Do not be afraid: A sermon on El Paso, Dayton, Immigrants and the Treasures of Heaven

Jesus said to his disciples, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” And then he says, “Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Do not be afraid. It is the most repeated phrase in the Bible. 

But... it is not easy in a world like ours. It is not easy, sometimes, a lot of times, not to be afraid. Last weekend, our nation suffered two more mass shootings. In El Paso, Texas, a gunman broke into a mall and targeted Mexicans and people of Hispanic descent, killing 22. Just because he thought they didn’t belong in this country. Because he thought they didn’t deserve to live. Because his heart and soul were infected by racism, and because he had access to weapons that can kill. Less than 24 hours later, in Dayton, Ohio, another gunman killed 9. His motivation is less clear, but it seems that his heart was infected by sexism and misogyny. He was suspended in high school for making a "rape list" of classmates he wanted to sexually assault. He even killed his own sister.

Then, on Wednesday this week, the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement raided a number of food processing plants, detaining as many as 680 undocumented workers. The single largest ICE raid in US history. Notably, it came on the first day of school. So that when kids came home, their parents were gone. The employers weren’t arrested for hiring undocumented workers, just the people working in hot smelly jobs that most of us would not want.

I have to be honest. I don’t see Jesus in any of this. I don’t see Jesus in guns, whether automatic or semi-automatic, or even handguns. And I don’t see Jesus in separating children from their parents, and tearing people away from their work, their homes, and their communities. For a nation that claims to live “under God, with liberty and justice for all” we have a lot to learn. About justice. About liberty. About America. And most especially about God.

Did you notice, in our first reading from Isaiah, that it mentioned the infamous cities of Sodom and Gomorrah? Cities destroyed for their sinful ways. It has long been assumed that those sins were sexual, and often people have understood it to be about homosexuality in particular. But that’s not the perspective of the Bible. When, in the Old Testament, as in Isaiah, these places of greatest sin and abomination are mentioned, it is in relation to how they (and we) treat people. How we treat strangers and those in need. How we show hospitality.

Hear, again, what Isaiah says: “Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”  For Isaiah, for Jesus, and for us, this is the path to life, to blessedness, to receiving the kingdom that God intends for us. Not through guns, not through racism, misogyny, xenophobia, and so much else that infects human hearts, but justice, rescue for the oppressed, support for the most vulnerable in our midst.

In fact, as Isaiah clearly says, God does not even want our “thoughts and prayers” if they are not accompanied by justice and care for the most vulnerable: for immigrants, for strangers, for widows, orphans, and anyone who is oppressed: “Bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination to me. New moon and sabbath and calling of convocation--I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity…. When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; your hands are full of blood.”

Jesus said: “Do not be afraid.” And then he said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” They go together, I think. Refusing fear. Turning away from it, and then setting our hearts on the things of God. On the people of God—the wonderful, beautiful, extraordinary people that God has made. Of every language, race, color, background, orientation, and ability.

One of the ways that I believe we set our hearts on the people of God, is by hearing their story. So, here are some of the stories of the people of God. (Adapted from the Washington Post article). 

For Jordan (aged 24) and Andre Anchondo (aged 23) of El Paso, Saturday was meant to be a day of celebration. The couple had just marked their first wedding anniversary. In 2018, Andre left the family auto-repair business to set up his own shop, Andre House of Granite and Stone. In his free time, he built a house for his young family, laboring under the Texas sun hours at a time. Jordan was a stay-at-home mom. The couple was ready to show off their new house. Friends and family were invited to a big party, but the Anchondos never made it. Jordan’s sister said that based on their baby’s injuries, it appeared that she died while trying to shield the 2 month old from the shooter. “He pretty much lived because she gave her life,” her sister said.

Elsa Mendoza, aged 57, was a teacher and school principal who lived and worked in Mexico. She was in El Paso visiting family. She stopped by Walmart to pick up a few things from the grocery section, leaving her husband and son in the car. She never emerged from the store.

Her expertise was in special education, but she was principal of an elementary school with a range of students. She was known for her optimism. “Mendoza “used to say, ‘Things done with love are done better,’ and she was always ready to help."

