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As part of our October 2007 series on ‘Our Mission at Bishop street’, below is the sermon by John Aldridge on Sunday October 21st 2007, on the theme ‘Outreach in the City centre’.
To stand was its purpose. A sermon based on Psalm 122. (I was glad when they said to me let us go into the House of the Lord).
9/11
It’s become the shorthand term for terrorism of the most appalling kind.
The destruction of the Twin Towers, in the financial centre of the world’s most successful and powerful economy, surely shocked all of us.
Like the assassination of President Kennedy and the death in a road accident of Princess Diana, it is one of those occasions when most of us can remember where we were and what we were doing when the terrorists made their audacious and cynical attack.
Al Quaeda claimed responsibility. For the American people it brought a war, which hitherto had been fought in remote lands on the other side of the world, to their doorstep. Since 9/11 almost everything has changed.
The Twin Towers housed the World Trade Centre. Thousands worked there and on that bright sunny morning hundreds of innocent people in aeroplanes that were crashed into the Towers and those working in the buildings themselves, were killed.
So too were dozens of emergency workers who tried forlornly to deal with the crisis. The main fire station in Lower Manhatten carries a poignant memorial naming those who died that day.
The Twin Towers were in the very centre of the City, next to Wall Street and near the New York Stock Exchange. As I looked recently at "Ground Zero" and saw recorded there the names of those who were killed the images of that fatal day came flooding back.
And I recalled the iconic pictures, published around the world, of a large cross, fashioned out of the steel girders of the collapsed buildings, that became a rallying point for those who had lost loved ones and who needed something in which to find succour.
Many found hope and comfort in that cross, now copied around the world. It has become a symbol of light in the darkness.
And I thought, again, of the poem: "Jesus wept over the City" with which our worhsip began:
"Jesus wept over the city,
With its burden and toil and care.
Wept, while the throngs were too busy
To know who was standing there.
Wept for the people who gave Him
A cross for a diadem.
Jesus wept over the City –
But was it Jerusalem?"
On 9/11 it was New York and there right in the centre of that City was the weeping Christ.
He was seen in the form of St. Paul’s Chapel. Built in 1766 and the church in which George Washington worshipped, it stood yards away from the Twin Tower.
St. Paul’s Chapel with its ancient cemetery, tall mature trees, gardens and ever open door had been there before the skyscrapers and before Wall Street. It stood a witness to Christianity, midst the hustle and bustle of the City.
Much like Bishop Street it was always there, a reminder to all that bothered to look, that there was something more to life than making money, important though that is.
In the aftermath of 9/11, literally before the dust had settled, the role of St. Paul’s dramatically altered:
Exhausted emergency workers, injured office workers, and soon the wives and husbands, parents and friends of those who were at work in the Twin Towers began to arrive at the Church. It put a totally new perspective on the Scripture which says: "I was glad when they said to me let us go into the house of the Lord".
Some prayed. Some, exhausted, slumped into a pew and slept. Others sought a counsellor. All who came found a refuge.
Miraculously, as buildings all around "Ground Zero" were devastated, St Paul’s Chapel was unmarked. Not even a single crack in the stained glass windows.
A poet, J. Chester Johnson, contemplating the miracle wrote:
"It stood in place of other sorts.
It stood when nothing else could.
The great had fallen, as the brute hardware came down.
It stood"
In the ensuing days, St. Paul’s became the centre of light and goodness. There Christ embraced those who came, whatever their colour, class or creed. Over 14,000 volunteers worked in 12 hour shifts. They cared for 2,000 people every day.
St Paul’s has come to represent goodness in the face of evil. Love in the face of hatred. Kindness in the face of hostility. It is now restored, but remains a living memorial to those who died.
For thousands the church at the city centre represented the love of God in action. It was called affectionately and with typical American colour: "The barbeque of Broadway"
I do not pretend to understand how ordinary men and women can behave as those terrorists did. I do not pretend to understand either what kind of God they believe in.
But at St. Paul’s I understand what the Church was there for. I understood its role. I saw the Church at its very best. God was seen at work in that place.
Jesus wept. He wept over Jerusalem knowing its problems and division. He wept for the people there. He wept as He realised what may have to happen to Him in that City. He wept as He contemplated Calvary. As He approached the City He was facing His 9/11.
I don’t think it unreasonable to see a parallel between St. Pauls and Bishop Street: Both Churches are in the City centre. Both have beautiful, historic buildings. Both are surrounded by business, commercial and civic operations. Both are in areas where relatively few people live. Both identify opportunities to serve and witness. Both have small but committed congregations.
For St. Paul’s, the opportunity to serve came in a savage, shocking way. They, powered by the Spirit, rose to the occasion. The volunteers, the money and the prayers, then poured in.
For Bishop Street the opportunity has come in a thoughtful, prayerful, considered way. The plan for the future carefully thought through:
To restore a building that will give shelter, security and satisfaction to many. To develop the premises to reach out to City workers, to give space and facilities to bored and aimless young people and to give warmth, sustenance and hope to the lonely and homeless. To provide a gathering place. To provide refreshment and renewal.
As the adventure begins, as the appeals are made, as the "oxygen of publicity" begins to pump, as prayers are said, the volunteers, the money and the support will follow.
Jesus wept over the City, but he also laughed in joy at those who did recognise Him, who did understand His message and who were ready to commit their lives to Him.
When those involved in "Ground Zero" needed less immediate and practical help and the Church could, at last, be restored, it was swiftly returned to its former glories. And when it re-opened there was a great thanksgiving – not so much satisfaction in a job well done, nobody could deny that, but much more the sense that the Church was ready to serve a new society, in a new age, with new demands and new expectations.
Those at St. Paul’s, quoted in a book called "Light at Ground Zero", used words from the General Thanksgiving to express their feelings: "and that we show forth Thy praise, not only in our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to Thy service."
That’s the spirit in which Bishop Street embraces the exciting possibility of a re-birth. For with God’s help this great Church will continue to witness, serve, comfort and inspire those who pass by.
St Paul’s has a notice board which on 9/11 took on a totally new meaning: It gives the name of the Church and the times of worship and then beneath it gives its Mission Statement:
"WE’RE HERE FOR YOU"
It could well be Bishop Street’s Mission Statement too:
We’re here for YOU. "Yesterday, today, and forever!"
"I was glad when they said to me, let us go into the house of the Lord"
Amen
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