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Epistle: Romans 15:4-13
May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, in accordance with Christ Jesus, so that together you may
with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.
When there is beauty in the person, there is harmony in the home
Good Morning, my name is Loretta Veney, and I’m an 11:15 worshipper here at St. Mark's. I know a lot of you may not know me … but I hope to change that
after today. A few weeks ago, after seeing my name on the preaching schedule, a really honest parishioner asked me, “so how’d you get to preach; I
thought only directors of something got to preach at St. Mark's – what are you director of ??” … And I said simply, “I am director of nothing” – and
while that is true, it doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.
I want to start by thanking Paul, the Advent Lions and Tim, my husband and best friend, for having faith in me that I can make our time this morning a
meaningful few minutes. My goal is to take you briefly along the spiritual journey that brought me to St. Mark's and to share with you my quest to find
harmony and peace here. When I came to St. Mark’s at the end of May 2006, I was really excited about the sabbatical theme of embracing the other because
I knew I could learn from the “others” who would preach during Paul’s absence; but also, because here at St. Mark's, I too am the “other.”
I’m actually a cradle Episcopalian, born into an African-American congregation in NW Washington that was the first church in DC for freed slaves. It’s
quite the historic place, as it’s even on the Smithsonian historic places tour. All that history aside though, it was never my favorite place, though I
stayed there until I was an adult because my entire family tree was there, from as far back as 1908. You don’t just walk away from a church with a
family legacy like that, but that’s exactly what I did and with good reason, I believed: there were many parishioners there who were “beautiful” to
look at, but in my opinion there was little beauty “in” many of the people. Church was all about what you were wearing, and what you served at
coffee hour. I was on the search committee and a member of the vestry that brought a young African-American rector to the church. We felt it would
be a great fit, but the relationship between the vestry and the rector was so bad that on two occasions the police had to be called to a vestry
meeting … and no, I’m not kidding. I’d guess that the police have never been called to a vestry meeting here at St. Mark's. I am a security
consultant, and there were several times I thought about wearing my bullet proof vest to vestry meetings because the vestry handbook didn’t cover how
to handle conflict this extreme. Interestingly, some of the conflict involved the rector’s desire for the church to become more racially diverse, a
desire most of the congregation didn’t embrace. So, I walked away one Sunday and never went back. Like this Sunday’s theme, I wanted a new home
where I could find harmony and peace … I wanted to grow spiritually in a diverse community, where I could see and feel the beauty in others.v
I found all that and more at the Church of the Nativity, the little church on the hill in Camp Springs, Maryland a mere two miles from my house.
Nativity was a very diverse and intensely loving community of about 100 people and I experienced tremendous spiritual growth there under the gifted
leadership of the Rev Dr Joan Beilstein. I remember Joan telling me not long after I arrived there … “you my friend have incredible spiritual gifts,
I want you to preach” … “you want me to do what?” I said. But preach I did, and people seemed to love the 2 or 3 sermons I gave each year. I was
also elected to the vestry and served as junior warden. Even as a new parishioner, I was never the “other” at Nativity. I was accepted and embraced
from the moment I walked in … hard to believe I know ... but it’s true. There was amazing beauty in the people there, and much harmony in our spiritual
home.
But the peace and harmony I found at Nativity was shortlived. When our membership numbers dropped significantly due to retirement and relocations, we
hired a consultant to determine what we could do. After assessing our situation, the consultant gave us three options: to change ourselves radically
to attract new members … to merge with another congregation in PG County … or, to do the unthinkable and close. After agonizing over all the options,
we, the vestry, voted unanimously in Nov 2005 to close Nativity. …… It was hard to breathe after that vote. Switch places with me for a moment, could
you imagine closing St. Mark's ?? Nativity was 133 years old, and ending. …. But as painful as it was, it was the right decision. Our final service
was scheduled for May 26, 2006.
