The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada will host its fourth National Event in Saskatoon at Prairieland Park, June 21-24, 2012. This is an opportunity for all Canadians, both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, to learn more about and bear witness to the legacy of the residential school system.

This National Event will help to unveil the unique experiences of residential school survivors from Saskatchewan. Survivors, both direct and intergenerational, former school staff and others affected by the schools are invited to come forward and provide private and/or public statements about the impact of residential schools on their lives, that of their families and of their communities.

All members of the public are invited to observe the proceedings as witnesses. The role of a witness is to observe or account for the significance of the event. Bearing witness to the thought provoking statements of residential school survivors and others helps to validate the survivor experience and brings us on a path towards reconciliation.

The Presbyterian Church in Canada, along with other churches and the Canadian government was involved in the residential school system for Aboriginal children, and therefore it is critical for us to be involved in the process of truth-telling, healing, and reconciliation which is the aim of the TRC.

The Presbyterian Church operated several schools before 1925 and the formation of the United Church of Canada. In 1908, over 500 Aboriginal children were attending Presbyterian schools. After the formation of the United Church, the Presbyterian Church continued to operate two schools: Birtle school in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and Cecilia Jeffrey school near Kenora, Ontario. These schools, which had opened in 1883 and 1902 respectively, continued to operate until the 1970s.

Here are some ways that you can be involved in the TRC:

• Go to the trc.ca website and learn more. Read the TRC’s interim report which is available on the website.
• Plan to attend the National Event in June which will be held at Prairieland Park in Saskatoon. The event will include many opportunities to learn about the schools, to listen to the stories of those who attended the schools or who have been affected by their legacy, and to experience the gifts of Aboriginal cultures to our communities.
• Consider volunteering during the National Event. Register as a volunteer by going to trc.ca, clicking on the “Saskatchewan National Event” button, and filling in the volunteer form. If you would like to volunteer as an official listener in the Church Listening Area (meeting one-on-one with survivors and listening to their stories with respect and compassion) contact Rev. Amanda Currie (242-0525, email hidden; JavaScript is required).
• Attend the Presbyterian Luncheon on Saturday, June 23^rd NOON – 2 pm at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, 436 Spadina Crescent E, Saskatoon. RSVP to the church office at St. Andrew’s by Saturday, June 16^th (242-0525, email hidden; JavaScript is required). This event is planned for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Presbyterians to be together, to share food and fellowship, and to join in a sharing circle. Special guests will include Chief Norma Johnstone of Mistawasis First Nation and the Rev. Dr. John Vissers, Moderator of the 138^th General Assembly, along with other national representatives of the PCC and the Women’s Missionary Society.

The Session of St. Andrew’s has agreed to encourage donations to buy t-shirts for the campers this summer, and we hope that you will want to help out. For only $10 you can buy a shirt for a camper, and for $100 you can buy shirts for a whole cabin group! Our goal is to raise enough money for 250 shirts. (That’s just about one shirt per member of St. Andrew’s!)

When you donate $10 we will hang another “shirt” on the clothes line and put your first name on it. If you donate $100 we’ll put a really big shirt on the line to represent your really big gift.

When I finished secondary school the world was a different place from what it is today. The globe was divided into three “worlds”: the first or “free” world, the second or communist world, and the third world. The first and second worlds had been in a so-called Cold War for over forty years, and competed with each other for the loyalty of the third world. By the time I started my first year of university relations between the main antagonists of the Cold War—the USA and the USSR—had improved a bit. Mostly this was because the Soviet Premier, Mikhail Gorbachev, had made efforts to reform his country’s economy and allow more openness in society. Still, when I turned 18 in late October of 1989 there was no reason to think that the Cold War would end anytime soon.

But then one day, the world changed.

I will never forget walking into the TV room of my university residence on 9th November 1989—what I saw on the screen was a picture I’d never have imagined. People were standing on top of the Berlin Wall in front of the Brandenburg Gate. People were standing and cheering and laughing and hugging each other on a place where only the previous day they would have been shot outright. It was unbelievable.

As I tell my students in my first-year European History survey, within eight weeks of the “fall” of the Berlin Wall, the communist regimes of central Europe had essentially collapsed—mostly non-violently. At a stroke, it seemed, the Cold War was over. Premier Gorbachev said as much at Stanford University Business School in February 1990. European and North American statesmen and stateswomen got together later that same year to celebrate the dawn of a new era. At the end of their meetings they released what they called A Charter for a New Europe.

The document opened with a ringing affirmation that things were different:
Europe is liberating itself from the legacy of the past. The era of confrontation and division of Europe has ended. After two disastrous world wars and decades of Cold-War tension, peace was at hand—so it seemed.

But peace was not at hand. Peace was not at hand for the people of southeastern Europe, for the people of Sarajevo, Srebrenica, Mostar, Kosovo and Belgrade.
The world was different, the Cold War was over, communism as a political force in European politics had collapsed, but there was still conflict, still confrontation and division. The world was different, but sadly all too similar to before.

Events like the end of the cold war and its shattered promise of peace make me wonder about the sort of change that really lasts, that really makes a difference.
It is really the case that the more things change the more they stay the same?
The gospel reading for today invites us to think about Big Events and about what is different and what is the same afterwards.

What can we do, what ought we to do, in light of world-altering change? World-altering change need not be only the result of the sort of Big Events I’ve been talking about so far, like the end of the Cold War, or September 11. There are Big Events for our community, our families, and our church.

What should we conserve? What should we cast aside? And, the question arises from our Gospel reading: what new thing, what new challenge does the marvellous, unexpected and transformative reality of the Risen Jesus call us to embrace?

The gospel reading for today reminds us that the Risen Jesus gives us freedom (and power) to risk what we thought was forever for the unfolding reality of God’s purpose for us and for the world (repeat).

There are two aspects of the story in Luke 24 I want to highlight. One is about the difference the resurrection makes for understanding who Jesus is. The text is very clear—the risen Jesus is the same person as the crucified Jesus. In the story, the disciples are gathered together on Easter Sunday evening, having just heard from the two disciples who’d met Jesus on the road to Emmaus.

While they were trying to get their heads around this news, suddenly there was Jesus himself, standing in their midst. They were terrified and incredulous. They couldn’t believe their eyes—they thought they were seeing a ghost—an ethereal creature from the world of the dead.

But no, Jesus was not a ghost—the Risen Jesus had—has—a body one can touch and see. “Look at my hands and my feet” Jesus said, “see that it is I myself.” Touch me and feel that I’m real!

Jesus then proved he’s a body not a ghost by asking for a snack; before his disciples eyes he ate a piece of cooked fish. No ghost could do that, only someone with a body. Still, the disciples did not really get it; they couldn’t really believe that it was Jesus. “In the joy of their disbelieving” says Luke, meaning they thought it was just too good to be true.

But it was true; it really was Jesus. The same person crucified on Good Friday is standing before the disciples on Easter Sunday evening. He is the same, but he’s also different. He has a body, a body his followers can see and touch, a body that can take on solid food, but also a body that can suddenly “be” amongst them.

The Risen Jesus has a body that identifies him as Jesus (the crucified one) but that is not identical to his old body. It’s the same AND it’s different. What the disciples thought was real and forever—Jesus is dead—wasn’t the case: Jesus was alive. But he was newly alive, differently alive than they had ever imagined was possible. God had raised Jesus to a new kind of life—one where he was the same person but also really, radically different.

To convince the disciples of this, Jesus turned their attention from his body to the Bible. “Everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the prophets and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Here too was some new out of something old, the “Old Testament” to be exact. Jesus opened his disciples’ minds to show them that what the Bible was all about all along was what had happened to him—God’s anointed one, God’s champion on earth, God’s Messiah, must suffer and die and then be raised.

The disciples, and the people more generally hadn’t seen that in the Scriptures in that way before—they thought Messiah was supposed come and liberate God’s people from their suffering and oppression. Not suffer and die a shameful death. The message of Scripture, Jesus was saying, is that God’s servant gets beaten up, rejected, afflicted, cursed and killed—and that this has been God’s plan all along. In fact, it completes or “fulfills” what’s been happening in Scripture up till then. Jesus’ life and mission were line with God’s plans from the very beginning, going all the way back to Abraham, and Moses and David and all the prophets like Isaiah.

Jesus began his ministry in his hometown synagogue by reading from the Isaiah scroll:
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners… Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. 21He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4. 18-20, 21)

Peter echoes this message in Acts 3 to the crowd that had gathered around him after healing the disabled man at the Temple: Jesus was rejected by his own people; his own people killed him, but God raised him from the dead. “This is how God fulfilled what he had foretold all through the prophets…” That was the unexpected message—that the Messiah should suffer and die was really the completion of God’s plan all along.

Jesus’ ministry was an offer—repent and receive God’s forgiveness. Turn your life around and accept God’s welcome—come to the banquet that’s prepared for everyone who wants to join in! And here came another unexpected thing: the thrust of the message is expansive—goes out—and inclusive. The offer of repentance is for all people. Forgiveness is for the whole world. Jesus’ ministry was in line with God’s plan for his people Israel and the whole world. Now, after Easter, after seeing and hearing the Risen Jesus, responsibility for that mission falls to the disciples, to the Church, to you and to me.

What new thing, what new challenge does the marvellous, unexpected and transformative reality of the Risen Jesus call us to embrace? For one thing, it calls us to live out the expansive and inclusive thrust of the gospel. It starts in Jerusalem but is for the whole world. It starts with what and who we are, and dares us to be and to think different in light of the new reality of the Risen Jesus.
The Risen Jesus gives us freedom (and power) to risk what we thought was forever for the unfolding reality of God’s purpose for us and for the world.

God’s purpose is expansive and inclusive—it is for all people. But it starts with particular people at a certain place at a certain time: a few dozen disciples in Jerusalem. A few dozen Presbyterians in central Saskatoon. God starts with people willing to risk what they thought was forever for the unfolding reality of God’s purpose for us and for the world. Like a handful of young people who probably imagined that they would live and die in Galilee, that what they knew would last forever, that is until they encountered Jesus the Christ.

Change happens, some of it massive and monumental; some of it tiny and incremental. What new thing, what new challenge does the marvellous, unexpected and transformative reality of the Risen Jesus call us to embrace?
This province, this city, is not what it was a decade ago. Change has come to Saskatchewan, and for many people, the changes have been very good. But the times have not been equally good for everyone.

This is a reality Stewart Folster and the staff at Native Circle Ministry encounter almost every day. The “Saskaboom” has tripled the value of many peoples’ homes while leaving others homeless. Revd Folster challenged us a few weeks ago with some radical proposals to deal with the Ministry’s impending deficit: seek funding from Aboriginal-run casinos; partner with non-Christian communities. Can we even imagine such things? On the other hand, could the disciples have imagined that first Easter Sunday that before too long they would be worshipping with foreigners—basically the enemies of their people—and that they would cast aside centuries of tradition for the sake of welcoming non-Jews into the Church?

God starts with people willing to risk what they thought was forever for the unfolding reality of God’s purpose for us and for the world. The disciples encountered the Risen Jesus and it transformed what they understood about God’s plans for them and for the world. The world changed, and they were changed. But not totally—they were still the same people, doing the same sort of work for God that God had been inspiring and empowering and challenging all along. Similar to the Risen Jesus—they were different but still the same.
Like so many people in Europe, Corrie Ten Boom’s life was changed profoundly by the Second World War. In 1972 she penned a short account about a personal risk she took just after the War for the sake of God’s expansive and inclusive purposes.

It was in a church in Munich that I saw him, a balding heavy-set man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives. … And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man.

I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp where we were sent. … “You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,” he was saying. “I was a guard in there.” No, he did not remember me. “But since that time,” he went on, “I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein, …” his hand came out, … “will you forgive me?”

And I stood there — I whose sins had every day to be forgiven — and could not. Betsie had died in that place — could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? It could not have been many seconds that he stood there, hand held out, but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do. For I had to do it — I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us.

“If you do not forgive men their trespasses,” Jesus says, “neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.” … And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion — I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. “Jesus, help me!” I prayed silently. “I can lift my hand, I can do that much. You supply the feeling.”

And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes. “I forgive you, brother!” I cried. “With all my heart!” For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely as I did then.1

“This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”

That day in 1947, Corrie Ten Boom took a huge risk; she risked forgiveness and was a witness to the reality of Easter and the risen Jesus. Lord, make us witnesses of your peace. Amen.

1 Guidepost article ©1972 “I’m Still Learning to Forgive”

Saskatchewan Presbyterian Youth (SPY) will be holding a weekend about food and faith on April 27-29 at Knox Presbyterian Church in Briercrest, SK. All youth from grade 7 to age 25 are invited to participate. The cost of the weekend is $50 per person, and assistance with the fee is available if needed. Deadline for registering is Sunday, April 22nd!

Spring Tea & Bake Sale: The Women’s League of St. Andrew’s will be hosting their annual Spring Tea and Bake Sale in the lower hall of the church on Saturday, April 28^th from 2:00-4:00 pm. Everyone is welcome! ***Donations of baking are appreciated.***

The fourth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles provides us with an idyllic picture of the church at the beginning: “The whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul.” Now that’s unity! They were “of one heart and soul.” Of course, maybe that’s because there weren’t very many of them yet. They were just a small group of disciples who had a lot in common with each other and managed to keep the same perspective on most things.

Well, no. They weren’t that small a group. Even before the day of Pentecost when the Spirit was poured out on the gathered disciples, there were about a hundred of them waiting together in Jerusalem. And after that, the church grew in leaps and bounds!

And no, they weren’t all fishermen from Galilee. Remember the Jews from all the nations of the world who were in Jerusalem to celebrate the feast of Pentecost? And remember how they heard the disciples speaking in their own various languages? After Peter’s first sermon to the crowd, apparently 3000 believers were added to their number, and more and more every day after that!

By the fourth chapter of Acts, the church must have numbered around 5000 people, and it would have included people from various countries, cultures, languages, and backgrounds. They were probably mostly Jewish Christians – but still, it’s pretty amazing that they were getting along well and unified in heart and soul.

The account tells us that “those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned land or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.”

I wonder if it was really like that. I wonder if it really could have been that perfect, or if the description in Acts is more like a “those were the days” memory of the beginning of things. I’ve heard people talk about the “good old days” of the church and the “good old days” of society too. The ministers always preached powerful and inspiring sermons. The children and young people came to church every Sunday, sometimes twice. The women’s group had plenty of volunteers. And the offering plate was full even though the people had way less disposable income to give.

And in society… neighbours knew each other and looked out for each other’s children, and you didn’t have to lock your doors, and people visited each other instead of just texting back and forth, and oh yes, they said the Lord’s prayer in school each morning.

Sometimes it’s nice to look back and remember the good old days. But if we’re honest, we’ll also remember some things that weren’t quite as good… people with disabilities who were treated poorly, women who were not given the same opportunities as their brothers, minority groups that were discriminated against or harassed, Native Canadians who were considered to be uncivilized and were treated accordingly.

Bit by bit, and step by step, we’ve come a long way since those “good old days.” We’ve probably lost some aspects of our churches and society that we believe made us strong, but we’ve also made a lot of changes that are for the better.

And the early Christian church changed too. It wasn’t long before they realized that they weren’t living up to the ideal of “there was no needy person among them.” Soon some of the widows were being neglected in the distribution of food and they had to make some changes in roles and responsibilities in order to fix the problem.

They basically came up with the role of deacons or diaconal ministry in the church – specific people with the task of serving the community and making sure that no one was left out. It would be nice if everyone could just get taken care of automatically, but sometimes these things take some co-ordination so they had to make a change.

I wonder if they argued over the change… It doesn’t say anything about an argument in the book of Acts, but you know how difficult change can be in any organization! Did they bad-mouth each other and blame each other for a while before figuring out a solution to the problem? Or did they just get down to work together to fix it?

By the time the letter known as 1^st John was written, there was no doubt that the Christian Church was no longer the perfect, loving, unified community that it once was – if it ever really was like that. By the early 2^nd century, the church had not only grown and spread, but it had diversified significantly. There would have been all kinds of different perspectives on God, on Jesus, on how Jesus’ followers should live, and what the purpose of the church should be.

In a very real way, one of the main purposes of the various letters that we read in the New Testament, was to attempt to bring the church together. The apostles wanted to give instruction and guide the dispersed Christians in the way of Jesus. They wanted to clarify what Christians were supposed to believe, and keep them from getting led astray by false doctrines.

Letters like 1^st John were written, not for a particular Christian church in a particular town, but they were written as pastoral letters to be circulated through the various churches. As the various communities read these same letters, their leaders hoped that they would come to share in the same faith and hope, and that they would be drawn together in unity.

And so the authors of the pastoral letter wrote: “We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life.” They’re talking about Jesus, of course. And they’re claiming the authority of having known him themselves. Christ is not simply an idea, or a Spirit that hovers about. But Jesus was a human person who lived, and loved, and died, and was raised. These authors are saying that they knew him, and saw him, and touched him, and they want to share what they know.

They continue: “We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us.” They are drawing more people into the Christian community, we might assume. Or perhaps, they are sharing their perspective with Christians from whom they have become estranged. Maybe they disagreed about something and cut off the fellowship. Maybe they had an argument and decided to part ways.

But these early Christians believe that being in relationship with one another is of utmost importance. And the way to initiate that relationship is to begin by sharing their faith in Jesus Christ. They want to have fellowship with their estranged sisters and brothers, and they realize that the way to establish that fellowship is through their shared fellowship with God and Jesus Christ.

If I love God, and he loves God, then we must be able to love one another! It’s like when you get married to someone, you can’t really marry them without coming into relationship with their family, and their best friends, and all those that they care about.

As much as I imagine that these early Christian leaders were pretty content with their faith, they are writing the letter “so that [their] joy may be complete.” The Christian community cannot experience true joy when there remains conflict, division, and estrangement among its members and groups.

The letter known as first John uses the image of God as light – a significant image that the authors probably picked up from the Gospel of John where Christ is the light shining into the darkness of the world. They explain that “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” And so, they argue “if we say that we have fellowship with God while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true.”

Of course, light exposes our deeds. Light reveals the truth. Light requires us to do what is right. If we’re walking with God, we’re walking in the light, the letter writers say. If we’re walking in darkness, keeping our actions secret, doing what we want because no one can see us and call us on it, then we’re not walking with God. That’s all there is to it.

On the other hand, if we will walk in the light, as God is in the light, then our actions will be exposed, and we will be called to do what is right, and we will be able to restore our relationships and enjoy fellowship with one another because we will have put away the sins and errors that caused our conflict in the first place.

Unity does not mean uniformity. And fellowship does not mean that we are all exactly the same as each other, or that we agree with each other all the time. Unity means that we agree on the big stuff, on the broad strokes of what it means to be followers of Jesus together. And fellowship means that we stay together and keep on working out the details together. It means keeping mind that if I love God, and she loves God, then we have to be able to figure out a way to love one another because we share in the same fellowship with God and Jesus Christ.

As a member of an interchurch marriage, I often get focussed on what I believe is the very important task of working towards the unity of the whole Christian church. The disagreements and divisions between the churches throughout history are a scandal, and the churches need to work together to mend the brokenness in the one body of Christ.

But I also realize that there is a great deal of work yet to be done within the Presbyterian Church in Canada – to build relationships between congregations, clergy, and ministries in different parts of the country and perhaps with different ways of doing things.

And there must always be attention paid to the unity of each congregation and community within the congregation. That means developing good communication patterns. It means creating opportunities for input and discussion on important decisions. It means listening to one another, and seeking to understand. And it means engaging with the community in ways that are respectful of our neighbours, whether we agree with them or not.

As the early Christian church was unified, and yet struggled with disagreement and division, our congregation will likely always need to work on living together in unity and common purpose. Bit by bit, we will continue to change (as the early church changed as well) and hopefully, most of those changes will be for the better.

As we continue the journey together, may God’s Spirit give us the power to forgive one another, and to grow in unity as God’s people in this place. Amen.

I guess it wouldn’t have been unusual for the crowds to gather near Bethany, just outside Jerusalem. Especially in the days leading up to one of the great festivals, people would come out of their homes to welcome the pilgrims. There would have been lots of pilgrims on the road, making their way from the little towns and villages, going up to Jerusalem to worship at the temple.

For many it would have been a long journey, something for which they had planned and anticipated, perhaps for years. They walked with their families and friends, camping beside the road, and sharing provisions with others that they met along the way.

When the pilgrims got to Bethany they knew that they were almost there, and the excitement was palpable. Those who lived nearby came out to greet them, almost as if they were in a parade. And I imagine the people singing as they walked, singing the joyful pilgrimage psalms written especially for occasions such as these: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!”

And so Jesus came into Jerusalem. He and his friends joined in the procession and were greeted by the singing and cheering crowds as they went up to Jerusalem to celebrate God’s mercy and love at the Passover.

But as the Gospel writers tell the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, they tell us in various ways that this was no ordinary procession. This was a parade like no other because it was Jesus who was the focal point of all the attention.

Mark’s version of the story describes the parade only briefly. But first he goes into great detail about getting the donkey for Jesus to ride on. Jesus sends two disciples ahead into the village, and he tells them where they will find a young donkey (a colt) tied up. Maybe it was at the house of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, Jesus’ friends from Bethany. If anyone asks why they are taking it, the disciples are to respond, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.”

There are a couple of interesting things about that. First: Why did Jesus need the colt? Not because he was tired of walking, but because it was a symbolic action to ride in on a donkey. Riding, rather than walking, was a sign of royalty. Riding a donkey, rather than a big horse, was a sign of a king who came in peace rather than war. Riding on an animal that had never before been ridden was a sign of a great honour.

And Jesus was starkly contrasted from the Roman authorities of the day by the fact that he promised to return the animal right away. Roman commanders would have marched in and taken what they needed without thought for the people who depended on the animals for their livelihood.

And so, in such a simple action of riding into the city on the back of a donkey, Jesus casts himself in the role of the King of peace who is above all, and yet shows respect and care for his people.

And as he approaches, the people do something special, something they wouldn’t have normally done for the other pilgrims. They take off their cloaks and spread them on the roadway. They cut leafy branches and put them down on the road where he will soon pass by.

And like in any religious procession, they sing praises to God: “Hosanna! Hosanna to the King! Hosanna! Hosanna to the King!” But now these words have added meaning, for Jesus is showing himself to be the one for whom they have been waiting. Jesus is the ancestor of David, the long-awaited King of righteousness and peace, the blessed one who comes in the name of the Lord.

On Palm Sunday, we are invited to place ourselves within the crowds on that festive day. We can imagine ourselves taking off our coats and spreading them out on the dusty road. We don’t care if they get dirty and dusty. We just want to give praise and honour to Jesus our Lord. But we must also ask ourselves, as Matt asked the children this morning: What can we do to honour Jesus today?

Of course, we can sing our praise to him. On Palm Sunday, indeed on every Sunday, we can dedicate ourselves to worshipping God in Jesus Christ. We can sing out loud (no matter what our voices sound like) and praise God like we mean it. And in our music God will be glorified.

We can honour Christ is quieter ways as well. When we set aside this time on Sunday mornings and at other times throughout the week to pause and to acknowledge God’s presence and power, we also honour Christ. When we remove ourselves from the rush of our daily lives, and we give our attention to what God might say to us today, we honour Christ.

Many Christians discover other ways to honour Christ through the ministries of the church. They dedicate time and attention to visiting the sick, teaching the children, praying for those in trouble or grief, giving to missions and ministries within and beyond our congregation, and using their gifts of hospitality to serve one another and the wider community. When we do all these things, we honour Christ our Lord.

As we discussed in our “Growing God’s Gifts” program, discovering our spiritual gifts and talents is just the first step. It’s when we begin to make use of our gifts to serve God and our neighbours that we truly praise and honour Christ.

When you use your gift of listening to care for a neighbour or a colleague who is hurting… you honour Christ.

When you use your gift of hospitality to welcome newcomers to Canada and help them to feel at home… you honour Christ.

When you use your gift of leadership to orient a new staff member or to encourage your company to make good, ethical decisions… you honour Christ.

When you use your gift of prayer to bring comfort and encouragement to someone who is feeling alone… you honour Christ.

When you use your gift of social justice by working with the poor, or advocating for the oppressed, or voting to care for those who are in need, rather than for those who have more than they need… you honour Christ.

When you use your gift of evangelism by sharing your faith in word, in action, and by example… you honour Christ.

These are things that so many of you are already doing week by week and day by day. And so, we simply pause to give thanks for all these gifts of the Spirit and all these efforts to put our gifts to good use for the glory of God.

Palm Sunday is a critical moment in our faith. It’s a moment when we raise our voices to praise Jesus our King with our songs and with our lives. But we are also so very aware of what follows the triumphal entry for Jesus and his friends.

The voices that sang out so joyfully and loud are silenced. The feet that ran and danced beside him on the road are scattered away. The praise and honour that was so freely given is quickly retracted when following Jesus becomes so dangerous.

One reflection that I read on this text suggested that the people had “fallen in love” with Jesus, but they hadn’t yet learned to LOVE him. The author said that “falling in love” is about that wonderful feeling you get in your heart – the flutter, the excitement, the wonderful anticipation… But learning TO LOVE is something different. It’s the faithfulness and commitment to relationship and care that may well begin with falling in love. But then it grows, and settles, and becomes steady and sure. And no matter what happens – the good, the bad, the predictable, and the unexpected – love remains, love stays by your side, love is there.

I know… not everyone comes to the special worship services that we have during Holy Week. Perhaps they seem like something extra for those who are especially “in love” with Jesus. But really, they are for everyone… for everyone who has experienced the faithful, steady love of God in Jesus Christ, and for everyone who seeks to respond to his love by loving in return.

As we journey through this week, we will walk with Jesus past the cheering crowds and into the difficulties that will follow. We will allow him to love us by washing our feet and serving us a holy meal. And we will stay with him through the agony of betrayal, denial, abandonment, and death. We will share in his suffering, as so often he has shared in ours. And then, on the third day, we will share in his joy and gladness as well.

As the people once spread their coats on the roadway to honour Christ the King, let us also do all that we can to praise and honour our Lord – with our songs, in our lives, by loving him and walking with him all the way. Amen.

In the Lectionary Story Bible that I read from with the children this morning, there’s a note to parents and leaders just after today’s readings. “Each of the Gospels,” it explains, “tells the key story of Jesus’ crucifixion… The sixth Sunday in Lent was traditionally observed as ‘Palm Sunday” focusing on the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. In order that people may also hear the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, many churches focus this Sunday on the story of Jesus’ death as well.”

And here’s the warning to parents and leaders: “Please read this story carefully before you share it with children. Some of them may find it upsetting.” Some of them may find it upsetting. Imagine that! It’s the story of Jesus – and they’ve heard about him often enough. He’s the one who loves children and welcomes them. He’s the one who heals people and multiplies a feast so that everyone is well fed. He’s the one that they are told loves them, and they are encouraged to love him also.

And now, in this rather upsetting story, Jesus is being unjustly accused, unfairly arrested, shockingly tortured, and ultimately killed on a cross. It’s not surprising that some children might be upset. Some adults might get riled up by it too, if we’re paying attention.

I think the problem is that we’ve gotten so used to the death of Jesus. We’ve come to expect it, and even to accept it. It doesn’t shock or horrify us anymore. And we’ve gotten quite used to calling the day he died “Good Friday.”

Compared to the other accounts of Jesus’ death in the synoptic Gospels, the author of John’s Gospel portrays Jesus as very strong and confident as he goes to the cross. The Jesus of Mark and Matthew’s Gospels is clearly upset. He cries out to God from the cross, saying “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus maintains his composure, praying that God will forgive those who are crucifying him and then just before he dies, crying out to God to receive his spirit.

But in John’s account, Jesus speaks to his mother and the beloved disciple and tells them, essentially, to look after each other. And then after requesting a sip of wine, he declares “It is finished,” he bows his head, and he dies. Jesus had a job to do, a mission to be accomplished, and it is finished. He has completed it. Today’s Gospel reading points towards that mission and invites us to ponder how Jesus’ death accomplished it.

Clearly, in our Gospel reading, Jesus is not looking forward to the completion of his mission. He may know exactly what he’s doing, and he may know that it has to be done, but he’s certainly not excited about it. He’s troubled by what is going to happen next. He’s tempted to back out of the plan. But he knows that this has always been his mission, and he wants to glorify God.

Jesus has gone up to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover with his disciples. And among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks, John’s Gospel tells us. They came to Philip… and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus.

And that’s how Jesus knew that it was time. When Philip and Andrew come to him and tell him that some Greeks wish to see him, Jesus somehow knows that the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. There isn’t a lot of explanation about how he knows that it’s time. But for some reason, when these Greeks come wanting to see him, he knows that everyone needs to see him. And the only way to accomplish that is for Jesus to die so that he can draw all people to [himself].

Jesus tries to explain it to his first disciples, and we listen in and try to understand as well: Very truly, I tell you, Jesus says, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

We hear it all the time… Jesus died for us. Jesus died to save us. Jesus died and was raised so that we might have life. But what do we mean when we say this? Why did Jesus’ feel that his death was necessary? How did Jesus’ death somehow draw all people to himself? In what sense is Jesus’ death for us, or to save us?

The fact is that different churches and different theologians explain it in different ways. In fact, the four Gospels explain it different ways, and the apostle Paul has a different take on it too. But for today, let’s look at John’s perspective. According to John’s Gospel, Jesus is like a grain of wheat that falls into the earth and dies. And because it dies, it bears much fruit. Jesus has to die, John’s Gospel argues, because when he dies, and when he is lifted up for all people to see, he will draw all people to himself. He will draw all people to God.

In a reflection on this text in “Feasting on the Word,” Charles Campbell argues that John is not really concerned with the forgiveness of individual sins. John isn’t saying that Jesus had to die so that God would forgive you for the bad things you’ve done. Nor does John proclaim a form of substitutionary atonement, through which Jesus takes on the divine punishment that human beings deserve, in order to relieve us of our condemnation and guilt.

In John’s Gospel, as Campbell explains it, Jesus’ crucifixion judges “the world” and drives out the “ruler of the world.” That’s what Jesus’ death accomplishes. That’s the work that Jesus dreads, and knows he has to do, and finally completes just as he dies. “It is finished,” he proclaims from the cross. The “ruler of the world” has been driven out, and all people are free to come to God and to rest in God’s love.

To make sense of what is happening here, Campbell compares Jesus’ crucifixion to an exorcism. The fallen world that exists in estrangement from God is judged. And it is found to be driven, not by the will of God, but by a spirit or force (the ruler of the world) whose ways are domination, violence, and death. That evil force is identified, and grabbed hold of, and cast out – like a demon being cast out of a tormented individual.

Walter Wink identifies violence as an important aspect of the world that is judged by Jesus’ work on the cross. Wink talks about the “myth of redemptive violence” as a primary myth of the corrupted world that we live in. According this myth, the way to bring order out of chaos is through violently defeating “the other.” And the way to deal with threats from enemies is by violently eliminating them – as the world seeks to do with Jesus.

This myth plays itself out everywhere in our culture. We see it in the old, almost archetypal, Popeye cartoons in which Popeye restores order by eating his spinach and beating up Brutus. We see it in video games and movies that train our children in this myth from their earliest days. More seriously, we see it in the death penalty, in acts of terrorism, and in nations’ responses to terrorism. Many of us have trouble even imagining alternatives to this myth – a grim signal of our captivity to it.

Throughout his journey to the cross, Jesus enacts his freedom from this myth of redemptive violence. He does this by refusing to respond in the world’s violent terms. Indeed, in his trial before Pilate, Jesus suggests that violence, which he rejects, is central to the ways of the fallen world. In response to Pilate’s questioning, Jesus replies, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over… But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Jesus’ rejection of violence is precisely what distinguishes his way from the way of the world.

On the cross, Jesus publicly and dramatically judges the world by exposing it for what it is. And by exposing it, Jesus “casts out” its driving spirit. For once we have seen the fallen world for what it is, we begin to be set free from its captivating ways. We are set free to die to a life shaped by violence and domination, in order to live fully and freely in the way of Jesus.

Martin Luther King Jr.’s nonviolent campaigns illustrate Jesus’ work. When the white “powers-that-be” turned the hoses and dogs on the marchers – and the images were splashed across television – the reality of white racism was graphically and publicly exposed for all to see.

And King knew exactly what he was doing: “Let them get their dogs,” he shouted, “and let them get the hose, and we will leave them standing before their God and the world spattered with the blood and reeking with the stench of their Negro brothers.” It is necessary, he continued, “to bring these issues to the surface, to bring them out into the open where everybody can see them.” And King was to some degree successful. Once exposed, the spirit of racism began to lose some of its power over many people.

This is what happens on the cross. Jesus exposes the fallen world, and by exposing it he judges it and casts out its ruler. It’s not a pleasant story. It’s one that might well be upsetting to some children, and to some adults too when we pause to think about what happened to Jesus – about what he had to do in order to draw all people to God.

But as we continue this Lenten journey towards Good Friday and the cross, let us be mindful of those forces of domination, violence, and death that Jesus died to overcome. He died to overcome them, to unseat them from power, and we are no longer ruled by them. We are free to turn away from them and to turn towards his way. So with the help of God’s Spirit within us, let us follow the way of Jesus – his way of love, and forgiveness, and even sacrifice in the midst of a violent world. Amen.

Holy Week is a special time of worship, reflection, and celebration in the church. Mark your calendar today, and make time to worship together with your Presbyterian family this year.

• On Sunday, April 1^st Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday. We will gather at St. Andrew’s for worship at 11:00 am, remembering Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and joining with the crowds in singing “Hosanna” and hailing him as King.

It’s always interesting to hear your responses to my sermons. Whether you were inspired, confused, challenged, or blessed… whether you agreed wholeheartedly with what I said, or you want to tell me about an alternate perspective. It was a couple of months ago, I think, and I had preached a sermon that proclaimed the inherent goodness that God has planted within each human being.

I don’t think I was denying the reality that human beings are sinful creatures. It is true: Every single one of us falls short of the glory of God and needs the mercy and grace of the God who loves us despite our failings. But I also believe that we are made to be good. We are gifted with the ability to love and forgive, to be faithful and kind to one another. God made us in God’s very own image, and that image is good, and that’s what I was talking about in that particular sermon.

One of the things that I heard after church that Sunday was the gentlest of criticisms, or perhaps just a reminder about the other side of the coin. The comment was something like this: “Sometimes I think we need to preach about sin also.” Yes, I agreed. Sometimes we do need to preach about sin.

 “Don’t you worry” I could have responded, “Lent is coming, and I’ll be sure to preach plenty about sin during Lent!” And Lent has indeed arrived – we’re more than half way through it – and today’s readings made me think that today might be the day to preach about sin.

I remember someone else telling me that I should preach about sin. It was a fellow from the congregation where I grew up, the father of some of my friends from church school days. When I was getting ready to go back to school and study to be a preacher, he told me what he thought a preacher should be like. He should preach with authority and power. He shouldn’t be afraid to raise his voice or to bang on the pulpit a little bit. He should tell the people what’s what so that they will know right from wrong. And he should definitely preach about sin on a regular basis – convict the people and convince them to turn back to God.

It’s a good thing that wasn’t my only model for preaching back then, because I don’t think I would have even given preaching a try if it had been. That just isn’t my style.

But even if I’m not going to yell at you this morning, and rant about all the bad things that you continue to do, and the good things that you fail to accomplish, I still need to speak about sin and evil because these things are a very real part of our lives and the world that we live in. We cannot let our worship or our faith become a place where we only talk about the God who loves us completely and unconditionally. (Not that it isn’t true…) But we cannot allow our faith to ignore the painful realities of our lives and our world – to adopt a kind of “Barney the dinosaur” theology that only says “I love you. You love me. We’re a happy family.”

This morning’s text from the Hebrew Scriptures is strange, don’t you think? In the midst of their long journey through the wilderness towards the Promised Land, the Hebrew people sin. They become impatient, and they speak against God and against Moses: “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” That’s not the strange part. That sounds like a pretty reasonable complaint in a difficult situation. The strange part comes next.

Instead of reassuring the people, or feeding the people, or encouraging the people to hang on just a little bit longer, God sends poisonous serpents among them. Many people are bitten, and they die.

And suddenly their attitude changes – the ones who are still alive, anyway. They immediately repent, they admit their bad attitudes and their snarky comments, and they ask Moses to ask God to help them. Moses does, and they receive these very strange instructions: “Make a poisonous serpent out of bronze, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.”

Weird, huh? God doesn’t get rid of the poisonous serpents. And God doesn’t inoculate the people against the effects of the poison. And God doesn’t provide them with medicine to take when they get a snake bite. No, God tells them to make a bronze snake, and set it on a pole. And everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live. Just look at the snake.

The reality is that when we sin people get hurt. When we are unkind or unfaithful to our loved ones, the people we love are injured. When we perpetuate stereotypes or make racist comments, our neighbours are wounded.

When we fail to provide loving care for those who are sick or dying, or when we fail to provide for the poorest members of our society, or when we do not stand up for justice for all people throughout the world, people are hurt and damaged by our action or our inaction.

And God, no matter how much God loves us, does not wave a hand and wipe away the effects of our sin. No matter how much we may implore God to fix it, God does not snap his fingers and take away the hurt that we have caused by our sin. Just as God did not simply remove those poisonous serpents from the wilderness where the Hebrews were living.

Instead of taking away the snakes, God told the people to make a statue of one and put it on a pole. Don’t forget that there are poisonous snakes that may come out! This is what they look like! It was like a warning sign of sorts. When the people looked up at the snake on the pole, they remembered the effects of their sin. And maybe, when they looked at it, they changed their ways.

The text from John’s Gospel today makes reference to the first story. It begins, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

It’s only the fourth Sunday in Lent, but this reading is pointing us towards what we will pause to ponder on Good Friday. The author of John’s Gospel is talking about the crucifixion of Jesus. He’s telling us that the Son of Man – Jesus – had to be lifted up on a cross just like the bronze serpent was lifted up on a pole. And those who see him and believe, just like those who looked up at the snake, will live.

It’s the kind of statement that can sound pretty strange, especially to those who haven’t been hanging out in church circles for years and gotten used to the language and the ideas…. You just look up at a bronze serpent and you live? You just believe in Jesus and you are saved? You live forever just because of that? How odd, and how seemingly arbitrary!

But it’s not arbitrary. Really, it’s not. What is happening in the looking is that the people are being transformed.

Whether it’s the Hebrews looking at the devastating effect of their complaining and speaking against God, or any of us looking at the terrible, horrible impact of our human sin on the very Son of God, we come face to face with the results of our hatred, our neglect, our jealousy, our impatience, our selfishness, our laziness, our bitterness, and our pride.

Jesus on the cross is the ultimate example of the evil and injustice that is caused by our human sin, and he’s lifted up so that we can’t avoid looking at him, so that we can’t deny the things that we’ve done or failed to do. And eventually, if we are willing to look, so that we will be transformed.

When we were choosing the music for this morning’s service, we picked up the wonderful theme of “light” that is found in the Gospel text. Christ is the light that “has come into the world, and the people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.”

You see, it is Christ who shines light into darkness. Jesus’ life and ministry reveal the goodness of God, and his death on the cross reveals the sinfulness of human beings. In what Jesus does and in what is done to him, both good and evil are revealed and we cannot help but see them.

As some of you know, I’ve been attending quite a few meetings lately – representing the Presbyterian Church in Canada, along with the Rev. Sandy Scott from Prince Albert – as plans are made for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s national event here in Saskatoon at the end of June. And as I reflected on these scripture texts this week, I couldn’t help but think of the TRC hearing process taking place across the country.

The whole point of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is to make space for the truth about the Residential School system in Canada to be told and heard publicly. It’s not just about providing financial compensation for the students who attended the schools and were physically, sexually, or culturally abused. And it’s not just about government and churches making apologies to them either, although that is an important thing for us to do. But I think that more than anything, it’s about speaking the truth. It’s about survivors telling their stories and Canadians taking the time to listen and seek to understand.

Of course, looking at the effects of our sin is not easy. It’s not easy to look at the image of Christ bleeding and dying on a cross on Good Friday, and it’s not easy to sit and listen to the stories of those who were taken from their families as young children, made to live in the Residential Schools, and often physically and sexually abused.

If you go to one of the TRC hearings, you’ll notice little paper bags scattered throughout the room and marked with the word “tears.” There are many tears shed in those hearing rooms – by those who are telling their stories, by those who are sharing their pain, and by those who are coming face to face with their sin and the sin of the institutions to which we belong.

And when the people cry, they dry their eyes on tissues, and they put the tissues in those bags marked “tears.” When the national event happens in June, those tissues and the tears that they contain will go into the sacred fire and they will be burned. The tears of pain, and sharing pain, and telling the truth, and hearing the truth will be gathered together and burned.

And when the survivors, and their families, and others who will stand with them in solidarity stand around that sacred fire, I am sure that there will be healing taking place. It will be the kind of healing that cannot happen when our sins are hidden in dark places, when our failures are down-played, or ignored. It will be the kind of healing that only takes place when the lights are turned on, and the truth is spoken, and the sin is acknowledged.

The poisonous snake is lifted up on a pole. Our crucified Lord is lifted up on the cross. The truth about the Residential School system is told and heard and acknowledged.

But we must remember… as we journey towards Good Friday, as we prepare ourselves for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, as we open our eyes to see any sin within our own particular lives… We must remember that “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

We give thanks for God’s mercy. We give thanks for God’s grace. We give thanks for God’s power to raise the dead, to redeem the world, to transform our lives and our relationships, and to bring healing and peace. Amen.

Today’s Gospel story is usually referred to as “the cleansing of the temple.” It’s the dramatic story, repeated in all four of the Gospels, in which Jesus enters the great temple in Jerusalem and makes a scene. He finds people in the temple selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. He makes a whip of cords and drives all of them out. He pours out the coins and topples the tables. He yells, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”

You’ve probably heard the story before once or twice. Maybe you’ve thought about how strange it is to imagine Jesus getting angry, and been reminded perhaps that even God gets angry when bad things are happening.

Perhaps you’ve read a bit about what these practices were all about. You’ve noticed that the story takes place at Passover, one of the great pilgrimage festivals. Jewish people would have travelled from all over Judah and Israel and sometimes even further to worship at the temple and celebrate God’s great love and protection of God’s people at the Passover.

When the pilgrims arrived at the temple they would want to make sacrifices of thanksgiving to God. Since they were travelling from afar, they wouldn’t be able to bring animals along with them. They needed cattle, sheep, and doves for these offerings, so they would purchase them on their way in to the temple. And since they needed to make a financial offering too, the money changers provided a needed service. They took the pilgrims’ foreign currency and exchanged it for temple currency.

But Jesus gets quite obviously angry, and he drives them all out. He yells at them and tells them that their practices are turning God’s house into a marketplace. Some of the other versions of the story in the other Gospels suggest that the temple is being changed from a house of prayer to a den of thieves, suggesting that there might be some cheating going on at these booths as well.

But even without the suggestion of cheating, the holy place just isn’t being set aside for prayer and worship and devotion. It’s becoming like every other place, like the streets, like the market… filled with the hustle and bustle of people buying things and money changing hands.

Yesterday I heard someone suggest, in a reflection on this text, that Jesus was de-cluttering the temple. You can imagine him, can’t you?… lunging into the bustling crowd with his whip of cords… shouting out above the din of many voices in conversation… the crowd parting like Moses parting the red sea… and then everyone – people, animals, birds, tables – scattering and dispersing.

I wonder how long the quiet might have lasted. Long enough for Jesus to say something to the crowd and be heard? Perhaps. Long enough for anyone to have a quiet moment of prayer to God? Probably not. Long enough for a serious reconsideration of the temple practice at Passover? Very unlikely. But it was long enough for people to take notice of what Jesus had done, and to tell the story of it, and to pass it along to us for our reflection.

I would say that I am a fairly organized person. I keep a detailed schedule and can usually be counted on to follow it. I try stay on top of the various responsibilities that I have. And if someone needs a copy of the minutes from some committee, or if they’ve lost an email that they received, I can usually find it for them.

But one thing that I do have trouble with is clutter. My basement  is cluttered. My kitchen is cluttered. My office is cluttered. I keep accumulating more things (with a lot of it being paper) and I don’t often find the time to sort it, to dispense with what I don’t need, and to remove the clutter.

Some of you probably can’t relate to this problem. You live in neat, tidy homes. You have a great filing system in your office. And you make a point of spring cleaning every year to get rid of the things you no longer need. (Sometimes you even bring these things here to the church, thinking perhaps that they’ll be useful here. And sometimes they are. And sometimes they simply add to the clutter in my office!)

If you’ve been at St. Andrew’s for more than 6 years, you’ll remember the Rev. Annabelle Wallace. Annabelle was a superhero when it came to de-cluttering! Her filing system was amazing. She kept the church school supplies in perfectly colour-coded order. She ruthlessly made use of the garbage bin. And she liked to keep things clean as well.

A couple of years ago, Annabelle dropped by the church to see me when she was visiting Saskatoon. Unfortunately, I was out of town and I missed her visit. But Karen told me that she took a few minutes to look around the church and see how things had changed. The message she left for me was “I saw… but I didn’t conquer!” In other words, she resisted the temptation to clear out the clutter.

The thing is, I do know how to de-clutter my office. I do know how to sort out my files and clear off my desk. I do know how to go through my emails to archive the old ones, and to sort the current ones into presbytery, and committee work, and camp-related, and personal. And when I take the time to do it… even if it’s just one room, or one area of my life, there is an amazing feeling of accomplishment, of possibility, or renewed energy for work and ministry. Now that my desk is cleared off, I can get to work on this one exciting project! Now that the dishes are all washed and neatly put away, we have space to make a wonderful supper!

I don’t know if Jesus was thinking about de-cluttering when he sent the tables flying and coins rolling that day in the temple. But the hustle and bustle of the marketplace had found its way into the place of worship, and he was convinced that it was supposed to be a place for prayer. How could anyone concentrate to talk to God, let alone to actually hear God’s voice, with all of that marketing going on around them?

If Spring is a good time for de-cluttering our homes and our offices, then it seems to me that Lent should be a good time for de-cluttering our churches and our lives of faith. The word “Lent” just comes from the same root as the word “lengthen” for the lengthening days that we experience at this time of year. But as a season in the church year, it is a time of turning and returning to God. It’s a time of re-committing ourselves to God in prayer, and worship, and other spiritual practices. It’s a time of preparing ourselves for the great sorrow of Good Friday and the great joy of Easter.

I wonder how many of us are experiencing this season of Lent as a time of prayer, reflection, and drawing close to God. My guess is that it’s not many of us… because, for one thing, we’re all too busy! We’ve got work, and family responsibilities. We have committee work to do for the church, and volunteer stuff for the kids’ school, plus the community Board we sit on, not to mention the upcoming tasks of doing our taxes and starting on the spring cleaning. We are making it to church, at least some of the time… But sometimes church just feels like a whole bunch more words, another big list of things we should be doing… Sometimes the hustle and bustle of all the church activities doesn’t feel much different from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the week.

I believe very strongly that God wants us to be active in our faith. It’s not just a set of beliefs that we hold, but it’s a way of life that we embrace, a way that changes us, that directs us, and equips us and calls us to meaningful work and service in the church and in the community. But I don’t think God needs us to be “busy” all the time. In fact, if we are busy all the time, we might actually miss out on what God may be telling us, how God may be directing us.

In this season of Lent, of which there are another four weeks with each day getting longer and longer… I want to invite us to find ways to de-clutter our lives of faith so that we can have the time, the space, and the quiet to focus on what really matters.

Maybe it’s time for you to spend some time diving deep into God’s Word in the scriptures. Set aside some time each day (maybe in the morning or just before you go to bed) and read the Bible. There are many different tools for deciding what to read, devotional booklets, reading guides, or just open up your Bible to a book that you’ve never explored before.

And then just have some quiet time with God. Think about what you’ve read. How does it apply to your particular life? What might God be saying to you today, at this point in your life? Talk to God about what you’re thinking and feeling. And then stop talking so that you can listen as well.

There are a lot of quiet days here at the church… when there aren’t any groups meeting… when this room, in particular, is a place of quiet contemplation. So drop by if you want to… on your lunch hour or on your way to somewhere else. Come and sit and let God help you to de-clutter your mind, and your heart so that God can begin to use you once again to do God’s amazing work.

Let’s start right now by sharing some silence together, in the presence of our loving God.

This sermon was preached by the Rev. Amanda Currie as part of the St. Andrew’s Stewardship Committee’s program “Growing God’s Gifts.” It is based on a sermon by the Rev. Kenn Stright.

Jesus once told a story of a wealthy landowner who was preparing for a long journey. He called his three servants and divided his money between them, each according to his ability. To one servant he gave five talents, meaning a sum of money – almost unimaginable riches. To a second he gave two talents, and to a third he gave one talent. And even the third received an amount that we would find staggering. But there was a definite dividing according to ability… maybe a better manager, a shrewder investor, who knows what the ability was.

Why is life like that? I don’t know. We are all equal in the eyes of God. We are all guaranteed equal rights under the Constitution. In an election our votes are all equal, at least if we take the time to vote. But when it comes to our abilities, we are as different as different can be. God simply did not make us all the same.

There are some people here who can handle five talents; there are some who can handle only one. But we need the five talented and the one talented alike! There are some people who have great intellectual capabilities, and some who do not. There are some who have the ability to project and articulate their thoughts, and there are some who cannot. There are some who have physical prowess and attractive looks, and there are some who do not.

The important thing to remember is that each servant was given something. No one was left idle. You may not be a five-talent person, but you have some talent. We all do. And you know something? I think that there are a whole lot more one and two talent people in this world than there are five talent people. Oh, there are some people who seem to have it all! I won’t deny that. But most of us are just one or two talent servants.

The landowner now went on his journey. When he returned he called together his three servants and asked them to give an account. It seems that the five talent man had invested his talent and was able to return an additional five talents, a 100% return. So too, the two talent man doubles his money. Well done, good and faithful servant!

But what about the one talent man? He steps forward and says: “Sir, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow.” And he returns the one talent that had been given to him. The landowner, incensed, uses words such as “slothful” and “wicked.” Angrily, he takes the talent back and gives it to the servant who now has ten.

It’s interesting to note that in the 25^th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel there are three parables told in a row: The Parable of the Bridesmaids, the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, and the Parable of the Talents. Essentially the same phrase is used in each: after a long time. The bridegroom comes “after a long time.” The landowner returns “after a long time.” The judgment comes “after a long time.”

Perhaps this is Matthew’s way of saying to us: Our master may be delayed in his return, but in the meantime, what are you doing with the talent that has been entrusted to you?

Let us be clear on one issue. God expects a return. We had better not simply bury that which has been given to us and return it when he comes. A Danish proverb states: “What you are is God’s gift to you; what you do with yourself is your gift to God.”

Jesus reminds us in this parable that God has blessed us with many talents – gifts and abilities, time and energy, financial resources and material goods, and most of all the good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ. God directs us to put our talents to good use and multiply them. If we do not, then we will lose them.

Well, it’s obvious that the star, or we might say the villain, of the story is the one talent man. The salient question is: Why did he choose to do nothing with the one talent that had been given to him? Why do I? Why do you? We are not really given the answer. We are left to speculate. And that is precisely what I would like to do this morning – speculate about his inaction.

Perhaps he did nothing with his one talent because he feared failure. How did he word it? “I was afraid” and I hid my talent. Fearful of doing the wrong thing, he chose to do nothing at all. This was perhaps a man who did well under supervision, but now he is left on his own and he is terrified. We tend to view him with contempt because he hid his talent in the ground. But our contempt is misguided. This was considered the traditional way of saving money in that day and time. He was being a good conservative businessman. He was not going to risk someone else’s money by buying into some speculative venture.

The tendency is to want to play it safe and not go out on a limb. He wanted to play it safe, and what is wrong with that? Simply this, you cannot love if you are not willing to risk. What is the risk of love? That it will not be reciprocated. That people will not return our love. But as the people of God, we are called upon to be people of daring. Friends, if Jesus had played it safe, we would not be sitting here this morning.

I want to be faithful to this text. So I would say to you: Go, and take risks. Take risks and don’t fear failure, especially with your God-given gifts and the opportunity presented to you through your commitment to this church.

Perhaps a second reason why this one talent man did nothing with his talent is that he played the game “if only.” If only I had been given the talent of those other two men, then I could have accomplished something.

We like to play that game too. I would love to teach a Church School class, if only I had her ability. If only I had his voice I would sing in the choir. I would support the church if only I had a little more money. It is a dangerous game because it too easily gets us off the hook.

I love the story of the 38 year old scrubwoman who would go to the movies and sigh, “If only I had her looks.” She would listen to a singer and moan, “If only I had her voice.” Then one day someone gave her a copy of an inspirational book. She stopped comparing herself with actresses and singers. She stopped crying about what she didn’t have and started concentrating on what she did have. She took inventory of herself and remembered that in high school she had a reputation for being the funniest girl around. She began to turn her liabilities into assets. When she was at the top of her career Phyllis Diller made over $1 million a year. In the 1960’s that was a great deal of money. She wasn’t good-looking and she had a scratchy voice, but she could make people laugh.

Today we are invited to use the gifts that God has given to us. We may have to stop crying about what we don’t have and start concentrating on what we do have. And the Stewardship Committee wants to help us to do this by participating in the “Growing God’s Gifts” program starting next week.

No, we’re not going to be talking about money, and we’re not going to be asking you to make financial commitments to the church. We are going to be talking about spiritual gifts – about the talents and abilities that God has blessed us with. We’ll have an opportunity to do a “spiritual gifts inventory” to help us identify our gifts, and we’ll have the chance to think about how we can use our gifts, develop our gifts, and grow our gifts for God’s glory and for the building up of the church and our ministry here.

I think there’s one more possibility for why the one talent man did nothing with his gift. I wonder if he thought to himself, “Well, my one little talent won’t make any difference anyway.” There are a lot of people who feel that way today. I dare say, if you took a poll on why people don’t vote, that would be the answer given most often. Well, my one little vote won’t make any difference. And so voter turnout is at a record low at every level of government.

Sir Michael Costa, the celebrated conductor of the 19^th century, was holding a rehearsal. As the mighty chorus rang out, accompanied by scores of instruments, the piccolo player – a little pint-sized flute – thinking perhaps that his contribution would not be missed amid so much music, stopped playing. Suddenly, the great leader stopped and cried out, “Where is the piccolo?”

The sound of that one small instrument was necessary to the harmony, and the Master Conductor missed it when it dropped out. The point? To the conductor there are no insignificant instruments in an orchestra. Sometimes the smallest and seemingly least important one can make the greatest contribution. And even if it doesn’t seem to make that big a difference to the audience at large, THE CONDUCTOR KNOWS IT right away!

In the church, the players and the instruments are diverse – different sizes, different shapes, different notes, different roles to play. But like the piccolo player in Sir Michael’s orchestra, we often decide that our contribution is not significant. Our contribution couldn’t possibly make a difference. And so we quit playing. We stop doing that which we’ve been given to do. We drop out. But the Conductor immediately notices. From our perspective, our contribution may be small, but from His, it is crucial.

I just have to believe I’m talking to some piccolo players this morning, who have dropped out of the orchestra, for whatever reasons: pain, exhaustion, insecurity, criticism, laziness, or whatever… convinced that your contribution doesn’t mean a hill of beans in the bigger scheme of things. We have buried our talent in the ground. For all piccolos who won’t play, or at least aren’t playing, Jesus has something to say: Use the gifts that God has given you.

I don’t know when I spend hours on a sermon every week that it is going to make any difference at all in the life of anybody. But I do know that it is better to try than not to try. I don’t know that if a teacher makes an effort to reach out to a troubled student that it is going to make any difference in the long run, but I do know that it is better to try than not to try. When a person teaches a church school class or goes to the trouble of singing in the choir and having to show up for rehearsals, they have no guarantee whatsoever that their efforts will help make God more real to an individual. But I do know that it is better to try than not to try.

We are so used to looking at gigantic issues, such as racism and poverty and world hunger. We are stupefied by the enormity of such issues and say, “What’s the use? Anything that I could do would be so little that it would have the effect of an eyedropper compared to the ocean. Therefore, since I cannot resolve the whole issue, I will do nothing at all.”

May I remind you that when the Good Samaritan stopped to help a beaten victim on the Jericho Road that day, he did not resolve all of the social, political, and economic ills of first century Israel. But he did what he could. And that is the issue for us. Are we doing what we can, where we are, with what we have?

Let us take the time this month to consider our God-given gifts, to use them and to grow them for God’s glory. Amen.

During The Season Of Lent each year, the people of St. Andrew’s are encouraged to collect coins to support the work of Presbyterian World Service and Development. Our gifts to PWS&D are one way that we care for people around the world and for God’s creation. The Stewardship Committee has provided coin-collecting jars for us.  You can pick one up in the entranceway, and remember to bring it back on Easter Sunday. There are also some PWS&D envelopes in the entranceway if you would prefer to write a cheque.

During this year’s Lenten appeal, the Stewardship Committee has decided to highlight small business development in Guatemala.

• $80 provides women with literacy and vocational training for one month.
• $215 enables 40 people to participate in a business training program
• $500 helps a women’s group start a small business fund

All Are Welcome To Take Part In A Session of prayerful and gentle exercise while sitting in a chair on Wednesday, March 7^th from 6:30-7:30 pm in St. Andrew’s lower hall. Diane Waldbillig, a certified Holy Yoga trainer will be leading us through this new experience during the Lenten season. Let’s get healthy while we pray and reflect on scripture. Call Laura at 229-7846 to RSVP.

Discover Your God-Given Gifts! The Stewardship Committee invites everyone to participate in two small group sessions designed to help us discover and develop our spiritual gifts. Sessions will take place on Sundays, March 11^th & 18^th (2:30-4:30) and on Saturdays, March 17^th & 24^th (2:30-4:30) at the church. Please let us know whether you plan to attend the Sunday sessions or the Saturday sessions so that we can plan accordingly. You can phone the church (242-0525) email Rev. Amanda (email hidden; JavaScript is required) or put your name on the sign up sheets in the entranceway. We will conclude the program with a “gathering of God’s gifts” and a potluck lunch following worship on Sunday, March 25^th.

The ancient story of the great flood that we find in the Book of Genesis is not unique to the Judeo-Christian Tradition. Many cultures and religious traditions have similar stories about a time long, long ago, when God decided to flood the earth and begin again. We tell the same story (with some variation in the details) because, as humans, we share the same experience. We witness great floods and terrible disasters, and we want to make sense of them. We witness human sin, and failure, and disobedience to God, and we want to make sense of these things too.

These stories make sense to us when we think about the world that we live in today. We have no trouble imagining a world that has spun so far out of control that God might want to wipe it out and begin again. We read about that world in the newspaper each day, and we see it before our eyes on the nightly news. At least, it can seem that way some days, because the Noahs of this world rarely make the headlines.

But the story of Noah and the Ark and the Great Flood does not serve only as a warning. On this first Sunday in the Season of Lent, we might be tempted to read it that way. We might be inclined to warn each other back into obedience to God: Turn back before it’s too late! Pay attention to God before God decides to write you off! Return to God’s ways before God changes his mind and takes back the invitation!

Yes, the first part of the story may serve as a warning, or as a call to return to the Lord during this season of prayer and repentance. But the final part of the story is not so much a warning as it is a promise. When the flood subsided, and Noah and his family came out of the ark with all the animals, the first thing that Noah did was to build a place of worship. He made an offering to God, and when the Lord smelled the pleasing odour, the Lord said in his heart, “I will never again curse the ground because of humankind, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living creature as I have done.”

It’s like God suddenly realized that human beings are never going to get it all together. It’s like God figured out that people are people, that we’re not God, and that we’re never going to be as loving and faithful and good as God is all of those things. And God decided that he would accept us as we are.

The best comparison that I can think of is the “honeymoon period” in a relationship. The honeymoon period refers to the early part of a relationship when you walk around in a haze of lovey dovey feelings, believing that your partner is the best thing since sliced bread, that he or she can do no wrong, and that life together is going to be just glorious because you’re just perfect for each other!

You might experience a honeymoon period in a marriage or in a friendship, in a new job or in any kind of new and exciting situation in life. Church folk often talk about a honeymoon period when a new minister comes to a congregation. It’s that first year or so before the congregation discovers the minister’s foibles and failings, and before the minister uncovers the unique quirks and challenges that exist in any Christian community. (Of course, you and I are long past that stage!)

When I’m doing marriage preparation with couples who have decided to get married, we do a lot more than plan the wedding service. And one of the things that I’m listening for when we meet together is whether they are still in the honeymoon period of their relationship. You see, it’s one thing to make a lifelong commitment to a person who is smart, strong, beautiful, loving, reliable, thoughtful, and perfect in every way. And it’s quite another to make a lifelong commitment to a person who is human, who makes mistakes and who does wrong things. What we most want to avoid is getting married during that honeymoon period, and then waking up some months later to discover the person that we’re really married to, and to be tempted to give up and walk away.

