Jesus said, ‘But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.’
41 Peter said, ‘Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?’ 42And the Lord said, ‘Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? 43Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. 44Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions. 45But if that slave says to himself, “My master is delayed in comingâ€, and if he begins to beat the other slaves, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk, 46the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful. 47That slave who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. 48But one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.
Luke 12:39-48
Soooo slavery!
This is like the airhorn of the passage right here. It really drives home the reality that the foundational texts of our tradition were written in a world light years apart from our own. Although we know that slavery still exists, we in the West no longer accept it as a natural or desirable state of affairs.
This was not the world that Jesus lived in. Slavery was a part of life.
It might mitigate our discomfort a little to remember that there are different kinds of slavery, and our knowledge of the mindset and theology behind the Trans-Atlantic slave trade out of Africa was different from the beliefs about slavery that a lot of people in the ancient Near East encountered in their day to day lives. Although ancient kingdoms did take slaves during times of war, and did often treat them very badly indeed, there was also an established practice of bond slavery, where servitude was an attempt to pay off debt. Again, no-one was offering these slaves royal treatment – they were still viewed as property – but debt slavery was quite a different beast than chattel slavery, where slaves were not merely seen as property but believed to be literally subhuman and therefore treated not like children who are occasionally in need of discipline (as this story’s slave is treated by the master), but like animals, who possess no human emotions or intellect.
But it’s still super icky to hear Jesus talk this way, right? We know that the Bible has been used on both sides to legitimize or de-legitimize slavery, and thankfully the arc of the moral universe really did bend toward justice this time. We should be thankful that this passage makes us feel so icky, since it means that we no longer take this state of affairs for granted. But we also know that things get murky when we decide to throw out parts of the Bible we don’t like. What’s stopping us from throwing out not just the stuff that we think is bad, but perhaps the stuff that we think is hard, maybe even impossible? I don’t want to sell us short! There’s lots of stuff in there that God expects of us that may very well be impossible! The point is that in Scripture we are being called to wrestle, as Jacob did with the angel – to question and gripe and sob and laugh at these stories. If it were not so, our faith would be dead, rather than living.
So how can we make this story work for us today?
Well lucky for us there’s a piece of this story that is super weird, and that’s always a good place to enter.
So for most of the story, we hear about the master of the house, and the slaves, and how the master will come at an unexpected time. But for just one sentence, right up at the top, we have verses 39 and 40 – ‘But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.’
It seems somewhat obvious in the parable that the master is a cipher for God. But then we have this oft-repeated maxim, which pops up in other Gospels, of the Son of Man coming “like a thief in the night.†I want to delve deeper into that. Let’s make it not just a simile to express the surprising nature of Christ’s coming. Let’s make it a metaphor for how Christ will be when he returns to us.
How could Jesus possibly be like a thief? Well, in a sense, he could be said to be very much like a thief! People come to him and he steals their attention, their possessions, and their lives. He doesn’t do it by demanding, but by the sheer force of his charism and his teachings. Remember when Peter and Andrew decide to follow, they leave behind everything. In a sense, Jesus stole the part of themselves that kept them there, doing what any ordinary men of the time would do to live. In a sense, he stole their hearts, and made them his own.
He also steals possessions, convincing those who do decide to follow to give everything away, or to put them into a common purse. He sends out the disciples with almost nothing, keeping their safety net held back…and yet unlike a thief he does not then use it for his own gain, but merely asks them to do as he does.
But here’s the most intriguing, beautiful thing about Christ the thief. Remember how we talked about slaves as property? Jesus steals people too. We already said that he stole Peter and Andrew, in a sense, and many others. But stepping back into the realm of metaphor, we are given a whole new perspective on how Jesus interacts with the world.
Let us then not see God as the master who hoards his treasures, but perhaps as a false God, one who demands more than is necessary, who pushes us up Sisyphean hills, who belittles and chastens and insists that we not live into our earthiness but transcend it to be more like him. Substitute any demagogue or modern myth that you like. I won’t name names because it would just be depressing. Think of the false God that keeps you up at night wondering if you’ve done your best, not because doing your best is what all people do, but because if you don’t do your best you will not be worthy.
We all know what this god looks like, even though he looks different from person to person. In this instance the metaphor of slavery works well, because slavery is not something which comes upon a person because of moral failings. It comes upon a person when they’re down on their luck, pushed into a corner, or simply stolen away in the nighttime of despair without any warning.
This is the god whose house Christ breaks into. This is the god who awakens to find all of his possessions gone – including his slaves.
This is the god from whom we slaves are liberated. Christ also must be a thief, rather than one who pays the debt, because Christ needs us to know that this god is not worthy of time, treasure, or toil.
All of us have been made free.
And now, we stand before the table, having been made free not to then become slaves again, but to become guests at the banquet of the True God’s love.
Oh, but even more than guests. Family.
Welcome home.
Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.’ 2He said to them, ‘When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
3Â Â Â Give us each day our daily bread.
4Â Â Â And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.’
Luke 11:1-4
Think of that grownup in your life who you trusted more than anyone, and who deserved every drop of that trust. It might be a parent or a relative, or it might be a family friend.
What was the thing that they said to you that you can still hear so perfectly in your head that you can mimic the exact cadence of their voice?
For me, it’s my mum, and it’s the Lord’s Prayer.
This is how it sounded: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name.â€
It’s one of my earliest memories. I know this because I can remember hearing the words and mimicking the sounds with no real understanding of what they meant.
This was our nightly incantation. A talisman against the dark.
What was yours?
Was it words, or was it a gesture?
It’s that thing that filled you with a certain degree of awe, because it was probably one of the first things that gave you a sense of something – some piece of wisdom or some strange ritual – that was much bigger than this one person whom you trusted so deeply that they seemed close to divine.
It’s that thing that, when you got older, you recognized was not actually universal among families, and that changed things. You began to really understand that this thing was a marker of identity. It was both vastly important…and it was not shared with just anyone.
It’s something that’s so important that even the UN Declaration on the Rights of the Child mentions that children have the right to this wisdom, just as they should have the right to challenge it as they get older.
