Sermons & Notes

Sermon - Abundant Life - Fr. Dean Mercer - Easter 4 - May 15, 2011

2011-05-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

Is anger bad? The Bible says: “Be angry, but do not let the sun go down on your anger.”

Anger alerts us to danger and dishonesty and unfairness. A speeding car whizzes by, weaving in and out of lanes, narrowly missing your car and others nearby, and you get angry. Danger lurks.

But anger is also a powerful force. Left unattended it can quickly become poisonous, destructive and self-destructive. And so far as possible, the Bible teaches, settle the fight as soon as possible. Put the rottweiler back in the cage. “Do no let the sun go down on your anger.”

Bishop Tom Wright says that something like this is at work in our Gospel today (John 10.1-10). The desire for life in abundance, abundant life, is a force meant for our good. But it is likewise a powerful force and not to be trifled with. In John’s Gospel, people are in search of a King who will give them abundant life. The gospel describes how powerful this force can be for good, how dangerous it can be if misdirected and disappointed. Our desire for life must aimed in the right direction and at the right One, otherwise, like anger, it too can become a corrupting and destructive force.

Notice a little contrast in our lesson today.

“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. (John 10:1)

The word which is translated ‘sheepfold’ or ‘sheepyard’, as well as the words for ‘gate’ and ‘gatekeeper’ direct our attention to the only other ‘yard’ mentioned in the gospel. It is in chapter 18 where the word is translated as ‘courtyard’ and where enemies have taken Jesus and plot against him. ‘Sheepfold’ and ‘courtyard’ are the translation of the same word.

So the . . . police arrested Jesus and [took him] . . . into the courtyard of the high priest [and] . . . the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. (John 18:12-16)

In John’s gospel, we have two yards to consider and to good effect. Start with the second. It is the court yard where Jesus was taken after his arrest. And what do we know about it?

Well, we know it was a place of darkness and destruction. It was the place where authorities gathered at night in order to secretly plot the death of an innocent man. It is the place where the advice of the chief priest was taken up that it was better that one man die than a nation, even if that one man is innocent.

The ‘courtyard’ was a place of destruction.

But secondly, it was a place of injustice.

Repeatedly, it says, Pilate appealed to the crowd to free Jesus against whom he could find no charges. Repeatedly Pilate was shouted down by the crowd who preferred Barabbas the bandit. Repeatedly Pilate betrayed the fundamental principles of justice to which he, above all others, was obliged. And when his appeals to public opinion failed, Pilate betrayed the law and “he handed [Jesus] over to them to be crucified.” (Jn 19:16)

The court ‘yard’ was a place of destruction. It was also a place of injustice. And thirdly, it was a place of betrayal.

“Aren’t you one of his disciples?” the gatekeeper asked Peter.

“No,” he said, “I am not”, and repeated his denial again . . . and again.

This dark and wicked yard of malevolence is also a place of corruption, turning the bravery of Peter to pudding, the loyalty of Peter to treachery.

The courtyard stands as a warning to those who seek ‘abundant life’ apart from the sheepyard of Jesus.

And so, consider by contrast, the sheepyard of Jesus.

First, the sheepyard of Jesus, Jesus says, is a yard of grace.

Our lesson today is closely linked to the passage we read on the fourth Sunday of Lent about the blind man healed by Jesus who is subsequently interrogated, persecuted and driven from the temple by the false shepherds about whom Jesus warned. And it says, Jesus came and found him. The word ‘find’ is rarely used, but it includes the search of Jesus for his disciples, the earlier search of Jesus for the lame man he had healed, and here the search of Jesus for the blind man, healed of blindness, and persecuted for it.

I told you that the word ‘yard’ only appears here and in the passage about the courtyard of Jesus’ arrest. The same is true for the word ‘gate’ and ‘gatekeeper’. But the word ‘gate’ or ‘door’ appears one other time in John’s gospel.

Can you think of another famous door in this Gospel.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” (Jn 20:19)

Our Lord has come into the world to give life and the determination of the Good Shepherd to bring life is greater even than the doors that the fearful may swing shut behind them.

First, the sheepyard of Jesus is a yard of grace.

Secondly, and by sharp contrast, the sheepyard of Jesus is a place of truthfulness.

I mentioned a couple weeks ago that in our study of Romans that following Jesus Christ does not lead to a life of secrecy and cover-up. Rather, the consequence is peacefulness within society, a clear conscience before God. This transparency and truthfulness begins with Jesus. The sheep respond to the voice of the Good Shepherd because he speaks the truth - a truthfulness that leads Jesus to the judge’s bench of Pilate, where fearlessly he would present himself openly and guilelessly before a magistrate of Caesar himself.:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (Jn 18:37)

Secondly, and by sharp contrast, the sheepyard of Jesus is a place of truthfulness.

Thirdly, the sheepyard of Jesus is a yard of mercy. It is a yard where the sinful and the crooked get a second chance.

In the courtyard, one of Jesus’ apprentices, Peter, did everything wrong that he could do wrong. He betrayed Jesus, he abandoned his responsibilities, he fled.

But what does Jesus do with sinners? What does Jesus do with those everyone else has given up on, with those who have given up on themselves?

It says,

“After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias . . . [and when] they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter - [three times] “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” repeating the question in a threefold reversal of Peter’s threefold betrayal. (Jn 21:15) What does Jesus do with sinners? He offers them the mercy of God. He offers them a second chance.

The Gospel of John is sharp with its warnings of judgement and separation. But the judgement is a judgement of inevitability. Separate ourselves from God, the Gospel says, and we cannot live. Separate ourselves from God, we separate ourselves from life, truthfulness, and mercy. And I can’t help but think that the courtyard of Pilate challenges us even more seriously to discover what exists in the sheepfold of Jesus.

Life! And life to abundance. And life to be shared with the lame, the blind and the outcast.

Truthfulness. A life lived happily before God and humbly and transparently with others. A life that shares freely what we’ve received and delights in what God has given to others.

And finally, in the sheepfold of Jesus the mercy of God and a second chance.

And with the courtyard of Pilate in the background - this solemn question stands: is there anyone else, anywhere else, who will keep us better tethered to the grace, justice and mercy of God?

Late Thursday afternoon, Stanley Emerson passed away in his 86th year. Stanley is the husband of Leela, and a longtime member of the Centre and Parish. We’ll be hearing more about him over the course of the coming week, but Fr. Isaac mentioned to me that during a time of sharp distress during the Sri Lankan civil war, one of the Anglican orphanages lost its directors. And so Stanley and Leela were the ones to come and manage and direct the orphanage and to love the children. And so, possibly a little surprising to the eye, this unassuming couple have children around the world, abandoned little sheep they sought out, loved and protected.

The desire for life - abundant life - is a powerful force. And misdirected, aimed at the wrong one, it has the power to corrupt and destroy. But in the sheepfold of the Good Shepherd, it is a desire that will unite our lives with the grace, truth, and mercy of God. It is life and life in abundance.

Black History Sunday - The Rev'd Fr. Theadore Hunt

2011-02-21T08:30:00.001-08:00

Preached at St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Toronto, February 20^th, 2011 (Epiphany 7, Year A)

Dr. Rosemarie Sadlier, president of the Ontario Black History Society, contextualized Black history perfectly when she wrote: “Black history refers to the stories, experiences, and accomplishments of people of African origin. Black history did not begin in recent times in Canada, but in ancient times in Africa. People connected by their common African history and ancestry have created Black history here. [Therefore] the African-Canadian population is made up of individuals from a range of places across the globe including the United States, South America, the Caribbean, Europe, Africa, and Canada.”

Black history is the history of a people who were uprooted from their native land, and made to journey to foreign lands primarily for their utilitarian value; millions of whom never survived the often perilous journey. In Canada we may have come to learn of the stories of: Mathieu Da Costa – believed to be the first black person in Canada. He was brought over in 1605 as a translator for the French colonizers of what is now Quebec. Or perhaps we may know of the 6 year old boy Olivier Le Jeune – also brought to Quebec in 1628 as the first African slave in Canada. To be sure, following the defeat of the Loyalists in the American war of Independence, many other African slaves would be brought to Canada by their British owners at that time who were looking to settle in Canada. On account of the popular biographies written about them, some may be more familiar with the stories of The Rev’d Josiah Henson who fled to Canada in 1830 from the South in search of his freedom. When he arrived, he joined forces with those working for the abolition of slavery while also helping to improve the quality of life for fugitive slaves in Canada. Or, some may be more familiar with the stories Harriet Tubman who similarly fled north toward the northern states and eventually to Canada in search of her freedom. She did this utilizing the informal network of escape routes and safe houses known as the Underground Railroad. Yet, not content with her own freedom, she again made the journey south between 13 to 19 times as a ‘conductor’ of the Railroad, risking her own life and possibility of recapture, in order to lead hundreds of other slaves to freedom. For this reason she was given the nickname Moses.

But judging from the experiences of those who were either brought here, or those who fled here in search of their freedom, even after they arrived, life was by no means easy. Slaves were promised that they would receive land, freedom, and rights in Canada, in return for their service at war only to be disappointed. They faced increasing hardship and hostilities at the hands of many Whites who in tough times were often in competition with them for the same jobs. Blacks were often prevented from establishing Black communities, or even socializing with each other. Widespread discrimination under the laws at that time meant that it was not only difficult to defend oneself but also to support oneself. Just ask the 1200 Blacks who left Halifax in 1790 and relocated to Sierra Leone in Africa. Nevertheless, those who remained continued to persevere in the cause of freedom. And with the help of abolitionist sympathizers such as Lieutenant-Governor John Simcoe in the 1790’s, Attorney General John Robinson in 1819, and George Brown in 1844 then the editor if the Toronto Globe – the Anti-Slave Trade Bill was passed, it was declared that Blacks were free by virtue of their residence in Canada, and the causes of the abolitionist forces were given a voice through the press, respectively.

Nearly almost 160 years ago to today, in 1851, the Canadian Anti-Slavery Society was formed. And, as if made stronger and more determined by the genetic knowledge of their ancestors’ struggles, personalities such as Mary Ann Shadd, Anderson Abbott, Robert Sutherland, Delos Davis, and Elijah McCoy began to emerge in Canada. These individuals made pioneering contributions to the shaping and development of Canadian society in the areas of education, medicine, law and the sciences respectively. They would pave the way for the accomplishments of those of future generations such as Nathaniel Dett, Addie Aylestock, Viola Desmond, Leonard Braithwaite and so many others in the areas of the performing arts, religion, business, law and politics. Much of the information I have recounted for you today I credit to the work of the Historica-Dominion Institute; an organization which is dedicated to deepening the knowledge of Canadian history.

But why have I gone to such great lengths to highlight for you so many of the details of Canadian Black history??? There are two main reasons. The first reason is that we are historically conditioned people. As historically conditioned people we are connected or associated to a series of past events. Therefore, having a proper sense of our history is foundational for knowing our identity. One of the ways that you and I come to understand who we are is by looking back at the stories, experiences and accomplishments associated with our life. This is why the nation of Israel came to the self-knowledge that they were a people who were called to live in covenant with the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. This is the reason why they continued to recount significant details of their peoples’ life and journey with God to their children and to their children’s children. Likewise, we are historically conditioned people. The second reason is that having a proper sense our history helps us to envision who we should be. What do I mean? Consider the example of your own family. Because you are a member of your particular family, either by birth or marriage at a particular historical date and time that you can point to, whenever you interact with the other members of your family, on account of your historical identity, you know who you should be with them. Your historical identity informs your role among them (i.e. as a parent to your child, or as a child to your parents, or as a sibling to your brothers or sisters, as a spouse to your husband or wife etc.) Similarly, on account of their historic identity as the covenant people of God, the Israelites knew who they should be in relation to Him and others. That is what the passage from Leviticus (19: 1-2, 9-18) for today is signalling for us. The Israelites’ covenant relationship with God meant that they should be a certain way in this world – that is, they should live in moral holiness with God and with their neighbour – not lying, cheating, slandering or harbouring hatred and grudges toward one another – but living justly, loving their neighbour as they loved themselves, and living in ways that brought healing and wholeness to community. This is a vision of human life lived from God’s perspective; a particular way of life made possible because of God’s word spoken to Moses. Hence, the Psalmist is able to speak of a whole hearted desire and willingness to follow in the way of God’s laws and precepts; covenant as a way of life and not as a list of “do’s-and-don’ts”!

The New Testament teaches us that when the Word became flesh and lived among us, the early Jewish Christians came to realize that the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob who had called Israel in covenant to be His people, was the same Lord Jesus Christ. And so, given that their history with God established their identity and also gave them a sense of who they should be, the fact that God had now been made flesh and stood among them meant that their identity – that is, how they understood who they were and who they should be – was clearer and more tangible to them now than ever before…..for Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil.” The early Jewish Christians also came to realize – through the evidence and the work of the Holy Spirit in and among them – that God’s covenant relationship, and this particular way of living, was no longer restricted to Israel, but was extended to the whole world! (John 3:16-17) In other words, this meant that, in Christ, ALL humanity – indeed, the whole world – was to understand its identity and what it should be.

For this reason, Paul’s letter to the Corinthians for today reminded them never to forget who they are and Whose they are – that they are God’s temple in which the Holy Spirit dwells, and that Christ is the foundation upon which their lives are built. He is the One to whom their ultimate allegiance ought to be given, and it is in accordance with the wisdom of His life that their own lives ought to be patterned. You see, Paul was now marching to the beat of a different drum. Paul’s whole sense of history and identity had been broadened. In Christ, Paul had recognized the One God who is Alpha and Omega – the beginning and the end – the Maker and Redeemer – the source of all creation and the One toward Whom all creation is moving. Paul was able to perceive God’s hand at work in human history – calling Israel to be His people, and sending the Son – uniting all creation to Himself. He saw history now as God’s own salvation history; a history through which God makes Himself known. Therefore, the secular world’s division of humanity by race or class or gender, as a basis for special privilege or status, are no longer valid within the Church. The Church is one body; the new creation which has come into being in Christ through the Spirit. This is why Paul could say that “there is no longer Jew or Greek….slave or free….male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus….Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise…” and those in the Corinthian community who were either boasting about which leader they belonged to, or quarrelling amongst themselves, had completely missed the point – which is that, in Christ, all creation comes together as one, and we are all inextricably interconnected.

My friends, the God we serve is the God of all time – of our past history, our present reality – our future expectations. And so, just like the Israelites saw, and as Paul and the early Christians saw, so too, through the eyes of faith, we need to be able to perceive God’s hand at work in this time and history which belongs to Him. Sometimes we perceive God’s hand at work more clearly in hindsight. But the point is that we need to correctly perceive ALL history – whether it be Black history or any other ethnic history from Christ’s redemptive perspective, that is, knowing that, in Him, all things are being made new. To see history merely as the history of a particular culture or race is to see history partially, in a segmented and fragmentary way. Sadly, when we view history in isolation from its truer and fuller context – i.e. when we focus in too closely on our particular history – or when we sit back and compare our particular history to the history of another race or culture – then we will have a greater tendency, like the Corinthians, to quarrel amongst ourselves and either become vain or bitter. In that regard, I believe the scriptures are challenging us to look at Black history more holistically within the broader context of what God has done, is doing, and will do within the common history of all creation in order to make himself known.

When we view history from this perspective, then we see that each race, culture, or ethnicity is God’s good gift to creation. Israel in its particular calling and vocation is and continues to be a gift to the creation. Indeed, I am certain that we can all think of countless examples throughout human history of the evilness, wickedness and other atrocities which have been perpetrated in the name of race, culture and ethnicity – when these are not seen as God’s gifts. Thankfully, in the Church, God has given us grace to heal from the scars of such evil and wicked atrocities; that is, through confession and acknowledgement of past wrongdoing, forgiveness for past hurts, and repentant hearts endeavouring not to repeat or perpetuate past failings. Nevertheless, the important point is that in Christ, through Whom all things are made, your race – your ethnicity – is a gift to the creation. It is an opportunity that you have – uniquely within the skin you are in – and in spite of whatever else you may have encountered within that skin – to make God known by recognizing your fundamental identity in Him, and therefore understanding how you should be – that is, how you should live – in relationship with Him and with your neighbour.

Today’s gospel passage from Jesus’ sermon on the mount teaches us just how God chooses to make Himself known, even in the midst of present evil. He does so when – on account of our identity in Him – we continue to show the perfect ‘one-sided’ love of God when we are struck on the cheek, sued, forced into labour, when everyone begs from us, or when we are persecuted. The perfect love of God is ‘one-sided’ because it is a love that continues to love one’s neighbour even when that love is not returned. Christ gives us an enduring demonstration of God’s perfect love in the cross!

I am reminded of the example of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and of the fact that his “I Have A Dream” speech was so powerful simply because it helped those who participated in the civil rights movement to perceive God’s hand at work not only within their present circumstances but also in the greater plan of God in Christ in all of human history – past, present and future.

So, while the secular world may observe Black history for any number of social, cultural or political reasons as being a particular history………….within the ‘broader environment’ of God’s present and coming kingdom, we in the Church give thanks to God for the stories, experiences and great accomplishments of our black brothers and sisters to the extent that in some way their lives made God known by reflecting those covenant values – of loving God, and loving neighbour as oneself even when that love is not returned – values which tell us that they too perhaps knew something of the greater history of which their lives were apart – that is, God’s salvation history with humankind. May we be challenged to allow God to make Himself known through our stories, experiences and accomplishments in our own generation. Amen.

Sermon - "Are you the one?" - December 12, 2010

2010-12-14T09:41:00.000-08:00

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

I was telling my mother earlier this week that one of the strongest memories I have of Christmas is a street corner in the little prairie town of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, twenty miles from the farm where I grew up.

It’s about 5.00 o’clock in the afternoon, the little town is cloaked in snow, the gray of the clouds is deepening into darkness, the colored lights draped around the shop windows sharpen and glisten, and kitty-corner from where I’m standing is a store of men’s fine suits. In a town of large, boisterous cafeterias full of farmers and their families, a city bordered by cattle lots and machine shops, this one elegant store stands out. I’m not sure why. Maybe it just seemed right for the season. But I remember it clearly, and can still smell the leather and fabric - the beautiful gray flannel three-piece suits, the luxurious leather coats that only a few wore in that little town of coveralls and workboots.

And in my memory it’s late in the month, there aren’t many days left. I walk with my mother back from the suit store to the Co-op, back to the large, boisterous cafeteria where we’d gather before heading home to the farm, where my grandfather would spend most of the day shooting the breeze with other farmers and complaining about the price of 10 cent coffee. And then, with my grandparents and my sisters, eight of us would all crawl into my father’s station wagon. And on nights as cold as 20 or 30 below zero, I’d be jammed into the back seat with my grandfather who, after many hard years, had one of those beautiful leather coats. And I can smell him. I can smell the coat.

And I remember pulling out of the parking lot, rolling along the little, illuminated city streets, rolling along in deep ruts of snow and ice, hard enough to defy the toughest plow. Rolling out onto and along the empty highway toward the farm, where the approaching lights of another car could be followed for miles, the car lights glistening like the star lights above.

Rolling off the highway onto the dirt road toward the farm three miles north, six farms marking the path between the highway and home. Until, in the distance, the sight of the yardlight, and then the gray outline of the barn, the workshop, the equipment sheds, the grain bins, the trees that stand sentinel-like around the buildings, until finally the little flashes of green and red, the Christmas lights that my grandfather pinned to anything that would take a nail - on the house, on the roof, on the power pole, on his wooden reindeers.

You know, I think for the first time, this week, I realized why Christmas came to be so difficult to understand. I think I realized for the first time that I wasn’t just waiting for a colourful parcel. I waited for something more beautiful than the pastel sunsets on prairie fields blanketed with snow, I waited for something richer in smell and warmth than a barn filled with cooing cattle on a bitterly cold winter’s night, I waited for a place lovelier than our living room, with a new red carpet, a fragrant evergreen tree, and my pretty baby sister crawling around on the floor.

I think for the first time, this week, I realized why Christmas came to be so difficult to understand. I longed for a place more beautiful than a place whose beauty I could not imagine surpassed.

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Children are created to hope and believe and anticipate deeply. But friends, the years pass. And hopes are disappointed - misplaced hopes because they are misplaced. But even some of the nobler hopes we’re capable of - hopes for our communities, our families, ourselves - some of them fail and are disappointed. Years pass, and the protective shield of childhood slips away. And we begin to hope for what we think we can settle for, for what we think it is realistic to expect.

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

What had John expected?

“One more powerful than I,” he said. One who will baptize with fire, he said. One who will separate the wheat and burn the chaff “with unquenchable fire,” he said (Mt 3:11-12).
It was the hope for a conquering King, who would rule the people, and judge their enemies. It was for a King as strong as King David before him. As hard as the cruel world in which tiny Israel sought its place.

These were his hopes. This was the king for whom he had bravely sought to prepare the people. But for all he himself had done to prepare, what had come of it?

Scripture records that John was imprisoned by a mercurial king. A king fascinated by John, but cowed by the court which surrounded him. A king in debt to his own indiscretions. A king for whom the lives of the weak were pawns on the playing board for him to dispose of as he saw fit.
Brave, righteous John, prophet to the people, prophet for the Messiah - brave and righteous John in prison because of an oaf like Herod. The years pass and even the greatest, noblest hopes are hit hard in a tough world.

What does John hope for?

The harder and sadder question is what little left does John expect?

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

And it is against that backdrop of darkness, imprisonment, fear, anger and imminent death - against that background of bitter disappointment - that the remarkable answer of Jesus is offered in return. And I would have you notice one astonishing thing.

Taken together, Jesus’ answer to the disciples of John summarize what the prophet Isaiah foretold.

From Isaiah 35: “The eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped.”

From Isaiah 61: “He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted.”

And from Isaiah 29: “Out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see . . . and the neediest people shall exult in the Holy One of Israel.”

With one difference.

All of these passages from the prophet are, in the book of Isaiah, wrapped in warnings of judgement - the very warnings of John the Baptist. But the report which Jesus sends back leaves out the warnings and looks past the judgement to the new world which follows.
John has battle on his mind. Jesus announces instead the restoration, justice and peace for which the prophets finally longed.

Do you remember what happened when King David captured and entered Jerusalem for the first time? The Scripture says that as he approached, his enemies from within leaned over the city walls and poured scorn down upon him. “Not in a thousand years will you ever get in. So certain are we that even our blind are strong enough to resist you.”

Do you remember what happened? King David captured the city, and returning insult with insult, he cursed the blind and forbade them from entering Jerusalem (2 Sam. 5.6-10). In a bloody fight, King David won. In a hard world, King David replied in kind to the enemies who taunted him.

But do you remember the very last thing that Jesus did before his royal entry into Jerusalem (Mt. 20.29-34)? It says at the side of the road were two blind men, begging for mercy. It says the crowd, receiving their king, told the blind to be quiet. But it says that Jesus heard them, and called them, and restored their sight. It says that Jesus put them back on their feet so that they could enter the city, too.

Jesus sent back an answer to John far beyond what a weary man in a prison cell could ever have expected or imagined to hear. The people are being judged, but judged by the purity of Jesus’ life in a way they never imagined. The people are already in battle, but the final battle being fought by Jesus against sin and death itself, a battle no one expected anyone to wage. But for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, the sights of paradise are already in view, the sounds of children’s songs already ring.

Friends, Advent is as important to Christmas as Good Friday is to Easter. And if we do not contemplate Advent, if we fail to make Advent time the time by which we mark our days, we will not understand what has already happened in Jesus Christ. With our senses dulled and distracted, we will lose the taste for the beauty of God. With our hearts weighed down, we will lose confidence for lives of truthfulness, integrity and forgiveness which the grace of God frees us to live.

