Gathered Into One

2002-09-26T18:03:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find the manuscript of the most recent sermon as preached by myself at Christ Lutheran Church in Scarborough, Ontario. Christ Lutheran is a congregation of the Eastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church In Canada (ELCIC). The sermons are posted here for you benefit, yes; but especially for mine. I seek your feedback - both positive and negative critique - so that I might be a better preacher. Enjoy.

18th Sunday After Pentecost (A)
Come and See Sunday
Sunday, September 22, 2002
Text: Jonah 3:10 – 4:11, Matthew 20:1-16
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

The Book of Jonah is unusual among the prophetic books in the Old Testament. It is unique in these two respects. First, Jonah’s career as a prophet is unusual in that he is not sent to speak God’s word to the Children of Israel, or to the city of Jerusalem, but to a foreign city – the capital of Assyeria, the capital of the enemy. Given the diplomatic relations between Israel and Assyeria at the time, God’s sending Jonah to Nineveh would be much the same as a prophet from modern day Baghdad, the capital of Iraq, coming to Washington D.C. to pass judgement on the United States. This may help us understand why Jonah was so reluctant.

Second, normally when we read in the prophetic books, “The word of the Lord came to so and so saying…,” we are then given a hearing of what God told the prophet to say. Sometimes it is a word of judgement to the people as when Amos spoke:
You, who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth;
who push the afflicted out of the way…
I hate, I despise your festivals,
and take no delight in your solemn assemblies…
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps. [Amos 2:7a, 5:21, 23]

Other times it is a word of comfort.
Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her
that she has served her term
that her penalty is paid… [Isaiah 40:1-2a]

But whether a word of judgement, or a word of comfort, the prophet always tells us what that word is.

Jonah is sent to the city of Nineveh with a word of judgement, but we are never told what that word is, what Nineveh has done wrong, or why God has passed judgement upon it. In fact, the book of Jonah isn’t a prophetic book at all, in the way we normally understand that term. Rather, it is a story – the story of a reluctant prophet trying to flee from the will of a persistent god.

And God here is indeed persistent. One way or another, God insists that Jonah will speak this word to the people of Nineveh. When Jonah hops on a ship headed in the exact opposite direction, God does not give up. When Jonah is thrown into the sea, God does not give up. When Jonah is swallowed by a big fish, God does not give up. And even though Jonah’s is one lonely voice in a city of millions – the Bible tells us it would take three days to walk from one end to the other – even then God does not give up, and God’s word is heard in that place through Jonah. In fact, it is heard so clearly that the King declares that all shall observe a fast, and all shall turn from their evil ways and their violence. “Who knows,” says the king. “Maybe we can change God’s mind.”

Thanks to God’s persistence with Jonah, God’s mind is changed, Nineveh is spared, and God’s grace abounds once again.

Jonah, of course, isn’t too happy about it all. I’m sure he thinks that for all his trouble, he should at least get to witness a show of fire and brimstone raining down from the sky. But things don’t turn out that way at all. Rather, petty little Jonah goes out of the city to sulk when things don’t go his way. Instead of praising God for God’s exceeding graciousness and generosity, Jonah complains when the vine giving him shade in the desert withers away.

“You are concerned about a vine, for which you did not labour and which you did not grow,” says God to Jonah. “But look at what we did. Together, Jonah, you and I taught a wicked city right from wrong, and we saved them from their sinful ways. Open your eyes, Jonah, and see what I am about. Open your eyes and see.”

* * *

Although the gospels never report Jesus speaking about the book of Jonah, I’m sure that unusual prophetic book was a favourite of his. Jesus deals with pettiness and blindness in same way God deals with Jonah – with an invitation to come and see something greater, something more wonderful than we can ever imagine.

Just before telling the parable of the labourers in the in vineyard, Jesus is having a conversation with his disciples about the rewards they will receive for their faithfulness. Peter says to Jesus, “Look Jesus, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?”

The words Jesus says to Peter are, “you who have followed me will sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel,” which taken on their own, of course, sounds pretty awesome. But the idea being expressed by Jesus is more like, “if that’s all you want, Peter, if that’s what you think you deserve, then that’s all you’ll have. But let me tell you about something more awesome and amazing.”

And then Jesus tells his parable which begins, “For the Kingdom of Heaven is like…” Come and see, Peter. Come and see this kingdom where your throne will sit. Come and see how small and petty your throne will be, but how glorious God’s grace and generosity is.

* * *

Remember how persistent God was with Jonah? Jesus reflects this same persistence in his parable. In the morning the owner of the vineyard goes out and hires some workers, agreeing to pay them the usual days pay. Then at nine in the morning the owner goes out again and hires more workers, agreeing to pay them “whatever is right.” And then he does the same thing at noon, at three, and again at five o’clock.

Finally, at six o’clock the day is over and the pay is dispensed. Not surprisingly, those who worked a 12 hour day are a little put off when they discover they are being paid the same as those who only worked 1 hour. “I have done you no wrong,” says the owner, “I paid you what we agreed. Or are you envious of my generosity?”

* * *

I am struck by the way the owner goes out again and again to look for workers. I know what it is like to be unemployed, and the terrible stigma that goes along with it. But I also remember that nobody came knocking on my door offering me work. Everyday I had to head down to the unemployment office to see if there were any knew postings. Everyday I was filling out application forms while being told, “I’m sorry, we don’t have any openings today. But we’ll keep your file open for six months in case anything comes up.”

If you’ve ever been in that situation, then you know that finding full time employment can be a full time job. That earning a days pay for a days work has as much to do with luck and good fortune as it does with receiving what we actually deserve.

But the owner of this vineyard isn’t concerned with what his workers deserve. He only cares about what they need. The vineyard of Jesus’ parable doesn’t exist for the sake of the fruit, or for the sake of the owner. It exists to provide labour and daily wages.

The Kingdom of Heaven isn’t concerned with what we deserve. That is too small, too petty a thing. But come and see something amazing. The Kingdom of Heaven exists for us, providing our daily bread!

* * *

There’s an old saying: Sometimes we can’t see the forest for the trees. That is certainly true in the Church. The pastor isn’t preaching about this. The Sunday School isn’t teaching that. The ELW doesn’t meet my needs. I don’t like the hymns. These things are trees – shrubs really. They are not the forest of God’s grace. Your concerns about church programme, my concerns about Christian doctrine, these things are not the forest. I don’t mean to say that they’re not important. The forest, after all, is made up of trees. But it is made up of hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of them! My sticky little point of doctrine, and your frustration over church programming – even Peter’s throne in heaven! – they are nothing. God’s forest of grace is so unbelievably huge that it still stands even when – maybe especially when – we don’t get what we think we deserve.

* * *

Come and see this grace. Come and see Nineveh thriving among us, much to Jonah’s consternation. Come and see the vineyard paying “what is right” not what we deserve. Come and see the church of Christ, muddling through and knocking over trees as we go, but still striving for God’s kingdom of justice and peace.

Come and see. It’s not what you deserve. But it’s greater than you can ever imagine.

Amen
Comments

2002-09-09T23:48:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One"

Normally you will find here the manuscript of the last sermon preached by myself at Christ Lutheran Church in Scarborough, Ontario. However, for a host a reasons I have not been using a manuscript for preaching lately. I'm sure I will return to my usual practice soon. In the meantime, here is a sermon I preached a few weeks ago at the cemetery decoration service of Trinity Lutheran Church, Tavistock-Sebastopol, Ontario. Trinity is, in many ways, my 'spiritual' home congregation. I was baptised there (January 31, 1964). I have many fond memories of helping my grandparents do the custodial and cemetery yard maintenance there when I would stay over. And I did 12 months of internship there during the 1995/96 academic year. It was an honour to be invited back for this special service.

Cemetery Decoration Service
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Text: John 11:17-35
Trinity Evangelical. Lutheran Church, Tavistock-Sebastopol, ON

Thank you for inviting me to be back here among you. It’s good to see familiar faces and old friends. Please excuse me if I don’t remember your name right away. After all, it’s been six years since I completed my internship in the fall of 1996!

A lot has happened to all of us in that time. As you can see, Christopher and Nicholas have grown quite a bit, as I’m sure have all of your children and grandchildren. Since then, I’ve been ordained, called to St. James, New Dundee, and am in my second year at Christ Lutheran in Scarborough. Even my name has changed. When I was on internship here my last name was simply “Wilker.” I was re-married in September of last year and (much to my Uncle Ron’s chagrin, I’m sure) chose to hyphenate my name which is now “Wilker-Frey.” No doubt, your lives, and the lives of your loved ones have also gone through some pretty radical changes.

A few things haven’t changed. The Liberals are still in power in Ottawa, and the Conservatives still reign in Ontario. And so it seems that old adage is still true, the only things in life of which we can really be certain are death and taxes.

Well, I don’t know about taxes. I think there will always be a job ready for anyone who thinks we can get along without them; and there’s always room at the table for one more person who wants to complain about them. But death is something else again. We don’t like to talk about death. Death is morbid. Death is bad. Death means tears and sadness.

You wouldn’t believe the looks on the faces of the people in the big city when I told them I was coming here to preach at a ‘cemetery decoration’ service. They’ve never heard of such a thing. Where I live in Scarborough there is no local cemetery – not for churches and not for the community. Cemeteries are now part of the multi-national conglomerate of businesses. And they’re well hidden behind large walls, trees, and bushes. If I asked 10 people in Scarborough to direct me to a nearby cemetery, I’m sure 9 of them wouldn’t have a clue.

Why? Because ours is a ‘death denying’ society. Even though we know it’s going to happen to all of us someday – just as sure as death and taxes – we would rather pretend that it won’t.

And we’ll do almost anything, pay almost any price, to delay it as long as possible. Plastic surgeons have no shortage of work. Health and fitness clubs are big business and are springing up on every block in Toronto. Creams for our wrinkled skin, rinses for our graying hair, supplements for our diet – all these things promote the illusion that we don’t ever have to die if we don’t want to.

The search for that elusive fountain of youth has never stopped. It seems we’ll do anything to delay the inevitable, because nothing causes more fear, more anxiety, than death.

Martin Buber, the great Jewish philosopher, long ago recognized this denial of death in western culture. He told a story about one of God’s angels in heaven who was ever so distressed by all the death and suffering he witnessed on earth. The angel was confused, because he knew, as we have all be taught, that God is a God of life. Why then, the need for all this pain and death? One day, the angel approached the Lord with a suggestion. I’ll let Martin Buber tell the story in his own words from here:

Pulling himself together, [the angel] came before the Lord, but when he tried to talk, his throat dried up. Nevertheless, the Lord called him by name and gently touched his lips. Then the angel began to speak. He begged God to place the administration of the earth in his hands for a year’s time, that he might lead it to an era of well-being. The angelic bands trembled at this audacity. But at that same moment Heaven grew bright with the radiance of God’s smile. He looked at the suppliant with great love, as he announced his agreement. When the angel stood up again, he too was shining.

And so a year of joy and sweetness visited the earth. The shining angel poured the great profusion of his merciful heart over the most anguished of her children, on those who were benumbed and terrified by want. The groans of the sick and dying were no longer heard in the land…. The earth floated through a [fruitful] sky that left her with the burden of new vegetation. When summer was at its height, people moved singing through the full, yellow fields; never had such abundance existed in living memory. At harvest time, it seemed likely that the walls would burst or the roofs fly off, if they were going to find room to store their crops.

Proud and contented, the shining angel basked in his own glory. For by the time the first snow of winter covered the valleys, and dominion over the earth reverted into God’s hands, he had parceled out such an enormous bounty that the people of earth would surely be enjoying his gifts for many years to come.

But one cold day, late in the year, a multitude of voices rose heavenwards in a great cry of anguish. Frightened by the sound, the angel journeyed down to earth and, dressed as a pilgrim, entered the first house along the way. The people there, having threshed the grain and ground it into flour, had then started baking bread – but, alas, when they took the bread out of the oven it fell to pieces, and the pieces were unpalatable; they filled the mouth with a disgusting taste, like clay. And this was precisely what the angel found in the second house and in the third and everywhere he set foot. People were lying on the floor, tearing their hair and cursing the Lord of the World, who had deceived their miserable hearts with his false blessing.

The angel flew away and collapsed at God’s feet. Lord, he cried, help me to understand where my power and judgement were lacking.

The God raised his voice and spoke: Behold a truth which is known to me from the beginning of time, a truth too deep and dreadful for your delicate, generous hands, my sweet apprentice – it is this, that the earth must be nourished with decay and covered with shadows that its seeds may bring forth – and it is this, that souls must be made fertile with flood and sorrow, that through them the Great Work may be born.

We would be that angel, wouldn’t we? We would use our power, if it were ours to wield, putting an end to all pain, all suffering, and all death. Sure we would, because we would rather pretend that death is an aberration, and not an integral part of life.

And that’s not to suggest for a moment that death isn’t sad – that the passing of a loved one doesn’t leave a terrible empty space in our hearts. Of course it does. We can only assume that Jesus knew full well that he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead. And yet, when he was shown the place where his friend lay, what did do? He wept.

I’m sure many of you will recognize John 11:35. It is famous as the shortest verse in the bible. It may also be one of the most important and most profound verses in the bible. “Jesus wept.”

You’ve probably heard the story of the raising of Lazarus before. Even if you never have, it probably comes as no surprise to you that Jesus does in fact raise his friend Lazarus from the dead. But that is not where the greatest comfort is found in this story. After all, even though Lazarus was raised from the dead this time, at some point later on, Lazarus died and was not raised again. Jesus’ compassionate and divine love was not expressed in the miracle of the raising of Lazarus. Rather, it was expressed in that tiny little verse, “Jesus wept.” And if Jesus is moved to tears by the loss of one he loved, then why should it be any different for us?

* * *

In the recent movie “The Shipping News,” Kevin Spacey’s character has the unenviable task of breaking the news to his young daughter that her mother has died – but, unfortunately, he doesn’t posses the emotional maturity to say the words to her. So instead he tells her, “mommy is sleeping.” She’s not dead, she’s just sleeping for a long, long time. The problems the young girl has in the movie is the direct result of her father’s inability to be honest with her about death.

A funeral director told me the story about a young boy whose mother died. Everyone was so amazed at how well he was handling things – a good little trooper. From the visitation at the funeral home, to the funeral service at the church, to the commital service at the cemetery, the little boy seemed to be handling things so well. The commital service ended with him putting a rose on his mother’s casket and saying good-bye to her before the family took him by the hand and back home for the reception.

The next morning the boy woke up early and hopped on his bike to go visit his mother in the cemetery. When he got there, she was gone. The casket, which was sitting in front of the grave marker when he left it the day before, was no where to be seen. Nobody had told him that, after they had left the cemetery, some men would come along, lower the casket in the grave, and fill the grave up with dirt. Who knows what long-term psychological problems that child was left with because everyone – afraid of his tears – wanted to make his mother’s death so easy on him?

I hear on the news now that some doctors want to make the dying process easier on the family by giving the dying patient drugs in those last hours of life to shorten the process.

You know what? Death isn’t easy. Sitting with a dying loved one isn’t easy. Burying a loved one isn’t easy. Grieving a loved one isn’t easy. And our death denying culture makes it all that much more difficult. But it’s not supposed to be easy. Even Jesus wept.

* * *
The greatest gift my grandparents, Margaret and Elton Wilker, ever gave me was the gift of plunking me down on an old John Deer lawn tractor and having me drive up and down the cemetery cutting the grass between the rows of grave markers throughout Trinity Lutheran Cemetery. There I learned that death is not separate from life. Death is not an aberration. It’s as normal and as common and good as cutting the grass.

Cemetery Decoration Sunday is a reminder for us all of that very important lesson. It is a humble acknowledgment of what others left for us before they passed on. It is a healthy expression of grief for the hole their dying has left in our lives. It is a recognition that, of course, we too will one day die – and that’s okay, because that’s the way it is supposed to be.

Most of all, Cemetery Decoration is a thanksgiving for life.

The essence of the gospel is not that death does not happen, but that when it does happen it does not have the last word. To deny death, even to fear it, is to dishonour the gospel and the gift that God has given in Christ. Let us then rejoice that, as we pray in our funeral liturgy, through the grave and gate of death we pass with Christ to our joyful resurrection.

Amen

Comments

2002-09-05T23:45:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Sorry I've been away for a while. It's been a busy month. Much of my busy-ness has been in preparing and delivering sermons, but not in my usual 'from the manuscript' style. I've been doing a lot extemporaneous preaching lately, taking some of my own advice from this the last sermon I actually prepared on paper. I'll be back to my old style in a couple of weeks. Thanks for checking this one out. It is based on one of my favorite gospel stories - the only arguement Jesus is recorded to have ever lost. Enjoy.

13th Sunday After Pentecost
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Text: Matthew 15:21-28
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

I once saw a T-shirt that read, “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.”

For some people – usually the youth – living on the edge of life is an exciting place to be. Challenging accepted norms and traditions. Experimenting with the wilder side of life. Trying out new forms of expression in art and music. Pushing the envelope in every way. For these people, living close to life’s borders provides a rush of excitement.

For others, borders are dangerous places. The world holds millions of refugees – people who have been displaced from their homes, usually because of war or other forms of oppressive conflict. They huddle together near the border living impoverished lives in the hopes of one day returning home where life was familiar and comfortable.

Only a year ago, Canadians would have given almost no thought to crossing the border into the United States. It was almost as routine as moving from province to province. Carrying a passport was unnecessary, a drivers license was sufficient or sometimes a birth-certificate. Usually, no form of identification was asked for. Since September 11 that has changed. Suspicions have risen. It is no longer wise to think about crossing the border without a valid passport for identification.

Borders are set up to delineate differences among us. Borders separate people by nationality, by religion, by race, by gender, by age – anything that makes us different from one another.

Sometimes borders make a lot of sense. Children not driving until they are 16 years old is probably a good thing. Washrooms are still largely assigned by gender. Americans may not vote in Canadian elections. These are not unreasonable divisions.

Other borders are less comprehensible. Not long ago, a marriage between a Protestant and a Catholic was considered a ‘mixed marriage.’ In some parts of the world, it still is. Only thirty years ago, women were not allowed to be ordained in the Lutheran Church. In some Lutheran Churches women are still banned from presiding at the altar – and from serving on church council, and from being lectors, and from leading corporate prayer…

Whenever borders are approached, and especially when they are challenged, the emotional temperature rises and the risk of conflict increases. Inter-racial marriages still raise eyebrows in our society. Any mention of gay and lesbian marriages always makes traditional Christians uncomfortable.

Being pushed to the border is one way to find out who we really are, and what we really believe.

* * *

In today’s gospel, Jesus finds himself at many borders.

First of all, having been rejected by the religious leaders of Galilee, Jesus heads towards the northern limits of Israel, to Tyre and Sidon – the site of modern day Lebanon. Jesus has approached a geographic/political border.

Almost immediately Jesus is accosted by a Canaanite woman. You may recall that it was the Canaanites who occupied the promised land when the Israelites – led by Moses – came up out of Egypt. Obviously, the Canaanites weren’t going to give up their home just because a group of people claimed that God had given the land to them. So there was a fight, one which is well documented in the books of the Hebrew Bible (i.e. the Old Testament). The Israelites won. The Canaanites lost. Not surprisingly, like Palestinians and Israelis today, Canaanites and Israelites did not get along well. In this woman, Jesus has come into contact with an ethnic/religious border.

Finally, the Canaanite woman has crossed a gender border, putting Jesus in a difficult place indeed. The bible says she came to him ‘shouting' about her severely possessed daughter. The disciples want Jesus to get rid of her because she is “shouting after” them.

The word that is translated for us as ‘shouting' is the same word in Greek that is used when a woman is crying out in child birth. ‘Shrieking’ or ‘wailing’ might be better translations. Either way, she was quite annoying – she has crossed way over the border of proper decorum between males and females.

So here is Jesus at the edge of not one, but three borders – geography, ethnicity, and gender. Each border is being challenged. Each border is at risk. Along with tempers, the stakes are quite high.

What does Jesus do? At first, absolutely nothing. He seems to think that if he ignores her, then she and the discomfort she poses will go away. But it’s too late. The geographic border has been breached, and she is obviously not going to go away. So Jesus tries to keep the second border in tact – the ethnic/religious one – by claiming that he is sent only to the lost house of Israel. Notice, Jesus is not yet speaking to her, but to his disciples. After all, she is a woman.

And then we are told she comes and kneels before him, thus breaching the final line – the gender border. It is almost too much for Jesus. “It is not fair to take the children’s bread and feed it to the dogs!” Name calling is always the last refuge for the lost and confused.

But rather than admit defeat, rather than return to the proper side of the geographic/ethnic/and gender border, the woman surprises us – and Jesus – with her faith. “Yes Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.” So great is her faith and her love for her daughter that she is willing to accept even the disgraceful title of ‘dog’ from this man who is her last and best hope for healing.

Her words reach Jesus as if a light has gone on in his head. This woman – this foreigner, this pagan – this woman has taught Jesus an incredible lesson. God has created no borders. Every border line that has ever been drawn has been drawn by people (read: men). There is no place in God’s Kingdom for division between men and women, slave and free, Jew and Gentile, Christian and non-Christian, gay and straight, Canadian and Iraqi, rich and poor, etc. etc.

In the Kingdom of God, there is no border line – not one – and so Jesus could refuse her no longer. Her daughter was healed instantly.

* * *

Sometimes we need to have our assumptions challenged. We can get so comfortable walking along the middle of the road, we don’t even realize we’re lost. But when we leave our comfort zones, when we go to where life is a little more dangerous, a little more uncertain, when we approach our own borders, we gain a fresh new perspective on life. We can begin to see ourselves and the world a little differently.

