Rector’s Note: A near disaster and ECS Sunday-6.11.26

Last week at this time I was making my way home from Boston to Philadelphia, after a really great week away. My husband Jess had to fly on to a conference in Buffalo, so I made the drive back by myself with the help of a long-recorded book and my GPS.

Both served me pretty well until I hit New York City. That’s when several things went sour, and I came face to face with a feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that I’ve been thinking about all week.

As I was trying to make my way onto George Washington Bridge, I missed the exit. Twice. Then somehow, I got shunted onto the highway going through the New Jersey Palisades. Thoroughly frazzled, I decided to stop to calm my nerves, set a new course home, and get gas. I had about a quarter of a tank left, which would get me about halfway there. That’s when I discovered my wallet was missing, and that I couldn’t buy gas with the PayPal or Venmo apps on my phone, which was all I had to work with. I was sure I had my wallet in my pocket earlier in the trip. It must have fallen out at an earlier stop.

I texted my son, Jesse, to let him know I was in the middle of a disaster and would be home later than expected. Then I headed for the highway, not quite sure what I was going to do when the gas ran out. That’s when my son called.

Named after his dad and his two grandfathers, my son Jesse has inherited their calm and their problem-solving skills. He guessed I was likely an emotional wreck at this point, and he didn’t want me to get into an actual one.

“Mom, how about you pull over at the next service area, and we’ll figure out how to get you some gas,” he said calmly. He was ready to drive to New Jersey to caravan home with me, if need be, he said. These things happen all the time, he said. New Jersey always throws him for a loop too, he commiserated. I’ll stay on the line with you, he promised. Don’t worry about the wallet, he soothed.

As we were trying to convince another gas attendant to let me use Venmo, a woman in a nearby car saw my distress. “Are you stuck?” she asked. I explained that I didn’t have quite enough gas to make it home to Philadelphia and had lost my wallet. She gasped. Then she handed me $40. “Will this be enough?” she asked.

Yes, I nodded, in tears. Then she got in her car and drove away. I was too rattled to get her name or a way to repay her. I filled my gas tank with $1 left to spare.

With a tank full of gas, and a route home that I could manage, I told my son I’d meet up with him when I returned and would call him if anything else went awry. I tried not to think about the difficulty canceling all my credit cards would cause my husband on his return trip home.  I finished most of my audiobook.

It wasn’t until I pulled up in front of my house in Mt. Airy that I thought to check the backpack I had carried around with me instead of my purse the day before. There was my wallet.

This week I’ve been pondering the tsunami of emotions that made it impossible for me to think clearly for quite awhile after that – embarrassment, shame, vulnerability, a complete loss of control, panic. I had financial resources but I couldn’t access them. I had leaned really hard upon the kindness of other people – my son, the woman in the car.

It didn’t take much to put me in this situation. And that made me think of those living much closer to the edge, easily thrown into chaos by a bill that can’t be paid, an empty gas tank that they can’t afford to fill, a living situation that ends. Not everyone has a family member who can talk them into a better space. Not everyone notices the panic on a nearby face.

It doesn’t take much to recall the feeling of that drive home. I will keep it near when I’m called to empathize with my neighbors who are being thrown into terrifying economic situations, who can’t make sense of the directions that are handed them, who are out of options other than to receive the help that someone is moved to offer. I’ve been the women with the $40 to spare. I’ve also been the woman who needed the money.

Today is the feast of St. Barnabas, an early disciple known for both preaching the gospel and reaching out to others in need.  The bishop has dedicated the Sunday closest to his feast day to celebrating the work of Episcopal Community Services in a new diocesan-wide acknowledgement of the organization’s work.  St. Barnabas is also the patron saint of the St. Barnabas Mission, which houses the organization’s resource center.

The work of ECS isn’t new to St. Peter’s, as we hold our own ECS Sunday every year. But every time I visit this organization or learn more about its work, I am struck by all the ways ECS gives people strategies that ward off that feeling of panic and helplessness.  Ready food, economic support and education, housing advice, after-school care for their children, and people to respond with compassionate care -- all are things that help people avoid falling off the benefits cliffs and to bounce back from disasters. ECS also advocates for laws, policies and structures that help people to thrive, rather than just survive.

This Sunday we’ll pray this prayer for ECS, and for all the work they do to help us to respond with compassion and grace to the needs around us:   Gracious and loving God, we thank you for Episcopal Community Services and its faithful work to uphold dignity, justice, and community. Strengthen all who labor to break the cycle of poverty and empower each person to live with hope and purpose. Guide us as we build a world where all people are valued and every community can flourish. Amen.