Because in this world scarred by ugliness, our Lord restores our sight now to glimpse paradise and to anticipate through our lives the final glory still to come. In this world wounded by injustice, our Risen Lord strengthens us now to live justly and to anticipate through our lives the final and perfect peace still to come. For the promise of Christmas is nothing less than the recreation of the world and the redemption of our hearts and lives, beginning now and anticipating the climax - through the humblest flower sneaking up through the concrete, through the humblest life radiating the love of God. And the One who carried the love of God by way of the cross to the furthest depths of sin and death, who was raised on the third day and vindicated by the Lord of heaven and earth, is the One holding us in his embrace and carrying us through each day. And in the tender words of Jesus, concluding this chapter:

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Sermon - "Haiti" - Ephraim Radner - January 31, 2010

2010-02-04T07:02:00.001-08:00

The Rev'd Dr. Ephraim Radner is the Professor of Historical Theology at Wycliffe College, Toronto, and an honorary priest at the Anglican Church of St. Paul, Bloor Street, Toronto.

As we turn our hearts to our calling by Christ towards our brothers and sisters in Haiti, I would invite us to reflect on some verses from the Psalm we sang together earlier: “I look to the right and watch, but there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me, no man cares for me. I cry to thee, O LORD; I say, Thou art my refuge… The righteous will surround me; for thou wilt deal bountifully with me” (Ps. 142: 4,5,7). The righteous will surround; and you will deal bountifully with me.

1. Why are we here, gathered in this church? It may seem obvious; but when Haitians gathered the night of the earthquake – battered, traumatized, broken, and homeless that evening – and when they crowded into streets and sang and prayed in the darkness, reporters on hand were amazed. One NY Times editorialist thought it was senseless – why pray or sing to a God who just let this happened?

Indeed, we do know these things: we know that on Tuesday, January 10th, at about 5 pm, the earth moved and shook in Haiti near the capital city of Port-au-Prince. And in a few minutes, the buildings collapsed leaving over 100,000 dead – we will probably never know the number; 2700,000 or more homeless; thousands injured; 100,000 or more children left without parents or known relatives at this time. And the churches too – sanctuaries, cathedrals, seminaries, schools – all gone. 100 of the 120 church buildings of the Anglican Episcopal Church in Port-au-Prince are destroyed – cathedral, seminary, churches, primary and secondary schools buildings, university, cultural museum, vocational schools, and more.

2. Staggering extent of suffering. Is this why we are here? Probably not, because, however staggering, it is no more than so much daily suffering: 25,000 children alone die each day from hunger and illness; 7 million a year. around 8.000 die each day of AIDS – preventable; 3,500 are dying of malaria each day – preventable; 1,350 suicides each day.

Natural disasters far away: we all know in 2004 of the great Tsunami; but only a year before, in 2003, 40,000 died in an earthquake in Iran; another 40,000 in 2005 in Kashmir; 100,000 in a flooding in Burma in 2008.

And, of course, there is war: perhaps 90 million people were killed in wars, or in ways directly connected with war in 20th c.; in 2002, 175,000 were killed. Over the past decade, up to 3 million have died in the Eastern Congo alone. It’s been happening, in other words, all the time; we didn’t need to wait until January 10th.

I am trying to numb us with statistics, because it is numbing; most of us cannot comprehend them, bear them, engage them.

3. So why are we here? It is not simply the numbers or the extent of suffering.

Perhaps, it is because Haiti is so close by, and there are Haitians even that we know. After all, Haiti and North America have long been linked.

Jean Baptiste Pointe-du-Sable, a black Haitian fur-trader, started a settlement in the 1770’s that marks the founding of Chicago. Yes! Chicago, founded by a Haitian. 800 freed Haitian slaves, fought for the Americans against the British at Savannah, in 1779; there’s a statue in Savannah to prove it! The Catholic Church is canonizing a freed Haitian slave who came to New York in 1987, Pierre Toussaint. He cared for the poor while cutting rich people’s hair. There are now anywhere from 600,000 to a million Haitian immigrants in the US, and another 100,000 in Canada.

But until recently, it mostly went the other way: Americans in the 19th century worried over Haiti’s slave revolution: would it come to the US? They also worried over Haiti’s potential dealings with Britain and France or Spain, and carefully guarded the waters of the Caribbean around it. Concerned with political chaos and wanting to protect their investments, the US occupied Haiti in 1915 for almost 20 years. They left the country rich in infra-structure, but utterly weakened in leadership and economic self-sufficiency. US Marines returned in 1994 and 2004 in the midst of chaos; the UN has had 6.000 military personnel there since then. And now in 2010, thousands more –US and UN soldiers alike – are entering.

4. So we have connections in geography and history. Is this why are we here tonight?

I think there is another reason, a better reason, and stronger and deeper reason: Psalm 142:7 “The righteous will surround me. For thou wilt deal bountifully with me.”

We are here because we are joined – we in this church, with Haitian Christians and their people -- to body of the Christ, in the Church. Haiti: did you know that they are the people most engaged by Christians in the world, including Anglicans? There are more one-to-one relations between Haitian Christians and North American (or other) Christians than anywhere else.

That was not always the case: The tremendous failures of the Christian Church have weighed on Haiti for centuries. Columbus arrived in 1492, with his missionaries in tow. Within only a few years, the indigenous Taino Indians were enslaved and finally killed by disease. All they left for posterity was the name of this country, “Ayiti”, “land of the high mountains”. The Spaniards, with the Church’s support, began then to important African slaves, and so the terrible story began on that score, that engulfed millions of human beings and souls. When the French took control of the western part of Hispaniola in 1697, they brought their own French priests. And the slave plantations thrived, growing sugar cane, indigo dye plants, and coffee, and killing off a third of the slave population every 5 years. When the slaves finally gained their freedom by revolution, in 1804, the Catholic Church fled, and the Vatican only chose to recognize Haiti in 1860, insisting on a special treaty – one that allowed in the 1960’s, the dictator Papa Doc to choose his own crony archbishops and bishops.

It was in the shadow of Catholic complicity and negligence that Anglicans first arrived. And only because of American Protestant racism. James Theodore Holly, a convert from Catholicism who went from DC to Detroit to Toronto, where he helped the worked with the famous American-Canadian abolitionist Henry Bibb on his paper Voice of the Fugitive. Finally he reached New Haven, CT, where he became an Episcopal priest. Holly became convinced that black people in the US would never find their way unless they could grow strong in their own lands, apart from whites. With the blessing and financing of the Episcopal Church in Connecticut, Holly left with a party of 110 African-Americans for Haiti, in 1861. Received by the Haitian President, Holly spent the next 50 years of his life as a missionary, building an autonomous Anglican Church, supported here and there by American Episcopalians. He became Anglicanism’s only second non-white bishop in 1874 – consecrated, in fact, in the very church where I worked in Brooklyn. By the time he died, the Orthodox Apostolic Church of Haiti, as it was called, had over several thousand members, 22 churches, 13 priests. He built schools with every church, knowing that literacy was the door to understanding the Bible and gaining skills for some movement out of poverty.

5. Not that it was easy. Holly did his first baptism on his second day in Haiti – it was his week-old son, born on board ship. The Haitian president and wife were his godparents. But within a year, malaria and a typhoid epidemic had killed half of his emigrating party: including Holly’s wife, three daughters, and the young son he had baptized. With little money, Holly was forced to work as a shoesmith, and most of his priests eventually also worked full time at other jobs. Fire and civil war destroyed his churches and home numerous times; a token of what was to come, even three weeks ago. The Cathedral in Port-au-Prince, now in ruins, was already the sixth incarnation of a building that had been arsoned, bombarded, and burnt over and over again.

For all his race-consciousness, though, Holly was a Christian committed to the Christian church. He would work with all people, and sought only to pour his life out for them in the terms of the Gospel. Remarkably, he was present at the Second Lambeth Conference, in 1878. While visiting, he was asked to preach at Westminster Abbey. It was a stirring moment, and one to remember, as the great of the church gathered from around the world to hear him: Psalm 142:7 The righteous will surround me. For thou wilt deal bountifully with me.

6. With his death, the Anglican Church in Haiti was left wobbling; ten years without a bishop, only the inclusion of the Haitian church as a diocese within the American Episcopal Church’s structures steadied things, at least in terms of finances. From 1924 on, the Episcopal church of Haiti has had American and now Haitian bishops, and has grown to 115 congregations, 200 schools, several hospitals and numerous clinics, over 100,000 baptized members, and 36 active priests.

And in this, Haitian Anglicans are like many other churches now: in a country with no infrastructure, the church does majority of education and health. To be honest, most of the money for this comes from Christians outside of Haiti. With respect to the Episcopal Church, it derives from partnerships with individual congregations and parishes in the US, and a few in Canada. No one knows the number involved! I would put it in the scores of such partnerships. Maybe hundreds!

7. And now we look at this dreadful scene in Port-au-Prince. But we must say, as the psalmist say, (Psalm 142:7): The righteous will surround me. For thou wilt deal bountifully with me. It has happened for 150 years. It will continue, will it not? The righteous will continue to surround?

Bishop Zaché Duracin of the Haitian Episcopal Church lost his own home and all his possessions (he had earlier lost his car to a carjacker). He was offered the chance to evacuate in order to direct the church’s life again from a safer place. But he has chosen to stay in Haiti, living homeless with the homeless. He sent out a note the other day with this affirmation: “Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ….I am writing to you from the tent city we have set up behind the rubble of College Ste. Pierre, our marvelous senior secondary school that is no more. As you know, we have gathered approximately 3,000 people here alone. Across the land, the Diocese of Haiti has set up at least 21 refugee camps, caring for more than 23,000 people.” And in this, and so much else, “We are partners” with you, he writes.

That is, “we are surrounded by the righteous”. Not that we are “the righteous”, except as we are righteous in Christ and so act righteously through his grace. But that is the claim and calling, as Bishop Yu told us earlier this evening. A claim on us by God Jesus, and a calling to us from Him.

What faces Haitians, and Episcopal Church in Haiti now? : immediate life issues of housing and food and health; sorting out the losses and getting people together; rebuilding; That will require money and resources. St. Paul’s is “surrounding” with God’s bounty, we hope, joining up with St. Basil’s church in Gonaives, already themselves housing hundreds of refugees in their church year; Wycliffe, I hope, will help somehow with the rebuilding of the seminary in the months that come. But today, we can surround with prayer; and self giving as it arises, without stint.

May I end with Bp. Theodore Holly’s closing prayer at Westminster Abbey in 1878? “And here in the presence of God, of angels and of men, on this day sacred to the memory of an apostle whose blessed name was called over me at my baptism, and as I lift up my voice for the first and perhaps the last time in any of England's sainted shrines, I dedicate myself anew to the work of God, of the Gospel of Christ and the salvation of my fellow-men in the far distant isle of the Caribbean Sea that has become the chosen field of my special labors. […] O thou Saviour Christ, Son of the Living God who, when Thou wast spurned by the Jews of the race of Shem, and, who, when delivered up without a cause by the Romans of the race of Japheth, on the day of thy ignominous crucifixion, hadst Thy ponderous cross born to Golgotha's summit on the stalwart shoulders of Simon the Cyrenian of the race of Ham, I pray Thee, O precious Saviour, remember that forlorn, despised and rejected race whose son thus bore Thy cross when Thou shalt come in the power and majesty of thy eternal kingdom to distribute Thy crowns of everlasting glory. And give to me then, not a place at Thy right hand or at Thy left, but only the place of a gate-keeper at the entrance of the Holy City, the new Jersualem that I may behold my redeemed” Amen and Amen, and let us stand and move with him and his people who are our people.

Sermon: "Blink", May 17, 2009, John 15.9-17

2009-05-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

Fr. Gordon Byce was telling me about a book he is reading right now, entitled Blink (Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, 2005, Malcolm Gladwell). It is about what we are able to understand from quick impressions, what the author refers to as thin-slices of experience. What we take in, so to speak, in the blink of an eye.

In one experiment, a group of high school students were given lists of unconnected words, and from those lists, they were to pick four words and compose a sentence. This they did. But you know what caught the attention of the researchers. After the experiment, the students left the room together and were all observed as a group, walking slowly and lethargically down the hall.

Because scattered throughout the rows of words were specific words related to old-age: elderly, aged, creaking. Without knowing it, these old-age adjectives had slipped into their thoughts and they waddled down the hall like a geriatric gaggle of decrepit geese.

Fr. Gordon’s observation was - what power there is words and thought, even thoughts that seem merely to skim across our minds.

Along those lines, our passage from John is a remarkable one.

Repeatedly, and at crucial points in John’s Gospel, it comes back to this theme that following Jesus Christ we are entered into a deep and intimate relationship with him and, through him, with God. And that the blood which enlivens this relationship is the self-sacrificing love of Jesus Christ. And without this love, it all falls to the ground. Or, as the passage from last week would put it, like a lifeless vine, we whither and die separated from the love of God.

But it is a point made elsewhere about this commandment that caught my attention.

What makes Jesus’ command to love new?

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. (John 15:12)

Or, as it is put earlier in chapter 13,

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35)

And so, what makes it new?

It has been said that this love which Jesus commands is new because it is different from the love revealed in the Old Testament. It contrasts with the love described in the Old Testament.

That’s not quite so. The love of our neighbours is strongly emphasized in the law, as is the love of strangers and foreigners (Lev. 9.18, 34).

And John’s Gospel does not seem to have a contrast with the Old Testament in mind. In fact, quite the opposite may be the case.

In Matthew’s Gospel, there are places where a clear contrast is being made. Jesus says, “You have heard it said” - in reference to an instruction from the Old Testament law - and then says “but I say”, in order to emphasize what is new or unique or distinct from the Old Testament.

“You have heard it said, do not murder. But I say, do not even hate your enemy.”

This sharp contrast between Jesus and the Old Testament does not occur in John’s Gospel.

Instead, as the great New Testament scholar Raymond Brown puts it, the command of Jesus to love one another is new because in Jesus Christ the love of God reaches its climax.

In Christ, the love of God shows its full intensity.

In Christ, it demonstrates definitively God’s destiny for his people and the world.

And in Christ it is offered - the great love of God is offered - as an intimate and personal gift from Jesus to his disciples.

The command of Jesus is new because in Christ the intensity of God’s love is revealed. God’s love for the unlovable. The relentless, inexorable reach of God’s love, traveling that road to the cross, fully aware of the anguish and agony ahead. And not to put too fine a point on it, Jesus meant what he said: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:13). He gave his life, and across the generations Christians have simply and obediently followed the example he gave.

Secondly, and I think majestically, the love of which Jesus spoke is new because it fills full the hope of the prophet and the destiny for God’s people:

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when. . . I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord (Jeremiah 31:31-34).

But finally, this love is new because it has been extended to us personally by Jesus Christ - who lived in this world, who breathed this air, who knew our joys and satisfactions, our sorrows, our disappointments and defeats. We are invited by Jesus into an intimate, deep and familiar relationship with him.

Later, St. Paul would say this very thing of the Corinthian Christians:

You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all; and you show that you are a letter of Christ, prepared by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. (2 Corinthians 3:2-3)

It is personal. We are invited to know our Lord: through his presence in our hearts; through the sacraments through which we reach for him week by week; and in the fellowship of his body, the church. It is new, because it is personal, and is offered to each one of us. The offer of God’s love coursing through our veins, enlivening our lives.

For the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about Haiti and Sri Lanka. For obvious reasons. A terrible and bloody civil war in Sri Lanka. Abject poverty in Haiti, put to us powerfully last weekend by Fr. Max Accime. And last Sunday evening at Evening Prayer, a direct question was put to Fr. Max: Haiti suffers from debilitating poverty, it has endured successive corrupt governments, and it sits in hurricane alley. “Where do you find the strength to get up each day,” Fr. Accime was asked. “Do you have any hope?”

To which Fr. Max answered simply, “One can always hope.”

But I’ve been thinking, what do Christian do when faced with these sorts of circumstances?
What does the church do, in Haiti, in Sri Lanka.

Well, what is the church in Haiti doing: praying, feeding, teaching.

I mentioned to you a while back that I had met Dr. Jebanesan, principal at the Theological College of Lanka in Pilimatalawa, Sri Lanka. I asked him how they were responding to the civil war.

“Well,” he said, “we teach our students the Gospel. And to help them with that,” he said, “we send the Tamil students into Sinhalese parishes and Sinhalese students into Tamil parishes.”

What does the church do? What does the body of Christ do in response? With the intensity of the love of Jesus, rising from the confidence of God’s redemptive purpose in the world, and with this great love coursing through our veins as our Lord has invited us to share, the church does what these Christian brothers and sisters are doing: praying, serving and teaching. Praying for peace. Feeding and sheltering those in need. Building schools where the young can be given the chance for better lives, better homes, better nations.

And it’s the serving and teaching that matters most, right? Well, that was when I blinked. Blinked over words that I kept using: impossible, hopeless, intractable.

Impossible problems. Hopeless communities. Intractable hatreds.

But then I ‘blinked’. Impossible, hopeless and intractable are not Christian words.

What does the Archangel Gabriel say to a young maiden, chosen by the Lord to bear the Savior in her unopened womb.

“Nothing,” he says, “is impossible with God.”

What does the apostle Paul say to a frightened and persecuted people living in the belly of the Roman beast in the great city of Rome?

Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them . . . No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink . . . Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:12-21)

And what does the Almighty say to a stuttering shepherd, commissioned with the deliverance of a brow-beaten people out of the hands of the great Pharoah of Egypt:

“This,” says the Lord to Moses, “is why I have let you live: to show you my power, and to make my name resound through all the earth” (Exodus 9:16).

As Christians, we serve and teach wherever we go, but our mission begins with prayer, because we “read, mark, learn and inwardly digest” the words of our faith, the hope of our lives, and the accomplishment of God in Jesus Christ. Prayer because in Christ the intensity of God’s great love is revealed. Prayer because in Christ we have the hope of this great love lifting God’s people and bathing the world. And prayer because from the loving wounds and outstretched hands of our Savior, we are given this love to course through our own hearts and lives for the sake of the world and the glory of God.

Let this prayer be our prayer today.

"Past the Empty Tomb" - Easter Sunday, April 12, 2009

2009-04-12T18:23:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday there were two fine sermons at St. Paul’s - one from our Bishop, Patrick Yu, and the other earlier in the day from Annette Brownlee.

And in them, two kinds of people described who have encountered Jesus who, for our benefit, the Gospel of Mark offers us in stark and plain terms.

The first is the Palm Sunday follower, with a palm branch in their hands, singing hymns at full voice, thrilled at the thought of what Jesus will do for them - and about to be bitterly disappointed.

It is worth a moment’s pause to consider the disappointment which Jesus Christ can bring.

The disappointment of the person who follows him thinking that a moral life, like one we imagine Jesus living, will lead to an orderly life, hopefully one of some success, at least one quiet and contented. But who discovers that following Jesus one is led into the centre of the storm.

It is the disappointment of the person who follows him thinking that a Christian life will always be happy and one of rich personal relationships. Away from the world's hatreds, into the company of Christians who will never betray or disappoint. Who discovers that following Jesus, one will face the darkness of the human heart. The darkness in our own. The darkness in others.

It is the disappointment of the person who says I want Jesus, I just don’t want anything to do with the church. I’m above institutions, and party spirit, bureaucracies, and blimpish traditions. I want nothing to do with superstition or hypocrisy. But who hears, in dismay, that it is in order to raise up a holy people, a nation of priests, that our Lord inhabits the church and gives his body into our shaking hands and offers his blood to our trembling lips.

And it is the disappointment, quite frankly, of the one who follows Jesus Christ thinking that they can get ahead by doing so.

“We want to be on your left and right,” James and John tell Jesus. But this is a King who serves - and expects his followers to do likewise. And who only once in Mark’s Gospel will be honored with company on his left and right - when two criminals are pinned to crosses beside him (15.27). It is not the glory they were hoping for. It is not the glory Jesus offers.

Jesus Christ loves us. He reaches out to us. He comforts us, heals us, protects us. He answers all sorts of simple, personal prayers upon which we can look with gratitude. But it is love given in order to enlarge our hearts. It is love given in order to draw us in and send us out. It is love with a back bone which simply won’t be manipulated by our narrow goals and prejudices. And every short-sighted Palm Sunday follower discovers this on Good Friday when they hear their hollow cheers descend into cries for crucifixion.

And there is another kind of follower who the Bishop described. It is Simon of Cyrene, the man on the road forced by the soldiers to carry the cross of Jesus to Golgotha.

And I liked the Bishop’s joke. Simon is the great ambassador for everyone who is here today at the insistence of their husband or wife. Simon represents all those who know that there’s a price to pay for Easter Dinner: “you gotta go to church.”

For a month in seminary, I was a student volunteer at a skid-row mission in Chicago. I met a man who bounced back and forth off the street. He was clean and sober when I knew him, was serving as a volunteer at the mission, and was simply a great friend to me.

One night we went out onto Madison Avenue for a tour of the neighbourhood. If any of you remember the TV show Hill Street Blues, that police precinct was not far away and was our first stop.

But the tour included a walk past several of the street missions, some with better reputations than others. “Had all my stuff stolen in that one,” he told me.

“And in that one,” he said, “chapel comes before dinner.”

“There I was born again, and again, and again. New converts get better lunch.”

Simon of Cyrene is the great ambassador for all those who say, “I am here because my grandmother told me. I am here because my father dragged me. I am here because I can’t stay home without making a scene. I am here in body, but don’t think for a moment you have my heart, or mind, or my soul.”

He is the ambassador for all those who have had Jesus thrust upon them. They weren’t looking. They aren’t interested. But they can’t get around him. They have a Roman spear in their back, and they discover - they truly discover - they can’t get around him.

I’ve mentioned before a man who I knew as a pastor in my home church and a chaplain to the local police. But as a teenager he was part of a street gang. One night there was some gun play and he made the national news because he was the nephew of the mayor.

In the gun fight he had tried to shoot his enemy but tripped and shot himself. Because of the injury, the police caught him, arrested him and sat outside his hospital room. And inside the room he was stuck with a kind, old man from our church, lying in the bed next to him. Determined to challenge him. Determined to love him. Determined to follow him to court and to prison. Determined that, whether he wanted it or not, this young man would see Jesus.

Mark’s Gospel is a stark one. It is one in which the mission of Jesus Christ is portrayed in dramatic, violent, agonizing terms. It is one in which the most reliable ending we have portrays everyone frightened and confused.

It is the Gospel in which only two people clearly understand who Jesus is. The devils who see the spiritual battle being waged. And a dusty old soldier, experienced in cruelty, who stands at the foot of the cross, and looks upon the dying Jesus in reverence and wonder.

It is a stark Gospel portrait. But echoing just beyond its border is the triumphant news of the resurrection, waiting for those who will make the trip past the empty tomb.

As Bishop Yu noted, the Gospel of Mark has this beautiful little tease. It says that Simon of Cyrene was the father of Rufus and Alexander (15.21), names which appear nowhere else in Mark’s Gospel. But which almost certainly mean that the sons of Simon would later become known to the Christians who read Mark’s Gospel. Simon and his sons were known because Simon who first followed Jesus by force, discovered the truest thing he’d ever known and would come to follow Jesus in love.

Pope Benedict says, what do we need in life?

We need fellowship. We need relationships that matter. We seek harmony and peace.

But before all that, we need the truth (Behold the Pierced One, Joseph Ratzinger, Ignatius Press, 1986, p. 125). And in the life of Jesus Christ, vindicated by his resurrection from the grave, heaven has shone down upon us, and we have seen the truth.

What did Simon discover? What would the frightened women discover? What would the betrayer Peter discover?

They went off to the grave, armed for the stench of death, and discovered life - life vindicating all which Jesus taught and did and the great mercy he displayed.

The mercy of God who chooses the least of all people to become a holy nation, a beacon of light in the world, who reveals himself in the master who will serve. In the king who will give his life for his enemy.

The mercy of God who clings to these humble people, in their rebellion and disobedience, because of an unrelenting pursuit and a promise he will not give up on to redeem the world.

