"We Speak for (And Care For) the Trees" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday September 6, 2026 – Feast of Creation
Scripture Readings:  Psalm 104:10-25 and Revelation 21:1-5
Dr. Seuss Connection:  The Lorax

This year, we are having a Seussian Summer – each week during the Story for All Ages, we will be reading a different Dr. Seuss book, then paring it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages.

 

This summer, there have been some weeks when I have acknowledged that the Dr. Seuss book we were reading was new to me – that it hadn’t been part of my childhood repertoire.  But that’s not the case with The Lorax.  This book was very much a part of my growing up.

In fact, this book was one of the major influences in my youngest sister choosing to become an environmental engineer – she now spends her professional life speaking for the trees, and for the animals, and for the birds, as she coordinates the clean-ups that are required when corporations make a mess.

When I messaged her earlier this week to confirm that my memory was correct, and that The Lorax had been one of her major influences, she replied with a quote that has followed her through the decades:

“UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better.
It’s not.”

In planning out the summer, I chose to read The Lorax today, on the first Sunday in September, because earlier this year the Consultation on the Common Text, the international and ecumenical body that is in charge of the lectionary readings that we follow through most of the year, they named the Sunday on or following September 1 as the Feast of Creation, sometimes called the Festival of Creation in Christ.

This didn’t happen overnight.  The Feast of Creation is a day that has been recognized by the Eastern Orthodox church since the 8^th Century, and the Orthodox leaders have been advocating for other churches and denominations to recognize the day since 1989.  The first Sunday in September, 2026, comes at the end of decades of advocacy.

When we celebrate creation, we are worshipping the God who created everything that we can see and everything we cannot see.  We celebrate the ways that creation can reveal the image of the Creator.  The diversity of the Truffula trees and Bar-ba-loots and Swomee-Swans, and Humming Fish reveal to us a Creator who is endlessly creative and imaginative, and who celebrates diversity.  The immensity of mountains reveals a Creator who is bigger than we can imagine.  The fury of a thunderstorm or a good nor’easter reveals a Creator who is more powerful than we sometimes like to think about.  The hardness of rocks reveals strength; the busyness of an ant colony reveals continual activity; the flow of the river reveals cleansing; the abundance of trees and plants reveals a living God, who lives again after every winter.

There is so much that creation can reveal to us about the Creator of All, and yet the message of the bible and the message of the Lorax doesn’t end there.  Both the bible and the Lorax call all of us to tend to creation and care for creation.  If we lose the riotous diversity of Creation, then our image of the Creator will lessen.

But more than that, if we harm creation, then we are harming our relationship with the Creator.  If we say that we can cut down all the trees and build a factory to make Thneeds (because why else were the trees placed there if not to make Thneeds) then what are we saying about the Creator of those trees?

It is a difficult conundrum to be in, because we know that we are not able to tread the earth so lightly so as not to cause any harm at all to other parts of creation.  We are trapped in systems that exploit creation for human benefit, and we can see how the earth is groaning under the pressure.  We humans – and I’m speaking about humans on a global scale – we urgently need to find our place within the interconnected community of creation, and find a way to be in true community with the rest of creation.  Because I honestly don’t know how much longer our planet will tolerate the current stress.

But we aren’t left without hope.  There is always hope.  Both the Lorax and the bible offer us hope.

We heard part of Psalm 104 this morning – a psalm that celebrates the goodness of God’s creation and the goodness of God the Creator of All.  But we also read from almost the very end of the bible, from the end of the book of Revelation.  And God promises to renew the earth and the heavens.  Even when we humans mess up so badly that it seems beyond repair, nothing is beyond God’s ability to restore.  The resurrection of Jesus at Easter is just a foreshadowing of the resurrection that is part of God’s very nature.

And The Lorax also holds the promise of resurrection.  Even when all of the trees are gone and the animals and birds and fish have abandoned the place, and the landscape looks more like a wasteland than anything else, there is still hope.  A Truffula seed remains, and with people willing to tend and care for it, a Truffula forest can return, and provide a home for all of the creatures.

For God is Creator
         Creator of all!
God’s heart will be broken
         to hear a tree fall.
But we are God’s people,
         who care for the earth,
we will tend and keep it
         and nurture re-birth.
For we can be people
         who care a whole lot,
and things WILL get better,
         it’s NOT a long shot!
God’s Spirit will guide us,
         and show us the way,
to be God’s good stewards.
All this, we do pray.
Amen.