For most Christians, borders are scary places to be. We like it in the middle where all is safe and comfortable. But it is only by going to the borders of our lives – by living on the edge, as that T-shirt suggested – that we participate with God in the holy act of tearing our borders down.

Amen
Comments

2002-08-11T19:01:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Preface:
There is a line in of the prayers of the Lutheran Book of Worship funeral liturgy that reads: "We give you thanks because by his death Jesus destroyed the power of death and by his resurrection has opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers." Very early on in my ministry I began omitting the "to all believers" clause based on a (theologially sound) premise that, through Christ, the kingdom of heaven has been opened to all. I have never been questioned about the omission, until now. A member of the congregation recently called me on it. Is the kingdom of heaven open to all, or only open to all believers? This sermon is the result of my wrestling with this question. As always, Comments are welcome.

Rev. Brian Wilker-Frey
Pentecost 12 (A)
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Text: Romans 10:5-15, Matthew 14:22-33 (Jesus and Peter Walking on Water)

In the midst of all the activity surrounding the hub-bub of Eastern Synod Assembly – the meeting times, the worship, scheduled activities, sight-seeing (not to mention the arrival of Barbara’s and my new nephew, Xavier who chose to enter the world while we both happened to be in Ottawa) – in the midst of all this is the joy of reconnecting with old friends, and meeting new ones.

Four conversations especially stand out for me from some of the talks I had with people at Synod Assembly. Five, actually, if you count a very brief encounter I had with one of the Bishop’s Assistants who I approached after the closing worship. I had offered a hand at cleaning things up after the service. When it looked as though most of the work was done I approached a very tired and weary looking Synod Staff Person and asked if there was anything else that she needed help with. She thought for a few seconds, then looked at me and said, “You know, I could really use a hug.”

Though hardly any words were spoken, in many ways this brief exchange between she and I sums up well those other four conversations that stand out in my mind. She was tired after a week jam-packed full of activity and (for her) responsibility. I can understand if she didn’t want to talk; if she didn’t want to be ‘nice’ to someone else or put on a smile. I’m sure she couldn’t bring herself to do the thinking for one more person. For that brief 10 seconds she needed to be taken care of. I’m glad she felt she could be honest enough with me to say what she really needed.

Those other four conversations I had while in Ottawa were much like that. They were moments when people let down their guard for a little while and revealed to me something that lay just beneath their kind, gracious and warm smiles.

These special moments have stayed with me since Ottawa. They were four very different conversations with four very different people. Two were Lutheran pastors. Two lay people. All were women, which may say something about women’s lives today, but which I suspect also speaks about men and our stereo-typical refusal to speak about our lives out loud. Two of the women are married; the other two are not. Three chose to establish their careers before having children. The other woman has a large and very lovely family; she chose to be a stay-at-home mom. The four women range in age from late 20s to early 40s.

Four very different women leading very different lives. I would describe each of them as active, strong, independent, thoughtful, and happy women with full lives. They are all people of whom we might say for different reasons, “Now there’s someone with a good life. I wish my life was like theirs.”

And yet, each of them told me that they felt something very significant was missing from their lives. They each revealed a sadness, a fear that somewhere, somehow, something important was missing. I’m sure each would agree with me if I were to summarize simply by saying that they were all going through, to varying degrees, a crisis in faith.

* * *

The circumstances of these women’s lives are all very unique, but the fact that they are all going through something we might call a ‘crisis in faith’ is not. So many of us are lonely. So many of us are dis-satisfied with our work, or the lives we have chosen for ourselves. So many of us look back at the sacrifices we made for our spouses, for our families, even for ourselves and wonder if it was really worth it. Things we thought would bring us stability seem to dissolve in our hands. Foundations upon which we have built our lives seem to crumble unexpectantly beneath us. Loved ones die. Relationships end. Jobs are terminated. Markets crumble.

The September 11 collapse of the World Trade Towers. The downfall of rock-solid corporations like Enron, Worldcom, and Northern Telecom. Some have pointed to these as causes for the crisis many people are facing, but I think they are as much a reflection of our crisis in faith as a cause.

The truth is, I think, most of us don’t even really know what faith is. Once, maybe, we thought we knew; but then something happened, or maybe we just grew up and saw the world through new eyes, and suddenly faith changed and we longed for those simpler, faith-filled days.

Once we thought we knew what it was to, as Paul says, “confess that Jesus is Lord.” At one time it was very easy. To confess that Jesus is Lord was to hear a story from the gospels about Jesus walking on water and declare, “See, Jesus can walk on water. Of course he is Lord!”

Once Jesus’ lordship was found in his miraculous virgin birth, or his amazing resurrection. It was easy to distinguish the believers from the non-believers. Believers believed in these things; non-believers did not. Believers had faith; non-believers did not.

* * *

When I was a young man – in my late teens or early twenties – things like the virgin birth and the stories of Jesus’ resurrection were my greatest stumbling blocks. I was born and raised in the age of Sputnik and the Apollo Lunar Missions. We drank Tang orange drink because scientists had fortified it with Vitamin C and it was the drink of astronauts. It had to be good. But ‘virgin birth,’ ‘resurrection,’ and ‘walking on water,’ were inconsistent with everything science taught and everything I learned at school, so they had to be wrong.

And yet, even though the Church was clear that, if I didn’t believe in these things, then I wasn’t a Christian and the state of my salvation was in very great peril, I also knew that I was, without a doubt, a person of faith. I was drawn to Church, to Christ, to God.

How could this be reconciled? How could I be a person of faith, and yet not believe the right things?

* * *

I’d like to tell you about another woman with whom I had many wonderful conversations. ‘Mary’ (not her real name) was a parishioner from New Dundee. Like the women I spoke of earlier, Mary leads a pretty idealic life. She lives on a lovely farm. She chose to give up her career as a teacher when she had children and she never felt the need to go back to it when they grew up. Mary is an artist – a poet actually. She is a thoughtful and kind person.

But her life has not always been easy. About 15 years ago Mary lost a child to a terrible disease, a disease which could have been avoided. But with her family, a former pastor, and counselling, by the time I arrived in New Dundee Mary had worked through most of this.

Mary likes to read books and take continuing ed. classes at the local community college. She sees life as a path to learning.

Mary was pretty active in church. She was on my call committee, and she served on Council and the worship committee while I was there. She attended church fairly regularly, and was very interested in Bible Study.

One day Mary confided in me that she could no longer recite the Apostles’ or Nicene Creed during the liturgy – she simply could not believe much of what she found there. Since we had spoken often about what it is we both did and did not believe, I think she was asking two questions of me: 1) How did I do it? and 2) What should she do? I also knew that Mary was teetering on the edge of discontinuing her involvement at the congregation because of these questions.

Fortunately, the words I found to answer her seemed enough to keep her active and involved. However, I have since learned that in the two years since I left New Dundee, Mary has all but ceased to participate in the worship life of the congregation.

The message is too strong in the Christian Church – believe the right things, say the right words, recite the correct creeds, or get out. Mary – and many others I could name – received the message loud and clear.

* * *

Our society is so caught up in the little word, “if.” ‘If’ you work hard at school or work, then you’ll be rewarded with wealth. ‘If’ you honour your parents, then they will love you. ‘If’ you don’t make waves, then you’ll live a contented, peaceful life. ‘If’ you believe the right things, then you will go to heaven, be healed, walk on water.

But Peter wasn’t able to take a few steps on the water because he believed the right things about Jesus. He did it because he had the faith to get out of the boat. His act of faith was not ‘believing,’ it was ‘walking.’ And he didn’t sink into the water because his doubt caused him to stop believing, but because he stopped walking.

As one commentator points out, “In faith the lame walk and lepers are cleansed. It is not that their healing is a reward for accepting the claims of Jesus. To walk is the lame man’s act of faith.” [W.A. Whitehouse, “Faith,” in A Theological Word Book of the Bible, MacMillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1950, page 76.]

* * *

Since the Synod Assembly I haven’t spoken with any of the four women. I am unable to give you an update on how they are doing in their faith crises. But of this I am sure, that after the Assembly they each walked back into their lives and into their struggles – sometimes walking, sometimes sinking. I know I certainly didn’t give them any answers, so I am sure that they, along with Mary, are living with and asking the same questions. They carry on. That is their act of faith.

Amen

In many churches a creedal statement (usually the Nicene or Apostles' Creed) is recited by the congregation following the Hymn of the Day. Today the congregation was invited instead to silently ponder these questions: How (in what ways) do you live in faith? How do you walk on water, and how and why do you sink?

Comments

2002-08-04T21:57:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Be sure to check below for the Albert Ganesh Sr. Funeral Sermon.

11th Sunday after Pentecost (A)
Sunday, August 04, 2002
Text: Matthew 14:13-21
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Today, I’d like to begin with a word study – actually, with two word studies.

First, the word ‘economy.’ This is a very common word in our modern society. Hardly an newscast passes without reference to it. We understand economy to be that thing which is responsible for the creation of wealth in a society. When the economy is strong, we expect to have a better chance of financial prosperity.

There are some basic rules that seem to drive the economy along. First, to be robust, economies must be diverse. Canada is very fortunate in this regard. Our natural resources allow us to have a very diverse economy. We have forestry, fishing, mining, farming, and tourism. Beyond that, strong economies like ours are supported by diverse industry, quality education, stable governments, stable financial markets, and an equitable justice system.

Mostly, our Canadian economy serves the people well. That is why, year after year, we are at, or near the top of the United Nation’s list of the best countries in the world in which to live.

But too often it works the other way around. Instead of the economy serving the people, the people are asked to serve the economy. That is when ‘economy’ becomes like a beast out of control. Interest rates are raised to fight inflation. Unemployment rises to fight high interest rates. Social programmes are cut to reduce government spending. The environment takes a back seat to the economy – land is strip-mined, forests are clear-cut, and fish stocks are depleted.

When the health of the economy takes precedence over the health of the people and the environment, we know something has gone terribly wrong.

So, what is this economy which we must serve and to which we must offer sacrifice?

The word economy comes from two Greek words: oikos, and nomos. Oikos – the ‘eco’ in economy – means house. Nomos means law. Therefore, eco-nomy, rightly means law of the house or rules of the house. The economy, then, is a set of rules which serve the house or community. It is the way in which a house chooses to act.

Surprisingly, then, the economy – in the classical sense of the word – is not some monolithic creature with a mind of its own controlling markets and lives. Rather, as it turns out, the economy is the choices we make as a community.

Which brings us to our second word study: ecology. Usually the word ‘ecology’ is used in much the same way as the word ‘environment.’ Certainly they are close, both alluding to the natural space that surrounds us. And so we hear the words ‘ecology’ and ‘environment’ and we picture nature lovers running through the forest chaining themselves to trees so that the big bad paper mills won’t cut the trees down.

But ‘ecology’ is slightly different than ‘environment;’ it goes a little deeper. 'Ecology' come from the Greek oikos, which we know means house, and logos, which means word - not a word, but the word, or the essence of the word. Let me try to explain:

We typically think of words that end in ‘-ology’ to mean the study of something. Biology is the study of living organisms. Psychology is the study of the psyche, or the mind. But these things are more than scientific curiosity about how things work. At its core, biology seeks to understand the essence of life – what is life? Psychology seeks to understand the essence of the mind – not only how, but why we think, and what influences our thoughts and behaviours.

Ecology (eco-ology), then, is what lies at the very essence of the house. It is what defines us as a community. What is the essence of our family, of our congregation, of our nation? What makes us tick? What is our purpose, our reason for living? This is our ecology. And once we have begun to get a handle on that, we then choose a set of rules – or, an economy – to help us function so that we might rightly live up to essence of who we are.

* * *

Ok, so how does this work in the real world?

Let’s say that long, long ago humanity assumed that the essence of life was to progress – to create wealth, and to make a better life for our children – which, I think, is a pretty accurate reflection of our actual assumptions.

So then, cave dwellers became villagers living in simple houses, because houses are better than caves. Hunters and gatherers became farmers. Grunters learned to communicate with spoken, and eventually the written word. Bones were traded in for clubs, which became spears, then swords, then bows and arrows, and eventually guns and fire-arms. Progress was always happening, but it was measured in millennia, always slow and inefficient.

Eventually humankind learned to develop an economy which would serve them in their striving to fulfill their ecology, or their purpose. It wasn’t long before they learned that the best economy for creating wealth was one in which greed, efficiency, competition, and individualism were the key words. Thus, developed the economy of supply and demand. The more scarce a product or resource, the greater its value.

Once this economy was established, the creation of wealth moved ahead very swiftly – now measured by centuries.

Finally, with the implementation of democracy, and the advent of the industrial and computer revolutions, the creation of wealth has almost reached an apex. Never in the history of humanity has so much wealth been created as in the last 50 years. And now developments are measured in weeks, days, and sometimes by the minute.

In fact, we have become so successful at creating wealth, that our ecology – far from being served by the economy – ecology has become the servant of economy; we’ve turned it all upside down, with pollution, war, and poverty of the masses – not to mention the proliferation of mind-numbing video games – as the result.

We’ve learned to create wealth efficiently and proficiently – but, one has to ask, whatever happened to the part about leaving a better world for our children?

* * *

Jesus suggested a completely different ecology for humanity which can be summarized, as Jesus summarized it, in the Jewish law: love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength; and love your neighbour as yourself. As you can see, this is quite different than the ecology humanity long ago chose for itself, and so, not surprisingly, the key words that epitomize the resulting economy are quite different.

Whereas efficiency, competition, and individualism describe our economy, Jesus’ economy is described by words like compassion, grace, and mercy. That’s why Jesus was able to accomplish amazing things we can only describe as miracles.

This economy is illustrated quiet nicely for us into today’s gospel. Today we find Jesus faced with a choice – he can go off alone to mourn the death of John the Baptist (he had just received word that John had been killed), or he can serve the needs of the crowds who are following him.

We wouldn’t blame Jesus a bit if he went off on his own – his cousin has been killed; the need for time alone seems only natural. His disciples’ suggestion that they send the crowds away for the night makes a lot of sense to us. In our economy what could possibly be gained by trying to feed a hungry crowd with only five loaves of bread and two fishes? In our economy such a situation could even end up in a riot – 5000 hungry men, plus all the women and children, being offered so little food. How could this possibly end well?

But Jesus’ economy is not our own. Compassion, grace, and mercy can accomplish things we can’t even imagine. And just to illustrate how different our chosen economy is from that which God hopes for us, notice that, not only are all the people filled with the 5 loaves and 2 fish – not just satisfied, but filled – but there are 12 baskets of bread left over afterwards! Where our economy thrives on scarcity, God’s economy thrives on abundance!

* * *

Another word for ecology is kingdom; and another word for economy is choice. The choices we make in life either serve God’s Kingdom or our own. Humanity’s impulse to leave the world a better place for our children is a good one – to this end, let us choose compassion over competition, and God’s economy over our own.

Amen

2002-08-04T21:16:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

What follows is a sermon preached at the funeral of a kind and gentle man.

Funeral Sermon
Albert Ganesh Sr.
Tuesday, July 23, 2002
Text: John 14:1-7, Romans 8:34-35, 37-39
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

When I first came to Christ Lutheran Church two years ago, I encountered a people who liked to talk. When, at the beginning of worship, they are asked if there are individuals for whom they would like prayers offered, they inevitably speak up. When, at the end of service, they are asked to share news of their family, they share. When there is coffee hour, this building is buzzing with conversation. The people of Christ Lutheran are a people who like to talk, and they do so enthusiastically.

But for many years there has been a voice among us that, when raised, has silenced every other voice in the community. When Albert spoke, every other voice went silent. Albert’s was a voice that was listened to, because his was a voice of beauty, a voice of reason and of wisdom. And now that voice has been silenced, and we will miss its resonance in this place.

* * *

Rising from the destitution of poverty as a young orphan to a position of respect as an educator and deacon of the church in his homeland of Guyana, and finally to be surrounded by family and friends in his last days, Albert was the epitome of the ‘self-made man.’ And yet, for all the challenges he overcame in his youth, and for all he achieved in his profession and the pride he has felt for his family, Albert would be the first to reject ‘self-made’ as an adjective to describe his life. Though proud of his achievements, he would – no doubt – shift the glory to others.

First, I suspect, he would recognize and give much thanks for that individual who first saw in him the potential to become a teacher, who encouraged him to further his education when, as an orphan, all he probably had a right to expect was a hard life of manual labour.

And then there were his own teachers who encouraged him and provided role-models for him to follow. There were his supervisors and principals who helped him along the way. There were his students who inspired him.

Of course, Albert would point to his wife, Monalene, supporting and helping him through it all.

And then there are the children, all seven of you! You filled him with pride and gave purpose to all he did.

But above and beyond all the individuals who helped him to become the man he was, Albert would give thanks to God for it all; for directing and overseeing his whole life, from birth to death.

* * *

Albert told me a story a few months ago of his first days spent as a student in Jamaica. It was a very lonely time for him. He knew no one and was uncertain about the path his life was taking. He said that, when Christmas time came, all the students went home leaving the campus a very quiet and lonely place; but he had no where to go, so there he stayed. During these Christmas holidays, Albert was sitting outside in a park trying to figure it all out when he was approached by a priest who engaged him in conversation and offered friendship. Then, Albert said, the priest opened his bible and read these words from the First Letter of Peter: “So put away all malice and all guile and insincerity and envy and all slander. Like newborn babes, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up to salvation; for you have tasted the kindness of the Lord.”

With these words Albert survived a difficult time in his life. Albert would surely point to that priest and those words of scripture for shaping the teacher, the husband and father, and the man he would become.

So Albert would reject those titles we might want to heap on him at this time: self-made man, wise one, sage – anything that would suggest he achieved anything on his own. But at the same time he would immediately accept with pride others labels we might give him: husband, father, educator, friend – anything that implies relationship with one or more people and with God.

* * *

“Let not your hearts be trouble,” said Jesus. “Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?… I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one come to the Father but by me.”

There has always been a great deal of speculation about those ‘many rooms’ Jesus spoke about. Was he talking about the variety of the world’s faiths which are practiced in many different ways, but which all point to a loving and compassionate God? Was he giving us a glimpse of heaven and all the space available there for his followers? Some have gone to great length to describe these rooms, how they will be decorated, and how each one might suit each individual believer who finds themselves there.

Reflecting on these words in context with Albert’s life leads me to understand these rooms in another way. Rather than being a place where we might find ourselves after death, perhaps these rooms are a reflection of all the people who helped us to become the children of God we were created to be. For Albert, one room might hold all his students. In another, the priest who was there for him in Jamaica. In another, his parents who died too soon, but who helped shape his life none-the-less. No doubt all of us gathered here today are the rooms in which Albert now resides.

In this way, then, living in Christ is not an individualistic spirituality that is about believing the right doctrines, but is rather about living in relationship with one another and with God. Jesus as the way, the truth and the life becomes about seeing Christ in everyone we meet and living lives of kindness and gratitude in every situation.

If I am close to the mark here, then it is no wonder to me that, after living 86 years of life in this way, when Albert spoke the room would come to a hush and all would listen.

* * *

The opposite of relationship is separation. When we live in true relationship with one another and with the world, then the words that Paul wrote must be true: “…neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ our Lord.”

I believe Albert understood this by the life he lived and the faith he professed. And this is just one of the lessons his life might teach us, but one that can bring us a long way to living with the same integrity and wisdom Albert showed in this world – for Albert surely has tasted the kindness of the Lord.

Amen

Albert Barrington Ganesh: November 3, 1916 to July 17, 2002

2002-07-03T08:18:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church (ELCIC), Scarborough, Ontario. Please pass along your thoughts and comments.

Pentecost 6 (A)
Sunday, June 30, 2002
Text: Genesis 22:1-14
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

I’d like to take a minute or so to express a little pride in my boys. With school finally out for the year they brought their report cards home this week. This, of course, was Nicholas’ first. These days, instead of reporting kindergarten grades in the usual A, B, C, or D plus or minus method, they rank abilities to perform skills and comprehend concepts on a scale between 1 and 4. My Nicholas consistently scored somewhere between 3+ and 4; a score of 4 suggesting he has excelled beyond expectations for his age.

Christopher’s report was no less glowing. In an age where a B is only handed out gingerly, Christopher received a large share of A’s!

I photocopied both of their reports telling the boys I was going to put my name at the top of the page and tell everyone they were my reports as a child. They were quite incensed that I would suggest such a thing. You see, I’ve shown them my report cards from my youth, and they know that I didn’t perform nearly as well as either of them.

Now, I know that school grades aren’t everything, and that grades alone are not the sole indicator of how well a child is really learning. But what parent wouldn’t swell with pride upon learning that their child is excelling at something, be it school or sports or music or a hobby? I guess it reinforces in us the idea that maybe we’re doing something right – even in this fast moving and complex time. Maybe we really do have a positive influence on our children’s lives.

On the other hand, sometimes children come up with the most remarkable ideas and observations completely on their own, and as a parent you have to ask yourself, “Where in the world did that come from?” Christopher especially – and only because he’s at an age where he’s able to articulate his thoughts more clearly – Christopher will come up with, what I think, are some amazing things.

When I first told Christopher that Barb and I were getting married, he thought carefully for a moment and then said, “Dad, are you sure? How well do you really know her?”

Another time just a few weeks ago we were sitting down for supper and Nicholas asked where Barb was. I said she was working (Barb is a Flight Attendant with Air Transat), and that she was in Germany and would be going to Poland the next day. Then Christopher observed, “when most people go on trips like that it’s usually a really big deal; but for Barb it’s just another day at work.”