And the mercy of God with power to reach into the core of this world, grabbing death and sin, and pulling it inside out into light and life.

Those unlikely people, with Jesus thrust upon them, discover the new life of the risen Lord vindicating the great mercy he had displayed among them. They discover life, and mercy and know it to be true. The truest thing in heaven and earth.

“Let the same mind be in you,” says St. Paul, “that was in Christ Jesus.”
. . . who emptied himself, taking the form of a slave . . . And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of . . . death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name . . . in heaven and on earth and under the earth. (Phil. 2:5-11)

And because of him, says Paul, I have come to regard everything as loss . . . “because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord . . . I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings. (Philippians 3:7-11)

Pope Benedict concludes the matter perfectly:

[Jesus] Christ summons us to find heaven in him, to discover him in others and thus to be heaven to each other. He calls us to let heaven shine into this world, to build heaven here. Jesus stretches out his hand to us in his Easter message, in the mystery of the sacraments, so that Easter may be now, so that the light of heaven may shine forth in this world and the doors may be opened. Let us take his hand! (p. 128.)

Sermon - "The Great Love" - Mark 1.9-15

2009-02-28T19:52:00.000-08:00

St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Lent 1, March 1, 2009

As we follow Jesus into the Lenten wilderness through these few, brief and dense verses, Annette Brownlee’s words from last week must surely be kept in mind. Week by week we gather as the church to be shaped and formed by the word of God.

But before entering the wilderness, we must begin where it began for Jesus, the voice from heaven declaring: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11)

Bishop Tom Wright asks the right question here: what, for instance, is the effect on those when the fatherly voice they first knew as a child was a voice of rejection, callousness, harshness, or neglect. What is the effect of a father’s voice which is cold, critical and distant?

And what, by contrast, is the effect on Jesus of this voice, heralding the great love of God? What is the effect for us - that God loves us with a love beyond all measure? And where, exactly, can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

Well, as Mark’s Gospel explains, and as Jesus demonstrates, first of all you can go into the wilderness to be tested and to persevere.

Where is the wilderness?

Well, it’s not that hard to understand. Like the wilderness into which the children of Israel were led. That long desert walk where, with only enough food for one day at a time, the people were being taught to take the next step, to do the right thing, and to trust God.

The wilderness we’ve all known. Of all those seasons where it all seems flat, dusty and hard and we’re still expected to do the right thing.

Every season in life has those wilderness walks. When the only thing clearly before us are the responsibilities of the day - at school, or work, or family life. When we are expected to be faithful, and righteous and true, but what we feel, simply, is stuck.

You know what I like about this description in Mark? It’s the verb. It says that Jesus was ‘driven out’ into the wilderness. It’s a strong word. The effect would be even stronger if we could hear all the times the single Greek word used in Mark’s Gospel. Demons are driven out of ravaged lives. Death is driven out of a little girl. Money changers are driven out of the temple.

At the very least, we know that this was no easy matter for Jesus, either. For the Spirit comes upon him with great force, driving him into the wilderness.

But where Israel failed, where the church has failed, where you and I have failed - on those long, dry desert walks, with only the next step in our sight, Jesus took each step and persevered.

Where can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

Well, you can go into the wilderness, face the tests, and persevere.

And secondly, you can go to the Lord and answer His call.

I’ve mentioned before the simple solution C. S. Lewis offers to those who are having trouble hearing God speak. “Be quiet”, he says. You can’t listen if you can’t hear.

It’s a good place to begin in Lent. Listen. Turn off the radio, TV and Ipod.

Listen.

And in the wilderness, Jesus listened and answered the call of the Lord.

Here is where this brief passage is simply packed.

For when Jesus hears the heavenly voice, in the background a deep echo resounds.

An echo of the second psalm of David where the Lord declares his love for the King who will rule his people:
“You are my son; today I have begotten you” (Ps 2.7).

An echo of the suffering servant, who would bear his people’s sorrows, and take onto himself the wounds of their iniquity:
“Here is my servant [in whom I am well pleased],” says the Lord through the prophet Isaiah (42.1). "By his bruises we are healed (53:5).

An echo the people of Israel yearned to hear in their time. But what no one anticipated was that the king and the servant would arrive in one person. That their king would be enthroned on the cross, forgiving his executioners who spit on him from below.

You know, there’s another passage that may echo here, not as well known, coming from the apocryphal book of Wisdom. Ominously, it anticipates how the servant of the Lord would stand out and be recognized.

“Let us lie in wait for the righteous man,” [the wicked say to themselves], “because he is inconvenient to us and opposes our actions . . . Let us see if his words are true, and let us test what will happen at the end of his life; for if the righteous man is God’s child, [God] will help him, and will deliver him from the hand of his adversaries. Let us test him with insult and torture, so that we may find out how gentle he is, and make trial of his forbearance. Let us condemn him to a shameful death, for, according to what he says, he will be protected.” (Wisdom of Solomon 2:12-20)

The heavenly voice issues a stunning declaration, and with the deep echo of Scripture in the background, Jesus goes into the wilderness to hear the Lord and answer his call.
The call of Israel’s Messiah and King who will lead by a great, suffering love, whose integrity will rise and shine out of insult and crucifixion.

Why is our life so noisy and distracting? Why is the TV always on and the radio always playing. One reason is here. One reason is that we don’t want it quiet. Because if we could hear, we might hear the Lord - calling us to mercy instead of revenge; sacrifice instead of indulgence; service instead of self-promotion.

Where can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

As Jesus has shown us, you can go to the Lord and answer His call.

But finally, you can go into the fray and bring peace.

This is what I noticed first, and I’m sure it’s only a small thing. But all week I kept thinking about the beasts.

I grew up on a farm. We had cattle, chickens, pigs, turkeys, sheep, goats, dogs, cats, mice and rats. From the time we could walk, we walked among the animals. But we were also taught to be careful, especially of wild animals. The foxes mad with rabies. The mother cows, never to be fooled with when protecting newborn calves. Wolves and wild dogs, unpredictable and dangerous.

Usually once a year I try to get home to visit. One of the treats I look forward to is to go out in the cool of the night for a walk. But I don’t like it as I used to. Growing up our home was at the north end of our property and in the midst of the grain land. But for the past 20 years, my parents have lived in a new home they built, placed picturesquely in the pasture land. It is a glorious setting. But alone, outside in the dark, forming a ring around the pasture where the cattle rest, you can hear the coyotes, clearly and close enough to know that they are only a few hundred yards away.

Jesus goes into the wilderness with the devil and the beasts.

We don’t have to think too long, or hard about this, either. He goes into the wilderness and there he faces the danger of the wild animals. There he faces the subtler, but more infinitely more dangerous lures of the devil. And there the angels minister to him. There, in the midst of great danger, the greater love of God upholds him.

And when his time in the wilderness ends, the power that drove him into the wilderness will become the power by which he drives death and devils from the people they ravage. By the end of his time in the wilderness, the wild beasts have done him no harm, and a sign of the future, which God intends, is before us:
The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid . . . and a little child shall lead them. (Isaiah 11:6-9)

Where can you go when this great love upholds you? You can go into the fray and make peace.

The first pastor under whom I served was approaching retirement when we met. For many years he had been a faithful pastor in Hong Kong and China. In an intense period during the Vietnam War he was the Director for the Christian Children’s Fund in southeast Asia, responsible for the lives of 25,000 children orphaned by the conflict. I remember him telling me about hard experiences, including the rescue of a young girl who had been kidnaped.

And at the height of it all, he and his wife endured the sudden and unexpected death of their daughter, a bright, young Christian college student struck down by a vicious and fatal virus.

He is the one I think of who faced the tests and remained faithful over the long walk. Who answered the call to unselfish Christian ministry. Who entered the fray and made peace. And maybe because of his work with orphans, maybe because of the loss of his daughter, maybe very simply because of the great love upholding him, his favorite verse was from Psalm 27: “If my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up” (27.10).

For all those wilderness times in our lives, when the next step and the right thing is hard to do;

For all those summons from the Lord we’ve drowned out, that voice from God telling us that our lives are meant to offer his mercy in the world;

And for all the dangers in the world, all the dangers in our hearts, which paralyze our steps;

For all those times - we have Jesus - who remained faithful, who answered the call, who entered the conflict and made peace, and whose life is offered to us, a light shining in the darkness.

In this Lenten season, let us take the time to listen, pray and reflect. Let us follow Jesus Christ - our Saviour and Lord.

Sermon: "Sight" - John 1.43-51

2009-01-18T09:58:00.000-08:00

Epiphany II, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, January 17, 2009

This may not have a lot to do with anything, but it strikes me that our friends to the south, in the “land of the free and home of the brave” are being blessed with a season of grace.

With a remarkable opening act on Thursday as a brave and skilled pilot, flying a damaged passenger plane over New York City, instinctively steered it away from the homes of innocent people, and skillfully landed it on water where, with only minutes to spare, a breathless nation gave thanks for the lives of 155 people who were saved rather than lost.

In some respects it is surely and only a coincidence, but what a dramatic opening to this historic week as the first President of African-American descent will be sworn into office. And for a second time in a short period a great nation, and by historical standards, a great and young nation, will rally around a second of its greatest aspirations: the freedom of all people to live in peace and to be judged by the content of their character, rather than the colour of their skin.

It might be coincidence. I think it’s a season of grace. And now is a time to thank God and to pray for President Barak Obama and the people of the United States.

**********

It was the second year of college when I decided to test a calling to ordained ministry. But when I left high school two years earlier, I was probably more inclined to apply for law school. But the summer I entered college I met someone who caught my eye and turned my head.

And I’ll never forget it. It was a late afternoon on our farm. I had just finished carrying out a dozen buckets of ground wheat and oats to the cattle and was walking down from the barnyard to the house for supper, and there in the driveway sat a magnificent red convertible - I think it was a Datsun 240Z.

And all the way to the house - as I ran all the way to the house - my mind was racing: did one of my friends win the lottery? Did one of my sisters hook a big fish? Who in the world did my parents know who drove a Datsun 240Z?

And as I walked into the house, to my utter shock and amazement, mom introduced me to the new pastor of our Methodist Church. Better yet, a week later, he and his wife, with their little boy, invited me to their home for dinner and a visit. And in his living room - the living room of our new pastor - was the biggest, most beautiful stereo I had ever seen or heard. That evening I listened to jazz for the first time, Chuck Mangione to be specific. And I didn’t just hear Chuck on the trumpet. Over speakers that were crystal clear, I could hear Chuck breathe.

And about a week later I was ready to sign up to be a preacher. “I’ll learn the Creed, I’ll promise to study the Bible, and I’d really like one of those red cars.”

In fact, while the Datsun turned my head, what kept my head turned, more than anything else, was the kindness, humanity and seriousness of our new pastor. We didn’t just listen to jazz. We talked about the Scriptures, and living the Christian life, and most of the things that weighed heavily on my mind as a young man. And, in the weeks that followed, he took me under his wing and invited me along in his work as a preacher and a pastor to the people of our congregation.

His Datsun turned my head. His kindness, and the world he opened up for me, turned my heart.

I had not noticed this before, but there’s something of a joke being told on Nathaniel. When his brother Philip comes up to him and says that he should come quickly in order to meet Jesus, Nathaniel is the one who famously says, “What good could possibly come out of Nazareth?”

But then when Jesus meets him, saying that he saw Nathaniel from a distance under a fig tree, Nathaniel is so impressed by Jesus’ sight and insight that in an instant, he makes a complete reversal in his judgement about Jesus, hailing him as the Son of God and King of Israel. Talk about an impressive first impression.

But an impression to which Jesus replies, in so many words, “I know what has caught your eye and turned your head, Nathaniel. And, in fact, I intend to strengthen your sight, too. But if you stay with me, prepare yourself to see a great deal more.”

At which point, in his remarks about the angels ascending and descending, we are taken back, many years earlier, to a rugged scene in the wilderness and to a man named Jacob racing for his life. Jacob is a thief and a scoundrel running for his life from the brother he has cheated and robbed.

What did Jacob first see? He saw a fortune. The inheritance of land and property of his brother.

He saw honour - however cunningly gained - the birthright from his father Isaac, given to him by his father Abraham, given to him by the Lord. Jacob saw honour and fortune and it turned Jacob’s head. And it churned in Jacob’s heart rottenness and scheming.

But in its own way, a joke is told on Jacob. And the tumult which follows Jacob’s theft of his brother’s birthright and inheritance and is entirely appropriate to the inheritance he had taken by deceit. Because while the Lord was more than happy to have caught the eye of Jacob, was Jacob prepared to see what God sees.

A world created in love which the Lord looked down upon and saw that it allwas good.

A world gone wrong, by the disobedience of its people - leading to the saddest verse in all the Bible in chapter six of Genesis, when the Lord looked down upon the earth and regretted his creation of it (Gn. 6.7).

A world which, in his mercy, God vowed he would not destroy, but would rebuild from the ground up, among the simplest, and humblest - with a fair share of scoundrels thrown in - in order to demonstrate his love.

A world reunited with its Creator through a people formed by God in the wilderness. “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Lev. 19:1-2), the Lord thundered to them.

And the creation of a people. Not like any people. The people of the Lord, a nation of priests, a light in the world, a vessel of God’s mercy.

Was Jacob prepared to see this? The angels ascending and descending, heaven’s doors opened, and the constitutions of heaven and earth reunited again.

The property of the promise caught Jacob’s eye. But the weight of God’s glory and mercy fell upon him.

And it is a violent reaction, a terrific struggle, as this cunning man is haunted and hunted by the God of Israel. And Jacob’s own great struggle is a perfect representation for the struggle of many of us, haunted and hunted down by the mercy of God. And yet, what beauty the great struggle produced when after a battle in the night an angel, humbled Jacob limps away from it battered and bruised, but with one victory to his credit - new eyes! The first sight through them coming only hours later at the reunion with brother Esau; Esau he had robbed and humiliated; Esau, who welcomed him home in mercy. And it says, Jacob looked up at Esau and saw in his brother's face the face of God.

The same joke is being played on Nathaniel.

I know what you see, says Jesus to Nathaniel. But are you prepared to see what I want you to see?

A woman of ill-repute waiting to be restored.

A man born blind longing for sight.

Proud disciples with dirty feet served by their master.

The risen Jesus forgiving a treacherous friend.

And an angry world answered by the tears of the Saviour who offered his life on the cross for us all.

What do you see when you look at Jesus? Is it a display of power or a promise of relief that catches your eye? But rising from our passage, what are you prepared to see? And are you prepared to offer the Lord your eyes so that he might transform them and help you to see what he sees.

What does all this mean for us?

Well, I thought Annette put it beautifully last Sunday. It means opening ourselves to the love of God, revealed and offered to us in Jesus Christ - the love we dive into at baptism. The love we reach for each Sunday at the table. It means this love flooding our lives from head to foot. It means new eyes looking out into the world through this love, transformed to see what Jesus sees.

It means, as the prayerbook collect for the week past puts so beautifully and modestly: that true to our Lord, we might “perceive”, to know what things we ought to do and may also have the “grace and power faithfully to fulfil the same” (Epiphany 1, BCP).

It means what St. Paul prayed for the people of Ephesus: “that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge (3.18-19)”. To look out upon the world from the vantage point of this great love:

. . . seeing through the anger of a neighbour to the child of God who might be served;

. . . seeing through the obstinancy of a son or daughter to the young man and young woman who is and can be raised to be wise, patient and kind;

. . . seeing a sick and desperate friend and offering them the hope of our Saviour whose hand reaches across the gaping mouth of the grave.

It is a joke played on Nathaniel. A man impressed by the powerful sight of Jesus, who himself is offered new eyes to see. Angels descending and the light of heaven shining through. And through the mercy of God, to see what Jesus saw. To love as Jesus loved. To share the great love of our Saviour in the world. Amen.

The Silence of Angels

2008-12-25T08:41:00.001-08:00

Christmas Eve Sermon, December 24, 2008, St. Paul's L'Amoreaux

During my years in college and seminary I worked part-time at a radio station. Mostly I helped with some community programs and Sunday morning I was the announcer for an hour or so of gospel music. It was a small assignment, but I was thrilled. I loved the work, I got a great kick out of meeting the announcers. I was fascinated with the inner life of a radio station. And I picked up some of the jargon which I was ever so eager to show off.

One day at home, we were listening to the radio, when suddenly, between a song and a commercial, all went quiet - for two, possibly three seconds. My ears pricked up, I pointed at the radio, and authoritatively proclaimed: “Dead air!”

My mother did not know pop radio jargon. “Dead what?,” she inquired.

“Dead air,” I said. “The announcer missed his cue. One thing must follow the next without interruption. It's big trouble if there’s ‘dead air’.”

And I always remembered my mother's reply: “I would have called that silence,” she said. “which, sometimes, is golden.”

It would take a while to sink in, but in what I came to realize is a very noisy world, my education about silence had begun. And as years passed, the liturgy of the church played a big part.

Those under whom I trained for the liturgy would often insist that there are times for silence. In the presence of God there are times when you simply cannot improve on what is taking place. There are times when you had better not try.

A few years ago I was baptizing a beautiful little baby girl. The church was full and it was a big and special day for all of us - except, it appeared, for the little girl who began hollering from about the moment she entered the church.

Duly warned, I guess, about the serious undertaking about to be thrust upon her.

And for the first part of the liturgy, her father took her out to the entrance so that the congregation could hear what was going on, and so she could holler at the bulletin boards and all the late-comers. But then her fateful moment arrived, her father brought her back in - and she hollered.

It was, in fact, genuinely awkward. Her parents were embarrassed. The people were fidgeting, because it was hard to hear almost anything but this beautiful little creature sounding the alarm. And I remember thinking, maybe I should say something to lighten the moment. Maybe I should tell a joke. But I thought of what my instructors had said. “There are times when, for better or worse, you cannot improve on what is taking place. There are times when administering the sacraments, you had better not try.”

And so I didn't. And it came time for me to receive the little girl, to baptize her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, to etch a little cross on her fore-head, the symbol of the cruciform life a Christian is destined to lead, and to present her family with a lit candle for her mission in the world. And apart from those ancient prayers, and for the entire time of her baptism, our little angel - and the angels attending here - were silent.

And none of the rest of us dared whisper.

This, no doubt, is a very small point, but over Advent I noticed something about Zechariah and Mary, the two to whom the angel Gabriel came, announcing the births of John the Baptist and Jesus.

Zechariah and his elderly wife were righteous and faithful people from the hills of Judea.

It says he was on duty at the temple in Jerusalem. On first reading, we probably miss the point. But at the time there were thousands of priests in the nation, as many as 18,000, and the chance to offer incense in the temple sanctuary was at the throw of the die and came only once or twice in a lifetime, if at all. This may have been Zechariah’s only opportunity.

And so he enters the Holy of Holies in the temple, and wouldn't you know it, first time in and the Archangel Gabriel appears. Gabriel has descended from heaven with the astonishing news that Zechariah and his barren wife will give birth to a child - the forerunner of the Messiah. First time in the temple and Zechariah will leave with a tale to tell - except, that at the critical moment he blows it.

You’d have thought that surely, somewhere, tucked away in a footnote in one of those old seminary textbooks he would have read the assurance that personal messages from the Archangel Gabriel are trustworthy. Instead, and unfortunately, Zechariah doubted, and was silenced by the angel until the appointed time.

Indulge me for a moment.

Gabriel has another announcement. The earth trembles at this one. We all do. And there are three things to be aware of in Gabriel's message to Mary.

First, the hopes of the nation are being fulfilled.

To her will come the Son of David. The hope of her people. The hope of the world.

". . . in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness- on them light has shined." (Isaiah 9:1-2).

Secondly, the same power of God that was at work at the beginning of the world in at the time of creation is now at work - in unexpected Galilee, in the unopened womb of a young woman, in a person who was otherwise not seeking anything for herself.

“The power of the most high will overshadow you.”

A better word might be ‘hover’, making it clearer what the Archangel is saying.

When does the Spirit of the Lord hover?

In the tabernacle and the temple, when the Spirit descended and hovered over both, expelling all inside.

In the beginning, when the Spirit hovered over the waters, bringing life out of the chaos of water and darkness.

And in despised Nazareth where no one expected anything, over a simple handmaid from whom no one expected much, the Spirit of God descended to bring light and life. To do what only God can do, where only God can do it.

The Archangel explained that the Spirit would hover over her. It is a stunning announcement.

But thirdly, extended to Mary - and to the world - is the divine compliment. The humbling of God's power and holiness among the people he created. With with whom he chooses, out of love, to be present. Among whom he chooses, out of love, to redeem heaven and earth.

“I will give you as a light to the nations,” says the prophet, “that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:6)

It is, I think, the stunning moment. We see it here tonight at the creche. The presence of the Almighty God in the arms of Mary. God who comes to us in his only beloved Son. A presence and an offer extended to each one of us. Here in its purest form. God here among us, in search of our response.

It’s a simple thing, and you may not want to make too much of it. Zechariah was a righteous man. God would use him to bring the Herald, John the Baptist, into the world. But for a few days, in response to his doubts, he would be silenced by the angel, given some time to think it through.

But when the question is put to Mary, to the one, some might say, who doesn't get much out of it.

To the one whose chief characteristics will be to ponder, and wonder, and witness and obey.

To the one whose joy would be the joy that shines through the tears.

When the Almighty reaches out to Mary, when the glory, purity, beauty and holiness of God is offered to Mary, she answers:

“Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Unlike any other exchange between a human and an angel in Scripture, Mary has the last word. And the Archangel Gabriel is silent.

For whom will we live? For ourselves or for the One who has created us. Today I invite you to accept the invitation that God extends to us in Jesus Christ. To offer your life in humility and repentance. To receive the gift of God’s own life and to permit yours to be made over by his presence. And to become a light in the world to the glory of God. Amen.

Eat to Live

2008-05-25T16:15:00.000-07:00

Matthew 6.24-34, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Pentecost 2, May 25, 2008

I have always admired Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the United States, for the courage and determination he showed as the Civil War President, that horrible four-year struggle from 1861 to 1865. But this week the admiration increased when I realized that during the same time he was involved in another titanic struggle, the second one, however, being against the granite of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

As a lawyer, he studied and wrote some of the early legislation that would lead to the construction of an intercontinental railroad. As a Senator he was one of the far-sighted politicians who vigorously supported its development. And as President, he fought this battle as hard as he fought the Civil War - and fought both of them at the same time.

If you know much about Canadian history, you’ll know that the construction of the Canadian National Railway, connecting the country coast to coast, was one of the great steps forward in the maturation and development of the country. The same would be true in the United States, with a similar large obstacle as engineers tried to figure out how to get through the mountains separating the west coast from the rest of the country.

Now, I have to beg your pardon if my history lessons get a little muddled from time to time. Much of this is not from what I’ve read, but from audio books that I listen to. So if a particularly difficult point is clouded by some strange reference to a Bob Newhart joke about bad bus drivers, and I start humming a line from John Rutter’s requiem, well, at least you’ll know what’s on my Ipod.

All that to say, from what I understand, one of the biggest challenges was not far from the west coast starting point. Almost immediately, surveyors and engineers were bucking heads with the Sierra Nevada, which is pure granite. At some points, 8 inches was all they moved in one day. And imagine, if you can, that this was done by hand. No jackhammers, no power tools, no tractors. Just shovels, picks, wheel-barrows, gun powder, muscle and ingenuity.

Here’s an example.

Many of paths for the mountain railway tracks were chipped out of the side of these granite mountains. And the only way to do it was to lower a man in a basket, who would then hand-drill a hole into the rock, stuff it with gunpowder and a fuse - a long fuse - and then yell as loud as he could to get the others to pull him up and out of the way before the charge blew. The rock was so hard that many times the blast simply blew out of the hole, with no movement of rock. So, they’d lower him back down, by hand he’d drill a longer hole, stuff it full of gunpowder and then try again.