"You Are God's Beloved Child" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday August 30, 2026
Scripture:  Psalm 33:13-22 and Matthew10:26-31
Dr. Seuss Connection:  Horton Hears a Who

This year, we are having a Seussian Summer - each week during the Story for All Ages, we will be reading a different Dr. Seuss book, then pairing it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages.

When I was a student at the Atlantic School of Theology, one of my favourite classes I took was called “Jesus in Text and Image.”  It was a course on Christology – a course that examined the life and work of Jesus Christ – but we approached it through art and literature.  We read novels, we watched movies, we looked at paintings, we read poetry, and each time we would ask the question, “what can we learn about the person and work of Jesus? What is this artist or creator trying to tell us?”

As we watched movies, they could be divided into two different categories – on one hand, there were the “Jesus films,” which were movies depicting either all or part of the life of Jesus; and the second category were films that included a Christ figure.  These would be films that weren’t explicitly about Jesus, but instead they were films where a character took on some of the characteristics of Christ.  (And then there was one remarkable movie that managed to be both – it is both a Jesus film and a film with a Christ figure.)

When I was first planning out this summer, my original plan for the week in which we would read Horton Hears a Who was that we could compare ourselves to Horton, who is on a mission to save the world.  Or save a world.  I was going to talk about how we, who have a fair bit of privilege on a global scale, are called to care for the more vulnerable, the more disadvantaged.  For a person’s a person, no matter how small.

Or maybe we could look at young Jo-Jo, the slacker.  His was the smallest voice, but it took his voice to make a difference in the outcome.

But then as I was charting out the summer, I realized that Horton and his Whos were going to be making an appearance just two weeks after we read the story about Yertle, the Turtle King, and the ordinary turtle Mack who overthrew the emperor with a burp.  And I worried that the two sermons would be too similar and you might get bored with the same message twice!

But when I thought more about Horton, I started to wonder if, perhaps, we aren’t the elephant, and hopefully we aren’t the kangaroo or the monkeys causing chaos and destruction for the sake of chaos and destruction.  But what if we are the Whos instead?

What if we are the Whos, living our ordinary lives on this speck of dust that we call home, a planet that is both beautiful and terrible, a world where we know both love and suffering?  And what if Horton, the elephant, is the deity in the story, the divine figure who does everything that he can to protect and care for the Whos.  Someone who endures and suffers for their sake.  A Christ Figure, if I think back to those movies that we watched in class – not a literal re-enactment of the life of Jesus in the form of an elephant; but rather someone who takes on some of the characteristics of Christ, giving of themself for the sake of others and for the sake of the world.

I think of the perspective of those Whos.  From my ordinary human perspective, when I’m close to an elephant they seem huge.  To a creature whose entire world is the size of a speck of dust balanced on the edge of a clover, something the size of an elephant would be unfathomably huge.  I don’t know how a Who would ever be able to wrap their mind around an elephant.  But the elephant hears the cry of the Who; and the Whos trust in this being that they can’t comprehend.  The Whos couldn’t see Horton searching for the clover, but the Whos trust that Horton is caring for them and searching them out.

Our ordinary human brains can’t comprehend God, but God hears our cries, and God is with us even when it feels like we are being tossed in a storm.  God will seek us out, even if it requires searching through millions of clovers, for God will never abandon nor forsake you.  God knows and loves every last part of you, right down to every hair on your head.

I don’t think that we have to do an either/or interpretation – either we are called to be like Horton saving the world, or we are the Whos, fully dependent on a God we can’t comprehend.  I think that we can do a both/and reading.  In some ways, we are called to be like Horton.  Together, we are the Body of Christ, called to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world, protecting the vulnerable and creating a space where the voiceless can be heard.  But we are also the Whos; we are also God’s beloved children.  You are God’s beloved child.

For God sees us, and knows us, and loves us.
As the psalm writer said:

Our souls wait for the Lord,
    who is our strength and our shield.
Our hearts are glad in God
    because we trust in the holy name.
God’s steadfast love is upon us,
    as we hope in the Lord.

Thanks be to God.
Amen.