When couples get married in the church, we use the word “covenant” to describe the promises that they are making to each other. It’s the very same word that is used in the Bible to describe God’s promises to us as God’s people. And just as the rainbow becomes the sign of the covenant – the reminder of God’s promise to us never to give up on us again – many couples exchange rings to serve as a reminder of the covenant that they have made, a sign of the love and faithfulness that they have promised to each other.

It’s not just that the covenant is unconditional, though it is certainly that. God promises to remain faithful to us, to stay in relationship to us, EVEN IF we forget about God, and disobey God, and do wrong things. But the covenant is made with the knowledge that we WILL do wrong things, that we WILL be unfaithful, that we WILL forget about God. God makes the covenant even THOUGH God knows us well enough to know that we will mess up. God makes the covenant even THOUGH God knows that there will be times when God will want to wipe us all out with a giant flood and start again. And God promises NOT to do that!

Sometimes the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament that we meet in Jesus the Christ are seen as quite different from each other – the contrast between a harsh and judging God who required God’s people to live according to a set of rules and laws, versus the loving, forgiving, reconciling God that we experience in Jesus. But I’m not so sure that God has changed all that much.

Once upon a time, God made a promise to humanity. God knew that we would forget him, and turn away, and do wrong things. But God made a covenant to be our God and not to destroy us again. More than two thousand years ago, God made a new covenant with us in Jesus Christ. God made that promise to us right in the middle of a pretty good demonstration of our human failure and sinfulness. Even as Jesus spoke the words of promise to his disciples at supper, some of them were doubting, and some of them were planning betrayals, and all of them were soon to run away when he needed them most. But he took a loaf of bread in his hands, broke it, and gave to them. He said, “This is my body that is for you.” He took a cup of wine, passing it between them and telling them, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.”

Today I invite you to hear these words again. They are words that have been spoken so many times in this place, as we have gathered at the Table of the Lord to remember him and celebrate the feast. I invite you to hear the words again, and to consider them as Jesus’ wedding vow – Jesus’ promise – to you and to us as a People. Don’t worry. He knows what he’s getting into. He’s making the covenant with his eyes wide open to the people that we are with all our imperfections, and with the full knowledge that we’re going to mess up again because we are human.

But he loves us, and he’s committing to keep on loving us. He’s giving himself fully and completely to being in relationship with us, knowing that his self-giving will inevitably lead to pain and hurt and even death itself. His body will be broken. His blood will be poured out. And he will keep on loving us, and forgiving us, and drawing us back into relationship with him, into relationship with God.

As bread and wine are shared this day, we are invited to do two things. We are invited to hear and receive the promise of God in Jesus Christ, to hear God’s promise once again and to rest in God’s amazing love. And we are invited to respond to that love, to renew our own promises to God, to make our own vows once again, that we might give ourselves fully to God and God’s will for our lives.

May God bless the giving and receiving of our promises today, and may God give us the strength to live by them more and more each day. Amen.

Bill Thibodeau and Giselle Doell of Egadz Youth Centre will speak at the Thursday Group meeting on Thursday, February 16th. Everyone is welcome to join this group at 1:30 p.m. in the lower hall of the church.

Farewell to Jen! St. Andrew’s will be hosting a farewell gathering for Jennifer Bell, our Regional Staff Person for Saskatchewan. Jen has accepted a position as Program Assistant for Canadian Ministries at the National Office of the Presbyterian Church in Canada. We will gather for worship at 4 p.m. followed by a potluck supper on Sunday, February 19th to say good-bye to Jen and send her on her way with our love and blessings for her continued ministry within the Presbyterian Church.

Church Family Day! On Monday, February 20th many people in Saskatchewan will have the day off work/school for Family Day. You are invited to join your church family at St. Andrew’s that day for a time of worship, learning, and activity. Families, singles, and couples of all ages are encouraged to come for a fun time with your church family. The program will begin at 11 a.m. and wind up by 2 p.m., followed by optional activities of board games, a family movie, or skating at the Bess. Lunch will be included. Please RSVP to Matt or Rev. Amanda by Sunday morning, February 19th so that we can prepare enough food for lunch.

Ash Wednesday Worship: We will begin the Season of Lent with an Ash Wednesday Worship Service on February 22nd at 7 p.m. The service will include the imposition of ashes on the forehead as a sign of humility and repentance. We will also celebrate Holy Communion together.

Sunday, February 26th will be the First Sunday in the Season of Lent.  We will begin the Lenten journey with the Sacrament of Holy Communion as part of our Sunday morning worship at 11 a.m.

As we just heard in today’s Gospel story, Jesus became very well known for his ability to heal. Whether it was a person afflicted with a terrible skin disease like leprosy, a man who could not walk, a woman who couldn’t stop bleeding, or a child seemingly possessed by an evil spirit, Jesus spoke, he touched, or power simply came out of him bringing healing and wholeness and peace. He never used more than a bit of mud in his healing practice, and usually he just did it with a word or a touch that effected rapid healing in the person’s life.

Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.

This kind of story is strange and far from most of our experience. It’s the kind of story that we share carefully with our children, recognizing that it may raise questions for them, as it does for us. If Jesus could heal the leper, and the lame man, and the demoniac, and the sick child, then why couldn’t God heal my grandmother, or my best friend? Why doesn’t God heal me when I am suffering?

The question about healing brings to mind a memory I have from when I was a teenager. I don’t remember the details of what I was doing in Montreal, whether I was there with my family or with a school trip, perhaps. But we went to visit one of the Catholic Churches there, St. Joseph’s Oratory. And I’ll always remember the image of the hundreds and hundreds of crutches, and canes, and walkers, and wheel chairs. They weren’t just sitting around, but they were hanging up on the walls everywhere we looked. These were the reminders of the people who had been healed in the church. Like the lame man that Jesus healed, they had “taken up their mats, and walked” away, leaving behind the crutches and chairs that they no longer needed.

I admit that I was sceptical when I saw all those things hanging on the walls of the church, and I’m still pretty sceptical about that kind of healing. Of course, if I saw someone healed miraculously like that I would certainly celebrate with them and give thanks to God for the gift. But I have my doubts about whether God would work that way, or why, if God did, that it wouldn’t always work that way.

Today’s healing story is very brief. A leper comes to Jesus, begging him for help, and reminding him that he really could help if he chose to do so. And Jesus is moved with pity. He agrees to do the healing, and a moment later it is done. But what happens next is a bit strange.

Jesus sternly warns the man before sending him away. He says, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.”

The instruction to “show yourself to the priest” makes sense. If a person with leprosy actually got better, the first thing he would do would be to go to the priest. The priest would check him over, and confirm that indeed, he was well. The key point was that he was no longer contagious. The priest would declare him clean, invite him to make an offering of thanks to God, and then the former leper would be free to continue with life – no longer quarantined to protect everyone else from his illness.

Jesus says, “It’s okay to tell the priest, but please don’t tell anyone else about this.” And we have to wonder why. Maybe it was because if he went out and told everyone about the miracle, Jesus would get swamped with people looking for similar miracles.

The fact was that Jesus was moved with pity and he helped the leper, but maybe he’s not really too excited about healing every single person who might come looking for help. Maybe it would be too much. Maybe if performing healing miracles became Jesus’ full-time job, he wouldn’t have any time left to fulfil his calling, which was about much more than healing miracles.

I can’t claim to have Jesus’ power to heal diseases, but as part of my role here at St. Andrew’s, I have the discretion to make use of the Session Benevolence Fund when I become aware of church members or others who are in serious need. In recent months, I’ve started to pick up some grocery gift cards that can be given to folks who are out of food and out of other options.

I can imagine how Jesus might have felt with that leprous man kneeling at his feet and begging him for help. I’ve felt that ache of pity when there’s been a young single mom crying on the phone for my help – for the church’s help.

And a couple of times, I’ve said something like what Jesus said. “See that you say nothing to anyone. Don’t tell all your friends that I gave you a gift card. It’s not that I don’t want to help them. It’s just that the resources are limited. We just don’t have enough to take on feeding all the hungry people of Saskatoon.”

Jesus was moved with pity. He had compassion on the man with leprosy and healed him. He hoped, I suppose, that the man wouldn’t tell everyone about it. He hoped that everyone wouldn’t expect such a miracle because even if Jesus spent all day every day healing one person after another, there would never be enough time to heal them all, at least not in the way that they were hoping to be healed.

When we talk about healing in the church, the question arises as to what we are praying for when we ask God to heal someone. Some may literally be expecting a miracle… for someone’s cancer to disappear, for someone’s legs to start working again, for someone’s blood pressure to suddenly return to normal… The minister, or someone, waves their hand over the spot, or says the right words, or asks God with the right attitude, and the person will be healed.

That’s the kind of healing that Naaman, the army commander with leprosy, was looking for in today’s story from 2 Kings. Naaman was a great warrior who suffered from a terrible skin disease. It was a young Israelite girl who was serving Naaman’s wife who suggested a solution: Naaman should go to Israel. There’s a prophet there with great healing powers.

So Naaman’s king, the King of Aram, sends Naaman to Israel and sends along a letter to the King of Israel asking him to arrange for a healing. In addition to the letter, Naaman brings along a lot of wealth – silver, gold, and many garments. Payment for the healing? A bribe? Certainly, this great man is willing to buy the help he needs. He’s not looking for a hand-out.

But the King of Israel is confused and upset by the letter. He obviously doesn’t know that such healing is possible. Or if he does, he doesn’t know how to provide it for Commander Naaman. He’s worried that the King of Aram is trying to pick a fight. He’s afraid that there’s going to be another war if he can’t provide what Naaman needs.

Along comes the prophet Elisha to the rescue. “Send him to me,” Elisha tells the king, “I can take care of him.”

But when Naaman arrives at Elisha’s house, ready and waiting for his miraculous healing, Elisha neither lets him in, nor comes out to meet him. He sends a message instead: “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.”

As you know, Naaman got angry and upset when he heard this. He was an important man, and he was expecting something more spectacular: “I thought that for me he would surely come out,” Naaman complained. “[I thought that he would] stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy!” Instead, he’s just telling me to have a bath. Well, to have seven baths, and to have them in a muddy river!

If it wasn’t for the encouragement of some of his servants, Naaman probably wouldn’t have even followed the prophet’s advice. He would have missed the miracle because it wasn’t flashy enough, because it wasn’t quick enough, because it didn’t look like a fancy healing miracle.

Naaman’s healing wasn’t instantaneous. There was no magical cure. But healing did take place. Healing took place through the willingness of Naaman to participate in the healing process, through the determination to go down to the river and wash, and to go again, and to go again. Elisha told him to do it seven times – a symbolic number, representing fullness and completeness. And when he actually did it, he was healed.

Earlier this week, someone told me about an amazing story of healing. It was the terrible story of a girl that was shared on the Dr. Phil show on TV. I don’t know all the details because I didn’t watch it myself, but as I understand it, they had an eighteen year old woman on the show who had survived an absolutely horrific childhood.

From the ages of 2 to 6, this poor girl had been locked in a closet by her parents. She lived there all the time, naked and alone, eating only scraps of food, and not even allowed out to use the bathroom. When the adults did pull her out of the closet, they would wash her off, have sex with her, and then throw her back into the closet.

Without going into any more detail than that, it is clear that this girl was subjected to pure evil, deprived of all the things that children need to grow healthy and strong – food, shelter, conversation, care, and unconditional love.

What amazed me when I heard this story was that she survived at all. And what amazed me even more was that through the dedication, and care, and love of a new mother and a new family, this girl was actually healing. It had been a long and difficult journey, and there was obviously still a long way to go. But she talked about her faith in God, and her belief that if she had survived what happened to her, God must have a purpose for her life. She must have some good to share in the world.

There was no quick fix for the terrible things that had been done to this girl’s body, mind, and spirit. But as Naaman was healed through the slow, repetitive work of going down and washing in the river, and going down and washing in the river, and going down and washing in the river, this girl was healing also… slowly, haltingly, and often painfully healing… but there’s no doubt that her healing is a miracle.

I heard another story of healing recently. It was the story of a man in his 70’s who had, in his childhood, attended one of the residential schools that was operated by the Presbyterian Church in Canada. This man, along with many others, took the opportunity provided by Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, to tell his story at one of the hearings that took place in Prince Albert a couple of weeks ago.

We listened as he spoke for over an hour about what happened to him when he was only 5 years old. He was taken away from his home and his family to live hundreds of kilometres away at a residential school where he stayed for a full five years without an opportunity to visit home. His sister was there too, but since she was a girl, he didn’t get to see her. His hair was cut short, his language was disallowed, and he experienced severe physical and sexual abuse in that place.

He shared about the many challenges that followed throughout his adult life. He was in and out of jail, he became addicted to alcohol, and he had trouble maintaining relationships. He spoke of many regrets about his inability to be a good father to his children. He did a lot of harm, and he carried a lot of guilt feelings for the mistakes that he made.

But he gave credit to a couple of good friends who sat beside him in support as he shared his story. These were the people who helped him to turn his life around, to get off the streets where he had been living, and to begin the healing journey.

I got the impression, as I listened to this man speaking, that this wasn’t the first time he had shared his story. This time was for the record, but I imagine he had already told it over and over to friends, to elders, and to those who sat with him in healing circles.

He had been hurt. It was terrible. And it had led to a great deal of suffering for this man and for many others who encountered such a broken and hurting person. But by facing his pain, by telling his story, by working through what had happened to him, he had begun to heal.

He talked about the spiritual practices that helped him – going out into the woods and talking to God in prayer. And when I introduced myself to him at lunch time, he told me that he had learned how to forgive. He said he didn’t blame the church anymore. And he didn’t blame God either.

There are some things in all our lives that need healing. Yes, there are illnesses and ailments that we need to address, things from which we cannot heal unless we go to the doctor, and follow the instructions, and take the medications, and adjust our diets, and do the exercises, and care for the bodies that God has given to us.

And there are some other things that need healing… broken hearts and broken dreams, broken relationships and broken expectations. Our minds and our spirits also need healing, and that healing doesn’t happen with the wave of a hand or a few special words from a minister.

That healing takes time, and work, and patience, and determination to listen for God’s message of grace and love, to watch for Christ’s presence in our midst, and to walk in the ways of Christ each day, with the presence and help of the Holy Spirit.

It requires us to work on ourselves and our relationships both with God and our neighbours, to worship, to read the scriptures, and to respond to God’s Word with our lives and our gifts. It means taking care of the spirits that God has given to us.

So let us go down to the river and immerse ourselves in the healing waters. And let us do it again, and again, and again. And may God grant us healing and peace. Amen.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? It is God who sits above the circle of the earth… who stretches out the heavens like a curtain… who makes the rulers of the earth as nothing… Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.

The prophet Isaiah addresses these questions to the People of Israel in exile in Babylon. The people are complaining, you see, that God has disregarded them, that God has forgotten them. I can understand their complaint. Really, I can. They’re tired. They’re exhausted, actually. And after all the challenges and trials they have endured, after waiting so long for some kind of help,  who can blame them for getting a little bit frustrated with God?

Why are we still living in this God-forsaken place? Why are our enemies still triumphing over us again and again? We thought we were supposed to be your chosen people! Why is this misery just going on and on with no relief in sight?

Those are questions that many of us have asked ourselves, or asked of God over the years. In the midst of unrelenting physical pain, from the depths of a deep depression, or out of the exhaustion of constant care-giving, we’ve wondered where God is to be found, or why God doesn’t seem to be helping us out of our struggles.

Even our churches may find ourselves asking these questions. We’re tired too. We’ve been working so hard to maintain a ministry. We’ve been spending so much time, and giving so many resources to build a mission. And yet we may not see the results. We notice our congregations dwindling, and many of them closing. We worry about our children and whether they will hear the good news and respond to it in faith. We’ve been trying so hard for so many years, and we’re really starting to wonder if God has disregarded us, if God has forgotten us.

When the prophet asks, “Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning?” he knows the answer to the question. Of course they know that God is the creator of all that is. Of course they know that God is more powerful that the rulers of the world. Of course they know that God has numbered all the stars and calls them each by name. They know that God does not faint or grow weary.

Those being addressed by the prophet’s speech are not being shown something new, or something on the far horizon of what they might have thought about God. The speech intends to drive home matters about God that Israel already knows, but has forgotten.

In his reflection on this text, William J. Carl III suggests that both the Israelites and we are theological amnesiacs. Theological amnesia is the kind of problem that causes us to fall apart every time crisis comes. Like the exiles in Babylon, we wonder if God has gone off and left us altogether. We forget who we are as Christians. We forget what we believe and why we believe it. We feel lost and alone.

Of course, theological amnesia doesn’t only strike when we are in crisis. In fact, it is especially troubling when life is going well. How easily we forget God when everything is on track in our lives! We forget that God loves us and wants the best for us. We forget to praise and thank God for the blessings we receive every day.

And what happens when we forget the God who is Creator, Sustainer, Redeemer, and Friend?  The moment we confront trouble, we collapse with anxiety and stress. We think that we have to handle the crisis all on our own. We forget that God is with us and that God loves us.

William Carl suggests that Isaiah is trying to cure the world’s amnesia. His appeal is not to something unknown or insufficiently grasped, but precisely to something Israel has known and heard and been shown from eternity, from the very foundation of the heavens and the earth.

Sometimes when I’m working on a sermon I start to feel like I never have anything new to say. “I’ve preached this before! I feel like I’m always preaching the same message over and over again. They’ve got to be getting tired of all this repetition!” Even if it’s a new text, a biblical text that I’ve never preached on before, I realize that the message, at its core, is the same thing over and over.

But maybe that’s the point. I’m not preaching something new that you’ve never heard before. After all, many of you have so many more years of faith and discipleship, bible study and reflection than I do. How can I possibly come up with something that is new for you?

Rather, like Isaiah, my task is simply to remind you of something that you may have forgotten, to remind you of something that you already know, of something that you have heard before, of something that has been told to you from the beginning of your life of faith.

It goes something like this: There is a God, and God is the Maker of all that is. God made the world and everything in it, and God made it all good. God made you as well, and you were especially made in God’s image, to share the goodness and the love and potential for loving relationship that is God’s very nature.

At times, God’s people have turned away from God, refusing to trust and obey. At times, we continue to turn away and we rebel against the way of life that God has called us to live. In years past, God sent prophets like Isaiah to call us back to God’s way. And then, in the fullness of time, out of God’s great love for the world, God sent God’s only Son to be one of us, to redeem us and heal our brokenness.

In Jesus, born of Mary, God’s Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth. He lived as one of us, knowing joy and sorrow. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, opened blind eyes, broke bread with outcasts and sinners, and proclaimed the good news of God’s kingdom to the poor and needy. Dying on the cross, he gave himself for the life of the world. Rising from the grave, he won for us victory over death. Seated at the right hand of God, he leads us to eternal life.

I know… this is nothing new. You’ve heard this all before. But there are times when we forget, aren’t there? Sometimes when everything is going so well, and we’re starting to think that we can do almost anything on our own. Sometimes when everything is falling apart, and it seems like nothing can help with our desperate situation.

Let’s not give each other a hard time for forgetting God. Instead, let’s take every opportunity we have to remind each other. Worship is a good way to be reminded. So is caring for one another, serving, and helping one another in the name of Christ, doing the things that Jesus did. And if we can be brave enough to share our faith with the people around us, we’ll not only remind them that God is present and active, but we’ll also remind ourselves as well.

The prophet Isaiah reminded God’s people Israel of what they already knew. And what they knew was a specific account of how the world was made, how God chose a people, and how God was and is God. One commentator points out that the possession and good stewardship of this knowledge is what it means for Israel to be God’s elect people in the first place.

The fact that we have known, and heard, and been told the good news of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ is an amazing gift. And it’s a gift that we can’t lose by giving it away.

We can follow the example of the Apostle Paul who heard the gospel and felt an obligation to spend his life proclaiming it to others, whoever those others might be, and whatever it might cost him to do so.

We can follow the example of Simon’s mother-in-law, who was healed by Jesus, and responded by getting up and serving the people around her.

We can follow the example of Jesus, who though he had worked so hard already, and though he was feeling so tired, went to God for help and strength, and then continued the ministry that he was called to do, proclaiming the message in word and deed.

May God give us power when we are faint, and strength when we are powerless, so that no matter what challenges we may face, we will never forget God’s presence or God’s love for us.

“Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Amen.

An ecumenical Lenten series exploring the doctrinal consensus and convergence on key issues of church life and practice. Join Nick Jesson and Rev. Amanda Currie as we harvest the significant agreement reached between the churches in the past half century and look to the future. Together with an ecumenical panel, we will discover the faith that we share and the practices and beliefs that we hold in common, as well as seek to understand the differences that make each of our church Traditions unique.

You are invited to a 5-week Lenten series for all Christians who are praying and working for the unity of the church. On Mondays from Feb. 27 to Mar. 26 from 7-9 pm at Mayfair United Church (902 – 33rd Street West).

2012 is the 30th anniversary of the World Council of Churches’ statement on Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry (BEM). Thirty years after BEM have our Churches truly embraced the ecumenical agreement that is expressed in the document? And are we still engaging in the dialogue necessary to move towards even greater agreement, co-operation, and Christian unity? If you would like to read BEM in advance of the series, you can find it online at http://oikoumene.org/?id=2638.

Registration on the first evening will begin at 6:30 p.m. There is no fee for this series, but you are welcome to make a donation to support the ministry of the Prairie Centre for Ecumenism. For more information, contact Rev. Amanda Currie at 306-242-0525 or email hidden; JavaScript is required.

A sermon preached by the Rev. Amanda Currie and Nicholas Jesson at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Saskatoon and St. Andrew’s Anglican Church, Humboldt on January 29, 2012.

In the introduction to the ecumenical service for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity this year, the Polish authors of the material emphasize the theme of transformation. Using the main biblical text from 1 Corinthians 15, they speak boldly and hopefully about the transformation that awaits us when our lives in this world come to an end.

With the foundational conviction that Christ was raised from death to life forevermore with God, the Apostle Paul proclaims the good news that precisely because Christ is raised, those who love him and follow him will also be raised. We too will be transformed from death to life, not because of our own goodness or power, but because of the victory of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Listen, I will tell you a mystery!” Paul explains it, “We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’”

When we profess our faith together in the words of an ecumenical creed (such as the Apostles’ Creed that we will share today) we are reminded of how much we hold in common as Churches and Christians. We may sing some different songs, wear some different outfits for worship, and emphasize different aspects of our faith, but there are some very foundational beliefs that we share.

Even if we can’t quite get together on the particular translations of the creeds to use, still, we can stand together with our sisters and brothers in Christ today and profess that we believe (among others things) in “the resurrection of the dead, and the life everlasting.”

When I first looked at the scripture theme for this year’s Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, I must admit that I was confused. I was expecting a text about Christian unity.

There are some wonderful texts about Christian unity, for example first Corinthians 1: “Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.”

Or first Corinthians 12: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.”

One of my favourite ones is Ephesians 2: “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.”

Another one from Ephesians is in chapter four: “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all…”

And we can’t forget John 17: Jesus prays that we may all be one:  “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

Even the psalmists had something to say about unity. Psalm 133 says: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!”

But the theme text that was chosen for this year is about resurrection. It’s about dying and being raised. It’s about giving thanks to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ – victory over sin and victory over death.

This text from 1 Corinthians is often chosen as an appropriate one for funeral services. When a loved one has died, we are encouraged and strengthened by this message of confident hope in the power of God to transform our perishable, mortal bodies into ones that can live forever in the presence of our loving God.

I wonder if you’ve noticed that there are some Christians and some churches that focus almost exclusively on the promise of resurrection and eternal life with God. The major faith question is “Are you saved?” with the answer to that having to do with committing your life to Christ and receiving the assurance that you will be going to heaven when you die.

There are other Christians and churches, of course, that hardly ever talk about heaven. Their major concern is what God may be doing in your life in this world. Are you learning to follow Jesus more closely with your life? Are you doing justice, and loving kindness, and walking humbly with God? There’s not a lot mentioned about salvation, or if there is, it’s about being saved from a life of meaninglessness or selfishness, and taking up a life in relationship with Christ.

Most of us can probably locate ourselves (or our churches) in terms of where the emphasis lies in our faith. Are we mostly looking forward to experiencing the Kingdom of God in the afterlife, or are we mostly focussed on finding the Kingdom right here on earth?

It seems to me that what’s required is a balancing of these different perspectives. We need both the “already” and the “not yet” because that’s where the Kingdom of God is to be found.

When I think of the Kingdom of God when it finally comes to completion, I think of that image from the Book of Revelation of all God’s people standing together in God’s presence and singing praise:

“After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb… [And] they cried out in a loud voice, saying,‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb… Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honour and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.’”

It’s an image of unity – one church, one body of Christ – a unified People, praising God together.

There’s another image of praise in today’s text from the prophet Habakkuk:

“Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines…
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.

“Though the produce of the olive fails, and the fields yield no food…
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.

“Though the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.
I will exult in the God of my salvation.”

Even though the goodness of the Kingdom of God has not yet arrived in its fullness, still, we will rejoice in the Lord.

It is commonly said that we are in the winter of ecumenism. After the excitement of the first years of the ecumenical movement, we have seen diminished attention and concern for the unity of the church, for dialogue between our communities, or for resolving historic divisions and reconciling memories. It sometimes seems that ecumenism has been put on the shelf. It is not forgotten, but it is out of the way. It can be pulled out for special occasions, dusted off and displayed to our friends, but it is really not something that we think about every day.

Perhaps on the Prairies we have a unique perspective on winter. Normally, winter is harsh, bitterly cold and even treacherous. Yet even as we bundle up for winter, we get on with our daily lives. We go to work or school, we run our errands and do our chores, and we visit our friends. Some of us play outside: skating, skiing, snowmobiling. We go for walks and we find beauty in the snow drifts and the hoar frost. We even gather to pray for Christian unity in the midst of January, the coldest month of the year. We endure winter because we know that it will end. Already we feel the days growing longer and the sun shining more directly. We know that the snow and ice will melt, and the spring rains will clear away the dust, and perhaps in April or early May we will see the buds on the trees signalling that another season of growth is at hand.

I find it fascinating the way that God has made everything to work together. The seeds that fell from last year’s plants will lay dormant beneath the snow until the spring warmth and rains begin the process of growth. But the cold of winter is necessary. Many of you know better than I that cold is an essential stage in preparing seeds for germination. Freezing destroys some of the diseases that inhibit germination, but it also assists in breaking through the hard outer shell of many seeds. Once spring has arrived the farmers will plant their seeds, but with some plants and trees nature takes care of this all on its own. In God’s providence even the death grip of winter leads to new life.

If we are experiencing an ecumenical winter then we must live in Christian hope that winter will end and the seeds of unity will sprout once more. But we don’t just wait for spring, we must work patiently to prepare for the springtime. We must prepare the tools for ecumenical relationship: a greater understanding of our own traditions and the causes of division and a respect for the gifts of the Spirit lived and celebrated by our ecumenical partners. We must prepare now because the time is short, spring will be here very soon. Even now, this is not a winter of despair but one of new birth. In the spring we will experience a resurrection of unity.

As most of you know, we are an interchurch family. While I am Presbyterian, Nicholas is Roman Catholic, and we have decided not to give up either of our Christian Traditions, but to worship and pray together in both of our churches, and to work diligently for ecumenical education, dialogue, common witness, and common mission between our churches.

A: Because of our double belonging, we feel very keenly the divisions and brokenness within the Body of Christ. We notice the misunderstandings when people make assumptions about Traditions with which they are unfamiliar. And we find it hard to ignore when people use stereotypes about certain kinds of Christians, or when they make “we know better than they do” type comments. We are very aware of the things that our churches disagree about, and the doctrines and practices that maintain the barriers between us.

But our interchurch life also provides us with glimpses of the Body of Christ in its fully reconciled form. We celebrate the many opportunities to come together in prayer, to share our common faith in Christ, and to engage in dialogue and share our churches’ particular gifts. We are united in our baptism. We are united in our marriage. We are united in our faith in God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

We have a long way to go before we will experience the full visible unity of the church, and perhaps we are in an ecumenical winter. And yet, we will rejoice in the Lord. This Week of Prayer for Christian Unity gives us all an opportunity to experience a foretaste of the Kingdom of God – to pray together, to interpret the scriptures together, and to stand together with all Christians and profess our faith in God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.”

As we journey through the seasons of the church year and explore the texts of scripture each Sunday that are assigned by the lectionary cycle, we have the opportunity to focus on different parts of the Christian story.

During Advent, we enter into the experience of waiting. Longing, hoping, waiting for a Messiah to come… waiting for his return, waiting for our world to be put right. When Christmas finally arrives, we enter into the experience of the Holy Family, of the shepherds, and of the angels. We celebrate the gift of God in sending Jesus into our world, almost as if he has just arrived. And then, at Epiphany, we walk with the wise men to greet him. We experience the “aha moment” – the knowledge that Emmanuel has come – “God with us” for the whole world.

Today is the third Sunday after the Epiphany in our church year. We’re in what we call the “Season of Epiphany” and our scripture texts contain some wonderful epiphanies of their own. But I can’t help summing them up with one message from God: “It is time to live differently.”

The Greek word that is translated as “time” in each of our New Testament readings today is KAIROS. You might recognize that word from the name of our Canadian ecumenical social justice organization. KAIROS doesn’t have to do with what time it is on the clock. That’s CHRONOS – chronological time. CHRONOS deals with time in the sense of calendars and clocks. KAIROS refers to an opportune time, an appropriate moment. KAIROS declares that the right time has come – God’s time. And it calls us to act.

Our social justice organization calls itself KAIROS as a way of saying, “The time has come.” We are called to act on behalf of the poor, on behalf of the oppressed, on behalf of all those who are denied justice by our society’s structures and decisions. When we read the word KAIROS in our Greek New Testament, it will not be a comment about the time of day or the season of the year. When we see the word KAIROS, we know that something important is happening. Something long-awaited is taking place. It is time.

In the Gospel reading from Mark, we hear Jesus’ declaration that “it is time.” Jesus proclaims what Mark’s Gospel describes as “the good news of God” saying: “The time (the KAIROS) is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.”

What made it the right time? It’s hard to say. Jesus had been born, and grown up, and been baptized by John, and been through the temptations in the wilderness. Perhaps he was ready now – to do the work of ministry for which he had been born. Jesus says, “It is time.” I’m ready. This is the right moment.

But it’s not only the right moment for Jesus. It’s also the right moment for the people to whom he preaches. He says, “The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” It is time. Time to believe in God and God’s good news of love in Jesus Christ. Time to repent. Time to turn from selfish and sinful ways. Time to turn towards God’s ways.

We watch as Jesus approaches Simon and Andrew, James and John. We listen as Jesus says, “Follow me,” and they turn from their occupations and their families and everything that had been a part of their normal lives. We watch them get up and follow Jesus – to learn his teachings, to travel with him, and to help him proclaim his message – to let everyone know that “It is time.”

Those first disciples of Jesus, who left their nets to follow a wandering preacher, made a radical response to the message “It is time to live differently.” Others who came after them would not necessarily make such dramatic changes in lifestyle when they became followers of Jesus, we might assume.

And yet, in the early church, after Jesus’ death and resurrection, leaders like the Apostle Paul had the expectation that becoming a Christian would dramatically alter the course of each person’s life.

In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthian Christians, he tries to help them to sort out what their lives are to be like as followers of Jesus, post-resurrection. It’s one thing to drop your nets and follow a real, live person who will guide you and teach you and give direction and shape to your life. It’s quite another to respond to the call to follow when Jesus is not on earth to show the way.

So Paul teaches the Corinthians about worship, about sharing resources, about sharing gifts, about loving one another, and about how to interact with people of other religions within their multi-cultural city. But essentially, what Paul teaches them is that “it is time to live differently.”

Paul had the hope and the expectation that Jesus would be coming back very soon and that the present form of the world would be passing away. He told them not to concern themselves with buying things or with possessions. He told them not to focus on marriages or mourning rituals.

I think he was saying that the things that caused them so much worry and anxiety at that time would not be very important in the long term. I think he was saying that they should focus on God and on what God was calling them to do right there and then. He was saying, “It is time to live differently.”

Today, in this time, we are invited to consider what time it is now. (In terms of CHRONOS, it’s 11:35 a.m. on Sunday, January 22^nd, 2012.) But in terms of KAIROS, is it time for you to respond to a particular calling from God? Are you being asked to leave some part of your life, some priority, some activity behind, and to do something different with your life? Are you being asked to take a risk, to give of yourself to proclaim the Gospel, or to create justice, or to make peace? What mission or calling or change is God calling you to make in your life today? Or what has God been calling you to do for some time now that you’ve been avoiding?

When I think about the question of KAIROS – what time it is right now, what we as Christians and churches are being called to do at this time – an important event that comes to mind is the upcoming National Event of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The TRC is already in Saskatchewan right now, conducting hearings in a variety of communities, giving opportunities for the survivors of residential schools and others impacted by the school system to tell their stories and be heard.

In June of this year, the TRC will hold a National Event here in Saskatoon at Prairieland Park. The event will include statement gathering, witnessing survivor statements, survivor gatherings, traditional ceremonies, cultural performances, and education. And all Canadians, whether Aboriginal or non-Aboriginal, are being encouraged to participate.

Today, our churches (our denominational bodies) are encouraging local Christians to participate in the TRC process. We have church representatives on the planning committee for the event in Saskatoon, and representatives from our national churches will come and participate by witnessing survivor statements and offering apologies. In Prince Albert, the Presbyterian Church is organizing to have church representatives present for each day and hour of the hearings that will be held there next week.

It is time for us to be present, to listen, and to provide opportunities to share the truth of our history as a country so that healing and reconciliation may become a real possibility.

Many people would say that something like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission should have happened years ago. After failing to act for so long, maybe it’s simply too late to make a difference in the lives of the residential school students or their children and grandchildren whose lives have also been scarred by the damage done to previous generations. But I would argue that it’s never too late to respond to God’s call and do what is right.

I would like to report that when God calls me to action, or to repentance, or to generosity, or to a new way of life, that I always respond immediately – that I drop what I’m doing and follow. But that’s not really true. I’m sure that I’m not the only one here who has a tendency to procrastinate.

Especially when it comes to tasks that are particularly challenging, or unpleasant, or scary, it’s easy to put them off and to avoid doing the things that God is calling us to do immediately. In fact, we may be wracked with guilt over the things that we should have done, that we should have done immediately, and we still haven’t done them – whether it’s having a difficult conversation to make peace in a relationship, or picking up the phone or going to visit someone who is sick, or making the time to finish a project or task that no longer seems interesting to us.

But today, I invite you to remember the story of Jonah. When God told Jonah that it was time to go to Ninevah, Jonah didn’t just procrastinate about the journey, he actually ran in the other direction to avoid the trip. God sent Jonah to go to Ninevah and call that great city to repentance – to call them to return to the ways of God. It wasn’t the kind of mission that most people would get excited about, and I think it scared Jonah to death!

It was time for him to go to Ninevah, and Jonah ran away. But after a bit of back-peddling and a time-out in the belly of a fish, Jonah eventually went. He went to Ninevah and he marched around the city and called the people to repentance, as God had told him to do.

And they did repent. Right away. All the people “great and small” proclaimed a fast and put on sack cloth – signs of repentance. Even the king repented, and he made a decree that everyone in the city should do the same – repent of their evil ways and cry mightily to God. “Who knows?” he said, “God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish.” And that, indeed, is what God did.

It is time, Jesus proclaimed. The Kingdom of God is near. Repent, and believe in the good news. It is time, Jesus called. Come and follow me and be my disciples. It is time, Jesus continues to call. It is time to live differently, to make your lives about following my way, to respond to my invitations, to do my work in the world. It is time to stop, to listen, and to seek to understand our Aboriginal sisters and brothers who were affected by the legacy of the residential schools. This is a KAIROS moment, and one not to be missed. It is time.

The following sermon is posted with thanks to Kathryn Matthews Huey, whose reflections on Psalm 139 (from the website of the United Church of Christ) provided significant inspiration, and from whom I borrowed several paragraphs.

There is an obvious connection between the Old Testament and Gospel readings this morning. They are “call narratives” – stories about people who received a call from God. In First Samuel 3, a little boy is called to become “a trustworthy prophet of the Lord,” and John’s Gospel tells the story of Philip and Nathanael leaving everything behind to follow Jesus when they realize that he is the one “about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote.”

Many of us here today (perhaps all of us) have also been called by God. We probably weren’t wakened by God’s voice calling out our name in the middle of the night, and we didn’t have Jesus literally walk up to us and say, “Come and follow me.” But we have heard God’s call in the words of the Bible, through the voices of preachers and teachers, or as an urgent sense of needing to get out of our own concerns and do something for God.

Some have heard calls to particular ministries in the church. Others have sensed a call to speak up for someone who was in trouble, or to speak out for what was right and just at work or in the community. We’ve been called to give our gifts and to give our time and talent. We’ve been called to live our lives for God and to follow the way of Jesus, whether or not we have a dramatic story to share about the day that we first heard God’s voice.

I noticed an odd little detail in the story about Jesus calling Nathanael this week. When Jesus saw Nathanael coming towards him, he said to him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” What a nice thing to hear from Jesus!

“I know that you are a good person, an honest person, not the kind of person who would lie or steal or try to trick someone!” That’s the gist of what Jesus says to Nathanael when Nathanael first walks up to him.

And Nathanael asks Jesus, “Where did you get to know me?” “You’ve never met me before. How do you know what I’m like?” And Jesus tells him, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

A more argumentative person probably would have had a few more questions for Jesus: “So you saw me under the fig tree… So what? What could you possibly know about me from that? You don’t even know my name!”

But Nathanael replied instead, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” The implication is that Nathanael has come to believe simply because he can see that this man knows him.

It makes me wonder about how Jesus must have been looking at Nathanael – what he must have been conveying through his eyes, or through his posture, through more than just his words. Jesus barely even speaks the words, “I know you, Nathanael,” and somehow Nathanael feels that he is known – maybe even that he is loved. And he believes. And he follows Jesus.

Psalm 139 is one of my favourite psalms. And when I thought about Nathanael’s question, “Where did you get to know me?” I realized that the psalm provides a fitting response.

If Nathanael was familiar with the psalm prayers of his Hebrew Tradition, perhaps Psalm 139 sprang to his mind as he stood before Jesus for the first time. Perhaps what became clear to Nathanael in that interaction was that this man KNEW him in a way that only GOD can know each one of us.

The psalmist writes this prayer to God:
“O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.”

Unlike the rest of the Bible, the psalms are addressed directly to God. The other books are history, stories, law, proverbial sayings, letters and other forms of writing. But the psalms are Israel’s prayer book. And even today, thousands of years later, they still express our deepest feelings, fear and joy and anger and confusion, better than anything that we can come up with.

Isn’t it amazing to think about the psalmist? We might picture him sitting on a rock on a hillside, writing these beautiful words. When I read them, they bring to mind the pictures, provided by modern technological wonders, of an unborn child, curled in the foetal position, sucking her thumb, cradled in her mother’s womb: “It was you who formed my inward parts;” the psalmist writes, “you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”

A prayer arises naturally in our throats when we see such a wonder. It’s a prayer of praise, not of ourselves, as if we are responsible for our own beauty or even for the beauty of our children. From our hearts comes a prayer of praise and worship and adoration of the God who has formed not only the vast expanses of heaven and earth and all the unfathomable mysteries they contain, but also the tiny, delicate fingers and toes of a newborn baby.

It is easy for us, as parents, or grandparents, or loving friends, to see the beauty and wonder of God’s handiwork when we look at a newborn baby or a child, or when we raise our eyes to the heavens and gaze at the stars, or when we walk in a garden and see the exquisite loveliness of flowers and stones side by side.

What seems to be more difficult is for us to look at ourselves, all grown up and somewhat the worse for wear, and to pray that same prayer with quite the same enthusiasm. As we live out our lives, knowing both failures and shortcomings, as well as accomplishments and successes, we seem to know especially well our faults and limitations. Of course we try to hide them. But they are ever present in our own minds.

Peter Gomes wrote a book about the Bible called “The Good Book.” In one chapter, entitled “The Bible and the Good Life,” he describes the “imposter syndrome” that afflicts us all. We spend our days, he says, in image building, trying to hide our weaknesses from one another, whether in the boardroom, on the athletic field or on the battlefield. We dress a certain way, use body language and speech in a certain way, and even pile up credentials and experience to prove that we are “good enough.”

But Gomes reminds us: “There is good news, and that is why they call it the Gospel. The news is not that we are worse than we think, it is that we are better than we think, and better than we deserve to be. Why? Because at the very bottom of the whole enterprise is the indisputable fact that we are created, made, formed, invented, patented in the image of goodness itself. That is what it means, that is how one translates being created in the image of God: it means to be created in the image of goodness itself… People may take everything away from you, they may deprive you of everything you have and value, but they cannot take away from you the fact that you are a child of God and bear the impression of God in your very soul.”

What the psalm tells us is that God is with us at the core of our very being, deeper than anything the scientists can ever measure or understand. The psalm reassures us that no matter what, God knows us, each and every one of us. We are precious in God’s sight.

The reading from First Corinthians today – as specific as it may be about what Paul teaches we should and should not do with our bodies – is, at its core, about the fact that we belong to God. Our spirits, our minds, and indeed our bodies, are the good creation of God, made to glorify God in all things. We are temples of the Holy Spirit – creations of God made to carry God’s good Spirit within us. And we are not our own – we belong to God.

And yet, it’s still hard to hear those stories of God’s call and not to assume that God calls only especially good, or talented, or wise, or holy people to do God’s work in the world. James Limburg, writing in the commentary “Feasting on the Word,” assures us that each and every one of us is that specially created and chosen one of God. He says “we are not mass-produced but custom-made.” And then he tells the story about a young rabbi called Zusya.

Zusya was quite discouraged about his failures and weaknesses. An older rabbi said to him, “When you get to heaven, God is not going to say to you, “Why weren’t you Moses?” No, God will say, “Why weren’t you Zusya?” So why don’t you stop trying to be Moses, and start being the Zusya God created you to be?”

“I praise you, O God, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.”

May we know, this day, that we are beautiful, wonderful creations and precious to the God who knows us completely. And may we hear God’s voice calling us to follow Jesus and to use our precious lives for the glory of God alone. Amen.

St. Andrew’s Will Host an Ecumenical Worship Service on Monday, January 23rd at 7:00 a.m. During the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity each year, the Prairie Centre for Ecumenism co-ordinates a series of worship opportunities in churches of many denominations across the city of Saskatoon. St. Andrew’s has agreed to host one of the early morning services, followed by a continental breakfast in the lower hall of the church.

We hope that many of our members will take the opportunity to participate in this prayer for the unity of the church, either by attending the service at St. Andrew’s and welcoming our Christian friends, or by joining in the other prayer services throughout the week. See the full schedule for the WPCU in Saskatoon January 22-29, 2012.

Holy Communion: A Study of Theology and Practice: The Session of St. Andrew’s is planning to meet on Saturday, February 4th from 1:00 – 4:00 p.m. to study and discuss the theology and practice of Holy Communion in our church. This event will be open to anyone in the congregation to attend and participate.

Holy Communion is a gift from Christ to the church. Before there were Books of Common Order or formal creeds, even before the New Testament was written, the first Christians met on the Lord’s Day to read the Scriptures, the letters from the apostles, and to celebrate the Lord’s Supper.

Please join us for this time of study and discussion as we deepen our understanding of this Sacrament, as well as appreciate the mystery of Christ’s presence with us when we gather at the Table of the Lord. We will conclude the afternoon with a short worship service and celebration of Holy Communion.

“Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?” Well into the Book of Acts and the story of the early Christian Church, the Apostle Paul passed through a particular region and came to the city of Ephesus, where he found some disciples. Paul asked them, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?” And they replied, “No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit.”

It’s probably a reasonable assumption to expect that there is no one here today who has not heard that there is a Holy Spirit. Some of you may be intimately acquainted with the Spirit, having experienced its working in your lives. Perhaps it was a nudge you felt pushing you to do something for God’s mission. Maybe it was a peace that you experienced despite the fear and stress associated with a crisis in your life. Or perhaps you knew that the Holy Spirit was surrounding you when you simply had the sense that God was near and that you were not alone.

We have an advantage, compared to the first small group of Christians in Ephesus, and that advantage is that someone has already come to tell us about the Spirit. We have the witness of our parents and grandparents in the faith. We have the testimony of the apostles and the church throughout the centuries. We have the Scriptures, including the New Testament writings, that pass along the convictions of the earliest Christians.

We can read about how they experienced God’s abiding presence, not only in the life of Jesus of Nazareth, but through an intangible presence that remained with them even after Jesus had died and been raised up to heaven. They experienced this Spirit of God both as a comfort and encouragement, and as one who filled them and equipped them to be instruments of God’s work in the world – proclaiming the Gospel and sharing God’s love with all whom they met.

But when Paul first stopped by the city of Ephesus, the group of twelve disciples there had not even heard of the Holy Spirit yet. They knew that God was doing a new thing in their time. They had received the baptism of repentance that John the Baptist had been offering, and they had probably repented of their sin and turned their lives towards the goal of following Jesus and his teachings.

We can imagine that they were probably very excited about the new life that they had begun. But they were probably also pretty worried about whether they would be able to live up to God’s expectations. Jesus’ way of life was not an easy one to follow, and they may not have been too sure that they could pull it off.

Until Paul got to their city, no one had told them that they weren’t alone. No one had told them that they would have help along the way in their new Christian lives. No one had told them that God was not only present in Jesus Christ, when Jesus walked around in the world preaching, and teaching, and healing… and God was not only present as a heavenly Father above them… but God was actually present in their lives, in their bodies, in their relationships, and all around them.

Over the next several centuries, as the church grew and became established, the Scriptures were written, collected, and edited. The doctrines of the church were put into words and eventually agreed-upon creeds or statements of faith. And I don’t think you could become a Christian today without first having learned about and professed your faith in God the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

This past Fall, the Sunday morning bible study group decided to explore the Holy Spirit together. We didn’t find a study book or resource to guide us, so we simply delved into the Scriptures themselves looking for the many references to the Holy Spirit and seeing what we could learn about this mysterious and powerful presence in the lives of God’s people throughout history.

This morning’s readings provide some great samples from the passages that we discovered together, and they emphasize the fact that the Holy Spirit was present from the very beginning, was made manifest in the life of Christ, and continued to inspire and animate God’s people even after Jesus’ death and resurrection.

And today is not an exceptional Sunday. You can’t hang around the church community for very long without noticing the readings about the promised Holy Spirit, without hearing prayers for the Spirit’s help and encouragement in our lives, without joining in words such as these from Living Faith:
“The Holy Spirit is the Lord and Giver of Life,
the Renewer and Helper of God’s people.
By the Spirit, God is present in the world,
the source of all goodness and justice.
By the Spirit, God convinces the world of sin
and testifies to the truth of Christ.
By the Spirit, Christ is with his church.”

When we welcome a new little one into our church family, or when a teen or an adult comes to profess their faith and be baptized, we are clear about what we believe is happening. It’s the Holy Spirit who is at work in the Sacrament of Baptism. And we pray:

“Almighty God;
by the power of your Holy Spirit,
by the sign of this water,
you cleanse from sin through the death of Jesus Christ,
those who receive this sacrament;
you raise them to new life through his resurrection,
and you graft them into his body, the church.
Pour out your Spirit upon these your children,
that they may have power to do your will
and continue forever as servants of Christ
to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit
be all honour and glory, now and forever.”

But I wonder… if Paul or someone were to come through Saskatoon today and meet the little group of disciples that meets for worship and service and fellowship in this place… if Paul were to come by and ask us straight up, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?” how would we respond? How do we know that we received the Spirit? How do we know that the Spirit is actually within us?

Some might claim that they felt the Spirit’s presence at their baptism. I’ve been heard to say something like that when I reflect on my baptism as a teenager… that I felt the warmth of the Spirit around me, that I had a sense of being surrounded and filled with the Spirit of God.

But others might say that they know that the Spirit is in their lives because they trust in the statements and doctrines of the church. The church teaches that the Holy Spirit comes to dwell within us in our baptism, that the Spirit fills and equips the people of God to be the Body of Christ in the world, and many of us may place our trust in that authority.

Of course, as Christians in the Reformed Tradition, we place a great deal of emphasis on the ultimate authority of the Scriptures. And the Bible is full of the assurance that God’s Spirit is promised and given as a gift to God’s people. We might easily rely on that promise and proclaim that yes, indeed, we did receive the Holy Spirit when we were baptized.

At times, the Spirit has been compared to the wind. And rightly so, because both the Greek word for Spirit (pneuma) and the Hebrew word for Spirit (ruach) can be translated appropriately as spirit, breath, or wind – that amazing force or power of God that brings life to the world.

The wind, of course, cannot be seen. But the wind is powerful, and the effects of the wind can be seen and heard and experienced. Indeed, the effects of the wind are often very difficult to ignore. And the same is true for the Holy Spirit of God.

I’m reminded of that when I think of the first day of Pentecost after Jesus’ death and resurrection. I wonder how the various disciples that were present described the experience they shared of receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit. Someone said it was like a great wind sweeping through the room and tongues of fire landing on the disciples. Someone else might have said that they suddenly felt filled up with courage and boldness to engage in God’s mission. And another would have described it as an uneasy feeling that would not subside until they got out of that house and starting telling the people about Jesus.

But we know that the Spirit was poured out on the gathered disciples that day because we see the effects of the Spirit in their lives. They began to preach the Gospel. They reached out beyond boundaries of language and culture, and told the Good News that changed the lives of many and turned their hearts towards God.

In his letter to the Galatian Christians, Paul makes it clear that the Holy Spirit can be seen in the lives of God’s people. There is a way to know if they received the Holy Spirit, or at least to know if they are living BY the Spirit, allowing the Spirit to guide and direct their lives. And that evidence is the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I attended a funeral yesterday. It was a celebration of the life of a Saskatoon woman who died way too young at the age of 40. I knew Sheryl from having served with her on the Leadership and Program Committee for Camp Christopher where I appreciated her cheerfulness, her helpfulnesss, and her kindness. And I learned a great deal more about her life yesterday as I listened to the tributes and remembrances of her family and friends.

They didn’t spend time at the service talking about what Sheryl believed, or the fact that she was baptized, and there wasn’t a big focus on reassuring us all that she would be heading towards heaven to be with God. But I left the service with a deep sense of the Spirit of God in her life.

I don’t know if she had any “spiritual” experiences, and I doubt that she ever spoke in tongues, but the fruit of the Spirit was evident in her life. The people who came in contact with her could attest to the fact that her life brought love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control into their lives. And so I have no doubt that she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she was letting that Spirit guide her life, because that Spirit was producing good fruit.

It caused me to reflect, as funeral services often do, what might be said about me if my life were to suddenly come to an end. I wonder if you’ve thought about that too at times. In what ways is my life, my time, my energy being directed by the Spirit such that it produces kindness or generosity? It what ways am I allowing the Spirit to guide me to share love, and express joy, and cultivate peace?

Perhaps there is an area or two that is challenging for you… generosity that is stifled by fear, patience that is tried by difficult circumstances, or faithfulness that is undermined by experiences of being betrayed. But the fact that we do not yet produce all this fruit perfectly does not indicate that the Spirit has left us, or that we never had the Spirit of God within us. It simply means that the Spirit has some work left to accomplish within us, and we need to make space in our lives for the transformation that God is preparing for us.

I believe that whether we know it or not, we have all been blessed with the gift of God’s Holy Spirit in our lives. And no, we don’t have to prove it, or account for it, or give any evidence to demonstrate it. But we do need to make space in our lives for the Spirit to guide us – to let the fruit grow and bless the world.

Consider the various fruit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Which one can you simply celebrate as a gift that is already manifest in your life? Which one do you need to make space for, or to cultivate? Don’t expect them all to grow as easily and quickly as the others. But remember that their growth does not come from your determination or your strength, but by the Holy Spirit’s activity in and through you.

When the end of your life does come, and your friends and family and church community share stories of the difference that you made in the world and in their lives, it won’t be because you are awesome. It won’t be because you are the best person in the world. It will be because of the gift of God’s Holy Spirit that filled you, and equipped you, and worked through you to produce wonderful fruit. Thanks be to God.

Children’s Message:
Good morning, and Merry Christmas to all of you! I am so glad that you are here today. It is good to see you, and to shake your hands, and to be together to praise God on this Christmas morning!

I wonder… have you ever been far away from someone you loved at a special time like Christmas? Maybe you sent that person a Christmas card, which is nice. Or maybe you even got to talk on the phone, which is even better. That’s what I’ll do with my parents and sisters and brother this Christmas. I’ll talk to them on the phone. That will be good, but not quite as good as actually being there – where you can see each other, and give each other hugs, and just spend time together.

This year, Nick and I are going to fly to BC. We’re leaving this afternoon to visit Nick’s parents, and we’re looking forward to being with them. I wonder if you have anyone special visiting you this year… Does anyone have any special guests with them for Christmas? (We are so glad that you are here!)

Now, to those of you who are hosting guests: When did you start to get excited about your visitors? Was it just today when you got up on Christmas morning? Or was it the day your guests arrived? Or was it the day you found out they were coming? It was earlier, wasn’t it? Before they even arrived!

That reminds me of a passage from the bible – from the prophet Isaiah. He wrote it a long time before the time of Jesus. It was during a time when the People of Israel were feeling very lonely and sad. Some of their friends had been taken away to live in exile in a foreign land, and things back home just weren’t the same without them. The people felt so discouraged that they thought maybe God didn’t care about them anymore. They couldn’t imagine how God could let something like this happen!

But the prophet Isaiah knew better. He knew that God never abandons us, and he was sure that something good was going to happen soon, the exiles were going to come home.

This is what Isaiah wrote: (Isaiah 52:7-10)
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion. Break forth together into singing, you ruins of Jerusalem; for the Lord has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem. The Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all the nations; and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.

That bible reading had some big words in it, but I hope you got the idea… A messenger is coming to announce the good news that God’s People are all coming home to be with their friends in Jerusalem. God has not left the people. God is helping them. And God is planning for a wonderful reunion. They can see the messenger coming with the good news! It’s almost time!

The people must have been so excited when they say the messenger coming. Even before the messenger arrived, they were excited. They said, “Look at the beautiful feet of the messenger who is coming!” They were so excited about the good news he was bringing that they thought even the feet that carried him to them were beautiful.

Some of us have been excited about our visitors and about visits we get to go on this Christmas. But we’ve all been excited about Christmas itself, haven’t we? I don’t know about you, but sometimes on Christmas Eve, I’m almost too excited to go to sleep. I lie awake thinking about all the special Christmas things – with Christmas carols running through my mind – and wondering about the special things that will happen on Christmas Day.

I hope that today will be a wonderful day for all of you, and that you’ll remember the best gift of all that we celebrate at Christmas. God’s people waited a long, long time for this special gift – for God to actually come and visit them IN PERSON. (Not just a message or a commandment.) Jesus was born. And Jesus is God coming to be with us in person. Let’s celebrate this wonderful gift!

Meditation:
Today we celebrate the incarnation of God. God is not just a good idea, or a kind thought. But God became a body – with hands and arms, feet and legs, head and heart. As the author of the book of Hebrews explains it, “Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets.” God preached, and God instructed, God corrected, and God comforted. And God did all this with words.

But now, “in these last days [God] has spoken to us by a Son.” “And the Word became flesh,” John’s Gospel proclaims so eloquently, “the Word became flesh and lived among us.”

We have all experienced the blessing of having someone we love come to visit us. Strangely, we don’t always have much to say when they come. After all, we’ve been communicating all along through letters or emails or texts or phone calls. But something is so different and so special when that person comes to visit us. We’re not alone. We’re at home. We can just BE together.

“How beautiful are the FEET of the messenger who announces peace and brings good news,” Isaiah proclaims. “But what is beautiful about feet?” we might ask. Not much, really. Feet are pretty funny-looking, when you think about it. They can certainly look pretty yucky, especially when they’re tired and sore, when they’re blistered or calloused… and they might not smell very nice either!

But what is beautiful about the feet is their coming. What is beautiful about the feet is the purpose they serve in carrying the messenger and his good news. What is beautiful about the feet is what they are doing – travelling the distance and climbing the mountains to get there.

How extraordinary is this good news that the messenger brings to the People of Israel? It is so good that the exiles rejoice even before it is achieved. They praise the very feet of the messenger who is bringing news to Zion that its citizens are on their way home; they break into singing when the sentinels send out word that the exiles can be seen in the distance; they are comforted even before they celebrate their reunions.

Biblical commentaries note that even the verb tenses in the passage play up the relationship between what has already happened, what is happening, and what has yet to happen. And there is excitement about all three! God HAS COMFORTED his people, he HAS REDEEMED Jerusalem. The messenger IS ANNOUNCING peace, he IS BRINGING good news. And all the ends of the earth WILL SEE the salvation of our God.

This interplay of tenses is a normal part of our expression of faith as well. In Advent, we waited for the God who CAME to us in the form of a manger-born baby, and now we wait for God who WILL COME again.

At Christmas, we celebrate God’s redemption of the world through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Christ. It’s an event that happened more than 2000 years ago. It is finished. And yet, even as we celebrate what God has done, we have to notice that God is doing something right now. God is present with us, and God is coming to us in Word and Sacrament. God is comforting us in our sorrow, and rejoicing with us in our joy. God is forgiving us for our sins, and calling us to follow the way of Jesus with our lives. God is turning our lives upside down, just as God turned the world upside down so many years ago with the coming of the child.

What God has done for us in the past, and what God is doing in us, and among us, and between us today are beautifully intertwined. And they are also tied up with our hope for what God will one day complete.

For we look and wait for the day when Christ will come again to make all things new. We watch and we work for the day when the Kingdom of God will be fulfilled, when the earth is filled with the knowledge and love of God, as the waters cover the sea. Even today, on Christmas Day, we live between “the already” and “the not yet.”

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news.” As we learn to see even the feet of the messenger as praiseworthy, we gain practice in praise for that day when the ends of the earth do see the salvation of our God, and praise is all that is left to do. Amen.

This reflection followed a creative presentation of the Christmas story by the children of St. Andrew’s Church School. The Christmas story was told in an imaginative way – from the perspective of the inn keeper’s family and their neighbours down the street who were actively looking for God’s Messiah to come.

I went to see Handel’s Messiah on Wednesday evening last week. It was presented, as usual, by the Saskatoon Symphony Chamber Orchestra and the Saskatoon Chamber Singers – the continuation of a wonderful Christmas tradition both here and around the world.

Although I’ve listened to Handel’s Messiah many times before, and even sung in performances of the choruses in my youth, I was struck once again by the amazing musical settings of some of the most powerful and meaningful words of scripture that are so dear to us as Christians.

One of the things that stood out was how many of the texts Handel chose were from the Old Testament – from the prophets. In our children’s Christmas play this morning, these would have been the prophetic texts that the father was trying to teach to his children, and that his daughter, Esther, was exploring. These were the texts that explained that God would send a Saviour, a Messiah, and that he would come as a child. And Esther and her father were waiting and watching for these texts to be fulfilled, for God’s promises to be granted.

• Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel – God with us.

It is interesting to imagine, with the author of today’s play, that a family of Jewish people, living in Bethlehem at the turn of the first century, were studying the prophets’ words and watching for God’s promises to be fulfilled in the birth of a child who would come to be God’s very presence with us.

The historical reality, of course, is more likely that Jesus was born without anyone much noticing that he was born. No one probably figured out that he was anyone special until many years later – maybe when they heard him preaching in the synagogue or teaching in the countryside, maybe when they saw him performing miracles or heard his bold pronouncements of grace and forgiveness.

But even then, most people missed the fact that Jesus was God’s Word made flesh. They had no idea that the promises and predictions of the great prophets were being fulfilled in him.

• For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, unto us a son is given…

It wasn’t until much later that Jesus’ followers and others began to truly understand who he was. It was long after his birth, after his ministry, after his rejection and his death on a cross. It was after some of Jesus’ followers started to proclaim that God had raised him from death, that he had appeared to them, and then gone up into heaven.

That’s when they were able to look back on his life, his ministry, and his death, and to see the amazing gift that he was – to see that he was God’s very presence with us, God’s Word made flesh, God’s promises fulfilled, God’s love for us lived out in the life of a human person.

My hope for each one of us this Christmas is that we would not go through this season unaware of the presence of God in our lives. Sure, we could probably look back on this time many months or years from now, and identify the ways that God was present and active in our church, in our families, and in our community.

But my hope is that today we will catch a little bit of the spirit of the Esther character in the play. Not only was she interested in God’s promises, but she was actively looking for God to be doing something in her life. Not many people would have noticed what she did.

But not only that… Esther wanted to get involved in what she saw God was doing. She decided to participate – to help in preparing God’s way into the world.

I wonder… Can we be people who are actively looking for God’s presence in our world, who are noticing what is happening right in front of our eyes where God’s presence is made flesh among us?