And here’s a little history about race relations that I find intriguing. According to railroad historian Stephen Ambrose (Nothing Like it in the World), many of the men blowing the granite were Chinese. Do you know why? It is not because they were forced into the worst and most dangerous jobs. It’s because they were the only ones who knew how to do it and were eager to prove their ability. Initially, the racism they faced on the train crews was the suspicion that they were incompetent.

"But we know how to do this," they replied.

"They did build the great wall of China," one supervisor agreed.

And so, in hand-made bamboo baskets, they dropped down to the side of their granite foe, drilled holes, stuffed gunpowder, and carved a railroad. It was, and remains, an incredible feat. The victory was astonishing. A great country, joined from coast to coast, moving people and goods, building cities, farms, villages and giving hope, opportunity and prosperity to millions.

But one little extra.

Stephen Ambrose points out that the construction crew chiefs were usually loud-mouthed Irishmen with language that would curdle pavement. That said, they rarely resorted to violence in dealing with their men. Why? Well, because the men they commanded spent their days, morning to night, swinging picks and hauling rock. Their muscles were hard as steel. Throw a curse at them, if you needed, to get them going after lunch. But pick a fist fight and you’d likely get trounced. So hard did they work that after a day of hard labour, the crews returned to their camps in the evening in order to enjoy delicious meals. And sometimes it didn’t matter if the meals were all that well prepared. Says Stephen Ambrose, after that kind of hard work over a long day, it all tasted delicious.

This great battle against granite took place at the very same time as the Civil War, the great battle between northern and southern states. In fact, the railway was always part of it. One of the reasons for the route that was eventually taken is that northern politicians would not allow a southern route for fear that it would aid and abet the slave trade and the slaveholding states.

The Civil War exacted an horrific cost. It went on much longer than anyone thought and anyone wanted. The price in human life was astronomical. And President Lincoln suffered in every way, including political suffering. The summer before his re-election in 1864, no one, including Lincoln, thought he could win. But by summer’s end the tide had changed, he won the November election, and all knew that the war would not finish until the southern states surrendered and the north and south were reunited.

What happened that summer? It’s the work of historians to pick the moment or moments when things change. But here’s one that I like.

If you can imagine the northern capital of Washington D.C., where Lincoln and the Union Forces were centred, and a hundred miles south, Richmond, Virginia, where Jefferson Davies and the Confederate forces were centred, throughout the war the Union forces made several attempts at pushing south and capturing Richmond. It was the obvious thing to do. Take over the capital. Capture the leaders, if you could. Demoralize the people. But they couldn’t do it. In spite of tremendous advantage in terms of the number of soldiers available, every time the northern Union forces attempted to push south, they got bogged down, outflanked, tricked or distracted.

Time and time again, the northern forces would organize a great army, begin the trek south, get whooped in battle, and then head back to Washington defeated and disgraced.

But in the spring of 1864, the Union forces had a new General, Ulysses S. Grant. A short, quiet, unkempt, soldier with a bad rap for drinking, but fearless and determined in battle.

And here is, I think, the turning point. In the spring of 1864, the northern forces did what they always did in the spring. They bundled up their gear, headed south, picked a fight and got beat. And to a soldier, they all expected orders to pack up, and head back to Washington. But when they got to the road, there was no such order, and they saw General Grant marching south.

They’d just been beat in battle, just like always, but unlike the generals before him, General Grant became even more determined. And he was moving south.

You know what the soldiers did?

They cheered. They threw their hats in the air. They followed, they fought and over the next nine months, they stayed and won.

This was a general like them. This was a general come to build on the sacrifice of their lives, not to waste it. And behind him was a President who they trusted and loved, who had given everything he had, all his political credit to support them. Because before them all was the opportunity for a great and free country for all Americans. As the President would say after that November election:

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. (2nd Inaugural Address, Abraham Lincoln.)

If I were to summarize our lesson from Matthew, I would say this - food and drink are for something. And when our lives are lived for God’s purpose of extending mercy, working for peace and righteousness, and serving those in need, God provides for his hungry servants and it all tastes great. Our lives are meant for a great enterprise. And those who join it will be provided for. Those who offer their lives can be as certain of the Father’s provision for them as was the Father’s provision and protection of his only Son.

You get the point, I think. This is not an iron-clad guarantee that we will never suffer or do without.

Our Lord’s own life was a simple one, lived to accomplish the will of God, but made sweet by the food and drink shared with his disciples and the company of the forgiven.

Our Lord’s life was a sacrificial one, leading him to a lonely cross, but vindicated three days later by his glorious resurrection. And when Jesus promises that the Heavenly Father will provide and that He cares, it is a promise we can depend on just as surely as we believe that Jesus was vindicated by the Father and lifted from the grave.

My grandfather used to tease me: "Do you eat to live, or live to eat?"

Come to the Feast which the Lord has provided. Eat to live. Offer your life for his glory and as His servants in the world.

Amen.

Interrupted

2008-04-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

1 Peter 2:1-10 , The 4th Sunday of Easter, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, April 13, 2008

I attended seminary at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky, nestled in a little county town in the heart of Kentucky bluegrass country. And in my first year as part of the program of preparation for pastoral ministry, I was sent to a nearby orphanage. All of us in the class were assigned to different institutional settings, like the orphanage, or a hospital or a prison chaplaincy, and usually after a weekend of service, we’d meet the next week in class to think over our experiences.

My first week, I noticed a little guy about six years old. I was about 22 at the time, came from a family of three sisters and a pile of cousins, always thought that I could get along with children, and enjoyed doing so. So I went up to this little fellow and said hello. He didn’t say anything.

Figured he didn’t hear - and so I said it again. ‘Hello, how are you? My name is Dean.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. And he walked away. The experience of it was not simply that I had been ignored. It was as if it hadn’t even registered that someone was standing there, speaking. It was the first time I remember feeling like a speed bump.

I mentioned it to my supervisor at the orphanage. “That’s Bobby,” he said. “Treated very badly in his home and finally taken out. Don’t be surprised if he’s a little shy around adults.”

I mentioned the experience back in class. In class we were to think through things and, if possible, go back to hard parts and try again.

“Next time I’ll try chocolate,” I said.

“But before you do that,” said one of my classmates impatiently, “get down on your knees where he can see you, look him in the eye, and ask him if he’d like to play baseball or something.”

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully in class. “What good would that do,” I said to myself. “Chocolate is sure-fire.”

But the next weekend, there was Bobby, still treating me like pavement, and I thought, “Well, might as well try.”

I went over to Bobby, got down on my knee, stared him in the eye, and said, “Bobby, go over to the playground, pick up the bat, and I’ll pitch to you. See how well you hit.”

Again, didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything, walked around me - though it felt like over me like you walk over sidewalk - and ran off.

“What did she know,” was my first thought. “Should have used chocolate,” as I watched Bobby run off . . . to the playground . . . where he leaned over, picked up a baseball bat, turned around and for the first time, looked at me. And with only his eyes, he ever so forcefully and clearly said, “Pitch!”

So I pitched. And over the course of that term made a great little friend.

It was quite an experience at the orphanage, and there were parts I found very hard. The atmosphere among the kids was often very rough. Fighting and quarreling with the supervisors was routine. And it was hard to face what they had experienced at such a young age, often from the ones with the greatest obligation to protect them. I learned a little of how badly their thoughts and emotions were manipulated. And I learned about the sad cycle of it all, that the parents abusing them were 90% likely to have been abused themselves. And, unless interrupted, it would likely continue.

But I remember one weekend, a busload of us traveled a few miles away to a church where the young people sang in the morning service. And between songs, the director gave some of the young people a chance to speak, if they wanted to. One of the roughest of the bunch stepped forward and said, tearfully. “This is my family,” he said. “These people love me. And they have given me a chance.”

In I Peter, chapter two, there is a list of vices which the author says should not be characteristic of the Christian: Rid yourselves, therefore, of all malice, and all guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander. (NRSV)

These vices are common enough that they were no doubt raising their ugly heads among those to whom this letter was written. But there’s something intriguing about this list. For this particular group of Christians, these vices were also abuses directed toward them.

Situations are described in which clearly Christians are being maligned, slandered and abused. In light of these situations, they are counselled not to seek revenge but rather to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

In verse four, it says: Come to [Jesus Christ], a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight (NRSV).

In verse twelve, it continues: Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles, so that, though they malign you as evildoers, they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God when he comes to judge. (NRSV)

And then, clearly and forcefully, the argument is summarized in chapter three: Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil. (1 Peter 3:16-17, NRSV)

Now the point I wish to emphasize is that usually when we think about vices such as these - malice, guile, insincerity, envy, and slander - we think of them as personal problems or failings. But here in 1 Peter it is also recognized that many times these vices arise as a direct consequence of having faced them. They arise as a form of self-defense. In other words, if as a Christian you are constantly having lies told about you, why shouldn’t you stretch the truth yourself or lie about those who have lied about you? If people are being cunning against you, why should you have to be the one to always act honestly and play it straight? In other words, it is one thing to show Christian love among those who you expect to return it. It is another thing altogether to show Christian love when it is greeted by malice, insincerity, and slander!

And that takes us to the heart of this passage. 1 Peter is like an architect’s draft for a great building, whose cornerstone is Jesus Christ, who knew himself what it was to be ill-treated. For among those he served, Jesus was despised, rejected, and forsaken. But to the surprise of those who opposed him, God sent him to interrupt the downward cycles of hatred and rebellion in our world and to free us to serve.

He bore our sins on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness. (1 Pe 2:24)

How does this happen in a person’s life? How are the downward spirals interrupted?

It happens, often times, because another Christian has come into our life and through their kindness and truthfulness have interrupted our lives. In the life and witness of that Christian, we have seen Christ himself and our lives have been set free.

It happens in some cases because, in a dark moment, we have had a direct experience of God’s grace in our lives, and have been lifted to a higher plane.

This past week I heard a radio interview with Bishop Victoria Matthews, and at a time of uncertainty and confusion in her life, it was just such an experience of God’s grace that brought relief and offered direction which she would never doubt and from which she has never veered.

And it happens because it is true. Hatred, cunning and cruelty are not the final words to be spoken in this world. The final words are the words of forgiveness, mercy and reconciliation from the lips of Jesus Christ on the cross. And with his resurrection three days later, we realize that not only what he said was great. What he said was true. In fact, the mercy, forgiveness and compassion of God is true are the truest thing we know.

As Peter puts it so beautifully: He bore our sins on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness. (1 Pe 2:24)

I urge to open your life to God’s redeeming work. Accept the mercy God extends. Let the downward spirals be interrupted. And then enter gladly into the family business of sharing the mercy of God with others.

As 1 Peter describes it for us all:
[By the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ you have been made] a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Pe 2:9-10)

Live in Reverent Fear

2008-04-08T17:37:00.000-07:00

1 Peter 1.17-23, Easter 3, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux

If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile

I like sports movies. Not all of them, but there are a few that I’ve always loved.

One of them is Hoosiers, the story of a small-town Indiana basketball team under a tough but determined coach. Together they go all the way to the state championship and win.

Another is Remember the Titans, based on the true story of two Virginian high school teams merged as a part of school desegregation in the early 1970’s. They, too, go on to great accomplishments. But as the account of it goes, their willingness to work together had a lot to do with two weeks spent in training at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, the famous Civil War battle site, where they were pointedly reminded about the enormous sacrifice in America in pursuit of a nation where people of all races could live and work together in peace. Their small struggle, of black and white football teams, was part of a much larger national struggle, which they could either let slide into defeat or work hard for in pursuit of a much larger victory.

And another is Coach Carter, based on the true story of Coach Kenneth Carter who went into a rough and rundown high school in Richmond, California, explaining that any kid who wanted on the basketball team had to sign a contract promising to attend practice, to dress up in suit and tie on game day, to attend classes, to sit in the front row, and to maintain a 2.3 grade average, three points higher than the minimum. If the average wasn’t maintained by the whole team, the whole team wouldn’t play any basketball at all.

He meant it. And in 1999, Coach Kenneth Carter made national headlines when he locked the gym doors in the middle of an undefeated season. Grade averages had slipped below the minimum. Not only was the basketball team stopped from playing, but in the whole school anything to do with basketball - in gym, at recess - anything! - was stopped. The team forfeited its next two games, but in the meantime, certain basketball players did their homework. Grade averages went back up, and the doors to the gym were unlocked.

But there’s a beautiful scene in the movie about Coach Carter’s first season and one young player who wants nothing to do with the discipline and academics. He’s in a tough neighbourhood with an older cousin who deals drugs. Big cousin has figured it out,. Timo Cruz doesn’t need the headaches and nagging of Coach Carter and he’s soon off the team.

Until one night, Timo is out on the street with his cousin and members of a rival gang drive by and shoot his cousin dead in a brazen attack. Suddenly, the constant warnings of Coach Carter are driven home. In tears, Timo knows of nowhere else to go and on Coach Carter’s doorsteps, he throws himself into his arms, begging the coach to get him off the street, begging him for a chance to get back on Coach Carter’s team.

There are two words I’d like you to notice from our lesson in 1 Peter.

The first is the word Father. 1 Peter is a letter which moves effortlessly back and forth between the history of Israel and the developing story of the new Christian churches. Because for Peter, as for all of the New Testament, this is not two different histories, but one. And mention of the Father is meant to take people back not just to Jesus, praying to the Father in Heaven, but to God the Father of Israel, building a people who would be blessed by him in order to be a blessing to the world.

He began with an old man and an old woman to prove that love was the reason for what he did. Will you boast because of your vitality? No. You will boast of the love of God who has power over death.

He delivered slaves from Egypt. Will you boast of your strength and reputation? No. You will boast of God’s compassion on the least of all, freeing them from slavery.

And he gave them the law and made the downtrodden into a people. Will you boast of your self-reliance and ingenuity? No. You will boast of God’s grace. You will give thanks for God’s care. You will treat with reverence and fear the law that God gave. For as it is so eloquently stated in Leviticus:

I have broken the bars of your yoke and made you walk erect. (Lev. 26:13)

Or, as St. Peter puts it:

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Pe 2:9-10)

All of which is to say, that like a coach who truly respects his players will insist that they live dignified and worthy lives, this Christian community Peter addresses lives before a Heavenly Father who loves them, and wants them living a life of dignity and strength and blessing to others.

The first word to notice in our lesson from Peter is Father, because the story of this Christian community is the continuing story of God’s great work of building a people, strong in heart, mind and soul, through whom God’s love will be extended to every corner of the world.

And the second word is fear.

On Wednesday evening a new group met to begin the study entitled ‘Encountering Jesus’. And in our first session, we studied the passage from John about the time a Samaritan woman encountered Jesus. And the study guide we use noticed an interesting transition that occurs. You may remember that Jesus offers the woman water that will quench all her thirst. Naturally, she requests it and Jesus replies by asking her to go get her husband. In so doing, he lays bare the fact that she’s already had five husbands, and she is now living, unmarried, with a sixth. It is a sad revelation but as you read, you can also feel how the encounter is deepening, question by question, step by step.

And then she appears to change the subject. You Jews worship in Jerusalem. We Samaritans worship on Mt. Gerazim.

You can smell a whiff of self-defense as if a greater grievance might distract attention from a lesser. Another wound is exposed. The sad and bitter of division of a people once united. The Irish of the north from the Irish of the south. Koreans of the north from Koreans of the south.
To which Jesus answers, this division is not the final word, for the Father seeks those who worship in spirit and truth.

“I know,” says the woman, “that this will happen when the Messiah comes”.

“I am the Messiah,” Jesus says to the woman.

It is a majestic scene. And maybe this is obvious to you, but it struck me with new force. In his encounter with the woman, he offers hope not only for the personal hurt, sinfulness and sorrow. He offers hope for the national hurt, sinfulness and division. He has come to offer salvation for both.

And it casts light on our understanding of the fear of the Lord. Fear here is not simply terror. It is fear, and reverence and regard for the purposes of God for the world and for each one of His children.

There is a temptation to lose the connection between these two. God came to save the world, but God begins by saving us as individuals. God came to reunite a divided nation and and a divided world, but he began with foot-in-mouth Peter and a Samaritan woman with five marriages gone bad.

It was the great vision of one like Martin Luther King Jr., whose memory we commemorate this weekend. A dream not only of individuals rising to their true status as men and women created in the image of God, but of a nation rising to its truest and deepest aspirations.

“I have a dream,” he said, “that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

“I have a dream,” he continued, “little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

“I have a dream,” he sang, “that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; ‘and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.’”

In the movie Coach Carter, there’s a great, ongoing exchange between the coach and the players. “What is your greatest fear?” he keeps asking.

And finally, one of the players answers, quoting a poem by Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate . . . It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

C.S. Lewis has a similar Christian taunt in his works. The work of the Gospel is not to suppress human ambition that is going hog wild. Rather, it is to enlarge our desires, to gives us a glimpse of God’s vision that extends to every corner of the world. It is, I think, the lovely encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman. “I am he, the Messiah come to heal the ancient grievances. And I have come to speak to you.”

If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile . . . love one another deeply from the heart. [For] you have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God.

Easter Joy in the Morning - Sermon - 23 March 2008

2008-03-30T16:36:00.000-07:00

In his commentary on St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, Bishop Tom Wright notes three things about why the patriarch Abraham is a model of faith for Christians.

First, Abraham turns from false gods to faith in the one, true God.

Secondly, Abraham rightly gives glory to God rather than glory to those things that are undeserving and which would set him on a course toward corruption and dishonor.

And as a hundred year old man with a ninety-nine year old wife, Abraham accepts the Lord’s promise of fruitfulness and new life trusting that the Lord has power over death.

I repeat. The faith of Abraham gives him purpose. He worships the true God. Not a swamp of false gods, leading a person into false hopes, empty pleasures, hollow promises.

Abraham rightly gives God glory and his faith brings meaning to his life. It is one thing to know that something is true. It’s another thing to let that truth permeate our lives, to find the meaning it gives to our life, and to do so with gratitude and reverence.

And the faith of Abraham gives him hope. He places his trust in the One who has power over death. Where Abraham can only see barrenness and death, Abraham accepts God’s assurance of fruitfulness and new life - and receives the child from whom descendants more numerous than the sands of the sea would descend.

Let me tell you about Fr. Walter Ciszek.

As a young man growing up in the United States, Walter Ciszek dreamed of living in Russia. During his theological training in the States and later in Rome, Ciszek studied Russia and Russian Christianity. And just as WWII began, hHe received his first appointment as a priest in Poland. And even though he hadn’t made it all the way to Russia, Russia came the rest of the way to him. With the invasion of Poland by Germany, Poland was carved up between the Germans and Russians and Walter Ciszek found himself in the Russian section.

But at the invitation of a fellow priest, an opportunity came to go with a coal mining team deep into the heart of mainland Russia. Ciszek jumped to accept and soon he was crowded into a railway boxcar for the long trip. He could barely contain himself, finally to visit the country he had so longed hoped to see; finally to experience life in a communist society about which he had heard such fascinating reports.

But upon arrival, his disappointment was profound.

In the mining camp, Ciszek discovered that the principle of religious freedom in a communist country meant little among people who were steeped in the official atheism. There was little interest and no encouragement.

Causing far greater strain, however, was the invasion of Russia by Germany. From then on, anyone who showed signs of nonconformity was under suspicion and most were arrested. Ciszek’s dream became a nightmare. He was arrested and for four years he was ceaselessly questioned and tortured under the trumped up charge of being a spy.

Ciszek describes this period as one in which his own soul was purged. Suffering and oppressed under communism, Ciszek had no more illusions about human institutions. Living beside hardened criminals, Ciszek had no more illusions human nature. And tormented day and night to produce a false statement, Ciszek’s eventual failure left him no illusions even about himself.
Though it was this final episode which served as a turning point.

After continuous interrogation, harassment and torture, Ciszek finally signed a statement declaring falsely that he was a spy. He went back to his cell in despair. He had lost hope in every one and every thing around him. Now he lost hope even in himself. But at that moment, the lowest in his life, he prayed a simple prayer and, as he put it, turned to God in complete trust, determining from that moment on to live with the single aim of trusting God and following God’s will even in every circumstance of his life.

So he did. Even in prison, he resolved to follow God’s will in every circumstance.

The prison guards were visibly amazed at his transformation. So much so that they misunderstood the change and hatched a plan to send him back to Rome as a Soviet spy. But when it was demanded that Ciszek sign a second agreement to serve as a Russian spy, Ciszek - who had become someone different from the man who had caved in earlier - refused. His captors flew into a rage and sentenced him to fifteen more years of hard labor in a Siberian work camp.

Which brings us to a remarkable episode in his life.

After completing his fifteen year sentence, Fr. Ciszek was released from prison and sent to the city of Norilsk where he could live, but under strict conditions set by the local authorities.
In Norilsk, however, Fr. Ciszek hunted up two other priests who had also been released from prison. They were in a miserable little shack in a squatter’s village on the edge of the city. But in that tiny hut, he was greeted with the joy of three brothers reunited at a seaside resort.

And there, in such humble conditions, after so many years of interruption, Fr. Ciszek resumed his duties as a priest. One occasion stood out among all others.

About a year later, the other two priests were forced out of Norilsk and Fr. Ciszek was left alone to serve the people during Lent and Holy Week. Humble as conditions were, a full schedule of services was arranged. Hundreds of people, at great risk to themselves participated. And for 48 hours straight over Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Eve, Fr. Ciszek went throughout the city of Norilsk, blessing the people and hearing their confessions concluding with the Easter eucharist. And when it was finally over and as he sat to rest, in the background he could hear the last group of courageous Christian people leaving his small cottage, greeting each other in the words of the traditional Easter greeting: Christ is Risen. Christ is risen indeed. For all he had suffered, to serve these brave people through the most solemn season of the Christian year was one of the most thrilling experiences all his life.

The very next day, he was picked up by authorities, given an airline ticket and ordered to get out of the city and never return.

And this is what I find so striking. In prison, he realized his limits as a frail, mortal and sinful man, there to discover the perfect contentment of choosing only to follow the will of God. And while at first angered by his expulsion from Norilsk, as he sat in the plane, uprooted again and on the way to another new home, suddenly, it dawned on him: how was it that he should have experienced the joy of that Holy Week? How was it, in such a dramatic and historic time, that he should be the one to reap what his two predecessors had worked so hard and faithfully to achieve? And in those terrible circumstances, he experienced the peace of perfect trust in God and in the future for which God would provide.

Following the risen Lord, Fr. Ciszek followed the true God who could be trusted through the tumult of war with the Nazis and oppression under the Communists. Following the risen Lord, Fr. Ciszek found the meaning of life offered in gratitude to the Heavenly Father who alone deserves it, turning his head away from the shrill demands for it from captors who tried to use violence to gain it. And following the risen Lord, Fr. Ciszek experienced the new life that God can bring where only death and hopelessness appear.

Or, as an editorial in yesterday’s National Post put it so eloquently (22 March 2008):

Even when all seems definitively lost, when the stone is rolled into place and the darkness within the tomb is complete, even then hope is not lost. For the day in which the voice is silenced, the day in which the light is darkened, the day in which the faith is sealed underground — all this is but for a day! The day of the tomb does not have the final word, for in the morning, there is Easter joy.

The next time your loyalty to the One true God is turned away by a big bag of money, or a big bag of wind - remember! - the tomb does not have the final word, for in the morning, there is Easter joy.

The next time your affections are turned away from the Great Love toward little and hollow loves of fleeting pleasure and false relief - remember! - the tomb does not have the final word, for in the morning, there is Easter joy.

And the next time the forces of death and decay start heckling in the back of your head, the next time you hear them telling you there is no hope, no future, no use - remember! - the tomb does not have the final word, for in the morning, there is Easter joy.

