FROM THE PASTOR
Wait for the Light
In Advent we wait for the light…
A sign above the door tells you to “wait for the light” when you get off the bus in Manhattan. But when you get off the bus on the Lower East Side the sign is also in Spanish and says, “espere la luz.” In English, “wait” is not as rich, lush and romantic as the Spanish “esperar,” which means to wait, hope, expect and anticipate all at once. The light for which we wait is Jesus Christ. And we not only wait for the light, but hope for it, anticipate it, work toward it, and long for it. Esperanza! As Christians we wait and work for the light, the light of Jesus born in Bethlehem, born each day into our hearts through baptismal remembrance, and the light on the horizon for which we wait at the end of time.
As we wait for the light we hear the song which Mary sang to the baby in her belly, the Magnificat.
He has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant…. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things.
Stephanie, the homeless evangelist of Bainbridge Avenue in the Bronx, died alone on a subway car. In the church for the funeral were many of her companions in her life’s sometimes tortured journey.
Like many of the homeless and poor in the neighborhood, Stephanie was not just a recipient of the church’s ministry of compassion, but also a church member with her own ministry. Epiphany Church offers community along with compassion, the Bread of life along with daily bread. In the remembrances that day I was again reminded that Epiphany was not just a congregation for the poor, but a congregation of the poor. People spoke about the times that Stephanie had prayed for them, encouraged them in trouble and tragedy, and always testified to the power and love of Jesus. A man sitting in the front row, who had sometimes been cruel to her, cried out his loss and regret. The refrain of the remembrances was the same: Stephanie was a friend of the poor and a lover and evangelist of Jesus.
The cadence of the liturgy was touched by the chaos of broken lives, by anger and rambling incoherence and sublime expressions of faith and hope. Many who remembered Stephanie would leave the church remembered by no one.
As we now pray to the One who remembers us all, with Stephanie, look for the light.
Gracious God, you lift up the poor. Help us to see your face as we look on them and be generous. For the sake of Jesus. Amen.
Stephen Paul Bouman