"A Voice the Size of a Mustard Seed" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday August 16, 2026
Scripture:  Jeremiah 1:4-10 and Matthew 13:31-33, 44-46
Dr. Seuss Connection:  Yertle the Turtle

 

This year, we are having a Seussian Summer - each week during the Story for All Ages, we will be reading a different Dr. Seuss book, then pairing it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages.

 

Reading Yertle the Turtle, it is interesting to ponder who Dr. Seuss was thinking of when he created the character of Yertle.  Yertle was king of the pond, and everything was peaceful and everyone was happy.  Until they weren’t.  Or more specifically, until Yertle wasn’t.  He was dissatisfied, and wanted to be the king over more than just the pond.  So he climbed on the backs of other turtles, and proclaimed himself to be king of all he could see.  But it still wasn’t enough, he was still dissatisfied, so he commanded more turtles to make his throne even higher; and once he could see further, he became king over even more land.  But it still wasn’t enough for old Yertle, so he commanded even more turtles to make him a still taller throne so that he could increase his kingdom’s reach.

So does Yertle remind you of anyone, past or present?  Someone with a lust for more power and more land, more control over others?

Dr. Seuss didn’t make a secret about who he was thinking of when he created the character of Yertle – in the early 1950s when he was writing this story, Dr. Seuss said that he was thinking about Hitler, and how Hitler had taken over countries in Europe in the preceding decades in his lust for more power.

But I rather suspect that Hitler may not have been the first name to pop into your head when I asked you who Yertle reminded you of.  Because the pattern of Yertle is a pattern that has been repeated throughout history, for as long as we have been keeping track of history.  It is a pattern that we could see in all of the ancient empires – the Assyrian Empire, the Babylonian Empire, the Persian Empire, the Roman Empire, the Byzantine Empire… folks who have been coming to bible study may recognize these names, as we traced ancient history though the stories of the Old Testament.  In more modern times, we’ve seen the British Empire and the American Empire.

Empires in every moment of history gain power by taking land and resources from others and absorbing them in to the Empire.  You have what I want, therefore I am going to take it and proclaim myself to be the ruler over it… and over you.  This is how empires work.

Yertle sees a cow, a mule, a house, a bush, and a cat, and claims that they are his and he now rules over them and the land on which they stand.

This is maybe even a pattern we see at work in the world today.

But the interesting thing about Dr. Seuss’s story is that even though Yertle is the titular character of the book, I don’t think that he’s the hero of the story.  To me, the hero of the story is young Mack, the turtle who overthrows the emperor with a burp.

A plain little turtle named Mack, who is suffering under the oppression of Yertle, and who has had enough, politely asks Yertle for a break.  Yertle insults him, and when the suffering increases, the voice of Mack becomes a bit louder, letting Yertle know about the suffering of the rest of the turtles. When Yertle continues to ignore their suffering and orders it to increase all the further, Mack burps.  No eloquent words.  No speeches proclaiming the suffering. No polite petitions for it to end.  A simple burp.  And the throne collapses, the empire collapses, and the reign of Yertle the Emperor Turtle has come to an end.

One small voice.  That’s all that it took.  A voice as tiny as a mustard seed.  And an emperor fell.

Jesus told us a couple of parables about the power of something small – he told us that a tiny mustard seed could do good in the world, could grow into a tree that would give shelter to vulnerable birds.  We would never throw away a tiny seed because it seems too small to do anything.

And what about yeast?  With just a quarter teaspoon of yeast, a great big loaf of bread will rise.  Something small can feed a hungry family.

Our ability to do good in the world doesn’t depend on our size, or on the reach of our voice.  It just depends on our willingness to speak up.  And even more than that, just imagine what might be possible when we join our voices together!  I wonder if the story might have unfolded differently if all of the 9 original turtles that made up Yertle’s throne had spoken up, and refused to let the other turtles climb up them to increase the height of the throne?  Well, there might not have been a story if that had happened!

Jesus encourages his followers to be like a mustard seed, to be like yeast in the world.  We don’t have to be the biggest and flashiest, but we can still work change in the world.

I don’t know if you have been following the Tim Hortons – Harry Potter collaboration that is happening right now?  Beginning last Wednesday and continuing until September 6, Tim Hortons has some Harry Potter themed items on their menu.  Now there is nothing wrong with the books or with the people who love the books, but the author of these books is using her money to fund anti-transgender movements and legislation.  And in order to offer Harry Potter branded items on their menu, Tim Hortons had to pay the author of Harry Potter licensing fees.  Which means that Tim Hortons is directly funding transphobia and anti-trans legislation.