And then, just yesterday we were hiking out near Clairmont. We walked up a very large hill, on the top of which someone has kindly placed a bench for resting and looking out over the countryside. This bench has been dubbed ‘Philosopher’s Bench’, and the hill “Philosopher’s Hill” because the beautiful scenery gives one pause to think about life. Since we were sitting on Philosopher’s Bench, Barb and I decided it would be appropriate if we all offered our opinions about the meaning of life – why are we here?

Nicholas decided we are here to eat. Barb suggested life is to be lived to the fullest. I submitted that the purpose of every living thing is to propagate itself. And then it was Christopher’s turn. He didn’t really want to participate, of course. He just wanted to run back down the hill. But we wouldn't leave until everyone contributed a thought about the meaning of life. Finally my 10 year old son offered this: the meaning of life is to think about the meaning of life.

Wow! As they used to say back in the 70s, “that just blows my mind!”

* * *

Parents have a way of referring to children as “my kids.” “My son.” “Our daughter.” As if they are some kind of accumulated wealth.

“I will raise my child anyway I see fit.”

The truth is, they’re really not ours. With the ability to think for themselves, to read books, to make choices, my kids stopped being mine a long time ago – maybe they never really were.

* * *

In the Old Testament lesson we read earlier, even God refers to Isaac as a possession of Abraham. “Take your son, your only son whom you love to Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering.”

Many people today question if things like sheep, cattle, or even land really can be owned. But it seems clear that Abraham, at least, understood that Isaac was his to do with as he pleased – even if that meant sacrificing him on an altar to his God.

So off he goes with his son and a few servants to the land of Moriah to kill Isaac because, apparently, God has told him to do this.

This story is told in a matter-of-fact kind of way. We don’t really know what Abraham thought of this gruesome task. There are no tears, no pleas for his son’s life. And while that may seem kind of strange to us, history is full of examples of people committing the most heinous of acts because they believe they are doing God’s will.

But then, Isaac says something to his father, which like the scenery from the bench on Philosopher’s Hill, must have given Abraham pause to think. Isaac says to him as they approach the hill – the son carrying the wood, the father carrying the torch – Isaac says to Abraham, “Here is the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”

Even the writer of this story, who writes to show Abraham’s immense faith, isn’t able to hide Abraham’s shock and doubt at his son’s observation. Instead of giving Isaac the honest answer he deserves, Abraham lies. “God will provide the lamb,” and then, perhaps out of guilt, quickly adds “my son.” Abraham had no basis to make such a claim. Abraham’s goal was the sacrifice of Isaac. God never promised to intervene. Abraham lied to his son.

Whatever their relationship was before this event, when Isaac observed that they had everything for the sacrifice except the lamb, he ceased to be Abraham’s possession and he became his own person. Because, at that moment, Isaac understood. Of course, he was the lamb. He would be sacrificed. Isaac knew. And in knowing, Isaac now had a choice. He could run. And if Abraham caught him, he could struggle. He could fight for his life. He could run away from his crazy old man and his strange ideas about God.

Or, he could continue up the hill with his with his father, allow himself to be bound, and have faith – as his father did – that God would provide the lamb. But the choice was now Isaac’s, and it would be made by him alone. Isaac could not now be possessed by anyone.

* * *

The Bible often uses relationships between parents and children to shine light on sin – sin essentially referring to the illusion that we own and have control over any one or any thing. But it’s not just in relationship to our children that this illusion abounds. We like to think we own homes, land, businesses. We like to think we can do as we please with the sky, the oceans, and nature. We believe money gives us power and independence. And in this world we’ve created for ourselves, all of this may well be true.

But Jesus came preaching something else. Jesus preached another Kingdom were wealth and control is an illusion. In this Kingdom, life is not found in the accumulation of anything, only in giving. “All who find their life shall lose it, but whoever loses their life for my sake shall find it.”

Isaac came to understand this when he revealed Abraham’s lie for what it was – sin, and an illusion. Isaac understood it when he realized the choice was his – he was not his father’s possession, but a child in God’s hands. Isaac chose himself to give up his life, and in doing so God gave it back to him.

* * *

“The meaning of life is to think about the meaning of life.” I never gave that to Christopher. I hope his insights continue reveal the illusions I have taught him.

Amen

Comments

2002-06-24T12:13:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Pentecost 5 (A)
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Text: Matthew 10:24-39
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Why did you come here today? Why do you go to church on any Sunday? It is so easy to become obsessed with the empty chairs on Sunday morning. We wonder, “where are all the people, and why are they not coming to church?” But you are here. And many of you are here almost every week – some of you, absolutely every week. Why? What is it that gets you to drag yourself out of bed on Sunday morning to come to church?

Some of you come for this moment, the sermon. For many, the sermon is the centre and focus of worship. Everything else – the hymns, the prayers, the fancy robes – everything else is preparation for, or response to the sermon. Some are hoping to have their beliefs and opinions confirmed from the pulpit, and therefore supposedly confirmed by God. Some are looking to be challenged – to hear new thoughts and ideas about what it means to be Christian today. For others, the sermon is a faith lecture – a time to learn about the bible or the church. But for all of us, the sermon is a rare stretch of time in our society when we are allowed – indeed, encouraged – to sit quietly and reflect on ‘holy’ things. For many, the sermon is the reason for coming to church on Sunday.

Some of you come to sing – again, a very rare thing in our culture. We are a people who listen to music, but rarely are we invited to join in. We are a performance culture. With modern forms of amplification, the one with the biggest microphone wins!

Before radio or TV, before record players or CDs, before CD ROMs and DVDs, people sang together. The pianos that adorn our homes today, closed up and gathering dust, are often heirlooms from our grandparents or great-grandparents. Today we use them to teach our children how to perform, but there was a time when the family piano was a place to gather around for singing. It wasn’t about performance, it was about participating. Church is one of that last places where we are invited to participate in the singing, and that’s another reason why many people go to church on Sunday.

Other’s come for their weekly spiritual fill-up. People tell me that they need church to get them through the week. All of it – the prayers, the hymns, Holy Communion when it is offered – all of it strengthens them for the week to come.

Some come for Confession. Some come for community. Some come to be nourished by Word and Sacrament. Some come to have a need addressed in prayer. Some come because it just something they’ve always done.

Whatever our individual reasons for being here, perhaps it is not too much of an over-generalization to suggest that we all come to find something. That something might be one or more of many things: God, salvation, peace, comfort, or wisdom. But we are all trying to find something. Deep down inside we know something is missing, and so we come here to church in the hopes of finding it – whatever ‘it’ may be.

But how many of us come to lose our lives? We all come to find something to enhance our lives. How many of us expect that, by coming to church, we will lose them?

We come to learn how to get along with each other. How many of us expect, by coming to church, to be set against our parents or children, our brothers or sisters.

We come to church to greet friends and talk about our lives – to find community. How many of us expect to be sitting beside an enemy?

* * *

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace,” said Jesus. “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Jesus’ words are a reminder about the importance of what we say and do as Christians. What happens here is not about escaping the world and its problems. And what we seek may pale in comparison to what we actually find.

* * *

Three times Jesus says to his disciples, as he sends them out into the world, “Do not fear.”

Do not fear those who think Jesus is a farce. Do not fear those who can kill the body, but not the soul. God knows when every sparrow falls to the ground; God counts every hair on your head. Do not fear, for you are of more value than the sparrows.

Obviously Jesus believes that the disciples have sufficient reason to be afraid. He says he is sending them out as sheep among the wolves. But do we have the same reason to fear? Is the world so hostile to our message that we need to be afraid to proclaim it?

I don’t think so. At worst, our world is ambivalent about Jesus. Society may find the church irrelevant but, at least here in Scarborough, the world is not threatening us. We lock the church doors when no one is here, not because the world wants to see the Church destroyed or is threatened by us, but because we want to keep our valuables safe, just as you would at home.

Nobody is threatening us. Nobody wants to see us locked away or destroyed. The world may not welcome us with open arms but, even wearing a clerical-collar out in public, I’ve never felt like a sheep among the wolves.

So what’s the difference between the world Jesus sends his disciples into and our's. Has the world grown more tolerant? Is it a kinder, gentler place?

I don’t think so. The world is as violent and corrupt as it ever was. Two-thousand years have only provided humanity with the time to grow more creative in our sin – our violence, our greed – not less so.

The world has not changed. We have.

* * *

When Jesus sends the disciples out into the world, he gives them something to proclaim. He gives them an alternative way of living, a way based on mercy, love, and compassion – not power, coercion, and might. He arms his disciples with parables about grace – the grace of a father who welcomed his wayward son home, no questions asked; the grace of a landowner who had the gall to pay employees who worked only an hour the same amount of money as those who spent all day in the fields. He sends his disciples out with the Gospel – the good news that the poor are welcome to sit among the rich, sinners among the righteous, and men among women as if everyone is equal.

No longer can God’s favor be catered by praying the right prayers or offering the right sacrifices. No longer is God’s love mediated by priests. No longer are the rich blessed – but the poor; not those who laugh - but those who mourn. No longer are illness and disease blamed on sin.

This message is a threat. It is a threat to the political and religious power-brokers. It is a threat to the rich. It is a threat to the self-righteous. This is what Jesus sends his disciples out to proclaim. Jesus sends them out to shake the foundations of the system, to challenge, and to offend.

Jesus sends the disciples “to comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.” And for this, they have every reason to be afraid.

* * *

Who is afflicted by our presence here today? Who is challenged? Who is offended.

Absolutely no one.

No one is afflicted, challenged, or offended by our gathering there today because, unlike the disciples whom Jesus sent out to engage people in their lives, we gather together hoping to find something for ours.

This bears repeating. Unlike the disciples whom Jesus sent out to engage people in their lives – to challenge them, to liberate them from systems of sin, to offend their self-righteousness, and to heal everything in their lives which separated them from God – unlike the disciples who were sent out to others, we gather together hoping to find something for ourselves – wisdom, spirituality, peace, comfort, salvation, and so on.

* * *

Ten years ago our congregation surveyed the neighbourhood. The results of that survey lay in the bottom drawer of the office filing cabinet. It turns out that the community is thrilled that we are here, as long as we keep within the four walls of this building. But there are many ideas there which would offend this community: a youth hostel or drop in centre – unacceptable; a homeless shelter – not in my backyard; a half-way house for young offenders – out of the question; a basket-ball court or skateboard ramps for the kids – don’t even try it.

In the past, we have come up with some wonderful ideas to take the gospel to the people, afflicting their righteousness, challenging their stereo-types, and offending their sensibilities. But there they remain, safely hidden in the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet.

* * *

Being a Christian ought to be risky. But as long as we are looking for something only for ourselves – as long as all we want out of this institution is a spiritual-fill up – we can never even begin to even comprehend such hard sayings of Jesus as, “take up our cross and follow,” or “those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

May God grant us the courage to look beyond ourselves unafraid of the consequences.

Amen

Comments

2002-06-16T23:56:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Pentecost 4 (A)
RCC / CLC Joint Worship Service (and Father’s Day)
Sunday, June 16, 2002
Text: Matthew 9:35 – 10:8
St. Ignatius of Loyola Catholic School, Scarborough, ON

One day a long, long time ago when I was in grade 2, my friend David asked me if I would like to go to his house to play after school. That sounded good to me, so at the sound of the 4:00 bell we rushed to the cloakroom, grabbed our stuff, and off we went.

My home town of Fergus was (and is) small, and the way to David’s house was pretty straight forward: down the big hill in front of the school, across the bridge over the Grand River, turn left and proceed on Union Street for a few blocks, and then turn right on Elgin Street where David’s house was. It was about a ½ hour walk from the school. We’d be at his place by 4:30. We’d play for an hour. I’d call and tell Mom and Dad that I’d be home by 6:00, in time for supper.

It sounded like a good plan. And if I knew myself to be a vulnerable seven year old child who was oblivious to the dangers of the world, that’s exactly what probably would have happened.

But, I didn’t think I was a vulnerable seven year old child. I thought I was an explorer, strong and brave. I thought the world was my playground. I thought I was physically and mentally prepared for anything the world could throw at me. I thought I was immortal!

And so, instead of going to David’s house by crossing the bridge and turning left on Union Street, we decided to cross the bridge, climb over the fence meant to keep us out, and walk along the cedar-lined shore of the Grand River. And with that slight change in the itinerary, my simple walk with David to his house after school turned magically into a wonderful adventure filled with river pirates and enemy soldiers, Native Indians and wild animals with caves to explore and new lands to discover!

How could I be expected to remember to call home or to even think of the time while I was having such wonderful adventures?

Meanwhile, back home Mom and Dad were getting worried. You see, they didn’t know that I was an explorer, strong and brave. They still harboured this silly notion that I was a vulnerable seven year old little boy. It was getting late and now I was a seven year old little boy who should have been home a couple of hours ago and who still hadn’t called. And so, when phoning the homes of my friends and driving around town to look for me proved fruitless, my parents resorted to calling the police.

Just as the intrepid explorers finally arrived at his driveway at about 7:00 PM – our shoes soaked through from chasing pirates in the river, our hands and faces dirtied and scratched from hiding in the trees – a police car pulled up beside us. The officer rolled down and his window and asked if we were David Smith and Brian Wilker. Scolding us, he ordered me to get in the car and wait while he escorted David to the front door of his house.

For some reason he seemed to think we were lost and helpless. I guess he too didn’t understand that we weren’t the little boys we appeared to be but explorers, strong and brave.

* * *

This is my “The Day I Got Lost And My Parents Had to Send Out the Cops to Find Me” story. Fortunately for me, everything turned out alright. I wasn’t hit by a car. I didn’t drown in the Grand River. I wasn’t kidnapped, beaten-up, or worse. Out of love and compassion for me my parents sent someone out to find me, and everything turned out just fine.

And although the details may be different, I think we all have our own stories of ‘the day we got lost.’ Maybe you literally were got lost as a child. But there are many ways of being ‘lost.’ Maybe you got a little lost by sneaking that first drag of a cigarette. Maybe it was that first sip of alcohol, or that time you thought it’d be cool to get high with your friends. Some of us are lucky and we arrive home safely after that first experience of being lost, feeling fortunate that nothing really bad happened. Others don’t make it home right away, but because someone loves them – has compassion for them – eventually they too make it home having learned a valuable lesson. Unfortunately, still others – alcoholics, drug addicts, people addicted to the hunt for fortune and fame – others seem lost forever, never making it home, living their whole lives in a state of depression, anger, denial, or self-loathing. Some even die.

* * *

Matthew tells us, “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”

“Harassed and helpless.” Another way of saying, they were lost.

It’s not difficult to perceive of our world as “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Pakistan and India stand at the threshold of nuclear war. Feeling helpless, Palestinians blow themselves up hoping to take as many Israelis with them as possible. Feeling harassed, Israel sends out army tanks into Palestinian territory because doing something feels better than doing nothing.

Back here at home, believe me when I say that there is not one family gathered here today, not one person who does not know what it is to feel harassed and helpless about something. Maybe it’s about money. Maybe it’s about learning to live with illness, or grieving over loss. Maybe it’s about divorce or some other broken relationship. Maybe its just a general sense of meaninglessness. Everybody, to one degree or another, feels harassed and helpless.

News of Friday night’s murder suicide in small-town Grimsby is, of course, shocking. The family was described as “respected.” Apparently, no one saw this tragedy coming. “All we like sheep have gone astray.”

“Jesus looked at the crowds, and he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep with a shepherd.”

* * *

It should not surprise us that, in his compassion, Jesus feels moved to do something about the pain, loneliness, and helplessness he sees. But notice that he doesn’t wave his hand over the crowds and pronounce a general blessing of happiness and contentment. He doesn’t go into the synagogue and pray to his Father that everyone might know peace. And he doesn’t send down an army of heavenly angels to overcome the evil powers of the oppressive Roman Empire.

Instead, Matthew tells us that, “Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness.”

Now, let’s assume for a moment that these twelve – even with all the power granted them by Jesus – could even begin to address the needs of all those people for whom Jesus had compassion. Let’s just set that monumental task aside for a moment and consider the qualifications of just three of these people Jesus feels confident sending out to soothe the pain and emptiness of the crowds.

First, there’s Simon whom Jesus renamed Peter declaring, “upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Yes, this is the same Simon Peter who would yet deny Jesus, not once, but three times.

And then, there’s Matthew who at this point is still identified by his job title – that of ‘tax-collector.’ In other words (as those of us from Christ Lutheran learned last week), he’s a filthy dirty, lying, back-stabbing cheat who earns his living on the backs of the poor.

Finally – and notice how the best is saved for last – there’s Judas Iscariot, the one whose betrayal leads Jesus to the cross.

This is quite a bunch of characters Jesus confidently sends out to save the lost. But maybe that’s precisely the point.

When Matthew tells us that Jesus had compassion on the crowds, he is revealing to us the salient feature of the incarnation; Jesus as Immanuel – God with us. The English word “compassion” literally means ‘to suffer with.’ It is more than being kind. It is more than feeling sorry for someone. It is almost more of an involuntary emotional-physical reaction than a decision. By the time my parents called the police to go out and look for me, you can bet that they could quite literally feel their love for me in their bones – they may have been shaking, their stomachs may have felt tied up in knots. That is what it feels like to be “moved to compassion.”

When Jesus saw the crowds and was moved to compassion for them, it wasn’t about feeling sorry for them and the plight they were in. It wasn’t just kindness and mercy that moved Jesus to act. It was about Jesus suffering along with the crowds in their harassment and helplessness. In that moment, Jesus too was harassed and helpless. In the words of Henri Nowen, at that moment Jesus became a “wounded healer.” Compassion, by its very nature, is acted upon, not out of strength, but out of broken-ness. Jesus’ power to heal and to forgive doesn’t come from his divinity, but from his humanity.

And so Jesus sent out wounded, imperfect human ministers to offer healing and forgiveness in his name. Jesus sends us too as wounded healers – people with the power to forgive which is ours only because we know what it is to mess up and still be forgiven by God; people with the power to heal only because we know what it is to be broken, yet who boast because, as Paul says, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

* * *

Shortly after her death, there was a movement to beatify Mother Theresa – that is, the Pope was asked to make her a saint. Very soon after that revelations were made about Mother Theresa suggesting that, for all her good work with the poor of India, maybe she wasn’t such a nice person after all. It was said that she was arrogant, and that she had a lust for power, and that her organization wasted funds carelessly. Still, as true as those allegations may yet prove to be, can there be any doubt about the healing she brought to the lives of so many people around the world?

Mother Theresa was a wounded healer. Imperfect. But, like Christ, Simon-Peter, Matthew, and (it seems) even Judas Iscariot, the healing she brought was borne of compassion.

* * *

We are all lost in some way – harassed and helpless. The differences among us are merely a matter of the degree of our brokenness – or maybe it’s a matter of how well we’ve learned to cover it up. Some of us are like seven year old immortal children, completely unaware of how lost we are. And that’s a shame, because it is only when we begin to acknowledge the reality of our lives – the good, the bad, and the ugly – that we are able to be the ministers Christ sends us out to be; ministers of compassion.

Can a business man see the shoplifter as something other than a hardened criminal?

Can the tax-paying home owner see the recipient of welfare as something other than a lazy bum feeding at the public trough.

Can the rich understand the cost of social services as something other than a drain on resources.

Yes. But only when, like Jesus, we are moved to compassion when we have seen the crowds and have known them to be like us, harassed and helpless as sheep without a shepherd.

Amen
Comments

2002-06-04T11:30:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached by myself, Brian Wilker-Frey, at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario. We are a congregation of the Eastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada. I hope you find meaning in these words. Follow the links. Send comments. Peace be with you.

This past Sunday was special in two respects. First, a small child was baptized - always a wonderful ocassion. Second, Barbara surprised me by having made arrangements with the church to mark the 5th Anniversary of my (our) ordination. It was a good day!

Pentecost 2 (A)
Holy Baptism
Sunday, June 02, 2002
Text: Noah and the Ark, Matthew 7:21-29
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Today is a beautiful sunny day. But imagine another time and place with me, if you will.

"It is dark.

A shivering band of people has commandeered a cistern. In the depths of the earth the sound of moving water is heard. The slightest shuffling of feet echoes throughout the chamber. Most of the band are quiet, though a few whisper. Above the ground, heard only faintly from below, a rooster crows, marking the day’s beginning. Soon farmers and merchants will be rising from sleep to take up their daily occupations, unaware of the activity underground. They would not understand the quiet rites, nor approve, and might even take action against the participants if they had knowledge and opportunity.

Meanwhile, below, a leader has come to the fore, a man of serene but slightly severe appearance. He whispers some words in the almost eerie setting. Some of the people begin to take off their clothes, folding them and setting them aside. With great solemnity and in many cases no little fear they approach the bowl of the cistern where water bubbles and flows. The children are put forward and dipped in first, after some questions which in many cases are answered for them. Then come the older children and men. They are asked a number of very serious questions; after answering, and being placed under the water, they come out struck dumb by an experience of both physical and spiritual shock. Finally the women remove all their ornaments and loosen their hair. They are to have no alien objects, no rings or jewelry or bandages on them. Warily they step into the water and come out, dressing again in the now brightening glow of candles and torches…

They have been baptized."

These words, by the American Lutheran author Martin E. Marty [Baptism, Fortress Press, 1962, pages 4 – 5.], describe the rite of Holy Baptism as it may have occurred in the first decades of Christianity. What strikes me most is the atmosphere of darkness and fear. It was no light thing to be baptized or to have your family baptized in those days before Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire. It was dangerous, hidden away below the ground before daybreak. The atmosphere was heavy, not just with spiritual significance, but with the realization that what is being done may have severe and dire consequences in the physical world. It was like watching storm clouds gathering – hopefully they had been properly prepared.