As junior warden, I decided to visit other churches in the Diocese to find homes for our remaining parishioners. I visited 22 churches in a five-month
period, attending services in the daytime, nighttime and Saturdays too. One particularly long Sunday I went to three different churches – did you know
that there is a church in this diocese that has a 7:30 AM. Sunday service?? There is, and people actually go!! Almost every church I went to allowed
me to speak about Nativity’s impending closing and they were excited about the potential of getting some of our parishioners, especially me, I was told.
I published a report for our parishioners which contained all the pertinent information on each church I visited. That project of searching for new
church homes is how I found St. Mark's.
Almost everyone in the Diocese has heard of the great Paul Abernathy so even though Capital Hill was further than I thought most people would drive
to from Camp Springs, I decided to come see Paul for myself … unfortunately for me, he wasn’t here the day I came, but I did learn about a class
offered called Losses and New Beginnings. Fortunately, I was allowed to take the class which began in Feb 2006. I needed it badly too, because
I was not only losing my church in three months, but also, my beloved aunt who was dying of cancer. The Losses class truly helped me and I saw
amazing beauty in each of my classmates. The final service at Nativity in May was simultaneously beautiful and excruciating, but the pain was
lessened for me because Paul and eight of my Losses classmates were there to support me.
On the last night of the Losses class, I decided that I would join St. Mark's for three primary reasons. First, my classmates were incredibly welcoming,
and second – every time I saw him, Paul not only remembered my name, but asked how my aunt was doing … and I wasn’t even a member yet – that really
impressed me. And finally, I chose St Mark’s because I absolutely loved the way communion was done here – it was a very spiritual experience for
me. My Losses classmates were thrilled that I was joining St. Mark's. But surprisingly, they were the only ones who were thrilled … almost everyone
else I know was shocked by my decision. People said, “you’re going where? … St. Mark's, the all white church??” “Well I guess most of them are
white, but what’s wrong with that?” I said. People were actually betting that I wouldn’t make it here; most people gave me six months, a year tops.
I kept asking, why won’t I make it there? The top three reasons were always the same: 1) you’re black, 2) you don’t make enough money, and 3) unless
you moved recently, you don’t live on the Hill. That’s ridiculous I thought … this is church. But the question that really stunned me about my decision
to come to St. Mark's was this: “of all the churches that wanted the Nativity parishioners in general, and you in particular, why would you choose St.
Mark's, the place that will be the least welcoming to you?” But I convinced myself that everyone was wrong … St. Mark's was in the process of welcoming
the other, wouldn’t they welcome me too??
My first few months were pretty good … A mere three weeks after Nativity closed, I went to the retreat at Shrine Mont. I met people, had fun and had
what I would call deep conversations with quite a few people. As Paul left on his sabbatical a few weeks later, I promised him I would be here when
he returned. And I was … but for me, it was a long seven months. Some people I had chatted extensively with on the retreat didn’t speak to me on
Sundays. I’d have a nice discussion with someone during pub lunch one Sunday, and when I’d speak to them the following Sunday, they’d look at me as
if they’d never seen me before. Or people would speak to me one Sunday, but not the next. It was confusing and upsetting … At one Woman to Woman
dinner someone asked me “Oh, are you still here, I thought you just came to take the Losses class?” I remember thinking to myself, “I’m still here,
but I don’t know for how much longer.” I did get invited to join a couple of committees, but didn’t, because they didn’t fit me … If I join a committee
it has to be something I am passionate about, like anything associated with Sunday Service. I even had a laugh when someone asked me to consider
running for the vestry … but remember, one of my stints on a vestry involved closing a church, so I definitely don’t think I’m a good candidate for
any church’s vestry.