I wrote them a letter expressing my dismay when the campaign was first announced, asking that they turn back from this decision, and asking that they take an equivalent amount to what they paid the author of Harry Potter and donate that amount to organizations that support trans people.  And when the campaign launched this week, I sent a second letter, again expressing my dismay and telling them that I will be avoiding their stores for the duration of the campaign.

Will my letters change Tim Hortons mind?  No.  Will my one-person boycott make a difference?  No.  But my initial letter was one of more than 5000 letters that were sent using the template provided by Affirming Connections.  And letters are still being sent in the second round of letter-writing.

It still may not make a difference, but maybe it will.  Some of you are likely old enough to remember the impact that boycotts had in ending Apartheid in South Africa in the 80s and early 90s.  Maybe our collective voice will be heard by Empire, and the world will shift just a little bit towards justice and love.

A couple of weeks ago, we read the story about King Herod, and the fear that the birth of a baby instilled in him.  There’s a great line in one of the hymns we sing at Epiphany when we read the story of the magi and Herod:  “Will you join the hope, alight in the young girl’s eyes, of the mighty put to flight by a baby’s cries?”

The birth of an infant caused a king to tremble with fear; and we, the church, are the body of Christ in the world, called to use our voices, like the turtle Mack, to bring about peace and justice.

When United Church Moderator, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Kimberly Heath, was installed last summer, she compared the United Church to a dandelion.  Not the flashiest of flowers, but tenacious.  A thorn in the side of gardeners.

And so may we, as the body of Christ, be dandelions in the side of empire – tenacious, maybe irritating, but like Mack the turtle, like a mustard seed, like yeast, stubbornly insisting on turning the world towards goodness and love.

And may it be so.  Amen.

"August Saturday" (not a sermon!)

It has been a while since we have had a writing prompt at the Grand Bay Writers' Group (ie we begin with the same prompt but each write something different). At today's gathering, we did choose a prompt then spent 35 minutes writing. The prompt was: “Someone with one thing left to do before summer ends.” Here is the story I wrote.

 

The best part about summer Saturdays is waking up without an alarm.  The sun diffusing through the curtains makes the world feel awake by the time your eyes are open.  A whole day open to an infinite number of possibilities – where to go, what to do, who to see.

When she woke up that particular Saturday, the sun was barely above the horizon and she had to sit up in bed in order to make out its shape through the curtains.  That is a sure sign that the end of August is approaching – the sun is starting to sleep in a little bit later each morning and go to bed a bit earlier each evening.  Not enough that she needs to turn on an outside light, but last night she noticed that she was closing the curtains a good half hour earlier than she had a month ago.

Sitting there in bed, she started to think about the day ahead, started imagining what she might do with the hours that stretched in front of her.  A trip to the library was definitely in order, as she had finished the books she had borrowed a couple of weeks ago.  Maybe a stop at Caffeine-8, her favourite indie coffee shop, for one of their iced coffees.  Would she sit there to drink her coffee and dip into one of her new library books?  To be determined.

The farmer’s market was also beckoning her – this was peak season for all of the local produce, and she knew that the stalls would be overflowing with corn on the cob and tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers and beans.  In the middle of winter, she knew that she would regret any summer Saturdays that she had missed the market – in this northern clime, the short season was a time to be savoured and not wasted.

And would this be the day?  She had been putting it off all summer, but the days were counting down and she knew that there were a few weeks left before it was too late.  She had promised herself that she would go before the end of August, but that promise had been made back when the summer weeks had seemed to stretch out without an end in sight.

She didn’t know why she had been putting it off – it was such a simple thing to do.  Fill in the paperwork.  Put it in an envelope.  Drive to the office.  Drop the envelope into a box.  It would hardly take any time to do at all, and yet somehow the weeks had slipped by and the papers were still sitting there on her kitchen table.

She thought to herself, “If I were a shrink, I would probably be psychoanalyzing myself, telling myself why I am such a lazy bum, why I have been putting it off.  Maybe there is some deep-seated childhood trauma that is keeping me from taking the next step.  Maybe I have unresolved parental issues.”  This thought elicited a laugh out loud from her.