And in the footsteps of the One who leads into the truth, who offers us the meaning and satisfaction in life for which we are made, who offers us hope beyond the grave, St. Paul’s words are the right ones:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Parts in the Sweet Song of Grace - Sermon - Lent 1, February 10, 2008 - Fr. Dean

2008-02-10T14:39:00.001-08:00

As a child, growing up on the farm in Saskatchewan, the water we drank did not come from the tap. It was good enough for washing and cleaning, but not clean enough to drink. We got our drinking water from an underground spring, drawn from a well. The well was about a hundred yards north of the house, and usually once a day, Mom or Dad or one of us as me and my sisters grew older and stronger, carried an empty water pail to the well, pumped it full from an old iron pump, and carried the clear, fresh water back to the house for the family to drink.

It was a trip made almost every day. So often that there was a dirt path to the well pounded nearly as hard as concrete. Because every day, one, two or three sets of feet pounded over it.

One spring, my second and younger sister, a little girl at the time, was given some sunflower seeds which she was determined to plant. You know where she planted them. She planted them where we told her they had no chance of growing. She planted them where we told her that work boots, rubber boots, and running shoes would trample them every day. She planted them in ground we told her was too hard and too packed to be of any use. She planted them on the path from the house to the well. And about three weeks later, you know what the rest of us did for the rest of that spring, summer and fall. We walked around her confounded sunflower which grew up strong and tall right in the middle of that rock hard path to the drinking water well.

Bishop Tom Wright says that listening to the New Testament is like listening to the harmony of a song. He uses an interesting example. Have you ever played the game where you hum the melody of a song, and a friend tries to guess the name of the song? Or have you ever tried humming - not the melody - but the bass part, or the tenor’s part, or the alto’s part, and tried to guess the name of the song?

The good news of Jesus Christ is like the melody of the song we sing, but there are several parts that we must hear, before we can hear it fully and understand it well.

For Christians, the melody line is Jesus Christ - his life, teaching, healing, suffering, death and resurrection. And even on its own, it is pretty good music. The sweet song of God’s Son, who lived simply without even a pillow for his head. Who taught the word of the Lord to common people. Who gave sight back to the blind. Who offered friendship and mercy to the used and abused.

It is a pretty sweet song.

But like a great church bell, tolling in the background, this glorious song has ever so much more to offer when we listen to its bass part in the Old Testament.

This is what Bishop Wright emphasizes as we read this passage from Romans, chapter five. But let me tease you now. He ends by reminding us of a surprising part in the middle this song is intended to sound.

This passage describes two imbalances. First, and as it is put in verse 15, grace is not like sin. Sin brings death. There’s no surprise. That’s what sin does.

But grace brings life, and it does so even in those circumstances where death appears to reign.

When a ninety-nine year old man and a hundred year old woman - tired out, worn out and barren - are given the promise of a child through whom the mercy of God will wash over the world - what chance is there?

When a beaten up band of slaves are chased by the best army in Egypt to the edge of a broiling sea - and promised to get through that Red Sea and turned into God’s people out in a desolate wilderness - what chance is there?

When a people are crushed and humiliated and taken from the promised land into exile in a foreign land, with the promise that they will be restored, and God will keep the promises he makes - what chance is there?

And when the Messiah promises to lead his followers to glory, over the trampled path that heads straight to the cross on Golgotha - what chance is there?

But grace brings life. And it brings it where all hope seems lost. It brings it where death reigns.

The grace of God, says Bishop Wright, “is nothing short of new creation, creation not merely out of nothing but out of . . . death itself.” ("Romans", Interpreter’s Bible, 2002, p. 528).

Which is related to the second imbalance Paul describes.

That is, plainly and explicitly, grace does what it does after many trespasses. Adam’s sin, and the human rebellion and strife which followed, has been with us since the beginning of time. But the grace of God, revealed to us uniquely in Jesus Christ, came after many trespasses, after the soil of the human heart had been trampled on and beaten down many times, over countless generations. But just as the hand of God can put dead Lazarus back on his feet, the grace of God in Jesus Christ can put a new heart in our chests.

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! (2 Co 5:17)

Hopelessness is a terrible thing. And there are times when we become hopeless. When we have been hurt, betrayed and disappointed. When we have hurt, betrayed and disappointed - and done it more than once - to ourselves, our loved ones, our Creator. And the question sneaks in. What hope is there for me? No doubt there’s hope for the good ones, the strong ones and the brave ones. But what hope is there for me?

But Jesus Christ loved the trampled ones, like the woman who bathed his feet in luxurious oil. Jesus Christ loved the weak ones, like the sick man lowered from the roof by his desperate friends. Jesus Christ loved the crooked ones, like Peter who broke his solemn vow.

This is the grace that enters the scene and does its work after many trespasses. This is the grace that bursts through the hard and trampled terrain of our hearts and of our world.

And finally, let me note for you one unexpected contrast.

In verse 17, Paul describes the reign of sin, the power of death in our world caused by human sinfulness and rebellion. And he begins there in order to point to the new thing that has come into being which outweighs and overpowers sin and death. What do you think that new thing is? What do you think that new power is?

The obvious answer would be the power of God and the reign of Christ. That, we would guess, is what offsets the power and reign of sin. But if you can hear the tolling of the Old Testament, you might guess what Paul actually says. The new thing God has created is the new thing God has been intent on from the time he made a promise to Abraham. ‘I will make you a holy people a nation of priests and you shall be a blessing to all nations.”

As Paul puts it here, how “much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace [reign] in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.” (Ro 5:17) God’s solution is a people.

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. (1 Pe 2:9)

And that part, says Bishop Wright, is our part in the sweet song of grace. Our part here in the worship of God, joined with brothers and sisters by grace, experiencing God’s peace now, looking forward to God’s peace in all the world, receiving by word and sacrament the nourishment we need and the hope that God offers to break through trampled ground.

Our part in the serious study of the Scriptures and the faith passed down to us. God is renewing the world. God is restoring all creation. And it is in the whole counsel of Scripture that we hear all of the sweet song of grace.

And our part in service with the mighty and surprising power at work in Jesus Christ, which lifted him out of the grave and vindicated him before all the world - the power at our disposal - to serve, to heal, to bring peace and to restore.

Do you want to sing your part?

Of the one who favored a beaten people, who took them from slavery, and in the purifying
wilderness made them to stand erect (Lev. 26.13).

Do you want to sing your part?

Of the one who reached out - to the woman with the issue of blood, to the lepers outside the city gates, to the dying criminal pleading at his side.

Do you want to sing your part?

Of the new creation God is making out of old souls, and trampled hearts and dry bones.
For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— (Eph 5:8)

This is the sweet song of grace:
. . . the melody of Jesus Christ that reached out and touched us;
. . . the bass line of God’s purposes from the time of creation, intent on the redemption of the world through the creation of a redeemed people;
. . . and our part, new creatures by God’s grace, given the strength of Jesus Christ himself to heal, to serve and to restore, and the hopeful song of all creation’s redemption on our lips.

Do you want to sing your part in the sweet song of grace? As we begin our Lenten journey, let us offer our hearts and lives for that very thing. Amen.

Live in Joy - December 30, 2007 - Fr. Dean Mercer

2008-02-05T05:10:00.000-08:00

sermon: Live In Joy
St. Paul's L'Amoreaux, December 30, 2007

After my grandfather retired from working in his autobody shop in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, he took up a number of hobbies - picture framing, rock collecting and polishing, and, a little later, the construction of grandfather clocks. Among the many tools that my grandfather had downstairs in his workshop was a little wood lathe.

Well, one time I wanted to make a candlestick. Grandpa and I found a piece of wood, fastened it to the plate of the lathe, and then turned on the motor and began to carve.

At first the piece was rough and of an uneven shape. But gradually, as the sawdust sprayed up and around us, we were able to round off this rough old piece of wood and begin developing the shape we wanted. Once the general shape was reached, different tools, and even files and sandpaper were applied to make it shiny and smooth.

It was exhilarating to watch. First, we carved out a cone at the top to hold the candle, then a long, narrow stem. Then that was widened out at the bottom into a smooth base.
However, when we had almost completed the entire candlestick, I chipped the base. Either I had tried to carve too deeply, or it chipped when we tried to saw it off from the stock of wood.
It was very disappointing. I wanted to try and glue the broken piece back on, or just leave it as it was, because it had taken so long, and so much work. But my grandfather insisted on something else.

He took the candle-stick which I had broken and cut the base right off. Then he found another piece of wood of a completely different kind but with markings which matched the broken piece. He applied glue, clamped the two pieces together and told me to come back in a couple days. When I returned, we fastened the repaired wood to the lathe and began again. The outcome was more spectacular than the original. In fact, the two different pieces came to look as if they were one, with a lovely colour and design.

The tension at Christmas, in light of the great darkness that we experience in the world, begins with the fact that so much of Christmas is achingly beautiful:

. . . the Magi moving solemnly toward Bethlehem under the guidance of a brilliant star;
. . . the deep and majestic rhythm in the background as the history of Israel itself is remembered - a Son of David, promised by the prophets, enroute in and out of Egypt;
. . . and the discovery of a child, before whom, in great joy, the travellers would bow.

In his Christmas address, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams[1], reminded us of the poetry of St. John of the Cross. St. John of the Cross is best known for his description of hard times in discipleship and his description of the 'dark night of the soul'. But he also composed a series of poems on the topic of Christmas joy.

In them, St. John imagines the happiness of the persons of the Trinity bubbling over in the loving desire to extend the joy they experience to others who would know it and respond in kind. If you can imagine the three persons of the Trinity, God is seeking to create a bride for his Son. And so God does so by creating humanity and the world, with all its beauty and variety. And that world waits. Waits for the coming of the groom. Waits to be reunited. And when the groom finally arrives on Christmas, tears pour out.

The Archbishop notices two things.

First, the tears are tears of joy - first and foremost, because God came into the world not to save, but to be united with creatures who love and share his joy. As he puts it:

We are right to think about the seriousness of sin . . . but we see it properly and in perspective only when we have our eyes firmly on the greatness and unchanging purpose of God=s eternal plan for the marriage of heaven and earth.

It is a perspective that is necessary when our own sins or those of a failing and suffering world fill the horizon for us, so that we can hardly believe the situation can be transformed.
For if God's purpose is what it is, and if God has the power and freedom to enter our world and meet us face to face, there is nothing that can destroy that initial divine vision of what the world is for and what we human beings are for.

Nothing changes, however far we fall; if we decide to settle down with our failures and give way to cynicism and despair, that is indeed dreadful ‑ but God remains the same God who has decided that the world should exist so that it may enter into his joy.

Secondly, the variety of the world, its great vistas and its narrow ledges, what St. John of the Cross called the 'composed world of infinite differences', is deliberate. Or, as the Archbishop puts it more simply, God has made this world as it is for us to grow and mature and become more like what God intends. And before all else, this varied world, and the infinitely mysterious people we come upon, should summon from us reverence and thanksgiving.

There is a great scene in the third volume of The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien - and it is almost completely missing from the movie. After all their adventures and the danger they faced, the little hobbits can finally come home. But upon arriving home, their land is still dominated by gangsters who were part of the reason they had originally been sent out on their great mission. But, now, in comparison to all they had just come through, it was relatively easy work to face the bullies and bring the same peace to the shire that was now extending throughout the land.
Returning home, the hobbits are different. They are mature, brave and strong in ways they had never been before.

Why is the world the way it is? To begin with, and simply, that is for God. And we would have to be greater and wiser than God to propose a different one. But what we know in this world of both tears and beauty, is that the pieces and the people are intended to come together. And in that great movement, the world is the place where we become what God intends. As Archbishop Williams puts it:

The whole point of creation is that there should be persons, made up of spirit and body, in God's image and likeness, to use the language of Genesis and of the New Testament, who are capable of intimacy with God ‑ not so that God can gain something but so that these created beings may live in joy.

And Gods way of making sure that this joy is fully available is to join humanity on earth so that human beings may recognise what they are and what they are for.

On this day, as we celebrate the baptism of Nyree, we can think of the challenges and the difficulties and the dangers ahead. But let us begin with - and may we never forget - the beauty of this little child and her life, the shards of glory in our world which surround us all, and God's overflowing joy into which he desires us to enter and share.

[1]www.anglicancommunion.org/acns/news.cfm/2007/12/25/ACNS4357.

Sermon: Transformation, Timing & Triump - by David Puttock, Layreader

2008-02-05T04:26:00.000-08:00

February 3, 2008, Last Sunday after Epiphany (Year A), Matthew 17:1-9

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. (Psalm 19:14)

I wonder how many of you ever watched “Sesame Street” – perhaps with your children or your grandchildren. If you did, then you’ll understand me when I announce that today’s homily is brought to you by the letter “T”. Certainly the central theme of today’s Gospel reading is the “T” word - Transfiguration. But I also propose to you three more “T” words that help us to understand today’s message. They are Transformation - Timing - and Triumph.

Let us start with Transformation. The words transformation and transfiguration are closely related. The word translated here as “transfigured” is in the Greek text “metemorphothe” – from which we get the word “metamorphosis”. But, when used elsewhere in the New Testament, the word is usually translated as “transformed”. And I feel the word “transformation” helps us to better understand the message.

But let us start with the Transfiguration of Jesus. It is a totally mysterious and unique event. What is happening here ? How do we comprehend it ?

The narrative is quite straightforward. Jesus goes up on the mountain with three of his disciples, Peter, James and John. Six days before, in a crucial moment of revelation, Peter has declared Jesus to be the Messiah (Matthew 16:16). Now on the mountain top Peter’s declaration is confirmed in that Jesus is glorified as the Messiah by God the Father. His face is suddenly illuminated like the sun. His clothes become dazzling white. To the disciples, his form and countenance are transformed from human to divine. This brilliance is not a reflection of his Father’s glory. It is authentically his own. The whiteness of his clothes suggests the robes of the Great High Priest. Then in a spell-binding scene that brings together the major elements of God’s covenant with his people, we glimpse the coming together of the Word (who is Jesus), the Law (which is represented by Moses) and the Prophets (represented by the great prophet, Elijah). Hereupon, Peter speaks some very Peter-like comments. And then a bright cloud overshadows the scene and the voice of God is heard in awesome affirmation of Jesus and his ministry. At this the disciples fall to the ground in fear. Jesus helps them to their feet with words of re-assurance. By then everyone has gone and the event is over.

Whenever we read scripture, we also search for meaning. How does the transfiguration event apply to us in our daily lives ? What is to be our “transfiguration” experience ? Searching for an answer takes us to those other places in the New Testament where the word is used. For example, Paul writes to the Romans (12:2): “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” In other words, pursue a life that is set apart from the ways of the world. This is a life that is focused on worship and prayer, study and service; a life that shows to others an example of Christ-like living. And the more we practise these things, the more we may be able to say with confidence what Paul writes to the Corinthians (2 Corinthians 3:18). “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” So, then, what are we being transformed into ? What are we becoming ? Quite simply, we are being transformed into the likeness of Christ. That is our transformation.

Now for the second “T” word – Timing.

The Rev. Bryan Findlayson, a priest in the Anglican Church of Australia, and founder of a useful teaching resource called Pumpkin Cottage Publications, has described the transfiguration as “a momentary taste of future glory in the sea of struggle.” The key word is “momentary”. It is a moment in time.

The timing of the transfiguration is critical for Jesus. It comes at a crucial moment in his ministry. The stunning illumination of his presence and the affirmation of his divinity through the voice of His Father prepare Jesus for the final journey to Jerusalem. Jesus has to go down the mountain and take a difficult road. It will be a road of ups and downs. At first the path will be lined by adoring supporters but they will eventually end up siding with Jesus’s detractors and enemies. It will be a road strewn with palm leaves but the cries of “Hosanna !” will prove to be hollow. Ultimately the road leads up to another hill, to a place called Calvary, to a place of suffering, humiliation and death on the Cross. We will come to that place later.

The timing is important because this experience is intended to equip Jesus with the strength and affirmation and encouragement to go on with his ministry to its conclusion. It is, as it were, God’s seal of approval. In God’s timing the transfiguration experience is necessary and it is precisely at this point in time that it is necessary.

On the other hand, the timing does not work out so well for Peter. He wants to stay on the mountain top. He feels exhilarated to be there with Jesus and Elijah and Moses. He wants to build little huts for them so that they can all live there together happily ever after. But Peter’s timing is all wrong. This is not what God intends. This is not God’s timing. Worse yet he dares to imagine that the Son of God and Moses and Elijah could be confined to ramshackle man-made dwellings. It is not meant to be. No wonder that Peter’s wishful thinking is very abruptly cut short by the voice of God with His booming commandment: “Listen to Him !”.

Poor Peter ! Ultimately he too has to go down the mountain. He still has a very long and hard road to travel. Peter also will suffer many things and eventually die for his faith before he ever tastes this kind of glory again.

So it is with us and our mountain-top experiences. They cannot last for ever. We may try to stop the hands of time in the hope of capturing moments of euphoria. But this is in vain, because time marches on. Eventually we too have to go down the mountain and face the frustrations and squabbling and pettiness of everyday life. Again, to quote Bryan Findlayson,

“We must travel the narrow way in Christ, move through struggle to eternity . . .
The struggle is the struggle of life. It is not the journey of high-minded self-imposed asceticism - rather it is the tedious, frustrating, lonely, questioning, doubting, quietly desperate . . . business of life. This is the journey we undertake to reach glory, a journey shaped by the Word of God and all the time agitated by it. There is no short-cut.”

We have to move on from the “momentary taste of future glory” to that “sea of struggle”.

They say timing is everything. Yes, God’s timing is everything - our timing isn’t.

And so we come to the third “T” word. This is Triumph.

Note that we began this season of Epiphany with the light of a star that reveals the coming of Jesus into this world. On this last Sunday after Epiphany we read about the brilliant light transfiguring the form of Jesus and revealing him as the Son of God. Both are examples of how God breaks into our world through Jesus Christ. These are examples of the triumph of the glory of God.

There is no doubt about it. The whole transfiguration event is simply permeated with an air of triumph. The brilliance of light ! The coming together of the Law and the Prophets with the Word. The authoritative voice of God. What a spectacle ! What majesty ! Shock and awe, we might say today ! All around lies a comforting assurance that God is in control and all is right with the universe. As for the bothersome world below, it seems non-existent ! Yes, for a time, a palpable sense of triumph rules over this mountain top scene.

But there is a different kind of triumph to come. A more sombre triumph won at great cost. For a while my mind wandered to another mountain where Jesus goes with his disciples - to the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. There too he calls out his three favoured disciples, Peter, James and John, to come forward and keep watch with him a while - which they did not do !! Funny, isn’t it, how Peter says nothing about wanting to stay and build huts there !! Well, the contrast between the Mount of Transfiguration and the Mount of Olives is interesting but I missed the most obvious contrast.

So here I acknowledge Bishop Tom Wright, in his commentary “Matthew for Everyone”, who takes this idea a giant step further and delivers a contrast that packs a truly powerful effect. Consider this !

“The scene at the Transfiguration offers a strange parallel and contrast with the crucifixion. Here, on the mountain, Jesus is revealed in glory – at Calvary, he is revealed in shame. Here, his clothes are shining white – at Calvary, his clothes are stripped from him and soldiers gamble for them. Here, he is flanked by Moses and Elijah, two of Israel’s greatest heroes, representing the Law and the Prophets – at Calvary, he is flanked by two criminals, representing the depth to which Israel had sunk in rebellion against God. Here, a bright cloud overshadows the scene – at Calvary, darkness falls upon the land. Here, Peter blurts out how good it all is – at Calvary, he is nowhere to be seen for he is hiding in shame after denying he even knows Jesus. Here, the voice of God Himself affirms his Son with love and joy - at Calvary, it is left to a pagan soldier to declare: ‘Truly, this man was the Son of God !’ ”

Both events - the transfiguration and the crucifixion - are examples of triumph. We have to recognize the glory of God through Jesus Christ in both these events. It is easy to see the triumph in Jesus, illuminated in divine radiance and splendour on the Mount of Transfiguration. It is harder to see the triumph in Jesus, broken and despised on the Cross at Calvary. Yet by his death Jesus bore the full weight of our sins and he triumphed over sin and death itself. On the cross the power of sin is broken. And we are set free !

So to conclude – the triumph of Jesus’s life and death inspires us to seek transformation into his likeness – and all in accordance with God’s plan and timing.

Transformation – Timing – Triumph: these are the three “T” words that help us understand the meaning of the Transfiguration.

Sermon: 'Beloved Son'

2008-01-13T14:56:00.000-08:00

Matthew 3:13-17
Baptism of the Lord, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, January 13, 2008

A little over a year ago, near Nickle Mines, Pennsylvania, Charles Roberts carried his guns and rage into a one-room Amish schoolhouse. Determined to even a score with God, Roberts quickly made good on his commitment. As police surrounded the building, he opened fire on ten young female hostages, killing five of them.

The contrast between Roberts’s actions and the peaceful rural landscape made the Nickel Mines school shooting a dramatic story, but even more so was the Amish community's response: forgiveness, extended to the killer’s family within hours.

Horrified strangers worldwide sent over $4 million to the Amish settlement for a people who have no insurance. But the people used the gifts for more than medical bills. They gave shares to local emergency services that came to their aid and, in a move that caught the world’s imagination, to the widow and children of the man who murdered their daughters.

Coverage of their acts of forgiveness and reconciliation in the face of unspeakable horror and grief quickly overwhelmed coverage of the murders. Suddenly people were asking profound questions about a culture known more for its rejection of cars, television and other trappings of
modern life than for its ideals.

Miroslav Volf, director of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture at Yale Divinity School, believes the events occurred at a crucial cultural moment. "It came at a time when, rightly or wrongly, religion was in the news but not in a way that was flattering . . . [but in ] the midst of all this ... you suddenly have this prominent case where it is shown in a very different, positive light."

The evening of the shootings, Amish elders went to console the wife and three young daughters of Mr. Roberts and to the home of his parents to say they held no grudges. Later on, dozens of Amish, including some whose children he had murdered, attended Mr. Roberts' burial and offered condolences to his widow. One report indicated that more than half of those in attendance at the burial were Amish.

There are two aspects of our gospel lesson that I’d like you to notice. The Bible says, “As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him.”

The first thing is the mention that Jesus “went up out of the water”, and a reference, in the singular, to Jesus alone seeing the Spirit descend like a dove. We suppose from this that Jesus had taken a step or two away from John the Baptist and others who may have been there and that it was also Jesus, alone, who heard the voice which said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

It appears that Jesus alone saw and heard the heavenly vision. In the rest of Matthew’s gospel, there is uncertainty and confusion about the identity of Jesus. Later, even John the Baptist has his doubts.

Following his baptism, the Gospel of Matthew describes a life of continuous conflict for Jesus. Conflict with his disciples who can’t seem to understand the implications of what he is saying. And conflict with the authorities who understand enough of the implications for their lives that they want him killed.

The ministry of Jesus often put him in a lonely spot, with all around him staring at him in confusion, doubt or hatred. In a small way, the preparation for that begins at the baptism itself.
But here’s the second thing to notice.

It is likely that the voice from heaven is calling to mind other similar passages from scripture.
A passage from Genesis, when God said to Abraham, “Take your son, your only son,” and offer him as a sacrifice.

The promise from Psalm 2 about the king God would send his people, descended from the great king David: ‘You are my Son; today I have become your Father’” (Ps. 2:7).

But here is a third and key passage, and one I’d like you to notice. It is a passage from Isaiah 42: “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight” (Is. 42:1). This comes from one of four songs in Isaiah describing a servant who will save through his suffering. Israel trusted God and his promises to Abraham. Israel expected a king. Israel expected a servant. But no one expected a king who would serve by giving his life! (Mt. 12.18-21).