We all have more than one family. Our blood family had this wisdom, but so too do the various other social groupings in which we find ourselves. And so too does this one, where we gather today.
Jesus’ disciples knew that John had special prayers. Some of them probably crossed the floor from John to Jesus and maybe knew these special prayers. They were in a new community now. They trusted Jesus so much that they had left everything behind. Now they needed something to tie them all together.
They knew that he prayed regularly. They figured it was something he was good at. They wanted their own prayer. A talisman against a world that had become hostile.
And so we were given this gift.
We were given the words of our Beloved, which we use together in prayer.
It doesn’t sound quite the same as the one we know. There are two versions – the one in Matthew is longer than the one we just heard from the Gospel of Luke. It is not included in Mark or John, which may suggest that it formed part of the hypothetical Q document that some scholars believed contained a collection of Jesus’ sayings. The context in which the prayer is given is different in each Gospel. In Luke we heard that the disciples wanted a prayer like John’s disciples had. In Matthew, Jesus gives them this prayer while going on a rant about ostentatious prayer. This prayer is then meant to be simple and accessible.
Markers of identity usually need to be, if they are to be universally adopted.
A piece of wisdom for our family, from the one who loves us.
We know it’s a family prayer, because Jesus referred to God in Aramaic not as the rather formal “Father,†but “Abba†– Daddy. If it’s difficult for you to speak to God in this way, that was the point. Jesus came to break down walls between us.
You could say the entire journey of the universe has been our building walls and God tearing them down. In the garden, we got it. God was still “Abba.†But in the quest to receive wisdom, we built walls. God’s first response is Torah. “You don’t remember how to be with me? I’ll give you exactly what you need to know. Here, write it down.â€
We did what humans do. We ignored it, or we got so bogged down in details that we began to forget the spirit in favour of the letter.
God’s second response came to live among us. And we have his words now too. If we know nothing else about who God is, at some point at least our ancestors figured out that those words would bind us together across generations, and inserted them at the moment when God comes close to us in the Eucharistic feast.
So today, I encouraged you to put down your books at the Eucharistic prayer. You know the words – or if you don’t, let yourself lean into them as the rest of the community says them. Concentrate instead on sight. And when we speak the words of our Beloved, imagine that he is with us, as indeed he is.
In that moment, all is right. We have become again the fully trusting children of God.
And despite all other failings and all other uncertainties, that moment is worth everything.
The apostles said to the Lord, ‘Increase our faith!’ 6The Lord replied, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the seaâ€, and it would obey you.
7 ‘Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from ploughing or tending sheep in the field, “Come here at once and take your place at the table� 8Would you not rather say to him, “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink� 9Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!†’
Luke 17:5-10
“Found alone and crying in garden.â€
That was what it said at the top of our cat’s intake form from the adoption agency.
I almost cried myself when I read it! Quite a biblical statement, now that I think of it. I suppose we should have named her Magdalene! Instead we named her Kimchi, because my husband has a weird sense of humour.
She was hungry and cold and yet had clearly been cared for at some point in her life. We never found out exactly what had happened to her. If only she could speak.
It might sound cruel, but I knew we’d made the right choice when I realized that her fosters were shooing us quickly out the door because they were about to burst into tears. They both loved her, and had cared for her very well. They told us that she was friendly and loving and funny, and never caused any trouble.
For weeks she was curious and gentle, but very shy. She purred loudly and nervously everywhere she went – cats actually purr for all kinds of reasons, not just when they’re content. And over time, she began to trust us, to feel comfortable in the condo, to hop up on the bed at night, and then, one afternoon nine months in, to hop up on my chair while I was sitting in it and lie in my lap.
I could barely contain myself. I texted a picture to my husband. He texted back, “EEEEEE.â€
“Found alone and crying in garden.â€
Found, and loved. And love was returned.
What a gift it is to be taught faith by something that can’t even speak to us.
Think of the faith that your pets have, or have had, in you. The irrepressible love, the desire to be with you all the time, the complete trust. It’s what makes them so special. It’s what makes us so devastated when they leave us.
It’s hard to imagine a person having faith like my cat’s. I can’t imagine finding the ability to be so trusting in people after being abandoned like she was.
And yet what choice did she have?
“Increase our faith!†the disciples cry. And yet it’s sort of funny, because they’ve already left behind everything to follow Jesus. They already have tremendous faith. Jesus knows this; he tells them this. It’s not about planting mulberry bushes in the sea. It’s about listening and acting, which they have already done. The problem is not that they’re unequipped for the work; it’s that they’re not finished.
So many people in the church today look at the world around them, and pray for faith – faith for them, for the people they love, for the people in charge, for the people who are on the down and out. They pray and pray…and yet don’t stop and wonder who they think they’re praying to if they have such little faith!
Look around. You are already here, in this place, instead of somewhere else, on a Sunday morning, when you could be sleeping in, or doing any number of other things. You could be plying your trade or having fun with friends and not thinking about all of the work and prayer and saving grace that the world needs.
But you’re not. You’re here.
You do not have the luxury of saying, “Oh, I just wandered in here by accident.†You were called here. And God doesn’t make mistakes. God chose you.
If God chose you, then you are enough. There’s no hiding from it. God’s that frustratingly friendly, mildly annoying person that won’t listen to your excuses. There’s a good example in an episode of a TV show I like where Roger, a selfish alien, decides to marry a sadly desperate woman just so he can get an expensive appliance for free by placing it on the registry. On the day of the wedding, having picked it out from the gifts table, he tries to sneak away before the ceremony even starts, but the bride’s father catches him in the act. Roger tries to dissuade the father by admitting that he is not who he made himself out to be, but the father, who really wants to see his beloved daughter married, will not hear it.
“I’m not really an orthodontist.†“That’s okay. You can work at my greeting card company!â€
“I’m not actually Jewish.†“You’ll convert!â€
Finally, Roger, out of options, blurts, “I’m not even human!â€
The father cries happily, “Who is?â€
That’s what God is like.
That incessant. That accepting.
So, convinced you don’t have enough faith? Too bad. God has faith in you. And God is probably the most relentless, faithful force in the universe.