Javier Rodriguez, aged 15, was among the youngest killed in El Paso. He was just weeks away from starting his sophomore year of high school. “He was such a loving boy,” his aunt, said. Soccer was a major part of Javier’s routine at in school. He came to school early to play with friends, skip lunch to practice with the varsity girls team, and then head off to his own junior varsity training in the afternoon. “This boy was like as an energy bunny,” his coach said. "And for him, it was nothing but soccer.”

Gloria Márquez, 61, was born in Mexico and moved to the U.S. more than two decades ago. Her first two children were born in Mexico, her second two in the States. “The kids were everything to her,” said John Ogaz, her companion of 11 years. When Ogaz, a US citizen born in El Paso, met Márquez, he was living in a trailer. Márquez earned a modest income as a health care assistant for elderly patients and helped him move into a home. They considered each other husband and wife, though they never formally married. They lived together in El Paso, surrounded by children and grandchildren. On Saturday, Ogaz and Márquez went to Walmart together. They split up minutes before the shooter entered the building, she heading to the ATM and he waiting for her at McDonald’s. For five hours, he called her phone from the parking lot.

At 90 years old, Luis Juarez had lived the American Dream. He immigrated to the United States, became a citizen, bought a home and made a career as an iron worker. He and his wife of 70 years, Martha, raised a family that included seven children, 20 grandchildren, 35 great-grandchildren and eight great-great-grandchildren. Before retiring, he had helped erect many buildings in El Paso and Los Angeles. Luis’s family remembered him as generous, understanding, hard-working and curious. “We are celebrating the life of an American who served to build our country,” his family said. They expected him to live to 100. “We were looking forward to many more years and that was stolen away from us,” the family said.

The stories of those killed in Dayton, Ohio are equally moving. Students, parents, friends out for a night together. (Details here). To say nothing of those detained last week in the immigration raids, people looking for a better, safer, more secure life for themselves and their children.

I don’t know what the answer is to the increasingly disheartening and even frightening time in which we live. I don’t know how we respond to Jesus command, “Do be afraid, Little flock.” Unless it means that we are being called to turn our backs on the fear that leads to racism and sexism. Turn our backs on the fear that leads us to rely on guns for our safety. And, turn our backs on the fear that leads us to think that there is only room here—in the church, in the country, in human life, for those who are somehow like us.

We are called to turn our backs on all of these, which like moth and rust destroy our nation and eat away at our souls. And instead, we are called to store up for ourselves the treasures of heaven. The treasures of life—and not only for us, but for all whom God has created and loves. When we do, I believe we will discover that there’s no end to the possibilities in life, and no limit to the joy and love and abundance offered us. God offers us even the whole of the kingdom of God.

Jesus said to his disciples, "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

To God be the glory: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.     

© The Rev. Matthew P. Cadwell, PhD

You are the Light of the World: A Homily for Cathy Conboy, Psy.D.

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus said. “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” 

These are words that have inspired Christians for 2000 years. In 1990, they inspired Cathy and Mark, who chose them as the gospel reading for their wedding. And now, today, they inspire us as we come together in love to celebrate Cathy’s extraordinary life, and entrust her to God arms.

Cathy most certainly was, and still is, a bright light in a world that sometimes can seem very dark. And like the light that Jesus called her and us all to be, Cathy shone not to exalt or draw attention to herself, but to give life and hope to others—to her family and friends, to her patients, and to many she helped but never met. 

Cathy understood, probably better than most, that we need to summon the strength and the courage to embrace each day and each moment (and sometimes wrestle with each day and moment), to wring every drop of life from the time, the relationships and the abundant gifts we have been given. Cathy understood that if we are to be lights to the world, whatever our challenges, we can’t stay hidden away, in a room or under a bushel basket as Jesus says, but rather out and alive, burning brightly for others to see.

Of the many stories that Mark, Mary, and Alice shared with me, a few stand out as being the epitome of Cathy. The first, is how Mark and Cathy met—their first day in grad school, back in 1984, standing in line waiting to register. That night they went on a double date to a disco kind of place. Mark asked Cathy if she wanted to dance. Only she said, “I don’t dance.” So, Mark asked if she wanted a drink. Only she said, “I don’t drink beer.” Then he said, “You don’t have much fun, do you?” Not the successful first date.

In fact, they got in a fight and didn’t see or talk to each other for several months. Until they realized that for them there were no better matches out there. Whatever spark they felt in that first meeting was still there. So, thankfully, they tried again. Anyone who knew Cathy, even later in life, can recognize her in that story. She could be stormy and opinionated. She had strong feelings about, well, practically everything. And she had a spark, a light, that shone in the darkness.