* * *

Let’s face it, though it is still Holy Baptism, what we are doing here today looks and feels very different. It is daylight and the sun shines brightly upon what we are doing. Anybody could walk up to our windows and watch; indeed, they’d be invited in. For there is nothing to fear. This is a church where, far from hiding from the public, we build the peak of the roof high and proudly display a sign out front saying who we are and declaring, “everyone welcome!”

Alston and Stacey-Ann, you have brought your daughter, Cheyenne, for her baptism – it is a day to celebrate and give thanks to God for her precious life. At worst, the culture is merely ambivalent about what we are doing this morning. Many still encourage it. There are no storm clouds brewing on the horizon here.

Or are there?

Our experience of this sacrament is very different from that of the early Christians. Yet it is still baptism. One experience is not any ‘better’ than the other. We believe God works the same benefits in both. The question for us is, without an atmosphere laden with fear and significance – without the storm clouds on the horizon – can we, can Cheyenne, derive the same benefits?

* * *

Two of our lessons this morning dwell on the danger of the brewing storm clouds. Noah is called to build an ark in which he, his family, and two of every kind of animal on earth will be spared the devastation of the storm God is about to bring. Jesus talks about the gathering clouds, the ark of safety being his own very words which offer salvation. “Everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall because it had been founded on rock.”

On a lovely day like this, on the day of beautiful Cheyenne’s baptism, we don’t want to think about storm clouds or rain. We want to focus on all the wonderful potential wrapped up in her little body – all the joy and laughter and the fulfillment of dreams yet to come. It’s fun to gather and talk about all the incredible things she’s already learned to do, and to joke around about what she may do for a living when she grows up. As a pastor noted to the mother after a particularly difficult service during which her infant daughter cried the whole time, “she’ll make a wonderful member of the choir some day.”

And maybe she will. With Cheyenne, anything is still possible.

But then somebody says it, usually just quietly to his or her spouse or friend. “It’s so scary raising a child these days, isn’t it.” And then the theme is passed around the room. Someone talks about the gun that was found at such-and-such a school this week. Someone else reminds the group how easy it is to acquire drugs these days. One of the elderly there remarks about how the youth today have no respect for age or authority. The Young Offenders Act is a joke. Children are suffering at the hands of bully’s. Downtown is full of kids running away from their parents. On and on it goes, storm clouds gathering, until Cheyenne’s parents – Stacey-Ann and Alston – must ask themselves, “How are we going to protect her?”

How, indeed?

* * *

Because today is not laden with an atmosphere of darkness and fear, it’s possible that much of what happens here today may be remembered only as “that beautiful June morning when Cheyenne was baptized.” But please know that, in bringing her to be baptized this morning, you have already begun to protect Cheyenne and prepare her for whatever storms she may face in her life. The story into which she is being baptized is a story we call ‘the gospel.’ It is a story of salvation. It is a story of freedom. It is a story of liberation. It is the story of life actually passing through the storm clouds of death and emerging, like Noah and his family, whole on the other side.

* * *

So, what then, have those early Christians, baptizing in the bowels of the earth in an atmosphere of darkness and fear, to teach us today?

It seems to me that these people were not baptizing in preparation for the storm, but their passage through the waters was, as for Noah and his family, a passage through the very midst of the storm. They experienced the ‘gospel’, not as a good thing to believe, or as a nice way to live, but as the lens through which to view their whole lives.

We are all living in the midst of a storm. Some of us just hide it better than others. The rock of which Jesus spoke – his words of life – are the foundation upon which we live safely, abundantly, compassionately, and gracefully in the midst of the storm.

May Cheyenne find safe harbour there her whole life long.

Amen
Comments

2002-05-27T15:32:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

This past Sunday was Confirmation Sunday at Christ Lutheran when three young members of the congregation affirmed their baptisms and took on for themselves the responsibility of their faith lives.

Confirmation Sunday (A)
May 26, 2002
Text: Matthew 28:16-20, 2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

There is a debate going on between some pastors these days. The issue is about parents who want to have their children baptized, but who have absolutely no intention of darkening the doorway of the church ever again. I don’t claim to understand it, but there are probably a few reasons why these parents would want to bother going through the baptism hassle:

1) It’s a good photo-opportunity. Baptisms are one of the few times that families get together, and nothing makes for a better picture than the whole family surrounding a little baby in a church.

2) Another reason parents get the little guy “done,” is to please someone else, usually their own parents or grandparents who are still active in the church. Having the children baptized is still the expected thing to do in our culture.

3) The third reason why they do this is that Baptism is the closest thing our society has to a birth or naming ritual. As much as we put down empty-ritual in our society, we still need to do something to publicly mark the birth of our children.

And so, the question among pastors is: should they baptize these children, or not? Some say, “no, do not baptize these children.” They remind us that baptism is a sacrament. It is important. It deserves thoughtful, careful reflection, and commitment. After all, parents and Godparents make promises when they bring babies to be baptized: to bring the child to church; to teach them the Lord’s prayer, the 10 Commandments, and the Creed; and to provide for their child’s instruction in the Christian faith. If the parents have no intention of carrying through on these promises, why baptize their children? And so, they set up a system where by the parents, and maybe the sponsors as well, must make a commitment to go to “baptism classes” and show at least some respect for Baptism as a sacrament, as well as for the church and its traditions.

Other pastors say, “yes, by all means baptize these children - no questions asked.” They understand that baptism is important, and that it is a holy sacrament. But, they ask, who are we to put up barriers that might impede God’s grace? After all, it is not the parents that are being baptized, it is the child. More importantly, it is not the pastor’s actions in baptism that is important, it is God’s wonderful act of unconditional love. Who are we as pastors to get in the way of that love?

“Jesus said, ‘Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.’”

Where do I stand on this issue? It seems to me that there are an awful lot of people walking around who were given an incredible gift in their baptism - the gift of love, the gift of grace. However, many people who received these wonderful gifts left them there in the font, just floating in the water. We can baptize all the people we want, but the gifts of baptism are only of any value if they are actually used. What good is getting a baseball glove for Christmas if it only sits on the shelf, never used? What good is getting a bicycle on your birthday if it only sits in the garage, never used? For me, the issue isn’t so much ‘should we baptize?’ – ‘should we make this wonderful gift available?’ - but rather, having made it available, how do we encourage the use of this wonderful gift God has given?

* * *

So, why all this talk about baptism on confirmation Sunday? Today, Leah, Robert, and Monika, the responsibility for the gift is handed on to you to have and to use as you see fit. It’s like you were given a bicycle on the day of your baptism, and your parents took great care to teach you how to ride the bike - they put training wheels on it and ran behind you until you learned balance - and they taught you the rules of the road, the safety rules, and so on. But, until today, you have not been able to just jump on it and ride it whenever or wherever you wanted. - Until today.

Today the bike is really yours. Today you take full responsibility for your faith. Not that you now know everything there is to know about God, or the church, or faith. Rather, you now know just enough to make your own responsible decisions about these things. You now know just enough to be able to take the gift God gave you in your baptism and use it to grow in freedom, knowing that, if you fall off the bike, God will be right there to pick you up and send you on your way again. Now you know just enough to make choices about the rest of your faith journey; just enough to make it an interesting and meaningful journey; just enough to be a disciple of Christ.

Okay, so now the bike's been given to you - now you’re a disciple of Christ. What does that mean? Where are you going to go on this bicycle? Where is the journey going to take you? That’s always the fascinating question, isn’t it? Will you be one of the vast majority of people who, after Confirmation, leave the bike lying on the side of the road choosing instead to head out on their own, leaving God and God’s precious gift behind? Or will you choose to hop on the bike and explore - to go down roads of faith you’ve never been on before, exploring, seeking, and asking questions?

You should know right here and now that it’s a lot easier and less risky to go the first route - to leave the bicycle on the side of the road and stick to the comfortable way following the crowd. The rules of this way are simple: there are no free lunches; you get what you deserve; success comes with hard work; and, look out for yourself because no one else is going to look out for you. It’s all very predictable and safe. It’s much easier to leave the bike on the side of the road and follow the crowd.

On the other hand, if you decide to accept the gift God gave you in baptism, you could find yourself in a church that says they believe in God’s love and grace, but doesn’t really act like it. You could find yourself making decisions that your friends don’t understand. You could find yourself on bumpy roads with steep hills and sudden curves. You could find yourself falling off the bike not sure if you really want to get back on.

Not surprisingly, most people choose to follow the crowd. Most people choose to play it safe. And you may find yourself choosing that way as well. But know one thing - no matter what you choose, you can always, at any point, decide to pick up God’s gift again and see where it takes you. It will always be there. The bicycle will always be in the garage if you want to take it for a spin.

Just before Jesus left his disciple to ascend into heaven he had this to say, his final words to them: “and remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

“I am with you always. Always. Always. Always.”

The gift doesn’t end. It is never taken back.

* * *

I started by talking about that debate between pastors about who should and should not be baptized. All pastors understand baptism to be a gift. For some the gift is like fine china. It is something to be careful with, something precious and fragile that could smash into a thousand pieces if mis-treated. And so they guard it very, very carefully dispensing it only a little at a time and only to those they are convinced deserve it. The others, myself included, believe it is a gift as well. But we believe it is a gift to be given out lavishly. We believe it is a sturdy gift, able to withstand all the pressures that society puts on it. To me, the gift of baptism cannot be destroyed - not by superficial parents looking or the photo opportunity, and not by people who just want to get the children “done.” The gift will not rust if left out in the rain. It will not be stolen if left lying on the road by the curbside.

So what am I saying to you? The gift is now your responsibility. It is a sturdy gift. Go ahead, test it. Abuse it. See if you can break it. You can’t even throw away! And when you’re ready, or more likely, when you need it most, you’ll find that the gift of God’s unconditional love and grace is still there, waiting for you to pick up and use again. It won’t have been shattered in a thousand pieces. Even the failings and the hypocrisy of the Church won’t have destroyed it. Because it is God’s gift, and it was given to you - to each of you.

* * *

I want to thank you for these past 2 years. I know you came to learn from me - but I think I also learned from you. You challenged me. You tested me. You made me think hard about why I think you should bother to accept God’s gift by affirming your baptism. In closing, this is why I think you might want to accept it. Because the story into which you were baptized is a good story. It’s a story of freedom, and liberation, and life – or, to use a ‘church’ word, it is a story of salvation. By affirming your baptism you are saying that you want to participate with God in feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and healing the sick. And in this world of passing fads, fashion, and pop culture, the gifts of God’s grace and unconditional love do not fade away. They are, in fact all that is really real. God’s love is like a rock you will be able to hold on to. It cannot be broken. It cannot be destroyed. Hold on to the gift. It is yours through Christ.

And may the grace of Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you always.

Amen.
Comments

2002-05-20T00:26:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

The Day of Pentecost (A)
Sunday, May 19, 2002
Text: Acts 2:1-21, John 7:37-39, 1 Corinthians 12:3b-12
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

This past week I was sitting with a group of Toronto Conference Lutheran pastors. As usual, after having a brief service of Holy Communion, we moved to a meeting room, formed our chairs into a circle, and prepared to share with each other the things going on in our ministry. This is often a very inspirational time for me. Sometimes I will hear the others reflecting some of the same concerns and frustrations I have about ministry, and I will realize that I am not alone; that others share my burdens.

In order to get the discussion going we are usually asked to go around the circle giving our name (for those who may be new to the group) and answering some question like: talk about something new happening in your parish. It is usually a great time of learning and conversation.

This week the leader of the group said, “tell us about your prayer life.”

I froze.

My prayer life. He wants to know about my prayer life!?

Now, I know, as a pastor that’s supposed to be an easy thing for me to talk about. But it’s not. After all, I’m not a Pentecostal Pastor; I’m not a Missionary Church Pastor. I’m a Lutheran Pastor. And in my experience growing up, Lutheran’s didn’t discuss this sort of thing. It was like discussing how much money you make. That’s nobody’s business!!

Someone once said that prayer in the Lutheran Church is like sex – every one does it, but nobody talks about it!

I guess I knew it was bound to happen someday – someone was going to ask me about my ‘spirituality.’ When it happened this week I managed to get through it somehow – I cracked a joke, everyone laughed, and we quickly moved on to the next person.

You might say that I suffer from a Spiritual Inferiority Complex. Some people love to talk about their spirituality, their prayer life, their relationship with God. If you are one of those people, bless you. But if you are not, if you are like me and you freeze up when someone asks you about your prayer life, then maybe you too suffer from SIC - Spiritual Inferiority Complex.

Okay, I just made the name up – you won’t find SIC in any medical dictionary. Still, I’m sure it exists. And I’m sure many people suffer from it. In my case, it was one of the factors that kept me from pursuing a seminary education for so long. I was convinced that I wasn’t ‘spiritual’ enough. I hadn’t had the correct spiritual experiences. I’ve never heard the wwoooosshhh of the Holy Spirit. Tongues of flame never rested on me as seemed to be the case of the disciples in ">our lesson from the book of Acts today.

But maybe I was being to hard on myself. After all, one doesn’t need to be an Olympic Athlete to be considered ‘physically fit,’ right? So let’s examine some of the less complex and exiting of the ‘correct’ spiritual experiences as Paul describes them to the church in Corinth to see if my Spiritual Inferiority Complex is real or imagined.

Speaking in tongues. Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe speaking in tongues is a real gift and I’ve met people who have experienced it – but it’s never happened to me.

What about the ability to interpret what a speaker of tongues has to say? Nope. I’ve never been able to do that.

The working of miracles? Nope, not me.

The gift of prophecy? Afraid not.

The gift of discernment of the spirits? I haven’t come across that one either. (I’m not even sure I know what that means!)

Well then, surely I can think of just one time in my life when the Holy Spirit moved in my life in such a unique and special way. Sorry, I can’t pick out an experience like that.

You see, it’s questions like this, and the answers I came up with, that resulted in me keeping at arms length from anything that might be called ‘spirituality.’ So it’s very clear to me – there’s no doubt about it – I am SIC. I suffer from a Spiritual Inferiority Complex. In some people’s books, I’ve never had the correct spiritual experience – and it has caused me to stop and ponder my spiritual life more than once. Perhaps the same is true for you.

What, then, was I to do? I could pray about it. I could rationalize it and tell myself that it didn’t really matter – that God loves me just as I am. But I kept getting the message over and over again – from television shows like “Seventh Heaven” and “Touched By An Angel,” from church, from the music I listened to – if I was just open to it, the Spirit would work in my life in a way that would be as plain as the nose on my face. If I just worked at it a little harder, I too could experience a Spiritual High. If I just created a prayer life for myself, then I too would have the correct spiritual experience.

Even non-Christians were getting into it. Eastern spiritual practices like Yoga, Buddhism, and Falun Gong were growing by leaps and bounds. Lutherans and other Protestants were re-discovering Roman Catholic forms of monastic spiritual discipline. Others found spiritual excitement on the Religious Right through such things as ‘family values’ and ‘making a decision for Christ.’ I would intentionally put myself in situations where I thought the Spirit would have ample opportunity to work in me, like special prayer services and Contemporary Christian Rock Concerts. I would try surrounding myself with people who I thought have had the right spiritual experience. Or, at the other extreme, I would try solitude – surrounding myself with silence, making myself open to hearing the voice of God.

And through all of it, nothing. If anything I had merely intensified my Spiritual Inferiority.

I guess I’m doing okay. The symptoms of SIC aren’t really that painful. I can live a pretty normal, healthy life – until someone says to me, “tell me about your prayer life,” and I freeze up. Such is the plight of those of us who suffer silently with our Spiritual Inferiority Complex.

* * *

It is a commonly held misconception that Jesus shunned institutional religious experience; that he stayed away from organized religion, instead preaching in the fields and on the streets where real people lived. While there is some truth to this, it is also true that Jesus clearly participated in the rituals and religious institutions of his time. We often read about him celebrating various festivals – weddings, the Passover. We read about him preaching in synagogues. Today we read about him participating in the Festival of Booths – a Jewish harvest festival and commemoration of God’s gift of the Law to Moses in the wilderness. Jesus didn’t shun religious or spiritual experience. Indeed, he often embraced it. But he certainly put a new twist on it, and, like today, he often got himself in trouble for doing so.

“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let anyone who believes in me, drink.”

Now, you have to realize that during the Festival of Booths a certain rite is performed in which Holy Water is poured out on the ground and offered back to God. Jesus said these words, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me,” in the midst of this rite. It would be like me standing at the altar with the bread and wine laid out before me saying to you, “you don’t need this stuff, my words will feed you.” I’d be kicked out of the ministry – and rightly so.

“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me.” What a strange thing to say at a festival whose very purpose is to thank God for the fact that they don’t have to be thirsty; that God has provided them with water – water for drinking, water for cleansing, water for healing. Who could be thirsty in the midst of this abundance of water? Who is Jesus talking to?

I think he’s talking to me, and to all of us who have a Spiritual Inferiority Complex. “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me… out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” There were many at the festival, and there may be some here today, saying to themselves, “maybe today I will feel it, maybe by coming here today the Spirit will finally work in me and I won’t be thirsty anymore.”

But Jesus is saying that the correct religious experience isn’t out there somewhere – it isn’t had by saying prayers everyday, or by coming up for communion. It isn’t had by surrounding ourselves with the right people, or by escaping into nature. Rather, spirituality is in your heart – or more correctly translated, in your belly. (I like the ‘belly’ translation. It’s easy to ignore the heart. Flipping through the channels on TV I may come across a programme highlighting the plight of starving children around the world. And while my heart may go out to them, it’s too easy to ignore my heart and simply change the channel. The heart can be easily ignored; but the belly, those ‘gut’ feelings, are much harder to disregard.) The correct spiritual experience is in our lives, and cannot be found apart from them. We can having nothing but correct spiritual experiences when our lives are lived in, with, and through the incarnation of God – in, with, and through Christ and his love.

The Holy Communion we will soon share together is not a way to get spirituality, but a way to celebrate the spirituality that is already ours. The eating of this meal is not a way to become spiritual, but a very special way to help us focus our already spiritual lives on Christ.

* * *

It must have been an incredible thing to see and experience the Holy Spirit coming to the disciples in the loud sound of a violent wind, the flames of the Spirit leaping among the disciples, the various languages being spoken. And I thank God that they, and others since, have had that kind of experience. It shows that the Holy Spirit didn’t just do something once, then sit back to see what would happen. But the experience is not mine. The Holy Spirit has worked in my life in a much simpler – dare I say, subversive? – way. It is difficult for me to put my finger on it. Maybe that’s your experience too. Just imagine the love and grace of God who has found a way to come to us – not in a one time big show – but in our very lives day after day, minute after minute.

We need not be thirsty. And we need not let the world – television, music, or even the church – tell us that we should be thirsty. We don’t have to have a Spiritual Inferiority Complex, because the Spirit is indeed with us too.

Thanks be to God.

Amen
Comments

2002-05-12T19:15:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Happy Mother's Day!!
Go here to learn a little bit about Julia Ward Howe - the 'founder' of Mother's Day - and to read her Mother's Day Proclamation of 1870.

Mother’s Day
Sunday, May 12, 2002
Text: 1 Samuel 2:1-10 (Hannah’s Song)
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Mother’s Day is not a church holiday. The lectionary assigns no particular texts for this day. There are no Mother’s Day ‘propers’ (prayers, sung responses, etc). It is neither a church feast nor festival. Mother’s Day is, as you may have heard it said before, a ‘Hallmark Holiday’- a day of sentiment. It is the one day of the year Mom is allowed out of the kitchen – a day set apart to say “thank you,” thus alleviating our guilt for not saying it on each of the other 364 days of the year as we ought.

Mother’s Day is a cultural commemoration day, not a church day. And so, many ministers ignore it or simply make passing reference to it in the sermon or the prayers. And I too will confess a strong pull within me to discount the day as a cultural icon and pretend that it’s not the predominant concern on most of our minds today. After all, surely the church’s concerns are greater and more ultimate than the sentimentality of Mother’s Day. Surely the gospel of Jesus Christ must take precedence over a culturally constructed holiday driven by the corporate interests of greeting card manufacturers, florist conglomerates, and the restaurant industry!

Did you know that Mother’s Day is the biggest day of the year for the restaurant industry? As a teenager, I worked at the Garafraxa Inn near Fergus (Ontario) as a dishwasher. I can tell you, there was no busier day of the year than Mother’s Day. I couldn’t keep up! Let me tell you, I was a good dishwasher. Even on busy days I kept pumping those dirty plates, glasses, knives and forks through the system. When I was on duty there was never a shortage of table-settings. But Mother’s Day – that was something else again! By closing time of Mother’s Day the dishes were piled to the ceiling! I recall the cook and I one year skipping school the next day just to come in and clean-up. Mother’s Day is a significant economy driving day in the restaurant industry in this country.

And that statement alone should be an obvious enough clue to us preachers suggesting that maybe Mother’s Day does indeed have something to say to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I simply cannot imagine Jesus preaching a parable like: The Kingdom of God is like a child who one day a year liberated his mother from the kitchen by taking her to a fine restaurant where they both feasted on a fine meal cooked by someone else and paid for with a credit card. That’s just not a parable Jesus would have preached.