“Or maybe,” she thought, “I could see a psychic who can tell me why.  Maybe the constellations aren’t quite aligned, and I am waiting for their position to shift before I do this.”

With another laugh, she threw off the blanket and got out of bed to make her first cup of coffee for the day and a slice of toast with peanut butter.

Despite its late rising, the sun still carried warmth as it rose higher in the sky.  Her first stop was the library – the old books were returned, and a couple of new ones picked up – a new-to-her Nora Roberts standalone and the latest Inspector Gamache novel – perfect summertime reads.  She stopped at Caffeine-8 and picked up her ice coffee and chose to sit on their patio and read the first couple of chapters of Gamache, the familiar setting of Three Pines welcoming her home.

Coffee finished, the market was next.  As she surveyed the vegetable selection, she decided to pick up a couple dozen cobs of corn to blanch and freeze – they would be a nice treat in a few months when the winter winds were howling, a taste of the summer sunshine.

Preparing the corn for the freezer would take up most of the afternoon, so maybe today wouldn’t be the day after all.  Anyway, what made today special enough to be the day when she would start the next chapter of her life?  It was just an ordinary summer Saturday.  Surely a new beginning deserved a fanfare of trumpets and a heavenly chorus, or fireworks at the very minimum.

She got home, put the library books on the kitchen table, the tomatoes on the counter, the beans in the fridge, and took the corn outside to shuck where it didn’t matter if the silk got everywhere.

She thought about that paperwork as she shucked the corn, as she plunged it in to the stock pot of boiling water, as she pulled it out and dropped it into the ice water that filled her sink, as she sliced the kernels off the cob, as she spread the kernels on cookie sheets, and placed them in her freezer.  The papers were there on the table behind her, staring at her as she worked, seeming to mock her.

Two dozen cobs of corn-off-the-cob in the freezer, and it was still only three in the afternoon.  Still time to do it today.  Though the lure of Inspector Gamache and the world of Three Pines felt strong.  Surely she could read just a couple more chapters first.  The paperwork would still be there tomorrow.

She went back into the kitchen, and walked over to the kitchen table.

 

 Image Credit:  Sharon Drummond on flickr
Used with permission.

"Dr. Seuss and the Futility of War" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday August 9, 2026
Scripture:  Micah 6:6-8 and Mark 8:34-38
Dr. Seuss Connection:  The Butter Battle Book


This year, we are having a Seussian Summer - each week during the Story for All Ages, we will be reading a different Dr. Seuss book, then pairing it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages. 

I suspect that some of you here this morning are old enough to remember the Cold War, that decades-long conflict that divided the countries of the world into two opposing sides, a war that was characterized by conflicts that popped up all around the globe.

I’m a bit too young to have had to do the “Duck-and-Cover” drills of the 50s and 60s, but I was definitely aware of what was going on in the world in the 80s. We always watched the evening news as a family, and CBC Radio was usually on in the background at other times of the day. And my parents were well-informed and they always answered the questions that their daughters asked as we absorbed the news too.

I also remember feeling the push and pull of trying to make sense of the news.  The USSR were the bad guys, but at the same time I felt sorry for all of the people living in Russia and East Germany with no freedom.  I knew that a nuclear bomb could wipe out the world with the push of a button; but I couldn’t understand why all of the countries didn’t just get rid of their nuclear bombs at the same time because why would anyone want to destroy such a beautiful world.

One term that came out of the Cold War era was the concept of “Mutually Assured Destruction” – the idea that if this side over here presses the button to launch the nuclear bombs, then that side over there, before the bombs reach them, will press their button launching their nuclear bombs back at the first side.  Either side can press the button, and by doing so, will assure that both the enemy and themselves will be destroyed.

And there were several times during the Cold War that the world almost reached this moment of Mutually Assured Destruction.

With all that background, you probably won’t be surprised to know that Dr. Seuss wrote The Butter Battle Book in the early 1980s in the era of peak Cold War.  It is said that Dr. Seuss didn’t know if he was writing this book for children or for adults, and this book has also been called a parable – an interpretation that I can get behind!

Remember that a parable is a bit different than an analogy.  With an analogy, you are going for a one-to-one equivalence, but with a parable, we don’t have to say that the Yooks are NATO and the Zooks are the Eastern Block; we don’t have to say that the Bitsy Big-Boy Boomeroo at the end is the nuclear bomb and wonder who is going to blink first.