Like that big shaggy dog that gets so excited when you come home that it can’t help but jump on you, even though you always say no. Like my cat, who sticks her paws under the closed bedroom door in the morning because she wants us to just wake up and play with her already!
We made domestic animals that way; trained them to trust us, to live in covenant with us. This is why people get so angry when they’re abused. We can’t imagine something so vulnerable, so trusting, so open to love, being mistreated.
How much more has God made us, breathing that love into our earthy bodies at the sunrise of the world? How much more sad and angry does God feel when we are abused and mistreated, and how much more does God cry out to us to practice justice and love mercy with each other and the earth upon which we live?
There’s a reason that faith is grouped with hope and love. One could almost say that faith is like a synthesis of the two. Faith is about hope in things unseen, but it’s also about trust – think of having faith in a friend or a leader – which in its purest form is another face of love.
It’s hard to imagine having faith like my cat’s.
It’s hard to imagine having faith like Francis’, faith big enough to leave behind security, riches, and a good name, and trade it for ridicule, poverty, and pain.
And yet in doing so, he gained everything.
It seems very foolish. His father certainly thought it was. When Francis took a bolt of expensive cloth from the family shop and sold it to repair a run-down church, Francis’ father took his son to court to demand the money back. Francis insisted that God had spoken to him at the old church, saying, “Francis, Francis, fix my house.†His father didn’t care. “Pay what you owe.â€
So Francis took off all of his jewelry, and all of his clothes, and handed them to his father. He stood in the court naked, having divested himself of everything that bound him to his family. Then he left, and never returned.
There was nothing supernatural about that. Francis didn’t move mountains or plant mulberry bushes in the sea. He just listened. Not just “heard,†but “listened,†letting what he had heard and seen move him to action.
So what’s your “Francis, fix my house�
Think of it less as a command, and more as an invitation.
Friend, search for me.
Friend, let me love you.
Friend, do your work of love.
Remember, faith isn’t just for church. It must be lived in the world. God is on the move, and so are we. Every day, we are found, and every day, we are called.
It took Francis twenty years to act, but he did, and changed the world.
You have been called on a long, wonderful journey.
You’re going to have to think about how you’ll respond.
While you’re thinking about it, and before you go, come to the table, and refresh yourself for the work to come. The one who calls us does so having made a gift of himself for the work.
Come to the table. Feast on love for the work of love.
One of my favourite websites to visit is Cracked.com. It’s mostly a comedy website, but within the last five years or so it has also been branching out into what it calls “personal experience†articles, which are just what they sound like: they solicit interviews from folks on an online forum – folks who have had strange jobs or uncommon experiences. Some of them are funny, some of them are very weird, some of them are heartbreaking, and some of them are inspiring.
One of them is called “5 Things I Learned as a Neo-Nazi,†composed by one of the Cracked staff writers and the subject, Frank Meeink. In it, Frank tells the story of his time as a racist skinhead, beginning with his recruitment when he was just a teen, and ending with his reformation after time in prison and a beautiful relationship with a Jewish man who hired him to do odd jobs.
One insight from Frank was really interesting. He describes a terrible upbringing, a feeling of constant fear and worthlessness, which the men who recruited him recognized and exploited by introducing him to random acts of violence, at first without any racial element. He describes the fear on the face of a man they attacked, and how big it made him feel. He describes how that was really how they hooked people, and the racism came later, at first couched in positive language of heritage and white pride. However, he soon discovered that although the recruitment began with an invitation to feel proud of who they were, once the kids were in, he said, “We never talked ourselves up, never tried to feel better about ourselves. It was all focused on other people. Probably because the only people we hated more than everyone else was us.â€
Take a moment to ponder the tragedy of that statement. “The only people we hated more than everyone else was us.†Hate your neighbour as you hate yourself.
Frank continues, “The driving power behind these movements is fear: fear of inadequacy, fear of being forgotten, fear of not mattering. And as hard as we tried to scare people, no one was ever more scared than we were. Hate is just repackaged fear[.]â€
This is what was on my mind when I read today’s passage. Here’s Matthew, the tax collector – reviled, condemned, abused. According to Wikipedia, “The right to collect taxes for a particular region would be auctioned every few years for a value that (in theory) approximated the tax available for collection in that region. The payment to Rome was treated as a loan and the publicani (the tax collectors) would receive interest on their payment at the end of the collection period. In addition, any excess (over their bid) tax collected would be pure profit for the publicani. The principal risk to the publicani was that the tax collected would be less than the sum bid.â€
You can imagine that these fellows would be very interested in collecting as much as possible.
This is the job that Matthew finds himself in when he meets Jesus.
We aren’t given any circumstances for how he got himself into that line of work. He would have been a man of means from a family of means, since a tax collector needed to be literate and would have to have contacts and funds to apply for the bid.
In short, he was not a victim. He chose this. He chose to spend his time wrangling money out of people, many of whom couldn’t afford it. We don’t know why. We don’t know anything else about him. He’s a blank slate – like the skinhead you’d want to cross the street to avoid. There he is at his little booth, probably dodging rocks.
And what does Jesus say to him?
“Follow me.â€
That’s it.
No finger-wagging, no yelling, no cold turn of the head as though he can’t even see something so profane.
Just, “Follow me.†And Matthew does it.
And then invites him over and throws a party with all of the disciples.
I imagine that the Pharisees were feeling a little like the prodigal son’s brother at this point. “Are you serious?†I imagine them saying. “You’re going to get into fights with us, the keepers of the law, but you’re going to eat and drink wine with these degenerates?â€
Jesus is typically witty here. “I didn’t come for the healthy, I came for the sick.â€
This isn’t just a throwaway line. There are two separate collections of three healings by Jesus before and after this story, along with other instances of disciples being called. Finally, in the chapter immediately following this, Jesus sends out the Twelve to do some healing of their own.
This is the beauty of the one we call beloved.
It’s one thing to cure someone of their physical illness. It’s something else entirely to heal someone’s heart.
Matthew went from squeezing people dry to feeding strangers in his home.
What could he teach us about how to live our faith? Who do we know in our world that are sick, sick with hate and fear and a sense of worthlessness?