As one scholar (Jack Kingsbury) has put it, together, these several passages combine in Matthew 3:17 to form a solemn affirmation in which God declares that Jesus is his unique and only Son. That Jesus is the Messiah and King from the line of David. And, surprisingly and dramatically, that this Messiah will reign on the road of the suffering servant foreseen by Isaiah.
As followers of this king, God has not called us to charm people into the kingdom through the glory of earthly kings and queens. Instead, we have been called to the patient, persistent, persevering ministry in the footsteps of Jesus Christ. Ministering to the poor and needy. Healing the sick. Comforting the discouraged. Offering God’s forgiveness and mercy. And building the kingdom of God among all people and in all nations of the earth.

I know in your various capacities as professionals at work, parents at home, students in school and university, there are times when you wonder what it all means. When you wonder what difference can my simple life make in this fix that I find myself? When you feel the loneliness of the Christian mission under the sad clouds of this world’s hatred and violence.

But Jesus’ words are true. We are not alone. We have Jesus before us and the company of his followers, together with whom we walk and serve.

And the glory we saw and the voice we heard at our baptism was not our eyes playing tricks. It was trustworthy and true. And in the footsteps of Jesus, we have been called to carry on the kingdom work of Christ on earth.

Over the holiday I read an interview with Bishop Tom Wright, a noted biblical scholar and one of the pre-eminent bishops in the Anglican Church. He was asked, what difference does the cross and Christ’s self-sacrificing life make.

“The cross,” he said, “is not just an example to be followed; it is an achievement to be worked out, put into practice. But it is an example nonetheless, because it is . . . the model for what God now wants to do by his Spirit in the world, through his people. It is the start of the process of redemption, in which suffering and martyrdom are the paradoxical means by which victory is won.

So where does forgiveness fit in, he was asked.

“Some people believe,” he said, “that when it comes to forgiveness, you just draw a line and forget it even though it’s tough and messy. But this is too simple . . . Whether we are dealing with international relations or one-on-one personal relations, evil must be named and confronted. There must be no sliding around it, no attempt—whether for the sake of an easy life or in search of a quick fix—to present it as if it wasn’t so bad after all. Only when that has been done, when both the evil and the evil doer have been identified as what and who they are—can there be the second move towards . . . the one who has deeply hurt and wounded us or me.
“If I have named the evil, and done my best to offer genuine forgiveness and reconciliation, then I am free to love the person even if they don’t want to respond.”

He was asked to offer an example and he mentioned the Amish of Nickle Mine.

“The point of following Jesus,” says Bishop Wright, “isn’t simply so that we can be sure of going to a better place than this after we die.”

Our future beyond death is enormously important, but the nature of the Christian hope is such that it plays back into the present life. We’re called, here and now, to be instruments of God’s new creation, the world-put-to-rights, which has already been launched in Jesus and of which Jesus’ followers are supposed to be not simply beneficiaries but also agents.

“And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased’ (Matthew 3:16-17).

This is our king. Let us follow him today and in the days ahead. Amen.

Sermon: "Decisive Intervention"

2007-12-24T19:21:00.000-08:00

sermon: Decisive Intervention

St. Paul=s L=Amoreaux, Christmas Eve, 2007

You may have seen the movie, Bridge Over the River Kwai about Ernest Gordon, a British officer taken captive during WWII in a Japanese prisoner of war camp who, with the other prisoners, was put to work building the Burma-Siam railway. The movie tells of the brutal conditions they endured and their accomplishments in those circumstances. In 1963, Gordon wrote the book ATo End All Wars@ which gives a little fuller account of what happened.

Ernest Gordon should never have survived. With the other soldiers, but contrary to the Geneva Convention due to his standing as an officer, Gordon was put to work on the jungle railway. The railway was intended for a possible attack on India. Because of disease, malnourishment and exhaustion, it is estimated that nearly 400 men died for every mile of railway. Gordon himself succumbed to a combination of worms, malaria and diptheria. He lost the sensation and all use of his legs. Food and water gushed through his nose rather than down his throat. At this low point he asked to be taken to a part of the camp where they were leaving the dying to expire.

Gordon was so weak, he didn=t even have the strength to shoo the flies and bugs which crawled all over him. He mustered just enough strength to write one last letter to his mother and then lay down to die.

Little did Gordon know, however, that something had happened in the camp. The camp he had known had been one of survival of the fittest and every man for himself. Theft had been rampant, officers hoarded what little extra they received, each eyed the other with vulture-like attention.

But something was astir.

In the case of Ernest Gordon, two fellow prisoners came and pleaded with the guards for permission to take him to an elevated hut constructed just for him. There they and others brought extra rations, nursed his wounds and massaged his immobile legs. They sold watches and other valuables for medicine. Slowly, Ernest Gordon regained his strength.

On his feet again, Gordon watched how the transformation in the camp deepened and continued. Soldiers began looking out for each other. When one died, the others now buried him honourably and the place in the ground was marked with a cross. Among them, a range of talent existed and a prison camp university emerged. Gordon taught philosophy, another taught mathematics, another history, Latin, Russian and Sanskrit, and so on. As the philosopher, Gordon also became the impromptu chaplain. And it was a simple question that most wanted addressed. How do I prepare to die? From his studies, from the scraps of his Christian faith that he could recall, and from a clarity and focus which the circumstances demanded, Gordon gave what counsel he could and led, as he was able, services of public worship.

And when liberation finally came, the prisoners did not seek revenge on their captors. Rather, they showed kindness to the ones who had cruelly used them.

Why such a change? What had happened to bring about such a transformation in dreadful circumstances like these?

One day equipment was being counted at the end of work and a shovel was reported missing. AWho has it?@ hollered the guard. No one answered.

AAll die,@ screamed the guard, aiming his rifle at the first man in line. AWait,@ one of the prisoners said. AI took it.@

The prisoner stepped forward. The guard set upon him immediately, beating him to the ground, and continuing long after he had died. His fellows carried the corpse away.

But that night, they counted the shovels again. There had not been a theft. There had been a miscount. Every shovel was in its place.

And for the camp it was, as Gordon recorded, the decisive moment when one soldier had remembered: Agreater love has no one than this, than that he lay down his life for a friend.@

Ernest Gordon says: AThere was hatred, but there was also love. There was death, but there was also life. God had not left us. He was with us, calling us to live the divine life in fellowship.@ (From the account in Rumours of Another World, by Philip Yancey, Zondervan, 2003.)

Tonight we remember the events of Jesus= birth, but as the Gospels are want to do, we are reminded what those events mean. That Jesus Christ was God=s decisive intervention in the world.

There=s a great scene in Lord of the Rings. At the cost of his life, the wizard Gandalf stands between his friends and a terrible beast. AYou shall go no further@, he declares to the beast, planting his staff in the path and preventing the beast from advancing further. In Jesus Christ, God planted his staff into the earth, declaring that the forces of hatred, inhumanity and selfishness will not prevail and for those who follow Jesus Christ through the struggle of this life - Athere is death, but there is life. There is hatred, but there is love.@

Before us this evening is a challenge - not unlike the one posed by Moses to the people as they entered the new land. Before you is the way of life and the way of death. Which will you choose? Choose life.

How?

I=ve always liked the simple summary that John Stott makes. We answer the challenge by inviting Jesus Christ into our lives, making him our Saviour and Lord.

What does it mean to make him our Saviour? It is to acknowledge that we are creatures dependent on our Creator. It means to turn away from that which we know to be based on selfish grasping and ambition and turn toward Jesus Christ. It means, as Christians, that we seek the nourishment of the Bible and the Sacraments, and will offer lives lived for the glory of God in return.

What does it mean to make him our Lord - to make him the supreme authority who directs our lives? It means to answer the call of Jesus - follow me. >Let the disciple be like the master,= as the Gospel puts it. It means conforming our lives to the likeness of Jesus Christ. Conforming our minds through Christian study and preparation. Conforming our strength for use as Christian servants. Conforming our souls to make them fit for their reunion with God. And conforming our hearts so that they will bear the fruit of Christ=s spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5.22).

In this world of struggle and tears, God has acted decisively in Jesus Christ. Tonight, let us offer our lives to God and join the life-affirming purposes of Jesus Christ. I urge you to choose life and to give your life to him.

A friend has sent me a beautiful and new Christmas song by Michael Card. It=s final verses are:

Above his dark obscurity,

The light of God has shone

And through the meekness of the lamb

God’s strength would be made known

The just and gentle promised one

Would triumph o’er the fall

And conquer by his own defeat

And win by losing all

It concludes with this phrase, the motto of the Moravian church:

Vicit Agnus noster, eum sequamur - AOur Lamb has conquered; Him let us follow.@

Sermon: "Descendants", Matthew 3.1-12

2007-12-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

Advent II, St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, December 9, 2007

The word ‘brood’ has an overtone in English that I don't think exists in the Greek word which 'brood' is used to translate.

In our lesson today about the people coming to be baptized by John, it says that one group received a tongue-lashing instead.

“Seeing the Pharisees and Sadducees, John said: ‘you brood of vipers.”

There’s no question about the second word ‘viper’. It means a snake that spits poison.

But on its own, brood simply means descendants. We are all brood. We have all descended from parents and grandparents. And in this Gospel, it is a word on which a spot-light shines.

The opening verse of Matthew reads, ‘An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.’ The words for ‘genealogy’ and ‘brood’ come from the same root. And the sixteen verses which follow are the remarkable list of Jesus’ ancestors.

‘Boaz by his mother Rahab.’ Do you remember Rahab? To put it politely, she was a woman of ill-repute. But at the risk of her own life, she protected Joshua and his spies who led the children of Israel into the promised land.

At first, not a likely candidate, but a woman of ill-repute is on the list of Jesus’ ancestors.

It lists ‘Obed by his mother Ruth.’

You know Ruth. A foreigner. Widowed and alone with a mother-in-law who is also widowed. But when the older widow tries to protect the younger one from the grief she had already experienced by leaving home for a foreign land, Ruth replied, ‘Where you go, I will go. Where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people. Your God shall be my God.’

A devoted and dedicated foreigner is on the list of Jesus’ ancestors.

‘Solomon by his mother, the wife of Uriah.’

Now this is interesting. Solomon’s father is David. His mother is Bathsheba but her name is left out. Why? So that the name of her first and murdered husband can be included. Uriah, another foreigner, but the loyal and dedicated captain of an Israelite army who is callously sent to his death by King David who has committed adultery with Bathsheba. Unjustly killed by the King, forgotten by all and left to the ash heap, so it would seem. But the Bible says, he was not forgotten by the Lord. The Bible says, the murder of an innocent and loyal man did not go unanswered, and even the greatest king of Israel must give an account of himself before the Lord.

Uriah is on the list of Jesus’ ancestors.

And finally, the list includes ‘Josiah the father of Jechoniah at the time of the deportation to Babylon.’

This is a bit more complex to follow. But it takes us back to the great promise God made with Abraham, to whom He promised descendants and a family line that would last forever. To whom He promised a people who God would raise up in order to show his love to all the world. A promise, years later, God would extend through the kings of Israel and the throne of David (2 Sa 7:16).

It is a promise that God will keep through even the greatest of obstacles: physical frailty, human wickedness, national degradation, and then horrific division and conquest.

But at the moment when all seems lost, as history’s iron fist slams down hardest upon the people, at a time 600 years before Christ when the nation is conquered and brought to its knees, a little note is added at the end of the book of kings - the life of Jechoniah was spared and he was taken into Babylon.

Just a little note, but its meaning is this - God is keeping his promise! The line of descendants will continue. And in the list of ancestors which Jesus Christ the Messiah completes and fulfills, the name of Jechoniah appears as a testimony to God’s faithfulness when history offers no hope.

It is a magnificent portrait.

God lifts up the simple, sinful and humble in order to demonstrate his love.

God watches over those unjustly treated and vindicates them before the princes and kings of the earth.

God keeps his promises.

And through Jesus Christ the Messiah, son of David and Abraham, God will redeem the world.

And by starting there, with that great line of ancestors from whom the Messiah descends, we can feel the awful force of John the Baptist’s fierce words against the leaders of his time.

You who are meant to be a great light in the world have become a miserly flicker in a corner.

You who are meant to be a blessing to the nations have turned away from all but your own and left the widows and the weak to fend for themselves.

You who are children of the covenant with Abraham have become a brood of vipers!

And here’s what I understand to be the challenge of this passage for us. If we will let him, God will make us, as we are intended to be, His own.

We may see ourselves weak and frail, but God will raise us up and make us his own.

We may see ourselves on the wrong side of history, but God has His own plans for the world and will join us to them.

We may think of ourselves as weak and useless in a foreign land, but God invites us to work for that distant country, better for all.

Out of love unimaginable, Jesus Christ picks up the sinners and gives them love that will not fail, friendship that will not betray, hope that will not fade. Out of love for the world, the Baptist challenges us to straighten our lives and join God’s great and loving mission for the world.

And it is where, I think, we begin. To contemplate the marvel, wonder and beauty of what God intends. For when we see something truly beautiful, and when the hope it inspires shines within us, it will take us a very long ways.

Kathy Barnes told me a great story. Years ago one of her students was a royal terror. Hope for him among any who knew him was slim. Until one weekend, the class took a trip to a country camp. On that afternoon, her little terror came up to her and anxiously and urgently said, “Mrs. Barnes, come with me, quickly.”

Mrs. Barnes immediately thought, “Oh, oh. What classmate lies injured on the ground? What barn now burns in towering flames? What phlanx of police now encircles us outside?”

But out the door she went, following her little scholar forward to a point where he instructed, “Get down on your hands and knees. Don’t say anything, and follow me.”

So, even more uncertain than before, Mrs. Barnes got down on her hands and knees, not knowing why or to where she was crawling, and followed her little friend through the bushes. Until, at the edge of a clearing, they looked up and through to where stood a beautiful herd of wild deer. Sleek, magnificent animals. A breathtaking sight, the little city boy had never seen or experienced in all his life. And for twenty minutes, on their tummies, he and his teacher watched in silent wonder and regard.

Kathy said, “From that moment on, I had his number. I knew that there was more to him than terror and disorder.”

And so, it turns out, did he.

Years later, he found out where she was and came back to see her. It had not been an easy life. He had been in and out of trouble with the law. But he wanted to tell her that he had started straightening things out.

“I haven’t always done the right thing,” he said, “but I realize that what you were telling me was right, and the advice you gave me was good.”

“I’ve done better. I’ve finished high school. And I’m going to do something with my life.”

Kathy discovered later that his mother and siblings were mistakenly and brutally attacked at their home by a deranged neighbour. But when her little scholar heard the news, now a young and independent man, he returned immediately, gathered up the whole lot of them, and moved them into his own home where he knew they would be safe.

To whom do you wish to belong? On whose ancestral list would you like your name to appear? A miserly, poisonous one? Or the lineage of our Saviour and Lord? A motley list, to some eyes: rich and poor, strong and weak, charming and stubborn. But redeemed and being redeemed and being pushed forward to become more and more a light in a dark world.

As St. Paul exhorted the Ephesians:
I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. (Eph 1:17-19)

This Advent season, gaze on the beauty of what God intends. Consider the beauty of our life, the shards of glory in the world, and the mercy which surrounds us. Contemplate the Saviour who has come to redeem and restore it all. Straighten your life so that you can serve him wholeheartedly. And prepare yourself for the coming of the Lord.

Sermon: Staying Awake, Matthew 24.36-44

2007-12-02T04:36:00.000-08:00

Advent I, St. Paul's L'Amoreaux, December 2, 2007

When I was a boy, a pair of new, leather goalie pads kicked off the beginning of Advent. The glossy picture of those hockey pads in the sports section of the Eaton’s Christmas Catalogue, on the pages just after a very large toy section, battled for with my two sisters on the living room floor in our farm house in the third week of September, was what kicked it off. We didn’t call it Advent. We didn’t give it a formal name. We just knew that there was a season to prepare for Christmas. And it started in the third week of September.

Partly because that’s when the Eaton’s Christmas Catalogue arrived. Partly because the crisp winter weather we’re tasting this weekend, could be enjoyed as early as September on our farm in Saskatchewan. Partly because some of the things we did at Christmas had to start early - Christmas letters overseas, treats from Toronto which took a month to order and receive. And partly because the combination of a stark, darkening prairie landscape combined with Christmas promises was intoxicating. It grabbed us by the heart and tightened its grip for three months.

While I know that memories have tumbled into each other, I remember a familiar ascent to Christmas Day - the first snow covering the prairie with a blanket you could see for miles; the first freeze that turned outdoor ponds into hockey rinks; the first Christmas pageant practice and parts we began to memorize; distant magical parades we watched on television early on a Saturday morning; and one great 60 mile trip to the city of Regina in our rickety little Ford Fairlane, where we rode the only escalator in the province with as much excitement as might ride the space shuttle, and where we wandered the store aisles wide-eyed at shelves stocked full of Christmas treats.

And I can remember the final few days in December of consecutive pageants, parties and preparation. It won’t surprise you, that nothing reminds me more of Christmas than the taste and smell of cherry cough drops. It was the one reprieve I came to expect - knocked out of the ring by a day or two of coughing, flu and fever - but back in it as soon as physically possible.

And so, it may or may not surprise you how I sometimes felt on Christmas Day itself.

One year Christmas landed on a Sunday. That evening, as was our custom, we were in church. At the end, at the back, crying and clutching my mother’s legs, a friend came up to ask what was the matter.

"It wasn’t quite what he expected," she answered.

Wasn’t quite? It wasn’t close! This was a buildup for a moon landing. For a visit from the Queen and all the royal family! For a very large chest of gold.

It wasn’t quite what was expected.

William Willimon, Bishop in the United Methodist Church, has this great line. Our trouble at Christmas is not that we don’t believe God can deliver. People who believe the advertising that meaning in life can be found if you buy a Lexus have the capacity to believe that God can deliver. What’s hard to believe is that what God had to deliver was Jesus Christ. Because what he gives is not always, on first glance, what we want. Our lives put straight. Our relationships put right. Our angry, divided world reordered and shown light.

We have become confused, believing that Christmas is primarily about gifts and cheerful thoughts falling on us all like snowflakes and things fairly far removed from the world we know and the lives we live.

We have neglected what God has given us in Jesus Christ, and we do this by busying ourselves with the decorations rather than the gift.

And we have misdirected and given up on those deep longings within us, which can lead us to the treasure that God has intended.

And that is why the church prepares us for Christmas, whether we like it or not, through the much older and solemn season of preparation called Advent. The season starting today, directing us to the treasure for which we’re intended, clearing our eyes so that we can see it, and strengthening our hearts to find it.

Last week, Pope Benedict released his second encyclical or ‘letter’ since becoming Pope. It is entitled "On Hope", and in it he describes three areas in which we nurture Christian hope.

The first area is prayer. And I like this. He writes:

Saint Augustine, in a homily on the First Letter of John, describes very beautifully the intimate relationship between prayer and hope. He defines prayer as an exercise of desire. Man was created for greatness - for God himself; he was created to be filled by God. But his heart is too small for the greatness to which it is destined. It must be stretched. "By delaying [his gift], God strengthens our desire; through desire he enlarges our soul and by expanding it he increases its capacity [for receiving him]". Augustine refers to Saint Paul, who speaks of himself as straining forward to the things that are to come (cf. Phil 3:13). He then uses a very beautiful image to describe this process of enlargement and preparation of the human heart. "Suppose that God wishes to fill you with honey [a symbol of God's tenderness and goodness]; but if you are full of vinegar, where will you put the honey?" The vessel, that is your heart, must first be enlarged and then cleansed, freed from the vinegar and its taste. This requires hard work and is painful, but in this way alone do we become suited to that for which we are destined.

This Advent, I urge you to pray. Join it to the discipline of fasting. For those of you who hear the word ‘prayer’ and think of something soft or silly, may I put it another way. A way that even an army general would take seriously. In these distracting, confused times, I hope you’ll stop, look and listen, with our Lord as your companion.

Secondly, the Pope recommends a purposeful movement toward action and suffering. That is, to serve others, and to serve even when we may suffer because of it. If you decide to serve a child who has been hurt, you may be hurt. If you decide to work for peace in a family dispute, you may be hurt. If you decide to serve a beleaguered young mother or a bewildered new immigrant, you may be hurt. For those reasons, a great many of us choose not to serve at all. But one of the clearest lessons from those queer Gospel passages about rumours of war and living in times of turmoil is that we are not intended to escape them. Accompanied by Jesus Christ, we must prepare to live through them.

And as the Pope says:
We can try to limit suffering, to fight against it, but we cannot eliminate it. It is when we attempt to avoid suffering by withdrawing from anything that might involve hurt, when we try to spare ourselves the effort and pain of pursuing truth, love, and goodness, that we drift into a life of emptiness, in which there may be almost no pain, but the dark sensation of meaninglessness and abandonment is all the greater. It is not by sidestepping or fleeing from suffering that we are healed, but rather by our capacity for accepting it, maturing through it and finding meaning through union with Christ, who suffered with infinite love.

And finally, we prepare for the coming of Christ by recognizing that our lives stand under judgment. They are, as the Gospel emphasizes today, under a watch.

Our lives mean something. And there will come a time when we will stand, naked and uncovered, before the Lord. But stark as that may seem, do you realize how deep the longing is within us to do just that? How many times do you check the mirror? How deeply do you desire to be seen and accepted as you appear.

That is the lesson from the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man has ruined his life: through pride and arrogance, through excessive and harmful luxury, through the neglect and forgetfulness of others, through a deadening of his capacity to love. But now, in hell, the desire and longing to love is an unquenchable thirst (Lk. 16.19-31)

But our destiny is otherwise, and the Christian warnings of judgement have the hope of redemption as their foundation. Our lives are meant for better. Our lives can be lived for more. Our hearts are meant for better treasure than the false and hollow treats glittering in front of us. And Jesus Christ, out of love unimaginable, has given his life for us and to us for that reason.

Our Gospel lesson urges us to ‘stay awake’. Let it be the refrain in our hearts and minds this Advent. In prayer, service, and holy seriousness, let us ask God to clear our eyes in order to see the gift of God in Jesus Christ - and to prepare ourselves for Christmas.

Sermon: Contemplating Time, Luke 21.5-19

2007-11-18T14:37:00.000-08:00

St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, November 18, 2007

In his commentary on our lesson from Luke, Fred Craddock makes a lovely little observation. ‘Calculating the end of time,” he says, “is not the same thing as contemplating the fulfilment of time.’

‘Calculating the end of time is not the same thing as contemplating the fulfilment of time.’

You probably get the point right off. Our responsibility is to understand God’s purpose in the world through prayer and contemplation and to conform ourselves to it. But trying to calculate when the world will end has had great appeal to people and can serve as a tremendous distraction.

When I was a teenager in the 1970’s, with the cold war, the threat of nuclear bombs, and fears of oil and gasoline shortages, there were many prophets warning about the end of time. There were some scoundrels who made millions of dollars off of books and movies they produced, such as The Late, Great Planet Earth. They frightened, confused and discouraged a many people.

And yet when faced with a similar question, Jesus answers his disciples by focussing their attention on the fulfilment of time, rather than the mere end of time. He does so in two ways.

First of all, he says, don’t be fooled. Wars and natural disasters is the way the world is. It is not a special sign of the end.

Secondly, however, times of tumult are purposeful for Christians.

They are times in which the Christian can be a witness.

They are times in which Christians can serve confidently, because no mortal or eternal harm will come to them.

And they are times in which, through endurance, the roots of the Gospel can go further into the Christians heart and character.

‘You will gain your soul,’ says Jesus.

In other words, don’t be distracted by trying to calculate the end of time. Rather, let your mind focus on God’s purposes in time, contemplate what God has revealed in Jesus Christ, let that take root and, having done so, serve boldly and faithfully, just like Jesus Christ.

A few years ago, Joseph Ratzinger, the man who is now Pope Benedict XVI, was asked an interesting and related question. Christianity promises God’s redemption. But we’re now at the beginning of the third millenium since the time of Jesus Christ. Given the wait, and given, specifically, the horrors of the 20^th century, has Christianity actually brought with it salvation or has it, instead, been quite fruitless?