After months of trying to have conversations on Sundays with people who didn’t seem to be interested in having conversations with me, and seeing
parishioners on the streets near St. Mark's who wouldn’t speak back to me when I spoke to them, I accepted the fact that I definitely was “the other”
at St. Mark's. I began to withdraw … I got very quiet ... you have to understand how really unusual being quiet is for me because I am the ultimate
extrovert – my license plate says “Spunky.” But I’ve been anything but spunky here at St. Mark's … So I came up with a new strategy, I decided I
would let people speak to me first on Sundays. That way, I wouldn’t get my feelings hurt as much … But that didn’t work either, it just resulted
in me speaking to very few people. I was unhappy and not finding much peace here.
In one of my last sermons at Nativity, I implored the congregation to take their gifts they had used so faithfully at Nativity out into the Diocese
to make their new congregations richer. They’ve done that, I haven’t. Of all the former Nativity parishioners, I am the one who is “least comfortable”
in their new spiritual home. It’s funny that it’s easy to tell other people what to do, without actually following the advice yourself. But I wasn’t
sure how to use my gifts here, or how to fit in.
I even tried to leave St. Mark's … twice ... each time, for 3 or 4 weeks in a row, I pretended that I had something better to do on Sunday mornings
than come here … but God’s response to my attempts to leave was simply “Go back to St. Mark's … you’re not done there yet.”
There was no winner of the bet that I wouldn’t last a year, because exactly 18 months after my arrival, I’m still here. I heard the folks at my
birth church were even planning a “welcome back Loretta party” after Nativity closed – certain that I would come to my senses and come back to them …
But I would never have gone back there because I don’t want to be in an all African-American congregation either. I want … and need … as much
diversity as I can get.
Someone asked if I could sum up my time at St. Mark's in a few sentences … I said I can do it in two words – “Lost” and “Invisible.” So I wondered
if other people here have felt the same way. … The next logical question would be, what would we have to do to make a person feel immediately
comfortable at St. Mark's, as I did at Nativity? We’ve talked about it, but how would we actually do radical hospitality? I don’t have the
answer yet, but I want to find one. At the end of Paul’s sabbatical, he asked each of us to find a cause for which we were willing to die, to create a self
with whom we could live. I finally think I’ve found mine and the reason I am here at St. Mark's … My cause is to find a way to stop talking about
radical hospitality and race, and to start doing something about it. And I’m going to need a lot of help, because I’m not even sure where to start.
It’s hard for me to admit that I know I haven’t been welcoming to new people I see at St. Mark's. And the reason is simple … how can I honestly
welcome someone when I haven’t felt all that welcome myself? But if anything is going to change, I’ve got to step outside of my very small circle
of friends and start welcoming … and start doing … and I’d like to start today … I’d ask us not to focus on a person’s exterior, but to look instead
for the beauty within them. And I’d ask that we all intentionally start practicing today’s epistle, which says … live in harmony with one another,
in accordance with Christ Jesus, so that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Welcome one anothe,
therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.
I love this Sunday’s theme … “When there is beauty in the person, there is harmony in the home.” … My friends, I feel a lot of beauty “in” you,
especially as I look into your eyes during communion. Standing next to, and across from you every week, receiving the body and blood of Christ, has
fulfilled me enough to keep me coming here, even though I may not even know your name. But it can’t end at Communion, we must be intentional and
sincere in all aspects of our hospitality. In my mind, it’s the only way to ensure that there is both diversity and harmony in our spiritual home.
While I am supportive of working on topics like poverty outside of St. Mark's, I honestly believe we need to look inward at ourselves first, at how
we treat the “others” in our own community. Last week at the start of Advent, Gene Kendall encouraged us to be ready when the parade of Advent comes.
Gene said that we are invited not just to watch the parade, but also to get up off the curb and join in. I was listening Gene. I’m up off that curb,
I’m ready to join in … I’m ready to start a new chapter of my spiritual journey, to stop feeling like the “other.” I’m ready to simply be Loretta
Veney, St. Mark's parishioner. I’m ready to get to know you better, and I pray that you’re ready to get to know me … My brothers and sisters of St.
Mark's, as we all strive to embrace those different from us, I wish us peace…