“The only people we hated more than everyone else was us.â€
If you don’t know anyone like that, you can still search for and confront that attitude. It exists everywhere – in the persistent narratives of revenge that fuel many of our systems, in the reliance on bootstrap policy over compassion, in the tiny passive-aggressive jabs that are so much easier but much more damaging in the long run than having difficult conversations between us and the people we like and dislike.
There’s a lovely saying, “You might be the only Jesus that people ever see.†I’ve seen every single one of you do it. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. Matthew knew it. That was why he wanted to celebrate when he discovered this new way.
So celebrate with me, right now. You were called, some of you before you could even speak, before you could even walk. It takes all kinds.
What a gift.
Celebrate with me…then go out into the world and find a frightened other to invite back to our house.
Disclaimer: The thoughts and opinions that follow are entirely my own, and not an official position of any particular institution.
In July, the Pew Research Forum conducted a study which showed 78% of white evangelicals planned to vote for Trump.
I really believe that these people are hurting their church.
Hillary Clinton, whatever you think of her, is a lifelong devoted Methodist. She has been involved in the United Methodist Church her whole life, and many of her social policies as First Lady were directed toward “the least of these”: children, teens aging out of foster care, people with disabilities, the poor, and battered women. She has also been subject to the kind of intense scrutiny and scorn that is shocking to some while totally expected by most women in positions of power, and has borne it with great poise and dignity, as befits a truly exemplary Christian.
(And need I remind you that she also did this while her husband was going through charges of infidelity on the public stage?)
Her faith is steady and reserved, in line with what Jesus talks about in Matthew, Chapter 6. She doesn’t talk about it much publicly. I believe this is not a sign of cowardice, but respect for others of different creeds. But an oft-repeated maxim of hers is, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can,” which is a quote attributed to John Wesley, one of the founders of Methodism.
In the meantime, she is standing up against a Cheeto-faced cocktail sausage-fingered hobgoblin who has no sense of mercy, no sense of humility, and openly states that he doesn’t see any need to ask for forgiveness from God. He is narcissistic, violent, foul-mouthed, greedy, licentious, and idolatrous. He should be everything you despise, and yet you celebrate him – and not only that, but some of you write shriekingly terrified articles about Obama or Clinton being the anti-Christ.
If anyone living today could ever actually claim that label, I swear it would be Donald Trump.
One bad mood as president and he would destroy the world.
I can’t fathom how you could claim that you are the only ones who actually give any reverence and glory to Jesus, but spit on everything he stood for by supporting this dangerous clown.
I can’t fathom how you could claim the right to call the world to repentance, but put your support and your money and your future vote behind this absolute disaster of a candidate.
You should be ashamed of yourselves.
I pray that you will come into true repentance, and back a candidate who actually has a track record in living her faith.
I referenced both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament readings for the day in this piece. They are here and here.
I’ll always remember my Hebrew Bible professor Dr. Pat Dutcher-Walls’ classes on the prophetic books, which were a specialty of hers. Today’s passage from Jeremiah reminded me of a particularly amazing experience in which Pat decided to illustrate prophetic actions, some of the strange things prophets did as forms of performance art, if you like. These actions were believed to be concrete manifestations of the truths God was trying to convey through the vessel of the prophet.
And so my Hebrew Bible class found itself outside one rainy January morning in the VST parking lot, listening to Pat read from the prophet Jeremiah in Chapter 19, the chapter which immediately follows the one from which we just read. In this chapter God proclaims devastation on the people of Jerusalem, who have strayed from the law and the will of God. To illustrate their wanton separation, God tells Jeremiah to take a pottery jug and smash it on the ground.
This is what Pat did, hurling a thrift store pottery pitcher to the pavement, where it shattered.
I was struck by how the atmosphere changed. Before we had begun, we had been a little giddy, laughing and smiling at how much fun this class was and how creative Pat’s methods were. But when that pitcher shattered, with a sound of great drama and finality, we were all rendered silent and incredibly moved.
It was beautiful, but also quite disturbing. We began to understand how powerful a simple act of protest can be.
You could say it was the “Hands up, don’t shoot†of the ancient world, a concrete marker of a deep injustice that had put us out of sorts with all created order.
Our St. Philip’s community has a consistency in its sense of justice and beliefs about what the reign of God looks like. When we are together, we have a shared vision of the truths that God wants our community to proclaim and enact. We can cheer each other on and support each other in this work, perceiving all the good we do for Christ within and without these walls. And we are very lucky to live in a city where, for the most part, the overall shape of that vision – care for the poor, responsible stewardship of the earth, support for refugees – is valued, if not always enacted, by the vast majority of the people living here. This is a beautiful thing, a manifestation of the in-breaking Kingdom of God among us, which is often seen in fleeting glimpses, at the corner of the eye. All of us should uphold these values at all costs, all the time.
However, we have to admit that, for us, in this time and this place, working to make this vision a reality might be said to often carry a low degree of risk.
Part of what made Jeremiah’s action risky – remember he got thrown into a well for his pronouncements – is that he wasn’t proclaiming to a group of like-minded people. He was not like Amos or John the Baptizer, speaking on the outskirts of society. Jeremiah walked in the halls of the powerful. He spoke to kings and rulers. What’s more, he was not the only prophet. There were other prophets in the courts, and many of them proclaimed exactly what the king wanted to hear. When there is a division of opinion among those who claim to speak for God, who do the powerful so often listen to? The ones who tell them that everything is fine, and God is happy with their actions, or the one who proclaims a potter God who will rework the vessel until it is useful again?
All of us know what it feels like to take risks. It starts early and ends late.
“Do I share these cookies with this other kid even though that means less for me?â€
“Do I stand up to this bully even when they’re not bullying me?â€
“Do I tell my friends I don’t think doing this is a good idea, even if they’re all doing it?â€
“Do I take this job even though I’m not sure it’s going to take me where I want to go in life?â€
“Do I raise the ethical concerns I have in this situation to my boss?â€
“Do I say ‘I do’ to this person even though I don’t know what the future holds?â€
“Do I make choices for my young child not knowing if they’re going to be choices the child will uphold as they grow?â€
“Do I tell my teen I don’t want her to hang out with those kids even though I’m sure they could use a friend who’s a good influence?â€
“Do I tell my adult child that I’m not feeling as capable as I used to be and need more help, even though I know he’s working full time and has young children and a million other things to worry about?â€
These are some of the risks incurred in an ordinary life. And then there are the extraordinary risks we take every day that many of us could just as easily shrug off.
