"More Scandalous Grace" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday March 27, 2022 – 4^th Sunday in Lent

Scripture:  Luke 15:11-32

 

The story that we just heard is possibly one of the most famous stories in the bible.  It is referenced in art and in literature. It is one of the parts of the bible that I was familiar with before I even attended church or read the bible.  And whether you first came across the story in Sunday School or in a novel, you probably know it by the name of the Prodigal Son.

 

And the story is mostly told from the perspective of this younger brother.  It is the story of a son who asks his father for his inheritance while his father is still living.  I wonder what his motivation for doing this was.  What could have prompted him to essentially say to his father, “I wish you were dead so that I could get the money now”?  I wonder if he felt overlooked by his parents his whole life in favour of his elder brother who, by local custom, would have been set to inherit the significantly larger share of the money and land after the death of their father.  I wonder if his older brother looked down on him as the second-born and less important one in the family.  But whatever the reason, this younger son goes to his father and says that he doesn’t want to wait until his father is dead – he wants the money now.

 

And his father gives him the money.  I can hear the gasps of amazement coming from Jesus’s audience as he tells this story. Rather than scolding his son for impudence, the father gives him what he has asked for.  And the younger son goes off and spends the money on women, wine, and song.

 

I wonder, as he was spending the money, if the younger son ever got true pleasure from it.  I wonder if the things he spent the money on ever satisfied whatever hunger within him had caused him to demand the money.

 

And eventually the money was gone.  And this son was left with nothing.  He hired himself out to a local landowner to tend the pigs, and tried to make do with scraps from the slop bucket.  Again, I can hear the gasps of shock coming from Jesus’s original audience.  Pigs are considered to be ritually unclean in Judaism, and so by hiring himself out to tend the pigs, this younger son has dropped below the lowest rung of society.

 

And even though he knew a hungry heart when he demanded his inheritance, he now knows a hungry body.  He is able to see his circumstances, and realizes that even his father’s servants are less likely to starve to death than he is now.  And he resolves to go home.

 

It’s interesting – we don’t know if he has truly repented of what he had previously done to his family.  Is he driven home because of a desire to reconcile with the one whom he had wished dead, or is he driven home out of a need not to starve to death?

 

But in the end, his motivations don’t matter.  As he is travelling along the road towards the house, his father spots him and comes running out to meet him and to welcome him home.  What was lost has been found and a family member has been forgiven and restored.

 

As we read the story of this prodigal son, there is another son, an elder son, lurking in the shadows.  What if we were to change the name of this parable from the story of the Prodigal Son to the story of the Responsible Son who Stayed Home?

 

I wonder how this elder son felt, watching his younger brother demanding his share of the inheritance.  Did he feel outrage at the audacity?  Did he think it was good riddance of a lazy sibling who never carried his fair share of the work?  Was he envious of his brother’s opportunity to go and see something of the world?

 

And this older brother stayed behind and continued to work in his father’s fields and tend his father’s animals.  And the years passed.

 

And then one day when he was out in the fields his brother returned home.  But nobody came out to tell him.  He only discovered that the prodigal had returned when he came in from work for the day and discovered that the fatted calf had been slaughtered and a banquet was being prepared and all of the neighbours were coming to a party to welcome home the shiftless sibling.

 

And Jesus tells us how the older brother feels in this moment.  He is hurt that his younger brother who has caused so much pain is now being celebrated.  He is envious that this one who has been given so much and who has had the opportunity to see the world is now being given even more.

 

And just as their father ran out to the road to welcome his younger son home, their father now comes out to the older son and pleads with him to come inside to join the party.  This is a father who longs for both sons to be able to celebrate with him.

 

This is an outrageous story.  No matter whether you empathize with the younger brother or the older brother, you should be scandalized by it.  If you relate more with the younger brother, you should be outraged that your older sibling is casting a pall over your celebration.  And if you related more with the elder brother, you should be outraged that your younger brother is being celebrated after causing so much pain.  And maybe a bit outraged because he is now infringing on your share of the inheritance.

 

But there is a third perspective in this story.  Rather than the story of the Prodigal Son or the story of the Responsible Son Who Stayed Home, what if we read this as the story of a Father Who Loves Both of His Sons.

 

This now becomes a story about a father who has been deeply wounded by a son who seems to care nothing for family, a son who leaves home and only returns under the most desperate of circumstances; and even still, the father goes against all of the conventions of the time and place where he lives and casts of dignity and runs out to welcome this wayward son home.