On the other hand, however, I can imagine Jesus preaching: The Kingdom of God is like a woman who prayed to God for a child, and when the child came she was so thankful for this life that she sang praises to God, singing “There is no Holy One like the Lord; …no Rock like our God…”

This I can indeed imagine Jesus preaching. Which brings us to Hannah, the Old Testament woman to whom the song we sang as our Psalmody this morning is attributed. Hannah’s story is a parable of the Kingdom of God. It is an illustration of God’s mercy, grace, and lovingkindness. Hannah’s story is a Mother’s Day story, not sugar coated in sentimentality and cheap commercialism, but brimming full with the Gospel – the backwards, upside-down, seemingly foolish way God has of loving us.

Hannah is said to have lived before Israel was ruled by a king; at a time when the affairs of God’s people and the 12 tribes of Israel were over seen by Judges – wise, brave, and good men and women who tried valiantly to guide the people in God’s ways. You may recall the story of Samson from your Sunday School days. He was a Judge. So was Deborah.

This system of government in Israel’s history lasted only a few generations before other powers in the Middle East began to take advantage of Israel’s de-centralized (and thus, militarily and politically weak) government. The most famous of these Middle East enemies of Israel were the Philistines – again from Sunday School, you’ll probably recall the story of the shepherd David taking on the Philistine giant warrior, Goliath. By the time in which Hannah’s story is set, things had just about come to a violent climax between the Israelites and the Philistines. Thus the stage is set for Hannah’s child to play a great role in Israel’s history by anointing their first King who would unite the 12 tribes of Israel and form one, strong nation. The only problem was, Hannah – like so many other Old Testament women – was barren. Hannah was unable to conceive a child.

Now, in a culture and religion in which immortality existed, not through a heavenly life after death, but through the birth of children who would carry on the family name and tell the family stories to their children, in such a culture and religion barrenness was not a unfortunate and sad situation – it was a curse from God! The Bible tells us that God himself had closed Hannah’s womb. Even today I’m not sure if we can really understand the emotional pain that women who cannot conceive children go through. Sadly, it is generally a silent, unshared pain. We don’t publicly declare these women cursed by God, but they no doubt feel that way, none-the-less. And then again, maybe our modern day veneration of motherhood through ‘Mother’s Day’ is, in a way, a public declaration of God’s curse upon such women (if only in an un-conscience way) and is something we ought to be sensitive to.

Well, in Hannah’s time bareness was a overt public humiliation. Women were already regarded as little more than chattle – good only for cooking, cleaning, and bearing children. A woman unable to conceive had no value to society whatsoever. They were like the homeless on our downtown streets – a drain on the communities resources, better to be hidden away somewhere, unworthy of caring or compassion. The ability to bear children was a confirmation of God’s blessings. The presence of women who could not conceive made people question if God really did love them more than everyone else.

As in any good story or parable of God’s Kingdom, Hannah of course asks God for a child, and God’s answer is indeed “yes.” But the story is clear: the birth of this child is not a confirmation of the special place God holds for women who are able to conceive, but of the special place God holds for all people whom society has rejected. In Old Testament times the rejected were foreigners, the poor, and barren women (an ugly term that communicates how ugly these women were in society’s eyes). In Jesus time the rejected and unloved were, among others, the unclean – lepers, the mentally ill, people possessed by unclean spirits. Who are the rejected in our time? In many cases it is the homeless, in other cases immigrants, or gays and lesbians, or the elderly, or the disabled – the list goes on and on – people, it seems, who must finally turn to the courts, as Marc Hall was forced to this week, just to receive any form of fair consideration, which is still a long way from the compassion God calls us all to show.

Hannah’s song of praise says it best: The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength. Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread, but those who were hungry are fat with spoil. The barren has borne seven, but she who has many children is forlorn… God raises up the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap…

* * *

With what can we compare the Kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a barren woman who prayed to God for a child, and when the child came she was so thankful for this life that she sang praises to God, singing “There is no Holy One like the Lord; …no Rock like our God…”

* * *

Motherhood is a wonderful and glorious thing. And to set aside only one day out of 365 shows just how much our society really undervalues all our mothers do for us. But like a mother who loves all her children equally but who may have to show special attention to one or another of her children who have special needs, God too has special concern for those society would rather leave behind.

On this Mother’s Day let us not praise the accident of nature which is the ability to conceive and bear children. Let us instead remember Hannah and others like her – the rejected, the unloved – for whom God has the deepest compassion, and to whom God calls us all to show acceptance and mercy. This is what the Kingdom of God is like.

Amen

Comments

2002-05-06T07:23:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

As you know, this site is available to all and, as the name implies, all are welcomed here. I am wondering, however, if it is fulfilling its original purpose; that is, a) to make the Sunday Sermon at Christ Lutheran available to those who couldn't make it on Sunday morning, and b) to give the people of Christ Lutheran the opportunity to provide feedback to the sermon - what was good, bad, or ugly. I know that he second goal has never been accomplished, and I'm wondering if the first goal is being addressed. So, if you are a Christ Lutheran Person (however you define that), please respond through the comments link to say you came to the site. Once is all I need so I can go back to the Mutual Ministry Committee and justify the two hours or so it takes to post each sermon.

Thanks.

Now, on to your regularly scheduled sermon.

Easter 6 (A)
Sunday, May 05, 2002
Text: Mark 4:1-9, 26-32, Acts 17:16-34
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

In the village of New Dundee, – pop. 800 – Betty, of the United Brethren Church, would call Marie from my church every Sunday afternoon and ask, “What happened in church today?” Marie would give her a brief synopsis of the service – if it was a special service, what the choir sang, if there was a soloist or a guest preacher, what the Sermon Title was; that kind of thing. Betty would then say, “thank you very much,” and proceed to call representatives from the other 3 churches in town. On the following Wednesday, when the “Ayr News” was published, you could turn to the New Dundee page and read about what happened at all the local churches on Sunday morning.

Can you imagine such a thing appearing in any of the Toronto daily newspapers? Just imagine opening the Toronto Sun tomorrow morning and finding there, next to the Sunshine Girl, a headline reading, “Christ Lutheran Blesses Community Garden!”

We who live in the large and sophisticated city can laugh at the practices of small town living, but Betty’s church articles in the ‘Ayr News’ each week points to something lost in our culture – the free exchange of religious thought.

There was a time in this city when religious thought was taken seriously in our culture. Today’s Toronto Star might contain two or three sections dedicated to automobiles with only a page or two in the Saturday paper dedicated to religion. But take a look at copies of the Toronto Star or the Globe and Mail from 40 years ago and you’ll find whole sermons printed there for public consumption.

Have you heard of Paul Tillich? Paul Tillich was a German theologian and a contemporary of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But, unlike Bonhoeffer, Tillich chose to leave Germany as Nazism began to take a foothold in Germany believing he could do more to oppose Hitler from without than from within. During the 1940s and 50s Tillich came to be regarded as the pre-eminent Lutheran and Protestant theologian in North America. His intellectual and well thought out ways of thinking and talking about the Church and Christianity had a profound effect on the Church. In the early 1960s his face actually graced the cover of New York Times Magazine. New York Times Magazine!! When was the last time a serious theologian shared a stage with world leaders, CEOs and Hollywood stars?

Sad to say that, in the past 40 years, serious religious thought and the exchange of religious ideas as common public discourse has taken a back seat to science, economics, politics, and Hollywood gossip.

* * *

The story we read earlier about the Apostle Paul in the book of Acts reveals a bygone age when religious and philosophical thought was deemed to have much greater public value.

Paul is in the great city of Athens – the centre in his time for learning, art, and culture. As he passes through the city he is both intrigued and troubled by the many statues and temples dedicated to the various Greek gods. Paul could plainly see that the people of Athens were a religious people, but as a monotheistic Jew he was bothered by the preponderance of gods. His teaching in the local synagogue about the one God, and this God’s revelation and gift of salvation through Jesus Christ, takes root in some of the people of Athens, so they take him to the Areopagus to hear more. And there Paul says to them, God is not so far away from you as you may think – on the mountain tops, in your shrines, or in the heavens. And then Paul does something brilliant – he quotes from Greek poets and scholars to help them understand. “In God we live and move and have our being,” he reminds them, “for we too are his offspring,” quoting one of their own hymns.

Finally he presents his understanding of the resurrection, saying, “God has fixed a day on which the world will be judged in righteousness by one whom God has appointed, and of this God has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

While it is true that the seeds which began to take root in some Athenians at the Jewish synagogue shriveled up and faded away at Paul’s mention of the resurrection in the Areopagus, in others the resurrection was the good soil they needed; and some, we are told, became believers.

* * *

This story of Paul in Athens helps us understand what it means to cultivate good soil in the heart – soil ready take the seed of Life, cradle it and nurture it so that it is able to take deep root, grow, and produce much fruit. Primarily this happens for Paul, not by bashing the people into submitting to his doctrine, but through conversation, debate, and the free exchange of religious thought. What a interesting place the Areopagus must have been if it truly was alive with such discussion.

Where would Paul go today to exchange in this conversation and debate? Where is the Areopagus of today? Would Paul speak in our public squares or in our daily newspapers? Not likely. In these places today religious thought is irrelevant because it doesn’t contribute to the production or accumulation of wealth. In our squares or in the newspapers Paul would be ignored.

In our schools? Perhaps. I know that many Christians today lament the loss of the Lord’s Prayer as part of regular morning opening exercises. I am not among them. I believe our schools are a great place – not to teach religion – but to teach about religion. I see evidence that our schools are handling religion in a more healthy way than ever before – talking about the different ways of believing among our many different people. This is a good thing. But I don’t think our elementary, secondary, or post-secondary schools are yet the Areopagus where the free exchange of religious thought is encouraged and nurtured. Paul would not have been heard in our schools.

Today’s Areopagus should be the churches, shouldn’t it? – yet I’m not sure Paul would be welcomed here either, not like he was welcomed in Athens.

Unlike Athens, we have no altars ‘to an unknown god.’ The gods of our churches are well known beginning with who our God accepts and rejects down to how many of our God’s angels can dance on the head of a pin! This is to suggest that churches today believe they have too many answers and are too afraid to ask questions and engage in conversation as Paul did in Athens. Certainly unwavering faith makes the soil of our hearts rich, and many find peace in having their questions answered with ultimate authority. But as I hope we might learn from the recent child abuse scandal in the American Roman Catholic Church, such an environment makes our rich soil also very shallow. What takes root in our churches which claim to have all the answers and which are not open to questions is frail and easily uprooted at the first sign of crisis – illness, poverty, or impending death. No, Paul would not be welcome in our churches. Why, he didn’t even mention Jesus’ name when preaching to the Athenians!

* * *

God is that in which we live and move and have our being. I like what Paul has said here, partly because I believe it is so true, but mostly because I like the way this phrase cultivates the soil of our hearts. God is that in which we live and move and have our being. This expression of faith is open to questions; indeed, it invites them! How do we live and move in God? What does it mean to ‘have being’ (a question with which Paul Tillich tackled)? Can we exist without having being? What doctrines and worship practices must we engage in to live and move in this God?

On and on the questions go, each of them only able to flourish in soil which is rich enough to nurture us and deep enough to sustain our questions – and even our doubts.

A beautiful contemporary hymn pleads, “Lord, let my heart be good soil” (With One Voice, #713) May it be so for us all.

Amen

Comments

2002-04-10T23:15:00.000-04:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church (Eastern Synod, ELCIC), Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

I'm sorry for posting so late this week. I've been busy wrapping up loose ends before Barb and I take a couple weeks vacation - Kelowna, B.C. for a few days with my sister and her family, and Brooksville, Fla. for a few days with my Mom.

The sermon this week refers to a letter sent out by the National Bishop of the ELCIC about recent events in the Middle East. The letter can be read here, and check out the press release at the ELCIC web site.

As usual, comments are always welcome.

See you again in a couple of weeks!

Easter 2 (A)
Sunday, April 07, 2002
Text: John 20:19-31
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Referring to the escalation of the violence this week – particularly in Israel and the West Bank – a Toronto radio broadcaster asked, “What are the churches going to say about all this on Sunday?”

What, indeed?

Bishop Schultz’s letter is a good start. “Pray for… people on both sides of the conflict… desist from discrimination… be agents by which people are brought into peaceful relationship… and through whom the peace of Christ is expressed.”

The Bishop’s letter focuses our attention on the events in the Old city of Bethlehem where Palestinian Muslims and Christians are hiding out fearful of the Israeli offensive in Palestinian territory. Water and hydro have been disconnected. Many have fled to churches as traditional places of refuge, but even these are not safe. Events surrounding the Church of the Nativity are in the news daily. Today’s NY Times has a picture showing a Palestinian priest standing at a shattered widow of the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church.

These events in Bethlehem have attracted international attention because of the biblical significance of the city of Bethlehem. What is going on there is also happening throughout the West Bank as the Israeli Army seeks to accomplish it’s mission. Bishop Schultz has rightly added his voice to voices of concern around the world.

But there is much the Bishop’s letter does not address. Indicted are the Israeli’s for their contravention of the Geneva Convention, while nothing is said about Palestinian suicide bombers. Neither does the letter address any of the root causes of the current situation.

In fairness, the letter is about saving lives today and cooling off hot tempers before real war breaks out. In short, it is about peace. It suggests that if peace is chosen today and again tomorrow, and again the day after that, then peace will be sustained and Israel and the Palestinian Authority can put their efforts toward living in harmony and not towards killing each other. The Bishop’s effort is laudable. Thank God ours is a Bishop who believes in and strives for peace. But what is this ‘peace’ which the world seems to find so elusive these days?

* * *

Today’s gospel lesson describes a scene that must be frightfully familiar throughout the Middle East this morning with the disciples cowering behind locked doors in fear of the authorities. According to John, it is at that moment that the risen Christ suddenly stands before them saying, “Peace be with you.”

Can you imagine Jesus standing among the scared people in the Church of the Nativity today, saying “Peace be with you,” while there is every possibility that a mortar shell might come crashing through a wall at any moment?

Or how about Jesus standing on a street corner in Jerusalem saying, “Peace be with you,” only seconds after a suicide bomber has killed him or herself together with half a dozen innocent bystanders while injuring many others?

It’s one thing for us to share the peace among each other when we are actually living peaceful lives. It seems quite another for peace to be declared in the midst of chaos. One might even suggest that it’s naïve, even inappropriate.

But, according to John, there was Jesus declaring peace to the disciples in the midst of their chaos.

By any measure, this is an amazing story. Even through locked doors Jesus is able to appear to the disciples. And this is not just some vision of Christ or merely wishful thinking on the part of the disciples, for when Jesus comes to them a second time he invites Thomas to touch his wounds and see that they are real. John then goes on to tell us why he reported this story the way he did. “…these are written,” he says, “so that you may come to believe…” This is an amazing story told so that we might believe.

And because John’s purpose in telling this story is that we might believe, he does not address the question of Jesus’ declaration of peace in the midst of chaos. We are not told about the disciples reaction. Were their fears calmed? Was their situation made better because Jesus declared peace to them and breathed on them? Did the chaos in which they lived – their fear of the Jews – did Jesus make that threat go away?

John does not tell us these things because they are not his questions. His were questions of faith, not survival.

But today, all around the world, and especially in the West Bank and the Gaza strip, people are living in fear for their lives behind locked doors. What does it mean to say to these people, as Bishop Schultz has said to us today, “We hold to the promise that present hardships and threats to life cannot prevail over the new creation which God has brought about in raising Jesus from the dead.” What does it mean to say to them, “Jesus appeared among them saying, ‘Peace be with you?’”

Can peace live in the midst of chaos? Does peace – even God’s peace – dispel chaos? Does true peace make chaos go away?

Christianity answers these questions saying, “yes, peace does live in the midst of chaos,” and “no, even God’s peace does not dispel chaos.”

This is both the glorious proclamation of our faith, and our greatest challenge. For if we can believe that peace can exist in the midst of fear, grief, pain, and suffering, then there is hope. And if even God’s peace does not make bad things go away, then ours is not merely an idle or fanciful hope, but one that lives and breathes and acts in the midst of pain and grief and suffering. We cannot make suffering disappear, but we can bring to it mercy.

And so, among those cowering in fear within the walls of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem encircled by Israeli tanks, we stand among as the risen body of Christ saying, “Peace be with you.” Additionally, as the body of Christ here on the other side of the world, we do what we can to turn those tanks away.

And among those Israeli’s afraid to go to the pizza parlor for fear of another suicide bomber attack, we stand saying “Peace be with you.” And as the body of Christ on the other side of the ocean, we act to promote justice there in the middle East, and throughout the world, so no one feels compelled to blow themselves up ever again.

* * *

My dictionary partially defines ‘peace’ this way: a) freedom from war, b) serenity, calm, or quiet.

There are few around the world who would dispute these goals of peace. We seek it in international relations, and we seek it in our own lives. But peace defined this way cannot live in the midst of chaos. That is why it is so slippery, so seemingly unachievable.

God’s peace is different. God’s peace lives in the midst of chaos. That is why it is so unappealing to our death denying culture. Our hymn of the day which follows, “They Cast Their Nets,” (LBW, #449) describes it this way: the peace of God it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod. I’m not sure exactly what “strife closed in the sod” means, except that it may be suggesting that true peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of strife dealt with honestly, gracefully, and mercifully. And so the hymn ends: Then let us pray for just one thing, the marvelous peace of God.

Living with strife honestly and mercifully. This is the marvelous peace of God.

Amen

Comments

2002-03-31T17:44:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church (Eastern Synod, ELCIC), Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Easter Sunday (A)
Sunday, March 31, 2002
Text: Matthew 28:1-10
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

I like cemeteries. I hope that’s not too weird.

Now, I know cemeteries aren’t for everybody. Some people are positively freaked out by them – the thought of all those people who once led vital and active lives, now just corpses decaying under foot. Maybe they’ve seen too many horror movies. Maybe they imagine spirits and ghosts floating among the tombstones. I don’t know, because cemeteries have no ‘freaky’ effect on me at all.

I guess I have my grandparents to thank for that. They were the custodians of their church, and so I spent many days helping them tend the church cemetery – mowing the grass and trimming around the foundations of the grave-markers. It is a very old rural graveyard where I spent so much time, and very large. There have never been many people living in Tavistock, but fully a third of those who have lived and died there over the last 150 years are buried in Trinity Lutheran Cemetery – and I’m related to most of them. My grandparents delighted in showing me the tombstones of my ancestors, translating the German on the older stones, pointing out the relationships between them and living people I might have known. I would read the names on the stones and imagine their lives. I would subtract the date of birth of from the date of death to calculate their age and marvel at how young so many of them were when they died. To my mind, my time in the graveyard was a good, wholesome education.

So, I like cemeteries and how they connect us to our past. But more than that, I like cemeteries for their peace and serenity.

* * *

Part of the training to be a minister consists of working as a chaplain for three months in an institutional setting. I spent my time in a hospital in Kitchener. It was a very intense experience for me, as it is for all the seminary students who go through it. For most of us, it was our first sustained experience of life and death, so we all found ways to escape.

I escaped, along with five other students who I was going through the process with, by taking long walks through the cemetery across the road. Tacking an extra 30 or 40 minutes to the lunch break and walking through the cemetery seemed to be just what we needed to go back onto our floors at the hospital and face the pain and suffering we knew we would find there.

People walk gently in cemeteries. They follow the pathways feeling no need to cut across the grass. Even if it’s just landscaped ground with no grave-marker there, still we’re content to take the long way around. Cars pass by slowly taking second place to pedestrians, careful not to distract visitors. Even funeral parties committing a loved one to the ground do so quietly with a certain degree of serenity.

I think I find the cemetery atmosphere appealing because that is the one place where I don’t expect anything to happen. Cell phones and pagers are turned off. There are no distractions. No interruptions. Nothing happens in a cemetery which might catch me off guard.

No doubt, that’s what the two Mary’s were thinking as they made their way to Jesus’ tomb early on that Sunday morning.

* * *

Matthew’s gospel tells us that the two Mary’s were going to the tomb just to see. Of course, as for those of us who like to wander through cemeteries today, there really was nothing to ‘see’ as such. Jesus’ tomb was closed up and carefully guarded. Even if they had been able to remove the stone themselves, the guards would never have allowed it. When Matthew says that they went to ‘see’ the tomb, he just means they went to be close to where Jesus’ body was. Just as when we visit the graves of our loved ones, we don’t expect anything to actually happen, the two Mary’s simply wanted to fulfill a need to be near Jesus’ remains. They just wanted to say good-bye and move on with their lives. The last thing they expected was for anything to happen – nothing happens in cemeteries.

But something did happen!

Matthew says there was a great earthquake and an angel appeared, rolled away the stone and sat on it! Now there’s something you don’t see everyday! What is more, this event was so striking that the hardened Roman soldiers appeared to have fainted dead away!

Cemeteries are supposed to be calm, serene, peaceful, predictable, places. But on this particular Sunday just before the dawn, it was anything but calm and serene. No wonder the first words out of the angel’s mouth were “do not fear!”

What the angel said next to them changed the women’s lives forever. “I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified” – in other words, I know you are looking for Jesus who was quite dead – “but he is not hear; he has been raised just as he said.” And then with the command to go and tell the disciples, the two Mary’s, not surprisingly, leave quickly with fear and great joy. Which was the stronger of the two emotions within them – fear or joy – is anybody’s guess. But they went and did as they were asked. And on their way Jesus met them; which, while no doubt was somewhat shocking too, probably paled in comparison to their cemetery experience of the earthquake, the angel, and the good news they encountered there!

* * *

Things aren’t supposed to happen in cemeteries. Dead people stay dead; those are the rules. If they don’t have to stay dead, than what other kind of anarchy is possible? Could the two Mary’s – two women – be the reliable first witnesses of the resurrection? Apparently so, for sure enough Peter and the others did as the Mary’s told them, heading back to Galilee with only the women’s word that Jesus really was alive. And if that’s possible, there’s no telling where things could go from there! Might the poor actually be blessed? The hungry, filled? The homeless, housed? The sick made well? The enslaved, liberated? It’s all too much! Give us back our calm and predictable cemetery. Let the dead stay dead. We’re not sure we can deal with the consequences otherwise!