Instead, a parable allows us to open our minds and our hearts and ask, “what is this story trying to teach us?”  And to me, The Butter Battle Book points out, using silly words and rhymes, the absolute futility of war, and how one-up-man-ship will never resolve anything.  Because if I’m always trying to one-up you, and you respond by trying to one-up me, then there is no way that we will ever be able to resolve our differences.

The place where the parable of the Butter Battle is different than the parables that Jesus told is that Jesus always told parables to teach us about God; but Dr. Seuss’s parable doesn’t point us to God, either explicitly or implicitly.  Instead, the book ends on the threshold of Mutually Assured Destruction.

So the question that I asked, when I first read this story, is how might Jesus respond to the parable of the Butter Battle?  And the answer that I landed on was the cross.  Jesus knew his Micah, he knew that the most important thing in the world, more important than saving face or one-upping ones enemies is to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.  And so instead of repaying violence with more violence, Jesus chose the way of the cross.

If you think of the story that we read every Good Friday, when Jesus is arrested and placed on trial, in none of the four Gospels does Jesus fight back.  He allows himself to be arrested, and even rebukes one of his disciples for carrying a sword and choosing the way of violence.  He doesn’t argue with Pilate or Herod.  When he is nailed to the cross, he doesn’t smash the wood into splinters or zap the soldiers who are doing the violence against him.  If we believe that it is God, God-self, who is being nailed to the cross, then Jesus had the power to do that, he had the power to one-up the soldiers, but he chose not to.

Instead, Jesus cried out, “Father, forgive them.”  Forgive them.

Jesus broke the cycle of violence by refusing to participate.

And Jesus calls us to the way of the cross too.  Jesus tells us that we are to deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow him.  We are to push down those urges that say, “They did that to me, so I have to do it back to them, but maybe with a bit more force.”  Embracing the way of the cross means embracing a way of radical non-violence, no matter the cost.  Jesus goes on to say, “What will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?”  What will it gain those Yooks to drop the Bitsy Big-Boy Boomeroo? They might win the Butter Battle but it will cost them the world.

But on the other hand, what do they have to lose by choosing the way of the cross?  What if either the Yooks or the Zooks were to choose the way of the cross, and refuse to play the game, and lay down their weapons instead? What if we didn’t always have to be right and impose our way on others?

The Cold War has been over for more than 35 years now, but that doesn’t mean that all war has ended.  We see conflicts breaking out, seemingly at a faster pace than they are ending.  Ukraine and Russia.  Palestine and Israel.  Iran and the United States.  Israel and the Arab States.  The US and Cuba.

What if we could sit down the leaders of every country and read them The Butter Battle Book so that they can see the futility of war?  And then once they can see that war only leads to destruction, what if we could introduce the way of the cross as an alternative?  I rather suspect that some world leaders would consider this to be the action of a weakling, “What, you’re just going to sit back and let them win?”  But then again, I rather suspect that these same leaders might consider the actual Jesus to be a bit of a loser or a weakling, contrary to the image of a Warrior Jesus that Christian Nationalism has built.

And we, as the church… well, we are here because we have chosen to follow the way of Jesus.  And while I don’t think that any of us here have the power to end global conflicts, we are still called to choose the way of the cross in our day-to-day lives – we are called to break cycles of conflict, cycles of violence, by refusing to participate in them.

And even though this runs contrary to what the world might tell us is the best path – You’ve got to stand up for yourself! Might makes right! Grow a backbone and don’t let them take advantage of you.  With the world’s mindset, the cross makes no sense at all.  And yet because we follow Jesus, we choose the way of the cross.  Because we know that the way of the cross will eventually lead, not to mutually assured destruction, but to resurrection and new life.

And may it be so.
And may it be so, in every corner of the world.
Amen.

"What do King Herod, Covid-19, and the Grinch Have in Common?" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday August 2, 2026
Scripture: Isaiah 40:3-5 and Matthew 2:11-18
Dr. Seuss Connection:  How the Grinch Stole Christmas

This year we are having a “Seussian Summer” – each week during the story for all ages, we will be reading a Dr. Seuss book, then pairing it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages.