When you finally decide to ruin the dinner party by saying you don’t appreciate the nasty things someone is saying. When you finally decide to come out of the closet. When you finally decide to say, “This isn’t working. I want a divorce.†When you finally decide to say, “I love you, but I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.†When you finally decide to say, “I can’t work for a company that supports this kind of action.†When you finally decide to say, “I will not condone the actions of my nation in this matter, I will denounce them.†When you finally decide to say, “I believe that God is calling us to be better than this.â€
When you decide to say, “I want to follow Jesus.â€
This is the level of risk you take when you are a baptized member of the Body of Christ. This is the true cost of discipleship.
Jesus’ words sound terribly harsh. “Whoever does not hate their family and life itself cannot be my disciple.†I really don’t think he meant that we should go about being dour and nasty all the time. That was not the life he lived. He ate and drank with outcasts and sinners. He laughed and cried and healed and loved and spoke out against injustice and corrected people in love. Miseó, the Greek word that is translated “hate†in this passage carries a comparative connotation. It’s about putting God first rather than loving nothing and no-one else.
If it were not so, Jesus would not have elevated the commandment “Love your neighbour as yourself†alongside “Love the Lord your God.â€
Following Jesus is about taking a risk.
Tomorrow is Labour Day, and after that, a whole new year begins. This year at St. Philip’s, as we continue in our work and discernment to find a new rector, we are also working toward a year of revival and engagement. This revival will give you and your family many chances to take the risk. I’ll share just a few of them.
Next Sunday will be our official Back to Church Sunday. Take a risk by inviting a friend who has never been.
The Sunday after, September 18th, will be the day that our Bishop Melissa visits us. Take a risk by staying after to hear from her and speak to her in person about your faith and your dreams for the church.
Wednesday evenings at 8pm we have begun a new service here at St. Philip’s called Alt Vespers. It’s a service of Evening Prayer that is contemplative, casual, and concise, and is done in a very different style than what we experience on Sunday mornings here. Take a risk by coming one night and seeing what it’s about.
The clergy team will begin a brand new program geared toward deepening our faith and commitments to Christ’s work in the church. It be intergenerational and may prepare you for baptism, confirmation, reaffirmation – any public statement of commitment to Christ that appeals to you. I don’t have all of the details yet but they will be available within the next couple of weeks. Take a risk by signing up or dropping in.
Finally, take a risk by coming forward today, to this table. It doesn’t look risky, but actually it’s the greatest risk of all. Coming forward means taking the risk of proclaiming that God really does come to see us face-to-face, that God really does willingly break open in order to nourish us for the work of the Kingdom, that God really does reconcile all things in Christ – that God really is.
Take the risk, friends.
It’s worth it.
Someone in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’ But he said to him, ‘Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?’ And he said to them, ‘Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.’ Then he told them a parable: ‘The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?†Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.†But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?†So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.’
Luke 12:13-21
On the 4th of July, NASA space probe Juno entered the orbit of the planet Jupiter. Juno was launched on August 5th, 2011 and now that it has reached its destination it will begin a 20 month mission of collecting scientific data, which will include Jupiter’s composition, gravity field, magnetic field, and polar magnetosphere, and try to understand the history and inner workings of the planet, particularly its deep winds, which can reach speeds of 618 kilometers per hour.
Juno is the second spacecraft to orbit Jupiter and the first one which is solar powered. According to the NASA mission pages, it was given the name Juno because “the god Jupiter drew a veil of clouds around himself to hide his mischief, but his wife, the goddess Juno, was able to peer through the clouds and see Jupiter’s true nature.â€
I share this with you not only because it gives us a glimpse of the glory of God’s world, but because of a rather haunting truth. Once Juno has reached the end of its twenty months, it will begin a descent into the heavily irradiated atmosphere of Jupiter, where it will burn up and disintegrate.
This, we are told, is necessary in order to protect Jupiter’s moons, which Juno could easily crash into if it is not destroyed. This is important because Jupiter’s icy moon, Europa, is thought to contain a water ocean beneath its smooth surface, which could contain extra-terrestrial life.
I found that fact oddly moving when I learned it. Juno may be a tangle of electronics, but the commitment to knowledge has been programmed to be of greater value than one life, however mechanical it may be.
Juno’s kenotic, self-emptying mission seems a fitting parable for our age of acquisition, hatred, and greed.
Greed. It’s everywhere. Like a ravenous black hole it swallows up what it does not currently possess, but only grows bigger. It’s something everyone struggles with. I believe its core lies in simple self-preservation, the ultimately wise desire to set aside enough for potentially lean times ahead. I think its true insidiousness is its tendency to outshout perspective. Eventually, once someone has acquired enough to be secure, it stops being about self-care. It starts being about addiction, about fear, about the irrational but deeply human belief that if someone else has something, I must be lacking, and therefore the only way to have everything I need is for someone else to be lacking.
Better them than me, right?
I believe this flawed logic is behind not only the breathless acquisition and desire for goods, but every backlash movement by the privileged against those who fight for their rights. As Brian Sims, the first openly gay person elected to the Pennsylvania General Assembly said, “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.â€
Pride 2014. Photo from Mary Ann Saunders
Ask one of the boys I went to high school with, the one who sincerely wondered why straight people didn’t have their own pride parade alongside Vancouver’s Pride Parade, which will take place today: Is it really oppression to not have a parade when you can walk down the street holding someone’s hand and guarantee that no-one will punch or push or stab you for doing that? When you can guarantee that, if you marry, you and your spouse will be fully embraced – say, permitted to be present in family photographs, or named in obituaries as loving survivors, unlike some of my LGBTQ friends who in those instances have been commanded by their families to appear single or not at all.