I take back what I said earlier about which emotion – fear or joy – was stronger in the two women. No doubt it was fear. Fear seems to always overtake joy.

And yet, they did it. They overcame their fear and they witnessed against all odds. A: they were women, and B: they had a ridiculous story to tell. But they did it, and they were believed. And because of the witness of the two Mary’s the body of Christ has lived and flourished even to this day and in this very place.

* * *

Easter morning is pretty predictable here at Christ Lutheran Church, as it is in most churches today. The chancel is beautifully decorated with flowers. The hymns are joyful and upbeat. Everyone is happy and cheerful. And when I declare, “Christ is risen,” you, no doubt will respond, “he is risen, indeed!” As well you should.

And yet, don’t we have to ask ourselves, “so what? Good for Jesus, but what difference does his resurrection really make?”

I mean, would a little earthquake be such a bad thing? How about a good ol’ fashioned angel visitation to stir us up a bit?

Think of it this way. Imagine Mary Magdalene and the other Mary’s story a little differently. Imagine they go to the tomb just as Sunday morning is dawning. And sure enough, Jesus was raised sometime during the night, just as Matthew reports, but when the women arrive at the tomb, nothing has changed. Imagine that there is no earthquake, no angel visitation. The stone is not rolled away. They come to see the tomb. They see it, and they cry. They say good-bye. And then they leave to go back to their old lives. The cemetery is the peaceful, serene, predictable place it (and the church) has always been.

And so, in this version of the story, the Mary’s do not become the first witnesses of the gospel. As far as anybody knows, the dead stay dead just as they always have, and the anarchy which is the gospel of Christ is held once again at bay. There is no fear, but neither is there joy. Everything happens just as it always has.

* * *

BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED! God acted. God acted with grace; and God acted unpredictably, and powerfully, and creatively – and the women responded with faith. And it’s a good thing too – or else I’d be out of a job today!

* * *

The point is, God is causing earthquakes in our lives and sending angel visitations all over the place and in many wonderful and unpredictable ways. But we’re like the guards, shaking in our boots and falling down as though dead, missing the whole thing – the resurrection, the command to go and tell others, and that wonderful exhilarating feeling of joy and fear as the gospel comes to life all around and through us.

* * *

I don’t think God is calling us to be the guardians of the predictable and serene cemetery. I think we’re called to be Mary, (or perhaps Mary) – joyfully, fearfully, and faithfully witnessing to the resurrection and watching it all happen and change all around us.

Amen

Comments

2002-03-26T23:39:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church(Eastern Synod, ELCIC), Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Palm/Passion Sunday (A)
Sunday, March 24, 2002
Text: Matthew 21:1-11, Isaiah 50:4-9a, Matthew 23:37-39, Matthew 27:11-56
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Wow! Here it is, Palm Sunday with Easter only a week away. It feels like only a few weeks ago we were wrapping and unwrapping Christmas presents! Maybe that’s because it was only a few weeks ago – 13 weeks by my count.

As you may know, Easter, being a moveable holiday, couldn’t come any earlier this year. Most often the weather is agreeable enough that we can actually begin our procession of Palms from out in the parking lot like we did last year. But this year, with Easter falling as soon as it does, it is still too cold out.

Why is Easter – and consequently Palm Sunday – so early this year? The answer, as I’m sure many of you know, is because Easter falls on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. For example, then, there will be a full moon on Thursday night, only one week after the first day of spring which is always March 21. Therefore, with the full moon happening within the first week of Spring, Easter occurs as early in the year as it can possibly happen.

So, who decided that we should have such a convoluted way of calculating Easter, and why was it decided so? For that we have to go all the way back to the year 325 CE (Common Era – used to be referred to as AD), to the first real church convention – the Council of Nicea.

The Council of Nicea is famous – as those who came to the Lenten Series may remember – for hammering out the doctrine of the Holy Trinity and beginning what would become the Nicene Creed. But another, less famous decision of the Council of Nicea, was to choose the time at which Christians would celebrate Easter each year.

The problem was that some Christians were celebrating Easter according to the Jewish festival of Passover. Since Jesus was crucified at the Passover as the Lamb of God, it seemed appropriate to celebrate the Festival of the Resurrection of Christ three days after the Passover.

But in the year 325 the Christian Church had just been recently welcomed as the official church of the Roman Empire. Therefore, to many at the time, it seemed much more politically expedient to link the major Christian festival of the year – Easter – with the major Roman holiday of Spring Equinox. Thus the choice: a) retain Christianity’s historical and traditional Jewish roots; or, b) sever those roots and succumb to the Roman Julian calendar.

The Council of Nicea chose to formally reject their ties to Judaism and the Jewish Calendar and adopt the new ways of the Roman Empire. The practice of celebrating Easter based on the Roman Julian Calendar was begun and has stayed with the church in the west to this very day.

* * *

Now, choosing the date of Easter based on the dominant cultural calendar of the day may not seem like a big deal. But on that day in the year 325 CE the Council of Nicea made a choice which would alter the face of Christianity from that day forward; and that was the choice to adopt the rules and the ways of the Pax Romana – the Peace of Rome.

* * *

Ever since the day that Jesus was crucified, Christianity understood itself to be a movement which would be the alternative to the Peace of Rome – that alternative being the Peace of God. And as they looked back on the life and ministry of Jesus, the early Christians remembered how time and time again Jesus preached a message and lived a life that was the antithesis of the Peace of Rome – his famous entry into Jerusalem on a donkey and his death on the cross being the clearest examples of this.

In many real ways the Pax Romana – the Peace of Rome – actually lived up to its name. Under the Peace of Rome citizens could trade and do business under relative safety. Under Roman rule, women could safely walk the streets at night and business men could ship goods confident they would arrive safely to their destination.

But this peace and safety came a quite a price – a violent and oppressive price. The Peace of Rome was secured only because of the fear in which everyone lived of the Roman Army – the greatest military force the world had ever known to then. The Peace of Rome teaches that might is right, and that success is measured by how much one accumulates – those with the most toys at the end of the day are the winners.

Jesus, on the other hand, preached about the Kingdom of God which could only be secured through compassion, mercy, and love – sometimes, as in the case of his death, sacrificial love.

That’s exactly what Palm Sunday/Passion Sunday is all about; Jesus’ display of the Peace of God as an alternative to the Peace of Rome.

And for about 300 years the followers of Jesus did a pretty good job of living up to Jesus’ example by living and worshipping as people of the Kingdom of God rather than as people of the Roman Empire – and many paid a dear price of martyrdom for making that choice.

But the Council of Nicea changed all that. In what may seem like an insignificant decision to follow the Pax Romana on this one issue – the determination of the date of Easter – the Western church betrayed everything for which Christ lived and died setting a precedent which is difficult for us to break even to this day.

* * *

Things are changing, but Christianity is still the official church of the dominant western culture. And in many ways we choose to side with the Peace of Rome over the Peace of God time and time again. Every time we choose political expediency over compassion; the economy over ecology. When we uphold the letter of law over mercy. Every time we hold up tradition over grace.

* * *

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you, desolate.”

Jesus is speaking to us, the dominant church of the dominant culture of our time. Like a mother hen, Jesus desires to gather us under her wings of peace and compassion, and we are not willing.

* * *

Easter is the victory of the Kingdom of God. On the surface it would seem that victory is ours for the taking – just like victory over terrorism in Afghanistan seems like it is our by divine right, thus confusing the Peace of Rome with the Peace of God. And if we simply jump from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday we could be excused for making such a mistake.

But Easter Victory is tempered by three things over the next week:
- Jesus’ command to serve on Maundy Thursday
- his death on the cross on Good Friday
- and our dying to our old self in the waters of the creation, the flood, the Red Sea, and Holy Baptism at the Easter Vigil

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul quotes from a hymn of praise saying,
“though he was in the form of God, [Jesus] did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.”

I encourage you all, come to Maundy Thursday, come to Good Friday, come to the Easter Vigil, and prepare yourself fully for the real victory of Easter: the Peace of God over the Peace of Rome.

Amen

Comments

P.S. - sorry to those of you who were looking for the sermon on Monday or Tuesday. This week is a little busy!

2002-03-18T10:54:00.000-05:00

2002-03-11T11:09:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

This week's sermon is the result of my reflections from last Sunday's bible study group. Each Sunday morning at 9:30 a.m. members of the congregation come together to talk about the RCL (Revised Common Lectionary) text for the following Sunday. This is done to help our people understand the Hebrew Scriptures in context, but it also helps me understand what question/difficulties/concerns our people have regarding these texts, thus helping me in my sermon preparation. This sermon is a direct result of our discussion last week.

Please feel free to comment on what you find here.

Lent 4 (A)
Sunday, March 10, 2002
Text: 1 Samuel 16:1-13, John 9:1-41
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Are we a seditious gathering of subversive radicals out to destroy the very fabric of society? You bet we are – at least, that is what we are called to be. But it doesn’t really feel that way, does it?

Christ Lutheran Church has been standing here proudly for 41 years, and never in that time has the government come knocking concerned about our programmes, our prayers, or our activities. Why would it? We’ve never given them any cause for concern, have we?

Indeed, the Christian Church in North America has been the very symbol of civic responsibility. We are the nation’s volunteer army providing hot meals for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, community for the lonely. We preach kindness and peace. We are charitable. We have potluck dinners. We gather on Sundays to sing hymns to a God who encourages moderation in all things. What concern would the authorities have about us?

The community immediately surrounding us here in Agincourt may not support us very much, but they are very glad we are here. Our building is a symbol of stability and safety. Our building, tucked away as it is on a small corner of this suburban community, makes a statement. It says to potential newcomers: there is nothing to worry about here. This is a stable place. A safe place. And it says to potential trouble makers: your kind is not welcome here.

Indeed, the very existence of Christ Lutheran Church on the corner of Baylawn and Midland Avenue in Scarborough, Ontario has a very real and positive effect on the property values in this area!

Going through some of our records from the mid-90s, I came across a community survey – which I’m sure many of you remember. Ten years ago (much like we are today) you were trying to figure out what role God was calling you to play in this place. You asked the community how they would feel if changes were made around here; how they would have felt if, for example, a youth drop-in centre were built.

The response was loud and clear. Make no changes!! Some even expressed their concern about falling property values.

And so, with the exception of a fairly innocuous community garden, no changes were made. We quietly kept on playing our role as a status quo symbol of peace and stability in this community.

Whenever God acts, people are fearful. You could see that in your community survey, and we can see it in our two lessons for today.

* * *

The first king of Israel, King Saul, wasn’t working out. He had become a cruel and vindictive ruler. Initially called to lead the people of Israel in the way of God, he chose instead to lead them in his own way. Samuel had warned them. Among other things, he said their king would: draft their sons into his army, take their daughters to be perfumers, cooks and bakers, take the first-fruits of their vineyards and orchards, and take their best cattle and donkeys and put them to his work. [1 Samuel 8:10-22]

But the people wanted a king, and they wanted Saul – so God gave them what they wanted. And when Saul, inevitably, didn’t work out, God sent Samuel to Bethlehem to anoint a new ruler; this time, one of God’s own choosing.

And thus, the shepherd boy David was anointed King of Israel.

What is interesting, however, is the fear displayed by both Samuel and the people when they see that God has chosen to act.

Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me!…” (After all, Saul was still the king. Anointing a new king while one still sits on the throne is a very scary thing!) We are also told that as Samuel approached the town, the elders of Bethlehem came to meet Samuel trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” (When a prophet comes to town, things do not usually end well.)

Samuel was afraid, and the people of Bethlehem were trembling. God had chosen to act, and everyone got scared.

We often ask ourselves, “how do I know if I am doing God’s will?” Maybe this is a clue: if our actions make people uncomfortable – if they get scared about their property values – then there’s a good chance we’re on the right track!

Look at how crazy everyone gets when Jesus gives sight to a blind man on the Sabbath. The first thing the neigbours do when they discover that the blind man can see is run for the authorities. "Something’s not right here," they say. "Our comfortable lives have been disrupted. Get the authorities!!"

Of course, the Pharisees then get in a tizzy over the whole thing. When they can’t agree about what’s going on, the authorities turn back to the man. “What do you think,” they ask, as if his new-found sight makes him an authority on religion.

You’d think his parents would be happy. But no. When their son was blind, their world made sense. Now God acts, and they feel nothing but fear. “Don’t ask us what’s going on,” they say. “He’s of age. He will speak for himself.”

It seems the only one happy in this whole story is the man himself. He is so happy, in fact, that he even takes on the Pharisees with wit and sarcasm. “I have already told you what happened, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples?”

If the Pharisees weren’t uncomfortable enough with all these ‘goings ons,’ they’re furious now. In fact, the whole thing’s beginning to look like a town-hall meeting where one group of people, intent on doing what they believe is God’s will, come face-to-face with a group of profiteers intent on doing their own will. In the end, the Pharisees “revile” the man and drive him out of the synagogue.

If you had begun to make plans to build that youth centre ten years ago, you can bet that you would have had one or two town-hall meetings filled with the same high tempers and fear.

* * *

As one bible commentator pointed out regarding Samuel’s fear of King Saul as he headed for Bethlehem to anoint a new king, “God is more prepared for revolutionary activity than is Samuel.” Today, I think we can say, “God is more prepared for revolutionary activity than we are.”

God is more prepared for revolutionary activity than we are.

God acts subversively. The word ‘subversive’ has a negative connotation. We think of McCarthyism and remember America’s attempts to cleanse itself of ‘subversives’ in the 1950s.

Well, God acts subversively – always has. God is counter-cultural. God is radical. God is everything the church today is not. My goodness, what could be more subversive – more radical – than dying on a cross in order to bring salvation to the world?

Unfortunately, we would far rather reject the cross and cozy up with culture. We don’t want to be afraid. We don’t want to be uncomfortable. We don’t want God to act. And so we wander around stumbling from programme to programme, worship service to worship service wondering where our passion for ministry has gone.

Our passion for ministry has been swallowed up by fear.

But we need not be afraid. How many times has God, or the angels, or Jesus himself said it? “Fear not.”

Let us loose our bonds and our chains of fear. Let us embrace God’s subversive, radical, and invigorating will for us as individuals, and for our lives as God’s people of Christ Lutheran in this time and place.

Amen

Comments

2002-03-03T14:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Lent 3 (A)
Sunday, March 03, 2002
Text: John 4:4-42 (Exodus 17:1-7) (Psalm 95)
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

In India a train loaded with Hindus was returning from the site where a Hindu temple is being planned. A Muslim mosque once stood on that same site, but was raised to the ground 10 years ago. The controversy and the tension created by such a situation is obvious. On Wednesday of this week that train was set on fire and 58 people were killed. Fighting between Hindus and Muslims has continued, and this morning I read that 415 people have been killed so far. [Note: 6 hours later, as of the time when I posted the sermon, the death toll rose to 485.]

This morning I also read that yesterday another suicide bomber in Israel took his own life along with 9 others – including children – in the ongoing dispute between Israelis and Palestinians. [CBC now reports 20 Israelis killed in 12 hours.]

These conflicts of race and religion are only the most recent ones to have been brought to our attention. Tension and conflict rages around the world between peoples based on race, religion, ideology, theology, economic status, gender, and sexual orientation. From gay bashing to spousal abuse to open conflict in the streets, anger and violence erupts everywhere. And although Canada is more peaceful than many places, we are not immune. The powerful lord it over the weak. The rich lord it over the poor. Men lord it over women. The ‘haves’ lord it over the ‘have nots.’

What is it that causes us to get our backs up and strike out at each other – even against our neighbours and sometimes our own family and loved ones? What is the threat we feel from those who believe differently, love differently, look different, or who wear different clothes. Could we have been born this way, created with an innate sense to be fearful and distrustful of ‘the other?’

Jesus, it seems, thought not.

Today’s gospel lesson – a story traditionally told during the season of Lent – invites us to set all our fears, prejudices, and presumptions aside, and see another way.

* * *

Look on any map of 1st century Palestine and you’ll discover that the quickest way from Judea to Galilee is through a place called Samaria. But Samaritans and Jews didn’t get along, so many Jews would add many miles to their trip just to avoid it. Today we read a story in which Jesus either could not, or would not go another way. Jesus the Jew went right through the heart of Samaria.

The roots of the conflict between Samaritans and Jews go back a long way. Like many who fight today, if you go back far enough you will discover that Samaritans and Jews were once brothers and sisters who were called Israelites. Together they were led out of slavery in Egypt through the Red Sea and into the wilderness. Together they murmured and tested God in the wilderness as we read in this morning First Lesson and Psalm. And together their children entered the Promised Land.

But they could not, or would not, stay together, and Israel divided itself between the Israelites of the North who worshipped on Mount Gerazim and the Israelites of the South who worshipped on Mount Zion.

Someone once had the bright idea that if one of the temples were destroyed then maybe this divided people could be reunited. And so, 128 years before the birth of Christ, Jews destroyed the Samaritan temple on Mt. Gerazim. Of course, it didn’t work. Just like the destruction of the Jewish Temple in the year 70 C.E. (Common Era) by the Romans which didn’t end Judaism; just like the destruction of the Muslim Mosque 10 years ago in India which didn’t end Islam in that place; just like the crucifixion of Christ which didn’t put an end to Jesus’ followers; and just like gay bashing which hasn’t put an end to homosexuality, Jews and Samaritans remained a divided people. Such violence has rarely had the desired effect.

So that’s the world Jesus walked right into: Jew versus Samaritan, each with their heels planted firmly in the ground; each believing they are right and everyone else is wrong.

But Jesus’ audacity was even greater than that. At least when Jesus came to the Jews, he presented himself through respectable men like Nicodemus who we read about last week. But today he comes to the Samaritan people through a nameless women of somewhat questionable morality! Not only a Samaritan, but a woman at that!

And so, in just the first few verses of this long story, the scene is set. But when the scene is set like that in any of our lives, the result is always tension, if not outright conflict and violence. Jesus, the Jewish male, walking into Samaria and asking water of the Samaritan woman is like anti-globalization protesters asking the police for a ride home after a violent protest. It’s like Ralph Klein walking into a homeless shelter and asking the people there why they don’t go out and find a job. It’s like a Palestinian walking into Jerusalem and asking the people for their city back. It’s water and oil, and conflict is almost always the result.

But that’s not the result of today’s gospel lesson – the anticipated conflict is avoided and in fact Jesus is asked by the Samarian community to hang around awhile. He even stays for a couple of days! Unfortunately, because we have been living with this story for 2000 years, it’s difficult for us to appreciate just how radical this story really is. But let me impress upon you the fact that this story should not have ended this way – not in our world where tension due to differences so easily blows up into conflict and violence. But give credit to Jesus and the unnamed Samaritan woman. Together they work through their differences – all of them – and not only is conflict avoided, but unity is created! This story is every bit as miraculous as Jesus turning water into wine. Maybe the fact that Jesus pulls it off with a Samaritan woman is even more miraculous!

And while there are many things to learn from this story, let me draw out this one point for you. When Jesus and the woman came together at the well, you can bet that there was a great deal of tension for all the reasons I’ve spelled out – Jew and Samaritan; male and female. How is it possible that that tension did not spill over into conflict? By Jesus and the Woman being polite with each other – nice to each other? By pretending that there were no differences? By glossing over the differences?

Not at all. One of the reasons today’s gospel pericope is so long is that we had to walk with Jesus and the Woman as they acknowledged their differences and as they worked through each of them one at a time.

“Will you give me a drink,” asks Jesus, to which the Woman replies, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan. How can you ask me for a drink?”

There is it. All the cards are on the table. From there it’s just a matter of working it out piece by piece, detail by detail. He’s a Jew with nothing at his disposal to draw the water. She’s a Samaritan whose father is Jacob. He is offering even better water than this well gives. She’s skeptical, but she’s also a woman; maybe her husband can help sort this out. Ah, it turns out that she has no husband – she’s had 5 husbands, and the man she has now is not her husband!

If you doubted there was tension before, believe me, now that we’ve gotten into this woman’s sex life, things should really explode! But again, give credit to the Woman who, instead of getting defensive chooses to acknowledge Jesus gifts and asks how those gifts can be reconciled with the history that exists between their two peoples…

And on it goes. Jesus and the Woman working through their differences, acknowledging the tension and their differences, but never letting them become reasons to break into conflict, until finally at the end, the people of the village come to be followers of Christ because of the woman’s testimony.

* * *

The world is at war – not just the War Against Terrorism as declared the United States and its allies (including Canada), but in so many other ways as well. Wars are not fought between people who believe, live, act, and look alike. They are fought between people with differences – differences that upset, frighten, or threaten us at the core of our being. The world has gotten into the habit of ending wars by declaring winners and losers through the intervention into the conflict of the military, or of the police, or of the courts.

Jesus and the Samaritan Woman remind us that life isn’t about winning or losing conflicts. And it’s not about glossing over tensions as if they don’t exist until they explode into violence. Life is about living together and finding ways to celebrate our differences without violence.

Thus far, in the history of humanity, such a dream has been a utopia – literally, no place. Look at what is happening to even Gandhi’s dream in his beloved India today.

Still we hold on to the dream, confident in our God who, through Christ and others like the Samaritan Woman, inspires and encourages us to ever greater peace.