 

This becomes a story about a father who is deeply wounded by his elder son’s inability to forgive his younger brother, causing further divisions within the family; and even still, the father goes against all of the conventions of the time and place where he lives, and pleads with his son to heal the wounds and divisions of the past.

 

This becomes a story about a father who loves all of his children, no matter what they do; a story about a father who is always longing for us to come home; a story about a father who invites everyone to the feast.

 

If you worshipped with us last week, then you know that we read another parable about grace – the parable of a fig tree that didn’t give any fruit year after year, and yet was always given another chance.  And here we have another story about grace – a story of a father who is always wanting to invite his children into the celebration, no matter what has gone down in the past.

 

And grace is a scandalous thing.  I appreciate grace when it is given to me, when I am showered with love that I have not earned or deserved; and yet when it comes to other people, my human tendency is to want them to get what I think they deserve.  And when I see grace, I am scandalized.  Grace isn’t fair, but grace is beyond fair.

 

And yet grace is how God’s economy works.  We could never earn God’s love, yet God loves us anyways.  And one of the amazing things about grace is that it’s not a zero-sum game.  Grace for you doesn’t mean less grace for me.  There is always an abundance to go around.

 

And maybe that is where Jesus’s parable of the two sons and their father breaks down.  He is telling about an inheritance split between two sons, and when he welcomes his younger son home, he is going to be taking out of his older son’s share of the inheritance to care for his younger son.  But that’s not how it works when it comes to God’s love.  We can welcome everyone to the feast, knowing that there is always enough to go around, and that there is an abundance for everyone.  Thanks be to God!

 

 

"The Return of the Prodigal Son"

Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, c. 1669

"The Scandal of Grace" (Sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday March 20, 2022 – 3^rd Sunday of Lent

Reading:  Luke 13:1-9

 

 

I have a 22-year-old shamrock plant in my living room.  Back in 2000, I was visiting a friend in Ottawa, I admired her shamrock, and she said, “Do you want some?” and before I had a chance to reply she had yanked out some of the roots and put them in a yoghurt container for me. I brought it back to Thunder Bay in my carry-on luggage – that was pre-September 11 when luggage was less-carefully scrutinized – and got a pot and some soil for it. My first ever house plant.

 

After its initial airplane ride, that plant has moved several times. When I went overseas, it went to Dad’s house in southern Ontario, then back to Thunder Bay 3 ½ years later. It moved to Kenora, back to Thunder Bay, to Halifax, to northern BC, and now it is in New Brunswick.

 

This plant has died off several times. Once I froze all of the leaves on it when I was going to be travelling for a couple of weeks so decided to bring it to the hospital where I worked at the time to be cared for.  This would have been a good idea except for the fact that it was in the middle of a northern Ontario winter when I transported it to the hospital!  Another time when I re-potted it, it didn’t like the new pot and all of the leaves withered up and fell off.  Most recently, it picked up an infestation of some sort of insect when I stayed at Dad’s house as I was moving here, and I eventually ended up pulling all of the leaves off in order to treat the soil and scrub the pot with an insecticide.

 

And each time this shamrock plant has seemed to die, it ends up growing back and putting out flowers and bringing me joy.  In 22 years, I have never given up on this plant – I’ve never thought that I should pitch it and start over with a new one. Why would I throw away a living plant?

 

Jesus tells a story about a fig tree growing in a vineyard.  Now the main purpose of fig trees is to produce figs, but over the years, this fig tree has never produced any.  But the gardener doesn’t want to give up on the fig tree.  When the landowner suggests cutting down the tree so that it doesn’t continue to leach nutrients from the soil that might be better left for the grape vines, the gardener pleads on the fig tree’s behalf – he doesn’t want to give up on this tree.  He wants to nurture it along – to give it some extra manure, maybe prune the branches a bit – he thinks that if he gives it a bit of extra attention, then it will produce fruit.

 

I confess that I’ve always found this to be a challenging parable, mostly because of the final line and how it has been interpreted. The gardener says, “If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.”

 

This parable has often been read as a straightforward allegory – the landowner is God, the gardener is Jesus, and we are the fig trees.  When our lives don’t bear fruit, Jesus pleads to the one whom he calls father on our behalf; and God gives us one more chance to bear fruit, but the threat is there that if we don’t bear fruit then we will be cut down like that fig tree.

 

And I don’t know about you, but to me this interpretation paints a very troubling picture of God – of a God who condones violence, who makes our existence conditional on the fruit that we are expected to bear.  And that doesn’t fit with my understanding of a God whose very essence is unconditional love.