When I asked Mark what he might say about Cathy’s impact on him, he thought for a while and then shared this: “what I admired the most about Cathy was her strong will. She is one of the few people who have been consistently able to stand up to me and get me to change my mind or do something I didn’t originally want to… especially when we disagreed about matters she felt were important. She stood her ground.” And then he added, “By being her partner and supporting her I could help the world (animals, children, the poor, the needy, promote cruelty free cosmetics, recycling, condemn mean spirited politics, etc.)…. Being her husband made me a better, more complete person.” That’s quite the testimony. Quite the legacy. Quite the light.   

Mary and Alice, I think it’s hard for children, of any age, to know how much your mom loves you. How devoted she was to you. Even before she met you. I don’t think any daughters could possibly be more cherished and valued than you have been. Your mom and dad traveled across the world to find you, to meet you, and give you a home—not only here in Massachusetts, but most importantly in their hearts, in your mom’s heart. Mary, from a video sent from Russia, you enchanted your parents with your personality. And Alice, you started out undernourished, and look at you now. Look at both of you now—so beautiful, so stylish and poised, with so much life ahead of you.

I was so deeply moved to hear how Mary, your first morning with your mom, in St. Petersburg, was Mother’s Day. She awoke that Mother’s Day as a mom, for the first time. And the last day you both shared with her was also Mother’s Day—a visit she awaited with such anticipation. She didn’t want you to see how sick she was. But she did want you to know how much she loved you, and loves you still. You were the lights in your mother’s life. The brightest stars in her sky. She didn’t have as much time with you as she would have wanted, but she certainly prepared you for your own lives—so that you, too, can be lights to the world. Allow her to shine through you. If you live like she lived, if you love like she loved, if you care like she cared, you mom’s legacy will be long and bright. So very bright, just like you.

We shouldn’t forget that Cathy was also a person of deep faith. Church was important to her. This church. Where she worshipped and raised her girls. Over the past decade she organized the acolytes (not an easy job sometimes—but two of her acolyte alumni, John and Ian, are serving with us today, a testament to her ministry). She participated in weekly adult education sessions—sometimes arguing with me about theological topics, and sold plants and flowers to support refugees. She organized a yard sale which raised over $2000 to support the people of Syria in the most war-torn area of the world. And most recently, she was deeply concerned about the plight of immigrants at the border.

Cathy’s faith shaped her worldview. It also, I think, gave her courage as she lived with her complex health. Each week we quietly prayed for healing as she came to the rail for Communion. And while her lupus wasn’t cured through those prayers, she was strengthened to meet each new day. Firm, I think, in the knowledge that her life was always in God’s hands—the same God who created her and lit that spark of life in her soul.

And just as Cathy came here each week in faith, so we come today. In faith and trust. Firm in the belief, and not just belief, but the knowledge, that Cathy’s lives still. That she is still in God’s hands. And even more, she alive now, and forever, at the center of God’s heart. Waiting for us, of course, for that time when we are reunited. And in the meantime, she is there encouraging us, inspiring us, to continue her work and share in her passions and convictions: for children and refugees, immigrants and victims of war. For animals and our fragile, broken and beautiful earth. For all those who have no one to defend them. All this from her place at the center of God’s heart.

All goodbyes are hard. And this one especially. Cathy was too young. Her family, depended on her too much. Her friends and her church, too. I miss her. I miss her smile. Her laugh. Her honest and unvarnished opinions. But most especially her caring. Her deep love for everyone, and her passion for justice. She leaves a whole in our hearts. And yet, we know through the example of her life and her faith, her strength and fortitude, that she would want us all to live. That she would want us, like her, to wring every drop of life we can out of the time we have. Enjoying music and the Jersey shore. Loving our families and friends. Caring for the earth and its people. Trusting in the promises of God. Promises that for Cathy are fulfilled.

Jesus said, “You are the light of the world… Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Cathy answered that call. She lived it. And now, today, from God’s heart, she shines through us, so that we too might bring light to others. Let’s do exactly that. Let’s make her proud and shine a light of hope in the world that is very dark.

To God be the glory: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.    

© The Rev. Matthew P. Cadwell, PhD