Amen

Comments

2002-02-24T20:17:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Lent 2 (A)
Sunday, February 24, 2002
Text: Genesis 12:1-4a; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 1-17
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

It had been carefully arranged. Nicodemus would meet Jesus three hours before sunrise outside the city walls. What would the others say if they knew? A Pharisee, a leader of the people, actually going to him, a rabble-rouser! But the things Jesus did and said… No, it wasn’t what he did or said, it was the way he did them, and that certain quality in his voice. He had to smile when he thought of it, but Jesus reminded Nicodemus of his own younger self. There was a time when Nicodemus poured over the scriptures with enthusiasm discovering insights he was sure no one had ever considered before. And some of the proclamations he made as a young man… ! Many thought him arrogant, but it got him noticed. Up he moved through the ranks. But with every move came less time for reading scripture and thinking his idealistic thoughts. As a young man he challenged the system; now he was the system. He almost felt giddy being so naughty, creeping through the streets like a common thief in the shadows avoiding any lighted place that might reveal his identity.

At one point he almost turned around. He was quietly sliding along a wall, his eyes darting up and down the street for any sign of movement, when he kicked something – no, not something, someone. It was a child – a little girl – sleeping in a dark corner. She stirred and looked up at Nicodemus with some indignation, but giving no sign that she recognized him. She muttered a curse and closed her eyes again.

Nicodemus paused a long pause, hardly daring to breath. He thought of turning back – back to his warm bed, back to his comfortable sleep, back to his good life. He looked down at the sleeping girl. Had she cursed him like that in the daylight, he would have had her put away. But here in the darkness they were somehow equal. He didn’t pity her, though he wondered where her mother was and why she was here on the street. But then again, she might have asked the same of him. Didn’t he have a better life elsewhere? What was he doing on the street? He left her there in the shadows and continued on toward the city walls.

Seated there only a few paces away was the man Nicodemus recognized as the one who had created such a stir, whose anger flared as he turned over the money-changers tables in the temple, and who shocked the crowd by suggesting that he could raise up the temple in three days. “Preposterous,” the Pharisees declared as they took council to determine what, if anything, should be done about this outrage. Nicodemus knew they would do nothing. Jesus had stirred the people up. Better to just let the turmoil die down. People would forget soon enough. But Nicodemus could not forget. He too knew that what Jesus had said was preposterous. The temple, almost finished now, had taken Herod and his father over 30 years to build. Nicodemus felt Jesus was saying something more. It was Passover. Could that have something to do with it? He spent sleepless nights thinking it over. Finally he made his mind up to ask Jesus himself. Plans were made, and now Jesus of Nazareth was right there outside the city walls.

The Pharisee stepped out of the shadows. “Rabbi,” he said.

* * *

I am intrigued by this little clause in John’s gospel: “[Nicodemus] came to Jesus by night…” For such a short, and seemingly insignificant clause, there is a lot going on here, and this story is an attempt to deal with some of it.

We have a similar statement in the story of Abram leaving his father and his homeland to go south to a land that God would show him. “So Abram went,” says Genesis, “as God had told him.”

It all sounds so simple. God’s calling; get up and go! But it’s never that easy, is it? It’s never that simple. We have families and responsibilities. Maybe we’re still in school. Maybe other people will think we’re being silly. Maybe the boss won’t like it and it’ll cost us our job, our position or our social status. Did Nicodemus have a wife? What did she think of his ridiculous plan. Imagine a member of the Ontario Legislature slipping out in the middle of the night to meet with a squeegee-kid who yelled something that caught their ear at a protest on the steps of Queen’s Park. What would people think? What if a newspaper reporter caught word of the meeting?

I am also intrigued by the movement in both of these stories. Nicodemus went from darkness to light – toward Jesus, who John’s gospel calls “the light of the world.” Abram and Sarai – who later in the story are called Abraham and Sarah – went from barrenness to becoming the father and mother of many nations. They went from empty, seemingly ridiculous promise to fulfillment.

Promise to fulfillment. Darkness to light. Out of nothing comes something. As Paul says to the Church cowering in the catacombs of Rome, God “gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” Paul tells us further that these amazing things are accomplished through faith – the faith of Abraham and Sarah; the faith of Nicodemus.

But faith does not occur in a vacuum. Faith is not what other people have which – if only we were better people, and if only the circumstances of our lives were a little different – we could have too. Many of us feel this way – other people’s lives look so easy, so clean and tidy. Why can’t we be just like them?

But the journey from darkness to light – from Ash Wednesday to Easter morning – is fraught with peril and failure for everyone. Nicodemus pulls off his encounter with Jesus, but we never hear another word from him until after Jesus’ dead body hangs limply from the cross. And though Sarai and Abram leave home heading for an unknown land and an unfamiliar life, they laugh at God’s promise that they will be the mother and father of nations – not to mention their many other screw-ups along the way. Abram and Sarai, and Nicodemus, together with all the people of faith we encounter in the Bible, were not good people – most of them, not by a long shot. So their faith must have had something to do with something else.

Faith is not a function of what we do or how well or poorly we do it. Faith is about who we are. And who we are we? We are children of God living in darkness but seeking the light, living in with doubt but seeking the fulfillment of a promise – the promise of abundant life, and not only for us, but for the whole world. So don’t worry. As Paul reminds us, we can no more earn faith than we could earn our birth. Faith is a gift. May God grant us the courage to accept it.

Amen

Comments

2002-02-17T21:57:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Enjoy the words, enjoy the links.

1st Sunday of Lent (A)
Sunday, February 17, 2002
Text: Matthew 4:1-11
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Some of you have either read J.R.R Tolkein’s famous trilogy of “The Lord of the Rings,” or perhaps you have seen the movie which was recently released. For those of you who have not, I let me describe the premise:

“The Lord of the Rings” is the story of good vs. evil, and it is the story of temptation. At the heart of this story lies a ring – a beautiful, magical ring. Among other traits, this ring has the power to render its wearer invisible. Now, in a battle of good verses evil, one would think that the ability to make oneself invisible would be a great advantage and that such a ring could be made to do much for the side of good. However, because this powerful ring was forged in the fires of evil, nothing good can ever come from its use. Every time it is used – even with the best of intentions – evil grows stronger in the land. The ring, therefore, must be destroyed in the very fires in which it was made.

Speaking hypothetically, of course, what would you do with such a ring – a ring giving you the power to become invisible? Would you disappear and hide from your responsibilities? Would you slip into the local Future Shop and slip out again unseen with a stereo or DVD player tucked under your arm? Would you be tempted to spy on your neighbour or take advantage of your competitors?

Maybe your intentions would be more altruistic – more selfless. Perhaps you would be like Robin Hood of old, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Or maybe you would have designs on doing even greater good; perhaps going to Afghanistan, invisibly locating and revealing the hiding place of Osama bin Laden or other terrorists. Think of the praise and adulation you would receive. Think of the honours that would be bestowed upon you by Presidents and Prime Ministers for making the world safe once again for democracy.

Or maybe you think you would be above such praise, doing good works only for their own sake, never thinking of the admiration or your own popularity.

The use of such a ring would be tempting indeed. It is tempting, too, for the young, four foot high Hobbit whose burden it is in the novel to carry this ring. The premise of the book is that, no matter to what good, honourable, and selfless task we would put the ring to, in the end we could not refuse the adoration that would be bestowed upon us. The focus would always return to us, and therefore, even with the best of intentions, evil would always flourish. The conflict of the novel is this: will the young Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, be able to resist this temptation long enough for the ring to be destroyed and for evil to be overcome?

* * *

Jesus faces a similar temptation in today’s gospel lesson.

But when you think about it, what could possibly be so bad about Jesus making a little bread for himself out of the abundance of stones that lay all around him near the end of his forty-day fast in the wilderness? And why shouldn’t Jesus have become Lord of all the kingdoms of the Earth when it was offered to him? My goodness, think of the centuries of war that might have been avoided if he had accepted. And why not assert his authority over the angels? Any and all doubt he might have harboured concerning his identity would have been, once and for all, erased from his mind. What could possibly have been the harm?

The harm was that succumbing to these temptations would have made Jesus and his ministry too small. He could have made himself popular, even powerful; but he would not have been the Messiah God called him to be. He would have made himself too small.

Turning a stone into a loaf of bread is too small a thing for one who is called to be living bread for the whole world.

Calling on God’s angels to save himself from a terrible fall is too small a thing for one who is called to save the whole world.

Reigning over the kingdoms of the world – over their armies, over their stock markets, over their schools and arts and entertainment – is too small a thing for one who is called to inspire the world to peace, justice, and lovingkindness.

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness was like the temptation of slipping a magical and powerful ring on one’s finger. He would have become popular. He probably could even have done much good. But it all would have been too small – way too small – and the devil would have won out in the end.

* * *

It should come as no surprise that as individuals, as a society, and as a church, we face this same temptation – this temptation for the quick fix which is, in the end, way too small a thing. What harm could one little chocolate bar do if it satisfies my hunger? What’s so bad about an extra cup of coffee if it keeps me up an extra hour to get some more work done? Think of all the homeless people who could find work if we voted in a government who could properly manage the economy allowing wealth to trickle down to the poor! Think of all the souls we could save for Jesus if we could just convince people to think and act and believe precisely as we do!

These may all be fine ideals – satisfying our hunger, getting more work done, helping the poor, and saving souls for Jesus. But can a chocolate bar really satisfy hunger? Is the eviction of the poor and homeless from public places really the solution to homelessness? Will winning the ‘War On Terrorism’ against the ‘Axis of Evil’ by virtue of the might of our armed forces mean that the battle of good versus evil will have been won? Does convincing people to believe what we believe really make them disciples of Christ?

These things are all like the magical ring that can make us invisible. They are a quick fix. They are illusory. And they are too small.

* * *

These forty days of Lent afford us the opportunity to step back for a minute and examine ourselves and our church. How often have we tried satisfying our hunger with a chocolate bar – both literally and figuratively? How often have we relied on a cup of coffee to provide our inspiration to do the work of God’s Reign instead of worship, prayer, fellowship, and learning? How often do we ask our governments to manage the economy instead of providing leadership and striving for God’s will of peace and justice? How often do we succumb to the temptation of slipping a magical ring over our finger, taking a short-cut to, and accepting the praises for something that is really too small anyway?

We are called to be children of God. There is no short-cut. There is no beautiful, magical ring. It’s not even so much about what we do as it is about who and whose we are. Accepting that path, as Jesus accepted it at his baptism and in the wilderness, isn’t easy, is never popular, and will not allow us to avoid the cross. But it is faithful. And that is how that is how the battle of good vs. evil is finally won.

Amen

Comments

2002-02-12T22:44:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Enjoy the words, enjoy the links.

Peace,
Pastor Brian

Transfiguration Sunday (A)
Sunday, February 9, 2002
Text: Matthew 17:1-9
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

It could have all both ended and begun right then and there on top of Mount Hermon – a place we know today from the news as the Golan Heights. Jesus’ transfiguration could have been the climax of his earthly career. If Hollywood had written the script, it probably would have been.

Just imagine, instead of just Peter, James, and John alone, Jesus inviting everyone with him up the mountain everyone! The twelve disciples. The women who followed him. Those he cured. Those who thought that Jesus was a reincarnation of Moses or Elijah – especially those people. The transfiguration sure would have shown them all!

Imagine Jesus inviting them all up - everyone who could make the 9000 ft. climb. And imagine Jesus being transfigured there before thousands; everyone seeing Moses and Elijah standing with him; everyone seeing his face shine like the sun and his clothes becoming more dazzling white than the mountain-top snow upon which they stood; multitudes hearing the voice from the cloud: this is my beloved son; the hearts of thousands, though filled with fear, nonetheless believing because they have seen!

Just imagine, those tents that Peter wanted to raise could have been grand cathedrals. Let the Jews and the Muslims bicker over Mount Zion, the holy place of Christians might have been Mount Hermon – the highest mountain in Israel whose snows are the source of that great and mythic River Jordan!

Who could have denied it? What clearer evidence that Jesus was the fulfillment of all the Law and the Prophets could anyone have asked for? The glory of Jesus Christ as witnessed by thousands could have been the foundation upon which the church was built. It could have both ended and all begun right then and there! It could have been the perfect Hollywood ending.

But it didn’t end or begin there. Jesus didn’t invite thousands with him up the slopes of Mount Hermon. Invited only were Peter, James, and John. Peter: who could proclaim Jesus and deny him all in the same breath. James and John: the brothers who would have the gal to ask Jesus to sit in glory at his side in his kingdom as he headed into Jerusalem. Not the sort of eye witnesses upon whose testimony is builds any sound thing.

Jesus would invite these same three to one more special place – to the Garden of Gethsemene where, on the night of his betrayal, Jesus would struggle intensely in prayer, and where he would finally come to accept the bitter cup of his crucifixion; and where he would find his closest friends – Peter, James, and John – whose support he needed now more than ever, asleep.

No, Jesus did not invite thousands with him to witness his transfiguration, and he did not ascend, transport, or in any other way disappear with Moses and Elijah into the heavenly realm. Instead, when the light show was all over, and as his friends buried their faces in the ground, Jesus touched them, comforted them in their fear, and led them back down the mountain encouraging them to tell nobody about the vision they had just witnessed. Not the sort of ending Hollywood likes to work with.

* * *

Let me put this wondrously odd story into some sort of context for you. It appears that, up to this point, Jesus’ ministry had all happened within about a 25 mile radius of the Sea of Galilee. The first half of Matthew’s gospel contains a steady rhythm of Jesus’ preaching about the kingdom of God, teaching in parables, healing the sick and driving out demons. Scholars suggest that this period of his ministry lasted 2 or 3 years. Then one day, near the city of Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asked his disciples two questions: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” and, “Who do you say that I am?”

Caesarea Philippi could have been the big time for Jesus. He had become a minor hit in the countryside, but in this metropolitan city Jesus really could have made a splash. It was probably pretty exciting for the disciples to be part of something that looked like it was going to be such a big success. But then Jesus starts asking these ridiculous questions: “Who am I? What do people think of me? What do you think of me?” It’s almost as if Jesus was having a crisis of doubt, that crisis which lasted precisely six days.

So what does he do? Like so many of us when we need a break, when the routine and everyday worries of life have gotten to be too much, Jesus surrounds himself with 3 of this closest friends and gets away from it all. What better place to revive the spiritual batteries than on a high mountain, close to God and far away from the crowds?

Now, I should point out that, as far as we know from anything in the bible, here on Mount Hermon Jesus is as far away from Jerusalem and the cross as he ever has or would ever be. Look on any map of Jesus’ travels and you will see a great deal of activity around the Sea of Galilee followed by what looks like a side trip north up to Caesarea Phillipi, and then another side trip a few miles north again to Mount Hermon. Never would Jesus be further from Jerusalem and the cross than he is right now.

But he is on a mountain. And mountains have a way of revealing things to us that everyday life seems to conceal. In all cultures of all times and places, mountains are spiritual places. Places to ask questions and wait for answers. Joan Halifax writes, “Mountains have long been a geography for pilgrimage, places where peoples have been humbled and strengthened. They are symbols of the Sacred Centre. Many have traveled to them in order to find the concentrated energy of Earth and to realize the strength of unimpeded space.”1

On this particular mountain – this “Sacred Centre” – something happens to Jesus. I’m not sure ‘transfiguration’ is the best word for it because trans-figure-ation implies that something essential in Jesus changed up there. I don’t think he changed. Rather I think that he – his true self and purpose – was ‘revealed’ both to himself and to his disciples. Thomas Long says such an experience is like standing at the edge of a lake looking into the water. “Often the glare of sunlight on the water allows only the surface to be seen. If a cloud passes overhead, however, suddenly the surface is made transparent and the depths of the lake [are] revealed. Just so,” writes Long, “the passing overhead of the divine cloud in this passage enables the disciples to see past the surface identity into the depths of the full nature of Jesus.”2

The full nature of Jesus has been revealed to the disciples, yes, but more importantly to Jesus himself. From this point on, Jesus nearly makes a B-line for Jerusalem and the cross – not ending or giving up on his teaching or healing, but doing it now in light of who he is rather than who people think he might or ought to be – doing it now in light of who he is rather than who people think he might or ought to be.

* * *

As a congregation, we’ve been doing this ministry thing here now for 41 years. During that time worship has been held regularly without fail. Prayers have been offered for the world and the sick. The Word has been preached. The Sacraments have been offered. Many people have come, encouraged by what they have experienced here, and some have left disenchanted by the same. It has been a pretty steady, consistent and – on the whole – successful ministry.

How often have we asked of ourselves: Who do people say that we are? Who do we say that we are? Who do you say that we are? Perhaps we are afraid of the answer. Maybe we’re afraid of heading up the mountain to have something revealed to us we would rather not see. Maybe we are afraid that something we love and cherish and have – quite frankly – gotten used to might come to an end.

But the mountain top is not the end. It wasn’t the end for Jesus. He did not ascend from Mount Hermon. He descended that mountain back down to earth and he headed for the cross sure of where he was going and why.

Now, I’m not sure where our mountain is, or that, when and if we found it, we wouldn’t have such a wonderful experience that we’d be tempted to pitch our tent there and remain in the glory of swelled attendance and increased revenues. Many churches have found themselves in that glory and have succumbed to the temptation. No doubt, even Jesus was tempted by such glory.

But the church wasn’t built on the ‘glory’ of Christ. It was built on his death and resurrection. Thus, we are confident because our faith is in the crucified and risen Christ and not in our own drive for success.

Who do people say that we are? Who do you say that we are? “Get up and do not be afraid.”

Amen

2002-02-04T21:45:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."

Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by myself, Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey.

These sermons are posted here for the benefit of all, but especially for my own benefit. I rely on your comments to help improve my preaching. What did you think of what was said? What worked for you and what did not? More importantly, why did it or why did it not work for you? If you had an opportunity to preach on these texts, what might you have said? Please send me your comments.

Enjoy the words, enjoy the links.

Peace,
Pastor Brian

Fourth Sunday After the Epiphany (A)
Sunday, February 03, 2002
Text: Micah 6:1-6, 1 Corinthians 10 – 18, Matthew 5:1-12
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

Some of the greatest accomplishments of humankind are great, not because of their complexity, but because of their simplicity. The harnessing of fire. The invention of the wheel. The use of the simplest tool ever invented, the lever. You know those square-head screws and screw-drivers? Well, it turns out they were an invention by a Canadian by the name of P.L. Robertson in 1908, 28 years before the invention of the American Phillips screw and screw driver. Just a small square carved into the head of a screw. So simple. Yet it improved the quality of manufacturing by leaps and bounds because the square head meant that you could twist a screw into wood or metal far more tightly than was ever possible with a slot head screw. The Robertson screw provides much more torque, and is still the industry standard almost 100 years later. It is so simple. It’s one of those things that makes you wonder, ‘why didn’t we think of it before?’

Some of the greatest figures in history are remembered for their simplicity. Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. are both remembered for their simple philosophies of peaceful, non-violent protest. Today we still have trouble believing such simple ideas can really work and so constantly resort to displays of force, but their ideas changed the world for many in the last century.

Gandhi said, “an eye for an eye leaves the world blind.” Such deep wisdom expressed in such simple words. John F. Kennedy challenged the USA when he said in his inaugural address, “ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

What makes this kind of wisdom so great is its simplicity. As soon as we hear it we say, ‘of course, I knew that all the time.’ But until it is summed up for us in a simple way, we never realized that we knew it.

Today’s scripture lessons are full of that kind of wisdom.

In the Old Testament reading we are invited into court. God has had enough with the rebellious, obnoxious, and greedy behaviour of the Israelites, and like a landlord tired of cleaning up after irresponsible tenants, God takes them to court. “Arise, and plead your case,” says God, but the people have no case; they have no excuse to make, so they throw themselves at the mercy of the court. And like our litigious society were justice is served with the payment of money, they offer to make restitution, to make things right with God again by offering their young calves and their precious oil. They even offer their first-born children, “the fruit of my body for my transgression.”

And then the prophet Micah surprises us with simple wisdom.

What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

Of course, we knew it all the time. Court is adjourned. //

* * *

Sometimes simple wisdom challenges us more deeply.

I return again to the wisdom of Mahatma Gandhi. The story is told that one day as Gandhi was boarding a train just as it was starting to roll, one of his shoes fell off and landed on the track. Unable to retrieve it, Gandhi removed his other shoe and threw it down next to the first. When asked why he would do such a thing he replied, “the poor man who finds one shoe lying on the track will now have a pair he can use.”

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek…
Blessed are those who hunger…
Blessed are the merciful…
Blessed are the pure in heart…
Blessed are the peacemakers…
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake…
Blessed are you when you are reviled and persecuted for Jesus’ sake…

These, the beatitudes, or blessings, have been cross-stitched into the hearts and minds of all Christians. Like Micah’s plea to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, we know the beatitudes. The problem, of course, is that they run so contrary to so many other things we also ‘know.’

“There is no free lunch.” We ‘know’ that.

We also ‘know’ that “a penny saved is a penny earned.”

We ‘know’ that “charity begins at home.”

And as President George Bush Jr. reminded us so eloquently in his State of the Union Address this week, we ‘know’ that “might is right.”

We ‘know’ these things to be true. We recite them as truisms. We live by them. We stake our lives on them. But how can our knowledge which tells us, “there is no free lunch,” co-exist with the knowledge Jesus has given us, “blessed are the poor in spirit, and the meek, and the hungry, for they shall be satisfied?” Which of these contrary wisdoms do we follow?

Paul asks, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has God not made foolish the wisdom of the world?”