 

So I when I read the parable this week, I turned back to look at the situation that made Jesus tell this parable to see if there might be some alternative wisdom in it.

 

Jesus and his disciples are on their way from Galilee in the north, heading south towards Jerusalem, and some people came up to him and told him that Pilate, the Roman governor, had killed a group of Galileans who had been in Jerusalem, offering their sacrifices in the temple, so that the blood of the people was mingled with the blood of the animals that they had sacrificed.

 

And this is an outrageously horrific story.  They should have been able to feel safe there in that place of worship, and instead they were brutally murdered.

 

And it is right when we feel outrage and fear when we hear stories like this.  I can almost hear the unspoken words in this story from the people around Jesus – “What do you want us to do about this horrific massacre?  Shall we rally a group of people together and head off to Jerusalem to kill Pilate in retaliation?  We want to do something!”

 

This story holds particular significance right now if we were to substitute the name Pilate with the name Putin.  Some people came up to Jesus and told him that Putin was killing thousands of innocent people in Ukraine.  And the natural response is outrage and fear and horror, and probably a desire for retaliation.

 

But that isn’t the response that Jesus gives.  First of all, he clarifies that bad things happen in the world – evil is a reality in this world that we live in – and so horrific events that happen don’t happen as a punishment for sin, they happen because of the evil that is in the world.

 

And then Jesus goes on to tell a parable about grace.  The fig tree that isn’t bearing fruit isn’t cut down, but instead is given another chance.  Its story isn’t over yet.  It hasn’t earned the right to this second chance – after all, it hasn’t born any fruit, which is the primary reason for a fig tree to exist – and yet it is being given another chance.  This is the very definition of grace. An unearned, undeserved gift.

 

It is as if Jesus is saying, in response to the massacre, that retaliation isn’t the answer – grace is.  Grace is the only thing that can defeat evil, because grace plays by rules that evil can never understand.

 

I was talking with a friend and colleague this week, trying to figure out where we can see God in what is happening right now in Ukraine.  The first answer that we came up with is the well-known quote from Mr. Rogers, who said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”  And so we can believe that God is working through everyone who is helping in that part of the world – inspiring generosity and giving courage and strength to the helpers.

 

The second answer that we had to where is God in Ukraine goes a bit deeper and maybe touches a bit closer to this story from Luke’s gospel.  That because of Good Friday.  Jesus was killed by the Roman state, represented by Pilate.  And when we believe that Jesus was God in human flesh, then we also have to believe that God was killed by an oppressive foreign power.  And because of this, we have to believe that God is with the people who are being killed by an oppressive foreign power in Ukraine, because God has been there before.

 

And yet even as he was being killed on the cross, Jesus didn’t choose retaliation – he chose grace instead.  He didn’t use the powers of God to zap the ones who were crucifying him and smash the cross to splinters.  Instead he forgave the people who were crucifying him and loved the bandits who were being crucified alongside him.  And on the third day, we saw that grace had indeed defeated evil, and with the Easter resurrection, we have a new source of hope in the world.

 

This isn’t a fast process – you have to go through Good Friday in order to get to Easter; but every Good Friday is always followed by Easter.

 

This also doesn’t mean that it’s easy.  It would be so much easier to retaliate and to repay violence with more or stronger violence.  But unfortunately that will keep perpetuating cycles of violence.  The only way to break the cycle of violence is to refuse to participate in it – to choose grace over retaliation.

 

And not only is this slow, and not only is this hard, it also doesn’t make any sense at all.  Easter makes no sense at all.  Resurrection and new life shouldn’t emerge out of violent death.  But as followers of Jesus, this is the story, this is the narrative that is at the heart of who we are.

 

Some people come up to Jesus and tell him about a horrific massacre that has taken place, and instead of proclaiming the need for retaliation, Jesus tells a parable about grace, he tells a story about a fig tree that is given another chance, despite all of the signs that it should be cut down.