And can we be people who are looking for ways to be involved – to provide a cup of water, or a place to sleep, or a blanket for a cold night?

May the words of the prophets be fulfilled, and the Word of God become flesh once again this Christmas. May the Word become flesh in our lives.

• Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,
  and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
  Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,
  and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.

Peace before us, peace behind us, peace under our feet,
Peace within us, peace over us, let us around us be peace.

Advent is an appropriate season to spend time in prayer for peace.

In the midst of the hustle and bustle of this busy month, we might pray for moments of peace, quiet, and calm in which to experience the presence of God in our lives. And we could pray for the gift of peace for those whose schedules keep them running, or whose “to do” lists are too long to complete in these few weeks.

Remembering those who are weighed down by heavy responsibilities and stressful situations, we might pray for the gift of peace that relieves stress and reduces anxiety. We could pray for those who suffer from anxiety disorders, as well as for those who are experiencing stress-inducing circumstances.

It would be appropriate also, for us to pray for peace in the lives of those who are struggling with brokenness in their relationships – for couples who feel stuck in cycles of conflict, for parents and children who cannot see eye to eye, for siblings, cousins, friends, and colleagues who are mis-communicating, mis-understanding, and so desperately need God’s help for reconciliation and peace.

We might also think of so many people who are longing for peace in their own minds and hearts. For those wracked with guilt, we could pray for God’s forgiveness to lead them to healing and peace. And for those consumed by anger, we could pray that they receive the courage to offer forgiveness themselves, and to find freedom and peace.

Even as we pray for peace in our own lives, in our families, and between friends, we should also pray for peace in our church, and in all the churches of the world. People outside the church might wonder at that. Don’t church people get along with each other? Or if we don’t seem to get along, they might write off the church as a place full of hypocrites. You people are supposed to be good! You’re supposed to be kind and generous and forgiving, and you can’t even get along?

But we’re all human, and we need God’s help to live and work and serve together in peace. We need God’s help to care for one another in appropriate ways, to make space for one another to share all our gifts, and to be patient with each other when we’re not perfect.

And, of course, we need to pray for the gift of peace in our world. We need to pray for peace between countries and world leaders, between cultures, tribes, and religions. We need to pray for peace – for the true SHALOM of God – which is not just the absence of conflict, but the fullness of life for all people.

True peace needs righteousness. Not the puffed-up morality the word has often come to connote, but righteousness in its original meaning, that is, RIGHT RELATIONS, be they with God, with others, in our families, or among nations.

Sometimes we call it justice. But for that righteousness or justice to be more than legalistic fairness, it needs the breadth of vision found in God’s shalom – God’s peace.

Peace before us, peace behind us, peace under our feet,
Peace within us, peace over us, let us around us be peace.

Last Sunday we talked and prayed about the longing that we have for a world set right – for God’s kingdom to come in its fullness, for Christ’s return, for a new heaven and a new earth. And today, it’s almost like we’re one step closer to that longing being fulfilled. We’ve moved from LONGING to ANTICIPATION.

We heard the words of 2^nd Isaiah this morning, encouraging God’s people as they neared the end of their exile in Babylon: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term… See, the Lord God comes with might… He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”

The struggle is nearly over, and peace is on its way. God is with the people, and God is helping them and guiding them towards a hopeful and peaceful future.

In the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel too, there is great anticipation for a new day that is dawning. The long-awaited Messiah is on his way. The powerful One who will baptize the people with the Holy Spirit is coming. He’s almost here, John the Baptist proclaims. It’s time to start preparing for his coming.

I’ve preached on those classic texts from Isaiah and Mark many times before, but I don’t think I’ve ever paid much attention to this morning’s psalm. This week, however, it was Psalm 85 that piqued my interest.

Not unlike Isaiah’s words today, Psalm 85 proclaims the goodness of God and the amazing grace of God to forgive the people and restore their fortunes. It includes several verses of lament in which the people pray for God’s help and salvation, and then the psalmist shares a wonderful vision of God’s salvation this is coming: “Surely God’s salvation is at hand,” he assures us. And this is what salvation will look like:

“Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;
righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,
and righteousness will look down from the sky.”

I think you have to have a bit of a poetic heart to understand this psalm. These wonderful characteristics of love, faithfulness, justice, and peace are coming together in a beautiful meeting. These holy attributes are personified so that we may imagine hands reaching out in greeting, and arms opening wide in an embrace.

These virtues coming together in unity are what bring about the salvation of God – they are what make for the new order that is full of God’s peace.

The peace that the psalmist expects God to proclaim is SHALOM, a comprehensive well-being that encompasses the fulfillment of every individual and corporate need, as well as the health of the natural order, in addition to the absence of violence and conflict.

The covenant bringing SHALOM is God’s gift. It is at God’s initiative. It is God’s work and God’s accomplishment. And yet, the people also have a part to play by turning to God, remaining faithful, and co-operating with God’s purposes.

After all, both Isaiah and John the Baptist told the people the good news about what God was doing, and they called the people to respond. They said, “Repent!” They told them to “Prepare!” They made sure that everyone knew that something wonderful was about to happen and that everyone had a chance to be a part of it.

One commentator suggests that in Psalm 85, attributes of God (steadfast love and righteousness) are paired up with responses from God’s people (faithfulness and peace). It is God’s righteousness that is described as “looking down from the sky,” and our faithfulness is springing up from the ground. (Doesn’t that description sound like some of Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of God?)

The coming kingdom is not something that we can accomplish for ourselves through our own good works, but neither is it something that God does in isolation. The kingdom is something that happens when God’s steadfast love meets our faithfulness, when God’s righteousness and justice embrace our commitment to peace.

And so, as we wait and pray for peace in our lives, in our relationships, in our church, and in our world, we do so NOT as passive observers, waiting for God to set things right. But we do so as people who are called and empowered to respond to God’s goodness. We do so as people who are invited to participate in God’s plan for salvation and peace.

Peace before us, peace behind us, peace under our feet,
Peace within us, peace over us, let us around us be peace.

Although most congregations and ministers might agree with the ecumenical goal in theory, actual sharing in worship, witness and service with our Christian neighbours often gets pushed aside because of the busy schedules and many demands on our church leaders.  On the Canadian Prairies, the churches have a long history of working together, and the current members of the Presbytery of Northern Saskatchewan have inherited a great legacy of involvement and relationship with our Christian friends. Not only do our congregations and ministers participate in local ministerials and councils of churches, but as a presbytery we are one of seven sponsoring denominations of the Prairie Centre for Ecumenism in Saskatoon. The purpose of the Centre is “to be an instrument for Christian reconciliation and unity… and to advance towards that unity in order that the world may believe.”

Read the complete letter on the Record’s website.

The concert will follow the “Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols” format, which is an order of service made famous by the annual performances from King’s College, Cambridge.  The format for the “Lessons and Carols” was created in 1880 by Edward White Benson, later Archbishop of Canterbury but at that time Bishop of Truro in Cornwall.  It was further adapted in 1918 by Eric Milner-White, dean of King’s College Cambridge.  Lessons and Carols occur in Anglican, Roman Catholic, Lutheran and Presbyterian churches.  St. Andrew’s will be using seven of the nine lessons and after each lesson there will be a choir anthem, solo or a carol sung by choir and congregation.

Please join us in this enchanting, inspirational evening of Christmas readings and song.

Anyone interested in joining the festivity is welcome to participate; a free will offering will be taken for the Good Food Junction. Children and youth interested in taking part are asked to be at Third Avenue United Church (304 3^rd Ave N) at 2:00 pm on December 10^th for a rehearsal (with costumes, if you have them!).

Those who would like a CD of the music to practice ahead of time can contact Janice Sanford Beck at 655-5301. Refreshments will be served. Anyone willing to contribute cookies or fruit is asked to bring it to Third Avenue United Church between 1:00 and 2:00 pm on Dec 10^th.

If your life is perfect, then you may not be able to relate to the scripture texts this morning for the first Sunday in Advent. If you are happy and healthy and well, and you live with your beautiful family in a lovely neighbourhood, enjoying your spacious home and your comfortable income… If you’re getting ready for an absolutely wonderful holiday season of socializing and gift-giving, laughter and good times, without a care in the world… then perhaps this morning’s readings will seem a little out of place or off the wall.

But, you know as well as I that the congregation here on Sunday mornings is not made up of super-duper people with perfect lives. That’s not the reason for the smiles and laughter that we share as we gather in this place. In fact, you’re not the only one here today who’s come despite the struggles, who’s come carrying heavy burdens, who’s come with pain, or disappointment, or stress, or grief beyond compare.

For one, it’s the fatigue that comes from constant caregiving and the many thankless jobs still needing to be done. For another, it’s the worry and stress caused by a difficult work situation or a boss who just doesn’t seem to understand.

Someone else is finding it hard to get up in the morning because of a chronic illness, while another is aching with loneliness through the night because of a loved one who is no longer present.

A young person is struggling to find meaning and direction in life, and one who is older is looking back with regret at missed opportunities and unfulfilled dreams. Even the one whose life seems to be going well may be feeling overwhelmed and ready to break from all the demands to serve, and help, and give for those who are in trouble.

And while one person’s relationship struggles are making her feel like her whole world is coming apart, another is feeling something similar as he considers the world in which we live with so much conflict, chaos, and destruction.

How many times have we prayed something that amounts to “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!”? We long for a resolution to our own particular issues. We long for relief from our own particular pain and struggle. We long to see a world set to right, peace and stability prevailing, justice reigning, and safety surrounding. And this is a longing that both Isaiah and his contemporaries in the post-exilic period, and the early Christian community of which Mark’s author was a member, could understand.

The reading from 3^rd Isaiah that we heard this morning was a prayer of longing. Its origin is the city of Jerusalem during the period immediately after the Babylonian exile, sometime after 537 BCE. As you probably remember, Judah and Jerusalem were conquered by the Babylonians, the temple was destroyed, and many of the people were sent to live in a foreign land.

During that troubling time, the prophets provided encouragement, and 2^nd Isaiah in particular expected a glorious return and restoration of the people, the land, and the temple. But instead, even when they got the opportunity to go home, they found themselves frustrated by innumerable hardships. And as despair increased, the returnees begged God for a miraculous resolution to their unhappy situation.

What is clear is that the people felt like God had abandoned them. They thought God must be hiding from them because all they could see around them was hopelessness, despair, and destruction. They hadn’t noticed God doing much of anything for a long time. God has hidden himself, they were saying, and that’s the reason why no one was paying much attention to God.

Haven’t we all felt something like that at times? And how difficult it can be to keep on praying, to keep on coming to church, when nothing seems to change, when there seems to be no response from God, and no sign of God’s presence or compassion?

But what is striking about this prayer of longing is that someone utters it. Someone keeps on talking to God through the darkness and doubt of God’s seeming absence. Someone keeps on crying out and begging for God’s help, while others have given up and gone their own way.

What the author of the prayer does is to look for signs of hope. Now, what he might have done was to look around at the situation and try to find something to feel optimistic about… “At least we’re not still in Babylon…” Perhaps all of these trials will make us stronger?” “Well, now that we’ve hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go from here but up!”

You see, optimism and hope are not quite the same thing. I think optimism is more like “looking on the bright side” or having a good idea that things are likely to improve. But as Patricia E. de Jong puts it, “Hope is what is left when your worst fears have been realized and you are no longer optimistic about your future.”

Those praying in Isaiah did not look AROUND THEM for a reason to be optimistic, but they looked BACK to find hope in the God who had shown himself to be faithful, compassionate, gracious, and powerful. They oriented themselves in the direction in which God was last seen, remembering God’s acts of old, and expressing faithful longing for restoration.

I wonder if that is something that we can do also. In the face of whatever troubles or challenges we face today, and even in those moments when God’s presence is not so apparent, can we access the memories of those times when the Holy One seemed so close that we could almost reach out and touch God?

Remember that early morning, up at the lake, when everyone was still in bed, but you were up watching the sunrise? You were so aware of the gift of the day ahead, of the gift of life itself, and God’s presence around you and your family.

Remember when things were bad once before, and remember the friend who came to listen and encourage you? At first you may not have noticed, but God’s presence was with you in that time – listening, caring, consoling, strengthening.

Remember when you were sure of God’s presence and God’s call on your life? You were filled with excitement and plans and dreams, and you knew that God would be with you through it all. You made promises. You committed your life to God. Remember what that felt like?

Those who prayed the prayer of longing in Isaiah’s time found hope and strength as they looked back because they could recognize God’s saving power in their lives in the past, and that gave them hope for the future as well.

The early Christians, similarly, lived in a time of war, chaos, and disorientation, and they also needed a source of hope and strength to carry on. While Isaiah’s people were struggling with the rebuilding of Jerusalem, these Christians (more than five centuries later) were living in the midst of a war with Rome. The temple was about to be destroyed yet again, and the followers of Jesus were living in fear for their lives as they navigated the new “way” that Christ had called them to live.

But instead of looking back, the early Christians were encouraged to look forward for signs of hope. Words placed in the mouth of Jesus himself acknowledged their suffering and encouraged them to hold on until Jesus’ return: “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the ‘Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”

These words in Mark’s Gospel serve to steady and comfort those who are experiencing tribulation with VISIONS that they can hold on to. The point of the speech is not to demonstrate Jesus’ predictive powers, nor to offer explicit details revealing when or how the world will end, but rather to exhort disciples to faithfulness, courage and attentiveness.

As we look forward for signs of hope, we are assured that God will act, that Christ will return, and that the world of justice and peace and security that we long for will be accomplished.

Could we just ignore the problems in our lives or in our world? Perhaps we could just look on the bright side, and try to be optimistic about things. Perhaps we could. But I appreciate the way Patricia K. Tull put it in our bible study material this week: “The more we are aware of that longing, the more it will structure our visions of tomorrow and our prayers for today. Prayers prayed with integrity will shape the way we live… May our longings for redemption structure the decisions that we make each moment of each day.”

As some come forward today to profess their faith for the first time, and as we all join in re-affirming our faith once again, may we be filled with the hope of Jesus to carry us through both the high points and the struggles of our lives. And as we celebrate Holy Communion together, may we experience that hope in the recalling of God’s gracious acts, in the foretaste of the heavenly banquet, and in the very real presence of Christ as we gather at the table of the Lord. Amen.

I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty used to all this sheep and shepherd imagery in the Bible. Granted, it’s not exactly something I have a lot of experience with – sheep, or farm animals in general. But I think I get the picture of what it’s all about.

The shepherd cares for the sheep. Makes sure they’re fed. Protects them from predators. Leads them to green pastures and beside still waters. Sometimes the shepherd even goes off to look for a lost sheep, if he’s willing to risk the rest of the flock. And that’s the kind of shepherd that God’s supposed to be – one who cares about each individual sheep and rejoices over every one that’s found.

The prophet Ezekiel is one of the Biblical writers who compares God to a shepherd who cares for, feeds, and guides the People of Israel. They’ve had a number of human leaders ruling over Israel at this point, but Ezekiel accuses these kings of being false shepherds – looking out for themselves instead of the people, ignoring the needs of the people, and allowing them to be scattered.

Ezekiel’s talking about kings that totally messed up – failing the people and letting them be conquered by foreign powers – failing so badly that some of the people have been sent into exile in Babylon. So now God will be their shepherd, the prophet tells us – the true shepherd that these human kings could not be. Ezekiel says that God will “bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land…”

God will be the shepherd of the sheep and will make them lie down. God will “seek the lost, and bring back the strayed, God will bind up the injured, and strengthen the weak. But the fat and the strong, God will destroy. God will feed them with justice.”Destroy? Feed them with justice? Uh oh! This isn’t the nice gentle shepherd God that I was expecting.

The lectionary reading for today suggests that I stop here at verse 16 and jump over to verse 20, but I keep reading anyway, and I find that this shepherd God has become a judge. Judging between fat sheep and lean sheep, between rams and goats. Some of the weaker sheep are being butted around by the stronger ones. The first ones to the pasture are eating their fill, but then trampling on the rest of the field so the others go hungry. The first ones to the stream are drinking what they want of the fresh, clean water, but then ruining the water source with their dirty feet. And the shepherd judge is angry, as well he should be.

In places like China, people know what it’s like to try to survive on what’s left after the pasture has been trampled and the water source filled with dirt. While we sit comfortably in our offices, bemoaning the fact that we haven’t been able to upgrade the computer for a few years… On the other side of the world, women and children are sifting through computer junk yards.

Discarded computers from places like Canada are piled high, and they are carefully going through the wreckage, searching for usable pieces, any metal that can be melted down to make other things, anything at all that could be valuable. The fat sheep of North America have taken what we needed, and the junk has been passed on to the thin sheep of the 2/3 world. A pile of rusty old computers to sift through, and mercury leaking into their water and food supply as a result.

If there are fat sheep and thin sheep in God’s flock, it’s pretty clear that we are the fat ones. We are the ones in danger of God’s harsh judgement. For “I will judge between sheep and sheep” says the Lord.

I’ve passed that old man so many times now – the one who sits on the ground outside the grocery store, except when it’s raining. I don’t know where he goes when it’s raining. He’s been told off by the management for offering to push people’s shopping carts back from the parking lot, and for accepting their 25cent deposit as a reward.

So now he just sits. He doesn’t even say much to the people rushing in and out of the store. His clothes are dirty and worn, and he’s rubbing his hands together to try to get the blood moving again. How did he get there? Well, he got sick and his wife left him because his mental illness was too much for her, and then he lost his job, and then he lost his house, and no one was there to take care of him and help him get well again.

Then he couldn’t get a disability cheque, because he didn’t have an address. And now, here he sits, on the damp pavement, face towards the ground, a skinny wretch of a sheep, while the fat sheep wheel their heaping carts past him to the parking lot.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.

God is our shepherd who provides for all our needs. And yet, Ezekiel’s vision shows our God with a shepherd crook in one hand and a judge’s gavel in the other.

One of my first memories of going to the movies was when we went to see “Return of the Jedi.” I think it must have been a P.D. day, because we didn’t have school, and we went to a matinee at one of the theatres downtown, only about a 20 minute walk from our house. It was an exciting adventure. Mum was taking all four of us to see the movie, and she even said we could get some popcorn to share.

I think the trouble began early on when we complained about the walk to the theatre and began to bicker about who was walking next to who. When we arrived, we picked at each other in the line for the tickets, we argued about how big the bag of popcorn should be. We fought over who sat next to mum, and poked at each other during the movie.

Although I can’t remember the details, I imagine that my little brother got the worst of my bullying, and my older sister scoffed at how annoying we all were. Even as we left the movie theatre, we could not leave each other alone, going on and on until my mother could not contain her anger any longer.

“You ungrateful wretches!” she might have cried. “Look at what I did for you. I took you out. I paid for a movie. I bought you popcorn. And all you can do is fight each other. You embarrass me – the whole lot of you! I might as well leave you all right here!”

We were stunned and horrified at this outburst. Right there on the busy sidewalk, our mother was yelling at us, judging us, accusing us. I remember crying as we followed our mother and my siblings were crying too. I felt guilty. I felt awful that I had hurt her so much, and even worse that my disgraceful behaviour had been so openly acknowledged.

When we got home, my mother made supper for us all, and then we knew that everything was okay again. We were not abandoned by my mother on the street corner, nor would she ever leave us.

God’s judgement of our actions and our inaction may make us feel just like that. Like a child standing on a street corner balling her eyes out. There’s no taking back what you did. There’s no fixing the hurt that you caused. You’re suddenly faced with the reality of your sinfulness, and there’s nowhere to hide. You’re naked before God, and God is holding up a mirror so you can see for yourself too.

But just as God makes us face up to our sin, God also provides for us in our weakness. “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David,” says the Lord, “And he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd. And I, the Lord, will be their God…” Even after God judges between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Even after God pronounces judgement upon the fat sheep that pushed and butted at the weak sheep. Even then, God is the shepherd of the whole flock.

Just like the mother who took all her children home and made supper for them. God will feed us too, and God will set up one shepherd over us, one leader in the line of King David. Not a false shepherd, but a good shepherd who will lead us in God’s way, who will show us how to live, who will protect us from the wild animals, and gather us together when we wander. Jesus is our good shepherd – our leader – our guide.

Today, on Reign of Christ Sunday, we also celebrate the fact that Christ is our King… “raised from the dead, and seated at the right hand of God in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.”

Today we celebrate the fact that Christ is our King – our leader – the one who gives us our orders – the one who shows us the way. Christ is our King. Or at least, Christ can be our king if we will let him – if we will follow him.

When our shepherd king comes, may he find us at his side and say to us… “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me… for just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Amen.

“For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” It’s a hard saying from Jesus. It’s strange, and jarring, and it seems counter to everything we know about our loving God and our compassionate Christ. “As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” This is the master’s response to the slave who received a gift, (just a small gift), and did nothing with it. He tried to hold on to it. He buried it in the ground. And after that, he wouldn’t be receiving any more gifts from the master.

It reminds me of a story that I read recently: A man went each day to his back yard and uncovered his money, which was buried in the ground. He would then put it back in the ground and cover it up again. To his shock and disappointment, on a particular day he dug up the ground only to discover his money was gone!  He began to cry out in dismay. His neighbour heard his cry and came to his aid right away. Upon discovering his plight, the neighbour dropped his head, walked away and said, “What’s all the fuss about? You weren’t using the money for any good anyway! Maybe whoever got it will use it for some good.”

The parable of the talents is an interesting one because it’s about money, but it’s also about more than money. A talent, in biblical times, was a fairly large amount of money. It was approximately how much an average labourer could earn in about a year. It was way more than most of Jesus’ listeners could imagine ever having at one time.

It was an amazing gift, and an amazing opportunity that those slaves received from their master. And they had a choice to make about what to do with it. They could take it, and guard it, and keep it until the master returned, and then give it back. Or they could risk it, invest it, use it, and possibly multiply it. They could be bold and brave and give it a try. Or they could be fearful and play it safe, and bury it in the ground.

Now, I’m pretty sure that Jesus was not trying to give his listeners financial investment advice. If that was his point, he would have been promoting some pretty high-risk investments, and I don’t think that was what he was talking about.

At this point, we could, as interpreters of the parable, stop thinking of the talents as actual money. We could switch over, as we so often do when we’re reading this parable, and start thinking of the talents as talents – the things that we’re good at, the gifts that we have been given – our abilities to sing, or dance, or do math, or give leadership, or listen, or pray.

Some of us have many talents and abilities, and others have just a few. And Jesus seems to be telling us that we should put our talents to good use. We shouldn’t hide them, or ignore them, or bury them in the ground. We are gifted for a reason, and we are meant to use our gifts for God’s glory and God’s purposes in the world.

It makes sense to me that God multiplies the gifts that we put to use. When I sing in the choir every week, my voice gets stronger, my range gets wider, and my ability to read the music and make my voice do what it says gets better. When I take up invitations to write, or to preach, or to teach, the practice helps me to improve those skills as well. And the same is likely true for you when you use your talents – whether you are baking or knitting, administering or counselling, teaching, or leading, or mending, or praying. When you use your talents, those talents are multiplied.

But just for a moment longer, let’s stay with the idea that the talents Jesus is talking about refers to actual money. And he is telling us, not to invest our money in the stock market, but to make use of it in the risky business of doing Christ’s ministry in the world.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not always sure that when I give my money to a church, or to a mission project, or to a particular ministry of the church that it’s going to work. I mean, I’m confident that the money’s going to get used for something, but sometimes I wonder if it’s going to make a difference.

Maybe I give money to support the youth group to go to a Canada Youth conference, and I wonder, “Are they going to experience God in Christ through that event? Are they going to grow in faith? Is it going to make a difference in their lives?”

Maybe I give money to the Good Food Junction store at Station 20 West, and I wonder, “Is the store going to make a difference in the core neighbourhoods? Are people going to eat more healthful foods? Are the lives of mothers and children going to be impacted for the better? Will it be a concrete expression of God’s love in a neighbourhood that is struggling?”

Maybe I give money to the ministry here at St. Andrew’s, and I wonder, “Is this church making a difference in people’s lives? Are they experiencing the presence of God in this place? Are they hearing and responding to the Gospel through the church’s ministry? Are their lives being transformed for the better as they become disciples of Jesus and members of the household of God? And how are the people, in turn, reaching out to transform the community and the world?”

Giving our money to the church’s ministry is risky business. And spending the church’s money on ministry and mission, instead of tucking it away in mountains of investments, is risky business too. Will it be multiplied in new members and more offerings? Maybe, maybe not. But I am very confident that it will be multiplied in the impact that it will have on the world.

“St. Andrew’s exists to proclaim the Gospel and share the love of God in our church and our community.”  That’s our mission statement. And both our offerings and our time and talent are needed to fulfil the mission that we have from God.

Though I do think that Jesus’ parable was about money, I also believe that it’s about more than money. At its core, the parable is about the amazing gifts that we receive from God and what we decide to do with those gifts. It’s about money, and it’s about time, and it’s about talent, and it’s about resources. It’s about life itself, received as a gift from God, and spent – despite the risks – for God’s glory and God’s purposes.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Christian church at Colossae, prayed for his Christian friends: “May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from God’s glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to God, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.”

We talk about our stewardship being a response to the gifts we have been given by God. This passage speaks of sharing the inheritance of the saints. The Greek word for inheritance used in this passage, “kleros,” is the same word that is used in the gospels for lots, as when the soldiers cast lots for Jesus’ garments.

The inheritance that we have, then, is not something that we deserve, as families sometimes believe when the will is read – “This is our due,” but rather it is like winning the lottery. It is a windfall, a gift we did nothing to deserve.

It is God who qualifies us for our inheritance, not we ourselves. This inheritance can change the future, depending on whether we hoard or spend the inheritance and whether we spend it for ourselves or for the glory of God.

I would like to end this morning by sharing a story from the author, Robert Fulghum. Fulghum was attending an institute in Greece on healing the wounds of war. The speaker was Dr. Alexander Papaderos, a doctor of philosophy, a teacher and politician.

At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out.

He turned. And made the ritual gesture: “Are there any questions?”

Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.

“No questions?” Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.

So. I asked.

“Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?”

The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.

Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.

“I will answer your question.”

Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.

And what he said went like this:

“When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.

“I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine — in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

“I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light — truth, understanding, knowledge — is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world — into the black places in the hearts of men — and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.”

And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

Let us give thanks today, for the light of Christ that God has shined into the darkness of the world and into the darkness of our lives. May our lives too, become like fragments of a mirror – not simply receiving that light for ourselves – but reflecting it in our church and in our community. May God give us the courage to use, to risk, and to multiply the gifts that we have been given. Amen.

The Session is asking everyone at St. Andrew’s to refrain from using perfumes and other fragrances on Sunday mornings. Let’s go “fragrance free” so that everyone can breathe easily as we gather together to worship God.

Recently I heard a preacher suggest that Christianity is unique in that it demands that you make a choice. You consider the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus that you read about in the Gospels, and you decide what to make of it. You decide how to respond.

At some point, you have to make a choice about what to believe about Jesus. Either he was somehow the God of the universe made physically present in our world – reaching out, loving, forgiving, and reconciling the world – or he was a crazy person – living an itinerant life of poverty and getting himself killed. We have to choose what to believe as well as how to live in response to those convictions.

The book of Joshua tells the story of the Hebrew People entering the land promised by God and settling there. It’s the story of God’s chosen people – the ones who once lived as slaves in Egypt, who cried out to God to help them, and who followed Moses out of Egypt, across the Red Sea, and through the wilderness for forty years.

These are God’s own people, who have finally been freed both from oppression and from their wandering. They finally have a home – a place where they are no longer the ones being oppressed – and they have a choice to make.

It’s not that they hadn’t made this choice before. They had chosen to cry out. They had chosen to follow. They had chosen to rely on God’s help along their journey. But perhaps those choices were simpler to make – almost as if they didn’t really have any other options. Well, some of them had tried to worship a golden calf at one point, but their foolishness was quickly revealed, and they turned again to worship the one true God, the only one who could actually help and protect them.

But now, as they made their homes in the new land of plenty, Joshua reminded them that they had a choice to make. He reminded them about what God had done for their ancestors and for them, and he called them to declare their allegiance. He challenged them to make a choice: “Choose this day whom you will serve.” And he announced his own choice too: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

I wonder if you have ever made a choice like that. Can you remember a time when you declared your faith and your intention to follow Jesus with your life?

Perhaps it was here in this church that you stood up to profess your faith for the first time or for the hundredth time. Or perhaps it was in an outdoor chapel at camp, or in the midst of a deep conversation with a friend. Maybe it was in a hospital room, or during a long walk along the river. You might remember choosing God after a period of thoughtful prayer, or you might have mad that choice in the midst of a crisis.

I wonder… did someone challenge you to make that choice? And did that person ever point out the fact that it is a choice? In other words, we actually need to choose between several options. Our faith is not just an “add on” – an extra thing that we get to do on top of all the usual things that are part of life.

When Joshua asked the people if they wanted to serve God, they said, “Yes, of course!” They remembered how God had been with their ancestors and helped them. They remembered how God had led them and guided them into the Promised Land, and they were grateful. “Yes, of course, we will serve the Lord.”

But instead of simply agreeing and congratulating them for their choice, Joshua said, “Are you sure? I’m not convinced that you can do it.” “You cannot serve the Lord, for he is a holy God,” Joshua warned them. “He is a jealous God” and “he will not forgive your transgressions or your sins. If you forsake the Lord and serve foreign gods, then he will consume you, after having done you good.”

In other words, this choice that we are asked to make is not just to come to church and worship on Sundays. It’s not just an extra thing that we devote some of our time and attention to. But it’s a choice that requires us to leave some other things behind. It requires us to stop worshipping the god of money and the god of things. It challenges us to put aside the gods of personal comfort and pleasure. We have to give up the gods of power and prestige, popularity and fashion.

The choice we are asked to make is no small thing. “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua said. You can serve the one true God of the universe who made you and who loves you. Or you can serve yourself – you can serve all those false gods that claim they will make you happy. You can’t serve both. You have to choose.

In our Christian tradition, when individuals make the decision to profess their faith and to serve and follow God, they make several vows or promises. We promise not only to serve God and to follow the way of Jesus, but we promise to turn away from hatred, selfishness, and all that is contrary to God’s ways.

It’s the same thing that the people of Israel decided to do, even when Joshua challenged their commitment. They said, “No, we will serve the Lord!” And they agreed to put away the foreign gods that were among them, and to incline their hearts to the Lord, the God of Israel. They promised to do it. They made a covenant, and vowed to live by it.

Like many of you, I made those promises once too. As a teenager, I professed my faith and I was baptized. I promised to turn away from evil and towards God. And I can’t count the number of times that I have renewed those promises in church, in my own personal prayers, during spiritual retreats, and in moments of crisis and stress.

But if I’m honest, I’ll also acknowledge that I’ve let the false gods creep into my life as well. I’ve been vain and self-serving. I’ve craved attention and recognition. I’ve let impatience, bitterness, and pride direct my interactions, and failed to demonstrate the forgiveness and love of Jesus to my neighbours.

Like a foolish bridesmaid, who was initially excited about the wedding banquet, I haven’t always followed through and fulfilled my promises. I’ve let my lamp go out. I haven’t always been there to do my part in preparing the world for the coming Reign of God.

Jesus’ parable is a warning for those who want to join in the great celebration when the Kingdom of God is made complete. Now is the time to be working towards it, to be preparing for it, to be leading others to it.

Now is the time for us to choose whom we will serve, and to do our best to follow through on those choices. Will our choices each day contribute to the building of the Kingdom? Will they help to set the table for the great celebration, or lead others through the darkness towards the great feast where there is no more hatred or war or oppression or fear?

I know… it’s a lot to ask. It’s a lot to live up to, and we are probably right if we predict that we’ll mess up again, even after we renew our promises. But although our God is a jealous god, demanding our allegiance and our faithfulness, we have seen in Jesus Christ the amazing capacity of our God to forgive. It is never too late for us to put aside those false gods and to choose to serve the one God of the universe who made us and who loves us.

Let’s begin again today to fill our lamps and to prepare for the celebration. The Reign of God is coming. It is almost here.

In many churches, including Presbyterian ones, the last Sunday in October is designated as “Reformation Sunday.” As Presbyterians, we are part of a Christian tradition or a family of churches that is called “Reformed.” And although we don’t celebrate Reformation Sunday every year, we have the opportunity on this Sunday to remember and give thanks for the Reformed tradition of which we are a part.

I suppose that a good place to start on Reformation Sunday would be with a few definitions of terms. My apologies to those of you who may have grown up in a Presbyterian Church and heard this stuff about a million times already.

First of all, there is the word “Presbyterian” – the Christian denomination of which we are a part. The word “Presbyterian” doesn’t describe our theology or our beliefs as a church, but it describes the way our church is structured and how we make decisions.

“Presbyterian” comes from a Greek word “presbyter” which means “elder.” Presbyterian churches are ruled by elders who come together in the courts of the church. These courts are called sessions at the local, congregational level, presbyteries that oversee a number of congregations and ministers in a geographic area, synods that cover larger areas, and General Assemblies for whole countries.

This Presbyterian type of church structure was a significant reformation from a structure that included rule by bishops. So significant, I suppose, that it came to be the actual name of our denomination. Whereas Pentecostals and Baptists are named for their theological emphases, Lutherans and Mennonites are named for the theological leaders who led them, and Anglicans are named for their country of origin, we Presbyterians are named for our church structure. So, if someone asks you what makes a church Presbyterian, you might say, “We are ruled by elders.”

Presbyterians do belong to a larger family of Christian denominations that are sometimes called “Reformed.” “Reformed” is a term that emerged during the time of the Protestant Reformation in Europe during the 16^th century.

Prior to the Reformation, the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church (which had divided from each other in 1054) were the major Christian bodies. In 1517, a monk named Martin Luther began a movement that questioned his own church’s position on a number of theological issues.

What Luther really wanted to do was to reform the church from within, but that didn’t work out too well. Instead, he and other Protestant Reformers ended up being separated from their church as they began new movements and churches that reflected their theological concerns and emphases. Luther’s followers, for example, eventually came to be known as Lutherans.

Other reformers agreed with Luther’s criticisms of the Roman Church, but also began to differ with him on some items of biblical interpretation. Theologians such as Huldrych Zwingli, John Calvin, and Heinrich Bullinger became leaders of this movement, which became known as the Reformed tradition. The term “Reformed” apparently came from a comment by Queen Elizabeth I in England that the followers of Zwingli and Calvin in England were more “reformed” than the Lutherans, in that they wanted a more thoroughgoing reform of worship practices based on their understanding of the bible.

The Reformation theologians made huge contributions to our church’s theology and practice that are still evident today – things like the doctrine of justification by faith alone, that there is nothing we can do to earn God’s favour. Or the emphasis on the bible being for all Christians to read, and study, and interpret for ourselves. Biblical interpretation is no longer reserved to a small group of educated clergy.

Issues like these divided the Christian Church in the 16^th century. But today many churches have found agreement on most of the issues that once divided us. We’ve all gone through reformations over the centuries. And though there are still issues that divide us, we are recognizing what we hold in common more and more.

In “Living Faith,” our Presbyterian church’s statement of Christian belief, we are reminded: “The church is in constant need of reform because of the failure and sin which mark its life in every age.”  The Roman Church in 1517 needed reform, as did the Reformed churches in 1650. And all our many and varied churches today, and indeed the Christian Church as a whole, is far from perfect and needs to be continually reformed according to the Word of God.

If there is one principle that we should remember on Reformation Sunday, it’s that God is not finished with us yet. One of the basic tenets of the Protestant Reformation was expressed in the Latin phrased “Ecclesia semper reformanda est,” meaning “the church must always be reforming.” It refers to the conviction that the church must continually re-examine itself to maintain its purity of doctrine and practice.

If, at any point in our life together as a church, we start to think and act like we have everything figured out and we’re doing everything right, that’s when we’ll be in trouble. That’s when we’ll ruin any chance of being reconciled with our Christian neighbours. That’s when we’ll get so focussed on being right that we’ll forget about being kind or loving. That’s when we’ll start to turn into the hypocrites that many people outside the church already think we are. And I think that’s what Jesus was talking about in today’s Gospel text.

I don’t think it’s that the scribes and Pharisees of Jesus’ time were so terribly awful. Most of them were probably very well-intentioned and very faithful people. It’s just that they had become over-confident in their ability to follow God’s commandments and to please God through their religious practices and rituals. They had everything figured out, and their goals were to impart their religious knowledge to others, and to hold others to account for their inability to live according to all the many rules and commandments that had become their faith. These were the teachers – the leaders in the religious community – and they were seriously lacking in humility.

I have a friend, a retired priest here in Saskatoon, who – whenever I have done something well – tells me quietly, “Stay humble.” Father Bernard has said this to me numerous times after hearing me preach, or lead worship, or speak at a workshop. And I’ve heard him say the same thing to others who have done something well.

And I’ve always interpreted “stay humble” as a subtle compliment, which it probably is. But “stay humble” is also a warning. It’s a warning to remember that everything we know, and everything we understand, and everything we can do for God is because of God’s grace and goodness and God’s Spirit at work within us. It’s a warning not to raise ourselves up above others within the church or outside of it, as if our knowledge or our background or our role in the church makes us somehow worth more than others around us.

No matter how well the Pharisees may have done at following the details of God’s laws, if they raised themselves up and lorded it over others, if they did good things only to be SEEN to be doing good things, if they did not love their neighbours as they loved themselves, then they were missing the point. And Jesus would humble them. And Jesus will humble us.

One of the things that Jesus says in today’s Gospel is that we shouldn’t call anyone “teacher” because we have only one teacher who is God. And we shouldn’t call anyone “father” because we have only one father – the one in heaven. Now, it seems to me that none of the churches follow this instruction literally. Presbyterian ministers are also called “teaching elders” to emphasize our particular call to preach and to teach within the church, and Catholic priests are often called “father” as a way of acknowledging their authority and responsibility in the community of the church.

But in fact, even the apostle Paul soon contradicted Jesus’ instruction not to call anyone “father.” In today’s reading from his letter to the Thessalonians, he refers to himself as a father to their Christian community. He writes that he “dealt with each one of [them] like a father with his children, urging and encouraging [them] and pleading that [they] lead a life worthy of God, who calls [them] into his own kingdom and glory.”

But this is not the image of an authoritarian father figure who lays down the law and demands obedience. Neither does Paul describe himself as a teacher who knows it all and makes his students suffer if they don’t measure up or understand everything right away.

I don’t think that Jesus’ point was that we shouldn’t be teachers or fathers or mothers to one another. In fact, Jesus sent out his earliest followers with instructions to preach, to teach, and to heal in his name. But when we do become teachers, the Gospel reminds us that we need to stay humble so that we can continue to learn and not turn into hypocrites.

One of the things that I am appreciating about our newest staff member here at St. Andrew’s is her desire to learn. As you know, the church has hired Laura Van Loon to serve as our Pastoral Care Nurse, and we are all learning together what this new ministry is going to look like.

Laura is a very knowledgeable and experienced registered nurse with wonderful skills and the gifts of compassion and care. (Laura: Stay humble.) But working as a Pastoral Care Nurse within a congregation is a new challenge – providing spiritual care, and integrating health and wholeness in body, mind, and spirit. And Laura is just soaking up all that she can possibly learn – in the Parish Nursing Education Program, in Bible Study, and in her work with the Pastoral Care Committee. With that kind of attitude to learning and growing in faith and knowledge, I have no doubt that God will bless her ministry among us. As Jesus said, “all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Like so many of you, I love this Presbyterian Church of ours and the reformation principles that have shaped our theology and practice. And so, on this Reformation Sunday, I pray – May God keep us humble, both as individuals and as a church, so that we may be reformed and always reforming according the Word of God. Amen.

Newcomers to St. Andrew’s are especially encouraged to attend, to hear about our church and some of the ways you can get involved in our programs and groups, as well as to get your photo taken for our photo display board.

Church Membership Classes – Begin this Sunday, Oct. 30th:
St. Andrew’s has been happy to welcome many new people into our worshipping community over the last several months. We are so glad to have you with us! Several people have been asking about how they can become members of the church, and so it is time to offer a membership class.

Participating in the class will give you the opportunity to learn about the Presbyterian Church in Canada, what we believe, and how we live out our faith together in Christian community. It will also give you an opportunity to learn about St. Andrew’s and some of the ways that you can become more involved in our church family.

You are welcome to join the class if you are thinking of becoming a member of the church, if you are already a member and want to brush up on the basics, or if you just want to explore a bit and have an opportunity to ask some questions. Everyone from grade 9 to age 99 is welcome!

The class will be on Sundays after church (12:30-2:00 pm) starting next today with a potluck lunch and continuing for three more weeks (Nov. 6th, 13th & 20th). Please phone or email the church office to let Rev. Amanda know that you would like to participate.

Psalm 90 is the only psalm in the bible that is attributed to Moses. Many of the psalms are attributed to King David, the harp-playing songwriter. Others have no attribution and their authors remain a mystery.

But the tradition is that Psalm 90 came from Moses, and it’s not hard to imagine him composing this poem near the end of his long and eventful life – near the end of his 40-year journey leading God’s people through the wilderness towards the Promised Land that God had prepared for them.

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations,” Moses’ prayer begins. A couple of generations had already gone by while Moses and the Hebrew People were wandering in the wilderness, and God had been with them along the way – providing food when they were hungry, providing water when they were thirsty, and giving direction for their lives in relationship with each other.

And even before the Exodus from Egypt, God had been their God. God had called and directed Abraham and Sarah. God had blessed and helped Isaac and Rebekah. God had raised up Jacob and guarded Joseph, and been present to hear the cries of the Hebrew People when they became enslaved by the Egyptians.

Moses’ psalm celebrates the God of wisdom and compassion who had been their dwelling place in all generations, who had existed from the beginning, and would continue forever and ever.

And then Moses acknowledges that we humans are nothing compared to this God. While God “was, and is, and is to come,” our lives are comparatively temporary. They seem fleeting… they seem so brief compared to the vastness of God. Moses talks about the fact that God “turns us back to dust,” and our lives are swept away like a dream, or like grass that fades and withers in the evening.

At the age of 118 or thereabouts, we might expect Moses to feel grateful for his long life, and pleased with all the things that he was able to accomplish. But at least in this moment, Moses doesn’t seem to be feeling very good about the end of his life that is coming.

It sounds to me like he has some doubts as to whether his life held meaning – whether his years made a difference. He writes, “The days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.”

I wonder… if, for some reason, your life were to come to an end today, would you feel like Moses did? Would you think, “Oh… it wasn’t enough time! It went by too quickly!” Would you have some regrets about how you spent your brief span of life? Would you do it differently if you could do it again?

I was talking to a friend the other day who has to write a paper for a religious studies class that she’s taking, and the topic of her paper is tombstones. And so we got talking about the meaning and significance of tombstones, cemetery markers, columbariums, and practices around scattering the ashes of our loved ones.

And during the conversation, someone brought up the dates that are normally engraved on the stone. She said, “There’s a birth date, and then there’s a death date. And those dates are obviously pretty important to the person and to their loved ones. But the only thing that really matters is the DASH.” The DASH that separates our birth date from our death date… the DASH that is our life… the days, months, and years, however many or few they may be.

“So teach us to count our days,” Moses prays, “that we may gain a wise heart.”

This weekend our congregation is saddened by the death of one of our long-time members. Ron Bremner has been an active member of St. Andrew’s since 1956 and he served as a ruling elder for the last approximately 53 years. Ron was relatively healthy and active until just a few months ago. But his health deteriorated rapidly over the last few months, and he spent the last several weeks in hospital.

In our recent conversations, it was clear that he was preparing for his death. For example, he wrote his own obituary just a few weeks ago. And he was talking about a memorial service and possible hymns to include, and that sort of thing. Not that Ron had given up on life. He was still hoping to recover. But he was preparing for what he knew would ultimately happen, whether sooner or later.

One of the things that Ron wanted to talk to me about a few weeks ago was the Session Benevolence Fund at St. Andrew’s. Ron was the treasurer for the Session Fund for over 30 years – since it was set up, I believe.

If you don’t know about the Session Fund, it’s a discretionary fund that can be used by the minister to help when members of the church or people in the community have an urgent financial need. We use it regularly to provide food for people who are hungry, and it is often a very practical expression of God’s grace and love when people are struggling with the circumstances of life.

Members of the congregation can make donations to the Session Fund at any time by designating an offering for that purpose. And I would certainly encourage you to do that because the need is great. But the time of year when we receive the most income to the Session Fund is at Christmas.

Every year (for I don’t know how many years) the entire Christmas Eve offering has been directed to the Session Fund. And every year (for I don’t know how many years) Ron Bremner, the Session Fund treasurer, has taken responsibility for receiving, counting, and depositing that offering. It has been a Christmas Eve tradition for Ron that he has always taken so seriously and done with such diligence. And Ron wanted to talk to me about the Session Fund because he wanted to make sure that someone would take up his responsibility and take care of those precious, precious offerings.

When Ron died this weekend, I couldn’t help but make the comparison in my mind to the death of Moses that we read about this morning from Deuteronomy. Both men had faithfully served God throughout their long lives. And both men likely felt like it was too soon for life to end – that there was more that they would have wanted to do, to accomplish, and to be a part of.

Moses, of course, went up on Mount Nebo just before he died, and looked out over the land. The Lord showed him “Gilead as far as Dan, all of Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, as far as the Western Sea, the Negeb, and the Plain – that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees – as far as Zoar.” God’s people would go on to inhabit that land, but Moses would not be with them. He would die on that mountain and be buried there, while the rest of God’s people would go on with the leadership of Joshua.

I wonder what that must have felt like. Was he totally devastated by that news, or did he take it in stride? Did he want to cling to life just a little bit longer so that his mission could be completed? Or was he able to let go, trusting that his mission was God’s mission, and that God would eventually make it happen.

One commentator on this psalm points out that Moses’ death before they entered the Promised Land is an important reminder. It’s a reminder that God, not Moses, would lead the people into the land. It’s a reminder that our time is not all there is to measure. God’s time is primary, and God’s time is from everlasting to everlasting.

The book of Deuteronomy eulogizes Moses with these words: “Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face. He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh… and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.”

When Moses died, the Israelites wept for him in the plains of Moab for thirty days. But then, when the period of mourning was over, they accepted the leadership of Joshua, and they continued their journey into the land promised by God.

Today, we pause to give thanks to God for the faithfulness, and love, and generosity, and wisdom that Ron brought into the world and into our church here at St. Andrew’s. And over the coming days, we will also shed some tears for Ron, and for the loss of his presence among us. But our lives together and our ministry in this place will continue with the help and direction of God.

I want to end this morning by drawing our attention to the final part of Moses’ prayer in Psalm 90. Moses writes: “Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us, and prosper for us the work of our hands – O prosper the work of our hands!”

It’s a wonderful prayer in many ways… asking God to bless us and help us in our work, asking God to make the work we do accomplish something, asking God to make our efforts worth something. I think I could pray that prayer every day in my ministry. Maybe it would remind me that the ministry is not really mine, but it belongs to God.

But remember that this prayer is attributed to Moses, perhaps written near the very end of his life, as he prepared to let go of his great mission, and to trust God to finish the job. “Prosper the work of my hands,” Moses prayed. “Let all of this work I have done for you accomplish something good for your people. Please, God, let my life’s work make a difference.”

We give thanks today that God did prosper the work of Moses’ hands as he brought the people into that good land. And we pray that God will prosper the work of Ron Bremner’s hands through the Session Benevolence Fund and so many other ministries in the church and in the community. And we pray that God will prosper the work of all our hands, today, and tomorrow, and far into the future, that we may serve God’s good purposes faithfully and continue the mission of Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Tomorrow – October 17^th – has been designated as the “International Day for the Eradication of Poverty.” And here in our city, the Saskatoon Anti-Poverty Coalition is hosting its 8^th Annual “Poverty Awareness Week,” with special events being planned throughout the week to raise consciousness about poverty in our community, as well as to encourage those who live in poverty as they continue their daily struggle.

Last year was the first time (in my almost 8 years of living in Saskatoon) that I participated in the “Hands Across the Water” event during “Poverty Awareness Week.” “Hands Across the Water” is a kind of symbolic act. People gather at the bottom of the Broadway Bridge. Then we line up, and join hands as we walk up the bridge, with the goal of being able to reach to the other side.

We come together as people of all socio-economic levels, and we join hands to combat poverty, to reach across the troubled waters that so many people experience because of poverty. We recognize that poverty is an issue that affects us all – both the West side and East side of Saskatoon – and that together we can overcome it.

They told us last year that we managed to reach further than we had ever reached before, and there was lots of rejoicing and cars honking their horns as they drove by. But I was near the front of the line, and I would say that we reached a little more than half way up the bridge. We had a long way to go! And it kind of made me feel disappointed that we couldn’t reach further.

The crowd of people looked pretty big in the park beside the bridge, but as we tried to stretch out across the bridge, I realized that the bridge was much longer than our arms could reach, and we just weren’t enough people to reach across it.

Sometimes that’s exactly how we feel in our work to combat poverty. We give and we give, and it seems like the needs around us just keep growing and growing. There are people starving because of famines in Africa, and others starving because of low incomes and rising costs right here in our city. We write cheques for Presbyterian World Service and Development, and we donate bag after bag of food for the Food Bank, and it often seems that we hardly make a dent in the problem of poverty.

I think of Jesus and his ministry among the poor. I suppose he probably interacted with a few people of means, but most of those who came to him and followed him were relatively, or even extremely, poor.

Of course, Jesus was poor as well. He gave up his livelihood to go out on the road as a preacher and healer. And there was no stable congregation of people to provide him with a stipend and housing allowance, and supplies for his ministry.

When the crowds gathered, looking for healing and help, Jesus didn’t have the resources to provide for all their physical needs. Yes, there were some miracles along the way. But there were probably also many times when Jesus and his friends, not to mention the other poor people of Galilee, went to bed with empty stomachs and no prospects for breakfast.

In his preaching, Jesus encouraged the hungry and the poor who listened to him with a vision for a world to come in which they would be filled. I’m pretty sure that Jesus was not planning to host a supper right after the sermon, but he was encouraging the people to hang on and to have hope for the Kingdom of God that was on its way. “The Kingdom of God is near,” he told them, “and when it arrives the poor will be lifted up, and the hungry will be filled, and all will be well.”

Some people probably think that having an “International Day for the Eradication of Poverty” is a waste of time. And gathering with a bunch of people at the bottom of the Broadway Bridge, and trying together to reach across it may also sound like a waste of time. And whether or not we can get enough people together to reach across the bridge, we certainly can’t eradicate poverty. It’s just not possible.

I’ve heard people quote from the bible to make this point too. They remember the day that Mary of Bethany used up a whole pound of costly perfume by pouring it on Jesus’ feet and wiping them with her hair. Whether his intentions were honorable or not, Judas made a good point when he suggested that if the perfume had been sold, it could have gone a long way to help the poor. But Jesus said, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

People read those words from Jesus, and they conclude that it’s going to be impossible to get rid of poverty. “We’ll always have the poor with us.” That’s what Jesus said. But we have to read the story of the anointing side-by-side with the proclamation of Jesus that the Kingdom of God was near. We have to read it, remembering how Jesus responded with compassion to the very real and overwhelming needs of the crowds that came to hear him. We have to remember the way he took time for them, to bless them and heal them. We have to remember the way he instructed his disciples to provide for the hungry crowds – “You give them something to eat,” he said.

Mary of Bethany made a choice that day to spend her money on perfume so that she could anoint her Lord Jesus before his death, just as Christians today spend money to build places of worship so that we can gather to praise and glorify our God in Jesus Christ. But while Judas tried to set up these priorities as opposed to one another, we are called both to worship God AND to care for the poor, the hungry, and the homeless in our community and throughout the world.

We could be out right now, gathering food for the Food Bank or planning our political advocacy strategy for the poor, or we could be sitting in a park “occupying Saskatoon.” But we are here at worship, being inspired and encouraged and challenged to keep up the work of building the Kingdom of God, including the eradication of poverty.

Lately it seems like every organization that I’m a part of is talking about having a vision and a mission. In our work at the Prairie Centre for Ecumenism, we’re talking about a vision of being One Church – One Body of Christ with many members. In our new Pastoral Care Nurse ministry, we’re talking about a vision of a church and community in which all people are healthy and whole in body, mind, and spirit, where everyone receives the care and support that they need. And just this week, our denomination – the Presbyterian Church in Canada – sent out an invitation for the people of the church to explore what our vision as a church should be… what vision God is calling us to work towards together.

The thing about visions is they’re big. They’re way beyond what we can see here and now. But they keep us moving and doing our mission because we know and trust that God will one day make those visions a reality, and we just keep moving towards them.

At times we may feel like a small group of people who gather together at the bottom of the Broadway Bridge, who join hands and walk together to reach across the water, and so far, we can only reach a little past the middle.

But God’s vision is that our group will grow, and we’ll make it all the way.

God’s vision is that poverty will be eradicated.

God’s vision is the one that Jesus came to tell us about, and to show us.
It’s a vision of the world as the very Kingdom of God, and it is near.

I did something a little unusual with the scripture readings this morning. As most of you know, we often follow the Revised Common Lectionary’s 3-year cycle of readings for Sundays. But today we had a choice of readings. (Look on the back of your bulletins… at the two sets of readings…) Today I could have chosen the readings for the 17^th Sunday after Pentecost, or I could have chosen the special readings for Thanksgiving Sunday.

But instead of choosing one set or the other, I mixed them up a little. I chose Philippians 4 from the 17^th Sunday after Pentecost, and matched it up with two of the readings for Thanksgiving – Deuteronomy 8 about being sure not to forget God when things are good, and Luke 17 about the ten lepers getting healed and the one who goes back to say thank you to Jesus.

The Deuteronomy reading makes a lot of sense for Thanksgiving Sunday. The message is: “When everything is wonderful in your life, when you’ve got everything you need, when you sit down to a wonderful meal of turkey and potatoes and vegetables and pie, surrounded by good friends and dear family, don’t forget about God…

“When the harvest is plentiful, when you move into a nice new home, when you get a promotion with a big raise, when your children get straight A’s, when you win an important award, when everything is going well in your life, don’t forget about God.”

I suppose that’s what the other nine former lepers were doing – forgetting about God. They were forgetting about Jesus – the one who had healed them and given them back their lives.

It didn’t take them long to forget, either. Just minutes before, they had been calling out to him for help in the street: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” But once they were healed, most of them just kept going. They were anxious to get on with their lives, and they forgot about God. They forgot about Jesus who had healed them and given them back their lives.

The Thanksgiving Sunday scripture texts lead us towards a simple, but important activity for today and this weekend. We are invited to pause and consider the good things in our lives, and to give thanks and praise to God. Like the one healed man who turned back, we are encouraged to praise God this morning with a loud voice, and to come before Jesus and thank him.

But the Thanksgiving texts also seem to take it for granted that we have plenty of good things in our lives for which to be thankful. The author of Deuteronomy writes: “WHEN you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses and live in them, and WHEN your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold is multiplied, and all that you have is multiplied, THEN do not exact yourself, forgetting the Lord your God…” The text seems to assume that our lives will be filled with blessings and abundance, and our one shortcoming will be that we neglect to give the glory to God by saying thank-you.

And although I wish that were the case, I happen to know that things are not so simple or straight-forward in most of our lives. Some of us won’t go home tonight to a thanksgiving table that is overflowing with food – either because money is tight, or because we don’t have a family with which to gather, or because we have to be at work, even on Thanksgiving Sunday.

Some of us won’t feel particularly thankful this weekend because of a loved one who is ill, or someone dear to us who has died. Some of us won’t join in the celebrations because we’re suffering from illness or pain ourselves. And some of us will be distracted by the troubles and stresses of our lives – by the job we just lost, by the relationship that is in need of repair, by the debts that are piling up, by the heavy demands of being a caregiver, or by the fact that we are worrying about a family member or friend who is struggling.

Yes, it’s Thanksgiving Sunday. The harvest in Saskatchewan has been great, and the weather is warm and beautiful, and we should be thankful on this special day!

But this week I felt very drawn towards the text from Philippians 4 – the text for the 17^th Sunday after Pentecost – the text that is not for a special celebration, but for ordinary time. What I really appreciated about this text was the fact that Paul is encouraging his readers to be thankful, but not necessarily because everything in their lives is going great.

And Paul knew what he was talking about. After all, Paul was in prison, facing a capital charge, when he wrote this letter. And that was not his only problem, for his responsibility for the churches was a constant concern. Even from prison he was trying to guide them, and help them, and to sort out their problems.

Moreover, the people to whom Paul was writing were unlikely to be living comfortable lives. Most of them were poor, many were slaves, and few of them would have known the meaning of security.

And to add to all the stresses and strains that would have come with being a Christian in first century Philippi, these Christians were also struggling with internal conflict. The apostle makes it clear that the disagreements between the Christian leaders – like the conflict between Euodia and Syntyche – must get worked out, and that the way to do that is for everyone to be of the same mind – the mind of Christ.

Now, we don’t know what these two Christian women were fighting about, but we can probably assume that like most conflicts, it would take a lot of patience, dedication, and time to work it out. In fact, Paul asked another person – someone that he referred to as his “loyal companion” to help them to work it out.

Very much like the conflicts that we may have experienced within church communities, this was a disagreement between two well-meaning and dedicated co-workers in the task of spreading the gospel. Paul urged these women to “be of the same mind” so that their good work could continue unhindered.

And then, from his jail cell, while he awaited potential execution, Paul wrote: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

On this Thanksgiving Sunday, and on every Sunday, and on every day of the year, Paul invites us to rejoice. Don’t rejoice because you have a nice car, or because you’re looking forward to a great dinner tonight, or because you are smart, or talented, or fortunate. Paul says, “Rejoice IN THE LORD.” Rejoice because the LORD IS NEAR.

Now, the commentators do speculate about what he meant by “The Lord is near.” Some of them think he was talking about the second coming – the idea that Christ would soon return to earth and make everything new and right and good. The Lord is near in a temporal sense because Jesus will soon be back to sort out the problems of our world once and for all. And that’s certainly a wonderful thought when things in our lives here on earth are not going as smoothly or as well as we might hope.

But I think when Paul said, “The Lord is near,” he also might have been talking about the fact that God is spacially near to us. Even when life is hard and difficult, God has not abandoned us, but God is with us through the challenges. Like Psalm 145:8 says, “The Lord is near to all who call upon him.”

Paul did not want his Christian friends at Philippi to be overwhelmed by fears and worries – about him, about the church, or about their own lives. And so he said, “Do not worry about anything.” Of course, he didn’t mean that they should just ignore their problems or stop caring about the concerns of the church or the community around them. Paul said, “Do not worry,” but I sometimes think of it more like, “WHEN you worry” here’s what you need to do.

It’s probably a bit unrealistic for Paul or for a preacher today to simply say, “Do not worry.” But we can say, “WHEN you worry, here’s what you can do. Talk to God about it. Bring your troubles to the God who is near. Pray, and ask for what you need, and remember to give thanks as well. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

And then Paul gives some final instructions. He encourages his Christian friends, in the midst of all the challenges of their lives, to THINK GOOD THOUGHTS. He says, “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

It sounds like a strategy that people use all the time to cope with the difficulties of life. Maybe your husband has died, but you’re thinking about your beautiful grandchildren. Maybe you’ve lost your job, so you’re concentrating on the many talents and skills you have as you put together your resume. Maybe you’re not as successful as you once hoped you would be, or maybe your life hasn’t turned out quite the way you dreamed it would. But you’re thinking about the good things – about the things for which you are truly thankful.

One commentary I was reading pointed out that there is nothing particularly Christian about the qualities that Paul is encouraging us to think about. They are qualities that would be admired by anyone. And the writer wondered whether Paul might have borrowed the list from popular moral philosophy, and whether he might be making a deliberate attempt to show that Christianity is not incompatible with pagan or secular culture at its best. Perhaps.

But what we can be sure of is that Paul is claiming that anything and everything that is “excellent or praiseworthy” is divine in origin.

And so today, whether our lives are filled with celebration and gladness, or whether we are coping with hardship and challenge, we are nonetheless invited to think about these things – to think about the things that are true, honourable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. And we are to give thanks and praise to God who is the source of all that is good.

Remembering that the Lord is near to hear us and to help us in all things, “Let us keep on doing the things that we have learned and received and heard and seen in [Paul, in other Christian leaders, and in Christ himself,] and the God of peace will be with us. Thanks be to God.

When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. I wonder if you have ever felt like that when you heard one of Jesus’ stories of parables. I wonder if you have ever read something in the scriptures and thought, “That was written for me!” Or if you have ever listened to a sermon, and wondered if the preacher was addressing you specifically.

Well, when the chief priests and the Pharisees heard Jesus’ parables, and when they realized that he was speaking about them, they weren’t very pleased. Though the crowds thought that Jesus was something special, the religious leaders had concluded that Jesus was a problem – telling stories that cast them in a negative role – and they wanted to arrest them.