We know the answers to those questions. But so often we do not even know the privilege that we carry with us. What drives this need for more, when we have so much?
Greed.
Here’s another question: Is this really the battle people should be fighting? Or might Jesus prefer us to fight the battle against the violence, hatred, and intolerance directed against ordinary people – people’s children, siblings, friends, and lovers – who just want to walk down the street holding hands like everyone else?
We all have our precious things.
It’s not bad to have precious things. It’s not bad to want precious things. All human beings crave security and meaning. Precious things have meaning. When they are safe we feel secure. But when we feel threatened, when we feel afraid, it is so tempting to build up our walls and tighten our gates.
“I will pull down my barns and build larger ones.â€
“I will destroy what has served me well in order to make room for more, because I deserve the gifts God gives me, and therefore they are mine to hoard away. There is no one for me to share them with, so they are all mine. Clearly I must have done something right to acquire all of this wealth.â€
Maybe so. But maybe it was just a good harvest. Note that the text does not say that the abundance of the land came from any work that the rich man did. He is referred to almost passively – it is the land which has done the work of production, and of course, God, for those who heard this parable believed that God was responsible for good and bad harvests. And yet before the man even does the things he says he will do, God warns him about the foolishness of these acts. Why would God allow the land to produce so abundantly when surely God knew that this man was going to die, and seemingly alone and childless, since God asks who all of the goods are going to belong to?
Was this a test, I wonder?
If so, how could this man have passed?
Obviously not by doing what he planned to do. So what else could he have done?
Perhaps he could have shared in his wealth. Filled his old storehouses, used them for their intended purpose, and then given away the rest of the harvest.
Oh, but how reckless. We are so often taught to hoard the extra to stay safe. Who knows what will happen to it? What if it’s wasted?
Ah, friends, our Beloved tells us: life does not consist in abundance of possessions. And neither does one’s security. Anyone can lose anything at any time. We know this. Our security also does not consist of another’s lacking.
Here’s the beautiful thing. If this man had spread his wealth, if he had acted recklessly, we cannot say how far it would have gone. And we therefore cannot say that if he then had had a lean year, a bad harvest, those whom he enriched would not then care for him. We cannot say that those who were cared for would not then love him, would not mourn him at his end.
This lesson comes to us through more than a parable. Jesus acted recklessly. Jesus gave up his entire life for those who betrayed and reviled him. How much more will he give to those who put their complete trust in him.
Beloved, your life does not consist in abundance of possessions. I know you know this already. But let me say it not to somehow try to purge greed – something I am just as guilty of as anybody – but to stand against the voices of the world that tell us that we will never be happy, healthy, or whole, if we do not surrender ourselves to the gods of acquisition.
Your life does not consist in abundance of possessions, or riches, or beauty, or intelligence, or ability, or strength.
Your life is for more than those things. Your life is for faith, hope, and love.
You are here by love for love.
Love is the only thing that can break that fear of “not enough.â€
Surrender the need to be perfect, the need to be better than the people around you, the need to be other than who you are.
That need is a shackle. You did not ask for it, so it doesn’t belong to you. Feel free to lay it down.
There’s a place for all of it, right there, before the table of your Beloved.
Lay it there, and receive a far greater treasure.
Jesus said, “‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”
Matthew 13:44-46
Today is all about parables, so I brought this parable box from our Godly Play set. This is how we teach the children at St. Philip’s about parables.
A parable box. Source: godlyplayresources.com
There are three main types of Godly Play stories. Each one has a script that should be followed as closely as possible, and each of the types of stories have specific features. There are Sacred Stories, Liturgical Action Stories, and Parables. The materials used say something about each story. Sacred Stories, which come from the narratives of Holy Scripture, often use upright and faceless figures to ground the children in the physical world, to remind them of the historical nature of the stories we tell.
Parables are different. They are presented with figures and objects that are flat with specifically drawn features to encourage the children to see them as stories told by Jesus rather than as living people. All parables in the Godly Play curriculum are presented in these boxes.
Why? I will show you, using the same words we use with the children.
“Hmmmm. What could this be? It is a box. I wonder if there could be a parable inside.
This box looks old. Parables are old. They are thousands of years old.
You know, this box also looks like a present. Parables are like presents. They were given to you before you were born.
This box is also the colour gold. Gold is valuable. Parables are also very valuable, maybe even more valuable than gold. There might be a parable inside.
And look, this box has a lid. It’s like a door that is shut. That is also like a parable. Sometimes it can be hard to open. If it is hard to open, don’t be discouraged. Come back to it again and again, and one day, it may open to you.â€
What follows this exploration is further exploration. Parables always have an underlay, usually a piece of felt. Depending on which parable, the felt is a different colour. We wonder with the children about what the underlay could really be. The underlay for the parable of the mustardseed looks kind of like a big yellow lemon. The one for the Sower is a long brown rectangle which usually looks like a chocolate bar to the children. The one for the Good Samaritan is a rough piece of brown burlap.
This parable box actually contains the Parable of the Great Pearl. Here is the underlay. The story is presented on top of it. The children are shown the merchant and the man who sells him the Great Pearl. It shows the journey of the merchant, searching and inspecting many pearls before finding the Great Pearl. When he inspects the other pearls, the storyteller should shake her head sadly, until the merchant comes to the right one, and the storyteller can finally nod.
The Parable of the Great Pearl. Source: godlyplayblog.blogspot.com
The two men are placed inside rectangles of felt which likely symbolize houses. The merchant’s house is stuffed full with objects that he has purchased. The storyteller shows the merchant exchanging each of his household objects in three separate groups. Once again, she should shake her head at each offering: it is not enough. Finally, the merchant brings his bed and the house itself – the storyteller rolls up the rectangle of felt and presents it to the man at the table. Finally, the nod appears again, and the merchant is left with nothing except the pearl.
This is the end of the story. The children are asked the following wondering questions.
Today, they are my questions to you. I invite you to share whatever comes to your mind, and like we do with the children, I will repeat what I hear. We only repeat, without judgement. This is how we show the children that their opinions and beliefs about Scripture are valued and important. Sometimes it’s good to remind our big brothers and sisters in Christ of this truth too.