 

And do you notice that the story of the fig tree is open-ended?  We don’t get to find out what happens a year later when the landowner returns to inspect his vineyard.  Does he find the fig tree bearing fruit?  Or is it still stubbornly refusing to produce any figs?  And more importantly, if there are still no figs to be found, what happens next year?  Is the fig tree only given one second-chance?  Does it only have one opportunity to respond to the manure and pruning and extra care?  Because I read this story as a story of grace, and because I believe that God’s grace is without limits, then I also believe that if the landowner returns next year and still doesn’t find fruit, that the gardener will be given another chance to nurture it along.  Because the landowner isn’t going to give up on the fig tree, just as I’m not going to give up on my shamrock plant, and just as God isn’t going to give up on any one of us.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

 

 

“Ukraine Under Attack – Week 4 – March 18, 2022”

Photo Credit:  manhhai on Flickr

 

Some people come up to Jesus and tell him

about a horrific massacre that has taken place…

"Of Hens and Foxes" (sermon)

Sunday March 13, 2022

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Scripture Reading: Luke 13:31-35

Let’s talk chickens.

 

In today’s reading, Jesus says to the people of Jerusalem, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.”

 

This is a verse that was familiar to me, but one that made a lot more sense to me after I had spent some time around chickens.

 

When I lived in Tanzania, my next-door neighbours who were a pair of doctors from England and I kept a flock of chickens.  None of us knew anything about keeping chickens when we began this venture, but we learned as we went along; and I learned a lot, both about chickens and about life, from watching them.

 

We started with just a small flock – 6 hens and a rooster – and the hens were laying well right up until Christmas.  We were getting 5 or 6 eggs a day that we would collect from the laying boxes at the back of the chicken coop and then divide between us.  But then right after Christmas, all of a sudden they stopped laying.  We grumbled about this… “Lazy hens! Why are we feeding you if you aren’t going to give us any eggs?”

 

But then on New Year’s Day, Russ from next door knocked on my back door and said to me, “I’ve figured out why we aren’t getting any eggs.”  We went outside, and I remember that it was a rainy day, and he lifted the vines that we growing over a fence, and there, sitting on a nest with about 20 eggs, was a very wet and very grumpy chicken who wasn’t about to budge.

 

We did move the eggs into the coop for safety, and once we realized that they were still laying in the nest, we marked the eggs that were there so that we could still collect the fresh eggs.  In the end, we ended up with 4 broody hens taking turns sitting on two nests of eggs.  And when they hatched, all four hens took turns co-parenting the flock of chicks, keeping them safe from the dogs on the ground and the fish eagles that would occasionally fly overhead.

 

And so now, when I hear Jesus comparing himself to a mama hen, the image that comes to mind is discovering that nest of eggs in that pouring rain, with a wet and miserable hen sitting on them determined to keep them safe and warm despite the obvious discomfort she was in.

 

One of the biggest threats to chickens and especially chicks in the part of Tanzania where I lived were the fish eagles – they are comparable to our bald eagles in this part of the world in terms of size and appearance.  If you watched the chickens, you knew when there was a fish eagle in the area because the chickens would disappear, hiding under bushes and vines, shooing the chicks ahead of them; and they would stay there until it was safe to come out again.

 

But in this part of the world, I know that one of the biggest threats to chickens comes from the foxes that live around here, which is too bad because I actually quite like foxes.

 

And so I find it very interesting that Jesus also uses fox imagery in what he is saying.  If the people of Jerusalem are like chicks, protected by mama hen Jesus, then Jesus compares King Herod to a fox.

 

Herod was a puppet king, in a position of power, but only in that position because the Roman Emperor wanted him to be there.  Rome had placed Herod in this position because he was seen to be loyal to Rome, and because of his Jewish ancestry they thought that he would hold the respect of the people.  Herod was in a position to do a great deal of harm, or a great deal of good should he so choose… but only for as long as he kept Rome happy.

 

And Herod chose to rule as a despot, living in luxury but afraid of anything or anyone that might take his power away from him.  He was a person to be feared, just as chickens and chicks should be afraid of a fox.

 

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and Holy Week. This journey that he is on is going to end on the cross.  I almost want to take the old metaphor, a fox in a henhouse, and turn it on its head. Instead of a single fox entering a chicken coop full of hens, instead we have Jesus, the lone chicken, entering the city of Herod and his cronies, a city of foxes.  Is it any wonder that the tone of today’s reading is full of anxiety and tension?

 

And Jesus doesn’t turn away from the path in front of him. In fact, he embraces it. Instead of running away from the fox, he wants to march in there and protect all of those chicks who are in danger. I think back to that fish eagle flying overhead, and the mama hen shooing her chicks under the bushes ahead of her, even though she could have kept herself safer by leaving them behind.