You see, when the religious leaders of Jesus’ time heard today’s parable, they must have quickly figured out that it was an allegory. It wasn’t a story about an actual historical landowner who leased out his land to some bad tenants and had to deal with the consequences. It was an allegory – a made-up story in which the characters and plot lines represent actual people and things that are happening in the world.

Listen to the parable again, and consider… where might the religious leaders of Jesus’ day have seen themselves in Jesus’ parable?

There was a landowner who planted vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’

But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.’ So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”

It goes almost without saying that the landowner in the parable is God. God is the one who is the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, who has leant us this land – this earth – on which to live and to make our home. So who are the tenants in the parable? Who are the bad tenants who do not share the harvest, and who beat and kill the servants and then the son of the landowner?

The chief priests and the Pharisees seem to think that Jesus is talking about them – that they are the bad tenants – the wretches that Jesus’ listeners concluded should get chucked out and put to a miserable death so that the land could be leased to other tenants would will give him the produce at the harvest time.

To a group of people in positions of power, Jesus’ parable may have sounded like a subversive attempt to undermine their authority. Without confronting the religious leaders directly, Jesus is making a bold statement about these leaders and their lack of goodness and faithfulness to God. God has been sending prophet after prophet after prophet for years, and the religious establishment of Israel has been ignoring (at best) and more often persecuting these servants of God.

But there were others there that day as well. There was likely a good-sized crowd gathered to hear the well-known teacher and story-teller. Some of them were Jesus’ disciples who had been travelling with him for quite some time. Others were there hoping that this man would do some healing miracles today. They had heard that he did that kind of thing sometimes. Some of the people were probably poor and hungry, and looking for some help. And some were the kind of people that others moved away from in the crowd – tax collectors, prostitutes, and other sinners.

Everything seemed to be turned upside down with this Jesus prophet. He was sticking it to the Pharisees and priests, and he was just welcoming the outcasts and sinners. And I wonder if they too saw themselves in the parable when Jesus told it.

Of course, they would have been used to seeing themselves as the bad tenants. After all, they had ignored God’s commandments and God’s call, and they were used to religious people telling them off, or tut-tutting at them, or generally excluding them from polite society. They wouldn’t be surprised to hear someone suggest that they had messed up and that God was going to punish them for it. That was probably something that they heard on a regular basis.

I wonder though, if some of the people in the crowd that day, might have had the gift of imagining themselves as the “other tenants.” Could they picture themselves as the tenants who hadn’t messed up yet, as the ones who still had the potential to be good tenants, enjoying the good land and the vineyard, and being proud to hand over the produce at the harvest time.

Maybe the disciples thought they could be “other tenants” – receiving the prophets and messengers from God with grace and hospitality, recognizing God’s very own son, and welcoming him with joy. People like Peter and Andrew, James and John hoped that they could live up to that calling, but it proved to be very difficult just a short time later, and they too ending up rejecting God’s son – denying him and running for their lives while he was killed.

I was thinking about our other scripture text this morning from Paul’s letter to the Philippian Christians, and I tried to imagine Paul reading or hearing this parable that Jesus had once told. After all, Paul was a Pharisee once, and he was a persecutor of the very earliest Christians. As he reflected on his life, I don’t think he would have had any trouble imagining himself as one of the bad tenants. Remember that voice that he heard on the road to Damascas? “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Saul asked, “Who are you, Lord?” And the reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

But in his conversion, Saul (who became Paul) somehow discovered that having been a bad tenant would not exclude him from seeing himself in a new role in the parable. He could move from having been a bad tenant who had messed up, and done wrong, and persecuted the servants of God, and he could become an “other tenant” just starting out with the potential to be good and faithful to God. He could move from a bad tenant to a new tenant because he believed in the mercy and grace of God.

In today’s letter, we heard Paul re-iterate the emphasis on God’s grace that is found throughout Paul’s writings. “[I do not have] a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith.”

I imagine that Paul definitely could have seen himself as one of those new tenants, embarking on a new relationship with the landowner who is God, and working so hard to preach the Gospel far and wide and to produce a good harvest for God. But as I read this morning’s text from Philippians, I wondered whether Paul might have seen himself in another role in Jesus’ parable.

The usual assumption in interpreting this parable is that the slaves of the landowner are the prophets that God sent to the people of Israel, and the son of the landowner is Jesus, the son of God, who is rejected and killed by the bad tenants. But if we, as followers of Jesus, are supposed to become members of the body of Christ… if we are supposed to act as his hands and his feet and his voice in the world, following his ways, engaging in his mission, and doing his work in the world… then perhaps we might see ourselves in a different role.

I have a feeling that the apostle Paul wouldn’t have seen himself as a tenant at all. He would have placed himself in the role of a slave of the landowner, or even as one of the landowner’s very own children.

Paul wrote: “Whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him… I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

Paul believed that his faith called him to much more than simply being a good tenant, simply receiving God and God’s servants and trying to be good and faithful. Paul believed that his faith called him to the risk-taking, self-giving way of Jesus – bringing the message of judgment and grace to God’s people, and enduring the rejection and suffering that so often comes along with that mission.

This morning I invite you to reflect on your own relationship with God. And I invite you to think about where you see yourself in Jesus’ parable today. Where you see yourself today may not be where you were yesterday, and you may be in a different place tomorrow. There is no right or wrong answer to the question.

As we gather around the Communion table this morning, we will remember Jesus’ death – the beloved son of the landowner who was rejected and killed. We will remember his sacrifice – his self-giving love – for us, whether we are bad tenants in need of his amazing grace, or whether we are new tenants who are striving with God’s help to live more faithful and righteous lives.

But as we receive the gift of this holy meal, we must also recognize ourselves as servants of the landowner and as daughters and sons who are called to be ambassadors for God – often walking into dangerous and volatile situations and accepting the risks that come with that.

Even as we receive the gift of Christ’s sacrifice for us, we are simultaneously called to become what we receive – to become Christ’s body in the world – to become the ones who are ready and willing to go where God sends us, and to give ourselves for others and for God’s loving purposes in the world. Amen.

The Christian Education Committee at St. Andrew’s is encouraging everyone to participate in the “Gems of Encouragement” program. Take some time to consider how you can be an encouragement to someone in your life this week.

You may feel called to say something or do something encouraging for a member of your family, for a colleague at work, for a friend at school, for a stranger that you meet, or for a sister or brother in Christ. Every time you say or do something encouraging, you are invited to place a gem stone in the glass jar at the front of the church. If you do many acts of encouragement during the week, keep track of them and place that number of gem stones in the glass jar when you come to church on Sunday.

We hope to fill up the glass jar with “Gems of Encouragement” by Thanksgiving Sunday (Oct. 9th). And then we’ll have a little contest to guess how many acts of encouragement have been completed.

“FIRE is the rapid oxidation of a material in the chemical process of combustion, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products.” I looked that up on Wikipedia, where it also says this about FIRE: “Fire in its most common form can result in conflagration, which has the potential to cause physical damage through burning.” That is, unless we’re talking about Moses’ burning bush where the bush was miraculously burning and burning, but not being consumed.

As you may have guessed by now, FIRE is the topic of my sermon this morning, just as FIRE was the theme of our Saskatchewan Presbyterian Youth event here this weekend. When we titled the weekend “Fire’s Burning, Draw Nearer,” we hoped that youth from across the province would come together this weekend – drawing near to one another (making new friends and renewing old friendships) and that they would draw near to God as well through worship, study, discussion, prayer, and music. With participants from Regina, Prince Albert, and Saskatoon, I think I can speak for the group when I say that we’ve had a wonderful time together.

Now, when I say that we’ve had a wonderful time together, I don’t mean to say that everything about the weekend went smoothly or as planned. For example, I was really excited about the idea that we were going to have a campfire on Friday night to get the theme of the weekend started. I brought a portable fireplace, matches, newspaper, kindling, and some wood, and some of the guys helped me to set it up in the parking lot.

Then we went back inside the church for a few opening activities. And while we were inside, it rained a little. Not too much, mind you. And it stopped raining in time for our fire, so we went out and got it lit. Well, we’d hardly begun to sing “Fire’s burning” when it started to rain again, sprinkling at first, but then harder and harder until we were all soaked. It was a pretty short campfire.

On Saturday we had more issues with fire… Well, not exactly fire, but smoke. I was upstairs doing something else before dinner when the fire alarms started to sound. No, the kitchen crew hadn’t set the church on fire (at least, not literally on fire) but some cheese from Laurie’s delicious lasagne had dripped onto the aluminum tray at the bottom of the oven and caused enough smoke to trigger the smoke detector just outside the kitchen. It took us a few minutes to get it sorted out, to turn off the alarm and make sure that the security company hadn’t already sent us a fire truck.

I guess when it comes to fire, things can be unpredictable. When we try to set fires, they don’t always take off as we would hope. And sometimes, when we just want to avoid a fire, fire seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps that is why FIRE can be so fascinating. Because as much as we need fire  and we use fire for so many things like heating our homes and running our cars and cooking our dinner, FIRE still remains somewhat beyond our control – an unpredictable power that brings with it danger and risk.

And what we discovered here this weekend as we studied the scriptures together is that God is very much like fire. FIRE is a metaphor that is used over and over again throughout the bible to describe God’s activity in our lives. Let me give you a few examples starting with Moses and the burning bush.

Have you ever wondered about that story? What’s with the bush that’s burning, but not getting burned up? Moses is up on a mountain looking after the sheep, and God appears to him in a flame of fire out of a bush. Moses looks, and the bush is blazing, but not consumed. And Moses says, “Huh? That’s kind of weird! I totally have to stop and have a look at this burning bush! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

And the point is that God has gotten his attention. Moses would probably have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his life looking after sheep and staying out of politics and religion. But God had plans for Moses to lead the Hebrew People out of slavery in Egypt and into the Promised Land, and God needed to get Moses’ attention so God could tell him about the plan.

Even without the drama of an ever-burning bush, God is still working on getting our attention so that we too can hear God’s voice and make the decision to co-operate in God’s plan for us and for the world. I invite you to think right now about the ways that God has gotten your attention when God had something to say to you. Was it through a dream or a vision like Moses experienced? Or was it through the beauty of creation, or through the scriptures, or through a negative or a positive experience, or through the voice of a friend or a stranger? I wonder… how might God be trying to get our attention today? And are we ready to turn towards God and listen for what God might be telling us?

Once God had Moses’ attention, God spoke to Moses and Moses listened, and God gave him a rather big and important job. Unfortunately, Moses didn’t feel very worthy of the task. He responded, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” Most of the callings that we receive aren’t quite as big or daunting as the one that Moses received from God. Our callings may include things like spending the weekend sleeping in a church with a bunch of Presbyterian youth (like our chaperones did this weekend) or our calling may be to become an elder in the church (like Leslie and Laura and Elizabeth did last Sunday).

Our callings may include caring for people who are in need in our family or in our community – giving significant amounts of time and attention to ensure the safety of a family member, or perhaps even a stranger that comes across our path. Our callings may include taking on leadership roles in our workplaces or community organizations, and speaking up for justice and kindness towards those who are suffering.

When we receive our callings, we may feel very much like Moses did – unsure, hesitant, or even sceptical as to whether we’ll be able to handle it or not. And it’s a logical feeling because none of us are actually worthy of the missions that God sends us out on. We wouldn’t actually be able to accomplish them alone. But God tells us, as God told Moses, “I will be with you.”

Not only is God with us on the missions that we are given, but God is continually working on us. In the text that was read from the prophet Malachi this morning, we heard about God’s fiery activity in our lives. The prophet tells us that the Lord “is like a refiner’s fire… he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.”

We include a prayer of confession in our worship every week because we know that as humans we are unable to live up to God’s high standards or to follow God’s commandments perfectly. Even the commandment to love one another that is so simple to say, is not so simple to put into practice in all our relationships.

But God’s fire is not just about getting our attention, it’s also a refiner’s fire that is purifying our lives and helping us to become more and more like Christ. You know how a refiner’s fire works, right? It burns at such a high temperature that the impurities in the gold or silver are removed so that they become more and more purely gold or silver.

We often talk about how God accepts us “just as we are” and I certainly believe that. But that acceptance doesn’t mean that God wants us to stay “just as we are.” When we become followers of Jesus, God takes us as we are. But then, like a refiner’s fire, God works on us – judging us, correcting us, purifying our lives, and shaping us into the image of Christ.

God promised to be with Moses on his mission and on the long journey with the Israelites through the wilderness and into the Promised Land. Along the way, God led them with a pillar of cloud in the day and a pillar of fire in the night… and eventually, the one who was so unworthy managed to accomplish God’s plan because God was with him.

Our Christian faith invites us to remember that God is still acting like that pillar of fire in our lives – that we can look to God for guidance and direction… for help to make important decisions in our lives, and for assurance to know that we are never alone as we face the difficulties and trials of life.

In our final scripture text this morning, we heard about the fire of God’s Spirit on the first Pentecost after Jesus’ death and resurrection. Once again, God is acting like fire in this story. But the fire is neither to get our attention, to refine our lives, or to simply lead us through the difficulties of life. In this important account of the birth of the Christian Church, the Spirit of God is poured out on the disciples of Jesus and a tongue of fire rests on each one of them.

And the fire doesn’t just grab their attention or identify them as Christians. The fire in this case, is sending them out into the streets to preach the Gospel and tell the good news about Jesus Christ to all the people of the world in all the languages of the world. Like people rushing out of a burning building, the disciples get themselves out – but not because they are afraid of the flames, but because the Spirit of God has inspired them, and filled them, and equipped them to get out and share their faith.

That same fiery Spirit is flashing through the lives of God’s people today also. Once God has gotten our attention and begun the work of purifying our lives, then before we know it (and often before we feel very ready) the Spirit is sending is out to participate in God’s mission in the world.

Just like Moses was pretty scared to stand too close when God spoke to him from the burning bush, we may feel pretty tentative about drawing near to the fire of God. But hopefully, like him, we can have enough courage to stay close, to take off our shoes, and to recognize that we are standing on holy ground in the very presence of God. And no matter how unworthy we may think ourselves to be, and no matter how big and challenging the mission God has for us may be, God will be with us like FIRE – catching our attention, leading us on our journey, judging us, correcting us, and purifying our lives. God will be with us like FIRE – inspiring us, equipping us, and filling us with a passion for God’s purposes.

The fire of God is burning. Let us draw nearer. Amen.

• The session received many responses to the “Worship Time Survey” that was originally circulated in the May newsletter. Thank you for giving us your input on this important decision. Please know that we took all of your comments, needs, and preferences seriously as we made this decision. Worship at St. Andrew’s will continue to be at 11:00 am, and in future years we will not change the time during the summer months. It will be at 11:00 am year-round.

This morning’s “Gems of Encouragement” theme comes from the Christian Education Committee, with special thanks to Mary Jane Hanson for the idea and for taking care of many of the details. The committee decided that a focus on the spiritual gift of “encouragement” would be a wonderful way to start another educational year, as well as a good way to build up supportive relationships between the people in our church community.

But when we first talked about doing this encouragement theme in September, I didn’t realize how many things would be coming together on this day. We are beginning a new year in the Church School, and we have a number of new teachers coming on board. We are ordaining three new elders who will join our session and serve in the leadership of our church. And we are announcing that we have hired a Pastoral Care Nurse for the congregation for the very first time.

And simultaneous with all of these joyful and exciting beginnings, we are aware of the fact that today is the 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States. In so many ways, “encouragement” seems like the right thing for us to be doing today.

And so, setting aside the lectionary readings for today, I selected the passage from the book of Hebrews that Logan read for us this morning. I thought that the final verses (24-25) – originally written (or perhaps preached) to one of the earliest Christian churches – went perfectly with the focus that the CE Committee was suggesting. After all, the Committee has placed a glass jar at the front of the church and provided some lovely coloured stones. And they are asking you to do all that you can over the next three weeks to be encouraging to one another and to the people you encounter.

The text says: “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Do you feel provoked?

That’s a pretty strong word, isn’t it? – provoked. The original Greek word in the text is paroxysmos which can be translated as “provoke” or “irritate” or perhaps “pester.” It sounds really annoying actually. The kind of thing that might keep a lot of people away from church… the idea that there are people here, or sermons preached here that don’t necessarily inspire or encourage, but they just keep pestering you to be good and generous and kind all the time.

The word “provoke” can definitely have a negative sense, but the Greek word used here also had a positive use, in the sense of disturbing the apathetic or fearful person into activity. Its purpose is to produce love and good works. And so the expression is strong, but necessary, for a community earlier characterized in the book of Hebrews as inattentive, neglectful, and drifting.

Now, please don’t take that to mean that I’m suggesting that the people of St. Andrew’s are inattentive, neglectful, or drifting. In fact, when people ask me about this church, I usually describe you as gifted, engaged, committed, and generous people. But I’m pretty sure that the earliest Christian churches to whom this text was written probably shared those characteristics as well.

Still, the preacher hints that “some” members of the community are neglecting or abandoning the assembly – the gathering for worship, and acts of mutual support. And it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that’s happening in our church too.

Although the reason for this desertion is not stated, later chapters will suggest possibilities: fear of persecution, heresy, feeling the group is not essential to personal faith, leadership tensions, and discouragement over the fact that Christ has not yet returned.

There is a little video getting passed around online recently about something called “Back to Church Sunday.” A friend posted it on my facebook page earlier this week, and I liked it enough that I re-posted it on the Presbyterian Church in Canada facebook page, sparking a significant online discussion about the video and its potential impact.

The video was produced by the National Council of Churches in the US to promote a cross-denominational initiative to invite people “back to church” on Sunday, September 18^th.  The video begins: “Here’s a few reasons why people don’t go to church…” And then it gives some reasons, some questions, some concerns, followed by responses and reassurances from regular people who do go to church and can share about the experience.

With a little humour and a lot of humility and hospitality, it invites those who may have become alienated from the church to consider coming back, and giving it a try. The video concludes with these words:

“You see, it’s not about a religion. It’s about a relationship.
So please, come to my church…
where nobody’s perfect, where beginners are welcome,
where socks are optional, but grace is required…
where forgiveness is offered, where hope is alive…
and where it’s okay to NOT be okay… really.”

When I look back at this morning’s text, I notice that before the preacher starts admonishing the members of the Christian community to meet together, and to care for each other, and to provoke one another to love and good deeds… First, the preacher names the one big barrier that may be holding them back. She identifies the misunderstanding that may be stopping these would-be followers of Jesus from taking up the faith and living it out in their lives within the Christian community. And it has to do with fear.

I know, there’s some old language in the Bible and in the church’s prayers that suggests that “fear of God” is appropriate. It’s the idea that God is so far beyond our understanding, so perfect, and so powerful, that we have good reason to be afraid.

Some of the people in the “Back to Church Sunday” video said, “I can’t come to church until I get my life together,” or “If you knew me… and what I’ve done… you wouldn’t want me.” Their fear was holding them back, creating a barrier that kept them away from the church, and the Christian community, and from a relationship with God. And I’m quite sure that that kind of “fear of God” is not particularly helpful.

But the author of Hebrews encourages us, “my friends… we have confidence to enter the sanctuary [we have confidence to come into the presence of God] by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain…” In other words, we have no reason to fear. We have no reason to hold back or be uncertain. We can have confidence to approach God, knowing that in Jesus Christ, God has already reached out to us in love, and forgiven our sins, and prepared us for lives of love and good deeds.

We may be in awe of God’s goodness, and holiness, and power… but we have no reason to be afraid. We have no reason to fear because we belong to God. In fact, the preacher continues: “let us approach [God] with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water,” and I’m pretty sure that she’s talking about baptism. She’s reminding these Christians – some of whom are lagging in their commitment to the mission of the church, some of whom have drifted away – She’s reminding them about their baptism. And their baptism (like ours) is the basis for all they are being called to do and to be within the church and the world.

As we remember our baptism, we remember that we are members of the household of God. As we remember our baptism, we remember that we are washed clean of sin – forgiven, and renewed in God’s love. As we remember our baptism, we remember that we have died and been raised again with Christ. And as we remember our baptism, hopefully we remember that our baptism calls us to live a new life in Christ. It calls us – maybe even provokes us – to love and good deeds within the church and the world. And with the power and help of the Holy Spirit inside us, we have no reason to be afraid.

On the 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, we may be especially aware of the fear that grips so many people in our world. We might remember those who are grieving the loss of loved ones who died on that terrible day. And we might think also of others throughout the world who are suffering from famine, disease, persecution, discrimination, or abuse.

As we remember and pray for both friends and strangers who are struggling today, let us take this opportunity to recommit ourselves to living out our baptisms. There are three members of our congregation who are coming forward today, responding to the call to live out their baptisms through the ministry of ruling eldership. But we all have gifts to use within the body of Christ, and we are called not only to meet together, but to provoke one another to love and good deeds, and to encourage one another each and every day. Amen.

When Jesus walked through the towns and villages of Galilee, he taught and healed and helped the people that he met. And he had a consistent message wherever he went: “Repent,” he said to all the people, “because the Kingdom of God has come near.” And when Paul took up Jesus’ mission, he said pretty much the same thing.

In today’s passage from Romans, Paul uses the metaphor of night and day. He points out how much changed when Jesus came into the world like a light shining into the darkness. The change that has come upon the world was as swift and as unstoppable as the sun rising in the morning. And the Christians have got to realize that the night is over, and “wake up!”

Paul describes this time that we live in as that wonderful time when the darkness of night has dissipated, and the day is near. It’s the in-between time… between the dark night before Christ, and the full brightness of the kingdom of God. And it’s time, Paul says, for Christians to start living like it’s day time, like the kingdom of God is here.

“Let us live honourably as in the day,” Paul writes, “not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy.” This short list of sins is meant to be suggestive, not exhaustive. But notice that the sins he mentions are primarily night time behaviours in the literal sense that they normally happen after dark, and in the metaphorical sense that they belong with the old age rather than with the new day that is dawning in Christ.

“Quarreling and jealousy” seem to be the exceptions on the list – the sins that don’t seem to go along with the others. One commentator notes that there are many churches where the first four sins on Paul’s list are unheard of, but the last two run riot. Underneath the show of politeness and even friendliness, there are all kinds of conflicts and disagreements and negative feelings that rarely come out into the light of day.

I get the impression that church communities (perhaps all kinds of communities) have always struggled with conflicts and quarrels like these. In other words, we don’t have to feel bad about ourselves when we realize that our churches are not models of perfect unity and peace. But we do need to face up to that fact, recognize that it is something that must change, and then commit ourselves to the difficult work of working through the conflicts and disagreements rather than letting them go unresolved.

Like Jesus before him, Paul explains that the long list of commandments can be summed up in the one instruction to “Love your neighbour as yourself.” And when we love one another we have fulfilled the law.

Of course it’s easy to SAY that as Christians we will love another. But it’s quite a bit harder to actually DO the loving – especially when we’re in the midst of a conflict. Especially when we are sure that we are right and someone else is wrong. Especially when we are feeling hurt, or taken advantage of, or unjustly accused. That’s when loving one another can get to be extremely difficult.

In the NRSV translation, this morning’s text begins with these words: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” And we might assume that it’s an instruction not to get into debt. But the NIV translates it differently. The NIV says: “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another.” In this context, Paul seems to be saying that the command to LOVE is a debt owed to everyone – a debt that can never be discharged.

And so when it comes to living together in Christian community, it seems that there is nothing that a person can say, or do, or fail to say or do, that can free us from our Christian responsibility to treat them with love. That’s a hard teaching, I know, but I’m pretty sure that’s what Paul is suggesting.

And the Gospel text this morning backs it up. Here we have a very practical text about what to do when another member of the church sins against you. If someone does something or says something that hurts you, embarrasses you, or offends you in some way, Jesus doesn’t say that you should just ignore it, put up with it, and be kind in return. No, Jesus is clear that when a problem arises in a relationship in the church, we need to go and work it out.

And the purpose of going to the person and talking to them about it is not to get justice for yourself. It’s not to make sure that they feel bad about what they’ve done. But it’s for the sake of repairing the relationship – for the sake of reconciliation.

It’s interesting to notice where this text appears in the Gospel of Matthew. Just before it, we have the parable of the lost sheep: “If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray.”

And just after this morning’s text, we have Peter asking Jesus about forgiveness. Peter asks, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” And Jesus says to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven times.” That’s how often you need to forgive your brother or sister who sins against you.

This morning’s text seems to be clear. If someone sins against you, you must go to them and point out the fault. If the person listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, you must take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses – so that two or three together may convince the one who has done wrong to admit the error of her ways. But if the person will not listen to them, and then you tell it to the church, and still he will not listen, Jesus says, “let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”

“What does he mean by that?” I wonder. Well, in the bible, the word Gentiles refers to people who are not Jewish. Gentiles couldn’t trace their ancestry back to Abraham’s son Isaac. Gentiles didn’t follow all the laws that God gave through Moses. And many Jews in Jesus’ time did not trust Gentiles. Some Jews even hated Gentiles. They were different. They were outsiders.

Tax collectors in the area where Jesus lived usually were Jewish. However, they worked for the Roman Empire, whose leaders were Gentiles. The tax collectors had permission to collect more money than taxpayers actually owed. They kept the extra as their salary. Some tax collectors mad huge profits, and that made their neighbours pretty angry and bitter. Tax collectors wouldn’t have had a lot of friends among the Jews.

So it sounds like after three attempts to bring the offender back into the community, Jesus is saying we’re allowed to give up. If the person just won’t listen, you can treat her like a Gentile or a tax collector. You can avoid him, or mistrust her, or treat him like an outsider.

Three attempts is pretty generous, we might think. Except if we remember the shepherd who goes searching high and low for the sheep who has gone astray until he finds him… except if we remember Jesus’ answer to Peter about how many times we should forgive – seventy times seven times – that’s a lot more than three!

Jesus says that after the third attempt, we should treat the one who has offended us as we would treat a Gentile or a tax collector. But maybe he doesn’t mean that we should treat them as the average first-century Jewish person treated a Gentile or a tax collector. Maybe he means that we should treat them as he (Jesus) treated a Gentile or a tax collector!

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” [Later that day], as Jesus sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” [But] when Jesus heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick… I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

I don’t know about you, but I find this kind of teaching pretty difficult. It seems nice in theory, but when it comes to a real person in my life that I have experienced as rude or unkind or unreasonable, it gets really hard to carry it through – to keep on trying to mend the relationship, to keep on working to forgive, to keep on attempting to be more than just polite, and to actually show love for someone who has hurt me. It takes a lot of courage and a lot of humility, and I know that I don’t always do very well at it.

And a part of me is sometimes arguing in my head, “If I don’t genuinely FEEL any love for that person, I shouldn’t just pretend to respect and love him.” Unfortunately, Paul disagrees. Paul says that the command to LOVE is a debt owed to everyone – a debt that can never be discharged, no matter how we might feel about the person standing in front of us.

“But here is the strange thing,” one commentator writes, “if you try to treat someone you thoroughly dislike as though in fact you cared very deeply for them – if you try to think of how it is to live inside their skin and walk in their shoes – then it may well happen that a genuine sympathy arises, and from that real affection, and finally an unhypocritical love. This is, after all, more or less what Paul is commending in our text today. The love of which Paul speaks is tough in the sense that since it doesn’t spring from the emotions but from the will, love will grit its teeth and act as if the emotions were in place, trusting that they will follow in good time.”

As difficult a teaching as this can be, sometimes it helps me to know that there are likely others in the Christian community who are working hard to love me also, despite the ways that I may have failed them or hurt them in the past or the present. And it also helps to know that God loves me, and God loves each and every one of us in that way. God does not love us because we have been so faithful and good and loving towards one another. But God loves us simply because we ARE, and simply because we belong to God. And when we fail or get lost in our mission to love one another in this Christian community, God goes searching for us high and low – like the one lost sheep that cannot be left behind. And God forgives us and draws us back into relationship not once, not three times, not seven times, but seventy times seventy times, or as many times as it takes.

1. Worship Schedule:

• Worship at 11 a.m. – beginning on Sunday, Sept. 4th
• “Gems of Encouragement” – Sunday, Sept. 11th Worship at 11 a.m.
• World Communion Sunday – Sunday, Oct. 2nd at 11 a.m.

2. Special Events:

• Church School Teaching Training – Sunday, Sept. 4th after worship
• Women’s Camp at Camp Christopher – Sept. 9-11th
• Saskatchewan Presbyterian Youth (SPY) Weekend at St. Andrew’s – Sept. 16-18th
• Operation Sandwiches – Make sandwiches for the Saskatoon Native Circle Ministry – Sunday, Sept. 18th & 25th after worship

3. Programs & Groups:

• First Choir Practice – Thursday, Sept. 8th at 7:30 p.m.
• Prayer Group – Friday, Sept. 9th & 23rd at 11 a.m.
• Thursday Group – Thursday, Sept. 15th at 1:30 p.m. with guest speaker Brian Graham on Tuberculosis treatment in SK
• Church School Classes Begin – Sunday, Sept. 18th
• Hildur Hermanson Women’s Missionary Society – Monday, Sept. 19th at 7:30 p.m.
• Kids’ Club Begins – Friday, Sept. 23rd & 30th at 7:15 p.m.
• Women’s Breakfast at Mulberry’s – Saturday, Sept. 24th at 8:30 a.m.
• Sunday Morning Bible Study Begins – Sunday, Sept. 25th at 9:30 a.m.
• Youth Group Begins – Sunday, Sept. 25th at 7 p.m.
• Women’s League – Wednesday, Sept. 28th at 10:30 a.m.

Committee Meetings:

• Worship Committee – Wednesday, Aug. 31st  & Sept. 28th at 7:30 p.m.
• Session Meeting – Tuesday, Sept. 6th at 7:30 p.m.
• Board of Managers – Tuesday, Sept. 13th at 7 p.m.
• Stewardship Committee – Wednesday, Sept. 14th at 7:30 p.m.
• Presbytery Meeting at St. Paul’s, Prince Albert – Friday, Sept. 16th at 10 a.m.
• Christian Education Committee – Tuesday, Sept. 20th at 7 p.m.
• Outreach Committee – Wednesday, Sept. 21st at 7 p.m.

As I told the children this morning, today’s text from the Gospel of Matthew reminded me of the difficult reality that our faith in God and in Jesus Christ our Lord calls us not only to good things, but to hard things.

When Christian churches are reaching out, inviting new people into the family of God, that isn’t normally a big part of the message. We’ve all seen the messages that churches try to put out there in the community at large – on our church signs, on our websites, on the flyers that are dropped in mail boxes. They say, “Everyone is welcome!” They say, “Come and experience new life in Christ!” They say, “Come and worship with friendly Presbyterians.”

I’ve absolutely never seen any church advertising that said: “You’re most welcome to come and suffer with us!” I’m sure that I would have remembered a message like that. And I might have wondered if they were talking about suffering through the Sunday sermons! No, when we tell others about our church, when we tell others about our faith, we tend to focus on the positives – on the good things that we have experienced in the community of faith and on the journey with Jesus.

We talk about the encouragement and hope that we gain from the scriptures and from the spiritual songs and hymns that we sing. We talk about the support that we experience from our sisters and brothers in the church community, and the sense of meaning and purpose that we have in offering our time, talents, and gifts in serving one another and the world. Perhaps we talk about the freedom that comes from the assurance of God’s forgiveness when we fail in doing what is right, or even the gift of the Spirit in our lives that empowers us to do better and to love more and more each day.

If we consider not just the last day, or the last week, or the summer that is almost over… but if we consider our whole journey of faith, there may be many good things that we could remember and name as good things – good things that we have experienced as a result of our decision to follow the way of Jesus.

But we know that’s not the whole story. We can’t put the whole story on the sign outside the church or squeeze it onto a card small enough to put through somebody’s mail slot. Some might challenge that it’s a kind of “bait and switch” that we’re doing – telling about the good things, and neglecting to mention the hard things that come right along with them.

Jesus did something similar, of course. I’m not suggesting that he tricked the fishermen and the tax collectors and the women into following him throughout the countryside. But he didn’t exactly reveal all the details about what the journey was going to entail. Jesus said, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him.

Jesus taught them about God’s blessing, and he taught them about how to live and love in God’s ways. He taught them to pray, and encouraged them not to worry. He taught them the Golden Rule (do to others as you would have them do to you) and he explained that hearing his teachings wasn’t good enough – they had to become “doers of the Word” – living out their faith in action.

Jesus was not all talk, either. He put his words into action as he cleansed a leper, healed a Centurion’s servant, and then cured Peter’s mother-in-law who was suffering from a fever. That’s when the crowds really started to come. The people were hearing about all the good things that happened when Jesus was around, and they wanted to be a part of that joy and gladness and hope. And that’s when we hear the first hint from Jesus that living his way is not going to be all sunshine and rainbows.

Well, to be honest, those who listened carefully to his sermon on the mount might have caught the references to loving our enemies and doing good to those who harm us. But by the end of the sermons and after the healings, most would have gone home remembering the blessings, and the restoration, and the promise of Jesus: “how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”

But at the middle of Matthew 8, Jesus is starting to tell a little more about what following him will involve. A scribe approaches him and says, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus says to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” And from that point on, Jesus begins to open up more and more about the hard things that the disciples are choosing as they choose to continue on his way.

This journey is going to be hard work, he tells them – “the harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few” – and he sends them out to proclaim his message and to do his work. He warns them about persecutions that will undoubtedly come, and explains that many people will reject them and the message they bring. Jesus himself is rejected in his home town, and soon after John the Baptist is killed. Jesus continues to astound the people with miracles and healings, but not everyone appreciates his perspectives and the religious leaders are beginning to plot against him.

Peter is a rock through all of this, of course. Early in chapter 16, Jesus has a private chat with his closest friends. He asks them what people are saying about him. He’s sort of checking in to see how things are going in his ministry. And while the general public seems to have a wide variety of ideas about Jesus being some kind of prophet, Peter, at least, is ready to profess his faith: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” he says.

And “from that time on,” this morning’s text begins, “Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”

Perhaps Jesus thought that after such a confident declaration of faith from Peter that maybe the disciples were ready to start learning about the really hard things. Peter’s rebuke makes us wonder if Jesus may have started a little too soon. But maybe it doesn’t really matter when the hard things rear their ugly heads – they’re always going to be difficult to face, and to accept.

Now, when Jesus talked about hard things – when he talked about suffering – he wasn’t talking about the suffering caused by a hemorrhage that had plagued one woman he met for 12 years. He wasn’t talking about the suffering of two blind men who had to sit and beg in the street because they had no way of earning a living. Jesus had compassion for those who suffered from illness or injury or poverty or social rejection.

But when he spoke about the suffering that he himself would experience, and when he spoke about the suffering that his followers would share, it was a kind of suffering that was a direct result of their ministry. It was a kind of suffering that they were going to choose. Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Someone commented on Christians wearing crosses or crucifixes on necklaces, asking “Why would you want to hang a cross around your neck? It was an instrument of torture and death! It’s like hanging a little electric chair on a chain!”

Christians, at times, may have a tendency to forget that a cross is more than a pretty piece of jewellery. We may lose sight of the fact that a cross was a cruel and torturous way to have a person executed. And Jesus tells us that being one of his followers means “taking up our cross.” It means making a conscious choice to accept the hard things that will come our way as a result of our faith and ministry.

Though many of Jesus’ first disciples would indeed end up hanging on crosses, or suffering some other form of execution, most disciples today will be spared such persecution. But the way of Jesus will undoubtedly lead us into many hard things.

We’ll have to struggle with Jesus’ teachings and what his life and death means for our lives. We’ll have to figure out what to believe, and sometimes learn to be content not knowing all the answers.

We’ll have to learn to live together – growing in love for our neighbours, learning to welcome the strangers, forgiving one another, and staying faithful even when we have different ideas or priorities or perspectives.

We’ll be challenged to give of ourselves – to give our time, to give our effort, to give our gifts. We’ll be challenged to give until it hurts, and then to give a little more.

And perhaps the hardest thing of all… Jesus will call us to lose our lives for his sake.

Maybe we’ll begin by giving up half an hour to make sandwiches for people who are hungry. And then we’ll set aside one day a month, or even one day a week to volunteer at the Native Ministry.

Perhaps we’ll begin by making a small offering to the church on those weeks when we make it to worship. And then we’ll make it more regular, and add gifts for special appeals, and maybe even start to consider giving a percentage of our income.

Maybe we’ll begin by knitting a prayer shawl or making a friendly visit to a person who is lonely or sick or grieving. And then we’ll knit some more, and remember to pray more often. We’ll start noticing when someone nearby has a need, and we’ll visit some more and learn how to listen and to show care more and more – making it a part of our daily lives.

Perhaps we’ll begin by listening carefully to a sermon or two, or by cracking the spine on an old copy of the Bible. We’ll start taking every opportunity to learn more – attending studies, taking courses, reading books. And then we’ll become teachers or preachers or prophets. We’ll start talking about our faith, and taking greater and greater risks.

And as we begin to lose our lives for Jesus’ sake, as we embrace the risks and the hard things that Jesus has called us to embrace, it is then that we will find the new life that God has prepared for us.

When churches decide what to put on our signs or our websites or our brochures, we don’t put things like “Come and suffer with us” – not because hardship and suffering are not a part of the journey with Jesus, but because we know the end of the story. We know that Jesus’ way of goodness and love led to his suffering and death. But we also know that in the end, Jesus was raised to new life beyond death. And we have the promise that God’s goodness and love will win out for us in the end as well.

Many of you probably watched the funeral for NDP Leader, Jack Layton, yesterday. And you may have read the letter that he wrote to Canadians just a few days before his death. When I read Jack’s final words, they sounded very familiar – very similar to some other words that I knew very well. Layton wrote: “My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.” Those are wonderful words, and I have no doubt that they will encourage and inspire many Canadians to greater civility, inclusivity, and generosity.

But the words they reminded me of came from the song that we learned this morning – a song by John Bell of the Iona Community, based on the words of Bishop Desmond Tutu:

Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate;
Light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death.
Victory is ours, victory is ours through him who loved us.
Victory is ours, victory is ours through him who loved us.

As a Canadian, and as a person of good will, I will do my best to be loving, hopeful, and optimistic, as Jack suggests. But as a Christian (in the midst of all the good things and the hard things that come with following Jesus) I will trust in the good news that I have heard, and seen, and believed in Jesus Christ who suffered, died, and was raised by the power of God. In the end, we will see that goodness, love, light, and life are not only better, but they are stronger than evil, hate, darkness, and death. And victory is ours through Jesus Christ who loved us. Amen.

Marie-Louise is a Roman Catholic lay woman who studied at the Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon. She is an active leader in the ecumenical community of Saskatoon and area, including the Women in Ministry group of which Rev. Amanda is a participant. Marie-Louise serves as a Pastoral Associate at St. Augustine’s Parish in Humboldt, SK.

Matthew 15:21-28

There is tension in the Gospel today. Who is Jesus’ ministry for? Do foreigners and outcasts have a right to lay claim to God’s grace and healing? Just like in our time, there were strong cultural opinions in Jesus’ time about who was acceptable and who was not: clean and unclean people, they called them back then. So it is no wonder that even Jesus hesitates to grant the Canaanite woman her request. The Canaanites were deeply despised by the Israelites, especially because fertility rites were part of their religious practices. Jesus experiences tension and the reality of human limitations.

This foreign woman approaches a Jewish man, does him homage and begs a favour she has no right to. She bursts into Jesus’ space and pleads with him: “Lord, son of David, have pity on me! My daughter is terribly troubled by a demon.” Jesus refuses …he refuses to give in to the disciples’ pleading to remove this nuisance from their midst. Instead, he directs himself to the woman and leads the discussion in a such way that she should accept his hesitation to cure. He says quite forcefully: “I am a stranger here; I should not interfere.” Is this out of character, or is Jesus merely testing her? Or in the worst case, is he just profoundly rude, insensitive, and harsh? “Help me!” the woman insists. Jesus’ next words seem excessively harsh: “It is not right to take the food of children and throw it to the dogs!”

“Dogs” was a term used for outsiders who encroach upon another’s holy place. It is an insult, a metaphor that sees others not as human beings, but as animals eating leftovers. We have every good reason to be troubled and even scandalized at Jesus’ terrible rudeness to this needy woman.

Jesus left the place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Both Jesus and the woman are outside of their native territories. Both are looking for something, both are in need, both are strangers to the area and to one another. They are different in race, nationality, gender, religion, and probably in politics, economics and spirituality as well. The disciples view her intervention as a problem; they do not wish to be caught up in something that has nothing to do with them or with Jesus.

The Canaanite woman issues a bold challenge: even if Jesus’ mission is initially meant for the Jews,is he nevertheless willing to respond to genuine faith no matter whose faith it is? But then again … who knows what this woman is about…Better safe than sorry; better not throw the message of God’s kingdom to the dogs.

We’re disturbed that Jesus would act this way, but let’s be honest … how often do WE act in this way? We’d rather be safe than sorry ourselves. Most of us have made up our minds about what is important in our lives and who counts in the grand scheme of things (and who doesn’t count). We are diligent in living our faith and church commitment. We stick to our priorities with honourable loyalty and a principled sense of duty. So principled and so loyal are we that nothing can divert us from our goal to serve God. Until someone rattles our cage, like the Canaanite woman does today…

Several years ago my friend Bob was asked by a social worker to become a buddy to a man suffering from AIDS. Bob started to visit Jerry regularly, and the two men, similar in age, became friends. Bob learnt about Jerry’s struggle with his homosexuality, about his failed marriage ending in divorce, and about his feeling ousted and rejected by the church. Yet, despite feeling judged and not wanted, Jerry had maintained an unfailing trust in God. Now, in the final stages of the disease, Jerry had come home to his family to die. Bob contacted the pastor of Jerry’s church to request a reconnecting and a reconciliation.

The pastor was afraid to visit Jerry. Even when he did come, months later, he remained too fearful to make it past the hospital-room door. Meanwhile, Jerry and Bob talked about everything, and prayed about everything. When Bob offered to bring Jerry Holy Communion, Jerry replied: “The church has made it clear that I am not wanted. But thank you anyway.” When Jerry died just after Easter, the pastor came to the funeral…Better safe than sorry…

Sure, Jesus’ mission is intended for God’s chosen people. But who are God’s chosen people? My friend’s experience reflects today’s Gospel. Both accounts hold up the mirror. We see ourselves. We are the disciples who tell Jesus to send the woman away, for she keeps shouting at us. We are the pastor, afraid to enter into relationship with the gay man dying of HIV/AIDS.

The Syro-Phoenician woman calls Jesus Lord, refers to him as master, and humbly says that she, like dogs at the table in the household, will gladly take the leftovers of his mission and power. It is no coincidence that Matthew placed this story right smack between the two miraculous feeding of the multitudes: in the previous chapter 5,000 men, besides women and children were fed and twelve baskets of leftovers were collected. Immediately following this encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman another 4,000 men, besides women and children, are fed and seven baskets of leftovers were collected. Ever wondered what happened with all those leftovers?

While the crowds were adequately provided for, it is the Syro-Phoenician woman who seeks what Jesus’ own people will not accept. And Jesus is astounded at her faith (28). A woman, an outcast, stopped Jesus in his divine tracks and forced him to rethink his whole mission to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Together they broke down the barriers between them.

Leaving the beaten track to respond to a cry for help always, always upsets routines, goals and priorities. Jesus feels that, and we feel that most of the time. We fear engaging with Canaanite women, with contemporary outcasts. In many parts of Europe – as we saw so brutally in Norway last month – Muslims are the new undesirables. And as the US approaches the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, there are already bumper stickers that read: “All I need to know about Islam I learned on 9/11.” Really?

When we engage with the least desirable among us, we come face to face with ourselves. How many times, Lord, have we not recognized you because we were too busy with our own private interests and have long ago set limits to whom we love? We can all be outraged when we hear news reports of rioting in England, suicide bombers, or illegal immigrants smuggled onto our Canadian shores. “Punish them, lock them up” “Send them back,” many shout. But our outrage is cheap and hollow. For we are the ones who have everything at the expense of people who are oppressed and exploited. We all help perpetuate the unjust distribution of the earth’s wealth, a wealth given by God to be shared with all people. Is it any surprise that England’s riots are taking place in the poorest of neighbourhoods where the prospects of a decent living are next to nil? With the disciples we say — if not out loud, surely in our hearts — “Tell them to go away, for they keep shouting at us.”

Sure, Jesus’ mission is intended for God’s chosen people. But as Jesus himself discovers, God invites the Canaanite woman, invites the gay man dying of AIDS, invites the smuggled immigrants and all people of good will, to be part of God’s chosen people. Even though we are limited by time and space, God’s love has no limits and accepts no boundaries.

Immediately following this Gospel scene, Jesus crosses over to the other side of the lake and feeds the crowds once again. But now his mission is to the world – to all peoples of the earth and all the lost children of God. Because of the Syro-Phoenician woman’s persistence, Jesus gains new insights into universalism, love and service and extends his mission past his own people, his own religion, his own nation.

Any encounter with and understanding of the Word of God changes us – our way of seeing God, of relating to him and to others. Who knows what will happen to us when we open ourselves up to God and allow his Word to work within us? We will meet strangers and outsiders who interrupt our lives, stop us in our tracks, and force us to ask deeper questions. We may end up, like Jesus, praising the still greater faith in strangers and outsiders.

On this side of death, we are all saved and unsaved, saint and sinner, both at the same time. We all bear the status of “foreigner” in God’s kingdom. We are really not that different from the Canaanite woman, the gay man with HIV/AIDS, the suicide-bomber, the smuggled and suffering illegal immigrants. We may not experience their particular illness, social rejection or utter destitution. But we all know times when we feel rejected, unloved, ignored, denied, attacked and judged. None of us goes through life without collecting the deep scars that sin and evil inflict. Engaging with someone who cries out for justice and healing is always unsettling, will lead us to the scars in our own heart. Only when we let this happen can compassion be born and healing occur. In the end, we all stand together, hungry and thirsty before our God as God’s chosen people. Only then, boundaries and distinctions will fall away.

With the Canaanite woman, we too can lay claim to God’s grace and healing, no matter who we are. We do not have to belong to the right church, nor follow the right rules and obligations. She didn’t, yet great was her faith. Sometimes established religious institutions can become the obstacle instead of the vehicle for the Gospel.

It is that glorious freedom of the Gospel, filled with the boundless grace of God, which makes Jesus exclaim in surprise: “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done to you as you wish.” Despite Jesus’ initial reluctance, never once does he rebuke the woman, never does he silence her, and never does he send her away. Instead, Jesus engages her in dialogue. Jesus enters a relationship with her, binding both her and himself in dialogue. God’s inclusiveness has nothing to do with cheap grace without demands or expectations. But it has everything to do with human dignity and the cost of entering into relationship.

In and through Jesus Christ, God entered into relationship with all humanity. For God, there is no turning back, and neither is there for us. Like the Canaanite woman’s faith, our faith in God’s unfailing grace will bring healing and lead us to God. Even if we feel like the dogs under the master’s table, we are still entitled to the scraps which fall from that table.

The courageous heroine of today’s story could not accept the premise that salvation did not include all people. It is she – the woman, the outcast, the despised one – who teaches Jesus that God’s grace and mercy are intended for all who believe regardless of origin or social condition. It is she who proclaims that God’s love knows no bounds. Which outsider in our time is teaching us this same truth?

Standing before God with bold faith, we can indeed claim God’s grace and healing, no matter who we are and no matter what church we belong to, if any. We cannot limit God nor trivialize what God can do. To those of us who hang on to rules and regulations, Jesus says: “Risk dialogue and relationship, leave the beaten track, and be open to find faith in unexpected places.” To those of us who downplay rules and commitment, Jesus says: “Put a face and a name on the one in need, enter into the demands of relationship, for your sake and for the sake of the other.” And to all of us Jesus says: “Always remember both your own need for healing as well as your calling to bring God’s healing to the world.”

And so, the tension in today’s Gospel is not resolved. Rather, we live the tension fully in the day-to-day challenges and encounters. For we are wounded healers, saint and sinner. As wounded healers God calls us in the service of the Gospel. Without limiting God, and without trivializing God’s healing love, we are the hands and feet, and the heart, of Christ. “We” are all God has on this earth.   Amen.

Matthew 14:22-33

When Amanda asked us some time ago to take this service, she suggested we could choose a text, or use the Lectionary. I looked up what the suggested readings are for this week. When I read the passage of Matthew, I knew I would like to study that a little more.

There is a little bit of an irony: here is a man who studied Science for many years in University, and who worked for almost 40 years in the sciences. Now I am going to preach on a miracle in the Bible!

The story of Jesus walking on the water is well-known. Many jokes are made around it. When working in the yard, I always wear my wooden shoes. People ask me sometimes if I use them to walk on water.

The story of Jesus walking on the sea is found in 3 Gospels, Mark, Matthew and John. It follows on the heels of the story of the feeding of the multitude. In the evening, when the crowd has been fed, Jesus immediately sends the disciples away to row to the other side of the lake. He also sends the crowd of 5000 home. Jesus wants to be alone to pray and to grieve over the murder of his cousin John the Baptist. He had to postpone this for a day, because he had compassion on the crowd that followed him, cured their ills and fed them. But now he sends everyone away with some urgency. Notice the word immediately. Even Jesus has to make time for prayer and meditation. Should we take an example here?

The disciples get into some rough water and have to row against a strong wind battering the boat. This is probably not something too scary. Some of them at least are fisherman used to ply these waters. They row a long time. In the light of the early morning they see somebody walking towards them across the water. Apparently, they do not recognize him, as they say in fear:” it is a ghost”, and they are terrified, not of the rough sea, but of a ghost. Often the unknown causes us to fear.

Immediately, Jesus tries to reassure them, saying: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid”. Jesus uses the phrase: it is I, literally: I AM. This is the name with which God revealed himself to Moses by the burning bush. Matthew here again stresses the Godhead of Jesus.

Notice again the word immediately. Jesus responds to the fear and need of reassurance of the disciples without hesitation or delay.

The interesting thing in this passage is what follows and what made me decide on this text. Only Matthew has the added story of Peter trying to walk on the water. This is a story of fear, doubt, faith and action, all intertwined, and of the saving grace of Jesus.

Remember, Jesus has identified himself to the disciples. ”It is I”. Hear what Peter says: “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water”. He has heard Jesus’ voice, seen him on the water, calls him:” Lord”. Still Peter says:” if it is you…” He is still not sure of the identity of this person, does not dare to believe it is Jesus, and maybe doubts Jesus’ ability to walk on water.

Nevertheless he asks Jesus to command him to walk on the water. We don’t know what prompted Peter to ask this. Maybe he wanted to be like Jesus. That reminds me of a song I learned in kindergarten; “I wish to be like Jesus”. The end of that song is like a cold shower: “Alas, I’m not like Jesus, that’s plain for all to see”.

Jesus simply replies with one word: “Come”.  And look, in spite of his hesitation or doubt, Peter steps overboard and starts walking on the waves. He leaves the relative safety of the boat and steps onto unknown territory when Jesus says: “Come”. He believes Jesus’ word and acts in this faith. He leaves his comfort zone when Jesus says “Come”, even though he has some reservations. He overcomes his doubt.

All seems to go well. Peter starts to walk and goes toward Jesus, goes in the right direction. But then troubles begin. Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and looks at the strong wind. Peter becomes frightened and begins to sink. Yet, he does not give up hope, has not lost his faith. As he is beginning to sink, he calls out to Jesus: “Lord save me”.

What is Jesus’ reaction? Does He think: let him have a good soaker, that will teach him a lesson? No, immediately Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter. No hesitation on the part of Jesus. Jesus is near, Jesus acts with saving grace. What a friend we have in Jesus.

Then Jesus says to Peter; “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” I don’t think Jesus is reprimanding Peter here, rebuking him. Rather, I like to think that Jesus reminds Peter of the parable that if you have faith even the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains. Nothing will be impossible for you.

Jesus and Peter climb into the boat and the wind ceases. The other disciples have watched this whole drama unfold. What is their reaction? They worship Jesus. They say: “You are the Son of God”. They confess their faith in Jesus.

The word used here for worship is to kneel or to prostrate yourself. It is used in the story of the Wise Men bringing gifts to Jesus. There it is translated as: they paid him homage. (In the KJV it says: “They fell down and worshiped”.)

In the end of the Gospel of Matthew the word is used again.  (Chapter 28) After the resurrection the disciples are told to go to Galilee to meet Jesus. The disciples worshiped him says Matthew 28. And a few words are added: “but some doubted”. Then Jesus says that all authority in heaven and on earth is given to him and commands the disciples to proclaim this Good News to the entire world.

Here again faith and doubt go together. I think that is a rather comforting thought. Who does not doubt at times? We believe that this world is God’s world and that he cares for his creation. But if you watch the news or read the paper you may doubt whether God is in control. Jesus told his disciples that the kingdom of heaven has come near.

This Gospel was written probably 50-60 years after Jesus died. It was written to the new churches that had been formed. They were in the Roman Empire. The Emperor was considered to be a god and was worshiped. Christians were often prosecuted. In his Gospel Matthew proclaims that Jesus is Lord, the Son of God, and is to be worshiped. This is of course a theological statement. Jesus is God’s Son. Jesus says when he identifies himself on the lake I AM, the name the Jews identified with God.

It is also a political statement. It is not the Emperor who rules and is worshiped. Matthew seems to say: Churches, Christians, do not worry about the political situation or about the Emperor. Worship God in Jesus. We live not in the Emperors realm, but in the Kingdom of God. We are in the world but not of the world.

We may doubt at times, but even with a little bit of faith we can move mountains. Amen.

I think I understand why Jesus’ disciples would have needed him to explain the parable of the weeds among the wheat. Like them, I don’t think I would have gotten the point just from hearing it once and thinking about it a little. In fact, I read the parable over and over this week. I reflected on it for hours. I read what others had to say about it online and in several published books. I even had a couple of conversations with other Christians about what Jesus’ parable might mean for us today.

But when I stopped reading and thinking and talking… when it was time for me to start writing, to decide what I would say to you today, I felt stuck. There seemed to be so many possible interpretations of the parable that I didn’t know where to begin. So I decided to begin with the explanation of the parable that is provided in the Gospel. Maybe that was Jesus’ own explanation to his disciples on that day when they were confused:

They were back in the house, and the crowds were left outside. And the disciples said to Jesus, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” And he answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evil-doers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”

Although the explanation might sound pretty scary to most of us, Jesus’ first disciples might have heard these words as words of comfort and encouragement. After all, they were on a mission with Jesus to build the kingdom of heaven on earth. And they might well have been feeling a little frustrated and discouraged by all the set-backs.

Not only did they have to accept the fact that people’s responses to their message were not always positive, there were times when they felt like they were competing with strong negative forces. The Pharisees and religious leaders that opposed Jesus’ ministry could be compared to the evil one sowing weeds among the wheat, and they had pretty much had enough of those trouble-makers.

Talitha Arnold explains that bearded darnel is a devil of a weed. It defies Emerson’s claim that a weed is “a plant whose virtues have yet to be discovered.” Known in biblical terms as “tares,” bearded darnel has no virtues. Its roots surround the roots of good plants, sucking up precious nutrients and scarce water, making it impossible to root it out without damaging the good crop. Above ground, darnel looks identical to wheat, until it bears seed. Those seeds can cause everything from hallucinations to death.

No wonder Jesus uses this noxious “cheat weed” to illustrate evil incarnate. Bearded darnel, also known as false wheat, is the botanical equivalent of the “ravenous wolves… in sheep’s clothing” of which Jesus has already warned. And though the disciples may not be able to deal with the weedy Pharisees themselves, the parable encourages them to hang on and be patient. God will sort things out in the end, and the weeds will be thrown into the fire.

But I wonder what those same disciples might have thought of the parable if they heard it again a few months or years later. I’m thinking of the time in Jesus’ ministry after things started to go drastically wrong. Just imagine if Judas had been reminded of the parable, just after he leaned over to greet Jesus with that kiss of betrayal. Or consider the possibility of Peter hearing the parable again while he was standing in the courtyard outside the house of the high priest, with his words of denial still hanging in the air.

When they first heard it, Jesus’ followers were probably pretty confident that they were the good seed growing into wheat, and someone else was the bad seed growing up into weeds and causing them problems. But maybe things weren’t so clear anymore. Perhaps there was some doubt – just enough to help them understand the parable in a new way.

Maybe then they started to wonder about the reason that the slaves are told to leave the weeds and the wheat alone. The slaves of the householder came and said to him, “Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where then did these weeds come from?” That may well be a question that the disciples grappled with in their own lives. They had been called and equipped to grow a kingdom of wheat, but somehow along the way – when they were looking the other way? When they were sleeping? – something happened and they got off track. They got scared. They got selfish. They got confused.

Maybe the weeds didn’t refer to the Pharisees at all. Maybe the weeds were the disciples themselves. Or maybe the point was that it was too soon to tell. The point of the parable could be that we still have time to figure out how to be wheat instead of weeds. There’s still time for us to change and grow and to become the children of the Son of Man who feed and bless the world. It’s a word of grace for us, when like those first disciples, we’re not so sure where we belong in the story.

However the earliest followers of Jesus understood his story, they thought it important enough that they passed it on. They warned their children about the weeds among the wheat, and they shared Jesus’ words of wisdom with the new Christians that joined their communities of faith. It was a difficult time for Jesus’ followers. They waited anxiously for him to return and usher in the kingdom of heaven, but the people and the culture around them made being Christian increasingly difficult.

Once again, it would have been easy for those early Christians to identify themselves as the wheat and to name all their enemies as the weeds sown by the evil one. In the context of their persecution and sufferings, those Christians might have related to the words of Psalm 139. (These are some of the verses that the lectionary skips over because they are so harsh.)

The psalmist laments to God, “How I wish that you would kill all cruel and heartless people and protect me from them! They are always rebelling and speaking evil of you. You know I hate anyone who hates you, Lord, and refuses to obey. They are my enemies too, and I truly hate them.”

You can see why the lectionary chooses to skip over those verses, eh? It’s hard to reconcile that kind of hatred coming from a person of faith, but there it is. And if the early Christians were human, then they could probably relate. It takes a really special kind of person to absorb the ridicule, rejection, and hatred of others, and to keep on responding with patience, understanding, and even forgiveness. It takes a really special person to do that.

Now, Jesus’ parable could have said, “Love the weeds. Accept the weeds as they are, and forgive them from your heart.” But instead, Jesus (in the voice of the householder) just says, “Leave the weeds alone.” Don’t put all your energy into digging out weeds. Let them grow, and let the reapers sort things out at harvest time. Let God sort things out at the end of the age. Be patient, and let the weeds and the wheat grow together for now.

But let’s consider the field for a moment. The explanation in the Gospel suggests that the field is the world. And we can certainly acknowledge that good and bad seed is planted and continues to grow in the world today.

We hear a lot about the bad seed on the news – dictators grabbing power and oppressing their people, madmen kidnapping women, and raping and murdering them, and selfish people or companies ravaging the earth for its resources, committing fraud, or taking advantage of the poor and the vulnerable.

As Christians, we are not supposed to simply accept the reality of these evil forces in our world. We are certainly called to work against them, seeking justice, and speaking out for the vulnerable and the voiceless. But when we are feeling overwhelmed or powerless or discouraged, the parable reminds us that God WILL sort it out in the end. God WILL rid the world of evil and malice and hatred one day. And the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.

But I noticed as I was reading, that many commentators suggest that the field might not refer to the whole world. It could just as easily refer just to the Christian community, to the church. And if that is the case, then this parable may be a response to the question of who is in and who is out.

What do we do about “less committed,” “less faithful,” perhaps even “trouble-making” members of the church? Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that SOME people aren’t as interested in bible study as others. SOME people only seem to show up when they need something, and they don’t help out with any of the church’s missions. SOME people hardly open their mouths except to voice a complaint or a criticism. And SOME people don’t give very generously when the offering plate comes around, let alone when there is a need and no tax receipt being offered.

There are weeds among the wheat, even in the Christian community, and like the faithful slaves of the householder, we (at times) are anxious to pull them out. They are making our lives difficult and stealing our joy!

God forbid that we have sinners in our midst! Never mind all those stories of Jesus eating with sinners, or his words about not judging one another. But as Fred Craddock says, there’s a lot of tension between the compulsion to purge imperfection and the “obligation to accept, forgive, and restore… the task of judging between good and evil belongs not to us, but to Christ.”

Is it possible that the mystery of the parable has something to do with God’s timing, and our inability to judge or, for that matter, our unwillingness to trust in God’s own judgment? God’s judgment, of course, is always better for someone else than it is for us. Still, there is evil and wrongdoing, and surely we’re supposed to do something.

Barbara Brown Taylor says that “what the householder seems to know is that the best and only real solution to evil is to bear good fruit. Our job, in a mixed field, is not to give ourselves to the enemy by devoting all our energy to the destruction of the weeds, but to mind our own business, so to speak – our business being the reconciliation of the world through the practice of unshielded love. If we will give ourselves to that, God will take care of the rest.”