I invite you to cast your mind back to the year 2020.  I’m sure that most of us have very vivid memories about how the world changed abruptly in March of that year – how we had to stop gathering together in-person, how we were able to form 2-houshold bubbles, and later on we were allowed to expand our contact circle to 10 people.

When I think of that year, one of my strongest memories is of how I continually had to figure out how to do things differently.  From livestreaming, to parking lot coffee hours, to daily check-ins on Facebook Live so that we could continue to pray together as a worshipping community – we did church very differently that year, and in the years that followed.

We also had to do Christmas differently that year.  I remember that you had to reserve your spot in church on Christmas Eve because there wasn’t room for everyone who would normally be here, to attend and still maintain physical distancing.  I also remember a conversation that lasted for weeks, figuring out how we were going to do the candles at the end of the service, because the last thing that we wanted people to do was to lift their masks at the same time and take a deep breath in to blow out the candles at the end of the service!

And when I was writing my Christmas letter that year – the letter that goes out every November to all of the families connected with our church, I drew on the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  I dug out that letter this week, and this is part of what I wrote in November 2020:

And then, on Christmas morning, the Grinch pauses to listen for the grief and wailing that is sure to accompany the discovery that Christmas can’t happen that year.  But to his surprise, he hears the Whos begin to sing their Christmas songs, because nothing can stop Christmas from coming. 

I think that this is an important story for us to remember this year, as we celebrate Christmas in a time of Covid-19.  So many of the traditions that usually usher in the season – concerts and parties and gatherings of friends and families – aren’t going to be able to happen.  But just as the Grinch wasn’t able to stop Christmas from coming, Covid-19 won’t be able to stop Christmas from coming either.

There is nothing external to our faith that can block our faith or get in the way of it – not only because our faith is something that we hold in our hearts, but also because our faith belongs to God, and God is in control.

The reading that we heard from Matthew is part of the Christmas story, but it’s not the part of the story that we like to read on Christmas Eve or on Christmas Day.  There are no shepherds, no manger, no stars, no grumpy innkeeper.  There is an angel though, a messenger from God, who warns Joseph and Mary that their lives and the life of their child is in danger, a messenger from God who warns them to flee.

And the story that follows is horrific.  A despotic king realizes that he has been tricked, and in his rage he orders that every child in the area of Bethlehem under the age of 2 be killed.  This isn’t the part of the story that we read as we sing Silent Night by the glow of candlelight.

Herod was someone with more earthly power than almost anyone in the world at that time, and he chose to use his power to cause harm rather than for good.  And Herod tried to stop God’s plan from unfolding, tried to murder God’s Word-Made-Flesh.  But just like the Grinch, and just like the Covid-19 virus, Herod wasn’t able to stop God.

That being said, I don’t want to minimize the horror of the story by saying that because Jesus lived, the murder of all of the other babies doesn’t matter.  No.  The murder of each one of those babies mattered to their parents and mattered to God.  I imagine God’s wail of grief echoing the wail of grief of the parents, weeping for their children and refusing to be consoled.

And yet even such a horror wasn’t able to stop God’s ultimate plan from unfolding.

Which, to me, offers some consolation, and some hope.  When I think about the world, and everything that is going on in the world today, there are so many reasons why I might give up hope.

Wars seem to be starting faster than they are ending.  The conflict in Ukraine was escalating this week, and peace talks in Iran have ended.

Oppression of 2SLGBTQIA+ people seems to be worsening in some parts of the world.

There seems to be increasing fear or suspicion of outsiders or anyone who might be considered different; as people are feeling free to be openly racist in so many places, including here in New Brunswick.

But when I look at all of the horrible, horrific things in the world today, I remind myself that there is nothing that can ever stop God’s plan for the world – nothing can stop God’s goodness and God’s love from unfolding.  Neither the Grinch nor Covid-19 were able to stop Christmas from coming back in 2020.  Herod wasn’t able to extinguish the Light of the World 2000 years ago.

And so even in our most painful moments, even when our fears threaten to drown out the light, we can trust that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will never overwhelm it.  We can trust that the longest night eventually gives way to the dawn.  We can trust that all empires eventually fall.  And we can trust that God’s reign will continue to unfold. 

For God comes without ribbons!
God comes without tags!
God comes without packages,
boxes, or bags!
And when bad things happen,
we might puzzle some more,
til we think of something
we haven’t thought before.
For God came as a baby
to overturn kings,
to show us the way
and to give our hope wings.
For nothing – no nothing!
can blow out God’s light;
For God is in charge,
and will make all things right.