 

Jesus said, “How often I have desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”  A fox is mightier than a hen, a fox holds more power in the food chain than a hen does, but why would a chick trust her personal well-being to a fox rather than a mama hen? The fox definitely doesn’t have the chick’s best interests at heart.

 

And why do we turn away from Jesus to put our trust in other things? Why would we put our ultimate trust in the economy… the stock market doesn’t have our best interests at heart.  Why would we put our trust in a charismatic celebrity… they are unlikely to have our best interests at heart.

 

And yet I think that Jesus hits on a very profound truth here. Too often we turn away from that unconditional love that God offers to us; too often we put our trust elsewhere.  Are we afraid to let ourselves be loved and cared for?  Are we afraid of the vulnerability that it takes to let ourselves be loved?

 

There is so much pain and fear in the world these days.  Our hearts overflow with prayers for Ukraine, with tears for everyone who is grieving, with anxiety for what is going to happen with Covid.

 

And into all of this, Jesus offers us an invitation… like chicks, we are called to rest under the loving and protective wings of God.  When everything feels like it is too much, there we can find caring and nurture and rest and unconditional love.

 

Even as he is about to step into the fox’s lair, Jesus says, “How often I have desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.”  May each one of us find our place under those wings, and know that we are loved.  Amen.

 

 

One of the infamous Tanzanian chickens.

This one was named Chanel.

She was beautiful, but not very friendly –

she tended to peck at my feet and my skirt

when I went out to feed them!

What are You Growing These Days?" (Sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

March 6, 2022 – First Sunday in Lent

Scripture:  Deuteronomy 26:1-11

 

 

I suspect that we have one or two gardeners in this congregation… maybe even some farmers or the descendants of farmers.  Maybe you have a large garden, maybe you have a houseplant or two – you are still a gardener.

 

Right now, it is too early to plant any seeds outside.  We need to wait for the snow to melt and the ground to thaw and the ground to dry out before we even think of beginning to work the land.  On this first Sunday in March, it’s probably even too early to begin seeds inside to be transplanted outside later this spring.

 

When you have a garden this far north on the planet, we have to pay attention to the weather and the forecast and the ground conditions and get the timing of our planting and harvesting just right.

 

Now I learned how to garden when I was living on the equator, and it is a whole different game there.  The temperature was pretty consistent for 12 months of the year, and the hours of daylight didn’t change either – 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness no matter what month it was.  But there were still seasons – the seasons are determined by the rainfall.  There was what was called the short rainy season from early September until early December when it rained 3 or 4 mornings a week; followed by a short dry season that lasted until around this time of year.  Then was the long rainy season where it rained almost every morning right through until early June, and then the long dry season lasted until early September where not a drop of rain would fall and the ground would turn to dust.  If you wanted to have a garden, the best time to plant is just as the short rains are starting.  The rain will germinate the seeds and keep your garden alive, but won’t be so heavy as to wash away your tender seedlings.  And it is possible to water a garden every day through the dry season and keep your established plants alive, but the dry season isn’t the time to try and germinate seeds.

 

The book of Deuteronomy is set towards the end of the Israelite people’s 40 years of wandering in the wilderness.  39 years and 11 months ago, Moses led them to freedom from slavery in Egypt, and they crossed through the Red Sea, into the desert.  Moses climbed Mt. Sinai, received the 10 commandments along with the rest of the 600-some-odd laws.  The people complained about not having food or water, and wondered if it might be better to return to Egypt where, even though they were slaves, at least there was food to eat.  They stopped trusting that God would provide for them, that God would lead them, that God would keep them safe.

 

It was a hard lesson for them to learn.  Instead of crossing straight across the desert into the promised land – a journey that might have taken them a month or two – they had to spend 40 years wandering, learning to trust that God was with them.  They weren’t able to grow food for themselves – not only were they nomadic but they were also wandering through a desert that was too dry to grow anything.  But God provided manna for them to eat, along with quails; and God told Moses to strike a rock with his staff and fresh water flowed out of the rock.  My Old Testament professor at AST referred to this time in the wilderness as the “Desert School” for the ancient Israelite people – they spent 40 years at this school, with their primary lesson being learning to trust in God.

 

And Deuteronomy is set right at the very end of those 40 years in the Desert School.  They are at the edge of the Jordan River, poised to cross the river and enter the Promised Land, to cross into a land that will be flowing with milk and honey, to cross into a land of abundance.  But God doesn’t want us to forget the lessons that they have learned – even though food will be easier for them to grow and to find once we have left the desert, God wants us to remember that God is still the source of all of the abundance, even if it is a less obvious way.