And if, perchance, the field in the parable is actually within each of our individual lives… then perhaps by minding our own business, by focusing on our own calling to do our best and grow love in the world… then perhaps the wheat will grow within us, and among us, and between us. And there will be a wonderful harvest!

Responsibilities will include working with the Minister and the Pastoral Care Committee (10 hours per week) to provide a health ministry which emphasizes wholeness of body, mind, and spirit.

The qualified applicant will be a Christian registered nurse who is called to the ministry of Pastoral Care Nursing. She/he must be qualified as a Parish Nurse, or be willing to train through Interchurch Health Ministries Saskatchewan.

Further information, copies of the full ministry description, and application forms, are available from the church office (306-242-0525, email hidden; JavaScript is required). Applications will be accepted until August 12, 2011.

On the day that Jesus told the parable of the sower, the author of Matthew’s Gospel tells us that the crowd of listeners was so large that Jesus got into a boat and sat there to speak, while the crowd stood on the beach to listen. You might imagine that at this point in his ministry, Jesus would have been pleased with how things were going. What could be a greater sign of success than the crowds clamouring to get close to him, to touch him, to be healed by him, or to hear his words of wisdom, as they were doing on this particular day?

But I wondered, as I reflected on the parable this week, whether Jesus might actually have been feeling a bit discouraged. After all, when Jesus told parables, most of the people didn’t really understand what he was on about. Sure, they came in droves to listen to him for a while. But as we hear in the Gospel accounts several times, even Jesus’ closest disciples were confused by the stories that he told. So Jesus probably didn’t have any illusions about the fact that the average person in the crowd that day was going to completely miss the point of his speech.

If the story is an allegory, maybe Jesus himself is the sower, scattering the seeds of the Word of Life here and there and everywhere he goes… watching and waiting and hoping for those seeds to sprout and grow into people of faith and love and goodness and joyful discipleship. But while Jesus’ efforts are admirable, and the seeds of his teachings are good, many of those seeds have fallen on rock-laden, thorn-strewn ground.

Jesus may be experiencing the Pharisees and other religious leaders as weeds that want to choke out his message. And he’s soon going to find himself trying to plant seeds in the hard soil of his home town as the people of Nazareth reject him completely. And even his closest disciples, whom he might have thought were starting to get the point, suddenly lose their faith during a storm at sea. As one commentator puts it, “Jesus does not just tell this parable, he lives it.”

Jesus knows what it feels like to put your heart and soul into your mission, what it feels like to spend yourself completely on the work that God has called you to do, and to see, over and over again, the seeds being blown away in the wind, the seedlings shrivelling up and dying, and the small plants being choked out by the weeds. And Jesus’ followers in every age can relate to the challenges of doing ministry, of sharing the gospel, and trying to pass on the faith successfully. With this parable, Jesus reminds us today that rejection of Jesus’ message does not mean the message is wrong or our efforts are folly. It is simply a fact of life, whether in farming or in faith.

It would be simple for me to cast myself and other Christian preachers in the role of the sower. After all, we stand up in pulpits like these, Sunday by Sunday, having poured our hearts and souls into our sermons. We trust that our words are somehow God’s words for this day, and we hang on to the hope that the Word of Life will take root… knowing all the while that the odds are not any better than the sower’s. That is the preacher’s particular job, our calling. To sow the seed and to bear the heartache when it falls on rocky, arid, or weed-infested ground.

But in accepting this calling, we stand in solidarity with all those who know the hard truth of this parable. The parent, whose words of guidance and compassion fall on their teenager’s deaf ears, understands hard-packed ground. The businessman, who produces a quality product and pays employees a living wage, only to see his clients go where things are cheaper, is well acquainted with shallow roots.

Whether we are preachers or teachers trying to get a message across, or social workers, nurses, or volunteers trying to make a difference in people’s lives… Whether we are scientists or researchers trying to make the world a better place, or friends or family members trying to be present for one another… or certainly, if we are Christians trying to pass on the Word of Life, the parable reminds us where to keep our focus. We can’t get caught up in the temptation to spend our resources – time, energy, and hope – trying to coax, cajole, and beg for growth from inhospitable places and people. And we can’t let ourselves spend too much time despairing when the seed does not take root.

That’s not what the sower does. Instead, he accepts the reality that some seed, a significant portion of it, will fall on bad soil, and he simply keeps sowing. As the next fifteen chapters of Matthew demonstrate, Jesus keeps spreading the word, no matter how dry, rocky, or weed-infested the ground. His followers are called to do the same.

When I planted my garden this Spring, I used a different strategy. I didn’t go out into my back yard and just toss the seeds everywhere and anywhere. Nick and I actually built some garden boxes a few years ago on the sides of our deck. We lined them with a gardening cloth that lets through the water but not the weeds, filled them with good soil, and that’s where I plant my seeds.

Before I planted this year, I waited for the weather to get reasonably warm, I pulled out any weeds that had found their way into my garden, and I carefully did the planting at the appropriate depth and distance apart. And still, I’m just hoping for a good harvest of beans and tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers.

So what should we make of a sower who just throws the seeds everywhere, even in such unlikely, seemingly unproductive places? We may scratch our heads and wonder at such a foolish waste of seed and other precious resources. Even if we are not farmers or gardeners, the lesson here seems easy to apply to our situation as Christian churches.

If we ever set out to plant a new church, we should plant it in a carefully scrutinized, sure-to-grow neighbourhood. If we ever decide to develop a new mission, we should choose one where the odds are good and the possibilities are promising. If we ever decide to double our church’s membership, we should craft our message for a promising demographic and reach out to people who are motivated and purposeful and driven enough to receive and do something with it. We should be strategic about the location we choose – like any self-respecting hamburger or gas station or grocery chain – and maximize our effort towards the arena of greatest result. Find the good soil and throw seed on it! It’s just good business!

But that is not what the sower in the parable does. The sower just seems to fling those seeds anywhere and everywhere. I wonder, does he do it this way to remind us that the gospel might be bigger than good business principles, bigger than just good soil? Does he do it to suggest that “anywhere” is, in the final analysis, the arena of God’s care and redemptive activity. The sower throws seeds not only on good soil, but also amid the rocky, barren, broken places. And we are called to do the same – despite our best guesses that many, if not most of those seeds will not grow.

In “Feasting on the Word” (Year A, Volume 3, pages 239-241) Theodore Wardlaw tells the story of an experience when he caught a glimpse of God and God’s mercy in such a place. Let me end this morning with his story, and his reflection on this parable:

I was with a group of civic leaders – lawyers, politicians, foundation representatives, journalists – touring various outposts of our city’s criminal justice system. It was near the end of the day, and we were visiting the juvenile court and detention center. That place was so depressing, its landscape marked by wire-mesh gates with large padlocks and razor wire wrapped around electrified fences. When the doors clanged shut behind us, I imagined how final they must always sound when adolescents – children! – are escorted there. We were led, floor by floor, through this facility by an amazing young judge who worked there. She showed us the holding cells where the new inmates are processed. She showed us the classrooms where an ongoing education is at least attempted. She showed us the courtrooms where cases are prosecuted.

Near the end of the tour, she led us down one bleak hall to give us a sense of the cells where young offenders lived. Each cell had a steel door with narrow slots about two-thirds of the way up, through which various pairs of eyes were watching us as we walked down the hall. Some of these children were accused of major crimes; some of them were repeat offenders. Most of them, we learned, had had little or no nurture across their brief lives – not from a primary adult who cared about them, not from family, not from neighbourhood, not from church.

It was hard to notice those eyes staring through narrow slots without doing something. So I lingered at one door and whispered to one pair of eyes: “God loves you.” The eyes did not appear to register much, and sometimes I wonder what, if anything, happened next. Did that news fall on the path to get eaten by birds? Did it fall among thorns to get choked out? I will never know.

As the tour went on, the cumulative effect of all this brokenness got to one member of our group, who finally just stopped in the hallway and began to cry. When the judge noticed this, she paused in her narration, walked back and put her arms around that person, and, with tears in her own eyes, said, “I know. I understand.”

I thought to myself, “If I am ever to be judged, I want a judge like that.” Then it dawned on me – like a seed thrown onto my path – that indeed I do have a judge like that!

Our blessed judge – the holy One towards whose ultimate judgment we now make our way – is like the sower in this text. The parable, true to its form, is more like a riddle, hiding as much as it reveals about God. It must have been confusing to its original readers and hearers too, because an allegorical interpretation was finally added to clean things up and drive home a good point about good soil.

Ultimately, though, this parable is not so much about good SOIL as it is about a good SOWER. This sower is not so cautious and strategic as to throw the seed in only those places where the chances for growth are best. No, this sower is a high-risk sower, relentless in indiscriminately throwing seed on all soil – as if it were ALL potentially good soil. On the rocks, amid the thorns, on the well-worn path, maybe even in a jail!

Which leaves us to wonder if there is any place or circumstance in which God’s seed cannot sprout and take root.

John and Jesus were related. Their mothers, Elizabeth and Mary had been cousins and they were probably pretty good friends as well. Though the women were different ages, they shared an important bond of friendship and shared experience. They had been pregnant at the same time (a first child for each of them) and it was a bit of a miracle for them both as well.

I wonder if John and Jesus spent much time together as they were growing up. And I wonder if they were friends. The only Gospel story we have about Jesus’ childhood is the one where the whole family goes to Jerusalem for one of the festivals. It’s the story where Jesus gets left behind while the rest of the family starts heading for home. He gets caught up in the temple talking about God with the older men. And no one even notices that Jesus is gone until they are well on their way home. I wonder if John was the second-cousin who reported him missing.

Anyway, they could scarcely be more different, these two, at least by the time they had grown up: John, the bug-eating wilderness prophet, and Jesus, who was known to love a good meal with all kinds of company; John, who wore scratchy shirts on purpose, and Jesus, who could occasionally be persuaded to invoke the power of YHWH to keep the wine flowing at a wedding reception; John, who addressed the people who came to hear his preaching as a “brood of vipers,” pointing out their sins and failings and urging them to repent before it’s too late, and Jesus, who in Matthew opens his signature sermon with congratulations… Blessed are you who are poor, blessed are you who are meek, blessed are you who are peace makers… Jesus, who fed people, and healed people, and who told story after story about the amazing grace, and love, and forgiveness of God.

John and Jesus turned out to be so different… but they came to a similar end, if you think about it. They both attracted crowds and a lot of attention for a while. They both gathered a following. But they both got people angry and upset with them, and they both ended up dead… John, with his head cut off and displayed on a platter, Jesus, whipped and stripped, and hung on a cross to die.

In Matthew 11, the section before this morning’s Gospel reading, the author is trying to make sense of these two and their roles. At this point in the story, John the Baptist is in prison, but he’s been hearing about what Jesus is doing. So John sends word by his disciples to ask Jesus a question. He asks, “Are you the one who is to come… [are you the Messiah] or are we to wait for another?” And Jesus encourages the disciples, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

Then Jesus tells a parable about the differences between himself and John and the rejection they have in common. He compares the people of his time to fickle children who keep changing the rules of the game. He points out that John came “neither eating nor drinking.” John lived out in the wilderness, survived on locusts and wild honey, and with strong and sometimes harsh words, he called the people to repentance – to turn their sinful lives towards God and God’s ways. And they did not care for his style at all. He was too old school for their taste – too stern and demanding. So they played the flute, and said, “Come on, John, lighten up. Lay off the hellfire, and dance to our tune.”

Then Jesus came and he was ready to dance – to dance as they had never dreamed! Every meal was a party, as long as everyone was invited. But they had complaints about him too. They wailed about the company Jesus kept and called him a “glutton” and a “drunkard.”

While John was almost too religious for them, and demanded too much, Jesus didn’t seem religious enough. It was obvious that he knew the scriptures pretty well, but then he’d go and break the rules when he wanted to. He even performed healings on the Sabbath day, and that just wasn’t acceptable by any religious standards.

It seems to me that people today aren’t so different from the people back in the time of John and Jesus. Most of us who get involved in some kind of religion have an idea of what we’re looking for, of what we’re hoping to get out of our faith, or out of our church. And we get turned off by certain emphases that we encounter in different churches or from different ministers.

For some of us it’s the harsh and demanding preaching that’s difficult to take. We don’t appreciate coming to church and being reminded of all the mistakes we’ve made during the week. It makes us feel guilty, and that isn’t a very nice feeling. We don’t want to be judged. And we don’t want to become judgmental ourselves. And so we avoid those churches.

But for others, it’s the lovey dovey stuff we’re hearing that gets on our nerves. God is love. And everyone is welcome and affirmed no matter who they are, no matter what they’ve done or what they’ve failed to do. It’s almost like there are no expectations anymore for how God wants us to live. And so we avoid those churches.

But John and Jesus were both sent by God. In Matthew 11, Jesus speaks very highly of John the Baptist. Jesus calls John the messenger who was sent to prepare his way. And so somehow, the urgent message of repentance and the comforting message of God’s grace and love are both a part of the Gospel of God.

In a reflection on today’s text, Lance Pape writes that God’s ways can be both too little and too much for us – God’s agenda somehow simultaneously too “conservative” and too “liberal.” We chafe under John’s unapologetic insistence that a moment of decision is at hand for each of us – that we must examine our hearts, let the chaff burn away, and embrace God’s future with our whole lives.

However, Jesus can also rub us the wrong way. In his irrational exuberance he just does not seem to grasp that some people are beyond hope – that we must keep select company in order to keep our lives on an even keel.

Both of these messages are a threat to our hard-won autonomy. We long to maintain a happy medium between John’s stifling demands and Jesus’ frightening inclusiveness. So we keep changing our tune, insisting on the moderation (or is it the mediocrity?) that we can secure for ourselves, not the extraordinary future that God dreams for us and the world.

It seems to me that the Gospel calls us, not to choose an emphasis that works for us, nor to take a little of each perspective and to try to find a good balance. Instead, we need good healthy servings of both John and Jesus. We need to listen to that urgent call to repentance and turn away from sin and towards goodness, and righteousness, and justice in every aspect of our lives. And we also need to know, in the depths of our hearts, that no matter who we are, or what we have done, or how many times we have failed in that turning, that we are held and embraced by the merciful and loving arms of God.

I think the apostle Paul understood that he needed both. In our reading this morning, we heard him struggling with his inability, despite his best intentions to do good. He wrote, “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Wretched man that I am!”

In other words, Paul was still trying to live according to God’s ways and God’s laws. He was still trying to turn his life away from sin and towards goodness and love. He was trying, and at times failing, and he was trying some more. But when it came down to it, he knew that God was gracious. He knew that God loved him. And in Jesus Christ, God had forgiven him for all the times when he just couldn’t manage to do the good that he wanted and intended to do. Paul wrote, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” And then he answered his own question: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Jesus knew that following the commandments of God isn’t easy. And he knew that loving one another – loving our friends, and our neighbours, and our enemies – is easier said than done. He compared it to a yoke across our shoulders, to a burden that we have to carry. And that may well be how we experience our faith at times. But it is a burden that we do not have to carry alone. It is a yoke that we can share with Christ, so much so that it even becomes light.

Jesus invites us: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Last Sunday one of our scripture readings was the Great Commission from Jesus at the very end of Matthew’s Gospel (chapter 28). Jesus sent his apostles out saying: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

By this time in the Gospel story, Jesus is on his way out. He’s gone up a mountain with his closest followers, and he’s well on his way to heaven. He’ll no longer be physically present to lead them and guide them in their new mission.

But the mission isn’t really all that new. Way back at chapter ten of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus had sent them out with a similar task. At Matthew 9:36-38 we read, When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

It seems that even with Jesus there in the flesh, the work of spreading the Gospel and inviting the people to return to God was not a one-person job. Jesus could see that there were more people than he alone could possibly care for. And so, as Matthew tells it, he calls together twelve of his followers. He gives them power and authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness.

And so the first mission trip of Christianity begins. Many more have followed throughout the centuries, as followers of Jesus have heard the call of Christ to join in Jesus’ mission and the mission of his earliest followers.

I’m thinking of the mission trip that a few of us from here at St. Andrew’s went on a little over a year ago. It’s not that there aren’t good things that we could be doing right here in Saskatoon to serve God and share the good news about Jesus. But like so many others before us, we felt a call to go out, to travel to a new place, to meet new people, and to share God’s love with them in a very practical way.

We went down to a little community outside of Atlanta, Georgia where there had been a bad flood the previous September. And our work for the week was to help in fixing up a home that had been badly damaged by the water. It was already eight months since the flooding, but the single mother and her children who lived in the home were not properly insured, and the only way that the home would get restored enough for them to live there again would be if someone – in this case, an organization of Christian churches – decided to give their time, energy, and money to make it happen.

It was a very well-organized mission trip. We received financial support from the St. Andrew’s Memorial Fund. We booked out flights down to Atlanta and got a rental car to get around where we needed to go during the week. We stayed in the local Presbyterian Church where the congregation had set up rooms with cots for us to sleep on, and they had bathrooms with showers right there in the church. The church kitchen was well-stocked with food for our meals, and drinks and snacks to keep us going throughout the day.

One of the members of the church served as our host, got us set up in the church – our temporary home for the week – and came to join us for evening prayer each night. And a representative from Presbyterian Disaster Assistance checked in with us too, oriented us to the program we’d be a part of, and got us set up at the work site.

It all went rather smoothly, I must say. And though we worked really hard that week, and got really hot and tired and sore from the physical labour, we were really warmly welcomed. And there were lots of people checking in to make sure that our needs were met during our short visit.

That’s a real contrast to the first mission experiences of Jesus’ earliest followers. We can only try to imagine the conditions under which they did their work… the long days they endured, the hot temperatures, the minimal supplies, and the hard places where they took their rest.

And whereas our trip was nicely planned out in advance with the appropriate financial support, they just got up and went. They visited towns and villages where no one was expecting them, where they neither had a room reserved at an inn, nor any money to pay for it, and where there were no church communities to provide for their needs.

Whereas we packed carefully and brought along plenty of American dollars for our mission trip to Georgia last year, Jesus tells the apostles that they should not bring any gold, or silver, or copper in their belts, no bag for the journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff. He sends them out to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons, and he doesn’t even arrange a place for them to stay. He simply tells them to look for people in the villages who will welcome them into their homes. They were to depend on the kindness of strangers.

As Jesus sends them out, Matthew’s Gospel reports that he gives the apostles fair warning about what they’re getting into. Not only will they be likely to be tired and hungry at times, but they’ll actually experience a lot of rejection and persecution along the way.

Jesus compares the apostles to sheep being sent out into the midst of wolves. He tells them that they’ll need to be as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves. They’ll get handed over to councils and be flogged in the synagogues. They’ll get dragged before governors and kings because of Jesus.

Of course he encourages them not to be afraid. He says, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” He tells them that God will be right there with them, caring for them, watching over them. Even the hairs of your heard are all counted, Jesus assures them.

And then finally, at the end of this long chapter of instructions from Jesus for the journey, he tells them about the people that will welcome them when they come through town: “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Jesus refers to his apostles by three different titles in this passage. They are to serve as prophets – proclaiming messages from God to the people they encounter, calling the people back into relationship with God, back into the way of life that God has prepared for them. They are to be righteous people – people who live the loving way of Jesus, who do what is right, who do God’s will.

Those titles make sense. The apostles will go out to be prophets and righteous ones as they cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. But Jesus also calls them “little ones.” Though he has blessed them with power and authority to do some wonderful things, they are going out with a great deal of vulnerability. They’re not independent and self-sufficient. Instead, they’ve got to depend on the people they meet to be helpful and co-operative. They are “little ones” who, along the way, might find themselves in desperate need of something as simple as a cup of cold water.

And Jesus is clear that the people who do welcome them, who do provide them hospitality and take care of their most basic needs… these people are just as vital in the ministry of Christ as the apostles that get sent out. By welcoming the missionaries, they are welcoming Christ, and by welcoming Christ, they are welcoming God. And they will receive the same reward as the missionaries themselves, the amazing grace and mercy of our loving God.

I’m thinking of the mission that is closest to us here at St. Andrew’s and perhaps closest to our hearts, and that is the Saskatoon Native Circle Ministry just a few blocks away up 20^th Street at Avenue E. The Rev. Stewart Folster serves as the minister there… or we could call him the lead missionary. Others work with him there… a mission support worker, Chantel, members of the Board, and others who volunteer their time and talent for the mission.

They do the work of prophets and righteous people among the First Nations poor of our city. They feed the hungry, they welcome the homeless, they offer healing circles and prayer, and they invite the people to turn to the Creator for help and hope in the midst of the difficulties of their lives.

When you think about it, Stewart began the street-front ministry a few years ago without a lot of supplies and resources to back him up. It began with a small rented space and the offer of some coffee. And slowly it grew, and developed, and expanded.

Since SNCM is not a travelling ministry, there isn’t a need for individuals and congregations to welcome these missionaries into our homes and to provide for their needs like the “little ones” in Matthew’s Gospel. But there is certainly a need for congregations like ours, and others in the Presbytery and across the country to welcome the work of these missionaries by giving generously to support what they are doing.

Not all of the followers of Jesus were called to go out on the road. Some of them just needed to be ready to welcome the prophets and take care of their needs. Not all of us Presbyterians will be called to go on mission trips or to become front-line workers in the missions of our inner city. Some of us just need to be willing to support and encourage and provide for the prophets, the righteous persons, and the “little ones” who have themselves responded to the call of Christ to go out.

Jesus said to the missionaries, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”

Today is Trinity Sunday, the only Sunday in the church year that calls us to ponder a teaching of the church rather than a teaching of Jesus. The scripture readings, of course, are carefully chosen to reflect the Three-in-One doctrine: God as Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit. And the readings provide biblical backup for a non-scriptural word: Trinity.

Although this mystery of God revealed in three ways is a core belief of Christianity, we struggle to explain it. Monotheistic Christians do back flips explaining why such a belief doesn’t make us polytheists. It sure sounds like we worship three Gods, while we claim that God is One.

A reflection on water has often been used to provide insight into this baffling doctrine. At different temperatures, water exists as a gas, as a liquid, or as a solid. Water is one substance, but it has three very different forms. Is that helpful for wrapping our heads around our one God – Father, Son, and Spirit? Perhaps.

A Lutheran pastor, Mary Anderson, in a reflection on the Trinity, describes a memorable experience of the Three-in-One. She was watching her grandmother sleep during her afternoon nap. As she contemplated the old woman’s existence, she thought wisely, “That’s Grandmamma, Mamma, and Odelle.”

Mary’s grandmother smiled in her sleep as Mary called her by the names used for her by her grandchildren, her daughter, and her husband. Three names, three relationships – and yet the same person.

I think it’s interesting that Trinity Sunday happens to land this year on Father’s Day. On a day when many people in our society are celebrating and thanking their human fathers, Christians are invited to reflect on God as Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Those among us who have experienced the blessing of having a wonderful father likely understand why Jesus and those who became his followers began to call God their father. They experienced God as one who was as close and caring and reliable and generous as a loving father, so that when they addressed their prayers to God they began to call God Abba, Daddy, our Father.

Some of us, of course, may have never experienced that kind of a father. Perhaps if we never knew a father at all, we might find comfort and encouragement in the God who is the true father of us all.

But others have had fathers who abandoned them, fathers who abused them, or fathers who seemed to only make demands and showed no grace or love. For these, Father’s Day may not be a day of celebration, and God as Father may not be a particularly helpful metaphor.

But it seems to me that the purpose of the Trinitarian language – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – is not to set limits on our understanding of who God is. Nor are these words the only words that may assist our minds and hearts to connect with the mysterious God that Christians have experienced as One in Three.

The doctrine itself was likely not formulated for the purpose of fully explaining the nature of God. After all, the church doesn’t fully understand the nature of God, nor could we find words adequate to express it. It has been suggested that the point of the doctrine is not to provide a full and complete explanation, but it is simply an attempt to put the faith of the church into words, an attempt to share what Christians have come to know and experience of God.

We might think of the doctrine of the Trinity as part of the church’s response to the Great Commission from Jesus.

At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus appears one more time to eleven of his closest followers. And he gives them a Great Commission. He makes it abundantly clear what they are being sent to do in the world:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations,” he tells them, “baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

The apostles were sent to baptize and to teach, to invite others to turn away from sin and towards God, and to help them learn the wise ways that Jesus had taught and demonstrated in his life.

Throughout history, the church has always taken that commission very seriously, but it hasn’t always led to the results that I imagine Jesus was hoping for.

Just think of the crusades. Christians in that era took the commission seriously all right. They took it so seriously that they would force people to be baptized on pain of death. And those who refused would be slaughtered. The crusaders must have thought that they were getting the job done, but no one was turning to God through that kind of baptism. And the Christians themselves were turning away as they engaged in the kind of violence and misuse of power that is so contrary to Jesus’ way of life and his teaching.

Of course, the crusades were a long time ago, and the churches today bear little resemblance to the powerful and militant church of that time. And yet, not so many years have passed since the Christian churches of this country teamed up with the Canadian government to impose our religion and culture on the First Peoples of this land.

The legacy of the Residential Schools witnesses to the arrogance of our churches to assume that we have God and God’s will all figured out, that we could assume that the Aboriginal children would somehow be better off if we removed them from their homes and families and communities and put them in our schools.

There is no doubt that many Christians of good will and good intention participated in the process, alongside others who took great advantage of the system to torment and abuse these vulnerable children.

At the heart of the problem, I think, was the fact that we Christians presumed that we were the ones who understood and could explain God and God’s will for our lives. We were fulfilling the Great Commission of Jesus to baptize and to teach. And we were so focused on that mission that we never stopped to notice that our Aboriginal sisters and brothers knew something of our mysterious God too.

On the back of this morning’s worship bulletin, Lori Ransom shares a glimpse of the faith and deep wisdom that is found in Native Spirituality:

“We live every day as a prayer,” explains the traditional Native Elder. “All day we give thanks to the Creator for all the Creator has blessed us with, providing for all of our needs in this world.”

Indigenous people in Canada always pray by giving thanks for each element of God’s creation: the plants and medicines that nourish and heal; the birds and animals that feed, clothe and provide companionship; the winds that cool; the waters that refresh; the rocks and minerals that help build our communities; all things bright and beautiful that lift our spirits.

Today is not only Father’s Day for the world, and Trinity Sunday for the church. The Presbyterian Church in Canada has also designated today as Aboriginal Sunday – the Sunday immediately following the Canadian Aboriginal Day which was celebrated this past Thursday.

Today is a good day to recognize and celebrate the gifts and insights of our Aboriginal brothers and sisters in our church and in our communities. It is an important day to remember the errors of the past, and to commit to doing things differently in the present and the future.

It has been 17 years since the Presbyterian Church in Canada made its official apology for our participation in the Residential School system, and we still have a long way to go and a lot of work yet to do to promote healing and reconciliation with those whom we harmed and their children and grandchildren.

The doctrine of the Trinity may serve today to remind us that God is yet a mystery to us. Though we keep on trying to understand God more and more, and we keep on doing our best to put our faith into words, and we keep on trying to share our faith with all the people of the world, we need to be reminded from time to time that God is yet beyond our human understanding. God is yet a mystery.

And, in fact, those people that the church once tried to evangelize may actually understand many aspects of God’s character even better than we do.

Indigenous peoples, for example, share the Christian belief in the sacredness of all that God has created. And their traditional ways of life allow them to live out that belief by respecting and caring for the created world and all its gifts and blessings.

May God grant us wisdom as we try to understand God and God’s will for us more fully. May God grant us humility, as we try to carry out the Great Commission of Christ with grace and integrity. And may God fill us with joy as we grow together in mutual love and understanding. Amen.

The sun is rising very, very early these days, so hopefully you’ll be up earlier and ready to worship God a little earlier too. And perhaps you can go out from worship at St. Andrew’s to continue to worship God as you enjoy God’s creation and some beautiful summer Sundays.

Are you travelling this summer? Take the opportunity to worship with a local Presbyterian Church or a church of another denomination wherever you are staying. Take a holiday from work. Take a holiday from your usual routines.  But don’t take a holiday from your true purpose of glorifying and enjoying God.

The May issue of the newsletter included a survey on the Sunday worship times. The suggestion has been made that we might consider moving worship to 10:30 am year round. The Session is interested in hearing how everyone feels about this. Please fill in the survey and return it to the church office. Session will be considering your input in the fall before making any changes.

The wind was blowing yesterday. It was slamming the screen door and rattling the blinds of my house. It was pushing my little red car as I drove along the freeway so that I had to hang on tight to the steering wheel. It was rustling through the branches of the trees and sending out showers of seeds through the air. And up above, it was streaking its way across the sky, playing with the clouds and creating an ever-changing display of God’s glory.

It makes a lot of sense to me that the Spirit of God should be compared to a rushing wind… an invisible force that seems to come out of nowhere, but that makes its presence and power seen and heard by its effect on whatever it blows upon.

I remember a friend in my church membership class years ago trying to describe what the Holy Spirit was. She said the Spirit is the “umph” I need to do and be what God is calling me to do and be. The Spirit is like the “divine shove” that disturbs us out of our resting places and moves us to start doing God’s work in the world.

That definition fits pretty well when you think about the Spirit being poured out on the gathered disciples on that first Pentecost day after Jesus’ death and resurrection. They described the Spirit as a rushing wind swirling around them, as tongues of fire resting upon them. It was a sudden, surprising, and powerful interruption of their quiet waiting, and the effect was that they got going.

I can imagine the wind of the Spirit blowing open the doors of the house where they were gathered. I can imagine the flames of firey Spirit flashing about and encouraging them to get moving. And out they went. Into the streets. And the Spirit somehow gave them the ability to tell of the mighty acts of God and to be understood by all the people of the world.

I often think about the Spirit when we’re trying to recruit volunteers in the church. Whether we’re looking for new elders or Board members, church school teachers or hospital visitors… we pray for the Spirit of God to help us think of the right person. And we pray for the Spirit to prompt that person to know whether they are, indeed, the right person for the job.

It’s easy in the church to get really worried about whether we will find enough willing volunteers to do all the different jobs we think we need to get done. We end up with a sheet of paper with slots to fill, and we have to find people willing to fill those slots.

But the danger is that we might stop thinking about the people because we get so wrapped up in filling the slots, of making sure that we have someone assigned to do all the jobs. For example, right now I’m looking for someone to take on the job of serving as the treasurer of Presbytery. It’s a very specific task, requiring a certain set of mathematical and organizational skills. And it’s a slightly different set of skills than is required of our nursery caregivers, for example.

But even if we think carefully about who we might ask to do certain ministries within the church, and even if we pray and ask the Spirit to lead us in our search, we’re still kind of going at it backwards, I think.

We’re starting with the job, and then looking for the person to do it. And I wonder if we really should be starting with the person, and asking God’s Spirit to show us what each one should be doing, what each one is being called to do, what each one has been gifted by the Spirit to do.

When I think about my own call to ministry, that’s the way it worked. There wasn’t someone who phoned me up and said, “Amanda, there’s going to be a minister needed in Saskatoon. Won’t you consider going to school and becoming a minister? We’re really going to need someone to fill that pulpit.”

Instead, my decision was part of a long process of discerning gifts, and listening for the Spirit, and preparing for ministry long before there was a slot to be filled in Saskatoon.

Now I suppose it doesn’t always work that way. When I became the Clerk of Presbytery it was the other way around. I wasn’t thinking that I wanted to be a clerk. I wasn’t feeling called to take the minutes, and keep the records, and take on the administrative role for the Presbytery of Northern Saskatchewan or for any Presbytery. But there was a need. And I thought about whether I COULD do it, whether I had the organizational skills required, or whether I could develop those skills. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt called by God to respond to that need and to trust the Spirit to help me get the job done.

One of the things that I noticed about the Pentecost story this week was that when the Spirit rushed into the house in Jerusalem that day, it didn’t pick one person to become the preacher or teacher of the Good News. Instead, the wind blew through all the gathered disciples, and a tongue of fire rested on each and every one of them.

Sure, as the church grew and developed, Jesus’ followers took on different tasks and responsibilities. But they were all filled with the Spirit, they were all gifted with the power of God, and they all used that power to spread the news about God’s goodness and love far and wide.

The Apostle Paul made it clear to the Christians at Corinth that God had an important part for every person to play in the church. He told them, “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.” And that meant that the Spirit was filling each and every follower of Jesus, whether they were speaking in tongues and wowing the crowds, or whether they were simply and quietly caring for their sick neighbours.

Paul said, “There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in every one.”

One of the topics that came up during our congregational planning retreat in April was spiritual gifts. And we dreamed about the possibility of doing something to help each other to figure out what gifts we have so that we can make good use of them for God.

The Stewardship Committee has a goal for next year to focus on Stewardship of our Spiritual Gifts. They’re going to invite everyone to join a small group and participate in a short program – probably just 2 or 3 gatherings – on spiritual gifts. It will be an opportunity to learn about different gifts and to discern what gifts we have been given… so that we can celebrate our gifts, and develop our gifts, and so that we can make good use of our gifts within the church and in our daily lives as God’s people.

Today I’m wearing my red stole for Pentecost. The embroidered doves on it are a symbol of the Holy Spirit, whom I trust is in me and around me, gifting and equipping me to do the work of ministry to which I have been called.

But I also invited YOU to wear red or orange or yellow this morning as a symbol of the Holy Spirit in your life and in our midst. Some of you heard that invitation, and some of you remembered. And as I look around, I see a church full of people who are filled with the Spirit, gifted by the Spirit, and sent by the Spirit to do the work of ministry to which God is calling you.

As Paul writes, “In the one Spirit, we were all baptized into one body – Jews or Greeks, slaves or free – and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.”

As we share in the holy meal of Communion with one another and with our Lord Jesus Christ, may the wind of the Spirit blow in and among us, and bind us together in unity and peace. And may the Spirit’s fire rest upon each one of us, and send us out with courage and power to use our many gifts for the work of God in the church and in the world. Amen.

I don’t know about you, but I sometimes get worried about whether we’re going to manage to pass on the Christian faith to the next generation. It’s kind of a critical task, you see… not only because the church won’t last very long if our children and our grandchildren don’t receive the faith and continue the work of the church. But perhaps most importantly, it’s kind of a critical task because it’s exactly what Jesus told his first followers that they were supposed to do.

As the book of Acts tells us, Jesus promised the power of the Holy Spirit and said, “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.

Those of you who have children or grandchildren of your own might spend even more time worrying about this problem than I do. You want your kids to learn the biblical stories of the faith. You want them to learn how to pray. You want to find a way to show them that God is real, to help them to know that God is present and active in the world, and that God is always there for them, and is always calling them to live in the way of Jesus.

Some of the worrying may have to do with not really knowing how to pass on the faith, or feeling guilty about maybe not having done enough already. Your kids may be getting older, and you’re wondering if it’s too late. Did you miss your opportunity?

Jesus’ commission to his followers may have sounded pretty challenging, as it certainly does to us: “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” But it’s possible that talking about God and faith and Jesus to a bunch of people that you don’t really know or feel connected to, is actually easier than trying to pass on your faith to your own family and the people you love.

Everyone in my family of origin has blue eyes. My father had blue eyes and blonde hair when he was a kid. My mother had blue eyes and blonde hair when she was a kid. And my brother, my sisters, and I all ended up with blue eyes and some shade of blonde or light brown hair too. It was something that we all inherited from my parents, without any particular effort on their part.

We also all ended up being pretty near-sighted too. You couldn’t have known that we’d all inherit that trait when we were young, but by the time we hit age 12 or 13 we were all squinting at the blackboards at school and starting to get headaches from the eye strain. If only we could pass on our faith as easily as passing on our long legs or our pointy noses to our biological children!

I’ve inherited a few other things too. I’ve inherited my mother’s talent for worrying and my father’s tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. And although we don’t always agree on every issue, I think I’ve inherited a lot of their values. We tend to vote the same way… and not because they suggested how I should vote as a young adult, or even hinted that I should follow their lead. But I guess I inherited some of their priorities, and their ways of thinking, and so we often come to the same conclusions about things.

In the first century, the apostle Paul was among the most prominent of Jesus’ followers who was doing his utmost to pass on the Christian faith. And when he had success, he was filled with joy. Writing to the new Christians in Ephesus, he said, “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love towards all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers.”

But he also knew that receiving the faith was not something that could happen in a moment and then be complete. It was a process of learning, growing, and living according to that faith. And the Christians at Ephesus, like any others would need his continuing support and encouragement if they were going to receive the Good News and pass it on both to their neighbours and to the next generations.

In today’s reading, Paul shares a wonderful prayer for the Ephesian Christians. He writes, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him…”

Wouldn’t that be a great prayer to pray for our children today? That they will be filled with the wisdom of God, that God will reveal God-self to them, that they will come to know God?

Paul continues… “so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which God has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe…”

A few years ago when we were visiting my husband’s parents in BC, my mother-in-law pulled out some lovely silver serving dishes which she had inherited from her mother and grandmother, and she asked me if I would like to have any of them. I guess she’d already asked all her other daughters-in-law, and as the newest one, it was my turn to have them offered to me. Well, I couldn’t imagine myself making good use of them or taking care of them with the proper regimen of polishing and proper storage, so I said, “Thanks, but no thanks”… just as all the daughters-in-law before me had done.

I wonder if I had grown up with those silver trays and dishes… I wonder if I had watched my own mother or grandmother looking after them, if I had learned to polish them with her, if I had seen the way that she treasured them, and sat with her drinking tea, enjoying special treats, and serving honoured guests… I wonder if that had been my experience, whether I would have wanted to have them, and keep them, and use them…

When it comes right down to it, passing on an inheritance takes two. It takes someone who wants to pass it on, and someone who wants to receive it. We cannot force the next generation to receive the gift of faith any more than they can receive it if no one takes the time to share with them the Good News.

Paul prays for the Ephesians that they may have the eyes of their hearts enlightened so that they may know the riches of God’s glorious inheritance. Now isn’t that a fitting prayer for our children and grandchildren? If they could somehow know that this church thing we do on Sundays is not just something we do to get out of the house and meet people… If they could somehow know that our religion is not just another thing that we happen to like doing, no different than joining a bowling league or going to Toast Masters…

If they could somehow know the riches of this glorious inheritance that we have received from our parents, or from our parents in the faith… If they could somehow know that it is God who gives meaning to our lives and helps us make sense of the world, that it is Christ who gives us direction when we are struggling with the most challenging decisions of our lives, that it is the Holy Spirit who fills us with hope and courage when the most difficult circumstances come our way…

If they could somehow know the riches of this glorious inheritance that is ours… then perhaps they might want to receive it from us, perhaps they might want to share it with us. There certainly aren’t any guarantees that the next generation of our children will take up the faith or that the church as we know it will survive. But there is a guarantee that Christ will be with us, and in us, and working through us as we take up the task of being his witnesses to the best of our abilities.

Let us also pray for one another, that the eyes of all our hearts may be enlightened, so that we may know the hope to which he has called us, that we may remember the riches of the glorious inheritance which we have received, and that we may trust in the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe. God’s Spirit, working in us and through us, has the power to do more than we would ever ask or imagine…. including passing on that glorious inheritance.

Remember to pray for all the commissioners, for the Moderator – the Rev. Rick Horst, for the local arrangements committee, for the national staff and all those involved in the General Assembly. Our commissioners from the Presbytery of Northern Saskatchewan are the Rev. Bev Shepansky and Lawrence Black from Mistawasis Memorial Presbyterian Church. Our Young Adult Representative is Logan de Bruijn from St. Andrew’s, Saskatoon.

Want to know more about what’s happening at General Assembly? Check out the General Assembly 2011 website to read the reports that are being considered and to get live news coverage.

Several stories in this sermon are borrowed from the book “Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian” by Thomas G. Long (San Francisco: 2004).

I’ve been reading a book this week called, “Testimony” by the American Presbyterian preacher, Thomas Long. Out of the various volumes that I brought home from my study leave last week, it seemed the most appropriate one to read as I was reflecting on this morning’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles.

Testimony is about bearing witness. It’s about using our voices to tell about what we have seen and heard and experienced of God in Jesus Christ. And testimony is a fundamental part of what Christians are called by Christ to do in the world.

Love God. Love our neighbours. And tell the world about God’s love in Jesus Christ. If we wanted to sum up our purpose… that would be a pretty good summary.

But at least within the mainline churches, and at least within the last several decades, we don’t do a lot of talking about our faith out loud. We don’t want to offend our neighbours or come across as pushing our religion on anyone, so we generally keep our mouths shut and we blend in with the rest of secular society.

I don’t think it’s that the average mainline Christian is lacking in faith. It’s just that most of us aren’t used to putting our faith into words. We’re not used to praying out loud where others can hear us, and we’re not used to giving testimony about what we have seen and heard and come to believe.

The strange phenomenon of the 1950’s in North America, in which more people than ever attended church on a regular basis might have something to do with it. For a short blip in history, Christians started to live like we were everyone… like everyone was Christian… like everyone went to church… like everyone knew about Jesus and his love.

Sure, we still had missionaries. But missionaries were especially gifted people who answered a call to travel to the farthest reaches of the world and to tell the good news to the poor people of those countries that had not heard. It’s just a theory. But I’m wondering if that’s a part of why talking about our faith is so challenging for us today… because there was a time (not so long ago) when we thought everyone already knew.

Well, the only way that people come to know God and God’s love in Jesus Christ is if we tell them… if we testify to our experience and tell them what we have seen and heard and what we believe.

Tom Long tells a story in his book about the day that Fred Rogers (of Mr. Rogers’ neighbourhood) had been invited to address the prestigious National Press Club in Washington. The National Press Club was accustomed to hearing speeches from diplomats, top administration officials, and key opinion makers on the top issues of the day, and some members of the press had privately joked that with “Mister Rogers” on the podium, they were probably in for a “light lunch.”

However, when Fred Rogers stood up to speak, he said that he knew the room was filled with many of the best reporters in the nation, men and women who had achieved much. Rogers then took out a pocket watch and announced that he was going to keep two minutes of silence, and he invited everybody in the room to remember people in their past – parents, teachers, coaches, friends, and others – who had made it possible for them to accomplish so much. And then Mister Rogers stood there, looking at his watch and saying nothing. The room grew quiet as the seconds ticked away, but before Fred Rogers tucked away his watch, one could hear all around the room people sniffling as they were moved by the memories of those who had made sacrifices on their behalf and who had given them many gifts.

Likewise, Long continues, if those of us who find meaning and comfort in the Christian faith were to take two minutes to reflect on how our faith came to be, few of us would say that we got it from a book, and none of us would say we thought it up on our own. Quickly or gradually, we would begin to remember the people who spoke to us about God. “Faith,” the Apostle Paul once observed, “comes from what is heard,” and that is true about our faith, too.

We heard and we believed; slowly or suddenly, in a moment of stillness or in a thunderstorm of passion, we believed. The faith we have, whether large or small, whether born of struggle or comfort, whether richly textured or barely patched together, whether grasped firmly or held onto be our fingernails, is a part of our lives because somebody along the way had the courage and the conviction to talk to us about God and about Jesus Christ.

It all started back in the first century, in a time and culture not so different from our own. I mean, not so different because in neither case was Christianity the norm. And in neither case was Christianity known and understood by the average person on the street. And though most people today wouldn’t say that they worship “other gods,” most of us do bow down to the gods of fashion and popularity, materialism and success. Our culture is not so different from the culture of Athens in the first century.

And the Apostle Paul got up and spoke to the people of Athens. He spoke to them with respect… acknowledging their religiosity and their interest in searching for the unknown god. And then he told them about the One God in whom Paul had come to believe, and how this God had been made known in Jesus Christ. Paul explained that God was the maker of everything in the world, but that God was also very close to us – like a loving parent. Using the poetry of Athens, he described this amazing God saying, “in him we live and move and have our being.”

Now, it would be logical to think that preachers and missionaries should learn to give speeches like Paul’s. And we do… though perhaps not as eloquently as he spoke that day. But I think that Tom Long is right when he suggests that testimony is a practice of faith that all Christians must learn. Most of us probably won’t be standing up in front of crowds of people and giving convincing speeches about our faith.

But as 1 Peter encourages us to remember, we should “always be ready to make [our] defence to anyone who demands from [us] an accounting for the hope that is in [us]…” and we should do it (as 1 Peter adds) “with gentleness and reverence.”

Let me share another story from Tom Long’s book: One morning some years ago, a young bookstore clerk named Deborah arrived at work early to open the shop. Standing at the door waiting for the store to open was a man dressed in the characteristic garments of a Hasidic Jew. As Deborah was unlocking the door, the man quietly asked if he could come in. She hesitated; it was nearly an hour before the store was supposed to open, but the man seemed polite and evidently needed something right away, so she decided to let him come in early. After turning on the lights, she said, “Would you like any help?”

Softly and with an accent he said, “Yes, I want to know about Jesus.” This was not an altogether surprising request, since the store specialized in books on religion. So Deborah guided the man upstairs to the shop’s ample section of books about Jesus. She pointed to shelves filled with scholarly volumes of Jesus research and books about the early history of Christianity. Then she turned to go back downstairs, but the man called her back.

“No,” he said, “I want to know about Jesus the Messiah. Don’t show me any more books. You tell me what you believe.” Was this man asking for interfaith dialogue? For spiritual counsel? For evangelism? Deborah was unsure. All she knew was that she was being asked what she had almost never been asked before: to put her faith into words.

“My Episcopal soul shivered,” she said later, recalling the encounter. “I gulped and told him everything I could think of… as much as I could sputter out in my confusion, in the dark.”

Deborah’s “Episcopal soul shivered,” and many of us, regardless of what denominational brand our souls happen to be, would shiver as well. If we were suddenly put in the position of having to express what we believe, many of us would also feel confused and in the dark.

Moreover, Deborah recognized that he conversation partner was himself a person of faith, which made visible a truth about all urgent speech: it must be spoken with tenderness and awareness of its impact on others. The man who talked with Deborah eventually chose to be baptized and became a Christian. Deborah was grateful, of course, for his spiritual awakening, but her gratitude was mixed with concern. She did not want what she had said to transgress delicate interfaith boundaries, and she did not want to be any part of any aggressive evangelistic techniques – “winning trophies for God,” as she put it. “I am not ashamed of my faith,” she wrote. “I am, and will always be, a Christian. But the God I catch glimpses of is a large-hearted God, one to whom all hearts are open. Spiritual arrogance is inexcusable.”

That’s a pretty blatant example of a Christian being invited – even pressed – to testify… to give an accounting for the hope that was in her. Maybe you can relate to that. Maybe something similar has happened to you, either with someone who was curious about your beliefs, or maybe with someone who was challenging them.

Were you ready for that conversation? Or did your Presbyterian soul shiver? And did you speak, or did you find a way to avoid the conversation?

Tom Long suggests that church (and worship, in particular) should be a training ground for testimony. In preaching and prayer and praise, we should be learning the language of faith. We should be getting used to the sound of the words of faith rolling off our tongues. We should be preparing for all the conversations that we will have this week out in the world.

All the God-talk that we do in here should be getting us ready to talk about God wherever we go… not beating it over the heads of the people we meet at work or in the grocery store… but nonetheless talking about God with gentleness and reverence.

Most of the opportunities won’t be as obvious as someone coming up and saying, “Tell me about Jesus the Messiah.” And so we’ll need to pay close attention as we get ready to speak about our faith in God.

One final story: In 1986, a woman named Susan decided to take a spring course at the local community college. Checking the catalogue, she spotted an offering titled “U.S. Foreign Policy: 1945 to the Present.” She’d never ventured into politics, and she thought this course might stretch her. It met in the evening, once a week, so it looked convenient, interesting, and challenging. She enrolled. At the first meeting of the course, she was surprised to discover that she and the professor were the only American citizens in the class. The dozen or so other class members were all international students, some of them taking the course as part of the process of becoming naturalized citizens of the United States.

The course moved along well until mid-April, when newspaper headlines announced that the U.S. military had carried out a bombing raid against Libya, resulting in the deaths of several dozen people. President Reagan said that the air attack was a direct response to the bombing one month earlier of a German nightclub in which American soldiers had been killed and Libyan agents were suspects. Public opinion strongly supported Reagan, viewing the air raids as an appropriate and needed retaliation against Libya and its leaders.

The professor began the next meeting of the class by saying, “We have seen in the news this week a controversial expression of U.S. foreign policy. What reactions do you have?” The students were silent as stones. Finally Susan hesitantly ventured a response. “My husband and I disagree about this,” she said, “but I don’t think America should have done the bombing.”

A young Asian woman in the class looked dumbstruck. “You are the only American I have heard say anything like that,” she stammered. “Are you a revolutionary?”
“No,” Susan snapped. “I’m a Republican.”
“Then why,” asked the woman, “why are you against the bombing of Libya?”

Susan said later that she was tempted to respond, “Hey, it’s a free country. Everybody’s entitled to an opinion,” but she sense that something was at stake here, that something about the situation called for a deeper, more honest response.

“The reason why I disapprove of the bombing,” Susan said, “is because of my Christian faith. I know we cannot make foreign policy out of the New Testament, but we are told to ‘repay no one evil for evil,’ and I just can’t rest easy with this.” What followed was a spirited and probing conversation, involving the whole class, on balancing love and justice, peace and security, national loyalties and faith commitments, all because the window opened and Susan decided to speak.

It was an amazing week… filled with beautiful worship, inspiring preaching, informative lectures, and so many interesting conversations with ministers from across North America. I spent Monday to Friday last week in Minneapolis at the Festival of Homiletics (that’s a fancy word for preaching) and I got to listen to some of the best preachers and teachers of preaching of our time.

We heard Barbara Brown Taylor, Thomas Long, Walter Brueggeman, Anna Carter Florence, Otis Moss III, and many more, as well as lectures by Diana Butler Bass and Brian McLaren. I don’t know if these names mean anything to you or not. But trust me, these are the big names in preaching today… and we were absolutely inundated with fantastic sermons and lectures on preaching all week.

The conference ended on Friday at noon, after an absolutely wonderful worship service at the huge Lutheran Church in downtown Minneapolis where the largest events were being held. They told us there were 1700 pastors at the conference, and when we all got together, we filled the church almost to capacity. When we sang together, it was a huge swell of sound such that we didn’t really need the help of the organ to lead us. It was like a giant massed choir that seemed to need no rehearsal as we blended our voices together to sing some familiar and many new hymns of our shared faith in Christ.

Some of you are probably going to think I’m weird, but I loved the pattern of the days in Minneapolis. In addition to two or three lectures on preaching, we gathered for worship four times every day. And I don’t mean short little 10-15 minute opening and closing prayers. Every service lasted about an hour with at least a 20-30 minute sermon as part of it. And despite the weariness that can start to set in by the end of a conference, we were still staying awake through those sermons! They were interesting and relevant and insightful, and they made us both laugh and cry. If we could have stayed for another week, I think most of us would have.

But the week sped by, and soon Friday morning was coming to a close with a beautiful Communion liturgy and 1700 pastors coming forward to receive the bread and wine by intinction. And then it was time for me to say good-bye to some new and some old friends, to kill some time at the Mall of America, and then to head to the airport and home to Saskatoon.

It felt kind of strange walking around the mall that afternoon. It was one of those giant malls with an amusement park and an aquarium and a comedy club. I kind of felt like I was re-entering the world after having retreated from it for five days. I was no longer surrounded by pastors and preachers who wanted to do nothing more than worship, sing, pray, and listen to sermons together. Now I was back to the everyday realities of our society – to the hustle and bustle of mothers with strollers, teenagers hanging out, sales people working hard to offer their free samples, and crowds of people hurrying to their destinations with bags of new purchases in hand.

After checking out a portion of the massive mall, I found an arm chair in an open area and sat down thinking, “I really should start thinking about my sermon for Sunday.” What was God calling me to say this week to a congregation of faithful people who were living in the world… not exactly the “Mall of America” world, but also not the world that I had been living in at the Festival of Homiletics.

I reflected on all the amazing preaching that I had heard throughout the week, and I wondered about how that might influence my preaching this Sunday. Would it make a difference? Did I learn any new techniques or take away any good ideas that would actually help me to share God’s life-changing and relevant Word in the context in which we live?

It’s one thing to spend a week listening to the experts preach and appreciating their skill. But it’s quite a different thing to come back home and try to put those lessons into practice in the real world. Not one of those excellent preachers was willing to come home with me to help me figure out what to say to you today! Well, I didn’t actually ask them to, but I’m fairly sure that they would have said no.

I wonder if Jesus’ disciples were feeling something like I was as their master’s ministry was drawing to a close. They had been travelling with Jesus for some time now… not just one amazing week, but maybe a year or two, or even three. They too had heard some amazing sermons, and they’d witnessed some spectacular events. They had devoted their days to following along with Jesus’ group, and they’d left their families and their jobs behind so that they wouldn’t miss a thing. They had watched and listened, and struggled with his stories and his ideas. They had hung on all his words and tried to soak up as much wisdom as they could.

But by the time we get to Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel text, the disciples are starting to come to terms with the fact that this very special time of travelling with Jesus of Nazareth is coming to an end. And as much as they would prefer to avoid or at least delay the inevitable, their leader is making it clear that he is going to be gone and they are going to have to continue his work.

Now, Jesus DOESN’T tell his followers that they’ll get a PORTION of his power and authority so that they can preach a few little sermons and do a bit of good in the world. He doesn’t let them go thinking, “Well, I won’t be able to do what I saw and heard Jesus doing, but I’ll do my best and hopefully I won’t mess up too badly.”

No, Jesus says to his friends, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me [the one who has faith in me, who trusts in me] will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”

Jesus predicted that his followers… Peter and Mary, Thomas and Paul… Patti and Leslie, Judy and Trudy and Joan, Logan and Walter, Elizabeth, Tanyss, Alice and Lydia and… Well, you get the idea… Jesus predicted that his followers (that WE) would do the works that he did and, in fact, we would do even greater works than these.

If someone had told me in the middle of last week that I would come home to Saskatoon and preach a better or greater sermon than Barbara Brown Taylor or Thomas Long, I would have said, “Oh ya, right… sure I will…” I can’t imagine even my best work measuring up to the creativity and eloquence that I heard from those masters in Minneapolis.

So how could the disciples of the Lord possibly imagine their ministry measuring up to the wonder and power and wisdom and grace of Jesus’ words and work in the world? They must have thought that he was crazy to be suggesting that what they would do after his departure would be even greater than what he did during his ministry.

After all, what HE did changed the course of history and transformed the world! As John’s Gospel explains it, “God’s Word became flesh and lived among us” and Jesus revealed God’s very presence in the world, calling all people to return to relationship with the God of love and grace and goodness.

But what Jesus’ first disciples were just discovering, and what followers of Jesus today so often forget is that God’s Word made flesh in Jesus of Nazareth was just the beginning of the incarnation. It was a high point… that’s for sure. It was a moment of revelation in which God’s people were beginning to understand that God is not a distant God who watches and judges from above. They were starting to realize that God is with us, and in us, and between us creating communities of caring and concern, welcome and sharing, right where we live.

But as Jesus prepared for his inevitable death and departure, he tried to explain to his followers that his physical absence from their community would not mean God’s absence. The Spirit of God would come to them to comfort them in their grief, but also to fill them, to equip them, and to guide them in carrying on Jesus’ work. The Spirit of God would live within and between them so that these fishermen and tax collectors and women would BECOME the very presence of God in the world. They (and WE) would BE the body of Christ in the world. And through our many hands and feet, ears and hearts and voices throughout God’s world, we would do even greater works than Jesus did.

The 1700 pastors with whom I gathered last week likely all experienced the Festival of Homiletics as a gift and an inspiration. Many of us came home with copious notes and books, and some purchased CD’s of their favourite presentations. But no matter how much we may try to hang on to that experience, or how much we might wish for an expert to give us the words for our Sunday morning sermons, we have to trust that it will be God’s Spirit that goes with us into the world and who equips us to do the greater works in our particular communities and contexts.

Today’s Gospel passage is one that is often selected for funeral services. That’s probably why it sounds so familiar to many of us. Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places [there are many rooms. And] I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you.”

It’s reassuring, isn’t it? When you are nearing the end of your life, or when someone you love has died, this text may give you hope and comfort in the midst of your sadness and grief.

But Jesus wasn’t preaching to a bunch of dying disciples. He was the one who was going to die. They were going to run and hide from the mounting danger, and they were going to live… at least for a while longer. And so even though I appreciate the comfort and encouragement that Jesus’ words offer to us in the face of death, I think that they are PRIMARILY instructions for us as followers in the middle of life.

“I’m going to die,” Jesus is telling his friends, “and you’re going to live. But you’re going to need to live like I did. You’re going to need to live my way. And that means that you can’t be held back by your fear of death.”

“You noticed that about me, didn’t you?… How I spoke my mind… how I spoke the truth? Even when I knew that the words were going to get me into trouble with some pretty powerful people, I didn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“If you can do that… if you can follow my way, and speak my truth, and live my life… then you will carry on my work and do even greater things than I have done.”

“The key to all of this is that you’ve got to trust God. You’ve got to have faith in me. And since faith comes as a gift from God, I know that you’re going to do just fine. You’re going to do wonderful things!”

For disciples like Stephen in the early years of Christianity, speaking the truth about God’s love in Jesus Christ literally led to his death. While they were stoning him, Stephen followed the example of Jesus, asking God to forgive the attackers and to receive his spirit. And like so many other martyrs throughout history, we get the impression that Stephen went to his death without fear. He trusted God, and he was not afraid, and that is great.

But what is so much more important than how Stephen died is how Stephen lived. And he lived his life (however brief) without fear. He lived with freedom because of Jesus’ promise and because of the gift of faith to live and to serve, to preach and to witness without fear of what might be done to him. And that is the way of Jesus that we are invited to follow.

As a preacher, I know it means that I can’t get stuck worrying about whether my sermons will be as spectacular as the experts. And it means that I can’t get caught up with concerns about whether my preaching will either keep everyone happy or get me into trouble.

But this message is not just for preachers. As the people of God, we are all called (as 1 Peter reminds us) to proclaim the mighty acts of God who called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

We are called to proclaim it in our words and in our actions, in our churches and in our families, workplaces, schools, communities and friendship circles. We are called to speak the truth and work for justice and goodness. We are called to use our hands to reach out to people who are in trouble, to use voices to speak up for what is right, and to use our ears to listen for the cries of those who have been left behind or left out. We are called to engage with the world around us, to witness to God’s presence and love within it, and to do all this with the help of the Spirit and without fear.

Thomas was confused by Jesus’ words about going ahead to prepare a place for his followers. He didn’t know where Jesus was going to, and he didn’t know how to get there. I suppose Thomas was like so many of us today when we get caught up in a religion of figuring out what we can believe and what we can do so that God will welcome us into heaven.

But I really think Jesus was telling his disciples, “Don’t worry about death. Don’t worry about heaven. Just focus your attention and your energy on the life that I have given to you today, and do your best to live like me. Trust God, and live without fear. And you will do the works that I do and, in fact, you will do greater works than these.”

“Ambassadors and Assignments” (2 Corinthians 5:11-21)

Beloved congregation of our Lord Jesus Christ

You may wonder why I began the sermon with this particular greeting. This phrase is not mine. My father, who was a minister in the Protestant Church in the Netherlands, always began his sermons by saying: Beloved congregation of our Lord Jesus Christ. And I think that we all know, deep down in our hearts, that this is what we really and truly are.

But, how did we become Christ’s beloved congregation? When Jesus was on earth, he called twelve people to be his disciples. They stayed with him during the years of his public ministry. Before Jesus went up to be with God, he commanded his disciples to spread the Good News, he had taught them, saying: All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always to the end of the earth. (Matthew 28:18-20b.)

The disciples directed their mission efforts first to their fellow Jews. Gradually, they began to reach out to the Jewish communities outside their own country. However, they did not seem to see the need to reach out to the Gentiles. Peter was reluctant to go and visit the Roman centurion in Philippi.  And Christ himself had to convince Saul that he had been chosen to bring the good news to the gentiles, the non-Jews. Yet, it took some time before the twelve apostles accepted Paul’s ministry to the gentiles.

But the Gospel News began to spread through the missionary activities of the apostles. Christian churches were established, first in Asia Minor, then in Rome and then further in all the lands conquered by the Romans.  And as the centuries went by, the gospel was preached all over the world.

The Roman Catholic Church sent out missionary priests as far away as China. And in the early 1600s, the mission work among the Huron people in our country began. The Huron carol: ‘T was in the moon of wintertime, reminds of that early mission work in Canada.

In the late 1800s, the Protestants churches became involved in mission work, sending missionaries all over the world. They did wonderful work building churches, schools and hospitals. Some worked diligently for many years to translate the Bible into native languages. Others worked in the field of agriculture to improve native nutrition.

But mission work did not come to an end, when St. Andrew’s became a Beloved Congregation of our Lord Jesus Christ. The mission work continued. Through our gifts to Presbyterian Sharing, the Presbyterian World Service & Development and the Women’s Missionary Society we support the mission work of our national church. The Presbyterian Church in Canada is a small denomination. Yet, its mission work is quite comprehensive. We are involved in International Ministries and Canada Ministries.