So, I wonder…
“I wonder if the person is happy with the great pearl.
I wonder what the merchant will do now.
I wonder why the seller would give up something as precious as the great pearl.
I wonder if the seller is happy with all his new things.
I wonder if the seller has a name.
I wonder if the merchant has a name.
I wonder what the great pearl could really be.
I wonder what could be so precious that you would be willing to exchange everything you have to get it.
I wonder if you’ve ever come close to the great pearl.
I wonder where this could really be.”
Once we have asked these questions, we tell the children that it is time for their work. Their work is to respond creatively to the story in some way. They can make art, retell the story with the pieces, or in our classes meet together and talk.
Of course we too have holy work to do. That is what we are leading them to understand.
So let us continue on with our holy work, and I will close with the words of our big brother in Christ, St. Augustine.
“Let us search for that which needs to be discovered, and into that which has been discovered. He whom we need to discover is concealed, in order to be sought after; and when found, is infinite, in order still to be the object of our search. … [H]ere let us always be seeking, and let our reward in finding put no end to our searching.â€
 At that time Jesus said, ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
Matthew 11:25-27
Ten years ago, documentary filmmakers Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing released the film Jesus Camp. Jesus Camp is a film about a group of Charismatic Pentecostal children who are being trained up for Christian spiritual warfare by a children’s pastor, Becky Fischer, both at a Prayer Conference and at the titular camp “Kids on Fire,†ironically situated in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota. It’s a fascinating and remarkably even-handed look at American evangelicalism.
I watched it again recently and was surprised how differently I reacted to it this time as opposed to the first time I saw it about eight years ago. Many viewers were so distressed by what they saw that the camp actually had to be closed down due to protest and vandalism. Accusations of indoctrination and spiritual abuse dogged Pastor Becky after the film’s release.
Some of these accusations were well-founded. There’s nothing quite like watching a room full of children breaking down in tears after being told that their pastor knows that some of them are “phonies†and “hypocrites†for saying dirty words at school or having trouble believing in God. There’s nothing quite like watching Tory, a ten-year-old girl, dancing to Christian rock in her bedroom and following it up with, “When I dance, I really have to make sure that that’s God, because people will notice when I’m just dancing for the flesh, and I really need to get over that.â€
The second time I watched it, though, I was really struck by her next sentence, which was, “I’m not the only one. People out there, you’re not the only one who makes that mistake.â€
I was impressed at what I saw as a sign of spiritual caregiving. This was a ten-year-old girl, offering up spiritual advice and love to others who struggle.
Prayer and worship in this tradition was something else in the film that at first made me uncomfortable. Pentecostal prayer is a loud and emotional affair. There is a lot of waving of hands, a lot of swaying and spontaneous vocalizations. The children are taught to pray in tongues and are slain in the spirit. It’s all a bit overwhelming for this stodgy Anglican – and if you think I’m not stodgy, you’ve never seen me in an evangelical church. I am unable to extract myself from this position: straight as a rod, hands welded to the pew in front of me, looking either straight ahead or down at my feet. I was raised with surplices, incense, and ruffled collars, so I’ll clap during Gospel songs but that’s about it.
Tory
What made me think of all of this, though, was one scene which directly relates to our reading today. At the camp during worship, there is a time for the children to offer testimony. Tory the dancer is overcome with sobs. The viewer hears an adult voice murmuring, “Pray it out, Tory, pray it out.†She takes a handheld microphone and, still sobbing, prays that the Lord will break the chains over their nation, raises her fist, and proclaims the lion of Judah over all.
This prayer, which the adults refer to as a prophecy, is accompanied by loud applause and cheers.
It’s a really weird scene. It’s kind of icky…and it’s kind of beautiful.
“I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.†This section is text was referred to by Canon F.W. Green as “the ecstasy of Jesus.†Today’s reading is quite an old passage. It is echoed in the Gospel of Luke, which means it could be from the elusive and hypothetical Q document from which many scholars believe Matthew, Luke, and the Gospel of Thomas shared content. It may indeed have been a repurposed prophetic utterance from an early Christian community, which were common in the Apostle Paul’s time.
We may not share the same worship traditions as our Pentecostal brothers and sisters, but I pray that we share the same conviction. The people in the film take for granted that those who are seen as small in the eyes of the world are precious to God. They take for granted that those who are seen as of little account will in fact be the ones to usher in the new kingdom of God. What they believe it looks like is also radically different from the kingdom which we proclaim.
We live in a world that is marked by violence and intolerance. Our church is still struggling to understand what it means to follow the cross and give our lives to Christ in this time. It is not easy work, but we must trust. There is little worth doing for the sake of the Gospel that is easy. But our Gospel is the Gospel of love. Our Gospel is the Gospel of hospitality and acceptance. Our Gospel is the Gospel of endless loaves and fish, the Gospel of true strength found in perfect weakness, the Gospel of wealth through kenosis, through pouring out our lives for the sake of the other. Sometimes our Gospel is the Gospel of metanoia, of repentance and transformation, admitting that what we once thought was God’s will was our own.
That is probably the most beautiful Gospel of all, because the resurrection is probably the biggest metanoia of all.
Friends, as we continue our lives in the church, let us never forget what has been revealed to us by the Beloved: no less than God, veiled in flesh once for all, and today clothed in bread and wine, an outward sign of that inward grace. Let us come together here to be baptized with the fire of love.
Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.†Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’
Luke 11:25-37
This week, across the country in Richmond Hill, Ontario, Anglicans from all over Canada are meeting for General Synod 2016. Perhaps the most anticipated business of the day is the motion currently on the floor which proposes a change to the marriage canon allowing same-sex marriage to be fully celebrated within the Anglican Church, as opposed to the current system which demands civil marriage before allowing same-sex unions to be blessed.
Yesterday morning, Archbishop Josiah Atkins Idowu-Fearon, Secretary-General of the Anglican Consultative Council, spoke with gentleness and respect to those gathered to discuss changes to the marriage canon. Archbishop Idowu-Fearon, a Nigerian, served as Bishop in two Dioceses in the Church of Nigeria, and Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical province of Kaduna. He is best known for his award-winning bridge-building work in Christian-Muslim dialogue and his sharp intellect, work that has gotten him in trouble with many of his more conservative colleagues in the Nigerian Church.