 

And so God reminds the people – once we have entered into the promised land, once we are able to grow food for ourselves again, we are to take our first fruits, the very first part of our harvest, and offer this back to God.  We aren’t to offer God the leftovers of our harvest, but the very earliest harvest instead.

 

And this is an act of trust – when you give away the very first of the harvest, you have no way of knowing if the rest of the expected harvest is going to follow.  But this is what God asks for – the first fruits – as a reminder that God is still the source of all of the harvest, even if it doesn’t take the form of manna and quail falling out of the desert sky.

 

Lent is sometimes considered a desert or a wilderness time in the church calendar.  Instead of 40 years in the wilderness, we spend 40 days on this journey towards Easter.  And like I mentioned, our theme here at Two Rivers this year is gardening our souls.  This is a time when we can tend to ourselves – nurturing our connection with God, with one another, and with all of creation.  It is a time when we can look at ourselves and see if there is anything in our lives getting in the way of our flourishing – maybe it is time to do a bit of weeding or pruning.

 

And today’s reading from Deuteronomy invites us to ask the question of ourselves – why are we doing this gardening?  I think that it is important for us to remember the lessons of the Desert School – it is important to remember the source of the good seeds that we plant in our lives, and it is important to remember who empowers us to tend to those seeds.  And God reminds us that we are to offer the first of our harvest, the best of the fruit of our lives, back to God who is the source of all good things.

 

I think that our gardening and seeds metaphor breaks down at some point.  After all, a literal garden can exist on its own without being connected with others.  And I can enjoy the process of gardening, even if I don’t get any harvest at all.

 

But at the same time, I think that there is some truth in the metaphor too. The literal garden that I plant nourishes my body and my spirit, but Deuteronomy calls me to share of my harvest with God, so that others can flourish too.  And the same is true for the metaphorical seeds that I plant. These seeds nourish my soul and my well-being, but I am also called to share the fruit of those seeds with God so that others can flourish too.  And in doing so, I acknowledge two things – that I haven’t gardened on my own, that God is the master gardener who is working within me by the Holy Spirit; and also that we aren’t alone, isolated creatures scattered on the planet, but that we are in community with one another and concerned for the well-being of others.

 

And so as we begin this Lenten journey together, my prayer is that each one of us might plant seeds in our souls, that we might nurture our connection with ourselves, with the people around us, and with God, so that the harvest will be abundant with overflowing goodness that benefits not only ourselves but the whole community of God’s creation.  May it be so.  Amen.

 

 

Ready for seeds

"Lovers in a Dangerous Time" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday February 20, 2022

Scripture Reading:  Luke 6:27-38

 

 

I need to confess that I struggled with this week’s bible reading.  The setting is Jesus’s sermon on the plain – this follows immediately after last week’s reading, and part of Jesus’s teaching the crowds about the great levelling of society.  And it begins with Jesus telling everyone who is listening to him:  “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”

 

Love your enemy.  We are to want the best for people who don’t want the best for us.  But what if my enemy is blocking an international border?  What if my enemy is occupying the streets of the capital city?  What if my enemy wants to end all mandatory masking rules putting me or my child at risk?  What if my enemy is saying hate-filled things and waving racist flags?

 

I can also flip the narrative.  What if my enemy wants to inject my child with a vaccine that I’m not certain about?  What if my enemy is enforcing another Covid lockdown and my mental health isn’t going to survive yet another one.  What if my enemy seems to have had everything handed to them on a silver platter while I have to work my behind off just to keep my head above water?

 

Our world is so divided today, and the divisions are so deeply entrenched.  Neighbour is pitted against neighbour.  Families have been torn apart.  And into this, Jesus says that we are to love our enemies.

 

Surely Jesus didn’t mean this literally, not in the world that we are living in today?

 

If we were to love our enemies today, we would be putting ourselves at risk.  My enemy might be carrying a weapon.  The people with whom I agree might ostracize me for talking to those people.  What might this look like on a practical level?  Does this look like bringing meals to those blocking the border and praying for the people occupying the streets in Ottawa?

 

The stakes are high.  On one hand, loving my enemies is risky; on the other hand, Jesus tells me that I must love my enemies, do good to anyone who hates me, bless anyone who curses me, and pray for anyone who mistreats me.  What would be the consequences if I were to do this?  Deep love is deeply risky.

