halloween. William Casey McCullough weighed in at 10 pounds 11 ounces. Pumpkins come in all sizes, and this one will grow.

Halloween was not all scary, but there’s a lot that is scary this year. What do I find scary? What am I afraid of?

Well, I suppose I could be afraid of being in New York, but here I am, and here we are on this glorious marathon Sunday. I suppose I could be afraid of the tunnels, but I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel just this morning, and I’ll do it again. I suppose I could be afraid of taking the subway, but I go down under almost every day. I suppose I could be afraid of trekking to Rockefeller Center when that tree goes up, but I’ll be there with relish. I suppose I could be afraid of getting that lumpy letter with no return address, but I’ll continue to pick up my mail and go to the post office. I suppose I could be afraid of going to any of our city’s hospitals, but how else can I visit you when you need to be there?

Let me tell you what I am afraid of. I’m afraid of not staying long enough with my grief from September 11 and letting it then catapult me when I least expect it. I’m afraid of venting my rage–a natural response to any grief–in vicarious gratification at the bombing of an amorphous enemy. I’m afraid of the loss of hope for people who live on the outskirts of hope when an International Red Cross facility ends up in ashes. I’m afraid of rationalizing my need for control in a unilateral policy that says it’s up to us–the U.S. us–to wipe out international terrorism. I’m afraid when B-52s take off and advisors move in. I’m afraid of too many choruses of "God Bless America." I’m afraid of the idea that God takes sides. I’m afraid that we’ll lose sight in this country and even this church of what we can really do to touch peace.

But I believe–I really do believe–that faith works. And I know there are choices before us today of how we can work our faith.

Today is our Faith Works Volunteer Fair. It’s held in Reidy Friendship Hall during coffee hour, and I invite you to come and check out the options. We can do something about gun control, nuclear disarmament, and anti-racism. We can tutor and mentor small-fry New Yorkers, serve meals to hungry neighbors, advance prison reform, work to abolish the death penalty, build our community of worship and thanksgiving, link with our wider community of faith. We can discover more about our neighbors local and global and act in partnership with them to narrow that gap between privilege and poverty. Faith works in ways that remind us just how connected we all are. The Universalism that is so central to our faith shatters the myth of US and THEM. Our faith working is our bold and soulful response to what happened on 9/11.

If we stay with our grief long enough, if we look deeply into what’s really scary, if we do the soulful work of seeking to understand whoever we deem the Other, if we move from one nation under God to one planet graced by the miracle of life, one universe in which we’re all connected and know it and live it, then there’s a chance, just a chance that we might touch peace and undermine the need to be afraid. There’s a chance, just a chance, that we might mean it when we welcome William Casey into this world and when we welcome the arrival of Dennis and Kristina’s daughter, each a bundle of evidence that miracles are possible and that with a healthy vine, a very large healthy vine, pumpkins grow. Amen.

 

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