Although he opposes both same-sex marriage and same-sex unions as counter to Christian teaching, Archbishop Idowu-Fearon also opposes criminalization of homosexuality in his home country, and has on multiple occasions sought dialogue and understanding with those who have different beliefs about human sexuality.
What does this have to do with today’s parable? Everything.
It’s a tough parable to preach on! We all know it so well. Our children know it, our teens know it, even our friends who know nothing about the church at least know the hero, and even if they don’t know the story, they know the message. A man in need makes a friend indeed.
Except not really, because as far as we know the Samaritan never even speaks to him. We don’t know if he ever regains consciousness. He is a blank slate. Even the way he is referred to in the Greek suggests that. Anthropos tis, a certain man – or, as one writer suggested, “some guy.†We know nothing about who he is, what he looks like, or why he’s going to Jericho from Jerusalem. People familiar with the area tell us that the road was dangerous, and it runs downhill.
As they seek to discover new angles on this story, many writers break down the individual acts of kindness that the Samaritan performs. He comes near the man, rather than passing to the other side. He sees the man. He’s moved with pity, or has compassion. He goes to him and pours oil and wine on the man’s wounds, and bandages them. Then he puts him on his own animal and carries him to an inn and takes care of him. Then he leaves two days’ wages with the innkeeper, and promises to give more if necessary.
Each one of these acts could be a sermon in itself. With that in mind, let’s talk a little bit about oil and wine.
Why would the Samaritan pour oil and wine on the man’s wounds? Well, oil and wine were practical elements in healing in the ancient Near East. Olive oil was used as a painkiller, a soothing unguent for cuts and bruises. Wine, of course, could be used as an antiseptic. All kinds of accidents could happen on a journey like this, especially before cars, so this was all part of the Samaritan’s first aid kit.
But we know that oil and wine have theological significance in our tradition as well. We know that olive oil played and still plays a huge part in the lives of Mediterranean people. It was a staple of the diet. People used it to light their lamps. They anointed themselves with it after baths and during festivals. It was tithed and a part of first fruit and meal offerings in the temple. Priests and kings were consecrated with it. Lepers were anointed with it. Its presence indicated gladness; its absence sorrow and humiliation.
Wine is first mentioned in the Hebrew Bible in connection with Noah, who plants a vineyard after entering into covenant with God. Jacob promises his son Judah vineyards and a bounty of wine as a blessing. Vineyards are a sign of God’s blessing in the prophetic literature as well, symbolizing the promise of restoration. And of course, Jesus’ first sign in the Gospel of John is turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana, which John understands as a fulfillment of First Testament prophecy.
Oil and wine together are quite common in the First Testament. They are regularly included as part of the lavish gifts exchanged between kings. They are also a sign in the Prophet Joel’s writings of a mended relationship between God and humankind.
The Samaritan is a hero to us for good reason. Unlike the other two supposedly righteous men he walks toward a risky situation and does what he can to provide this poor soul with the physical healing and care that he needs.
So should we all.
But the truth about oil and wine shows us that it’s even more beautiful and subversive than that.
Most people know that Samaritans and Jews didn’t get along back then. That’s an understatement. They hated each other. Jews and Samaritans both worshiped the God of Israel, but in different places. The Jews believed, in fact, that the Samaritans had been severely punished by God for worshiping in the “high places.†They were believed to be an unclean idolatrous people who did not believe in Jerusalem’s status as the holy city, God’s dwelling place. Their beliefs made them reviled outcasts.
We are often more critical of those who are close to us.
We know this, in this Diocese. We know this, in the Anglican Church of Canada.
Think of the kind of Christian you can’t stand to be around, whatever they look like. This is still someone who loves, lives, and laughs with family and friends, who has known pain and loss and joy, who has hurt others and been hurt, just like all of us. This is still someone who has come to an understanding of the world through experience, observation, and assumption, just like us; someone who is also probably far more complicated and full of grace than we would ever like to think possible.
This person comes to us on the road, bearing signs of restored community, not for hoarding or for self-aggrandizing, but for performing the work of the kingdom. The signs of spiritual wealth, abundance, and healing. The signs of God.
Tools of restoration are always best in the hands of the one with whom covenant is broken. Not absent – broken. It’s one thing to recognize God in the eyes of a stranger. It’s another to recognize God in the eyes of an enemy.
Archbishop Idowu-Fearon opened his speech at General Synod with prayer: “Lord Jesus, who prayed that we might all be one.†He praised our Primate’s leadership and the Canadian document “This Holy Estate,†which discusses the issue of same-sex marriage in the Anglican Church of Canada. He said, “We [Anglicans] almost came apart on the issue. But we did not.†He affirmed the Anglican Consultative Council’s desire to walk with us together.
Here before us, reaching across the road, is one Good Samaritan, bearing the tools of gentle speech, openness, trust, and the holy symbols of our faith.
Over the last decade we have not had the best relationship with all of our Anglican family, particularly the Diocese of Nigeria. It is true that many lay and ordained leaders there have reacted with fear and anger over the changes in the worldwide Communion, declaring that our Diocese specifically was in a state of impaired Communion. It is true there have been violence and threats leveled against primates and bishops who disagree. It may be true that we will never be able to fully reconcile on this issue.
But here before us is a neighbour, extending a hand.
This is not someone like us – and yet, of course it is. Because this is a brother in Christ, bearing the bread of communion and the wine of healing so that we may be one.
And as he stands on the other side of the space between us, Jesus speaks to us from far up ahead, on a road like the one from Jerusalem to Jericho, dangerous, downhill, heading to the cross:
“Go and do likewise.â€
And so I invite you to pray with me.
“Lord Jesus, who prayed that we might all be one, we ask you to bless the work of General Synod 2016. Send down your Holy Spirit to sow seeds of justice and love among all of our friends and family in Christ, help them to be gentle with each other, and keep them safe as they travel. In your name we pray. Amen.â€