 

I’ve had a couple of songs running through my brain this week as I’ve pondered this commandment.  The first one is “Lovers in a Dangerous Time” by Bruce Cockburn (click here to hear a fabulous cover version by T. Thomason).  Loving someone is always a dangerous thing to do; loving someone is always a vulnerable thing to do.  In the words of the song, “When you’re lovers in a dangerous time / sometimes you’re made to feel as if your love’s a crime.”

 

And love is what Jesus tells us to do.

 

As I thought about Jesus telling us to love our enemies, I thought about how many times the gospels tell us that Jesus ate a meal with tax collectors.  To the ordinary person living in the time and place of Jesus, tax collectors were the most reviled enemy of all.  Not only were they in the pocket of empire, collecting taxes on behalf of Rome, but they also earned their living by extortion – any money that they could collect above and beyond the regular tax rate would go straight into their pockets.

 

And instead of hating the tax collectors, instead of refusing to have anything to do with them, Jesus went to their houses and shared a meal with them.  He accepted their hospitality, food that was purchased with money extorted from their neighbours.  Jesus joined them at their table and ate their food and conversed with them.  And even worse, some of these tax collectors joined the group of his followers – people like Levi and Matthew and Zacchaeus.

 

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”

 

This is hard, especially because I think that part of our calling as followers of Jesus is to point out and end injustice and oppression in the world.  How can we balance this prophetic call with the call to also love our enemies?

 

This is so hard, but it is what Jesus calls us to do.  If we hate those on the other side of the divides in our world, nothing will ever change.  The divisions will only become deeper.  Cycles of violence will continue.  It is only when someone steps up and is willing to be vulnerable, is willing to love instead of hate, that the cycle of violence can be broken.  Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., preaching on this commandment to love our enemies, once said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”  Bruce Cockburn, writing “Lovers in a Dangerous Time,” phrased it a bit differently:  “you gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.”

 

It’s not easy, loving our enemies.  It’s easy to love the people we like.  It’s harder to love the people we feel neutral towards.  And it’s nearing impossible to love our enemies.  It would be a lot easier to hate those who hate us, and much more in keeping with the way that the world usually works; but Jesus calls us to a different path than the one the world offers.  We are to love our enemies and do good to everyone who hates us.

 

And Jesus did this right to the end of his own life.  Jesus died by crucifixion – by being nailed to a cross and left there to die through a combination of exposure and heart and lung failure, the breath literally squeezed out of him.  It is a horrible way to die.  By all rights, Jesus should have hated the people who did this to him.  But as he was being nailed to the cross, Jesus forgave the people who were doing this to him.  With his dying breath, he chose a path of love instead of a path of hatred.

 

I don’t have a nice and tidy conclusion to this sermon.  I can’t present you with an easy 5-step plan for loving our enemies then wrap it up and tie a bow around it.  Loving our enemies is hard, verging on the impossible.

 

There is a glimmer of good news though.  We don’t have to do it alone and solely by our own efforts.  The Holy Spirit, God working in the world, is working in each one of us, closer to us than our very breath.  And the Holy Spirit is also dwelling in those whom we name as our enemies.  That divine spark in us can recognize the divine spark in others, if we open ourselves up to allow that recognition to happen.  And when we collaborate with the Holy Spirit, the thing that seemed impossible can become possible.  And we will be able to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who mistreat us.  We will be able to break the cycle of violence, we will be able to shift the narrative a little bit towards love, and we will maybe, just maybe, be able to lessen the divisions in the world today.

 

I mentioned earlier that I had a couple of songs running through my brain this week.  The first one was “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”  Let me end this reflection with the other half of my brain’s soundtrack, this time coming from The Beatles.

 

“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

 

May it be so.  Amen.

 

 

“Evan Solomon of CTV broadcasts from Ottawa on the Convoy Protest”

Photograph by Ross Dunn on Flickr

CC BY-SA 2.0

(A bit of the context for what is going on in Canada this weekend.)

"The Power to Heal" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday February 13, 2022 – 6^th Sunday After Epiphany

Scripture Reading:  Luke 6:17-26

 

 

One of the most famous parts of the bible comes from the Gospel of Matthew – the Sermon on the Mount. Now the Sermon on the Mount goes on for almost three full chapters, but it is the first 12 verses that are the most famous – the Beatitudes – the long list of blessings.