Internationally, missionaries are working in: Guatemala, Granada, Malawi, Kenya, Nigeria, Romania, Ukraine, Hungary, Taiwan and India. Canada ministries involves creating new ministries, renewing ministries, sustaining ministries, supporting specialized ministries such as Inner-City Ministries and Native Ministries. And our national church supports Chaplaincies @ at least 10 universities.

If I have confused you by now, take heart. At the table in the narthex are copies of the booklet Stories of Mission. (Show booklet) They are free. So take one on your way out If the pile is gone by the time you are ready to pick one up, let me know. I will contact the office of the WMS in Toronto, and ask them to mail me more booklets.

Another way to become informed about the mission work of our church is to read the mission magazine, called Glad Tidings. There are a few copies of this magazine on the table as well and they are also free. The WMS office could only provide me with a few copies. When they are gone, that’s it. But why not subscribe to Glad Tidings? A yearly subscription will cost you only $14.00. Do talk to Yoka de Bruijn and she will happily sign you up.

You could also join the Hildur Hermanson WMS. We meet every third Monday evening of the month for study and fellowship from September till June @ 7.30 in the library. You can all join us. Although we are called a women’s society, men are most welcome to become a members.

The most expensive way of learning about the mission work of our church is to go on a Mission Exposure Tour. These tours are a joint effort by the PCC and the W.M.S. An exposure tour is not an action tour. Participants are not going to a mission field to build a school or to dig a well. They go to observe the work missionaries are engaged in on our behalf.

We just heard Helen Foss read to us from the second letter to the Corinthians, where is says: So, we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.

It is not customary in the church to use the term ambassadors. How should we then interpret these words for us in our time, in our secular 21st century? Let us reflect a bit on this. What are the characteristics of an ambassador?

A definition which first comes to mind is that an ambassador is a diplomat, living abroad in an embassy. Such a person has been asked by a government to go and live in a foreign country and be its representative. An ambassador is thus someone who has been sent to represent the government.

The text states that we are ambassadors for Christ. Just as an ambassador represents a government, we have been asked to represent the government of the Kingdom of God. And it is God who reigns in that Kingdom. Who do we then represent? We represent God.

Representing God? When that thought takes hold of us, we become both awestruck and afraid. And we are quick to respond by asking: How can I do this? What does it involve? Do I have to become a missionary? Must I leave my comfortable home, my job, my lifestyle? Go to a mission field? Me?

Those questions show how frightened we are to be sent out. That is quite understandable, but is it the right answer? Is that what God expects? I don’t think so.

How should we then reply? We could say that we give weekly or monthly to the mission work of the church. Or that we serve on the session or on a committee. That should count for something!

The scripture passage states that God has reconciled the world onto himself. Our gracious Lord has forgiven humankind. God was “not counting their trespasses against them.” Then the writer pleads with us to become reconciled to God.

But then what? Where does this lead to? Those questions lead us to a difficult part of our text, where it says that God … has given us the ministry of reconciliation; That is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.

Entrusting the message of reconciliation to us? Yes, that message is entrusted to us. But what are we supposed to do with it?

It is entrusted to us, but it is not ours to keep or to hoard. We may not stockpile it. It ought to be shared. And in sharing we will become more and more like the people God wants us to be: kind, caring, compassionate, sympathetic, loving and concerned. God trusts us with that special ministry. What an honour, what a privilege!

God says to us: I trust you; I trust that you are willing and capable to share my grace and love with my world. We may agree with God that we are willing. But capable, that is something else. Of that we are not so sure.

In fact, we may not feel capable at all! We feel like trying to get out of this. Like saying: Please, God, don’t single me out, no, not me. But God does not give up on us. God knows we cannot do this alone. God promises to help us to carry out this ministry. We do not have to do this all by ourselves. In love and grace God sends the Holy Spirit to enable us to share message of reconciliation.

How do we go about it? Will it be difficult? Must one be a saint to do this?

I don’t think so. It is not too difficult. When we encounter other people while riding the bus, in the office, at school, when shopping, or going out for a walk, we should always realize that God sees them as human beings to be loved, to be valued, to be treasured and to be ministered to.

And so we must imitate God. We are to be mindful of our fellow human beings, regardless of nationality, race or colour. We must meet them in love and compassion. We become God-fearing people to whom the ministry of reconciliation has been entrusted. We humbly accept this position.

To be appointed as an ambassador is a great honour, graciously given to us by God. But how do we become humble? We find the answer to this question in the Old Testament, in the prophet Micah. He writes: He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8b)

Walk then humbly with God! May the Holy Spirit work in our hearts, making us willing to reach out in loving kindness to all our neighbours, to those that are close by and to those that live far away! To those known to us as friends, but also to those known as enemies! Amen.

• Fri. May 13th at 11 a.m. - Prayer Group meets in the parlour. Everyone is welcome to join in this time of reflection on scripture and prayer for our own concerns and the needs of the church and the world.

• Sat. May 14th at 7:30 p.m. – Margaret Wilson (clarinet) and Gillian Lyons (piano) in Concert. This is the CD release recital for “Weber to Tango.” Tickets are $15 or $10 for students/seniors.

• Sun. May 15th at 11:00 a.m. – The Hildur Hermanson Women’s Missionary Society leads worship for “Mission Awareness Sunday.”

• Tues. May 17th at 7:30 p.m. - Helen Kashap piano recital.

• Fri. May 20th at 7:30 p.m. – Gustin House presents William Lewans (baritone) and Gregory Schulte (piano) in concert. Tickets are $25 or $20 for students. Pre-concert chat at 6:45 p.m.

• Fri. May 27th at 11:00 a.m. – Prayer Group meets in the parlour.

• Sun. May 29th following worship - Carol Kostiuk, Parish Nurse at Augustana Lutheran Church, will speak about her ministry for about 15 minutes. This will be followed by lunch, served by the Youth Group, and the Annual Program Meeting.

• Sun. June 5th at 11:00 a.m. – Church School Wind-Up and an Old-Fashioned Congregational Picnic following worship. Come to church in comfortable clothing. Lunch will be a pot luck picnic with BBQ hot dogs, ice cream and drinks provided. Games, singing, and fun for all ages!

• Fri. June 10th at 11:00 a.m. – Prayer Group meets in the parlour.

• Sun. June 12th at 11:00 a.m. – Pentecost Sunday with a celebration of Holy Communion.

• Fri. June 17th at 10:00 a.m. – The Presbytery of Northern Saskatchewan meets at Camp Christopher.

• Sat. June 18th – The Worship Committee hosts a Labyrinth Retreat Day in Meota.
• Sun. June 19th following worship – Congregational meeting for the election of new elders to St. Andrew’s Session, as well as consideration of the ministry description for a pastoral care nurse for St. Andrew’s

• Fri. June 24th at 11:00 a.m. – Prayer Group meets in the parlour.

• Sat. July 2nd, noon – 3 p.m. – Open House at Camp Christopher, including a BBQ and worship around 2 p.m.

• July 6 – 9 - The Prairie Centre for Ecumenism hosts the 2011 Summer Ecumenical Institute at Lutheran Theological Seminary. Theme: “From Dialogue to Common Mission.” For details and a registration form go to Ecumenism in Canada.

I have always appreciated Luke’s story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. It’s a story of disappointment turning into possibility, of sadness turning into hope, of loneliness turning into friendship, of confusion turning into understanding. It’s a story about an ending becoming a new beginning, of disciples who were wandering away returning with great hope and purpose.

An interesting point that has been noted in the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is that only one of them is named. The author of Luke’s Gospel tells us about two disciples “who were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem.” One of them, we are told, was named Cleopas. The other is not named.

Now, it’s not that unusual in the Gospels to encounter characters that are not named. Yes, we meet many of Jesus’ disciples by name: Simon, Andrew, Matthew, John, and Mary Magdalene, just to name a few. But then we hear about others identified as “a blind man,” “a sinful woman,” or “the woman at the well.”

Some have pointed out that the women in the Gospels are disproportionately left unnamed. The classic example is the woman in Mark’s Gospel who anoints Jesus at Bethany. Some of those who were there scolded the unnamed woman for wasting such precious ointment. But Jesus thanked her and praised her for what she did. And he said, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” And still, we don’t know what her name was.

And so it has been suggested that the other disciple on the road to Emmaus might have been a woman. Maybe it was Cleopas and Mrs. Cleopas, on their way back home to Emmaus after the disappointment of Jesus’ arrest and execution. And as they walked along they were talking and discussing with each other, as couples often do, the strange, upsetting, and confusing events of their visit to Jerusalem for the Passover Festival.

I like the idea that the other disciple might have been a woman because I like to think that in the early days of Christianity, men and women were exploring and discovering an emerging faith in the risen Christ together. Jesus appeared to some women in the garden, and the men didn’t believe them. Jesus appeared to the men in a locked room, and they started to believe. And Jesus appeared to a couple on the road to Emmaus, and they were so happy and excited that they walked the whole seven miles back to Jerusalem to share the news with their friends.

But someone else has suggested that one of the disciples on the road may not be named for another reason – not because the author couldn’t remember what the guy was called, and not because a woman’s name wasn’t deemed to be very important. But there is the idea that the unnamed disciple can leave the readers free to use our own imaginations.

Could the Gospel writer be inviting us to place ourselves into the story?… to imagine ourselves on the road with Cleopas, at the end of the disastrous week in Jerusalem, walking away in confusion and disappointment, and wondering what to do next?

Most of us know what it feels like to have a disastrous week. And so imagining ourselves on the road to Emmaus, perhaps we can picture what our reaction would have been like.

Some of us would have been angrily ranting about the injustice of Jesus’ arrest and the arbitrary release of Barrabas instead of our friend Jesus. We would have been complaining about the torturous method of execution that the Romans used, and arguing that there was really no evidence of Jesus having done anything to warrant execution in the first place.

Others of us would have been responding more quietly. Instead of anger, we would have simply felt overwhelmed by sadness and disappointment. We thought Jesus was going to be our Saviour, and we must have been wrong… ‘cause now he’s dead and his movement is over. We feel stupid, and embarrassed, and just sad.

Still others of us would have been just torn up inside about what happened. We would keep replaying the events of the week in our minds, trying to imagine what we could have done to prevent such a terrible outcome. What could we have said or done to save Jesus from that horrible death? Could we have convinced him to run? Could we have done something to help him? We would be wracked with guilt and regret and despair.

As the disciples walked along the road that day, they were talking with each other about all the things that had happened. And as they talked and discussed, Jesus himself came near and went with them. It would be convenient if whenever Jesus came near to us, he would just LOOK LIKE JESUS, but that’s not the way Jesus works… at least not the risen Christ.

They walked along, talking and discussing, and Jesus walked with them, but they didn’t recognize him. He asked them what they were discussing, and they told him about their experience in Jerusalem. Together, they discussed the scriptures, the law and the prophets, and he reminded them about the Messiah that they were expecting God to send.

And though they didn’t even realize it at first, the disciples were being transformed. They were being converted. They were coming to a new understanding of God and Christ, and their own identity as children of God and disciples of Christ.

And I’m wondering… If today’s Gospel text invites us to place ourselves within the story… to imagine ourselves as disciples on the road with Jesus… Then we must ask ourselves, “Are we walking through life and faith as if we know all the answers already? Or can we open our minds and our hearts to hear and to understand new ideas or new perspectives?”

When in our lives do we take the time to study the scriptures, to read some theology, to talk and discuss our faith – including our questions and our doubts – with our friends, with fellow believers, or even with the strangers that we may encounter along the way? If we are to be transformed – to be converted – it will only happen if we are open to those conversations – if we are open to listen, to learn, and even to change to a new direction.

But the theological discussion on the road was not the whole of the encounter with Jesus that day. Perhaps if the story had ended there, the story might never have been told… Because it wasn’t until the disciples were sitting at the dinner table with the stranger that they suddenly recognized that Christ was present with them.

Without knowing that it was Jesus, they had invited the stranger to stay with them in Emmaus – to rest and to share a meal. That kind of hospitality would not have been exceptional. It was a normal part of the culture to welcome and feed a traveller on their way through town. And as disciples of Jesus, these two had likely been on the receiving end of this hospitable practice more times than they could count.

But as they sat down with the stranger, and he blessed and broke the bread, they remembered Jesus and the many meals they had shared with him. Perhaps the memory of his words came flooding back: “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup… Do this in remembrance of me… This is my body, which is given for you.”

And the story says that suddenly their eyes were opened and they recognized him. It seems odd to think that if the stranger looked at all like Jesus that they wouldn’t have noticed until then. But maybe he didn’t look like Jesus. He just looked like a stranger. But in the welcoming, the blessing, the sharing and remembering, Jesus’ disciples could suddenly see that Christ was truly present with them. He’d been with them in their grieving and their grappling, and he was with them as they shared bread together, just as he had been so many times before.

Imagining ourselves within the story, we are invited to look for Christ’s presence within the ordinary encounters of our lives. When we welcome a stranger, when we share food with someone who is hungry, or when we allow someone to care for us when we need it, Christ is with us. And when we celebrate the Sacrament of Holy Communion, it is so much more than simply a memorial for one who died for us. But it is a holy meal hosted by one who was raised from death and is present with us here and now. Perhaps in that sharing our eyes will be opened too, and we will recognize him.

As the story continues, it becomes clear that the lives of these two disciples have been radically turned around by their encounter with the risen Christ on the road and at the table. It has been good to study and discuss, and to understand more fully. It has been a blessing to share food together, and to experience Christ’s presence. But Cleopas and the other disciple do not linger there… reflecting some more, discussing and sharing. Instead, they get up and go! “That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem… [and] they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”

Getting up and going… going out and telling… that may be the most difficult part of the story in which to imagine ourselves. We don’t think of ourselves as evangelicals, even if the word “evangelical” just means “sharing the good news about Jesus Christ.” It may seem daunting to think that you might have to explain your faith to someone else – to put your experience of the risen Christ into words. But we are, indeed, called to do that.

But I think that the three steps in the story are in that order for a reason… First – scripture study, discussion, and conversion to faith in Christ, Second – experience of the risen Christ, in worship and in our daily lives, Third – witness to the risen Christ.

If you haven’t done the first and second step (or at least begun to do them) then no, you’re probably not ready to do the third one. If it scares you half to death to think about putting your faith into words, it could be because you first need to do some exploring and studying and reflecting on Christ and your own faith. But even the most theologically-educated, even the most spiritually-mature Christian, may still feel a little apprehensive about going out and sharing the Gospel.

But I think it’s interesting that BEFORE Jesus’ disciples started preaching the Gospel far and wide, they got together and told each other about the experiences they were having of the risen Christ. They began by sharing their faith within the community of believers. They noticed how similar all their stories were sounding. And eventually, Jesus sent them to go out and tell the world the good news. So maybe that’s where we need to start… just by witnessing to each other, just by telling each other what we understand and what we have experienced.

This morning I want to invite you to make a new commitment on your journey as a disciple. But it’s up to you to decide what that commitment will be. During the hymn, I’m going to pass around some baskets of yarn. And I want you to take a piece of yarn to remind you of the commitment that you are making today.

Take a piece of blue yarn if you want to open your mind and heart to learn and grow in your faith and understanding of Christ. (Think of blue as committing yourself to be as open as the blue sky is wide.) Maybe you will study the bible more, or read some theological material. Maybe you will take a class, join in a study, or engage in a conversation about faith. Take a piece of blue yarn if you want to commit to opening your mind and your heart to conversion.

Take a piece of red yarn if you want to commit yourself to offering hospitality. (Think of red as opening your heart and your life to a stranger.) And open your heart to the presence of Christ in those with whom you will share. Take a piece of red yarn if you want to commit to offering hospitality.

Take a piece of white yarn if you want to commit yourself to witnessing to the risen Christ with another believer. (Think of white as the colour of new life and resurrection from the dead.) Take a piece of white yarn if you want to commit to sharing your experience of the risen Christ in your life.

Invitation to Commitment:
So come and follow Jesus,
you who have committed yourselves already,
and you who would like to do so for the first time;
you who have given yourselves to the care of creation
and to the suffering ones of the world,
and you who feel moved by the Spirit
to begin to offer yourselves;
you who have been faithful in your life commitments
and you who have failed.
Come, for our Lord invites us to follow him,
and to make new beginnings in our lives. Amen.

Come and enjoy great company, pick up some delicious home baking, and for just $3.50 you will get a scrumptious dessert and coffee or tea. Also check out the Youth Table at the Tea. One person’s trash may be your treasure!

There are stories that get told every year at Knox College (where I went to seminary) about the ghosts that have been seen over the years in the academic wing of the building. People have spotted them numerous times in the chapel, in the classrooms, and especially in the library. One student, who studied at Knox a couple of years before I did, described in great detail the appearance of a ghost who seemed to walk right through her as she stood in the hallway late one night.

According to the stories, library staff have often noted one particular chair which is always pulled out when they arrive in the morning, and a series of books that mysteriously find their way back to that desk. Some say that the ghost must be a doctoral student who died before completing his thesis.

As compelling as some of these stories may be, especially when told with dramatic detail and suspense, when I heard them, I was sceptical. I just don’t believe in ghosts. They don’t fit in with my understanding of the world. People are either alive or they’re dead. And as much as I believe in eternal life, I don’t think it involves disembodied people floating around old buildings or trying to finish uncompleted dissertations.

The Easter story – the story of Jesus’ resurrection – his rising from the dead – is similarly unbelievable. It was Sunday night, the same day that Mary Magdalene said she saw Jesus alive and outside the tomb. The disciples were understandably freaked out. Their leader had been horribly killed, they had deserted him, and now Mary was claiming that he wasn’t dead anymore!

Gathering inside a house, they locked all the doors, and probably worried about what to do next. But suddenly, Jesus stood among them. He appeared out of nowhere, and appropriately greeted the shaking disciples with the words… “Peace be with you.”

If I wasn’t a Christian and hadn’t heard this story before, I would have plenty of possible explanations for Jesus’ sudden appearance… It was a magic trick… a hologram… a hallucination… some kind of special effect. Perhaps I might say that the disciples must have been hysterical or dillusional.

Anyway, I wouldn’t believe it. And that’s why it seems harsh to me for us to call the disciple who wasn’t there to witness Jesus’ first appearance “Doubting Thomas”. After all, wouldn’t I have doubted too if I had been in his place? Wouldn’t I have asked to see and touch for myself before I would consent to believe in such a ludicrous tale? If I wouldn’t believe in the studious ghost of the Knox College library, why would I believe in this Jesus raised from death?

And so Thomas would not believe it. When his friends said “We have seen the Lord.” Thomas replied: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hand, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

This guy wanted real proof. He wanted to see and touch and be sure of the reality of the physical Jesus before he could be convinced. And Jesus doesn’t disappoint him. It’s only a week later when Jesus appears again. He does a repeat performance, and this time, it seems that he’s come just for the sake of Thomas.

Once again, he stands among the gathered disciples and says: “Peace be with you.” And then the rest of the conversation is between Jesus and Thomas: Jesus says: “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”

Thomas wanted proof, and Jesus gave him proof. Or at least, Thomas wanted to see for himself, and Jesus came back again to invite Thomas to see, and to touch, and to experience the presence of the risen Lord for himself.

As much as the story of Jesus appearing in the upper room for Thomas is a great story all on its own, whenever we read the stories of the Gospels, we must take note of the context in which we find them. Each of the Gospels is somewhat different from the others. Put together within its own early Christian community, and written for its own unique purpose.

The Gospel of John, the only one of the Gospels that contains this story of Jesus with Thomas, has its own particular focus. The author of the book put together his collection of Jesus stories and sayings for a particular audience and a particular purpose, and it shows. In the final verses of the chapter we read today, the author even tells us what that purpose is: “So that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”

The Gospel of John is a collection of stories, signs, and wonders, put together so that its readers might come to believe in Jesus the Christ. All through the Gospel, we have stories of people struggling to understand who Jesus is, and Jesus trying to show them that he is God’s son. It’s all about a movement from doubt to faith, from scepticism to belief in Jesus the Messiah.

What convinces them? What moves them from their scepticism? What makes them think that this Jesus is not just a crazy travelling preacher who thinks he’s God’s son? What makes them start actually believing that Jesus really is that special – that Jesus really is from God?

Well, in the Gospel of John we read that…. Nathaniel believed because Jesus knew his name without asking. The disciples first believed because Jesus turned water into wine. The woman at the well believed because Jesus told her everything she’d ever done. A royal offical in Cana (& all his family) believed because Jesus healed his son. In chapter 7, we read that… many people in the crowds believed because of the signs that Jesus did. A man born blind was healed by Jesus, and when the Pharisees questioned him about it, he too was convinced that Jesus must be from God. The crowd standing around Lazarus’ tomb believed because they saw Jesus raise him from the dead. And now, Mary Magdalene, Thomas, and the other disciples believe when they see the risen Jesus standing in their midst, when they hear his words of peace, when they receive the Holy Spirit from him.

The author of the Gospel of John wrote all these Jesus stories down so that those who read them might believe. Is it convincing? Are you convinced by what you read in John’s Gospel? They are great stories. But you know, I’ve read too many stories and watched too much T.V. to be convinced by stories alone. Who’s to say that they’re true stories? There’s nothing to make me sure that they’re authentic any more than I might be inclined to believe the ghost stories.

But I stand before you today as one who believes in the truth of the stories of the bible — as one who believes that Jesus was and is the Son of God — the one sent into the world from God — the one who was killed by his own people, but didn’t stay dead! I believe that God raised Jesus up to a new kind of life – an eternal life with God. And I believe that this Jesus gives us the promise and the hope of joining him in that eternal life when we die. I believe it — and so do many of you. Why are we convinced?

Well, when Thomas missed Jesus’ appearance, he said that “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” He needed to see and experience the risen Jesus for himself. Only then would he believe. Jesus gave him the experience he needed so that he could believe, and Jesus will do the same for us.

I’m going to tell you some reasons why I believe in Jesus. As I do, I want you to consider why you believe, why you are leaning towards believing, why you are thinking about the possibility of believing… I believe in Jesus because I’ve seen communities of people drawn together in his name to worship and work and serve together. I believe in Jesus because through him, I have experienced forgiveness for my failings, strength for my endeavors, and hope for my future. I believe in Jesus because I’ve watched relationships being reconciled, people giving their time and money and effort to help others, and people reaching out to each other in times of crisis.

Why do you believe in Jesus? I invite you to take a moment to consider that question.

I believe in Jesus because I have seen and experienced Christ standing among us, just as he stood among the disciples that Easter week. He doesn’t look like a ghost. And he doesn’t look like any picture of Jesus that I can remember. Sometimes he looks like an elder serving Communion. Sometimes he looks like a new friend with open arms offering a hug of welcome. Sometimes he looks like young person, asking honest questions and challenging the status quo. Sometimes he looks like an older person reflecting on years of experience and pointing in a wise direction. Sometimes he looks like a person in need, drawing attention away from our selfish agendas and forcing us to look and to see him. Sometimes he looks like a congregation worshipping, and serving, learning and growing, and supporting one another as they seek to live out Christ’s mission in their community.

You, like me, may not be convinced by ghost stories, but like Thomas, you can ask to see for yourself. When Thomas wouldn’t believe, Jesus came back especially for him. Jesus did a repeat performance so that Thomas could see and experience the risen Lord – so that Thomas could believe. Jesus will do the same for each one of us.

So look, because you will see Christ. Then, when you have seen, go where Jesus sends you in the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit, and show Jesus to those who have not yet seen. Amen.

1. Weber to Tango: CD Release Recital
   Margaret Wilson, Clarinet
   Gillian Lyons on the Piano 

   Saturday, May 14, 2011 at 7:30 p.m.
   Adults $15, Students/Seniors $10
   Reception to Follow

   To purchase the CD Weber to Tango, follow this link.

2. Gustin House Presents:
   William Lewans, Baritone
   Gregory Schulte, Piano 

   Friday, May 20, 2011 at 7:30 p.m.
   Adults $25, Students $20
   Pre-concert chat at 6:45 p.m.

On the website of the Presbyterian Church in Canada you will find several election guides that may assist you as you study the issues and consider the options. They also provide some helpful questions that you may want to put to your candidates, particularly related to the issues of poverty and justice.

Matthew 21:1-11
Philippians 2:5-11

I was thinking a lot about the federal election as I was preparing my sermon for this morning. I was thinking about the political rallies and the crowds of people waving signs and hoping to catch a glimpse of, or shake hands with their favourite leader. Not that Canadian politics has any really charismatic leaders like Obama once was in the United States. I’m not sure what’s worse… to get really excited about a leader and then to turn against him when he doesn’t manage to satisfy all your desires, or to just not get excited about anyone at all.

On Palm Sunday, we are invited to join with the cheering crowds who greeted Jesus as he entered the city of Jerusalem so many years ago. They must have heard some great things about the prophetic new leader, and they were pinning their hopes on him to lead them out of oppression, poverty, and despair.

But as we wave our palm branches today, what are we thinking? We know what happens next for Jesus – how his popularity suddenly drops in the polls. Some were likely disappointed that he didn’t take the city by force. He chose a donkey instead of a steed, and so even with the support of the crowds, a military take-over was not on his agenda.

Others might have hoped that he would at least fight for some reforms in the religious systems of the day. He preached against the hypocrisy of following the letter of the law and ignoring the needs and concerns of the people. He confronted the religious leaders and their corruption. And when he drove the money-changers out of the temple, some of his supporters must have thought that he was about to do something really big!

But all the while, the rumours and the lies were spreading. He was dangerous. He was blasphemous. He was doing the work of the devil, opposing those who were in power. He was breaking the rules, and he must be stopped.

Most of those who had betted on him to be a winner lost interest when he seemed to have no success. Others turned their anger and disappointment against him and joined in the new chorus of insults that had begun.

And though Jesus must have known where this turn of events was leading him, he didn’t run or hide, and he didn’t even fight for himself. He didn’t try to change his message to something that would be more popular with the people or with the leaders. He was who he was to the end. And I, for one, believe that he was the very presence of God with us in the world.

The apostle Paul uses the poetic words of what might have been an early Christian hymn to express what Christ did for us in the world:
Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death -
even death on a cross.

Unlike so many in our world today, Jesus was not grasping for power. Not only did he willingly let go of the popularity that he seemed to have won as he entered the city of Jerusalem… but as Paul suggests, his very coming into the world to share our humanity demonstrates his willingness to let go of power.

Christ was with God. Christ was God. And he emptied himself. He humbled himself, and was born as one of us.

And Christ didn’t come down to our level so that he could rule over us. Even as a human person, he wasn’t grasping at power and prestige. Instead he came to serve, and to teach, and to show us what God is like… to show us what we can be like as God’s children, as people who are created in the image and likeness of God.

Taken out of its context in Paul’s letter to the Philippians, this poetic hymn sounds a lot like an early Christian creed. It’s a Christological creed. It declares what Paul and his Christian friends believed about Jesus the Christ… That he was God, that he humbled himself and was born as one of us, that he was rejected by people, but God raised him up to live and reign in heaven with God…

But I don’t think Paul wrote the hymn into his letter to the Philippians just to make sure that they knew what to believe about Jesus. Paul may have thought that believing the right things was important, but he also knew that doing the right things was critically important.

Chapter two of the letter begins with Paul encouraging the Christians at Philippi to live together in humility and love. He writes:
If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.

He might as well have told them to pause in each and every situation and to ask themselves, “What would Jesus do?” He wrote, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”

Jesus didn’t grasp at power. He emptied himself. He humbled himself. He became a servant, and lived and died for the sake of others. That is the model for living that we must follow as well. In stark contrast to the modern spirit of encouraging competition and giving rewards to individuals who get to the top, Paul insists on mutual concern and service.

Paul’s words are a terrible indictment of the lives and attitudes of many who have called themselves “Christian.” How many of us have really taken the self-giving Christ as a model for Christian behaviour? How many have been more concerned with airing our own opinions than with coming to a common mind with others? How many church leaders have seen their own role in terms of position and power, and have forgotten that true honour comes to those who “make themselves nothing”? How many have been prepared to take on the role of a slave?

As a church, we may enjoy the beautiful poetry of the passage about Christ and his self-giving love for us. But we cannot ignore its implications for our lives. We cannot detach theology from ethics, God’s gracious act from the divine demand that follows.

If we keep on reading in Paul’s letter… if we do not stop at the end of the hymn, we will not miss Paul’s conclusion. We must take the example of Christ to heart and start living like him in the world. We must “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in [us], enabling [us] both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

It’s easier said than done though, isn’t it? And so often in Paul’s letters, the instructions about how we should live and show our obedience are general and imprecise. We are told to live “in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,” and we sometimes wish that he could have been more specific.

But Christian obedience does not mean living in accordance with a set of rules; rather, it means responding in the appropriate way to the self-giving love of God. The vision that Paul provides us with is, in fact, far more valuable than any set of rules would be.

Christians in the modern world are faced with innumerable ethical dilemmas, which multiply each year with advances in science and medicine. We cannot expect ready-made answers to these modern-day questions in the Bible! But Paul always went back to first principles.

He says, “This is the gospel. This is what God is like. This is what God has done for you, and this is what God expects you to be like. Work out what that means for yourselves!”

So we need to go back to first principles too: What is the Christlike thing for us as a Christian community, for us as individual Christians, to be doing? How do we respond, in obedience, to what God has done?

The answers to these questions are not necessarily easy. In any particular ethical dilemma, we may well find Christians sincerely supporting opposite viewpoints.

If someone is apparently in an irreversible coma, is it more “worthy of the gospel” to preserve life by continuing treatment or to allow the patient to die?

When a tyrant like Hitler arises, is it right to resort to war in order to put a stop to his atrocities?

What is the Christlike approach to using fetal tissue in medical research, in order to prevent disease?

How does one balance the advantages and disadvantages to societies and environment when “development” seems to clash with “conservation”?

After careful study, consideration, and prayer, Christian communities may come to conclusions about some of the complex issues of our time. But we do not tell people how they should vote. Even if Christians could come to agreement on all the issues, there would still not be one party that could fulfill all our priorities and concerns.

But whether we are grappling with particular issues or deciding how to vote in the upcoming election, what may be most important is that we approach all such problems in humility – not thinking that we know all the answers.

Let us not make our decisions or cast our votes out of selfish self-interest. But let us do so in love, looking to the interests of others, and not seeking to exploit what we consider to be our rights.

Paul does not give us precise guidelines about what to do in particular situations, but he has given us a very significant hint. The basis for all our actions is our life in Christ.

As we wave our palm branches and raise our voices to praise Jesus today, let us do so, not because we are sure that he will become the winner and do something great for us. But let us do so because he is our Lord and we are ready to follow his way. The humble, self-giving, suffering way of Jesus is the way that we have chosen. May the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus, and may God’s kingdom come. Amen.

It is the fifth Sunday in Lent. We are still two weeks away from Easter Sunday and the celebration of the resurrection of Christ. But today we have heard a couple of wonderful scripture texts that point towards the joy of the resurrection. They proclaim the power and love of God to bring hope where there is despair, to bring joy where there is sadness and grief, to bring life where there is death.

The prophet Ezekiel uses the striking image of a valley full of dry bones. And he tells about how God will raise them up, and put them back together, cover them with flesh and skin, and fill them with breath so that God’s people will live again.

The author of John’s Gospel tells the amazing story of the raising of Lazarus. This friend of Jesus had been dead for four days. He was already in the tomb. His family were grieving. But Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out. He was still wrapped in his grave clothes, but he was alive again!

And the Apostle Paul reminds the Roman Christians, and he reminds us also, that as God’s people we have the gift of the Spirit within us. The Spirit of God that lives within us is the same Spirit of God that raised Jesus from the dead. And so we can trust and believe that God’s Spirit will give us life also… abundant life today, and life everlasting.

For those of us who know these biblical stories so well, it’s easy for us to jump to the end of the stories and the celebration of life and joy winning out over death and despair. We know that the bones will come back together and rise up and live again. We know that when Jesus calls, Lazarus will indeed come out and he will live again. But today is not yet Easter. We’re still in the season of Lent. And though we may know what is coming, we are invited in this time to wait for a while in the earlier part of the stories. We are asked to hold back our rejoicing, to refrain from singing “hallelujah,” and to be in the desert place that was a part of Jesus’ journey.

And so I invite you to consider the vision of Ezekiel: “The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry.” God asked the prophet, “Can these bones live?” And Ezekiel must have been thinking, “Um… I don’t think so.” But he said, “O Lord GOD, you know.” I guess God had surprised him before.

As the text later makes it clear, the bones represent the whole house of Israel. They are all of God’s people who are as good as dead. You see, Israel had been conquered by the Babylonians. Jerusalem had been destroyed. And God’s people had been sent into exile.

They’d been there for a long time now, and most of them had given up any hope of returning to their land. They’d concluded that God had abandoned them, and they’d turned to other gods, and other ways, and they’d blended in with the other people in Babylon. They had ceased to be the people of God.

Ezekiel describes their utter despair and hopelessness by saying that they have become like a pile of dry, dry bones in a deserted valley. They are dead. They are long dead and without any hope. They say, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.”

I hope that you have never felt quite like the Israelites did during that difficult time in exile, but I imagine that most of you have felt like that at one time or another in your life. And it’s likely that most of us will feel like that again at some point in the future. For some, bouts of clinical depression are part of the reality of life. But even for those with good mental health, there are times when the troubles and trials of our lives can become overwhelming…

When our plans and hopes don’t seem to work out right…

When we get tired of working so hard and never seeing the results we hope for… When the daily grind seems to have no meaning for us anymore…

When illness or injury makes every day more difficult for us, even basic activities becoming exhausting…

When we experience breakdowns in relationships and we don’t know how to fix them…

When our families or friends are in trouble, and we feel powerless to do anything to help…

When we get frustrated with the politics and power struggles in our society, and our workplaces and communities…

The valley of the dry bones is not an unfamiliar place to most of us. We’ve been there before. And we’ve stood in the middle of the valley too… kicking at the dusty bones in frustration… shaking our fists at the stale air in anger… letting the tears roll down our faces in despair. And in those moments, those hours, or those days, we have not been able to imagine the bones rattling and coming together. Our bones were dried up, and our hope was lost. We were cut off completely.

Or perhaps like Martha or Mary, your most difficult time has come with the loss of someone that you deeply loved. And just as the sisters of Lazarus sent a message to Jesus asking him to come and help them, you sent up many prayers to God for healing and help as well. And then you waited, as they did. And you said goodbye, as they must have done. And then you mourned.

Like Martha, your faith may have given you strength and hope through that difficult time. Like her, you may have told yourself or even others, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” But like Mary, you may have also thought or even said to God, “Lord, if you had been here, my loved one would not have died.”

Unlike the Gospel story though, Jesus did not show up four or five days after you called for him, and proceed to bring your loved one back from death. As difficult as that wait must have been for Lazarus’ family, we often have to wait much longer. And the new life that we most often experience is not our loved ones back with us again, but rather the slow process of healing and hope and purpose that begins to grow within us when we start to come to terms with our loss.

The words of the anthem that the choir sang this morning are appropriate. God says to us, “Come unto me and wait, for my time is not your time.” These are difficult words to accept in the midst of the desert places of our lives. At least, the “wait” part is difficult to accept. In the fast-paced rush of the world and our busy lives, waiting is not something that we’re very good at or very willing to accept. We hate waiting in lines. We avoid waiting in traffic. We get annoyed when we have to wait for each other. And so when God asks us to wait, we wonder if God is with us at all, or if God must be busy paying attention to someone else.

But during this season of Lent, I wonder if we can focus on the first part of the line in the anthem: “Come unto me.” Because that’s where we are invited to wait… not on our own, not abandoned by God, not alone. God invites us to come into God’s very presence… to be still and know that he is God, that God is with us, that God’s Spirit lives within us, and around us, and between us.

And God promises, “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.” God promises, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.”

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD. Lord, hear my voice!
I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

In the presence of God, with the Spirit of God within us, and around us, and between us, let us keep a time of silence together. Let us wait for the Lord.

Just before we hear the Gospel reading, I want to say a few things. During the season of Lent in year A, we get a series of long stories from John’s Gospel, and today’s Gospel story about the healing of a blind man from John 9 is no exception.

All of the Gospels have stories about Jesus healing people who are blind. But if we were reading a healing story from Mark’s Gospel it would be much shorter! The Gospel writer would tell us that someone was blind. Jesus would do something simple to help. The person would be healed. And everyone would rejoice and praise God. There might be a few Pharisees around who would grumble about it a little bit, especially if it happened to be the Sabbath day. But that would be the story.

John’s Gospel is different though. When the author of John’s Gospel tells a story about healing a blind man, it’s about much more than just healing a blind man. It’s almost like John’s stories are parables. They’re not parables really, because parables are made up stories that are told to make a specific point. On the surface a parable is about one thing, but it has a deeper level of meaning too, and that’s the point of the story.

John’s stories are about things that Jesus actually did in his ministry. But they’re told in such a way that, if you listen carefully, you’ll notice that they have a deeper meaning too. Today’s story is about Jesus healing a blind man, but it’s also about something else. Let’s listen carefully for that something else this morning.

John 9:1-41

Sermon:

That was a pretty complicated healing story, wasn’t it? There is a man who was born blind. And Jesus’ disciples ask him a theological question about the blind man. They ask, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Can you believe that they ask that question? It seems shocking to us today. But the idea that when something bad happens to you that it must be because you have done something wrong was not unusual, and it’s probably not that unusual today either. If there’s something wrong with you, God must be punishing you. Or if it’s something genetic that you were born with, maybe God is punishing your parents for something they did wrong.

That’s what the disciples are wondering. Who did something wrong? The blind man or his parents? But Jesus breaks their assumptions and tells them, “No one sinned. Neither the man nor his parents have done anything to deserve being struck with blindness.” Or I could imagine Jesus saying, “Come on, everyone sinned! Everyone makes mistakes. This man and his parents aren’t perfect either. But that has nothing to do with this man being born blind! In fact, this particular man was born blind so that God’s works could be revealed in him.”

And Jesus proceeds not only to heal the man of his blindness, but to use this event to show God’s power and God’s love to many others. It was a simple and straightforward healing. First the man was blind. Then Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread it on the man’s eyes. Jesus told the man to wash, and he came back able to see. Once he was blind, but now he could see.

But instead of celebrating – the usual response to a healing in the Gospels – everyone was confused and upset and worried about how it was done. The neighbours wanted to know how it was done and “where was the man who did it?” The Pharisees wanted to know how it was done, and they were upset that someone had done it on the Sabbath day. They called the man’s parents and questioned them about it. All they could say was “Yes, this is our son. He was born blind.” They didn’t know how the healing took place. They told the Pharisees to ask the man himself.

So they did. They called the man again, and they tried to get him to say that Jesus must be a sinner because he did this thing on the Sabbath day. But the man said, “I don’t know if he’s a sinner. All I know is that though I was blind, now I see.” And the Pharisees just pestered him some more, asking him again how Jesus did this thing. And when the man finally says that Jesus must be from God, they drive him out.

At the end of the story, there is a final encounter between Jesus and the healed man. And though the man still does not understand exactly what has happened, he knows that once he was blind, and now he sees. He knows that Jesus is responsible for the healing. And he believes that Jesus is from God.

And Jesus finally says, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Although the story is about the healing of a blind man, I think on a deeper level, it’s about healing our spiritual blindness. Although the story is about opening the eyes of a man who cannot physically see the world. I think on a deeper level, it’s about opening our eyes to see God in Jesus Christ, to understand who we are in relationship to God, and to have our lives transformed by that relationship. I think the story is about conversion.

Conversion isn’t a word that I use all that often. Maybe if I had become a Christian later in life, I would talk about being converted. But I grew up in the church. And although I can identify some key moments in my faith life and commitment, I can’t identify a single moment of conversion and tell you exactly what happened.

Like the preacher John Wesley who described the feeling of his heart being “strangely warmed,” I can tell you about the day of my baptism when I felt absolutely surrounded and upheld by the love of God in my church community. Like the first disciples who dropped their nets to follow Jesus on the road, I can tell you about the day that I became sure that I was being called to ministry. I didn’t feel ready or equipped, but I felt called and I was ready to go.

When I think about it, I can’t even trace the key moments in my development of faith. I can’t remember the sermons that made a difference in my understanding of God. I can’t recall which songs I was singing or which scripture passages I was studying when I recommitted my heart and my life to serving God so many times over the years. And I certainly can’t repeat the many conversations I had with people of faith and with people with doubts… the debates, the earnest discussions, and the prayers that were shared.

Like the man who was formerly blind, I can’t explain to you how it happened. But I can tell you that Jesus was there. He was there through it all. And I once was blind, and now I see.

Consider the Gospel story that we just heard. And tell me… when was the man born blind converted to the way of Jesus? Was it when Jesus touched him and put mud on his eyes? Was it when he opened his eyes and found that he could see? Was it when he was talking to the Pharisees and found himself saying, “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” Was it during that final conversation with Jesus when the man responded, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him?

Think about your own moment of conversion… or perhaps many moments of conversion throughout your life of faith… And think about what difference your faith makes in your life. You once were blind, but now you see. How is your life changed because of your relationship with Jesus? Give thanks for that change, for that transformation, whether you can remember one key moment of conversion, or whether your growth in faith has been a gradual process over many years.

But I don’t want us to make the same mistake that the Pharisees always seem to make. They keep thinking that they have everything about God all figured out. They keep thinking that they can see perfectly already, and so they aren’t looking for opportunities to have their own eyes opened.

I’m reminded of a minister that I once knew when I was growing up. He was a wonderful minister. Thoughtful, kind, and caring. But he was finished learning. Although Presbyterian churches provide time and money for clergy to do continuing education every year, he had no use for taking courses. He said that he learned what he needed to know in seminary, and he was finished. It made me wonder how great a minister he could have been if he had been open to learning even more.

Continuing education is something I don’t have a problem with. I’m very excited about the time I can get to read, and study, and attend conferences and lectures. I’m signed up to go to the “Festival of Homiletics” – a major preaching conference in Minneapolis next month. And I’m happy to learn from the masters, and hopefully improve my preaching.

What is more difficult than learning new ideas or skills is learning the humility to admit that you can’t do everything well, that you made a mistake, that you missed something important, that you made a wrong decision. Because unless you and I can humble ourselves enough to let God lead us in new ways… Unless you and I will open our eyes to see the new things that God is showing us, then we might as well be blind.

Yesterday we had a very good gathering here at the church. We were a small group of 15 members, and we were talking, discussing, thinking, and praying about what God is calling us to do to grow the health and effectiveness of our congregation. We shared some excellent ideas, and some good suggestions. Some of the good suggestions shared will be forwarded to the committees and the Board so that they can be implemented as part of the regular work of those groups. And a couple of excellent ideas you’ll be hearing more about in the next few months. We decided that it will be fun and fruitful to work on developing some Major Community Sundays in our church. And we decided that it will be fun and fruitful to discern and develop the spiritual gifts of our congregation members.

I won’t get into any more detail than that today, but you can expect to hear more from this group, and there will be more opportunities down the road for you to get involved in putting these ideas into action. But I think the best thing about what we did yesterday was that there was a Spirit of openness to excellent ideas and good suggestions. We listened to each other. We expected God to speak through those with whom we gathered. We opened our eyes to see something new, to see something good… and we did.

This morning’s Gospel story reminds me that conversion is a process. Faith is a journey, and we’re on the journey together. So if we’re willing to listen to one another and be patient with one another, we can help each other to see new possibilities, to embrace new ideas, and to journey on with new hope and courage.

Wherever we’re at right now is not the end point of our faith or understanding of God and God’s will for us. There will always be more to learn, more to understand, more to enact in the world… And so we have a wonderful reason to hope, because God is not finished with us yet. Let’s open our eyes, because there are more wonders yet to behold! Amen.

Did you know that Tuesday, March 22^nd was the international World Water Day? I didn’t know that it was until yesterday when the day had already passed. But marking World Water Day a few days late is probably better than not marking it at all. The purpose of the day is simple – to raise awareness about the achievements made and the challenges faced in ensuring people around the world have access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation.

I hate to admit it, but I went down to Regina on Friday afternoon with our Synod Youth group, and I complained about the tap water. I’m not the kind of person who ever bothers with bottled water. Tap water is fine. But I suddenly realized that I’d become accustomed to some pretty fine tasting tap water here in Saskatoon. Just brushing my teeth with the Regina water was unappealing, let alone actually drinking it. And that is good, fresh, treated water that is perfectly safe to drink. Even the people of Regina have it pretty good!

Clean water is essential to life, yet over a billion people around the world still do not have adequate or sustainable access to safe water or proper sanitation facilities. A lack of sanitation and clean drinking water leads to serious health problems such as cholera, diarrhea, scabies and malaria. In many developing countries, women and children are responsible for collecting water from wells or streams that are far away and may not be clean. Children often miss school because they are collecting water or are ill from drinking unsafe water. Large cities and slum areas struggle to provide appropriate infrastructure that keeps pace with the growth of urban populations.

Our Canadian Presbyterian development agency, PWS&D, works with overseas partners to provide clean water, improved sanitation facilities and hygiene education in schools, churches and communities around the world. People are living healthier lives through programs that construct wells and rainwater tanks closer to homes, repair broken water taps, install latrines and teach families about proper hygiene practices. These are all good things, and we can be proud of the contributions that we make to these programs through our church. But at the same time, there are many people right here in Canada that don’t have access to enough clean water.

I read an article the other day about thousands of Manitobans living on northern reserves that were hoping that the federal budget presented earlier this week would come through with money to bring clean water to more of their homes. In late January, a review of water systems on more than 600 Canadian reserves was completed and will likely help to draw attention to this issue. But one article suggested that some of those living on reserves survive on less clean water per day than is provided in refugee camps in war-torn nations. Most have to cart buckets of water from pumps, but several reserves can’t produce enough clean water from their treatment plants to meet demand. It is a public-health nightmare, with residents reporting higher rates of infectious diseases due to overcrowded and unsanitary living conditions.

The United Nations recently declared access to clean drinking water a basic human right. But Canadian diplomats didn’t support that resolution. A few years ago, we all heard about the E. Coli found in the water supply of the Cree living in the Kashechewan First Nation along James Bay. That situation was bad enough that much of the population was evacuated from the community for treatment of ailments caused by the water. But five years later, there are still 117 First Nations under drinking water advisories.

Now, I suppose that you probably didn’t come to church this morning expecting to hear so much about water. Perhaps if this Sunday was planned for a special focus on the work of PWS&D, you wouldn’t be surprised by a bunch of talk about access to clean water. But on a regular Sunday you likely expected to hear a message that’s a little more “spiritual.”

But the thing about God that religious people may be most inclined to forget is that, for God, the physical is spiritual… and the spiritual is physical. Remember, this is the God who began with the divine Spirit brooding over the soupy mess of nothingness, and created the physical world and everything in it, and called it good. Remember, this is the God who became flesh in Jesus Christ – who became physical and lived in the world as one of us. And Jesus didn’t tell us to stop doing all the physical things that we do… like eating, and laughing, and loving, and playing, and working. No, he joined in all those things with us.

And he pointed out that the physical is spiritual too. He pointed out that the God who created us, and who loves us is with us, and in us, and around us, and between us. He went fishing, and he began relationships. He shared food, and he touched and healed sick people. He drank wine at parties, and I imagine that he danced, and laughed, and celebrated with his friends.

And though he told stories and shared teachings that spoke to people’s spiritual needs, he did not neglect or make light of the physical needs of the people he encountered. They were hungry. They were sick. They were injured. They were oppressed. And he cared about all those things, and all those people.

John’s Gospel is great for putting together the physical and the spiritual sides of life. Because in John’s Gospel, Jesus is always using physical, everyday things to help people to understand the spiritual. Last week, we heard Jesus tell a man called Nicodemus that he needed to be born again. That image of the struggle to be born… to come out into the light of day and participate in the risks and joys of living in the world… is a physical reality that points towards a spiritual journey towards an adult faith. Later in the Gospel Jesus will heal a man who was born blind in order to teach about spiritual blindness. And he’ll feed a hungry crowd with bread, but then invite them to realize that he himself is the “bread of life” that will truly nourish them.

In today’s Gospel text, Jesus says to the woman that he meets at the well, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

He’s not saying that the physical doesn’t matter or that she doesn’t need actual water to live. Obviously she does, as we all do. Even Jesus needed water. And having no bucket with him, he was relying on this stranger to help him out and get him a little water to drink.

But Jesus’ message invites us to pause and consider how extremely critical it is to human life to have water. We can’t live without water. If we don’t have enough, it has to become our first priority to get water. And then we are invited to consider that Jesus is offering us something like that… something like water. Jesus is offering us something like water. And when we drink it, we’ll never be thirsty again. When we drink THAT water, it will become like a spring within us… it will never run out… and it won’t just keep us alive, but it will give us life forever.

I went to a meeting this week with a small group of leaders from some of the innercity churches here in Saskatoon. We meet together often at the Innercity Council of Churches, but this meeting was called by Dr. Ryan Meili, one of the doctors at the Westside Community Clinic. Ryan was concerned about the growing problem of homelessness in Saskatoon, and he was wondering whether some of the churches might be able to work together to provide emergency housing for people who sometimes end up sleeping outside in the winter.

So we got together to talk about this problem. We talked about people who are homeless and the services that are available to them. We talked about the various shelters, who they serve, and what they provide. We heard about the “Out of the Cold” programs in Toronto and Calgary, and thought about whether the Saskatoon churches could or should consider doing something similar if it is needed here in our city.

One of the people that came to this meeting was Don Windels who is the director of the Lighthouse (just up the street from us at 20^th Street and 2^nd Ave). Some of you will know the Lighthouse because our Outreach Committee organizes an annual event where we go and sing carols and spend some social time with the residents there. (You also might remember that it used to be called the Capri.)

Anyway, the Lighthouse is primarily a residence for people with physical or mental disabilities that make it difficult for them to live independently. They house both men and women in hotel-style rooms, and provide meals, encouragement, and support to be actively engaged in the community. But the Lighthouse also includes an emergency shelter. They have space for both men and women who have nowhere else to stay. And because of the increased need for emergency shelter, they have opened up a couple of common areas that become “overflow areas” when the need is greatest.

What we discovered at our meeting is that even though there are people sleeping on the streets in Saskatoon, the Lighthouse pretty much always has space to take more people in their overnight shelter. The problem seems to be that not everyone knows that they are there and able to house more people. In fact, the Lighthouse is building right now so that they can expand and improve their facilities, both for those who live there permanently, and for those who stay in the emergency shelter. And so the conversation shifted from a discussion about opening up churches for people to sleep on the floors of our halls towards a focus on how the churches might give support to an organization like the Lighthouse that is seeking to meet this growing need in our city.

We got talking about the ministry that the Lighthouse offers. It is not ministry of a particular congregation or denomination, but it is a Christian organization. Although they provide housing and support to people with mental or physical disabilities, as well as emergency shelter for both men and women, they also see their ministry as filling more than just physical needs. They want to share the good news of Jesus Christ, and to invite people into relationship with God. You might say that the Lighthouse wants to offer water to thirsty people, but they also want to offer the “living water” that only Jesus can give.

Hearing this mission of the Lighthouse, Ryan asked whether that might ever become a barrier to people accessing the help that they need in a physical sense. And the answer was “no.” We certainly hope not. We never push religion on the people. There is simply an invitation, never a push or a shove or a bribe. That was certainly the mistake that many Christians and churches made in the past. We made physical help dependant on acceptance of a spiritual message. And when we did that, that was a matter of manipulating people. It was using our power unfairly. And it was a distortion of the good news of Jesus Christ.

But I think that Don Windels wanted us to know that at the Lighthouse, they don’t want to become just another place where people who are desperate can find a place to sleep and something to eat. They do want to provide for people’s needs, but they know what so many people are struggling to understand… that life is more than food and drink and shelter and entertainment.

Like Jesus at the well in Samaria, the Lighthouse wants to be more than just a place where people can have their basic needs met. It wants to be a place where people are invited to go deeper and to meet the God who has come to us in Jesus Christ to bring hope, and meaning, and purpose to our lives.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is bold to tell the woman of Samaria that life is more than food and water, and that through him and the living water that he would give to her, she could experience this deeper, more meaningful, more purposeful life. And because of that conversation at the well, the woman’s life was changed. Not only was she ready to experience the Spirit-filled life that Jesus was offering, but she was ready to tell others and invite them to come and see for themselves.

And did you notice? When she ran back to the city to tell others about Jesus, she left her water jar behind. Yes, she would be back to collect water there again… but now her life was going to be about something more as well.

This isn’t a message about how everything “spiritual” is good, and the “physical” is bad or unimportant. The fact is that Jesus calls us and sends us to provide for the physical needs of the people in our community and around the world. Everyone needs clean water, healthful food, reasonable shelter, and meaningful activity. But those things aren’t enough either. Those things on their own don’t make for the life that God intends for us.

Strangely enough though, often it is those of us who have all of our basic needs met that seem to miss that point. We have everything we need and more, but we go searching for something to make our lives feel complete. We look for distractions. We reach out for comforts. We strive for success, and accomplishments, and we try to acquire more things. Maybe it’s the rich among us that need to learn from the poor of the earth, from homeless guy staying at the Lighthouse, from the woman at the well. Because when she heard Jesus’ invitation to receive the living water, her life was transformed. She left her water jar beside the well, and she went running to tell her friends.

May the Spirit of God fill us and give us life, like a spring of water gushing up to eternal life. And may our lives overflow with blessing so that we may share God’s love both by providing for the needs of the poor and those in crisis, and by telling the good news of Jesus Christ to all. Amen.

Abram and Nicodemus provide an interesting contrast in our readings today. First we have Abram, a model of faith, courage, and obedience to God. Today’s brief story is the first time that we hear about Abram in the bible. God tells him to “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” And Abram goes. He does what God has told him to do.

He goes. And we know that he becomes the father of many nations, and the father of the three major religions of the world. After Abram, so many others come to believe in the One God. They worship God, and listen for God, and do their best to follow God and God’s ways.

Abram is a wonderful example of faith. Nicodemus? Not so much. John’s Gospel tells us that Nicodemus is a religious person. He’s a Pharisee and a leader in the religious community. And just like Abram must have been hearing God’s voice in a new way, telling him to leave everything and start fresh in a new place, I think Nicodemus must have been hearing God’s voice in a new way too.

Nicodemus was hearing God’s voice and seeing God’s wonders in the man called Jesus of Nazareth. Maybe Nic was at the wedding in Cana. Maybe he saw what Jesus did – turning water into wine. Or maybe Nic was in the temple when Jesus drove out the money changers and the people selling animals for offerings. Perhaps he heard what Jesus said, and he was intrigued.

But unlike Abram who heard God’s voice and set out on the road, and unlike the disciples who dropped their nets at the invitation to follow, Nicodemus wasn’t ready to jump into the Jesus movement. He wasn’t ready to leave behind his life quite yet. He wasn’t ready to begin again. He had to check things out first.

And so Nicodemus goes to see Jesus at night. He wants to ask his questions, but he doesn’t want to be seen asking them. He wants to find out about this “teacher from God” who performs signs and wonders, but he doesn’t want to make any commitments, at least not yet.

Jesus says to him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above” without being born of the Spirit, without being born again. And Nicodemus is confused. “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

As usual in John’s Gospel, Jesus is speaking in metaphors and people don’t always understand what he means. Interpreting the words centuries later, Christians have considered, and re-considered, and debated what Jesus’ words really mean. Those who call themselves “born again Christians” talk about a moment of conversion in their lives when they left behind their sinful ways and embraced the life of discipleship. Others think of baptism as that moment of metaphorical rebirth.

But I came across another idea in my reading this week. It’s the idea that Jesus was not just telling Nicodemus the next step on the journey to becoming a disciple. After all, I don’t remember Jesus telling anyone else that they needed to be born again! Instead, Jesus may be responding to Nic’s particular situation. His instructions may be specifically for Nicodemus,
based on Jesus’ observations of this man.

By indicating that he needs to be born again, Jesus is implying that Nicodemus is still in the metaphorical womb. He’s keeping himself in a safe, secure place of comfort and nurture… And he’s probably quite content to stay there.

Jesus is saying that if Nicodemus wants to be a disciple, then he’s going to have to be willing to leave the womb. He’s going to have to come into the light of day. Yes, it’s going to be scary, and there are going to be risks, but there are also going to be joys and wonders to see, life and love to experience.

If Nicodemus, who came to Jesus under the cover of darkness, really wants to experience the Kingdom of God, he’s going to have to find the courage of Abram to leave behind the safety and security of his life and his position and embark on a journey into the unknown.

I’m reminded of an old phrase that used to get used a lot in churches when we were talking about the imperative to share our faith with others. We talked about “getting out of our comfort zones,” and it was the idea that God might sometimes (or perhaps often) ask us to do things that make us uncomfortable. And sometimes (perhaps often) we need to face that uncertainty, endure that discomfort, and forge ahead to do what we believe God is calling us to do.

Maybe God is calling you to be present with someone who is suffering or dying. Maybe God is calling you to stand up for someone who is being hurt or abused. Maybe God is calling you to speak out against injustice, discrimination, and hatred. Maybe God is calling you to give generously (even to the point of your own need) so that others may have the necessities of life. Maybe God is calling you to share your faith with another person – perhaps not only through your loving actions and the way you live. Maybe God is calling you to put your faith into words, and to be vulnerable enough to share them with someone who is wondering and searching.

If these things make us uncomfortable, then perhaps we are more like Nicodemus than we are like Abram. Perhaps Jesus’ message for us today is that we need to be born again. We need to squeeze out of the safe, warm, comfort of the womb (or the church) and get out in the world to participate in Jesus’ work of building the Kingdom.

I wonder if any of you have one of those fish magnets on the back of your car. The fish, as you probably know, is a symbol for Christianity. According to tradition, ancient Christians, during their persecution by the Roman Empire in the first few centuries after Christ, used the fish symbol to mark meeting places and tombs, or to distinguish friends from foes. When a Christian met a stranger in the road, the Christian sometimes drew one arc of the simple fish outline in the dirt. If the stranger drew the other arc, both believers knew they were in good company.

But today many Christians put fish magnets on the back of their cars. Some of the fish magnets say “Jesus” on them, and others have the Greek word for fish “ἰχθύς” whose Greek letters are an acrostic for “Jesus Christ God’s son Saviour.” (Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, Θεοῦ Υἱός, Σωτήρ)

The fish magnets still identify that someone is a Christian, but now everyone knows what the fish symbol means. It’s no longer a “secret symbol” only understood within the Christian community. Instead, it clearly identifies (to those inside the church and out) that this person is a follower of Jesus and they don’t mind if everyone knows.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that we should all run out and buy fish magnets for our cars, or that we should wear crosses around our necks to let the world know who we are. But I do think that like Nicodemus, Jesus is inviting us to come out of the comfort and safety of our religious traditions, and to let God lead us into new, risky, and exciting possibilities.

If we are serious about our faith, if we really want to be disciples of Jesus, then we can’t let our Christianity get compartmentalized. We can’t let it be something that we keep in the dark, that we only do on Sunday mornings or in the privacy of our own homes.

I don’t know about you, but I sometimes worry about whether I can be a good model of the Christian faith. You know, there are so many people who have been turned away from Christianity or from religion in general because they encountered Christians who seemed to be hypocrites. You know, people who put fish magnets on their cars, people who wore crosses around their necks, and then drove dangerously, cut people off in traffic, and swore at the other drivers.

Putting a fish magnet on your car (or being open about your Christian faith to the people around you) can feel like a lot of pressure. Because now that people know who you are, you have to start actually living like a disciple of Jesus. Whether you are at work, or with friends, or encountering strangers in the community, you have to be the one who is humble and kind, giving and forgiving. You have to be the one who puts the other first and who goes the extra mile. Even if being open about your faith doesn’t seem like as big a risk as it was for Nicodemus, it may still feel like a lot of pressure.

Well, the good news is that the burden is not ours to carry alone. As Christians, we are not expected to be perfect all the time. We don’t have to have all the answers, and we don’t have to have everything figured out. Perhaps, like Nicodemus, we will have questions for Jesus and things that get us confused. But we’ll be asking those questions in the light, along the way, on the journey with Jesus.

God promised Abram that if he went where God was sending him that God would bless him so that Abram would be a blessing to others. And the same promise is true for us. But we are called to be a blessing to others, not because we are faultless, but because we can reflect the One who is. Abram was a blessing, not because of his own skill, but because God used him to purely reflect God’s light.

In a short time, the religious part of your week will likely be finished. The church service will be over, you’ll go on your way, and on to work, or school, or play, or whatever else you will do this week. And so I invite you to pause and consider… How will you carry your faith into your life this week? Having experienced the love and grace of God today, where will you reflect that blessing during the week?

Think of the people that you will meet… those you know, and those who will be strangers… Think about those people and the opportunities you may have to share God’s love in word and in action.

God is saying to you today: “Go from this community, from this church… to the places that I will show you this week. And I will bless you… so that you will be a blessing.” Let us go where God sends us, filled with God’s Spirit of courage and faith. And may we see God’s Kingdom come. Amen.