"My Days are Many Coloured, but God is Constant" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday July 12 and 19, 2026 – Flower Services
Scripture:  Psalm 27:1-14 and Romans 8:38-39
Dr. Seuss Connection:  My Many Colored Days

This year we are having a “Seussian Summer” – each week during the story for all ages, we will be reading a Dr. Seuss book, then pairing it with scripture to see what wisdom we might find within its pages.

I was a kid in the 80s, and I grew up in a family of readers in a house with lots of books, and when I was planning out this summer’s worship I thought that I knew my Dr. Seuss.  We had some of his books at home, others could be found at my grandparents’ cottage, and still others we borrowed from the library at one time or another.

But until this summer, I had never read My Many Colored Days.  In fact, even the title was unfamiliar to me before I started doing some research.  But when I finally got my hands on a copy, the pieces fell into place.  If you look here on the dedication page, you’ll see that it is Dr. Seuss’s wife, Audrey Geisel – Dr. Seuss’s real name was Theodore Geisel – but it was his wife Audrey who wrote the dedication:  “To Ted, who colored my days… and my life.”

And after that, I realized that while Dr. Seuss wrote the text in 1974, the book wasn’t published until 1996, 5 years after his death, and more than a decade after I was reading my way through the Dr. Seuss catalogue.  So I hadn’t just missed this book as a child – it hadn’t been published yet!

And that is one direction that I could go with this sermon for this year’s Flower Service.  I could talk about how the lives of the people we are remembering today made our lives more colourful, more vibrant, and how this is reflected in the vibrancy of the flowers we are using to build our bouquet of memories.

But instead, I want to talk about the message of the book itself.  It’s a fairly simple text.  There’s not really a story like the story we read last week in Green Eggs and Ham.  But it’s a book that reassures the children who are reading it, or listening to it being read, that we feel different things on different days, and that is OK.  And maybe that can be reassurance for the adults who read or listen to this book too.

Some days we feel excited.  Some days we feel down in the dumps.  Some days we feel a quiet contentment.  Some days we feel flat.  Sometimes our feelings can change from hour to hour, or even minute to minute.  And all of this is OK.

And if we were to bring together the message of My Many Colored Days with the scripture readings that we heard, I think that a new message can emerge.

Some of you know that I have many, many favourite scriptures, and Psalm 27 is close to the top of my list of favourites.  And the psalmist writes:
         The Lord is my light and my salvation,
                  whom shall I fear?
         The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
                  of whom shall I be afraid? …
         For God will hide me in their shelter
                  in the day of trouble;
         God will conceal me under the cover of their tent…
         Even if my father and mother forsake me,
                  the Lord will take me up.

The psalmist is confident in God’s help and in God’s protection.  Which is similar to the message we heard from the apostle Paul in his letter to the church in Rome:

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

If I were to re-write Paul in the spirit of Dr. Seuss’s Many Colored Days, I wonder if it would sound something like:

Not death, not life, not anything,
can steal the love of God our king.
When we are sad, when we are glad,
when we are still, when we are mad,
If we dance and if we sing,
if we fly up on a swing,
If we climb atop the hill,
then God – yes God – is with us still!

There is nothing that can ever separate us from God and from God’s love.  No matter what we are feeling, no matter what colour our day is, God’s love is with us always.  You are God’s beloved child, in all your multi-coloured beauty.  As we gather today to remember our loved ones, no matter how you are feeling – if you are feeling sad, if you are feeling mad, if you are feeling glad – no matter how you are feeling, God loves you.  And no matter how you feel tomorrow, God will love you.  And the next day.  And the day after that.  And the day after that too.

And so as we build our bouquet of memories, let us celebrate the vibrant, colourful lives we are remembering today.  And let us also embrace the rainbow spectrum of our own feelings, as we celebrate God’s presence in our lives not just today, but every day.

And may it be so.

Following this reflection, we built our Bouquet of Memories – flowers were added for the people in each church community who have died in the past year; then everyone had the opportunity to come forward and add a flower to the bouquet. Think of all of the memories and all of the love contained in each of these bouquets!

 

Westfield Bouquet / Bayswater-Summerville Bouquet / Long Reach Bouquet