And I liked his answer. First of all, he emphasized a point that the journalist questioning him had glanced over. The last century was not just one of pure horror. In fact, there are now more people alive on earth than ever before, and living for a length of time and at a level of comfort never before imagined.

Christianity has contributed to this, as, from Christian principles, it has motivated the development of democracy, of the rule of law, the arts, tremendous structures of health care and education, and of science itself.

But secondly, said the Pope, God’s redemption of the world is related to human freedom - and God will not annul human freedom in order to bring about his final purposes.

Humans are part of God’s plan of redemption. And humans have the freedom to cooperate - or to refuse, letting the world fall into darkness.

I admired the candor of the Pope.

Redemption or disaster - both are possible. And when God revealed himself to the world in the man who would be handed over and crucified on a cross, he took a risk on whether or not humans would cooperate.

I don’t know why God has taken the form he did in Jesus Christ, says the Pope. Who gave up the power and authority of heaven, and who will only succeed where men and women respond to him from the heart.

I don’t know why has revealed himself in this way. A way in which God has held back power available to him.

But I do know what the alternative has been in the world. When people have turned away from God and to their own devices. It is to use power and violence and force people into line. And its way, too often, has been one of unspeakable cruelty and death.

Our challenge, says the Pope, is to confront the remarkable powers placed in human hands and to measure what can be done by what should be done. We must confront our enormous physical ability with moral discernment. And this can only occur where God is a force and strength within.

The Pope used as an example the ecological movement which rightly protests the outer pollution of the world. And yet, many within the movement have treated the inner pollution of the soul as a fundamental right to be protected. I quote:

Instead of making it possible to breathe humanly again, we defend with a totally false conception of freedom everything that man’s arbitrary desire produces. As long as we [defend] the freedom of inner spiritual self-destruction, its outward effects will continue unchanged . . .The eighth chapter of the Letter to the Romans says this very plainly. It says that Adam, that is, the inwardly polluted man, treats creation like a slave, tramples on it, so that creation groans under him, on his account, through him. And we hear today the groaning of creation as no one has ever heard it before. Paul adds that creation waits for the appearance of the sons of God and will breathe freely when men [and women] appear in whom God shines through - and who only then will be able to breathe again themselves. (Salt of the Earth, Joseph Ratzinger, Ignatius, 1996, p. 231)

A few years ago the story of Wladyslaw Szpilman was brought to the screen in the movie entitled “The Pianist”. Szpilman was a talented, young Jewish and Polish pianist and composer. He had written quite a number of popular songs, including children’s songs, and many loved to listen to him. But during WWII, Szpilman’s family were sent to the Warsaw ghetto where Jews were being held, and then gradually shipped away, later as it became clear, to concentration camps where they met their death. Wladyslaw Szpilman, his parents and his brother and sister, all valiantly struggled to hang on, knowing that their day to be shipped out was soon to come, uncertain and unhopeful of what would come next.

But when the day came, and as the Szpilmans were being crammed onto the train,

one of the policemen grabbed Wladyslaw by the collar, yanked him out of the throng and refused to let him through to rejoin his family on the journey to death.

Szpilman continued to avoid death’s clutches, surviving against all odds, often half-starved and usually alone, hidden in obscure corners of bombed, burned or empty buildings, intermittently helped by Polish friends risking their own lives to bring him food or find him shelter: helping a Jew automatically brought a death sentence (www.szpilman.net).

The strangest twist of all in Szpilman’s story came at its end. He was discovered by a German officer. Szpilman proved his profession to him by playing Chopin’s C sharp minor Nocturne on an abandoned piano. From then on, the German officer hid him and brought him food and a blanket for warmth. In the end, Szpilman would survive, passing away in July, 2000. And the officer who protected him - died in a communist ‘prisoner of war’ camp in 1953.

And as the movie portrayed matters, in the midst of the stifling darkness of Nazism, a family, a people, a city - and even a Nazi soldier - rose to the defense of a brilliant artist. In a violent time, it was a singular tribute to the beauty of a life, and the beauty of the music that one life was able to create.

How do we live in tumultuous times? I like the answer of Jesus. It is not to be spent calculating exact days and minutes. It is not to be spent interpreting the latest war and calamity. It is to be spent contemplating the Saviour we have seen. It is to let that life take deep root within us. And it is to share the light and life of Jesus Christ in the world.

Sermon: Where to Begin, 4 November 2007

2007-11-08T05:38:00.000-08:00

Text: Ephesian 1.15-23
St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, The Feast of All Saints, November 4, 2007

If you were given great power, where would you start? What would you do?

There was a movie a few years ago entitled Karate Kid. About a kid in high school who moved reluctantly with his mother away from his childhood home to another city, moving into a small and ratty apartment while his mother saved for a better place, entering a school awkwardly at mid-term, with no friends to greet him. He didn’t like any of it. And for the fun of it, bullies picked on the new kid.

Pretty miserable, until one day he met an old Japanese man who chased away some bullies who had surrounded him. “You could use some help,” he says.

No one else was showing any interest, and to his surprise, the old Japanese man knew Karate. “I’ll teach you,” he said. “Come and see.”

So he did. The boy practically bounced to the old man’s home, thrilled at the prospect of lessons in karate. “I’m ready to learn."

“Good,” said the old man. “First lesson.

And picking up a block of wood with sandpaper fastened, the old man moved his hand and arm back and forth precisely, first with one hand, then the next. The boy was asked to imitate.

“No problem,” said the boy, and did just as the old man had done.

“Good,” said the old man. “Follow me.”

And opening the door to a brand outdoor deck, he pointed and said, “Sand the whole thing, just like I showed you.”

The boy raised his eyebrow and looked at the old man suspiciously. Bending down he began sanding furiously.

“No, no, no,” said the old man. “Like I showed you.” And so, imitating the same precise motion, the boy spent his free time for the next week, sanding the old man’s deck.

On Saturday, as he finished up, the old man watched the boy and the motion of his hands and arms. “Good,” he said. “Come back Monday.”

The boy came back Monday, glad to be done with the sanding, eager for his first lesson in Karate. The old man picked up a paint brush. “Watch,” he said. And then, very deliberately, very carefully, first with one hand, then the other, the old man stroked the brush up and down. The boy repeated the motion.

“Good,” said the old man. “Follow me.”

And he opened the door to a beautiful new fence that surrounded his large and spacious backyard. “Paint!” said the old man.

“Oh, now, wait a minute,” said the boy. “Paint!” said the old man, firmly.

Frustrated, the boy began painting, flicking the brush up and down, back and forth.

“No, no, no,” said the old man. “Like I showed you.” And again, the old man repeated the same, careful stroke of the brush and flick of the wrist that he had shown him before. “Like that, and no change.”

So the boy spent the next week painting the fence. On Saturday, as he finished up, the old man watched the boy and the motion of his hands. “Good,” he said. “Come back Monday.”

The boy came back, glad the sanding was done, and the painting, and eager for his first lesson in Karate. The old man picked up a large, soft cloth bundle. “Watch,” he said. And then, the old man demonstrated a deliberate, circular motion, first with one hand, then the next. The boy copied.

“Good,” said the old man. “Follow me.”

The old man took the boy outside to the door of a large shed. Opening the doors, the boy’s mouth fell open and he stared in at a row of beautiful vintage sports cars.

The old man handed the boy the cloth and a large tin. “Wax,” he said.

The boy rolled his eyes, and began pushing the cloth over the hood of the car. “No, no, no,” said the old man. “Like this.” And again, the old man repeated the same, deliberate circular motion. “Like that, and no change.”

So, just like he’d been shown, the boy spent his free time for the next week waxing the old man’s collection of vintage sports cars.

But by Saturday, he was furious. Three weeks wasted doing the old man’s chores. And as he came to inspect, he threw the waxing cloth down on the ground and glared at the old man.
The old man glared back and grabbed his wrist.

“I attack you with a punch from the front - you raise your hand like this,” and instinctively, the boy raised his arm and wrist, just as he done, countless times while painting the fence, and with surprising ease, turned back the punch.

“I come from the side - and you move your arm like this,” he said, and again, the boy fell into the motion effortlessly, repeating what he’d done hundreds of times while sanding the deck.

“And I try to strike with both hands, and you turn me away by doing this,” and as the boy circled his hands, as he’d done waxing the cars, he realized what the old man had taught him, he realized the power in these simple actions and his newly disciplined arms, and a smile of satisfaction covered his face.

“Good,” said the old man. “This is where we begin. And now I will show you more.”

There are two words in our lesson from Ephesians that I’d have you notice: ‘power’ and ‘enlightenment’.

The power of God is a constant theme throughout the Scriptures. But it is power for a purpose.
It is the power God displayed, when he chose Abraham and Sarah, an old and childless couple, and demonstrated his power to give life, and with it, a promise of an eternal line who would bring God’s grace to the world.

It is the power God displayed when he looked down on a beleagured band of slaves, bending back the sea in order to free his people for their mission in the world.

It is the power of God, as St. Paul specifies, to open a grave and empty it, in order that the immeasurable love of God might extend from the furthest depths to the greatest heights.
It’s the power which God has let loose in Jesus Christ. And it is that same power that St. Paul says is let loose in the lives of God’s people.

But where do you start with power like that? It’s an intriguing question. And I like how Bishop Tom Wright answers it.

With power like that, we start with ourselves. We start by dealing with our secret sins and in improving our habits of prayers.

What?

Read through Ephesians. See the great purposes for which the Son of God gave his life. Marvel at the hope being offered for every person, regardless of race, wealth or standing. And then look where it begins.

Scrub up, clean up, and shine up. No more lies. No more filthy thoughts. No more favourite vices tucked away in the corner. You’ve been given Jesus Christ. You wrap his life over your life.
And then, he says, ‘Dear God, I hope you can see it.’

This is the purpose of prayer. ‘May your eyes be enlightened,’ are Paul’s words, so that by prayer you can see the hope, the riches and the power that God is presenting you for his purposes in the world.

Have you ever thought, that these are two prayer to which we know, with 100% certainty, what the answer is? All those unanswered prayers, but to these two we know the answers. To the Christian coming to the Lord, asking that God might offer his power so that our hearts might be more like Christ, asking through prayer that our eyes might see more of what Christ saw, the answer, with 100% certainty, is yes.

It may not be easy. Some of us are stubborn.

It may not come instantly. Some of our selfish ways are deeply ingrained. We may need the help of a Christian counsellor or friend.

Things may not be clear to us all at once. We’re used to looking out for ourselves. It takes a while to see others the way Jesus does.

But we know the answer. And we have been offered the means: the power of God to give life, to turn back the floods, to roll back the stone, to conquer death itself. And for those who will ask, this power is offered to us.

And then, as this prayer is made and is being answered, there may be more. It’s always a little more complicated when we pray for others. Their freedom is involved. But with dirt cleaned up, muscles developed, and eyes sharpened, who knows what God might do with a life that’s been offered to him.

Yesterday in the National Post, as, in their own way, they mark the Feast of All Saints, was a feature on Jean Vanier, a Canadian who has founded a world-wide community of homes for those who’ve come into the world with great physical and mental injury. He has a new book and it summarizes his work the message of his life: the love that God offers in Jesus Christ, discovered first and foremost, right under our eyes, among those who are weakest. He sums it up in a sentence: To be human is to share with those who are weak.

One little thing they mentioned, which has always charmed me. He’s been spending the last week in school assemblies, sometimes in front of one and two thousand young people at a time. He doesn’t try to be clever. He doesn’t quote the lyrics of pop songs he’s never heard. He simply tells them of the love of God that begins with the obvious, and then reaches further.

The rooms are packed and the young people listen quietly and respectfully. He’s filled L’Arche homes around the world with bright young people who want more in life than new shoes and shiny cars and their search summons them to serve the weakest ones on earth. Their search brings them to the place where the power of God’s love begins.

If you were given great power, where would you start? We start here, with our own hearts. With our own eyes.

Where will it take us? We may be surprised, but the love of God has the redemption of the world in view.

Sermon: Prayer and the Persistent Widow - Mr. David Puttock, Layreader, St. Paul's L'Amoreaux

2007-10-24T04:22:00.000-07:00

October 21, 2007, Pentecost 21 (Year C), Luke 18:1-8

I am a little puzzled that I should be invited to preach on Seniors Recognition Sunday.

Is it a hint that I am getting older? Is this just a coincidence? What is a senior anyway? What are the qualifications?

Last year, to my surprise, I discovered that - in one place at least – I am already a senior. I went to the AMC cinema at Kennedy Commons. At the ticket office I was asked if I was a senior! Was this an insult - or a joke? Well, I took it in good humour. I asked – what is the age for a senior ? 55 and over was the reply. What a surprise !! So young!! Yet I qualified!! And I thought wistfully of the years of seniors discounts that I had missed!! So I immediately claimed the discount and have shamelessly done so ever since. By the way I tried it at Cineplex Odeon at STC. It didn’t work. The policy there is 65 and over. I still have a few years to go before that!

Anyway you know the old saying – and it’s true – you are only as old as you feel!!

When I read today’s Gospel I fell into a trap. Aha, I thought, how fitting for Seniors Recognition Sunday. It’s a story about old people. There’s this widow. She must be old. And the judge – well, judges are generally old too. In fact one of the commentaries I read refers to him as a “crusty old judge”. But – who says the judge is old? Who says the widow is a senior? Nowhere in the gospel does it say that he or she was old. They could have been comparatively young. The widow certainly has the energy of a young person in pursuing her case with the unjust judge.

The story is quite straightforward . . .

The woman in the parable is a widow. Whatever her age, whatever her status, she is a symbol for – and this is typical in Luke’s Gospel – the poor, defenceless, the marginalized in society.

The other character is the judge. He is corrupt and unjust. Jesus points out that this judge neither fears God nor has any respect for people. Not even a deserving widow is going to get a fair hearing from him.

But, this is no ordinary widow. This woman is bold and confrontational and persistent. Even though her chances of success are next to none, she keeps demanding justice for her case saying, "Grant me justice against my opponent."

For a while, the judge refuses. But, finally, he relents, saying, "I have no fear of God. I have no respect for anyone. But I'm going to do what this woman asks, because she keeps bothering me, and I don't want her to wear me out by continually coming" to me and pestering me.

Note that the Greek word translated here as "wear me out" literally means to "strike under the eye" or to "give a black eye." This phrase presents an intriguing picture of a raging granny letting fly at the judge with her purse or shopping bag.

And so the judge gives in – not out of a sense of justice but in order to avoid the black eye. The black eye may not be realistic but it is quite likely that he gives in to avoid the embarrassment of a very public and possibly humiliating scene with the widow. Something that would rob him of his self-importance and make him look rather foolish in the eyes of the public. He may not care for God or man but he certainly cares about his self-image.

And so through her persistence the widow achieves her goal.

The widow is an example of persistence and faithfulness.

The judge is her unlikely saviour.

We can probably see ourselves as the widow with our prayers and petitions to GOD. But don’t imagine that the crooked judge can be compared with GOD ! No, the judge is to be contrasted with GOD – not compared with Him.

And the lesson is this -- if the crooked judge can be persuaded by the lowly widow and show mercy, then how much more will a just GOD, a loving Father, give to his children out of the goodness of his heart?

So is that the message then? Persistence in prayer pays off?

Well not exactly. True, Jesus tells his disciples clearly up front that this parable is about the need to pray always. But he also tells them – and us - not to lose heart.

Because you don’t always get what you want. You don’t always get what you pray for.

This is not just a parable on how to pray. It is not just a parable on persistence in prayer. There is something deeper about this passage.

It points to the profound importance of prayer and how prayer shapes the profound nature our relationship with GOD.

It is a parable about trusting in GOD to provide for the needs of His people.

In this light, the story of the judge and the widow and how she hounds him into cowering submission seems almost like a light-hearted prelude.

The profound importance of prayer

The wonderful unique thing about prayer is this: it is the medium through which we communicate with GOD. It is a miracle in itself that we can talk directly with GOD and not through some designated intermediary. And in this we take our lead from Jesus Christ who encourages us to talk with GOD and call him Our Father.

And recall the words of St Paul who wrote to the (1st) Thessalonians: “Pray continually !”. Prayer is the medium through which we communicate with God in all times and in all circumstances, through all the seasons of our life, especially the ones that are parched and dry.

Because prayer is not always easy.

Prayer can be hard work, because our prayers for the things we feel we most deeply need are often met with long periods of silence from God. The American theologian and author, Dr Fred Craddock, writes that “prayer is hard work because the human experience is often an experience of waiting in the face of delay”.

Prayer is not like a divine vending machine. Put in your faith. Be sure to put in enough. Pull the lever. Get what you want or what you think you need. No, prayer is more like wrestling, like Jacob, who wrestled and struggled with God, through the long night until the break of day.

I feel we can draw inspiration - not so much from those who boast of a triumphant and successful prayer life and claim to have all the answers but from people who have practised hopeful and confident and persistent prayer in the face of great suffering and God's apparent silence. These are the ones who can really inspire us and be our models.

Prayer is the medium through which GOD prepares us for his answer to prayer, for an answer that may not be easy for us to accept. It may not be our will.

We pray. We get an answer to our prayer. Sometimes the answer is “No” or “Not now”. Through prayer, God’s will is revealed to us. And it may be something other than what we asked or imagined.

And as we pray, God also prepares us for the reality that an answer may not come in our life and time here on earth.

“The time we spend in hopeful and confident prayer, in the face of promises delayed, in the face of long seasons of silence, is the time that transforms us into the vessels that will be able to hold the answer when it finally comes.” (Fred Craddock again).

The profound nature of our relationship with God.

Prayer shapes us and moulds our character. And prayer strengthens our relationship with GOD. Through prayer our relationship with GOD is transformed and enriched so that we are being made ready ultimately to abide in GOD’s presence.

And as we deepen our relationship with GOD, maybe - to pick up the phrase from the parable - maybe we can dare to say that prayer is the medium through which we wear GOD out with our persistence and, if need be, give him a black eye. Through prayer we may boldly remind GOD of His promises to us until the answer comes.

Prayer is the courageous determination to let God be God.

Finally, it may take a long time for prayer to be answered – so don’t give up. There is concern expressed in the final verse that people will lose heart, abandon their persistent supplication and give up their faith. Hence the question at the end of the passage: “And yet when the Son of Man comes – will he find faith on earth ?” The message here is - trust in GOD for He is trustworthy. Trust in the eventual triumph of GOD and his people.

So, will the Son of Man find faith on earth when he comes again? If we continue to pray faithfully – yes he will!!! Emphatically, he will!!

This may be the logical point to end - but I cannot resist sharing with you a modern day equivalent of today’s Gospel story.

Edward Bennett Williams was a high-profile and powerful Washington lawyer, sometime owner of the Washington Redskins and the Baltimore Orioles, advisor to celebrities and politicians alike. One day Mother Teresa had made an appointment with him because she was raising money for an AIDS hospice and Williams was in charge of a charitable foundation that she hoped would help. Before the appointment, Williams said to his partner, Paul Dietrich, “You know, Paul, AIDS is not my favourite disease. I don't really want to make a contribution but I've got this Catholic saint coming to see me and I don't know what to do.” Well, they talked about it and agreed that they would be polite, hear her out, but then say no. So, Mother Teresa arrived. She sat like a little sparrow perched on the other side of the lawyer’s immense mahogany desk. She made her appeal for the hospice and Williams said, “We're touched by your appeal, but no.” Mother Teresa said simply, “Let us pray.” Williams exchanged glances with his partner and they bowed their heads. After the prayer, Mother Teresa made the same pitch, word for word, for the hospice. Again Williams politely said no. Mother Teresa said, “Let us pray.” Williams, exasperated, looked up at the ceiling as if to heaven and finally exclaimed, “All right, all right”, and turning to his partner said, “Paul, get me my cheque book !”

Yes, indeed, another example of the power of persistent prayer!!

As Jesus taught us - we must keep praying. And, in full expectation of his coming again, we must not – we shall not - lose heart. Amen.

Sermon: The List - 2 September 2007

2007-09-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

Luke 14:1,7-14
St. Paul's L'Amoreaux, September 2, 2007

In our lesson from Luke 14, Jesus is giving lessons about life in the kingdom of God. In the first lesson, he is giving instructions on how to be a good guest. On the surface, what he said isn't much different from common Jewish table manners. And yet it says that Jesus was telling a parable. Parables, as you know, were used by Jesus to teach about life in the Kingdom of God. And against those who are always trying to calculate some little advantage for themselves and trying to climb to some better position, Jesus says simply, "Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

And in the second saying in which Jesus is addressing the host of a banquet, you could say, on the one hand, it's a lesson in delayed gratification. Advantages missed now by inviting the poor, lame, and blind will be multiplied later at the resurrection. And if that were the only appeal, then it's actually a stronger appeal to the same basic motive for gain and advantage of those who are calculating in their choice of dinner guests.

But there is a reason to believe that something else far greater is intended. In the lesson Jesus says that if you give a banquet and host these kinds of needy people, you will be blessed. The word "blessed" is important because it is a word ordinarily reserved for the joy of living in the Kingdom of God. It is the word used in the beatitudes - blessed are you poor, hungry, mournful and persecuted (Lk. 6:20-23).

Furthermore, the two lists of those to invite and not to invite are also important.

The first list of those not to invite provides a warning that the people we ordinarily aspire to be like and aspire to be with may not be as reliable as we might first think. Our first impression may be that here's another example of us being asked to give up for the sake of others and to think of others first. In fact, what we may have here is a warning. These people may not be as good to you or for you as you think they might be. If you are pinning your hopes on the shoulders of family, friends, and those of wealth and influence, you may end up disappointed. Jesus issued the warning of which he himself would feel the effects. In chapter 21, verse 16, he says: "You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death."

And the reason for this may not be anything particularly dark or conspiratorial. It may be as simple as the fact that if entering the Kingdom of is your goal, you may not have much in common with those whose goal it is not, sometimes including those to whom you are close.

But the second list, those who are poor, crippled, lame, and blind, is similar to the list of people who, long long ago, the prophet Isaiah promised would be delivered by the coming messiah. They are the people Jesus mentioned that day when he announced his messiahship in the temple. They are the people Jesus mentioned when he sent a message to John the Baptist to confirm that he was the Saviour. "Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard", Jesus said. "The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor" (Lk. 7:22).

This isn't a lesson about table manners. It is a lesson about the fulfilment of prophecy, about the hope of all ages coming to pass. About the prophet Isaiah's vision of paradise: ". . . with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them." (Is. 11:1-9.)

Those of you who read the little travel diary I kept about our trip to Kenya will have read this story already. But during our time in Kenya, I was advised to look out for a short, quiet and unassuming priest by the name of John Njuguna. He won't draw much attention to himself, I was told, but over the course of his ministry he has been a tremendous pastor and has planted nearly 25 churches. Fortunately, he was one of the first people I met when we arrived in Bungoma, and we visited every time we were together.

Our first Sunday there, we were gathered on the grounds of the Wycliffe Centre, and Fr. John was very happy. "What a great day this is," he told me. "Seven years ago," he said while pointing across the field to the northern corner of the property, "I started this church. It was a very bad area, run by thieves. People who came into it, herding cattle, or carrying chickens, or riding on bikes, might enter with something, but left with nothing."

I asked him what he did.

"Well," he said, "the first thing I did was go into their homes. I told them that God loved them. I told them that I was their friend, and now, they were my friends. And I told them that they were welcome to come to my church." And then, very deliberately he said, with a wave of his hand back and forth ‑ "I didn't talk about any bad things" ‑ meaning, he didn't raise the subject of their thievery.

"I kept visiting," he said, "and gradually they started coming to the church. After a while, they began to step forward in order to be baptized. I welcomed them, but I told them, `God loves you, but God needs you to serve him. Therefore, when I baptize you, there are some things you can no longer do.'" "This region has been transformed," he told me with a smile, pointing out in the crowd at least three of the former thieves, one of whom has become a local evangelist.