 

Today, we heard the Gospel of Luke’s version of the same teaching – definitely less famous than Matthew’s version, possibly because it makes us slightly uncomfortable to have the blessings paired with an equal but opposite list of woes.  We have “blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God”; but we also have “woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”  We have “blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled,” paired with “woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.”  We have a blessing on those who weep, for they will laugh; and woe to those who are laughing now for they will mourn and weep.  And finally a blessing for those whoa re hated and excluded and reviled; and woe to everyone who is spoken well of.

 

And what is fascinating about Luke’s version of this sermon is that Jesus isn’t delivering it on a mountain the way he is in Matthew’s gospel – instead, Luke’s setting is on a plain, on a level place, on a wide open field.  There, on that level place, Jesus proclaims a great levelling where the poor and lowly will be lifted up, and the rich and mighty will be brought down.

 

As I read this passage this week, I was reminded of the song that Mary sings, back in chapter 1 of the Gospel of Luke – the one that beings with “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,” but then goes on to proclaim that the powerful have been brought down from their thrones, the lowly have been lifted up, the hungry have been filled with good things, and the rich have been sent away empty.

 

Mary originally sang this song when she found out that she was going to carry and give birth to and raise the son of God; and I wonder if she sang this song to Jesus as she carried him inside her body.  I wonder if she sang it to him as a lullaby when he was a baby.  I wonder if this song was the background to his childhood.  I wonder if Jesus was so surrounded by this teaching from his mother, this teaching of a great levelling, before he even had conscious thought, so that it became part of his own teaching.  The poor and lowly and hungry will be lifted up, and the rich and mighty and wasteful will be brought down from their places of power.

 

But what really fascinated me about this week’s reading was the lead-in to the blessings and the woes.  Jesus and his disciples have been up on a mountain, spending some time in prayer, and they come down the mountain onto the plain, where they are surrounded by a great multitude of people, a huge crowd.  And this huge crowd hasn’t come to this place to hear Jesus’s teaching – no, they’ve come here because of his reputation as a healer.  “And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.”

 

There was a movie that came out a couple of years ago called The Healer.  I watched it because I was curious about it, since part of it was filmed on the campus of AST when I was a student there – the campus was frequently used as a movie set, and I remember that that this one involved converting one of the old buildings to a police station and there was a prop police car parked on campus for several weeks.

 

Anyways, in this movie, the main character discovers that he has inherited the family gift for healing, and while the plot focuses on medical healing – reviving the town priest after a heart attack, and healing a young girl from cancer.  But there are also examples of less tangible forms of healing – joy and hope and faith being restored.  And in the end, the main character has to embrace this gift that he has been given – the healing powers that he has to share with the world.  The closing credits tell the viewer that healers do exist, leaving the door open to how we can understand healing to be more than just curing someone.

 

Let’s leave the movie and jump back to Jesus healing people there on the plain.  Jesus is healing people, and then all of a sudden launches into his teaching about blessings and woes, his teaching about the great levelling of society.  And I have to wonder if these two parts of our reading today are connected.  I wonder if Jesus is teaching these blessings and woes as an example of healing on a societal level.  Society can be healed when the playing field is levelled – when people who have been pushed down because of racism or poverty or their gender or their sexual orientation; when people who have been pushed down are raised up; and when people who have had privilege because of our language or education or skin colour or nationality are willing to share our privilege with others, to give some of our privilege away, when we are willing to make space for others.  Then healing can happen.

 

We’ve been talking this winter about how we, as the church, are called to be the Body of Christ; and part of our calling is to take part in Christ’s work of healing.  Sometimes this healing might look like physical healing – I know that we have nurses and lab techs and other medical professionals in our congregations.  But sometimes that healing takes other forms, like correcting injustices, and bringing joy, and like we talked about earlier with St. Valentine, reminding people that they are loved.

 

In a couple of minutes, we are going to be gathering around the communion table – a communion table that in this time of Covid is so big that it stretches into each one of our homes this morning – and I think that this simple meal of bread and wine can be part of the healing ministry of the church.  We practice an open table where everyone is invited to the feast – no matter what you think you have done, or what you think you haven’t done, you are welcome at this table.  And through the bread and the wine we are reminded that we are loved.  And through the bread and the wine we are strengthened for the journey we are on.  And through the bread and the wine, our hope is nurtured, as we trust that a time is coming when the whole world will be well fed.

 

And so my prayer for all of us today is that we might find the healing that we seek, but also that we might be strengthened, as the church, to be a healing presence in the world.  May we, as the church, become more and more like Jesus so that power can go out of us to heal the world.  Amen.

 

 

“jesus heals”

Dan Germain

CC BY-SA 2.0