The Japanese government has requested international assistance to respond to this massive disaster. Presbyterian World Service & Development partners are currently assessing the extent of humanitarian needs, especially at evacuation sites where food, water, health and sanitation kits and blankets are in short supply. Updates will be posted on the PWS&D website as available.

Please pray for the hundreds of thousands of people affected by this disaster in Japan. For those who would like to make financial contributions, Presbyterian World Service & Development is currently accepting donations. Funds will be sent through our international church networks to meet the needs of those who are affected.

Donations to PWS&D can be made through the offering at St. Andrew’s, by mailing a cheque to the office, donating online, or calling PWS&D at 1-800-619-7301 ext. 291. Please mark all donations “Japan Earthquake.”

The liturgical season of Lent is typically a time set aside for penitence. On Ash Wednesday, a group of us gathered here at the church, just as Christians gathered around the world, and we were invited to enter a period of self-examination, repentance, prayer, and fasting. Indeed, we are called to use these forty days (between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday) as a time of particular reflection on our sins, the ways that we separate ourselves from God and from one another. Thus, it is easy to characterize Lent as the sombre, solemn period of the church year.

The fact that Psalm 32 is set for the first Sunday of Lent in our lectionary suggests that there seems to be more to this season than solemnity. The title given to this psalm in the NRSV translation says a lot. It’s titled, “The Joy of Forgiveness.” The psalmist offers a “before” and an “after” picture of his experience of confessing his sins to God.

Here’s what things were like BEFORE he made his confession. He laments: “While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.” But then he acknowledges his sins to God: “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” he says. And AFTER the confession, he comes to know God’s forgiveness, an experience of relief and joy. He writes: “Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.”

If you want an even more vivid “before” and “after” picture to keep in your mind, just think of the story of the prodigal son that we already heard this morning. The son has made a terrible mistake. He has abandoned his family, cut off relationship with his father, and taken his share of the inheritance and spent it frivolously on all kinds of selfish and wasteful ventures.

When he finally comes to his senses and realizes the mess that he has made of his life and relationships, he finds himself with the wretched job of feeding someone else’s pigs. And he’s so desperate and hungry that he’s eating from the scraps that he’s supposed to be feeding to the pigs.

But once he finally acknowledges to himself that he’s made a mistake… and once he decides that he must return home to his father and admit to the mistakes that he has made… that’s when he goes from sitting in the mud with the stinky pigs to being dressed with a fine robe, a ring on his finger, and shoes on his feet… that’s when he experiences the forgiveness and grace of his loving father, so much so that the father throws a lavish party to celebrate the fact that the son has come home.

For us, as Christians at the beginning of Lent, Psalm 32 emphasizes the power of sin, but also the promise of joy. It lays out the journey of the forty days that are ahead. We are called to acknowledge our sins, to confess them to God, to receive God’s forgiveness, and finally to experience the joy and relief that comes from that new life.

A deeper look at Psalm 32 raises interesting questions about who is most affected when we acknowledge and confess our sins. The psalmist experiences God’s forgiveness only after he has acknowledged his sins. Presumably God knows our sins before we confess them. Jesus says that God knows us so intimately that “even the hairs of your head are all counted.” According to the psalmist, then, the purpose of our confession is in large part for our sake.

So often, our failure to acknowledge our sins to God is a result of our failure to acknowledge them to ourselves. This denial may be rooted in shame, defiance, or perhaps just plain thoughtlessness. The self-reflection that happens during Lent allows us to “come clean” to God AND to ourselves. As C.S. Lewis noted, “A man who admits no guilt can accept no forgiveness.” In other words, while God’s forgiveness is not contingent on our confession, it seems that our experience of it is.

The psalmist does not say anything about the actual process of acknowledging his sins to God. One gets the impression that he simply made the decision to “fess up” and then all was well. In reality, the process of coming to terms with the ways that we have not loved God with our whole heart nor loved our neighbours can be very difficult. It means admitting things about ourselves that we would rather ignore. Sometimes it also includes the difficult tasks of putting aside our pride, seeking the forgiveness of other individuals, and, in some cases, seeking the forgiveness of our community.

Though the psalmist does not describe his process of confession, he does give us insight into his experience of receiving God’s forgiveness. Acknowledging his sins before God brings the psalmist great relief. Likewise for us as Christians, the process of ‘full disclosure” that begins when we share our sins with God has the effect of taking the ownership of them away from us. We release our sins to God; and in turn, as we receive God’s forgiveness, we are released from the burden of them.

And according to Psalm 32, knowing God’s forgiveness brings joy as well as relief. This aspect of Lent is often overlooked. In our Lenten focus on the process of self-examination and repentance, we fail to remember the outcome of that process: the joy of knowing the forgiveness and grace of God that free us from all of our sins. In coming to know and confess the ways that we separate ourselves from God and one another, we will also come to know the joy of forgiveness that comes from God alone. Then, as the psalmist says, we will “be glad in the Lord and rejoice… and shout for joy.”

There’s another really interesting part in today’s psalm. After the psalmist has confessed and been forgiven by God, God says to him, “I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Do not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding, whose temper must be curbed with bit and bridle, else it will not stay near you.”

I don’t know if many of you have done any horseback riding. I took a horseback riding class one year when I was about 11 years old, and I’ve gone riding maybe 4 or 5 times since then. But I know that when you’re riding you put a bridle on the horse’s head which includes a “bit” that’s in the horse’s mouth. Then you hold on to the reigns, and when you pull on those reigns you can give direction to the horse… to turn, to slow down, or to stop. It’s the rider’s way of controlling the horse… of making it do what the rider wants it to do.

But I’ve been picking up a little more about horseback riding from watching the new Canadian television show “Heartland.” It’s set in Alberta, and the main character, Amy, is a young horse trainer. There was a story line recently in which Amy is trying to help a young girl to adjust to riding a rather large and powerful horse, so that she can get ready for an upcoming show jumping competition.

The strategy that the girl has been using so far is to use a rather large and painful bit in the horse’s mouth. With her small size and lack of experience, she has difficulty getting the horse to do what she wants it to do. So by using the large, painful bit, she can quickly pull on the reigns and MAKE that horse do what she wants. And it works to a certain degree.

But Amy soon realizes that the girl and her horse will never be a great jumping team with that kind of relationship… a relationship based on fear and punishment. And so she has the girl switch to a regular, smaller, smoother bit. The girl can no longer MAKE the horse do what she wants. But they go back to the basics, and learn step-by-step to communicate with each other and to work together to accomplish the jumps.

It’s a risk to get rid of that large, punishing bit. And at one point, the girl does get thrown off the horse when the horse doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do. But in the end, they become a strong team, working together to accomplish much more than they could have with the original method of fear and punishment.

In this metaphor, you are the horse and God is the rider. And God has taken the huge risk of deciding not to use a large and punishing bit. God has taken the huge risk of deciding not to use a bit and bridle at all. God says, “I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” But God doesn’t want us to be like horses that God is simply controlling with bits in our mouths.

Just as God gave freedom to Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden… just as the loving father gave freedom to his younger son to go out into the world and make his own decisions… God gives us a great deal of freedom to choose how to live, whom to love, and what to worship. God does not yank us back into obedience with harsh reprimands or threats of punishment. But God wants to develop such a relationship with us that there is no need for a bit or a bridle, because we are a team… constantly in communication, constantly working together to accomplish God’s purposes of love and justice and peace in the world.

As the loving father went out to watch for his son’s return, and as he ran out to meet him and to embrace him, our God is waiting expectantly for our return as well. And as the father welcomed him home with a wonderful celebration and a feast for all to share, our Lord Jesus is inviting us to come to the table of Communion to share in the feast that he has prepared.

Happy are we whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are we who are called to the table of the Lord. Amen.

Audrey Cameron, a Regional Staff Person with the Presbyterian Church in Canada, Atlantic Synod, describes one of Glen’s concerts in this way: “An evening with Glen is more than good music, though it is that. It is more than teaching, though it is that too. What happens is that through the language of the heart and music, space is created for the mystery of the Trinity to have room. Through word and song, Glen helps us understand what is happening so that it becomes more than an emotional moment but a lasting one in a powerfully authentic yet gentle way. For those in the faith or seeking the faith, the music is fresh and life giving. The whole ministry that Glen and David do together is a blessed thing, filled with the gifts of the Spirit. One leaves feeling encouraged, understood, and challenged in a gentle but strong manner that leaves an imprint”.

Don’t miss the opportunity to hear Glen Soderholm in Concert on Sunday, March 27, 2011 @ 7:30pm. Tickets: $10 (available at the door, or in advance from the church office)

Want to learn more about Glen Soderholm? Go to Glen’s web page.

Sun. March 13^th, 11:00 a.m. – First Sunday of Lent with Holy Communion
We gather with the whole church community to mark the beginning of the Lenten Season with a celebration of Holy Communion.

Mon. March 14^th, 7:30 p.m. – A Lenten Study Evening: “What Happens When We Pray?”
This one-session study looks at different views Christians have about prayer, particularly whether prayer just changes the one who prays or whether God is actually affected and might be moved on the basis of our prayer requests. Participants consider biblical examples where the outcome of events changed based on prayer.

Sun. March 27^th, 7:30 p.m. – Glen Soderholm in Concert
Glen is a Presbyterian minister from Ontario, as well as a singer/song writer/ worship leader. Come enjoy an evening of enjoyable music and creative songwriting that reflects the world that God has made. Glen will lead us in singing and learning new songs. It will be a great place to bring friends who are not attendees of the church, because they will be stimulated and challenged by a thoughtful presentation of the good news of Jesus Christ. Tickets are available in advance from the church office or at the door for only $10.

Wed. March 30^th, 7:30 p.m. – A Lenten Study Evening: “Introduction to Spiritual Disciplines”
Throughout the centuries, committed Christians who have been interested in becoming more Christlike and deepening their relationship with God have turned to spiritual disciplines for guidance and encouragement. But what are spiritual disciplines? And of what relevance are they for twenty-first-century Christians?

Mon. April 11^th, 7:30 p.m. – A Lenten Study Evening: “How Did Jesus’ Death Save Us?”
Rooted at the heart of the Christian faith is the stubborn declaration that Jesus “died for us.” Precisely why his death came to mean so much to Christians has, however, been a subject of wonderful and diverse exploration over the ages. “Somehow” by his death on the cross, Christians have come to trust that Jesus spans the divide between the human and the divine.

Sun. April 17^th, 11:00 a.m. – Palm Sunday Worship
Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday. We remember Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and join with the crowds in singing “Hosanna” and hailing him as King.

Thurs. April 21^st, 7:00 p.m. – Maundy Thursday Worship at Calvin Goforth Church (1602 Sommerfeld Ave @ 3^rd Street).
We will worship and share Communion with our friends at Calvin Goforth as we remember Jesus’ final meal with his friends.

Fri. Apr. 22^nd, 10:30 a.m. – Good Friday Worship
We will gather at St. Andrew’s with the Presbyterians of Saskatoon to remember the day that our Lord Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. We worship together at 10:30 a.m., followed by a time of fellowship.

Sun. Apr. 24^th, 11:00 a.m. – Easter Sunday Worship
We celebrate the good news that Christ is risen… He is risen, indeed! Everyone is welcome for this joyous celebration of the resurrection and service of Holy Communion.

This morning’s Gospel text came from a portion of what is known as Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” We might imagine Jesus… sitting on the top of a hill with a crowd of listeners gathered around as he delivered the greatest sermon of all time. That’s what it looks like in the movies of Jesus’ life and ministry. But what we actually have in Matthew’s Gospel is a beautiful compilation of sayings and teachings from Jesus. Chances are that he didn’t put them all together into one sermon, but the editor of the Gospel did that in order to tell the story.

But I imagine that Jesus’ words in the “Sermon on the Mount” are probably the things that Jesus said over and over throughout his ministry. They’re the words of wisdom that he shared with his disciples along the road. They’re the teachings that he focussed on whenever a crowd was gathered to listen to him. They’re Jesus’ “twelve keys” to being a faithful follower of God. That’s why these sayings got remembered, and passed on, and written down, and compiled into one beautiful, wonderful sermon from Jesus.

And while much of the “Sermon on the Mount” was probably preached and taught in public – to the crowds of people that gathered so often to learn from the great Teacher, I imagine that today’s sayings were especially for Jesus’ inner circle of followers. It’s not that “don’t worry” and “strive first for God’s kingdom” are not good advice for almost anyone in life… but it seems to me that these instructions are especially directed at Jesus’ own disciples.

Remember, the disciples are the ones who dropped their nets, left their families behind, and went out on the road with an itinerant preacher. They were the ones who made a choice between the relative security of their lives and livelihoods, and the uncertainty of joining up with Jesus’ group and going out on the road. And so when Jesus said to them, “do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear… But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well…” I can only imagine that it was a reminder.

Nobody would have gotten into following Jesus if they were too concerned about their own comfort and security. But when things started to get tough… when food was scarce, when clothing was getting worn, when the nights were cold and there was nowhere to sleep… that’s when Jesus needed to encourage his friends. He needed to encourage them to trust God and to focus on their mission. God was with them, and God would help them through.

I don’t know about you… but worrying is a feeling with which I’m quite familiar. When I’m worried, I feel it in my stomach. Sometimes I can’t tell whether I’m hungry, or I’m sick, or just worried. My stomach feels queasy, and then it begins to hurt, and I can’t get my mind to focus on anything else… anything other than the problem or concern that has me worried.

The worst seems to be when I feel like I have no control over the situation. A more humorous example is from our trip to Scotland last summer. At one point, we were driving through a hilly region of the country on our way back to the coast to visit St. Andrews. We were in a rental car. Nick was driving, sitting on the right of course, and I was the passenger on the left. The hills started off okay, and the scenery was breathtaking. But then the road narrowed, and narrowed, and the twists and turns got sharper and sharper, and the ups and downs were such that we couldn’t see the oncoming traffic (or the occasional sheep or goat on the road) until it was right in front of us. Not to mention that the road was often right on the edge of a cliff, with the drop off just a few feet from my side of the car.

And I could do nothing but worry. My stomach tensed up. My whole body tensed up.  But I had no control… except the occasional encouragement to Nick to feel free to slow down! My worrying did nothing to help the situation. It just made me feel awful, and made me miss a lot of the amazing views. That worry disappeared, of course, when we got back to flat road and away from the cliffs. And after a brief little worry about whether we would find a place to stay in St. Andrews, I could put those worries behind me and enjoy the beauty and the history of the university town on the East Coast of Scotland.

We all know what it feels like to be worried. It’s a natural reaction to danger or insecurity to start to feel worried, and it’s the kind of feeling that is meant to prompt us to do something about the situation. It’s self-preservation to get off the dangerous road, to search for a safe place to sleep, to find a way to get food and water when we need it. But it’s when worrying starts to get in the way of taking reasonable risks and doing things that are important… that’s when worrying becomes a big problem.

When worry about being accepted by her peers stops a child from going to camp… When worry about whether there will be enough food for dinner, affects a teenager’s concentration at school… When worry about finding a new job or career in which you can feel fulfilled keeps you in a dead-end job that you hate going to every day… When worry about what others might think of you, stops you from opening up and building relationships with other people…

Basic to our lives is the sense that the world is either trustworthy or dangerous. Psychologists tell us that this sense of trust or mistrust is set in infancy by early experiences of having our needs for food, comfort, and love either met or ignored. But we continue to shape and reshape our trust or mistrust of the world throughout childhood and adulthood.

An early positive experience at camp can teach a child that camp is a great place to be. And even if something difficult happens later, that child does not have to write the place off. They can trust that things will get better, as they have in the past. But an experience of betrayal in a relationship can affect even an adult’s ability to trust again. When we let ourselves be vulnerable with the people we love and we get hurt by them, it takes time to heal. And it takes courage to take the risk again… to trust someone enough to open ourselves to them.

Today’s scripture texts each contribute to the process of growing our trust by insisting that we can trust… we can take risks and we can live full lives… because God is in control.

The prophet Isaiah speaks words of comfort and hope to the People of Israel in exile. Despite the challenges that they have experienced… despite the bad things that have happened to them… the prophet encourages them to know and remember that God has not forgotten them… God has not abandoned them. Just as a nursing mother could not forget her child… just as a pregnant woman could not forget the little one inside her… God has not forgotten God’s People in exile. In fact, the prophet says that even if a mother could forget under some very unusual circumstances, God will not forget them because God has inscribed them on the palms of God’s hands.

The psalmist also writes about trusting God. Sometimes there are going to be things that are beyond our control. Sometimes there are going to be problems that we can’t solve… things that threaten to distract us from our purpose by causing us to worry and worry and worry. But somehow the psalmist has chosen not to become overwhelmed by things that he can’t control. He says, “I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a young child with its mother.” In spite of the troubles and challenges of life, the psalmist has chosen to trust in God, to rest in God, and to find comfort in God, like a child who is at peace in the protection of his mother’s arms. And he invites Israel to do the same, to “hope in the Lord from this time on and for evermore.”

Trusting in God doesn’t guarantee that things will start to go well for us, but it may give us the courage not to retreat from the challenges of life, but to face them, to live full lives, and even to overcome some of the things that once worried us.

I think of the apostle Paul’s words in our reading from 1 Corinthians today, and I believe what was happening was that some of the Corinthians were questioning Paul’s leadership and judging his behaviour or perhaps his ideas. Those of us who worry about what other people think about us can easily imagine how difficult this must have been for Paul as a leader.

But trusting in God, Paul responds to the people who have challenged him. He says, “It is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. I do not even judge myself. I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me.”

Paul has figured out that striving to gain the approval of anyone or everyone is a waste of time. He has decided to accept the fact that he will not always be popular as a church leader. In fact, later in chapter four Paul talks about the reality that as apostles, he and his colleagues will not receive honour, but disrepute. He writes: “To the present hour we are hungry and thirsty, we are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless, and we grow weary from the work of our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we speak kindly. We have become like the rubbish of the world, the dregs of all things, to this very day.”

Imagine the faith required to put up with all of that, to endure that kind of rejection by other people, and not to get overwhelmed by worry. But Paul knows that the only person’s judgment that matters is God’s judgment. The only person’s opinion that counts is God’s opinion. And Paul will not allow worrying about what people think of him to distract him from his mission of preaching the Good News about Jesus Christ.

In the Gospel text, Jesus declares that no one can serve two masters. We cannot serve God and wealth. We cannot serve God and comfort. We cannot serve God and popularity. At some point, we need to set those other things aside and to stop worrying about them. And it seems to me that the best way to do that is to focus on the one master that we do want to serve. We need to strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and we need to trust God that everything else that we truly need will be given to us as well.

Within a matter of a few years at most, Jesus’ disciples would move from worrying about food and clothing and lodging, to worrying about getting accused of blasphemy, being arrested, and executed. And although they may have started to learn how to trust God when it came to the provision of their daily needs, when the risks involved in following Jesus became too great, most of them became too worried and too scared to stand up with him in the face of danger.

But Jesus was not too worried. Jesus was not too scared. Jesus obviously felt the pain and anguish of what was going to happen to him, but he decided not to worry about his life and to strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness.

And indeed, all these things… all the things he truly needed were given to him. Because though he died, God raised him again to new life. And by his life, by his death, and by his resurrection, we also are given the gift of everlasting life where there is no more sorrow, no more crying, and no more worrying.

Let’s not wait until we die to experience that freedom and joy. Let’s trust God now and stop worrying now. Let’s strive together for the kingdom now, and may God’s kingdom come. Amen.

When you’re preparing to become a minister in the Presbyterian Church in Canada there are a number of steps in the process before ordination. One of those steps is to attend a Guidance Conference. A group of divinity students gathers at Crieff Hills Conference Centre near Guelph Ontario, along with a team of ministers and lay leaders within the Presbyterian Church. And we spend three days in personal and small group reflection on our call to ministry in the church.

The process includes a series of interviews and discussions that each student goes through with three counsellors. I don’t remember very much of the content of those conversations when I attended the Guidance Conference, but I do remember that at one point, someone asked me to think about what image I would choose to represent what my role would be as a minister in the church.

I remember that I paused for a moment to think about what image to choose. And then I said, “Well, often people use the image of a shepherd for the minister. But I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t think that’s the image that I would use for my ministry.”

“Why not?” the counsellor asked, and so I had to think and talk about it a little more. “Well, I feel like the shepherd image should be reserved for Christ. Jesus is the good shepherd, and I will only be one of his sheep. Yes, I’ll be the minister, but I’ll be working and serving alongside all the people of God. I’ll have the privilege of walking with them on their journeys and providing help and support along the way, but becoming the shepherd sounds like I’m taking the place of God. It just doesn’t feel too comfortable for me right now.”

Almost ten years has gone by since I made that comment about becoming a shepherd, and I have learned a great deal since then through the experience of actually being a minister in the church. And I guess over time, I’ve become a lot more comfortable with the image of the shepherd for my role as a minister.

What may have bothered me at first was the idea that a shepherd was so much smarter and more capable and powerful than the stupid sheep. What bothered me was that to become the shepherd seemed like lording it over the lowly sheep. But that’s not what I hear when I read about Kennon Callahan’s concept of Shepherding Visitation.

Callahan writes: “Shepherding is a spirit of loving, listening, learning, and blessing. When we shepherd, we share a word of grace that encourages a person in his or her own life. Shepherding is not primarily advising or coaching. Shepherding is restoring… it shares grace. It is a gift freely given. We do it because God shepherds us and invites us to share the blessing of shepherding with persons God gives us.”

Shepherding means visiting with people who are in hospitals, homebound, in assisted living, and nursing homes.

Shepherding means visiting with congregation members, adherents, and family and friends of our congregation.

Shepherding means visiting with our community: first-time worshipers, newcomers, and friends in the community.

Shepherding means enjoying visits that have a sacramental quality that benefits and blesses people’s lives.

What I have discovered is that shepherding doesn’t mean having a special connection to God, or special knowledge from God that I must impart… but shepherding means listening to God, visiting with people, joining with them on a part of their journey, and being attentive to God’s presence.

And shepherding visits, (when they don’t get too crowded out by meetings and administration and programming), can be among the most meaningful and valuable thing that a minister gets to do. There can be some truly sacramental moments, when God’s presence becomes visible and is experienced both by those visited and the one doing the visiting as well.

Not too long ago, I heard a complaint about a Presbyterian minister in another part of the country. The complaint was not about his preaching or his theology. It wasn’t about the programs he initiated, what he wrote in the church newsletter, or what he said or did in church meetings. The complaint was rather intangible… “It just feels like he’s not WITH us,” they said.

That minister was missing out on the opportunity to share generous shepherding visits with the people of his church… whether in the hospital, in their homes, over coffee hour, or even before and after meetings. He was never in the office for people to stop by or call up, and his congregation members were beginning to feel alone and abandoned.

As I seek to grow as a minister, and as a shepherd for this congregation, I must learn from examples like that, and take the many opportunities to be WITH you on your journeys through life and ministry… to listen, to care, to spend time with you.

But Callahan points out that Shepherding Visitation is not solely the responsibility of the minister in a church. He says that there is a desperate need for shepherding visitation, by both the pastor and the congregation. And for visiting to be most helpful, it should be done by ministers, other leaders, and congregation members.

St. Andrew’s has a pretty good network of people who are visiting. There are people visiting in the hospitals. There are others visiting our members in nursing homes and visiting those who are homebound. Our pastoral care co-ordinators are doing their best to fill in the gaps and to anticipate the needs of our members.

In addition, the members of Session – those known as the ruling elders – have an important responsibility in the area of pastoral care. Each one of our elders has a list of members and adherents, and they are asked to visit, phone, or otherwise make contact with each person on their list during the month or so leading up to our celebrations of Communion.

Do they think of their visits as shepherding visits? I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s just a matter of checking off names on a list for some, especially when life becomes busy and hectic.

And our other problem, of course, is that we don’t have enough elders at the moment. The number of people in our church community has gone up recently, while the number of elders has gone down a little as some have needed to retire or step back from this ministry for one reason or another. And so some of you won’t have an elder to come and visit you or call you up to see how you are.

And so shepherding visits are not only for ministers, not only for official pastoral care visitors, not only for elders… All the people of the church community are invited and encouraged to share generous shepherding visits with others inside and outside our church community.

Like Ananias, we need to be listening for opportunities to share shepherding visits even with people outside our church. I don’t mean that we go and hit our friends, relatives, and neighbours over the head with bible quotes and wrangle them into coming to church and getting involved in our programs.

But we do need to be responsive to God’s call to visit those outside the church… to listen, to care, and to share the love of God. We never know what effect those visits might have… a coffee break conversation with a colleague, a waiting-room conversation with a stranger, or a moment of care and attention paid to a cousin or an aunt or a nephew at a family gathering… All of those conversations can be your opportunity to share generous shepherding visits, even outside of the church community.

Perhaps my hesitancy to become a shepherd came from Israel’s experience of powerful leaders who took advantage of the people. God spoke to the prophet Ezekiel, and told him to prophesy against the false shepherds of Israel:

Thus says the Lord God: Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep. You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them. So they were scattered, because there was no shepherd; and scattered, they became food for all the wild animals. My sheep were scattered, they wandered over all the face of the earth, with no one to search or seek for them.

It is a great responsibility to be a shepherd… whether as a minister, or as an elder, or as a member of a congregation. It is a great responsibility to care for others as we care for ourselves, and even to put them first before our own concerns.

It is a great responsibility. And at times, we will fail. We will lose some sheep. We will scare off some sheep. We will forget that the sheep are actually the point… that the shepherds are nothing without the sheep.

But just as God stepped in to correct the mistakes of Israel’s false shepherds… Just as God stepped in to seek out each and every lost sheep… God will be the Shepherd of shepherds for us as well.

For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land…

I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak…

Indeed, we know that in Jesus Christ, God became the good shepherd… gathering not only God’s people Israel, but all God’s people into the flock of God.

Callahan points out what others have noticed before him… that God is the ultimate shepherding visitor. God did not simply remain on high… watching the troubles, and trials, and wanderings of the people down below. God cared enough about us to actually come and visit with us. In the words of Zechariah’s song in Luke’s Gospel: “Praise to the Lord, the God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people.”

The coming of Christ is the greatest visit of all… as God drew close to us, walked with us, taught us, directed us, healed us, and helped us. In Christ, God was truly our good shepherd… who cared about the sheep so deeply that he was willing not only to risk his life, but to give it up for our sake.

We give praise and thanks to God for Jesus, our good shepherd… and we give thanks for the Spirit of God that continues to visit us and guide us in God’s ways.

And as we seek to grow together as an effective church, living in the grace of God, may God help us all to become good shepherds to one another. May we share more and more generous, shepherding visits within our church and outside it, that God may work through us to seek the lost, and bring back the strayed, and bind up the injured, and strengthen the weak. Amen.

Can you think of a sermon that changed your life? Can you remember a speech that transformed the way you think or feel about life, about faith, about God? Maybe you can think of a sermon preached from this very pulpit by one of our previous ministers. Maybe you are remembering a speech by a political figure, by a leader in human rights and justice, or by a major religious leader.

I remember a lecture given by one of my favourite preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor. I don’t remember exactly what she said. But I remember the way I felt as I listened to her. I remember the way her words made sense to me, and how I suddenly understood my own calling to be a preacher in a new and deeper way.

When rightly used and directed, a skilfully prepared and delivered speech can take on a life-transforming importance. And even if we can’t recall the exact words that affected us so deeply, few people can claim that they have never been so deeply moved by a powerful speech or sermon that they have changed the direction of their lives.

Although it is encouraging and inspiring to think that my own Sunday sermons might carry that kind of power, it is good to know that we have access to many other sermons, reflections, and writings which can both supplement and inform what any given minister might preach on Sunday morning. In fact, in today’s readings from the scriptures, we have already heard portions of two great sermons.

The first was part of a speech attributed to Moses – his final speech to the people of Israel, given just before Moses dies, and just before the people enter the Promised Land. The second was part of Jesus’ famous “Sermon on the Mount” from Matthew’s Gospel.

Jesus was a rabbi, a teacher within the Jewish tradition, and he probably spent lots of time reading the scriptures, reflecting on them, and teaching from them in the various synagogues throughout Galilee. But in this case, we might imagine Jesus outside… sitting on a hill with a crowd of people gathered around to listen… preaching about the commandments of God.

And Jesus said: You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not murder”; and “whoever murders shall be liable to judgement.” But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, “You fool”, you will be liable to the hell of fire…

You have heard that it was said, “You shall not commit adultery.” But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

Jesus is taking the commandments – those same commandments that God gave to Moses and to the people of Israel – and he’s saying that they are still important. Often we think of Jesus as the one who brought in a new commandment from God – that we love one another as Jesus has loved us. And, of course, he did do that.

But he didn’t reject the first commandments. He didn’t throw them away and replace them. As a Jewish rabbi, he read the commandments, and studied them, and took them seriously. And in fact, Jesus interpreted the commandments even more strictly than many others might have. Not only “do not murder,” but “do not be angry.” Not only “do not commit adultery,” but “don’t even think about it.”

And even though the good news that Jesus preached was about God’s love and grace and forgiveness, it wasn’t the kind of cheap grace that says, “do what you want… live however you want… because God’s going to forgive you anyway.” No, Jesus preached about God’s love and grace and forgiveness that calls us and empowers us to live lives of goodness and righteousness, to put away anger and lust, and to live by God’s commandments.

Jesus preached his heart out, and those who listened were changed. They lived differently. They became his followers. They shared his words of wisdom and passed on his transformative “Sermon on the Mount” from generation to generation.

From what we know, Jesus was a natural when it came to preaching and teaching. He followed in the tradition of the prophets who interpreted the commandments and laws of God, who observed the practices and activities of the people, who listened for God’s voice, and who called the people to return to God and God’s ways.

Among the earliest of those prophets was Moses – the great leader who was called by God to lead God’s people Israel out of slavery in Egypt and into the Promised Land. But you may remember that speaking in public was not one of Moses’ greatest gifts. Just before Moses goes back to Egypt to begin his mission, he complains that he’s not up for the job if it includes giving speeches.

Moses said to the Lord, “O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor even now that you have spoken to your servant; but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.” Then the Lord said to him, “Who gives speech to mortals? Who makes them mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak.”

Of course, Moses objected some more, and God suggested that his brother Aaron could help out with some of the speeches, and that God would help them BOTH to know what to say.

But today’s reading from Deuteronomy is a portion of one of Moses’ great speeches to the people of Israel. It seems that God really did give him the words – God really was with his mouth – because Moses’ speech is a brilliant example of the rhetorician’s art. It is such an inspiring message that one commentator calls it “one of the most brilliant dramatic compositions that the Old Testament contains.”

Very much like in Jesus’ sermon centuries later, Moses is calling the people to live according to the commandments. You can imagine the huge crowd of people gathered to listen to their great, old leader. Moses has led them out of slavery in Egypt and through the wilderness. Under his leadership, they have been fed and sustained through the challenges of their desert wanderings. They have received the commandments of God, and unfortunately, they have often ignored or broken them. But they have made it through.

And now they stand… ready to enter the Promised Land, and to begin a new life of hope and promise. Moses is an old man who is about to die, and this is his last opportunity to speak to the people – to guide them, to encourage them, to send them into the land to be God’s faithful people.

The lectionary didn’t include my favourite verses from Moses’ speech as he encourages the people to know and believe that they DO have the capacity to be God’s faithful people:

Moses says, Surely this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven that you should say, “Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.

Perhaps Moses is thinking back to his own fear and trepidation about becoming God’s servant and God’s voice to the people. He didn’t know what to say! He didn’t know how to speak! But God gave him the words, and God led him all the way.

And now the people must go on without him. They must listen themselves for God’s voice. They must pay attention to God’s commandments and live as God’s people without Moses’ guidance – but with God’s help, and with God’s Word in their hearts.

What is so powerful about this scene is that it is a new beginning for God’s people. They’re about to enter a new land. They have a chance for a fresh start. They can put behind them all the mistakes they made in the wilderness – how they grumbled and complained, how they bowed down to idols and worshipped other gods.

This is a turning point for the people of Israel. It is an opportunity to decide whether they truly want to be God’s people. They get to choose.

Moses says, See, I have set before you life and prosperity, death and adversity. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land… I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life… Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.”

In studying Moses’ powerful and life-changing speech, biblical scholars have determined that the speech was probably appended to the original law book many centuries after God’s people had settled in the new land. In fact, the person who composed the speech was likely not Moses at all. The author was probably a Deuteronomistic writer during the period of the exile in Babylon.

Like any great sermon writer, this author was telling the story of God’s people in relationship with God. He was telling the story of the ancestors about to begin new life in a new land… a story that was oh so relevant for that same people centuries later as they were hoping and preparing to find their way back to the Promised Land again.

And so even though Moses’ speech seems to be for the Israelites as they prepare to enter the Promised Land for the first time, it is also for the Israelites in exile years later. Once again, they are in the wilderness; once again, they are wrestling to break free from bondage to alien nations; once again, Israel would have to cross the Jordan and repossess the land.

Israel is once again “poised on the edge of the land” exactly as its ancestors were when they stood across the Jordan in the plains of Moab. And there is a demand made on the present generation, the same demand that had been made on every Israelite since the original Horeb covenant had been established.

They must choose between following the way of God or abandoning it. They could either remain totally loyal to the covenant, obeying its commandments, or they could turn away; but in doing so they would also abandon the promise of hope altogether.

Presbyterians don’t often talk about making the choice to follow God. Our Reformed Theology includes the Doctrine of Predestination – the idea that GOD has chosen us for salvation, that it’s not something that WE have the power even to choose.

But the reality of our experience is that we do choose how we will live. We do choose how we will live with our family members, and how we will treat our neighbours. We do choose how we will spend our time and our money. We do choose whether or not our faith with impact our decision-making. And we do choose what we will teach our children about God and life and faith.

Consider the Drover family today. Doug and Vickie are “poised on the edge of the land.” They are at a new beginning as they welcome Samuel into their family, and their relationship with him is just beginning. And like God’s people Israel, they have been given the opportunity to choose. And they have chosen life. They have chosen to commit themselves to nurture Samuel in faith, to share with him the love of God, and to teach him about Jesus Christ our Lord.

I wish that I could say that this will be the last time they need to choose. But I am sure that like the Israelites, there will be times when they make mistakes, when they turn away, and when they will be called to return to God and to choose once again.

But that is what the good news of the Gospel is all about. It’s not that we don’t need to live by the commandments. It’s not that God no longer demands anything of us. It’s that no matter what happens, there will always be another opportunity to choose. God’s forgiveness and God’s grace never run out. And today, we are “poised on the edge of the land” once again.

I invite you to pause and to consider your own life and where you’re at right now. Is God calling you to choose life today for the very first time? Or is God calling you to choose life once again, and to renew your commitment to following God in Jesus Christ our Lord?

Jesus’ sermon acknowledges the fact that as human people we are prone to make mistakes and to fall away at times from the high standards that the commandments set out for us. And dramatically, Jesus tells us “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away… and if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.”

Did he mean it literally? I don’t think so. But I think he did mean that we should make a deliberate and bold decision to get rid of the sin in our lives, to turn away from evil and turn towards God… and to choose life.

If it means gouging out our eyes… if it means cutting off our hands… if it means giving up our lives and dying with Christ, then we must do that. And that is what baptism is all about. In our baptism, we die to sin, and we are raised to new life with Christ. Baptism is forgiveness. Baptism is a new beginning. Baptism is the opportunity leave behind the mistakes of the past, and to choose life.

I don’t imagine that many of you will remember this sermon. I probably won’t even remember it myself, and I’m the one who wrote it and preached it. But I do hope and pray that you will remember your baptism… that you will remember that today and each day is another opportunity to live into your baptismal promises… that today and each day is another opportunity to choose life.

May God bless our choosing and our living in relationship with God and with one another. Amen.

Last May our church had the opportunity to send a team of four people to a conference in Niagara Falls called “Stewards by Design.” Patti Polowick, Blair Lukan, Dorothy de Bruijn, and I took part in this three day conference, organized by the Presbyterian Church in Canada, to assist congregations in growing their ministries as good stewards of the many gifts that God has blessed us with.

The keynote speaker for “Stewards by Design” was Kennon Callahan – a minister, author, and conference leader for many years. We learned about Callahan’s concept of the “Twelve Keys to an Effective Church,” and we began to work together to analyze St. Andrew’s ministry – thinking about our strengths, our resources, and our limitations as a congregation of Christ’s Church in Saskatoon.

The core idea of Callahan’s books and conferences is that healthy and effective congregations develop strengths in at least 8 or 9 of the twelve key areas. And we do it by first identifying our current strengths and working to strengthen those areas even more. The four of us who attended the conference could probably tell you what WE think are St. Andrew’s greatest strengths… But the process of congregational development works best if we can identify our strengths together, and decide together what areas we should work on.

One of the great things about Callahan’s model is that we don’t have to be great at everything, and we don’t have to do everything. We can choose what sounds fun, exciting, and engaging to strengthen the strengths of our congregation. We can have fun while learning to do what we do best even better.

Maybe we will focus on creating stirring, helpful worship. Or maybe we will build significant relational groups among our members. Maybe we will emphasize and enhance the visibility of our church, or we could grow the gift of generous giving within our community.

What the Stewards by Design team would like to do is to have a Celebration Planning Retreat in early April. We’ll invite everyone to get together on the first Saturday in April to celebrate our strengths as a congregation and to make plans together for how to focus our energy over the next couple of years. What we decide at the planning retreat can be incorporated into the plans and goals that our Session and committees will be making for next year.

But first, we thought it would be helpful for us to learn about the Twelve Keys to an Effective Church. And so, over the next two months, we will share the twelve keys in worship – sometimes with puppets, as we did today, but sometimes in other ways as well.

The first key to an effective church is Mission and Outreach. It’s not that we HAVE to develop our mission and outreach program before we do anything else, but we have to know that mission and outreach is primary. Even if we could master all the other eleven keys, if we left out mission and outreach, we would have missed the point of what it means to be a church.

Speaking about the mission that we are called to as Christian churches, Kennon Callahan writes this: “So long as the Church seeks to BE the center of people’s lives it is no different from the other entities of our culture that clamor to gain the central place in people’s lives. [But] when the Church decides to be IN the center of people’s lives, the Church transcends the entities of the culture. It gives up its own self-seeking, survival-oriented tendencies and becomes an entity focused on compassion, on serving, sharing, and caring. Whenever the Church does this, the Church is truly the Church.”

Callahan suggests that we need to stop trying to get people to make the church the centre of their lives, and we need to think about how we can be IN the centre of THEIR lives – how we can love and serve and support the people in our community in the midst of their daily lives and needs and concerns.

The lectionary chose for us today just the perfect scripture readings for the topic of mission and outreach. And though the Gospel text was first written for Christian disciples of the late first century, it is no less relevant for disciples and churches today as we consider our mission. Matthew’s Jesus explains our mission by using three metaphors: We are the light of the world. We are the salt of the earth. We are a city on a hill.

What I want you to notice first is that Jesus doesn’t say, “You’ve GOT to be light” or “You’ve got to TRY HARDER to be salty.” He says “You ARE light. You ARE salt. It’s what God made you to be. It’s who you are.” Just like the conference title – “Stewards BY DESIGN” – It’s what God made us to be.

The second thing I’d like you to notice is that the identity and purpose of a disciple or a church is to be FOR the world. The community of Christians that Jesus describes does not exist for its own sake, but it exists for the sake of the world – even for the sake of the world that rejects or maligns, ignores or even persecutes the church.

A light does not exist for its own sake. Its sole purpose is to let other things be seen. Salt does not exist for its own sake. No, salt exists for seasoning, for preserving, for melting, for healing. If we are light and salt, then we exist for the world – for its illumination, for its healing, for its life. That is our mission and our identity as followers of Jesus.

Although it is our nature to be light and salt for the world – to preach the Gospel, to love our neighbours, and to work for justice and peace and goodness in all our relationships – the reality is that we often don’t live out our calling as God’s people. Very much like the Pharisees, we sometimes get wrapped up in the trappings of our religiosity. We practice our faith insofar as we find it personally helpful to do so. We worship, we pray, we read scripture, and we think about God because doing these things makes us feel good. It makes us feel righteous, and holy, and good. We get a lot out of our faith. We have good friends at church. We enjoy coming to worship.

It’s not that any of those things are wrong. It’s just that they are all missing the most important part of who we are as Christians. Jesus called the Pharisees hypocrites because their religion had become all about them and how pious they could be. They had missed the point that as God’s people we are made to be salt and light – we are made to be FOR the world.

There’s a strange bit in the Gospel passage in which Jesus talks about salt that has lost is saltiness. Salt that has lost its saltiness is useless, he explains, and unsalty salt will get thrown out. Unsalty salt? How can salt lose its saltiness? It can’t really… at least, not by some impossible chemical miracle… But salt can lose its saltiness by becoming so impure, so mixed with other elements that it loses its function.

So the metaphor is a warning… Yes, you are salt. But salt can lose its saltiness, and then it gets thrown away. Remember the Pharisees who lost the point of their faith. YOU must remember that you are salt… and salt has a purpose… salt has a mission. Salt is for healing and melting and seasoning and preserving. Salt isn’t just for the sake of being salt.

The salt and light sayings picture mission as inherent to discipleship, as saltiness is essential to salt and shining is essential to light. It doesn’t make sense if you have a light to cover it up and put it out by placing a bushel basket on top of it… But that is so often what religious people do.

In the time of the prophet Isaiah, God’s people were struggling with the purpose of their religion too. With all the troubles they were experiencing in life, the people of Israel were really getting into their religion. They were fasting and praying and trying to get God’s attention and help. But they were missing the point, the prophet explained. They were doing religion, but they were doing it for themselves. They were doing it to try to get something from God, and God wouldn’t put up with that sort of thing.

God explains, “Day after day [the people] seek me and delight to know my ways… [they worship me] as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God.” These are religious people, but they’re not LIVING according to God’s commandments. Through the prophet, God complains “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and [you] oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.”

Hypocrites! That’s what Isaiah is calling them because they have missed the point. God doesn’t want our empty rituals. God wants our faith to form us and equip us to be God’s people FOR the world!

As I was reading for today, I came across a quote from Clarence Jordan’s book called “Sermon on the Mount.” In it, he defines true fasting as “working so hard or being so committed to something that we forget to eat.” In this view, FASTING is a verb form of the adverb FAST, and it means to move so quickly and so intently towards a goal that all else is forgotten.

I believe THAT is the kind of religious practice that God calls us to… to be so intently salting and shining for the world that we practically forget our own needs and concerns. THAT is the fast that God would choose for us: “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke.” God would choose that we “share our bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into our house; when we see the naked, to cover them, and to help and support our own kin.”

With the metaphors of salt, light, and a city on a hill, Jesus strikes the death blow to all religion that is purely personal and private. The community of disciples is not meant to be an introverted secret society shielding itself from the world, but it is a city set high on a hill whose authentic life cannot be concealed.

Like the first disciples, we are called to the active mission of “letting our light shine” to “all.” But we do not generate the light any more than salt generates its own saltiness. The metaphors picture the church as “having-been-lit,” recipients of a light from which God is the source. We have not been lit for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world. And just as Jesus is light for a dark world, we are to be that light and shine that light as well.

Over the next couple of months, you’ll hear lots more about the Twelve Keys to an Effective Church. And I invite you to listen, to read, and to consider how God is calling us to be the most effective church we can be. May God help us to strengthen our strengths and to reach out in mission… letting our light shine in this community and throughout the world… for the sake of the world and the glory of God. Amen.

The Outreach Committee has designated this month as “February Food Frenzy.” You are invited to bring non-perishable food items for the Saskatoon Food Bank as part of your offering this month. There will be a basket in the entranceway of the church where you can place your food items.

• Saturday, Feb. 5th – Women’s Interchurch Council of Canada Festival Day from 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. This is a day of learning and sharing in preparation for the World Day of Prayer in March. Bring a bag lunch. Everyone is welcome.
• Sunday, Feb. 6th – Sunday morning bible study at 9:30 a.m. We will begin a new study from The Thoughtful Christian, titled “Gospel Portraits of Jesus.”
• Friday, Feb. 11th and 25th – Prayer Group at 11:00 a.m. Drop in and join us for prayer. We will reflect on scripture together and pray for the church, the world, and those in need.
• Saturday, Feb. 12th – Nursery/Toddler Valentine’s Party – 10 a.m. at the Lukans’ house, for our little ones and their families.
• Thursday, Feb. 17th – The Thursday Group meets in the lower hall at 1:30 p.m.
• Sunday, Feb. 20th – Deadline for submissions to the next issue of “Saints Alive” our church newsletter.
• Sunday, Feb. 20th and 27th – Sandwich Making Parties for Saskatoon Native Circle Ministry in the church kitchen following worship.
• Monday, Feb. 21st – Family Day Skate and Hot Chocolate – Everyone is welcome! Details will be announced soon.
• Monday, Feb. 21st – Hildur Hermanson Women’s Missionary Society meeting at 7:30 p.m.
• Wednesday, Feb. 23rd – Women’s League meeting at 10 a.m.
• Thursday, Feb. 24th – Youth Group – Mario Kart tournament.
• Friday, Feb. 25th – Kids’ Club afternoon and Blades Game in the evening.

Numbers 11:11-15
Psalm 13, Refrain #1
Mark 15:33-38

As most of you know, we have been celebrating the Psalms at St. Andrew’s this month, and last Sunday our focus was on Psalms of Praise and Thanksgiving. Now, I’m sorry for any of you who missed last Sunday because it was a great Sunday! With the theme of praise and thanksgiving, we got to pick some joyful, lively music, and there was a wonderful spirit of rejoicing in the church.

I think it worked out really well. But it wasn’t just that we had planned a good service… it was also the fact that everyone came in to church in a great mood! Someone told me afterward that the entranceway before church last Sunday was full of laughter and excitement and joy. Do you remember why? It was warm outside!

That was the morning that we finally got a break from the bitter cold of a Saskatchewan winter, and we all came in to church rejoicing. It was a great day! And most of us arrived at worship more than ready to praise and thank God for all God’s blessings, including the relatively warmer temperature.

But happy and joyful are not always the perfect words to describe the people of God as we gather for worship. In fact, even though the mood was pretty light last Sunday, I am quite sure that there were at least a few worshippers among us who were feeling less than ecstatic. There were some of us feeling stressed and tired. There were some of us feeling guilty and anxious. There were some of us feeling sad and disappointed.

One of the gifts of the Psalms of Lament is that they remind us that no matter what we may be feeling, we are invited and called to lift up our prayers to God. When the psalmists felt sad, they told God about it. When the psalmists felt stuck, they called out for God’s help. When they were frustrated and angry, they cried and screamed for God’s attention. And when they felt abandoned or alone, they lifted up their voices until God’s presence was made known to them.

The Psalms do not paint an unrealistic picture of a life lived in a perfect world. Nor do they ask us to pretend that everything in our lives is great all the time. The tree mentioned in Psalm 1 has deep roots so that it can survive when the storms come. And the righteous one does not fear bad news, but also does not stop suffering simply because he or she has faith in God.

The prayers of the Psalms reflect life lived in a broken world. Indeed, within the 150 Psalms, there are more prayers for help or laments than there are prayers of praise and trust. And these prayers can teach us how to pray and have relationship with God, even in the darkest of times.

As I mentioned last week, most of us have been taught to pray rather decently and in order. We have learned to pray by respectfully bowing our heads, folding our hands, and offering our prayers for others to God, always adding “if it be thy will.” We are polite. We are not selfish. We pray for those who have greater needs that we do. And we make our requests quietly and humbly, and often without too much determination.

The psalmists who prayed these prayers for help had a different way of praying. You see, laments centre on the needs of the one praying. They’re not prayers for our neighbours, but they are focused on the relationship and the bond between God and the one praying.

God is addressed differently too, with none of the nice salutations that we often put in our formal prayers. Laments are blunt. They name the problems, and they demand that God do something to help.

Think, for a moment, of the people (or the person) in your life with whom you can be blunt. With whom would you risk sharing your troubles, your complaints, your feelings of hurt or abandonment?

Real relationship means real conversation, no matter what form that conversation takes. And so in the prayers of lament we can see the strength of relationship between God and the one praying, even when things are not so wonderful.

To the ones praying these prayers, God is not a deity that one approaches tentatively, asking for things under certain parameters, but is instead one that is to be engaged in honest and open conversation about one’s hurts and one’s needs.

We tend to organize our prayers into nice arrangements of words that are pleasing to the ear, while at the same time we confess that God knows everything we think before we even say it. So why censor our words to God?

A few weeks ago, I told you about an episode of a TV medical drama in which there was a shooting on a college campus in Seattle, and the medical staff are trying to cope with the onslaught of seriously injured patients. In one case, several doctors are working on a young man, trying to get his heart pumping again after his condition suddenly worsens.

One of his doctors, Miranda, is on the edge of a breakdown after losing so many patients and feeling helpless to do anything to save them. In a moment of despair and frustration, she looks up into the air and cries out: “You bastard! Not this boy, too! Not this boy!” And then she leaps back into the work of saving his life.

Miranda’s cry for help was so sudden, and so quick, and so quickly over that some viewers may have missed it. Or they may have wondered who on earth she was yelling at. But it was clear to me that Miranda’s cry was a lament to God. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t nicely worded. And there was no salutation at all!

But there was also no pause to consider whether God might be present or listening. There was no wondering whether a prayer might be helpful. It was simply a cry for help to a God was obviously near, who has simply got to care, and who ultimately must have the power to do something about this terrible situation. Miranda’s cry was a prayer of faith born of relationship with the God of the universe.

Censoring our words says that the relationship has limits and parameters, but telling God how we feel, even when we think that God is the problem, is being all that God created us to be.

As modern people, we still ask, “Is it OK to make such demands of God, to speak to God in this way?” Where from an ancient perspective, the opposite question would be the one they would ask of us: “When and how did it become NOT OK to make such demands of God?” When did it become NOT OK to tell God just how we feel about life and even about God? How long can you have true relationship with someone when you cannot speak your mind, when you cannot ask the questions that are the most troubling?

If we don’t make the mistake of skipping over the more difficult passages in the Bible, the stories of Scripture can give us permission to honestly express our doubts and fears and struggles to God.

As a church leader, Moses’ lament is perfect for those times when I am feeling stressed, frustrated, or overwhelmed by the responsibilities of ministry. When I feel surrounded by only the voices of complaint, I can join in Moses’ cry to God: “I am not able to carry all this people alone, for they are too heavy for me!” And I can remember how their journey went on, and how God went with them, and how they did eventually make it to the Promised Land.

Perhaps there are times when you feel that sense of being overloaded and overwhelmed… in your work, in your family responsibilities, or in your church commitments. Perhaps there are times when things just don’t seem to go right… when one problem after another seems to come your way… when you have more than your share of illness, and pain, and disappointment, and loss.

Listen to the cry of the psalmist in Psalm 13: “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?”

When we read the psalmist’s words, we don’t know anything about the situation that is causing him such sorrow. The psalmist’s prayer for help speaks only of the feelings, not the events. All of us have different events that precipitated feelings such as this, but we all know the feelings being expressed. The poetry brings forth memories for us of times when we were in the same emotional space.

But Psalm 13 and most of the prayers for help have a surprising turn. The prayer moves from demanding that God act immediately to a declaration of the person’s trust in God. In verse 4 the psalmist is complaining, “my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.” But then in verse 5 we suddenly hear him say, “But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

It’s a strange and confusing gap. What happened between verse 4 and verse 5 to change the psalmist’s attitude so dramatically? What happened to renew his hope? What happened to bring him back to place where he can rejoice and sing praise to the Lord?

Just as the raw emotional images of the Psalm trigger us to remember our own pain, the gap here causes us to struggle to understand it and possibly to remember how we have survived other difficult times to stand again and offer praises to God.

It’s difficult to name what happens in that gap… how mourning can turn into dancing… how sorrow can subside and leave space in our hearts for joy… but the wonder and mystery of God can indeed make it possible.

This morning we read a familiar passage from the Gospel of Mark. It was the story of Jesus’ death on the cross. And as the author of Mark’s Gospel tells it, Jesus calls out to God in pain and anguish just before he dies. But it’s not just any cry. Jesus calls out a question: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

It’s a cry that can make us wonder… Had God truly abandoned Jesus on the cross? Was he really alone and without any help? Or, had Jesus suddenly lost his faith? In the midst of such terrible pain, did he think that God was nowhere to be found?

But what we may not notice at first is that Jesus is quoting from a Psalm. He’s quoting the first line of Psalm 22, one of the great Psalms of Lament. And like most of the Psalms of Lament, Psalm 22 is a plea for God’s help, followed by expressions of hope, and trust, and praise.

The psalmist cries out: “O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.” And then he proclaims: “Yet you are holy… In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them.” Again, we may wonder what happened in the gap… how the psalmist moved from despair to hope in God.

There’s a gap in the Gospel story too. After Jesus dies that horrible death on the cross, they take his body and put it securely inside a tomb and they go home. And then there’s a whole missing day… a gap that lasts through the Sabbath day until Sunday morning.

But on the third day Jesus is raised, and he appears to some women, and later to the disciples… and they are called, and inspired, and sent out to bring life and hope and joy to the world in the name of Jesus Christ, the Risen One.

May God be with us and hear our cries when we are filled with sorrow and sadness and pain. May God be with us in the gap, and may God lead us once again to life and hope and joy and praise. Amen.

1 Chronicles 13:1-8
Psalm 147
Matthew 19:13-15

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord! (sung, with congregation joining in)

Psalms of praise and thanksgiving are often the most popular, familiar, and well-loved of all the psalms. They are the prayers that appear most often in the lectionary and in the Christian church’s great festival Sundays. And if you flip through the book of Psalms, you’ll find a praise psalm within seconds. There are lots of them! And many of them have been set to music, so you can find lots of them in our hymn books as well.

In some ways, psalms of praise and thanksgiving are simple. They express the kind of thoughts and feelings that seem appropriate for church. They tell of God’s goodness and power and love. They say thank you to God for all the good things God has done.

Psalms of praise fit right in with our expectations of what worship should include, and they seem appropriate for all of our celebrations. We stand, we sing, we read, we sit. Praise done orderly and respectfully, just like the way we pray.

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

Our ancient ancestors had a different way of praying, and they also had a different way of singing God’s praises. From the book of Chronicles, we heard a short description of what their praise was like: David and all Israel were dancing before God with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and cymbals and trumpets.

Imagine… if when the organ or the piano began to play for a hymn in church… imagine the whole congregation leaping to your feet… throwing your arms in the air… and dancing and singing and praising God with all your might. Imagine praising God with so much energy and enthusiasm that when you’re finished, you’re ready to lie down for a nap!

As a minister, I can’t just suggest that we all try praising God like that… with all our might. It’s something that you’ve got to feel like doing. And perhaps as Presbyterians, we don’t focus very much on feeling in church. We usually get stuck doing a lot of good thinking instead, and forget to let ourselves feel very much.

One of the most valuable things about the Book of Psalms is that they invite us to feel. We read the words of our ancestors in faith as they poured out their hearts to God with every emotion known to humanity. Next week we will talk about the psalms of lament… the prayers of pain and anguish and complaint addressed to God. The psalms of lament can give us an outlet to unleash our pain and hurt before God’s throne, and to know that God will accept us no matter what we are feeling.

Likewise, the psalms of praise invite us to unleash all our joy and thanksgiving before God as well.

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

I wonder if this ability to praise with abandon is part of why Jesus told his disciples that the kingdom of heaven belongs to the little children. Have you ever watched a child when she or he is ecstatically happy? I remember watching a video of one of the young members of our congregation when she found out that she was going to be a big sister. It was amazing!

As soon as she understood that there was a baby growing inside her mother, as soon as she knew that she was going to be a big sister, she let out a shriek of joy. And that wasn’t it. She laughed, and jumped up and down, and stood on her head, and enjoyed the moment. I can’t remember the last time I had a reaction quite like that to even the most wonderful news!

Yet it is exactly that type of emotional unleashing that is embedded in praise.

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

One author suggests praise is the speech of the Kingdom of God. In Jesus Christ, we have seen that we live in the kingdom of God, but that the full kingdom is still to be realized. Praise belongs in both places, but it will reach its full-throated celebration only at the great banquet of God, where all find a place at the table of grace and the cries of sorrow are no more.

Praise will ultimately replace all the other forms of speech in the psalms, for praise is the language of God’s kingdom. We can whirl and dance and sing and praise like children when all the burdens of life are lifted. Until then, we can praise God with all our might, even if our joy is fettered by our life lived in this world.

Sometimes praise doesn’t come easily for us. Sometimes the challenges and trials of life seem ready to overwhelm us… and even if we come to church in those times, we may find it hard to praise.

But I’m reminded of a story that I heard on the news recently. CBC was doing a story about Haiti one year later, one year after the devastating earthquake. The reporter interviewed a doctor who had been working there in the midst of the crisis, and the doctor shared about two women who had been treated in the clinic… women who each needed to have a limb amputated because of severe injuries.

And as the amputations were taking place… right next to each other, these two women sang. They sang songs of praise and thanksgiving to God. They sang with all their might until they were through the crisis.

The apostle Paul instructed the Thessalonian Christians to “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, [and] give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

Yesterday afternoon, I had the opportunity to visit some of our church members who are at St. Paul’s Hospital at the moment. Finally, the Norovirus quarantine was lifted for most of the hospital, and PRAISE GOD! visitors were allowed to come into the hospital again.

Sometimes when a minister goes visiting in the hospital, she ends up saying a lot of prayers for healing and strength and peace and hope. But yesterday’s visits were filled with prayers of thanksgiving and praise.

First I went up to the ICU to visit Merv Cole. But when I got there, I discovered that he wasn’t. They had just moved him onto another ward for people who are less critically ill. That was a good sign, and a reason to praise.

Then when I got to his room, I saw how much he had improved since before the quarantine. As soon as I walked into the room, I heard his voice greeting me and I smiled. No, I didn’t shriek with joy or jump up and down, but Merv’s voice alone was reason to give thanks and praise to God.

You see, Merv was struck by a sudden and terrible illness that caused total paralysis in mid-December. He spent weeks not being able to move, with a machine breathing for him. Day by day, there have been small improvements, and Merv is on the long road to recovery. But it was only a few days ago that he had improved enough in his ability to breathe for the tracheotomy to be removed.

Next, I went to see Ann Van Huizen, who greeted me with a smile and a joyful hug. Ann seemed to have improved as well. She seemed more energetic, and we had a good conversation. But what struck me the most was her ability to keep on praising and thanking God in the midst of her situation.

She thanked God for the hospital. She thanked God for caring nurses. She thanked God for the room she was in with a view of the hallway where she could watch all the people coming and going and working nearby. Now, she didn’t thank God for the “mush” that was to be her dinner that evening, but she was thankful for the ice cream, and she smiled.

It’s unusual for me to share about hospital visits like this. But both Merv and Ann indicated that I could share with you about how they are doing. And I hope that their stories today will inspire you to praise and thank God yourself. Give thanks to the God that gave them life and breath. Give thanks to the God who was with them through their struggles. Give thanks to the God who is walking with them on the road to recovery.

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

As you know, I love to sing. And joyful songs of praise are some of my favourites. When we start to sing a song of praise, I can easily get lost in the music. I can forget about my worries and the things that are stressing me out. I can use my voice, and my breath, and my energy to make a joyful noise, to make a beautiful sound to praise God.

I’ve heard others say that’s why they love to sing in the church choir… because they get a whole hour and half every week to sing praise to God, and it feels good!

But the hymns and psalms that we sing and say on Sunday mornings are not our only opportunities to enter into that praise. And we don’t have to join the choir in order to praise God throughout the week (though of course, the choir would certainly welcome some new members if you want to give it a try!)

In fact, we are invited to pour out our praise and thanksgiving to God in everything that we do throughout the week. I believe that God desires and deserves our praise… but not only with our words and our songs… God also hopes that our daily lives with reflect our praise and thanksgiving.

We can praise God by caring for God’s creation – by doing our best to reduce, reuse, and recycle, by using less energy, conserving water, and encouraging our governments and industries to care for the environment as well.

We can praise God by considering the poor and the marginalized in our society – by supporting people who are in desperate need, and advocating for those who are suffering from injustice.

We can praise God by treating everyone we meet with respect – by pausing to remember that each one is a child of God, and giving our neighbours the benefit of the doubt.

We can praise God by caring for our family members with diligence and love – by spending time with our children, by visiting our aging relatives, and by valuing the time we have to be with our spouses or our siblings or our cousins.

We can praise God by doing our daily work for the glory of God. Whether we are writers or chemists, bus drivers or doctors, whether we work in retail, in food service, in business, whether we are paid for what we do, or whether we volunteer, we can offer up our work as our praise. We can thank God for the energy and intellect that God has given us to do our work, and we can offer that work back to God.

Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah! Everybody praise the Lord!