I wish I could tell you that it’s a matter of balance. I wish I could claim that other piece of wisdom we all ‘know,’ “moderation is the key.” That would help us; that would let us off the hook. But that would be mis-leading. God’s wisdom is the world’s folly. The world’s wisdom, by God’s standard, is death.

And yet, none of us here are a Gandhi, or a Martin Luther King, or a Christ. We are the crowds to whom Jesus preached who heard him speak and then went back home and considered how they would put food on their table, only now a little bit wiser. We are like the masses who listened to Gandhi, pondered his words, and went back to their lives, a little bit stronger. We are the throngs who after be inspired by the words of Martin Luther King still had to ride home in the back of the bus, only now with the hope that it might not always be so.

The invention of the wheel wasn’t an event, it was a process of thousands of years. Robertson’s screw came about only after many failed attempts. Gandhi was a lawyer before he was a peacemaker. The choice of a wisdom like God’s – especially when it is such folly in the eyes of the world – is not an event, it is a process. It comes about slowly, even taking us by surprise. Gandhi didn’t wake up that morning with a plan to give his shoes away. One simply fell off and was irretrievable. Offering the other willingly was Gandhi’s choice for the wisdom of God.

Who knows, maybe the choice of God’s wisdom is not our to make after all. Maybe it chooses us!

Amen.

Comments

2002-01-27T16:14:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."
Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey. Today was our Annual Meeting. This always raises the tension at church just a bit, so I was searching for something to help us see beyond our own agendas and desires. I really like Robert Johnson's image of the slender threads. I was introduced to this concept in his wonderful autobiography, "Balancing Heaven and Earth" which I highly recommend.

3rd Sunday After the Epiphany (A)
Annual Meeting
Sunday, January 27, 2002
Text: Matthew 4:12:-23, Isaiah 9:1-4, 1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

“I appeal to you brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree and that there be no dissensions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and purpose.”
[1 Cor. 1:10]

Welcome to Annual Meeting Sunday! And I swear to you, I did not slyly choose this text from
1 Corinthians in order to manipulate you into making today’s meeting go smoothly. It was chosen as our lectionary text for the 3rd Sunday After the Epiphany many, many years ago by good Christian men and women much wiser than I. Am I happy that this text just happened to be chosen for today? Oh, yes! But I did not choose it by design!

* * *

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.”

With these words four individuals – Peter and Andrew, James and John – got up, left their boats, their nets, and their lives behind to follow Jesus of Nazareth. Matthew tells us nothing more about their radical, and somewhat unusual behaviour. From the tiny pieces of information we know about them, their names and the fact that they were fishers, we can make a few educated guesses about their lives. They were Jewish; we can figure that out by their names. But what else? They probably weren’t especially well educated, and thus didn’t spend a lot of time reflecting philosophically on their lives. Life and survival meant catching fish. There were no savings accounts, no RRSPs, no government pensions. Theirs was a tough life and hard. Success to them meant having a roof over their head and food in their tummies, all of which makes their decision to get up out of their boats and leave their only source of security behind them quite puzzling.

Was their choice irrational? Maybe even irresponsible? Many of you are parents. Can you imagine how Zebedee must have felt as he watched his sons get up and walk away?

Unfortunately, anything else we might say about their decision would be pure speculation. We aren’t given any other details about why they might have done what they did. As far as we know, they just got up and followed Jesus and left everything else behind.

These weren’t the only people Jesus ever called to follow him. Do you remember the rich young ruler? [Matthew 19:16-30] Jesus suggested that he sell everything he owned and follow him, something the young man apparently was unprepared to do. And then there was Zaccheaus [Luke 19:1-10], the little tax collector to whose house Jesus invited himself for lunch. By the end of that meal, Zaccheaus had returned 4 times as much as he had taken unjustly from the people.

And there were others. The sisters Mary, Martha and their brother, Lazarus who lived in the town of Bethany. Again, we know very little about them and their decision to follow Jesus, but they don’t seem to have been asked to give up their home or their lives to be Jesus’ disciples.

So the followers of Jesus were made up of men and women, rich and poor, faithful and unfaithful. Some were called to give up more than others. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their Jewish faith and their experience of Jesus Christ.

Scan ahead now 30 or 40 years to the city of Corinth hundreds of miles from Galilee where another apostle of Jesus – Paul – has begun a church. Again, these followers of Jesus are made up of men and women, rich and poor, and, as Paul’s letter to them is very quick to point out, faithful and unfaithful. But a few things have changed in that short time. No longer are all the followers of Christ Jewish. Many are converts from pagan religions. And the other thing that seems to have changed is their common experience of Jesus – in fact their experience of Jesus was becoming less and less a common thread that held them together. Other charismatic leaders were emerging who served as mediators between Christ and his followers. Apollos. Cephas. Even the apostle Paul himself was a figure with a following by different groups of Christians.

To Paul, this had become a breakdown in the faith, something he was not happy about. “Was Paul crucified for you?,” he asked. “Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?”

Well, sad to report, things have not improved much over the hundreds of years that have followed. Today we make our religious choices the same way we decide what to buy at the supermarket. We go down the aisle marked ‘religion,’ and we begin to pick things up off the shelf: Protestant; Lutheran; ELCIC; Christ Lutheran Church; Green Book; Setting Two. And that’s only scratching the surface of our religious options available to us today.

So today – Annual Meeting Day – we have to come together with all our varied ideas about what it means to be a faithful Christian in this time and place, all of our different opinions, our agendas, and our hopes, and with this we have to form some common consensus about Christ Lutheran Church and what direction we ought to steer this ship. How are we going to decide? Are we going to be like James and John, Peter and Andrew leaving our security behind to follow Jesus, or are we going to choose a safer, more rational middle-of-the-road path? And on what, exactly, should we base our choice?

Paul went on to say to the people of the Church in Corinth, “Christ [sent] me… to preach the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power. For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

A clue. A sign-post. A beacon shining in the darkness. That is the cross of Christ. And while it too may mean many things to many different people, there are some things it does not mean. It does not mean success. It does not mean popularity. And it does not mean wisdom as it is usually measured by the world.

Do we have a sense of what it means to take up our cross and follow Jesus? The gospel lesson says Jesus preached, “repent, for the Kingdom of God is near,” that he transformed fishermen into fishers for people, and that he had a ministry of healing. Noted psychologist author Robert Johnson calls things like repentance, transformation, and healing the slender threads of life. They are the Hand of God active in our lives, prodding and nudging us the right way. Johnson says, “they are the patterns that give meaning to our lives.” To four fishers 2000 years ago in Galilee, Jesus’ voice calling them was a slender thread they chose to follow, changing their lives forever.

Let’s face it, even as Christians we follow the slender threads God gives us only when it is convenient or isn’t considered too outlandish to do so. And we flounder around going from month to month and meeting to meeting with little direction, only some vague idea that we are supposed to be doing the work of the Gospel. Instead of following, we are usually struggling against God’s slender threads.

But how do we follow? Robert Johnson says this: “[In] the fruit of my old age, … [he was 76 when he wrote], I have finally come to trust the mystery. The mystery is this: there is one right thing and only one right thing to do at every moment. We can either follow or resist the slender threads.”

Irrationally, maybe even irresponsibly, James and John, Peter and Andrew chose to follow. They followed a slender thread making the right choice. May God give us the wisdom to recognize the slender threads we are given through Christ, to accept them, and together weave a tapestry with them in this place.

Amen

Please email comments

2002-01-20T13:58:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."
Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey -- usually! This week things are a little different because Sunday, January 20 marks the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, 2002. Thus, I participated in a pulpit exchange with the Rev. James Garland of St. Paul Lamoreaux Anglican Church in Scarborough. Thanks to the signing of the Waterloo Declaration last summer between the Anglican Church of Canada (ACC) and the Evangelical Lutheran Church In Canada (ELCIC), we were allowed to both preach and preside at each other's services of Eucharist. The following is what I had to say to the Anglicans.

2nd Sunday After the Epiphany (A)
Beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity
Sunday, January 20, 2002
Text: John 1:29 – 42
St. Paul L’Amoreaux Anglican Church, Scarborough, ON

At the beginning of his book, “For Christ’s Sake,” Tom Harpur tells the story of a highway in the desert. Along this highway all of humanity travels, thirsty and weary-worn. One day a fountain is discovered alongside this desert highway where pilgrims can drink, wash, and refresh themselves. Travelers soon realize that, not only is their thirst satisfied, but this fountain seems to nourish spiritual needs too, and they call it The Fountain of Living-Waters.

Harpur tells how the popularity of this fountain soon leads to disagreements among the people – disagreements about who may drink from the fountain and what manner of compensation should be paid for the cool waters. Naturally, this leads to fighting and to wars. Whenever a war is won, a stone monument is erected near the fountain by the victors. Over time, so many monuments are erected beside and over that the fountain that it eventually becomes hidden within the walls of a shrine. Men are appointed to oversee the shrine – men set apart wearing special robes with a language and rituals all their own.

No one can remember when it happened, but at some point in time the fountain was sealed up to protect its holy waters. People no longer came to drink, they just came to remember and give thanks for the gift that it once was to their ancestors. Eventually, almost everyone just stopped coming altogether. But occasionally, when all was still and very, very quiet, a few of those who still came to the stone-walled-fortress shine for rest believed they could hear the echo of running water somewhere deep below, and a tear came to their eye.

It is not difficult to recognize the church, and maybe our own lives in this story. God keeps putting up fountains in the desert, and we keep on covering them up. First there was the fountain of creation – the ordering of the waters of chaos into the gift of life. Then there was the waters of the Red Sea which meant life and birth for the people of Israel in the exodus. Then, through the prophets, God promised rivers in the wilderness which would see the exiles in Babylon home. Finally, there was the Living Water which Christ has given so that we might never thirst again, and which becomes in each of us “a spring welling up to eternal life” [John 4:14].

In our individual lives, there are the waters we passed through at birth, giving us life; the waters of baptism by which we are re-born children of God; and the waters of our planet, which nourish and sustain us and all living life.

All of these waters – from the waters over which God’s spirit moved at creation, to our own tap water – we have forgotten, discarded, covered up, polluted, or mis-used. The release of the Walkerton Inquiry Report on Friday was a reminder of what we have done – what our Premier called, “a wake-up call.”

Now, I don’t mean to imply any malicious intent on our part, or on the part of the church in general. Like the Koebel brothers, we sincerely believed we were doing our job, caring for and tending the Living Waters. We do things the way they’ve always been done in church, because ‘if it was good enough for our parents and grandparents, its good enough for us and our children.’ Our respective Anglican and Lutheran traditions have served us well throughout the generations. Of course, you have the small matter of the Residential Schools to contend with, and we Lutherans have the legacy of the Jewish Holocaust (scroll down page of link for ELCIC statement) which, because of our traditions and teachings, we must take at least some responsibility for.

But, what if we could start over? What would we do differently? What if we were given a fresh start?

Anglican, Lutheran, Roman Catholic, United, Presbyterian, together with many churches of other denominations who use the Revised Common Lectionary all shared Psalm 40 today which begins:

I waited patiently for the Lord;
whose ear was inclined to me, and God heard my cry.
God drew me up from the desolate pit,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
God put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God…

“God put a new song in my mouth…”

I don’t know about Anglicans, but Lutherans hate learning new songs. With Bach and Martin Luther himself leading the way, we have a rich and robust tradition of hymns, and many Lutherans are not happy when we stray from the path they have pioneered. It is very difficult for many of our people to even contemplate that ours is a God who puts new songs into our mouths.

But God is always doing a new thing. It’s one thing to say that God does not change, but that’s not to say that God isn’t always doing something new with us. To the servant in the passage from Isaiah God says, “It is too little a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel. I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” [Isaiah 49:6]

That’s something we almost take for granted 2500 years later, but to God’s people living in exile in Babylon, that was a radical, almost incomprehensible thought – returning the people home to Israel after 2 generations in exile was to be a little thing. The real plan was that the people should be a light to the nations that all may know of God’s love and will for life. This was something new and bold and somewhat recklessly radical.

The ultimate example of this – of newness as a characteristic of God – was to be revealed in the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. I wonder if even Jesus himself wasn’t taken back a little by the novelty of the whole thing. In John’s gospel we are given a picture of Jesus after his baptism just sort of walking around. “The next day (after his baptism) John was standing with two of his disciples; and he looked at Jesus as he walked, and said, “Behold the Lamb of God.” [John 2: 35, 36] He seems to have been just wandering around, perhaps contemplating, perhaps perplexed by what is going on.

I like to think of that time between Jesus’ baptism and his invitation to the first two disciples – a span of maybe 24 hours – as being one of those pregnant moments in time just before a decision is finally made and the world changes forever. It’s a holy time, but it’s also packed full of the ordinary. It’s real time during which people go for real walks in the snow trying to make those big decisions – to get married or not, to buy a house, to take a new job. Leaders of nations go through moments like this all the time. George W. Bush went through a couple of weeks of time like this trying to decide how to respond to the September 11 attacks. It’s an incredible time full of possibility. One wonders what was going through Jesus’ mind during that time. Could his fully human self really comprehend what incredible new thing God had planned for his life? No wonder he was just sort of walking around.

If Jesus had been caught up in the usual way of doing things – accomplishing his purpose through acts of great power and a displays of mighty force – the history of the world would have turned out quite differently. But Jesus accepted this new thing God was doing in his life, and when he was approached by these two men – just men, not soldiers or politicians or religious leaders – when he was approached by these ordinary men, his answer for them was to “come and see.” Come and see this wonderful, amazing, strange thing God is about to do in the world. God put a new song in Jesus’ mouth.

It’s hard to do a new thing, to accept new ways. The old, the traditional is comfortable. Sure, it got us this far, but following the same way day after day, year after year leaves us in a rut – and as someone once said, the only difference between a rut and a grave is the dimensions.

When discussing change one morning, a wise member of my congregation pointed out that everything the astronauts took to the moon is still sitting there exactly as they left it. Even the footprints from the moon-boots are still there as if they had just been made yesterday. “Do you know why?” he asked. I thought it must have something to do with the astro-physical properties of outer-space. But that’s not what he was talking about. “No,” he said. “It is because the moon is dead. That is why nothing changes on the moon, it is dead.”

Change is a sign of life. Newness is a characteristic of Divinity. The agreement our respective bishops signed on our behalf this past summer in Waterloo was accomplished only because we trusted God’s faithfulness to do a new thing. That doesn’t mean it comes without cost or pain. You have had to loosen your grip on what it means to be part of the historic episcopate. We have had to broaden our understanding of what it means to preach the word and administer the sacraments rightly. Some have had a great deal of trouble with this. The agreement has had a much rougher ride in the U.S. than it has here. But God is doing an new thing, and we have been open to that – thanks be to God!

Tom Harpur’s picture of the church as a mighty fortress keeping the living waters safely and forever hidden away is pretty accurate. But it’s not the last word. God’s is the last word. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth: “God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of the Son, Jesus Christ our Lord” [1 Corinthians 1:9].

Amen

Comments

2002-01-13T14:37:00.000-05:00

Welcome to "Gathered Into One."
Here you will find sermon manuscripts as preached at Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, Ontario by Pastor Brian Wilker-Frey. Christ Lutheran is a congregation of the Evangelical Lutheran Church In Canada. Have fun with the links - some really are just for fun! By the way, the link to Christ Lutheran Church works, but it is woefully out of date. Maybe if a computer savvy member reads this they'll take it on as a project?!
Enjoy.

The Baptism of Jesus (A)
Sunday, January 13, 2002
Text: Matthew 3:13-17
Christ Lutheran Church, Scarborough, ON

[Pour water into Baptismal Font]
It’s only water.

It has no colour; no odour; and not much of a taste. And there’s not really very much of it here; a litre? – maybe barely enough to water the plants in the apartment

This particular water came out of the tap – the church’s kitchen tap, to be exact, which means there is more than just water here. It also contains all those impurities and additives indigenous to the Agincourt water supply, not to mention a few deposits from the church’s 40 year old pipes.

Still, for all intents and purposes, it’s just plain old common water. We use it to cook, to clean, and to drink. We bathe in it, fish in it, and swim in it. We spend fortunes softening it, purifying it, and creating intricate systems to get it from it’s source to where we need it in our homes and businesses. We dam it up and use it’s power to generate electricity. We canoe, kayak, and take ocean cruises on it. We fear it’s destructive power when there is too much of it, and pray for it’s return when there is too little.

It’s water.

It’s just water.

Yet, at the very same time, this is precious, life-sustaining, life-giving water! It is a gift from God. And more than just meeting merely our physical needs, there is something about water that feeds us spiritually as well. The sudden spray of a great white whale. A tear running down a child’s cheek. The mists of Niagara or Kaieteur (Guyana) Falls. Fountains and springs, crashing waves and gurgling brooks. All of this has a way of touching our souls, making connections in ways we can’t even begin to understand.

In her famous book, “The Story of My Life,” (Grosset & Dunlop, pages 23 – 24) Helen Keller writes:

"After days of frustration and confusion, we walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honey-suckle with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water and my teacher (Miss Anne Sullivan) placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word ‘water,’ first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motion of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten – a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew that w-a-t-e-r meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. The living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, and set it free!"

Isn’t that wonderful? “The living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, and set it free!” Of all the substances on earth, only water, I’m sure, could do something so amazing.

As Christians we believe that God is revealed in a unique way in water. Passing through these waters in this place joins us together with creation, with humanity, with God’s chosen people, and with God’s chosen messiah, Jesus of Nazareth.

And still, amazing and wonderful though it is, it is only water.

I’d like to recall for you the words of a very old prayer, one you may have heard many times before. It was originally written by Martin Luther himself, and though it has gone through some revision over the years, it is still known as “Luther’s Flood Prayer – Sintflutgebet.”

"Holy God, might Lord, gracious Father: We give you thanks, (1)for in the beginning your spirit moved over the waters and you created heaven and earth. By the gift of water you nourish and sustain us and all living things. By (2) the waters of the flood you condemned the wicked and saved those whom you had chosen, Noah and his family. (3)You led Israel by the pillar of cloud and fire through the sea, out of slavery into the freedom of the promised land. (4) In the waters of the Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the spirit. By the baptism of his own death and resurrection your beloved Son has set us free from the bondage to sin and death, and has opened the way to the joy and freedom of everlasting life…" (LBW, page 122)

First, the waters of baptism ties us to the ancient story of creation. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void, and darkness covered the face of the deep; and God’s spirit moved over the face of the waters.” It is interesting to note that when the Hebrew bible says “the earth was a formless void,” it doesn’t mean that there was nothing. There was something. There was water everywhere! “…darkness covered the face of the deep… God’s spirit moved over the face of the waters.” [Genesis 1:1, 2]

Scientists tell us that the amount of water on the earth never changes – has never changed. At least the volume of water has never changed. It can change in form. That is, it changes constantly from a liquid to a vapour –as in evaporations; or, as we are quite familiar, on cold winter days it changes from liquid to the solid we call ice. But though it changes in form, the H2O molecules do not change. It boggles my mind to think that the same waters in which we were baptized are the very same waters over which God’s spirit moved in the beginning; the same plain old common water that we drink, cook, cleanse, and play in and upon everyday. Fredric Lehrman said, “The water which softens us as it circulates through each cell has already been down every river and slept in every ocean. The blood of the land is the river of the body.” (source: Multifaith Calendar 2001, “Water: The Spiritual Fountain”).

Next, Luther’s prayer reminds us of the story of The Flood, commonly known as “Noah and the Ark.” First the waters created and sustained life, now the waters take life away – ah, but they also save it; the ark floating on the waters, giving humanity a second chance; the rainbow rising in the clouds as a sign of God’s covenant of life. The story of The Flood is the story of God’s first act of salvation.

Then Luther reminds us of God’s next great act of salvation. “You led Israel by a pillar of cloud and fire through the sea and into the freedom of the promised land.” On the Egyptian side of the Red Sea lay the promise of slavery and death. But on the other side lay a promise of liberation and life. They passed through those waters (in the famous story of the parting of the Red Sea), the promise was made real, and Israel was born.

“In the waters of the Jordan, Jesus was baptized by John and anointed with the Holy Spirit…” This is the Gospel story for today. But, as I hope you are beginning to see, it is not so new. The story of Jesus' baptism is the same story as the Creation Story. It is the same story as the story of The Flood. And it is the same as the Exodus Story. It is even Helen Keller’s story and yours and mine. On one side of the waters there is darkness and a void – call it sin, call it slavery, call it blindness or death. But in passing through the waters is found salvation, liberation – abundant life of which Helen Keller said, it “awakened my soul, gave it light…and set it free!” Our gospel lesson tells this same story again, with the added twist that this time God passes through the waters with us. Why? “…to fulfill all righteousness,” says Jesus. [Matthew 3:15]

As Christians, we believe that the baptism of Jesus is the ultimate Creation; the ultimate Salvation first encountered in the Flood; and the ultimate Liberation first encountered in the Exodus. For in Jesus’ baptism is righteousness ultimately fulfilled.

It is no wonder that when so many pastors and priests fly to Israel for a visit to the Holy Land, they bring a bottle of water from the River Jordan – the river in which Christ’s baptism took place – back with them. And when they return to their churches, they add a few drops of water to the font each time they preside at a baptism, giving the water that ‘holy’ touch.

Their piety, I’m sure, is in the right place, but their action misses the point. Remember? This water already is the water of the River Jordan, and of the Red Sea, and of the Flood, and of Creation. And every time we pass through these same waters we participate again and again in God’s creative, saving, liberating, light-giving and life-giving act.

Water. As common as the water that flows from the bathroom faucet as we brush our teeth; as holy as the water over which God’s spirit moved at creation. The is the life-giving and liberating water of Baptism.

Amen

Comments