As we celebrate the Psalms of Praise and Thanksgiving today, may God give us the courage to unleash our joy and thanksgiving, and to praise God with all our might, both in our worship and throughout our lives. Amen.

Art and Poetry Contest:
Some of you have been working on creative projects for the church library’s art and poetry contest. Everyone can participate, whether or not you think of yourself as an artist or a poet. The idea is to take a Psalm (or part of a Psalm), reflect on it, and respond by creating a poem, song, or artistic creation to express what the psalmist is saying.

• Theme: The Psalms (Choose: Psalm 13, Psalm 23, Psalm 147 or your favourite Psalm)
• Prizes will be given according to the following categories: Grades 4-8, 9-12, & Adults
• Entry forms & poster boards available at the church library
• Contest entries will be displayed in the church library and lower hall.
• The deadline for submissions has been extended! You are invited to prepare your art or poetry and to submit it to our librarian, Mary Jane Hanson, by Sunday, January 30^th. All submissions will be shared and prizes will be awarded at the “Celebration of the Psalms” program and potluck supper on January 30^th at 4:00 pm.

Potluck Supper & Program to “Celebrate the Psalms”:
Children, youth, and adults alike are invited to the upcoming “Celebration of the Psalms” program and potluck supper on Sunday, January 30^th at 4:00 pm.

Please sign up on sheet by the library or phone Mary Jane Hanson (373-2254) if you would like to contribute to the program by sharing a poem, song, reflection, or any other creation inspired by the Psalms.

Also remember to bring some food to share for the potluck supper, as well as your own plate, cutlery, and cup (so we don’t have to use disposables!)

1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-34

Before I begin, I would like to say thank you to all of you for welcoming me this morning, and thank you to Father Tony for inviting me to share my reflections on the scriptures with you. As we begin this Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, it is good for us to worship, to pray, and to share across denominational lines, as we seek to grow together in unity and peace.

As Tony mentioned, I am the minister at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, just down 20^th Street at Spadina Crescent. I am pleased to see that there are a few members of my congregation here at St. Mary’s this morning, and I would encourage the members of St. Mary’s Parish, that you are most welcome to worship with us at St. Andrew’s later this morning at 11 a.m. If you decide to join us, you will get to hear Father Tony preaching, as well as to experience worship in the Reformed Tradition, just as we are sharing in your liturgy now.

Although our worship practices have some differences, one of the things that we share is the practice of following a lectionary of Sunday scripture readings. The Roman Lectionary and the Revised Common Lectionary are not identical, but most Sundays we hear and reflect on at least some of the same readings. This morning, all four readings are the same (including the psalm), with only some variation in the selection of verses.

From 1 Corinthians, the Roman Lectionary includes only the first three verses of Paul’s letter to the Corinthian Christians in the middle of the first century. As you may know, ancient letters usually followed a standard format which included beginning with a formal greeting.

First, the letter would identify who the letter was from. And so, Paul’s letter begins: “Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes.”

Next, an ancient letter would include a sentence indicating to whom the letter was addressed: “To the church of God that is in Corinth,” Paul’s letter continues, “to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours.”

So verses one and two are simply the “TO” and “FROM” lines of the letter, like the address and return address on the outside of a modern envelope. And verse three is a short greeting in the name of God… a greeting from Paul and Sosthenes to the Corinthian Christians: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

When I first read those three verses in the Roman Lectionary, I wondered why the reading had been cut so short. I thought it was comparable to receiving a letter in the mail and being allowed to see who it was from, reading “Dear Amanda,” and then being made to stop. I wanted to know what came next, what the letter was going to be about.

Well, the Revised Common Lectionary does provide a few more verses. And when I read Paul’s words of thanks to God for the Corinthian Christians and the variety of spiritual gifts with which they had been blessed, I thought they were wonderful words for this Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.

You see, I may not be very old, but I feel like I’ve been praying for the unity of the Christian Church for a long, long time. The same week that I began my seminary training, I met the Roman Catholic man who would soon become my husband. And as we have lived an interchurch life together – praying together, sharing our faith, and worshipping together in both of our traditions for the past ten years – I have experienced the variety of spiritual gifts within our churches.

Just as Paul thanked God for the gifts of the Corinthians despite the conflict and brokenness that plagued their internal relationships and hindered their unity, I have come to treasure the variety of gifts that are expressed particularly in our Presbyterian and Catholic traditions.

In my own Reformed Tradition, I appreciate the emphasis on scripture study and biblical preaching. I value the partnership between clergy and lay people in the decision-making courts of the church at all levels. And I could not fulfill my own calling as a preacher without the openness of my church to recognizing the gifts and callings of both men and women to the Ministry of Word and Sacraments.

But when I worship with my husband in his Catholic parish, I am blessed by another set of gifts. I have come to appreciate the rhythm of the liturgy… as our prayers move from our heads to our hearts, and it’s almost as if we are breathing our prayer to God. I treasure the emphasis on the Sacraments, the frequency of Communion, and the physicality of worship expressed in sign, symbol, and movement. And as a leader within my own church, there are certainly times when I long for a good bishop to give guidance and pastoral care to clergy and congregations.

As a Presbyterian who has spent time in the Catholic Church, I can honestly say with Paul that “there are a variety of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are a variety of services, but the same Lord; and there are a variety of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone,” and the body of Christ with its many members is yet called to be one body. Just as the eye cannot say it to the hand, we cannot say to one another, “I have no need of you.”

But this morning’s reading of 1 Corinthians from the Roman Lectionary ends after the greeting. It doesn’t get into Paul’s thanksgiving to God for the variety of gifts within the Corinthian Church. Instead, it begins in exactly the place where I believe we need to begin as Christian churches who are seeking unity. It begins by acknowledging and naming our common identity as the saints of God.

I should mention, in case you aren’t too familiar with the Corinthian Church of the first century… The Corinthian Christians were deeply divided. All kinds of reports had been getting back to Paul about the conflicts and issues within their church.

Some of them had the special gift of speaking in tongues, and they looked down on those who didn’t share that gift. And among other things, they were arguing about how to celebrate the Lord’s Supper and about appropriate ways for women to participate in worship and church leadership.

Like Christians today, the Corinthians were naming their affiliations to particular leaders and positions. They were saying “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,”or “I belong to Cephas.”

And so Paul begins his letter by claiming his authority as an apostle who is called by Christ, and by confirming the Corinthians’ calling as well. No matter what conflicts or divisions or issues they may have with one another, they remain, in Paul’s view – “those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.”

And this identity as God’s holy ones, called to follow Jesus and live like him, is a shared identity… shared “with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours.”

Before Paul could even begin to address the issues in Corinth, before he could recognize their gifts or help them to see the giftedness of their neighbours, the Corinthian Christians needed to see and acknowledge their shared identity as Christians.

Without that first and critical step, divided churches will always be suspicious of one another. We’ll always be wary of sharing too much, of changing too much, of opening ourselves too much… for fear of losing our faith. And we will remain divided. We will remain separated. We will struggle along… holding on tight to the gifts of our particular traditions, but lacking in all the other gifts that our Christian neighbours could so easily share with us… if only we were open to receiving them.

But let’s pause and consider the Gospel text that Father Tony shared with us this morning. It’s a story from the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry in the world. Before he began, a community of followers had already formed. They were the disciples of John the Baptist. They were going out into the wilderness to be baptized by John, and they were turning their lives towards God, and looking for the One that John told them was to come.

Last Sunday you will have heard the story from Matthew’s Gospel about the day that John baptized Jesus. It was a life-changing moment for Jesus, when he heard God’s voice of blessing and was empowered to begin his work in the world.

But it must have been a life-changing moment for John also. He had a ministry. He had followers. He was likely a gifted preacher and leader, and he had a pretty good idea of what God was calling him to do.

But he somehow knew that the ministry God called him to was not about him. It was so much bigger than him! His job was only to prepare the way and to point to the Christ. In the same way, God has not called us to be Presbyterians or Catholics, or to build up a following of faithful Protestants or Evangelicals or Orthodox Christians.

The day after the baptism of the Lord, John saw Jesus coming towards him, and he declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” John pointed to the Christ and said, “It’s not about me. It’s all about Jesus. Follow him.”

I think we do need to both treasure the traditions and gifts of our churches, and to share them with the wider Christian community. But at some point, we need to learn from the humility of John, and begin to point away from our particular traditions and practices, to point away from our churches, and to point towards Christ.

“It’s not about us,” we will say, “It’s about him. It’s about Jesus. We have seen for ourselves, and we testify that this is the Son of God.”

There is a moment in your liturgy when the priest invites you to share that kind of humility. He holds up the bread and the wine and declares, “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Happy are we who are called to his supper.” And you respond, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. But only say the word, and I shall be healed.”

This week, Christians around the world will gather ecumenically to pray for the unity of the church. I hope that you will join in those prayers. And I invite you to join me in praying two things in particular… Pray that Christians around the world will have the opportunity to meet and discover in one another our common identity as disciples of Christ, our common faith, and our common calling to be the saints of God. And pray that Christians and churches around the world will embrace the humility of John, so that we can learn to point away from ourselves and towards Christ Jesus our Lord.

Lord, as churches, as communities, and as individuals, we are not worthy to receive you. We are broken. We are divided one from the other. But only say the word, and we shall be healed. Amen.

“Psalms of Trust: Learning to Live Without Fear”

I watched a transformation taking place on Thursday evening. If anyone else watched the medical drama “Grey’s Anatomy” this week, then you also got to witness the transformation from fear to trust, from despair to hope, and from giving up to determination to work for the good of those who are suffering. Of course, the show is only fiction. But it’s fiction that in many ways mirrors reality, and that reflects on the struggles of real people in the world today.

First of all, you need to know the background. Last season, the Seattle hospital and its employees experienced a traumatic event. A grief-stricken man entered the hospital with a gun and terrorized the staff and patients, injuring many people and killing several as well. And many of the characters of the show have not been the same since. One surgeon has been too scared to operate. Another continues to struggle with feelings of powerlessness when she is unable to save a patient. Still others are crippled by fear and the memories of that awful day.

Not everyone has experienced that kind of trauma in life, but most of us have seen it on TV. And not just on dramatic television programs… We’ve seen it on the news… from shootings in schools and churches to bombings in the streets or on the subways, from beheadings on buses to planes crashing into towers.

I had finished writing my sermon yesterday before I turned on the evening news to hear about another example of a horrific shooting, this time in Tuscon, Arizona. And so there is no doubt… These are things that really do happen in our world and even in our country. And even if we know that the chances of our being directly affected by something like this is very low, we are affected because we now live in a culture that is deeply shaped by fear. (Perhaps not as strongly as in the US, but fear still has a huge impact on us.)

Beth LaNeel Tanner, in her book “The Psalms For Today” wonders when the US became a society based on fear. She writes, “It is easy to answer that 9/11 changed everything,” but she argues that we were being sold fear long before that fateful day.

“What happened to Roosevelt’s brave answer in his 1933 Inaugural Address, ‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself’? We have become a society where fear sells everything from the latest weather forecast to new cars. Much of our economy is fuelled by tapping into our fears. If we own the right things, we can protect ourselves and our family from harm and that will make us happy.”

Though it may seem like there has been an increase in terrorism and fear over the last 10-20 years, Tanner points out that people have struggled with fear throughout history. She explains that “in ancient days the people not only believed in other gods, they also believed in magic and the ability of enemies to curse an opponent. This practice seems odd and superstitious to a modern reader. [But] to the ancient, an amulet was a powerful talisman against evil and the curse of another. A selected psalm or verses from several psalms were written and placed inside an amulet. They believed these amulets protected and surrounded the person with a constant prayer and acted as a shield from the evil in the world.”

Tanner does not suggest that we should write out psalms and wear them around our necks, but she suggests that reading, and reflecting on, and praying the psalms of trust may actually act as mental amulets against the negative messages of the society in which we live.

The ancient times, when these psalms were written and used, were also fearful times. Life was not easy. Starvation was a constant threat. Wars ravaged the nations again and again. Women and children had a very high mortality rate, and forty was considered old. The people who prayed these prayers may not have had twenty-four-hour news channels, but they knew life could be scary and violent.

In response to all the fears that surrounded them, they prayed and sang psalms that centre on trusting God instead of giving in to fear and violence. Psalm 27 is one of those powerful psalms. Listen to a few verses from Psalm 27:

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?
When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh –
my adversaries and foes – they shall stumble and fall.
Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear,
though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident.

One thing I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after:
to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple.

For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock.
Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

More than any other psalm, and perhaps more than any other text from the scriptures, Psalm 23 has provided comfort and encouragement, help and hope for people of faith throughout the centuries. It’s not that the psalm magically erases our problems or frees us from the difficulties of life. It can’t do that. But it proclaims God’s loving, caring, guiding presence through all the circumstances of our lives, and it gives us words in which to express our hope and trust in that God.

If you read Psalm 23 carefully, you will notice three distinct scenes in the psalm. First, there is a field or meadow. It’s an open space with green grass and a quiet lake nearby. The shepherd God has led you to this place, and provided for your basic needs. Life is good. You can imagine the warmth of the sun, the taste of the cool, clean water, and the rest on the luscious grass.

But just as our lives are rarely all sunshine and roses, in the next scene of the psalm you find yourself in a dark valley. I imagine it something like that dark forest in the movie “The Princess Bride.” There are dangers lurking around every corner ready to attack. It’s frightening and awful, and you emerge from it with scars. But there’s no avoiding it either, if you’re going to get home.

But the point of the psalm is that the shepherd God is right there with you. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me, your rod and your staff they comfort me.”

I said that I witnessed a transformation on the show “Grey’s Anatomy” this week. When their hospital was attacked by a crazed man with a gun, many of the characters were paralyzed by fear. In the midst of that traumatic event, they felt alone, powerless, and vulnerable. It was like they were crawling through Death Valley, each one struggling alone through the darkness.

But on this week’s episode (months later in the lives of the characters) another trauma takes place. A young man rages around his Seattle college campus shooting students until he is taken down by a police officer. Once again, the hospital staff are overwhelmed by victims of a horrific attack, and many of them seem on the edge of breaking down from the pressure and the memory of the earlier attack.

Of course, no one stops to read Psalm 23, and there’s only a passing reference to the presence of God. But there is a moment, in the middle of the crisis and chaos of tending to so many severely injured students. A few medical staff and a few family members of the patients stand on a walkway at the hospital and look out the large windows at a crowd gathered outside. The people are gathered in a massive vigil of support. They have candles in their hands, and they are singing the college’s song.

And the point is that the staff and families are not alone. They are not abandoned. They may be walking through Death Valley, but there is a rod and a staff to comfort them, and they will make it through. And they do.

The final scene in the psalm is in a house, in a dining room. I see it in my mind’s eye kind of like the dining room in the Harry Potter movies… with long wooden tables overflowing with platters of delicious food and jugs of wonderful drinks.

The host at the meal is that same shepherd God, and the Lord has given you a special invitation to the feast. Maybe it’s the heavenly banquet that awaits us in the next life. Maybe it’s a hope and a promise for the future when God’s kingdom is finally complete. But I can’t help but notice the final line of the psalm: “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.”

I don’t think it’s an experience reserved for heaven. And it’s certainly not a special privilege meant for only a few special people. Even your enemies are there with you at the table, because God has the power to bring us all together.

Psalm 23 and the other Psalms of Trust do not carry the magical power to remove us from danger or protect us against negative events. But they can help us to know and to trust and to believe that God is with us through all the circumstances of our lives.

We can give thanks to God for the green pastures and still waters. We can lean on God through the dark and dangerous valleys. And we can respond to the invitation of God to come to the table… to worship, to be fed, and to be a part of the family of God.

As we reflect on the Psalms of Trust this week, may the faith, hope, and trust of the psalmist seep into our hearts and souls. Amen.

To get things started, the church library is having an art and poetry contest. Everyone can participate, whether or not you think of yourself as an artist or a poet. The idea is to take a Psalm (or part of a Psalm), reflect on it, and respond by creating a poem, song, or artistic creation to express what the psalmist is saying.

• Theme: The Psalms (Choose: Psalm 13, Psalm 23, Psalm 147 or your favourite Psalm)
• Prizes will be given according to the following categories: Grades 4-8, 9-12, & Adults
• Entry forms & poster boards available at the church library
• Contest dates: December 5^th to January 17^th. Entries will be judged by the Christian Education Committee on January 18^th. There will be a prize for each age group.Contest entries will be displayed in the church library and lower hall.
• Even if you miss the deadline you are invited to prepare your art and poetry to share with the congregation at the “Celebration of the Psalms” on January 30^th at 4:00 pm.

Sunday Morning Bible Study will resume on Sunday, January 9^th at 9:30 am with a 3-session study of the Psalms on January 9, 23, and 30. Copies of the study are available from Rev. Amanda if you would like to read ahead.

As most of you know, the Revised Common Lectionary of scripture readings provides four readings for each Sunday of the year. Normally it’s one from the Hebrew Scriptures, a Psalm, a Gospel reading, and another passage from the New Testament. Here at St. Andrew’s, we often read all four texts, even though only one or two can be the focus for the sermon. But sometimes I decide to focus the whole worship on only two or three readings, and actually dispense with reading the others. And today is one of those days.

What may be unusual about this morning though, is that I decided to skip the New Testament readings. The text from Hebrews was a highly theological piece about the suffering that Jesus endured and his ability to help people when they are experiencing suffering as well. And the Gospel text was from Matthew… the story about Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus fleeing to Egypt to escape the angry King Herod. (That one certainly makes sense for the Sunday right after Christmas.)

But this week, I was drawn to the Psalm and the reading from Isaiah that seemed to pick up a similar theme. It seemed like a wonderful thing to do during this week that is so full of gathering, and celebrating, and rejoicing. It seemed like a good thing to do for us to pause and give thanks to God, to praise God for all the good things that we experience in life.

I particularly like the way that Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the passage from Isaiah 63 puts it:

“I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings,
all the things God has done that need praising,
all the generous bounties of God,
his great goodness to the family of Israel –
Compassion lavished, Love extravagant.”

The prophet sounds just like a psalmist here, recounting God’s good deeds, and reminding God’s people to remember and to praise God.

The origin of this passage is that it was written in the post-exilic period… the time after the people of Judah and Jerusalem that had been sent into exile in Babylon had finally returned to the land that they loved. So when I first read it, I thought of it as a simple song of praise from the prophet.

Now that we’re back in Jerusalem, I’m going to make a list of all the wonderful things that God has done for us! God has been so good to us… getting our people out of slavery in Egypt, leading us through the wilderness, and bringing us into this good land, flowing with milk and honey. Yes, things were difficult for us for a while there… Babylon was a really tough time. But God has come through for us again. We’re back home in Jerusalem, and ready to praise God!

Perhaps you remember how God’s people complained and lamented when they were in exile. They felt that God had abandoned them there, and they seemed completely without hope. But now the years have passed, and they’ve made it home. Now they look back on their exile experience, and they see it differently. They look back, and they notice that God was actually with them, that God was actually helping them, that God was the one who got them through that difficult time and led them home again too.

The prophet has God declare, “Without question these are my people, children who would never betray me.” And the prophet explains that God became their Saviour. “In all their troubles, God was troubled, too. He didn’t send someone else to help them. He did it himself, in person. Out of his own love and pity, he redeemed them. He rescued them and carried them along for a long, long time.”

When I speak to people about their experience of God, I notice that many people can recognize God’s presence and help most clearly when they look back. When they’re right in the middle of a crisis, or deep in the experience of grief, or caught in the grip of pain and suffering, God may well be there… but the opportunities to notice God or to reflect on God’s presence may be fleeting.

But just like God’s people who had the opportunity to return from the exile, many of us are able to look back on the most difficult times in our lives and realize that God was indeed with us… with us in the people who stayed with us and helped us through, with us in the small blessings that lightened our burden, with us in the hope and encouragement that kept us going through the worst parts of our situation.

Just the other day, I was talking to someone who went through a rather traumatic medical procedure a few weeks ago. And he said, “You know, Amanda, I felt the presence of God around me through the whole thing. I was scared, and it was terrible, but the peace of God just seemed to surround me.”

Theologically speaking, we make an awful mistake on a regular basis. We do it, just like the people of Israel did it before us, and people after us will likely do it for years to come. When bad things happen… like exile to Babylon, like horrible car accidents, like random illnesses, like sudden losses of the people we love… we tend to ask, “What did I do to deserve this?”

We talk about the fact that we believe in a loving God. But then when something terrible happens, we try to figure out why God is doing this to us. Why did God let the Babylonians win? Why won’t God help us to get home again?

Isaiah provides us with another theology of suffering though. He tells us… When the people were troubled, God was troubled with them. When the people were suffering, God was suffering too.

And what is most interesting about this passage from Isaiah is that it’s not written after the fact, when all the suffering has come to an end, and everything is right and good for God’s people. Yes, they have made it back to Jerusalem, but their troubles are nowhere near over. If you read the verses that come before and after our passage, it becomes clear that the crisis is not yet finished. The city of Jerusalem and the temple are in ruins. They have returned to their homeland, but it’s no longer the land flowing with milk and honey that they expected.

And yet, the prophet raises his voice to praise God. He says, “I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings, all the things God has done that need praising, all the generous bounties of God, his great goodness to the family of Israel – Compassion lavished, love extravagant.”

I wonder. Is he simply reminding himself and the people that God has the power and the love to help them? God’s done it before… God could do it again. Or is he trying to remind God, himself? Remember how you helped us before? We are so grateful for that! Do you think you could help us out again?

Well, whatever the prophet’s intention, what is obvious is that he expects God to be present and active among God’s people. He expects God to be troubled when the people are troubled, and to come in person to help them. Isaiah expected that hundreds of years before God sent Jesus to make his presence and love incarnate in the world.

On Christmas Eve, we reflected on the idea from John’s Gospel that Jesus was God’s Word (God’s message to us) made flesh. Jesus came to physically embody God’s loving presence with us in the world. Now, I’ve heard a few people talk about seeing Jesus in their hospital room, or feeling Jesus’ hand holding theirs through a difficult time… but most of us can’t actually SEE Jesus today. What we do have is a little less blatant, but just as powerful. What my friend described as the peace of God surrounding him through a traumatic experience, must surely have been God’s Spirit.

And not only that, but Christ’s body is still physically present in the world. It’s present in the people of God, Christ’s body on earth today. Together, we are the ones who must be present with those who are suffering, who must share the sorrow of those who are grieving, who must provide hope and encouragement to those who are struggling.

Christmas is the perfect time to pause and remember that God came to us in person, in Jesus Christ. And God remains with us still through the power of the Holy Spirit within, and around, and between us, Christ’s body here on earth.

Let us praise God, together with all people and with all the earth. Praise the Lord! Amen.

The first eighteen verses of John’s Gospel (or the Prologue to John’s Gospel, as it is often called) is typically read in Christian churches at Christmas each year. In the church where I grew up, this passage was read every Xmas Eve at the evening worship service, usually by the same person.

George Lee was an elder at St. Giles, kind of a grandfather-figure to many of us kids, and George had just the right voice for reading the Prologue to John’s Gospel. It was a deep voice, and somewhat mysterious sounding. But it was more than just the sound of his voice, I think, that made his reading of those 18 verses so special to our community. It was also the way he read those poetic and powerful words.

Somehow you knew, as he read, that he truly believed what he was saying.  He proclaimed that the Word had existed from the beginning with God. He witnessed to the Word coming into the world, to its becoming flesh in Jesus Christ. And he called those who listened to accept the Word made flesh, to believe in him, and to come into relationship with God as God’s children.

All the scripture texts of Christmas are about the incarnation. They’re about God coming into the world as a human person – God becoming flesh and blood – experiencing the world from a human point of view – making connections with people on a human level. But this text is unique – it’s different. It contains none of the conventional elements of the Christmas story. Instead of manger, angels, shepherds, and magi, John 1:1-18 presents the church with its explicit theological vision of the difference the incarnation makes in the life of the world.

It begins with that mysterious and powerful image of Christ as the WORD…
In the beginning was the WORD,
and the WORD was with God,
and the WORD was God.

The phrase, “in the beginning,” draws both Christian and Jewish readers back to the opening of the Book of Genesis and the first creation story. “In the beginning” before there was anything else, there was God. And the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

You may remember that in that first creation story, God created everything that exists by speaking it into existence. God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind,” and it was so. God created by speech – by Word.

And then, as God continued in relationship to the human people that by the Word had been created, God continued to speak to them – to relate to them through the Word. God gave them instructions. God gave them Laws. God spoke to them through the prophets, and called the people to faithfulness in relationship with him.

John’s concept of the Word of God that existed from the beginning would have brought to mind for his readers both the creation stories of Genesis, as well as God’s continuing relationship with Israel through the Word, but it also carried with it associations to the Jewish Wisdom tradition. In the Book of Proverbs, we read about WISDOM, who has been God’s companion since “before the beginning of the earth.” Jewish Christians would have been familiar with WISDOM who existed from the beginning, working alongside God to accomplish God’s plan for humanity.

The author of John’s Gospel makes a shift in terminology though, from WISDOM OF GOD to WORD OF GOD, while retaining many of the same characteristics. WISDOM, from the Greek sophia, becomes WORD, from the Greek logos, and the switch from a feminine noun (sophia) to the masculine noun (logos) reshapes the wisdom tradition to reflect the historical reality of the incarnation.

The WORD of God came into the world and lived among human people. The WORD of God became flesh – became human – and lived as a man, Jesus of Nazareth. Emmanuel, God-with-us, The WORD, incarnate.

Commentaries on this particular passage from John’s Gospel go on and on about the terminology that the fourth Evangelist used. They speculate about whether this passage was originally an early Christian hymn, or whether parts of it were a hymn, later edited and added to by the Gospel writer. The commentators note the important theological themes that are introduced in this short passage, and they trace the ways in which they reappear throughout the Gospel stories.

But I think, on this Christmas Eve, I would like to talk about the incarnation as a divine act of LOVE. On Sunday, we lit the Candle of LOVE, and more than anything, LOVE is what Christmas is all about. LOVE is what the incarnation is all about.

God loved human people – God loved us so much – that he sent his only son. God sent Jesus – the WORD – into the world to live with and among us. It’s not that the WORD hadn’t already been active among us. It had… in the creation, in the Law, through the prophets… but we humans needed something more. We needed a personal encounter with God.

Imagine, for a moment, some long-estranged parents who have been trying to form a relationship with their daughter. The initial connection is there. The child is theirs because they created her. But right after birth, the daughter was taken away. She’s grown up away from her parents – away from any parents. She doesn’t even know that she has parents.

The mother and father desperately want to reconnect with their child. They want to care for her and nurture her. They want to know her, and teach her, and guide her into adult life. So they begin by writing some letters. They introduce themselves and explain that they created her and they want to be involved in her life. They give her some advice on how to live and explain some rules that will help her to get along well with her neighbours. They tell her that they love her and that they care about her well-being. They even invite her to come home, to live with them and learn from them. But the daughter doesn’t come home. She writes a quick note saying how nice it was to receive their letter, but then goes right back to her solitary life.

Over time, news comes back to the parents about their daughter, and they begin to worry even more. She’s had a string of broken relationships. She doesn’t seem happy at all, and she’s drowning her sorrows in alcohol and cigarettes. They even heard from a neighbour that she’d been arrested on some sort of charge recently – breaking and entering, or maybe it was possession of illegal substances. And still, no matter how often they write, she won’t seem to acknowledge them as her parents. She acts like they’re just trying to control her life and she stops even opening their mail.

So the parents send messengers to their daughter. They use people in her life that they can trust… people who believe that they truly are her parents. They look out for their daughter and give her advice for them. And it helps a bit, but soon enough she goes back to her old ways. She ignores the advice and begins to live only for the pleasure of the moment again.

he parents soon realize that the only way to reach her is to go to her in person – to speak to her in person. And so that’s what they do. They show up on her doorstep one afternoon and tell her, “Look, we’re your parents, and we’re here to help. We’re here to love you. We want a relationship with you.”

Now, perhaps the daughter won’t recognize her father and mother. She’s never really known them. She might reject them outright. She might not let them in the door, claiming she has no parents. But if she chooses to receive them, if she chooses to believe in them, she will be able to truly become their daughter. She will give them the opportunity to love her and care for her. She will have the opportunity to grow in love and wisdom, health and wholeness as she lives in relationship with her parents and learns from their example and their advice.

When the Word of God became flesh in Jesus of Nazareth and lived among us, that was God coming to us in person – God speaking to us in person. When Jesus taught the crowds in stories and parables and sayings, that was God coming in person to teach us. When Jesus multiplied the loaves, and shared bread with his disciples, that was God (in person) feeding and blessing his children. When Jesus healed the sick and cast out evil spirits, those were the hands of God touching and restoring his suffering people. When Jesus was rejected and tortured and killed, that was God loving us so much that he accepted our hatred. He wouldn’t fight back, but continued to love and forgive us. When Jesus rose from the dead, that was God showing us (in person) that love is stronger than hate, light is stronger than darkness, life is stronger than death.

This Christmas, we are celebrating the birth of Jesus once again. We are telling the stories about the angels and the birth, about the shepherds and the magi who came to worship and to bring gifts to the special child. But it wasn’t until later, when the child had grown into a man, that people began to know how truly special he was. It wasn’t until later that people began to believe that Jesus was the Word of God made flesh – incarnate – that he was God, in person, here on earth to love and reach out to his people, inviting us into relationship with God as his children.

In Jesus, may we hear God’s Word – God’s invitation to us this Christmas. May we turn to Jesus and believe and become children of God once again. Amen.

“We are invited to say “YES” to God”

The Gospel story that is set for this Sunday in the 3-year lectionary cycle of readings comes from Matthew’s Gospel. It’s a good story for the Sunday before Christmas… a good story about how Jesus was born.

Often we jump ahead in the story… as we did last Sunday with the children’s Christmas play. We remember the journey to Bethlehem, the shepherds in the fields and the angels in the sky announcing the birth of the Christ child. Those are the parts of the story that never get left out of the Christmas pageants. But Joseph can easily become a minor character without a speaking part.

Today’s Gospel reminds us that Joseph was a pretty regular guy… a nice guy, a reasonable guy. When his fiancé got pregnant before the wedding, he dealt with it. He wasn’t going to turn it into a big to-do, but he was just going to dismiss her quietly. No one could have faulted him for that.

But that’s when God got involved in Joseph’s life and decision-making, and nudged him into doing even more than what was reasonable. With every reason to walk away, Joseph chose to stand by Mary, to take her as his wife, and to raise her child as his own. God spoke to him in a dream, and he knew that’s what he had to do. The child was going to be Emmanuel (God-with-us) and Joseph was going to help make that happen.

We don’t often pay much attention to Joseph. We give all the glory to Mary because she was the one who carried the child. She was the one who faced the most danger in having him. And she was the one who so clearly said, “Yes” to God’s unbelievable plan: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord,” she said, “Let it be with me according to your word.”

But they both said “yes,” didn’t they? Mary and Joseph said “yes” to God… and Jesus was born, and lived, and preached, and taught, and healed, and pointed to God, and gave his life so that all of us would be drawn into relationship with our loving God. They both said “yes,” and God came to be with us in Jesus the Christ. They both said “yes,” and the child was born to save us.

It just so happens that today we have two more examples of people saying “yes” to God. Bruce and Dian are going to say “yes” to God again today, as they make their public professions of faith and become members of this congregation of God’s church.

Now, some of you may be thinking that making a profession of faith is hardly comparable to what Mary and Joseph were committing themselves to. Becoming a Christian, or re-committing our lives to following Jesus will not involve giving birth to the Messiah. At most, it will include coming to worship, reading the bible, talking to God about stuff, sharing our gifts, and letting our faith direct our decision-making.

But I came across a quote from Meister Eckhart this week that suggests something more: “What good is it to me,” Eckhart asks, “for the Creator to give birth to the Son if I do not also give birth to him in my time and my culture?”

That’s an interesting concept to consider. Mary gave birth to Jesus many years ago, and Joseph stayed by her and helped the boy to come into the world. But we, as Christians, may also be called to give birth to Christ… to make Christ present in the world where we live and work and play.

You remember the apostle Paul’s description of the church as the Body of Christ. As a community of Christians, we can embody Jesus’ presence in the world today. And even as individual Christians, we can make Christ present as much as we follow his way and live like him today. We are invited to be the living face of Jesus in the world… Christ in our families, Christ in our work places, Christ in our friendships, Christ in our neighbourhoods.

Today, I hope that you will take some time to consider how God is calling you to give birth to the Son in your own particular way…. perhaps by participating in a particular ministry in or through the church… perhaps by being the voice of care or the hands of help to someone you know who is struggling… perhaps by sharing the real meaning of Christmas with a child or a young person, or with someone else who needs to hear about the goodness and love of God.

Of course, I said that there were two examples of people saying “yes” to God this morning. And the second one is Matthew Pelerine. So far, it might feel like Matt is simply saying “yes” to St. Andrew’s. After going through the application and interview process, the Session invited Matt to join us in ministry as our Youth and Children’s Ministry Co-ordinator. And Matt said “yes” when Spencer phoned to offer him the job.

But indeed, Matt’s “yes” is a “yes” to God and God’s call to work with us in sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with our children. Although Matt is well-equipped for this position, I know that there will be challenges, just as there are in any ministry position. But just as Mary and Joseph said “yes,” Matt is saying “yes,” and God will work in and through, and even despite him, to accomplish God’s good purposes.

One of the first examples in the Christian Church of someone who was called to a particular ministry was the apostle Paul. Just like Mary, Paul understood that he had been called and set apart by God for a special task. He referred to himself as “a servant of Jesus Christ,” ready and willing to do whatever God asked him to do, no matter how daunting the mission might be. And Paul’s mission was to be an apostle to the Gentiles. Though he himself was a Jewish Christian, he had come to understand that Jesus was for everyone, and he was bound and determined to share the good news with the world.

Paul said “yes” to a special calling from God… just as Mary and Joseph said “yes,” just as Matt is saying “yes.” But Paul also knew that each and every person who turns his or her life to the way of Jesus is called and invited to say “yes” to God and to embrace a special calling as well.

This morning we heard a few verses from the beginning of one of Paul’s letters to the Roman Christians, a church that was made up mostly of Gentile Christians. Paul wrote “to all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints” – who are called to be “set apart,” who are called to be “holy.” And he hoped that, despite the challenges of being Christian, each one of them would say “yes” to God, and participate in making Jesus present in their time and their culture.

Jesus was born many years ago, and God came to be WITH US. But I pray that Jesus will be born again today, and tomorrow, and next week, and next year. As we step forward in faith to say “yes” to God again, may Christ be born in us. Amen.

“Angels Whisper. We Sing Out Loud.”
Note: This short reflection followed the church school Christmas presentation “Christmas Eve in Angel School.”

There sure were a lot of angels in this year’s Christmas play! Angels have always been an important part of the Christmas story. They are the ultimate messengers from God…

explaining to the young Mary what’s going to happen to her, how she’s going to have a child who will be the Messiah…

convincing Joseph to marry her and to be a father to the child who will be called Jesus…

and appearing to the scared shepherds in the fields, telling them the good news about the baby who has been born, and directing them to go and worship him.

Without the angel messengers, the story would barely hang together. Mary would be confused by the surprise pregnancy. Joseph would likely leave her. And the shepherds would miss the excitement altogether. Without the angels’ announcements, much of God’s activity would have gone unnoticed.

But like one of the angels in the play pointed out, God doesn’t let the angels appear in the sky singing glorias anymore. Still, that doesn’t necessarily mean that God’s messengers aren’t busy delivering messages of good news and grace and hope to the people of the world.

When I think about the angel in the play leaning down to whisper in the ear of the little boy, I start to think about all the ways that God (or God’s angels) have whispered words of encouragement, or consolation, or direction in my ear.

You can do it, I have blessed you, and I will help you to be my servant.

All will be well. I am with you, and I love you.

Wait! Stop! Check your priorities. Follow me.

I hear the whispers when I’m paying attention… when I’m reading the scriptures, and when I’m listening carefully for God’s voice. Sometimes I hear the whispers through the voices of other people. Sometimes I hear them in the words of a hymn or through the reflections of another preacher. But without a doubt, God’s angels are just as busy today as they were 2000 years ago sending messages from God to me, and to you, and to anyone who will listen.

The author of Luke’s Gospel describes an elaborate dialogue between Mary and the angel Gabriel when the messenger comes to tell her about the child she is going to have. But, of course, there was no one else there to witness the conversation. Did she see a figure? Did she hear a voice? Did she sense a presence with her?

God’s message to Mary might have been like a whisper that only her heart could hear. But she heard it, and she responded with faith and trust, and the willingness to let God use her and her family to bless her people and all the people of the world.

And then Mary sang. She sang because she knew that God was blessing her. She sang because God was using her to bring light and love and hope into the world. She sang because God was going to help her oppressed people. She sang because she believed that good things were going to happen. She sang because God’s promises were going to be fulfilled.

Perhaps this Christmas, some of us would like to be a little more like the angels. We would like to give gifts of encouragement. We would like to whisper words of comfort and love to those who are sad, or lonely, or struggling.

But I would like to be a little more like Mary this Christmas. I want to open my ears so that I can hear the whispers of the angels. And I want to embrace whatever role God has ready for me in bringing the light of Christ into the world this year. I want to recognize, as Mary did, that although God’s call brings challenges, I am deeply, deeply blessed. And I want my life to be a blessing to the world… as I participate with God in lifting up the lowly and filling the hungry with good things.

Like the angels on that first Christmas night, and like Mary as she prepared to welcome her first child, I want to sing out loud this Christmas, and I want to invite each and every one of you to join in the song:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour…

Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to all people.

May our voices join with all God’s angels, and may every ear and every heart hear the good news… that God has come to us in Jesus the Christ. God has come bringing hope and peace and joy and love for all people. Amen.

Come and enjoy an evening of sacred music including choral selections, vocal solos and duets, and instrumental selections. In addition to the choir, guests musicians from Prairie Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra and the Saskatoon Symphony will be featured.

The highlight of the evening will be John Rutter’s “Brother Heinrich’s Christmas” a story narrated to music. Listen as choir, narrator and instrumental trio tell the story of Brother Heinrich, his donkey, and their magical meeting with the angels on Christmas Eve.

A free will offering will be received with proceeds for the St. Andrew’s Choir Robe Fund. Don’t miss this special evening of music at St. Andrew’s!

I didn’t want to preach about John the Baptist this morning. As you may have noticed, John the Baptist shows up every year during Advent. And he can be a little scary, as he scolds and chides and warns the people to repent and to flee from the wrath to come.

Instead of preaching about repentance, I wanted to focus on the beautiful, peaceful images from the earlier prophet, Isaiah. I didn’t want to get stuck with the image of the axe lying at the root of the trees. I wanted to talk about the new shoot growing out of the tree stump instead. But as I explored the text in Isaiah, it kept leading me right back to John the Baptist and the one coming after him. And so you will have a sermon today that is inspired by two prophets… Isaiah and John.

The prophet Isaiah wrote about a vision of peace. He predicted that peace would be achieved through the leadership of a righteous ruler in the line of King David. Poetically, Isaiah wrote: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”

And Isaiah described the perfect leader who would surpass even the beloved King David: “The spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord… [and] with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth…”

As Christians reading this text, our minds quickly leap to think of Jesus. He is the one coming in the line of Jesse and David. He is the one with God’s Spirit on him. He is the one coming with wisdom and understanding, coming both to judge and to bring good news to the poor, the outcast, and the troubled ones of the world.

The author of the letter to the Romans certainly comes to that conclusion. He points to Christ specifically as the one who fulfills the vision of Isaiah.  Jesus is the root, or the offshoot, of Jesse, David’s father. And Jesus’ resurrection fulfills the hope not only of those people of God already waiting for a righteous leader, but also of Gentiles (“outsider” nations) who also need hope.

But Isaiah first proclaimed his vision of peace many hundreds of years before the time of Jesus. And I think his words were intended to bring hope for the near future when a new ruler would help the people out of their current troubles and conflicts with their neighbours.

We aren’t sure whether the text dates from the time of the threat of the Assyrians (8^th century BCE) or from that of the Babylonians (6^th century BCE). But either way, the political situation of the people of Israel was in total disarray, and they desperately needed some leadership to help them through.

Into this setting, however, just when things appear hopeless and the future looks very bleak, the prophet promises that God will send a leader who will rule with justice towards all, and with mercy towards the most vulnerable in society.

The promises are astounding and perhaps unbelievable. The “order of nature” that we learn about in biology class, the violence of predators that we accept as natural, will be overturned. The rules of life will be changed, bent in the direction of gentleness and peace. And the new leader will create an environment so void of wickedness that even the animal kingdom is transformed. “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”

Though the Gospels never speak of the animals being affected by Jesus’ coming, it is still difficult for us to keep Jesus out of our minds as we read this passage. We can’t imagine any human leader accomplishing these things. And both Matthew and Luke tell us stories about the birth of Christ, emphasizing the fact that Jesus was born in poverty, simplicity, and in extreme vulnerability. The little child leading the wild animals to live in peace and harmony sounds a lot like the humble Christ coming into our world to bring reconciliation and peace.

Isaiah’s vision does seem a bit much though, doesn’t it? It’s absurd to think of these animals living peacefully together. After all, as much as I hate it when my cat manages to catch a bird or a mouse in the back yard, it’s natural for some animals to attack and eat others.

Walter Brueggemann, in his book, “Peace,” considers this aspect of Isaiah’s vision: “Unheard of and unimaginable! All these images of unity sound to me so abnormal that they are not worth reflecting on. But then I look again and notice something else. The poet means to say that in the new age, these are the normal things. And the effect of the poem is to expose the real abnormalities of life, which we have taken for granted. We have lived with things so abnormal so long that we have gotten used to them and we think they are normal.”

Some people have suggested that God didn’t create a world in which animals and humans would kill and eat each other. They notice in Genesis that God gives “every green plant for food” to “every beast of the earth,” and they wonder whether the normal we know so well is actually abnormal – something that has gone wrong in the order of things. Perhaps some vegetarians would agree with this.

And perhaps all of us would agree if we took a look at the meat industry today… at the poor treatment of so many animals, at the hormones used, at the processing, at all the abnormal things that have become normal parts of our diet. And it’s not just WHAT we eat or HOW MUCH we eat that has become abnormal. Just think of all the negative things that we just accept as normal parts of our lives and try not to worry too much about.

How about the fact that many of us work way too much? We spend way too much time working and earning money so that we can buy more and more things that we think we need to make us happy. But what we miss is time with our families and friends, time to volunteer in the community, time to be a part of a community, and time to do what brings meaning and purpose to our lives.

Is it possible that we’ve started to think of this schedule as normal when it’s not? Is it possible that God is calling us to give some things up, to set some priorities, and to be good stewards of our time?

And then there’s the relatively normal situation of having a friend or relative from whom we’ve become estranged. We just don’t talk to each other anymore. We just can’t get along. I couldn’t forgive her for what she said. He refused to give me another chance after I let him down again.

Is it possible that we’ve become too accustomed to living with brokenness in our lives and relationships? Is it possible that God is calling us to the hard work of making peace?

Of course, there’s the work of making peace in our own relationships, which is difficult enough. And then there’s the larger task of making peace in the world. So many of the trappings of war and violence have become so pervasive that they may seem normal to us. Gang violence on our streets and racism in our schools are simply the reality. Conflicts between cultures, religions, and races seem to be inevitable. And everywhere you go, leaders and nations are squabbling over land and power and wealth.

Is it possible that we have seen so much evidence of the human inability to get along that we no longer even hope or pray for peace? Is it possible that God is telling us not to give up? Is it possible that God is calling us to keep on working for peace with justice for the whole world?

An important word that is featured in today’s Gospel reading is “repentance.” John the Baptist is out in the wilderness proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Simply put, “repent” means “turn around.” It means “go in a new direction.” It’s like the GPS in your car is beeping at you incessantly because you’re going the wrong way!

Actually… there’s an interesting image for us to consider. I don’t have a lot of experience using a GPS. But last summer when Nick and I were in England and Scotland, we bought a cheap little GPS to help us as we were driving around the countryside and through the various towns and cities we visited.

Mostly, the GPS was a great help. It gave us distances and times to where we were going. It helped us when we approached complicated round-abouts, and usually it gave us the best routes to get where we needed to go.

But sometimes, if we made a wrong turn, or if we chose to go a different way, the GPS would get totally mixed up. It would keep trying to send us back to our starting point so we could begin again and get it right, and that could mean going in circles.

I discovered after a while, that when we got off course and the GPS got confused, the only way to fix it was to begin again. I don’t mean we drove back to our starting point. But I mean we cancelled the trip on the GPS and started it again from where we were at. Same destination. Different starting point. All the twists and turns of the trip so far… erased.

Could that be a good, contemporary image for repentance? It’s not that we have been such terrible awful people. Maybe we’ve made a few wrong turns. Maybe we’ve chosen the wrong route. Or perhaps some of the negative things like conflict and broken relationships and mixed up priorities have started to feel normal for us. We’re just living with all those problems as if they are inevitable, and we’ve going around in circles a little bit.

John the Baptist talked about the axe lying at the root of the trees, ready to chop them down to their stumps. And I suppose that is one way to begin again. Start fresh. Re-set the GPS. Let go of the past, and make some new decisions and set some new directions for the future.

But we must not be discouraged when we are called to begin again in a new direction, even if it feels like we’ve been cut down to a stump again. We must remember that hopeful vision of Isaiah… the one that we, as Christians, see fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Even when the tree is but a stump… even when it seems dead and gone and impossible to save… “A shoot shall come out from the [tree stump], and a branch shall grow out of [its] roots.”

And in Jesus Christ, life will triumph over death, goodness over evil, and light over darkness. The abnormal things of the world to which we have become accustomed will be revealed. And when they are removed, a new normal full of peace and harmony and justice and love will have the opportunity to grow and flourish. Thanks be to God.

• ADVENT APPEAL BEGAN – Sunday, Nov. 21st
  Choose a tag, buy a gift or make a donation to one of the helping agencies of Saskatoon, and decorate our Advent Tree.
• ADVENT WORSHIP SERVICE – Wednesday, Dec. 1st
  We will gather for a simple supper in the lower hall at 6:00 PM, followed by an Advent Worship Service upstairs at 6:45 PM. It will be a time of singing, prayer, and reflection as we begin this time of waiting to celebrate the birth of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.
• CHRISTMAS TEA & BAKE SALE – Saturday, Dec. 4th 2-4 PM
  Everyone is invited to attend the Women’s League’s annual Christmas Tea and Bake Sale. Donations of baking would be greatly appreciated, and may be dropped off any time after 10:00 AM on Dec. 4th.
• ADVENT APPEAL CONCLUDES – Sunday, Dec. 12th
  Bring in your Advent gifts by today so that the gifts can be delivered to those most in need this Christmas.
• CHURCH SCHOOL CHRISTMAS PRESENTATION – Sunday, Dec. 12th 11:00 AM
  Come to worship and share in the joy of Christmas with our children as they present “Christmas Eve at Angel School”.
• CHRISTMAS MEMORIAL SERVICE – Wednesday, Dec. 15th
  Though Christmas is often a time of joy and gladness, it can be a difficult time for many among us. Whether you have experienced the loss of a loved one recently, or you are struggling with a job loss, illness, or other challenges, please join us for a service of Light & Hope in the Midst of Darkness. Everyone is welcome, as we place our trust in the Coming Christ who is our Light. A simple supper will be shared in the lower hall at 6:00 PM, followed by worship upstairs at 6:45 PM, including an opportunity to light a candle in memory of a loved one.
• CHRISTMAS DINNER AT MANO’S RESTAURANT – Join the Thursday Group from a delicious turkey dinner at Mano’s Restaurant on 8th Street, Thursday December 16th at 1:30 PM.
• “BROTHER HEINRICH’S CHRISTMAS” – Sunday, Dec. 19th 7:30 PM
  Come and enjoy an evening of Christmas choral selections, vocal solos and duets, and instrumental selections. This will be a very special concert by the St. Andrew’s Choir and guest musicians from Prairie Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra and the Saskatoon Symphony. Admission by donation for the St. Andrew’s Choir Robe Fund.
• CAROLLING AT THE LIGHTHOUSE – Tuesday, Dec. 21st 7:00 PM
  Bring treats to share and voices ready to sing all our favourite Christmas carols!
• CHRISTMAS EVE WORSHIP – Friday, Dec. 24th 7:00 PM
  A Christmas service for the whole family, including carols and candlelight as we celebrate the birth of Jesus our Saviour.

Today is the first Sunday in the Season of Advent. As you know, Advent is the four weeks leading up to Christmas. Whether we know it as Advent, or whether we just think of it as the lead-up to Christmas, this is one of the busiest times of the year… not just in our churches, but in almost every aspect of our lives.

While most people are rushing around buying holiday presents, decorating, baking, sending cards, hosting and attending parties, watching holiday plays and presentations, and then doing some more shopping… Christians are called during Advent and Christmas do something different from the rest of the world.

We are invited to stop, and to wait. We are invited to be quiet and reflective. We are invited to pause and to think about the wonder of the celebration that we are about to share at Christmas… about the amazing thing that happened so many years ago… how God came into the world to be WITH us in Jesus Christ.

Well, the reality is that many Christians are running around like crazy in December too, just like everyone else. In many ways, our Christmas preparations don’t seem much different from our secular neighbours. But the beginning of Advent is a good time for us to pause and remember what this season is all about. The beginning of Advent is a good time for us to stop and to consider how we will celebrate this season, what we will choose to do (or not do) with our time, what we will spend our money on, what traditions we will begin or continue in our families. Now is the time to decide for ourselves what this special time of year means for us as people of faith.

I think Advent is about two really important things. First of all, Advent is a time when we think about what it was like before Jesus came into our world to be Emmanuel – God with us. God’s People had so many challenges and struggles at that time. They lived in a land that was occupied by the Romans, and they were terribly oppressed. They were waiting and hoping for a Messiah to come who would help them, who would free them, who would make things right in the world.

Although Jesus wasn’t exactly what most of them were expecting, Jesus was the answer to their prayers. The Messiah, the Anointed One, the very Son of God came into the world to bring help and hope and peace and joy… not only to the People of Israel, but to all the people of the world.

So Advent is about remembering how God’s People were waiting and hoping for a Messiah to come. But Advent is also about waiting and hoping today. Even though Jesus came two thousand years ago, there are still many things that are not yet right in the world. Jesus proclaimed and showed that the Kingdom of God was near… but even today, God’s Kingdom is still on its way. Everything isn’t right and good yet.

Though many of us here today live in relative comfort, security, and peace, Advent can be a time for us to open our eyes to see those around us (both near and far) whose lives are full of danger, or pain, or difficulty. We can pause to consider those people in our world today who are so desperately waiting and hoping for some kind of Saviour.

In our church community, a big part of Advent is our Advent Appeal. It is one way that we make this season about bringing the hope and help of Jesus into the lives of people in our community who are struggling. But perhaps Advent for you will include making gifts to others farther away who are desperately in need… maybe in Indonesia or in Haiti or in Afghanistan. Or perhaps Advent for you will include giving your time and attention to someone you know who is lonely or grieving or without much support.

When some of our members gather later in December at the Lighthouse to sing carols and share fellowship, that is what we will be doing. When the members of the Women’s League prepare and deliver care packages for people in our church who are shut in at home, that’s what they will be doing.

Advent is a time of waiting and hoping… not in the sense that we only sit and pray and hope for a better world… but in the sense that we take up the invitation to work with God to keep on building the world that God intends for us and for our neighbours.

The prophet Isaiah spoke about a day to come when all the people of the world will come and say, “Come let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of God; that God may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” Isaiah spoke about how God will judge between the nations and arbitrate for many peoples; and they will beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks. Isaiah’s hope was for a world filled with peace and justice and harmony.

Well, we’re not quite there yet, are we? We have a long way to go in the work of making peace. But perhaps Advent is a good time for us to take notice of Isaiah’s vision and to hang on to Isaiah’s hope. Perhaps we can begin by working on peace in our own lives and relationships. Maybe Advent is a time for you to work on making peace with a family member or with a friend from whom you have become estranged. Maybe Advent is a time for you to reach out in friendship towards someone in your workplace who is different from you, someone that you don’t understand, from whom you are separated. Perhaps Advent is a time for you to have a faith conversation with someone you know who doesn’t attend church, to share with them about what this season is about for you as a Christian, perhaps to invite them to worship with you.

Our Gospel text this morning encourages us to remember the early Christians. Near the end of the first century, the author of Matthew’s Gospel wrote words of encouragement and hope to a community of Christians who were waiting and hoping. Though they had already experienced God with them in Jesus Christ and had turned their lives to following him, they were wondering when the kingdom he spoke about would arrive. They expected him to be returning soon. They expected the world to be coming to an end soon. They wondered about what they should be doing in the meantime and how God would recognize them as Jesus’ followers in the end.

The author of the Gospel encourages his readers to consider what we know and what we don’t know. We don’t know… the time, the year, the month, the day, or the hour when Jesus will return. We don’t know when peace and justice will finally reign throughout the world. We don’t know when goodness, and kindness, and love will direct all people in relationship with each other. People who pore over the books of Daniel and Revelation, attempting to crack their code, are fooling themselves. We are called to be agnostics about the time of Jesus’ return. We simply do not know.

What we do know, however, is what we are supposed to be doing in the meantime. Because we don’t know the day or the hour, we are always to be “ready.” And in the context of the Gospel of Matthew, that means doing the deeds of mercy, and forgiveness, and peace that characterize Kingdom people.

The Gospel writer makes the interesting comparison of the end of time to the mythic story of Noah and the flood. Remember that classic story of the faith? It’s the one where God wipes out most of the world in a giant flood because the people of the earth are doing all kinds of evil things. There is one family, of course, Noah’s family, that is not wiped out with the rest. Because that family alone has been faithful to God, while the others have not.

But up until the day the rain starts to come down, most people wouldn’t have known that Noah’s family was any different. They wouldn’t have predicted that they alone would be saved. God knew, but most people would not have known.

The coming of the Son of Man will be something like that, the Gospel explains. The people of the world will be going about our daily lives… working at our jobs, doing what we do… And “then two will be in the field;  one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.”

I wonder if, on the surface, our lives look pretty similar to the lives of our secular neighbours. We live in houses and apartments, and drive in cars. We go to work. We look after our families. We plan for the future. We have friends, and hobbies, and at least in Saskatchewan, we root for the Riders…

On the surface, our lives may not look much different. But God knows who we are. And God knows whose we are… that we belong to God, that our hope and our trust is in God, that our hearts and our lives are dedicated to God’s purposes. And perhaps, if others looked carefully, they might see what God sees. They might see what makes us different too… And they’ll know we are Christians by our love.

The season of Advent has arrived. And we, as Christians, have the opportunity to mark this special time of the year in ways that are radically different from the usual holiday traditions of shopping and eating and partying. Though our daily lives and work may at first seem indistinguishable from our neighbours, the difference is that our values and priorities, our daily decisions, and even our Christmas celebrations will be guided and directed by God’s Spirit within us.

May God fill us with hope as we wait for the coming of our Lord. And may God’s Kingdom come. Amen.

There is a dream in this community.

It’s a dream that there will one day be, in the heart of the neighbourhood, a full-service grocery store with healthy, affordable food.

For those who live in other parts of Saskatoon, who hop into our cars to shop at our favourite grocery store chains, wherever they may be located, it may come as a surprise that a grocery store is what is most desperately needed in the core neighbourhoods of our city.

When I first moved to Saskatoon, and my husband and I were considering where to buy a home, I remember several people recommending that we choose the East side. Avoid the problems and challenges of the innercity by staying well away.

What may come as a surprise to many people across Saskatoon is that many of the families and individuals who live in the core neighbourhoods are not dreaming that they’ll get to move to the East side. Their dream is the transformation of their own neighbourhoods. And that is a dream that can become a reality.

I am reminded of another dream. From the prophet Isaiah, we read about God’s dream for the people of Isaiah’s community in Jerusalem. And God said, “I am about to create a new heaven and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating… no more shall the sound of weeping be heard… or the cry of distress. No more shall there be… an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.” (Isaiah 65:17-21)

God’s dream for the transformation of Jerusalem and of the world is not so different from our dream for the transformation of this community.

As Christians, we believe that God sent Jesus Christ into the world to begin that transformation. Jesus proclaimed that the Reign of God was near, and he brought good news to the poor, to the captives, to the blind, and to the oppressed.

And we believe that, as Christians, we are called to follow in the way of Jesus and to join in his work and ministry. We are Christ’s body in the world, empowered to be his hands and feet and voice bringing help and hope to our communities and our world.

Today, the Church Leaders of Saskatoon are together to support a vital project – the Good Food Junction grocery store at Station 20 West. We are committing ourselves and our churches to support the Good Food Junction with our prayers, with practical assistance, and with fundraising to equip the store.

We pray that, by God’s grace, the dream of this community will be fulfilled, and that one day, God’s dream for each and every community and for the whole world will become a reality.

Saskatoon Church Leaders support of the Good Food Junction at Station 20 West

This Christmas season many churches in Saskatoon seek to enhance the momentum of a vital project  – the community-owned Good Food Junction cooperative store located at Station 20 West. It is a community project that the churches seek to support as a concrete expression of God’s love.

Christians share the conviction that in Jesus Christ God has drawn near to us.  The Advent and Christmas seasons remind us that when God in Christ came to dwell among us he was born and lived in poverty and simplicity.  In Jesus’ ministry, we see his profound concern for those who were in need.  He gave dignity to those who were poor, suffering or oppressed.  He identified himself with those who were hungry or thirsty, saying that whatever we do for those most in need, we do for him (Matthew 25:31-40).    As his disciples we have a moral imperative to follow his example.

Church groups serve in many projects which support the people of the core neighbourhoods, such as the Food Bank, the Bridge, the Salvation Army and Friendship Inn, among others.

Saskatoon’s core neighbourhoods are the heart of the city.  For our city to be healthy, it needs a healthy heart.  Maintaining good health is a challenge for many in the area whose needs are high and whose resources are limited.  Access to healthy food is vital for wellness and self-reliance. Since 1997, no full-service grocery store has operated in our core neighbourhoods.  Many residents have no cars and thus have little access to healthy, affordable food.

The Good Food Junction, at 20^th St. and Ave. L, will provide in-store nutrition education and offer healthy food at reasonable prices, close to home. Equipping the store will cost approximately $650,000. Being able to accomplish this without going into debt is crucial to the store’s success.

Together we can bring this essential service to the people of our core neighbourhoods.  This is not specifically a church initiative: neither is it the project of a single political party, nor should we as Christian communities allow it to be so. The potential for good is immense.

As church leaders and as individuals we commit ourselves to making the Good Food Junction a priority for the weeks leading up to Christmas.  We will express support through our prayers, practical assistance, and where appropriate through fundraising to equip the store.  We do this in the name of Jesus Christ who is Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Signatories:

Most Rev. Bryan Bayda, C.Ss.R., Bishop, Ukrainian Catholic Eparchy of Saskatoon

Most Rev. Donald Bolen, Bishop, Roman Catholic Diocese of Saskatoon

Rev. Jeremiah Buhler, Area Church Minister, Mennonite Church Saskatchewan

Jay Cowsell, Saskatoon Monthly Meeting, Religious Society of Friends (Quakers)

Rev. Amanda Currie, Minister, Presbytery of Northern Saskatchewan, Presbyterian Church in Canada

Rev. Claire Ewert-Fisher, Executive Director, Mennonite Central Committee

Rev. Cynthia Halmarson, Bishop, Saskatchewan Synod, Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada

Rt. Rev. David Irving, Bishop, Anglican Diocese of Saskatoon

Rev. Ron McConnell, Chair, Riverbend Presbytery, United Church of Canada

Rev. Harry Strauss, Chair, Saskatoon Evangelical Ministers Fellowship

Watch the video “Good Food Junction Initiative” to hear from the Church Leaders about why the churches are supporting this project.

To find out more about Station 20 West and the Good Food Junction grocery store, watch the video “Station 20 West – Sustainable Good Food Health Centre.”

The church leaders’ letter of support began as follows:

This Christmas season many churches in Saskatoon seek to enhance the momentum of a vital project  – the community-owned Good Food Junction cooperative store located at Station 20 West. It is a community project that the churches seek to support as a concrete expression of God’s love.

Christians share the conviction that in Jesus Christ God has drawn near to us.  The Advent and Christmas seasons remind us that when God in Christ came to dwell among us he was born and lived in poverty and simplicity.  In Jesus’ ministry, we see his profound concern for those who were in need.  He gave dignity to those who were poor, suffering or oppressed.  He identified himself with those who were hungry or thirsty, saying that whatever we do for those most in need, we do for him (Matthew 25:31-40).    As his disciples we have a moral imperative to follow his example.

Read the full text of the letter, as well as the speech made by the Rev. Amanda Currie at the signing ceremony, to find out more about how the Christian Churches of Saskatoon are coming together to support a wonderful community initiative in the heart of the city.