I don't know how you hear all this, but the tipped-over world that Jesus describes presents a great challenge. It challenges our loyalties. It challenges us with demanding ministry to people in need. But the challenge of this kind of ministry and this kind of living is rewarded many times over with the rich fellowship of humble people and the first taste of the paradise to come - when the miseries, hatreds, jealousies and cruelties of this world will have a place no more. And it is a kind of living rewarded with the joy of sharing in Jesus' redemption of the world.

Our Lord has invited us to his table. And as our gospel lesson teaches, we are all invited, no matter what our circumstance. Whether we be rich or poor, strong or weak, Jew or Gentile. But the invitation is also given with great urgency. A feast is being held, and the host will not tolerate excuses. In fact, he is sending out his servants to invite anyone who will come until every seat at the table is full. But it is the banquet in the upper room that consoles us with the assurance of our Lord that He invites us to His table where we will find His mercy to heal our wounds and grace to face the future. And the invitation he has given to each of us He asks us to share with others.

"But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

Sermon: Isaiah and the Vineyard - 19 August 07

2007-08-28T05:21:00.000-07:00

Sermon: The Vineyard

Text: Isaiah 5.1-7

St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Pentecost 12 (Proper 20), August 19, 2007

There are three things I’d like us to notice in our lesson from Isaiah. And the first may be obvious to you, but did you notice that the speaker changes?

The lesson begins with Isaiah speaking on behalf of the Lord, like a friend paying tribute to another friend who goes unappreciated for the beautiful vineyard he has built.

But then, at the third verse, in this relatively short passage, the speaker changes - from the friend to the master, from Isaiah to the Lord.

“And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah,” says the Lord, “judge between me and my vineyard. What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done?” (Is 5:3-4)

I don’t know how many of you read, then saw the movie of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. About a year after the first movie, I received a DVD of it as a gift and eagerly watched it again at home. There was one scene, though, where watching at home was nothing like being in the theatre.

A little hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, has been custodian for a terrible ring. Because of its terrific power, it corrupts everyone who holds it and must be taken to the Mount of Doom and destroyed. A great wizard named Gandalf knows all this and is trying to transfer the ring from the hobbit Bilbo to his young nephew Frodo who will begin carrying it to its place of destruction. The wizard is very powerful, but kind and gentle among the hobbits. So kind, that they often forget his great power. And so on the fateful day when Gandalf the wizard requests that Bilbo the Hobbit hand over the ring, Bilbo, already a little corrupted by the ring, rudely refuses and accuses Gandalf of wanting it for himself.

At the accusation - and an effect that is terrifying in the theatre (and a bit lame on a small TV at home) - Gandalf the wizard grows to the size of a giant, fire and smoke surround him, and a great, deep voice comes from within him, ordering Bilbo to stop playing games about this dangerous ring, and stop treating him like a greedy con artist.

Little Bilbo hands over the ring.

That came to mind here. It is as if the Lord interrupts Isaiah in order to challenge the people directly: ‘Who do you think you’re dealing with?’

And then the Lord says, “I have delivered you into a land of plenty, and like the master of a vineyard, I have tilled the soil, cleared the rocks and built a watchtower within it for your safety and protection.

“But you have not trusted my oversight, you have spoiled the vineyard, and you have made the whole thing stink with your sinfulness and quarreling.”

Which is the second thing I’d have you notice.

On the one hand, it is a small thing, a word, but repeated twice in this passage. In the accusation that the Lord make against Israel, the Lord says, “I expected [the vineyard] to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes,” literally, ‘grapes that stink’, ‘grapes with a stench’.

Again, a small thing, but a sharp contrast between what the vineyard was intended for and what it has become: ‘a yard full of grapes that stink’.

On an afternoon before Halloween a few years ago, John Oakley, who was then with CFRB radio. thought it would be fun to get people to call in and tell about their experiences getting rid of the ‘smell of death’. What he was thinking of are those times when a little mouse dies behind a cupboard, or a bird in the rafter of a garage. I’m not sure he was expecting what he got.

Because right away an autobody mechanic phoned in. “From time to time,” he said, “it happens to us. We get cars that have been involved in fatal accidents. There is a terrible stench that’s left behind.”

“Here’s how we get rid of it. We remove the seats, the dashboard, and every piece of plastic, rubber, leather, fabric or wood that we can find. We then take a sandblaster and destroy every sliver of paint - the smell will seep into the paint. And we sell the little that’s left for parts.

“That’s how we get rid of the smell.”

Here in Isaiah this is a powerful accusation, because of how great the contrast is between something that’s sweet and something that’s become rotten. This vineyard has become the complete opposite of what was intended.

It is intended to be a place of justice.

It is intended to be a place of fairness, generosity and mercy.

It is intended to be a place of harmony.

It is intended to be a place set aside for glory and praise of God.

And it is intended that the influence of this place should spread. It is intended that this nation should be a light to all nations. It is intended that around this holy hill, all nations should gather.

But instead of justice, there is injustice.

Instead of fairness, cheating.

Instead of harmony, quarrelling and division.

Instead of the praise, the mistrust and defiance of God.

Instead of a vineyard, it’s a yard full of grapes that stink.

Now here’s the third thing, and again, by this point, you’ve probably noticed it, too. The comparison between the people and a vineyard made here in Isaiah is a comparison Jesus makes many times. But what we sometimes miss is that the comparison is made for the same reason.

In other words, what God was doing and building in Israel, God continues to pursue in Israel and now in the church, the new Israel of those who’ve been ‘grafted in’ through faith in Jesus Christ. Jesus deliberately used the same comparison that the prophets before him used. And the warning, the judgement - and the hope - that the prophet issues to Israel then is the warning, judgement, and hope that the prophet issues to the church today.

In some ways, I think it’s obvious.

We are to be righteous people.

We are to be just people.

We are to live in harmony, and to work hard when conflict arises.

We are always to remember the widow, the poor and the foreigner among us.

And the influence of being and becoming that kind of people is intended for the sake of the world.

Whenever we act unrighteously, unjustly, selfishly and in a pinched and provincial fashion, we become like grapes that stink.

But there’s another point that requires a bird’s eye view of Isaiah in order to see. One of the fascinating aspects of this prophet is the way in which he understands the nations. On the one hand, Isaiah describes the nation of Israel divided and fighting among itself. He also describes the neighbouring nations as instruments of God’s judgement who he will use to punish Israel. But against our tendency to cut and run whenever we see troubles, even though they see what’s coming, the prophets of Israel stay among the people in their time of punishment, knowing that the discipline of the Lord is the first step toward redemption.

The final destiny of God’s people is not injustice and dissension. The final destiny of the nations is not as a blunt instrument of judgement.

The final destiny of Israel is its redemption.

The final destiny for the nations is their redemption.

In similar fashion, Jesus warned the people of his day. And He too stayed among them, bearing on his shoulders the weight of this great clash between what God’s people are intended to become and what they have degenerated into. Jesus stayed among them even though it meant the road to Golgotha where he would be tried falsely and crucified unjustly.

But the final destiny for Israel is its redemption.

The final destiny for the world is its salvation.

This is a solemn lesson. We probably know too well all the different ways when we’ve looked for a vineyard and discovered grapes that stink. But are we prepared to receive the Lord’s correction? Have we the faith to lift our heads and contemplate that which God intends us to become? In this generation of dissension, quarreling and division, and hard as it is to accept, we also betray those plans not only when we contradict the way that God has commanded us to live, but whenever we flee the conflicts created when the old and the new life clash - conflicts in our homes, among our family and friends, in our parishes, in our world.

One old Bible commentator says (K. F. Keil):

[The book of Isaiah is about] a test sent from God for Judah and the house of David, in which it was their duty to decide in favour of faith and confidence simply in the omnipotence and the grace of the Lord; instead of which, they placed their confidence in the earthly worldly power of Assyria, and, as a punishment, were given over to . . . heathen nations, in order that, being purified by severe judgments, they might be led through deep sufferings to the glory of their divine calling.” (Quoted, Seitz, p. 7)

God’s plans are not for us as mere individuals. God’s plans are for a holy people, a nation of priests, raised up for the sake of the world. And this is the shining hope on the other side of the prophet’s message of judgement.

I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind . . . I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight . . . no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress . . . they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit . . . The wolf and the lamb shall feed together . . . They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord. (Is 65:17-25).

Sermon: The Call of Jeremiah, 26 August 07

2007-08-28T05:16:00.000-07:00

Sermon: The Call of Jeremiah

Text: Jeremiah 1.4-10

St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Pentecost 13 (Proper 21), August 26, 2007

Our Old Testament lesson this morning is the gripping account of the Lord’s call of Jeremiah the prophet. And a couple of introductory words.

First, it is a mark of the way we do things in the Anglican Church that we read lessons like this in the first place. Because the schedule of readings we follow, called a lectionary, requires us to read not just our favourite lessons, but the hard ones, too.

I had a funny experience while teaching about the liturgy in Kenya and teaching about the difference between those things that are of primary and secondary importance. Those who plan the liturgy need to keep this in mind. They don’t want the service to go on and on. Neither do they want the essentials to be overlooked.

While teaching, one of the young clergy put up his hand and said, “We have that problem in our church. The services go on too long. Lots of singing, long testimonies and announcements. So we solved it. We don’t read the Bible anymore.”

He was reminded by me that the lessons are considered essential. He was warned by his principal, who was helping to translate, not to let it happen again.

I always like it when guilt and innocence mix. Like the proud young owner of a new porsche who can’t help correcting the traffic cop who stopped him. “No, you’re wrong,” complains the speeder. “I was going at least twice that fast!”

We need the whole counsel of Scripture in order that our lives might be shaped according to God’s purposes and will. But these are tough ones to consider.

Secondly, I want to say again what I said last week about Isaiah. It is easy to forget that the Old Testament record about Israel continues to serve as an example for us as modern Christians. And it serves as a warning when we read about the people descending into division and disloyalty to God. And the point is simple. The same temptations which faced Israel face the church. We must be on guard against destructive conflict and disloyalty to God.

But here’s a point that I’ve only begun to understand in the last few years. Much is made in Isaiah, and also here in Jeremiah, about a remnant from whom God would rebuild his people (Is. 11.1). But do you realize that the prophets never identify who the remnant is? Only God knows. And it is left to the prophets and the people to wait and see how God will raise up those who’ve been faithful. It is left to the people to obey the Lord and remain faithful throughout.

This is the same point made in Jesus’ parable of the wheat and the weeds (Mt. 13.24ff.). It is left to the Lord to sort out the faithful from the unfaithful.

For that reason, a humble priest and his wife like Zechariah and Elizabeth, an unsuspecting but righteous couple like Joseph and Mary, and a tottering and prayerful couple like Simeon and Anna are the perfect examples and the ones to whom the Messiah, Jesus Christ the Lord, would first appear.

To our great harm, Christians have been too eager - far too eager - to declare who is, and who is not faithful, and to take it upon themselves to separate themselves from those thought to be unfaithful.

I mention this second point because I do not want to ignore the elephant pounding around in the room. This is a generation in which the Christian churches in general, and the Anglican Church in particular, are quarrelling and breaking up. This is not just an Anglican problem. At last count, there are 40,000 Christian denominations, and I’m told a new one created once every 2 or 3 days. But it most certainly is an Anglican problem, and we face difficult days ahead.

Conflict is unavoidable and we discover God and God’s purposes through a great struggle in a dangerous world. But the large difference I see, when comparing Israel to the church, is that Israel and its prophets knew that God’s intention was for them as a people, and they came to realize that there are times when they all must bear the confusion and disarray brought upon them by unfaithfulness and the tumult of the times.

That is the example of Jeremiah. One of his most famous speeches was just as the Babylonians were about to attack. All around him, his own people believed there was nothing to worry about. All around him, hundreds of prophets who also claimed the inspired word of the Lord, declared that all was well. Life could go on as it was.

But Jeremiah thundered in reply: “Peace, peace, where there is no peace.”

Did they thank him for his insight? They threw him into a well.

Did they praise him for his courage and independence? They wanted to kill him.

Did it draw him closer to the Lord? He accused the Lord of violating him.

But did Jeremiah give up, lose faith, or abandon his people?

No! And the most eloquent tribute to this great prophet is the fact that immediately after his most violent complaints about the people and toward God, the next day we see him back at it, warning the people, guiding the people, pointing the people back to the life for which they were intended, holding out hope to the people that God does not forget his promises. God will rebuild.

Generations later, it became clear that Jeremiah had spoken for the Lord, and he was the one around whose counsel the people could rebuild.

Christians, on the other hand, and modern Christians in particular, have been notoriously guilty of concluding that God’s purposes is for them, individually, and notoriously unconcerned when the conflict leads to division, and further division - and further division - to the tune of another new denomination every 2 or 3 days.

How does this rise from our lesson in Jeremiah?

Briefly, two things from verse five.

First, in a backhanded fashion we are warned of the cost. The lesson begins with the haunting description of the prophet’s call and of the Lord’s choice of him from even before the time of his birth.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.” (Je 1:5) It is a beautiful description, of God’s knowledge and commissioning of Jeremiah, but it carried with it a tremendous cost, as the call of God always does.

We can be quite sentimental about the call of the Lord. But if the Lord calls, hang on to your hat.

It is similar to the description that the psalmist uses of himself in Psalm 71, and the psalmist finds himself surrounded by enemies ready to pounce.

And yet, his conclusion is not one of despair, but of dependence upon God and hope in the faithfulness of God.

O my God, make haste to help me! . . . But I will hope continually, and will praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all day long (Ps 71:11-15).

And as one commentator puts it, instinctively the psalmist realizes that suffering is not wasted if that agony is part of God’s redemptive work in the world.

Why is the call of the Lord so costly? Because the saving plans of the Lord are so great!

The second thing, also from verse 5, is the purpose for which Jeremiah is being raised up:

“I appointed you a prophet to the nations . . . to break down, and to build up.” (Je 1:5)

As mentioned last week, one of the fascinating aspects of the prophets is the way in which they understand the nations. Both Jeremiah and Isaiah describe the nation of Israel as divided and fighting among itself. And they describe the neighbouring nations as instruments of God’s judgement who God will use to punish Israel. But this is not the ultimate purpose - for Israel or the nations. Israel is not abandoned to division and ruin. The nations are not meant to be only cudgels of punishment.

The final destiny of God’s chosen is to be a holy people, a nation of priests, a light to the nations. The final destiny for the nations is their redemption and salvation. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son . . .”

Which is why the calling of Jeremiah, and our calling as God’s ambassadors in the world, is never easy. We are being drawn into God’s redemptive purposes for the world. Purposes which we only understand in part. Purposes which involve a great struggle, like labour pains, St. Paul says. Purposes that extend beyond our sight-lines and into the generations that will follow us.

I’ve mentioned before the process going on right now for the beautification of Mother Theresa, and that, to the surprise of many, the investigation has revealed that for most of Mother Teresa’s active ministry in the streets of Calcutta and among the world’s poorest of poor, she herself was experiencing profound spiritual darkness. Incidentally, this was splashed on the front page of the National Post (August 25, 2007) just yesterday.

But rather than despair, she turned her own feelings of abandonment into even greater dependence on God and her feelings of purposelessness into sharply focussed acts of service among the poorest of the poor.

There was no outward sign of it. Mother Theresa radiated joy and love. And few can imagine her doing what she did with that kind of inner struggle occurring. Where did she find the strength and inspiration to carry on?

But I was interested in what the reporter noticed.

This discovery came as no surprise to the investigators because it is a common characteristic of saintly people. And yet, fittingly, Mother Theresa’s struggles are the sources of deepest suffering in our time - meaninglessness and abandonment!

But rather than give in to her feelings of meaninglessness and abandonment, she became even more focussed in service and abandoned herself more fully to God.

In fact, as the darkness deepened within her, light seem to radiate from her even more brightly among those she lived and served. People who met her were always struck by her smile and a palpable feeling of love and radiance. Little did they know that her smile was an act of the will which she offered as a simple expression of her faith in Jesus Christ.

How does a person come to give their life for the poorest of the poor?

How does a person carry on in the dark night of the soul?

Jeremiah offers us a clue.

They do so under the conviction that God is faithful, and the suffering which comes to God’s people is meaningful as it is part of God’s plan of salvation.

They do so under the conviction that God’s purposes are for the world. We are called for that purpose. We are privileged to join in service.

But I will hope continually, and will praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all day long (Ps 71:11-15).

Mission to Kenya - Saturday, July 28 - Conclusion

2007-07-29T12:05:00.001-07:00

On July 18, around 80 traveled to Cairo for the side-tour portion of the trip. It included some of the great sites in Cairo, Alexandria, and a boat cruise on the Nile. With gratefulness to God for safe travel, late on Saturday, July 28, the 10 participants from St. Paul's L'Amoreaux all arrived home in Toronto.

At some point, I hope to provide an overall summary of the mission and possibly a list of the places and sites that were visited in Egypt, but otherwise this travel-log comes to an end. The travel-log will be kept in circulation until the end of September.

Credit for the pictures you see goes to a number of the team members. A photo library of the mission is available here: http://www.kenya2007.com/Projects.htm.

An even fuller photo journal by Dr. David Hillock can be found here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dhkenya2007

A very fine log of the mission has been kept by Henrieta Paukov of the Toronto Anglican newspaper, and can be found here: http://kenyamission.blogspot.com/

Mission to Kenya: Tuesday, July 17

2007-07-17T06:51:00.000-07:00

We are in Nairobi for the day and after a group photo this morning, members were off to visit a nearby orphaned giraffe centre, a jewelry shop supported by a single women’s association, lunch at the renowned Carnivore Restaurant - famous for its ‘all you can eat’ meat feature - and then to one of the famed and crowded Nairobi open markets.

After an early supper, we’ll try for a few hours sleep before a 12.15 am wakeup call in order to get to the airport for our trip to Cairo. We arrive around 10 am on Wednesday.

Mission to Kenya: Monday, July 16

2007-07-16T10:27:00.001-07:00

*This morning, people are inquiring of each other, ‘Who felt the earthquake?’ Apparently, a little before midnight, a fairly substantial quake rocked the continent, with its epicenter south of us in Tanzania. It was accompanied by several aftershocks, and it was significant enough to have had the attention of the local staff.

*Today’s safari has been a great success. The ‘king’ was finally spotted, with his pride enjoying last night’s kill of a ‘wildabeast’.

Michael Legg provided a brief overview of the patterns of a male lion’s ‘pride’ (the word for a male and his group of female lions and cubs). Most never become very large because there is only ever one male who is constantly fighting off competition. If the competitor wins, the losing male walks away alone, a very sad and pathetic sight, I’m told. The new head of the pride will then kill his predecessors cubs and begin again.

The lion is also, we’re told, a particularly lazy animal, lounging under the bushes and trees only until it is necessary to come out and hunt. They hunt in packs and often very strategically. One lioness will go upwind, sending the prey downwind into an ambush by the rest of the pride.

We asked our driver who the Masai fear, who we regularly see walking across the park. ‘They fear the elephants and the buffalo, but the cats they fend off with their own special repellent recipe of cow dung and other secret ingredients.

*The rest of the day has been spent on the road from the lodge to the Methodist Guest House in Nairobi. Accommodations here are lovely, but the roads have been brutal. Another long day on them, and we’re all glad to be off – now, I believe, for the last time.

All the St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux folk are in one piece, reunited and in good spirits.

Mission to Kenya: Sunday, July 15

2007-07-16T10:26:00.003-07:00

The Safaris began in earnest as early as 6 am. It is the best hour to go out as most of the animals hunt at this time before bedding down for the midday. The great migration of animals through this region is delayed this year due to heavy spring rains which kept the grass green later than usual. Most of the animals can be spotted, but not in the great herds associated with the annual migration.

*There were two other safaris at 11 am and 4 pm, and all photographers returned triumphant. The afternoon trip was preceded by a visit to a nearby Masai village. The Masai are, as I understand, a native tribe whose way of life carries on, though they benefit from the tourist trade and this has undoubtedly affected their life. The recent issue of Vanity Fair (see here), brought along by one person because the July 2007 edition is all about Africa, shows a Masai tribesman carrying a cellphone in his pierced ear.

*At suppertime, a troup of about 20 Masai men danced through the dining area, carrying spears and clubs. At intervals they stopped and each would jump straight up into the air. The highest jumper is the one to win the affection of the local ladies and the number of silver necklaces indicates the various degrees of success the jumper has had.

*Ominously, we can be escorted to our lodges by bodyguards. I’ve yet to discover from whom or what we are being protected, but I think it is the possibility of hungry animals in search of tender tourists. I’ve traveled back and forth unmolested by either man or beast.

*The day ended with brief Sunday evening prayers and a chance for all of the mission teams to debrief. These first two weeks have presented considerable physical, professional and emotional challenges, and there’s a lot to be considered. But all appear to have survived more or less in tact.

*I asked Canon Beard for his estimate of the goods and services that the mission has been able to contribute. At present, he calculates the contribution at over $1 million (Cdn.). A single tooth extraction is worth 3000 Kenyan shillings. One morning, a woman had four removed, and was then seen at the nearby eye clinic that afternoon.

*In terms of climate, I’d much rather be here than Toronto in July. There is a hot stretch from about 10 am until 2 pm, but the breeze is always – always – cool, and shade of any kind will quickly put a person back in good sorts. The evenings are cool and can be quite cold.

Mission to Kenya: Saturday, July 14

2007-07-16T10:26:00.001-07:00

An early start in anticipation of a 6 am departure. A fleet of ten vans from the Mara Simba Lodge in the Serengeti picked us up at the two hotels and we were all on the road and in procession before 7 am. Another long ride, about 10 ½ hours, and the worst at the end as we navigated another narrow trail of rocky roads into the park. To our surprise, and enormous relief, it was the road into paradise. The Lodge is a first-class resort and walking into it we were immediately refreshed by the spotless, riverside surroundings, a magnificent and refreshing breeze and small glasses of lemonaide to revive our spirits.

A magnificent buffet was served around 7.30, preceded by the chance to see the local crocodiles fed.

Mission to Kenya: Friday, July 13

2007-07-16T10:25:00.001-07:00

Today was our last in Bungoma, and the last for the teachers at Butonga. Three teaching sessions in the morning were followed by a graduation ceremony at around noon, with 60+ certificates of participation being awarded. We were back to Bungoma by about 2 pm to start packing, a bit of a rest, and then to the Sharrif Centre for farewell speeches and dinner at night. Rain started falling – then pouring down – around 5 pm, spoiling a planned outdoor reception. But things were transferred inside. Various contributors were recognized, such as the diocesan, Sharrif Centre and hotel staff. Bishop Wabakala then presented certificates of participation to all the mission team members and a special award to Canon Kim Beard. Following dinner, most were back to the hotel by around 9.30.

Mission to Kenya: Thursday, July 12

2007-07-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

The teachers are back at Butonga for the second day of classes. We’ll return tomorrow morning for one last session each and graduation. We’ve been accompanied today by the medical team. A lineup of about 100 or 150 had already gathered for the treatment, and we’ve already been swarmed once by about 50 children from the other side of the fence, curious about the goings on. There are now at least three supervisors with switches.

One of the doctors said this was the longest lineup of people they had so far at the beginning of the day, and by days end they thought they had seen 1000. There were a lot of people, but it was not a satisfying day from the perspective of the team. The lineups were unruly, there were various layers of privilege being discovered as, for various reasons, some were being promoted to the front of the line. Under these conditions, the sickest in the group are often overlooked. The site, as mentioned, is next to a school and a couple hundred school kids were added to the list. And facilities were cramped with two teams on one site. One of the volunteers suffered heat stroke having sat out in the sun for too long.

The eyecare team didn’t fare much better. There’s was an outdoor location, a great and boisterious crowd gathered and, for whatever reason, the assigned local interpreters went missing around noon. The situation was getting out of hand, and the clinic packed it in. Still, they saw and fitted nearly 300 people. They arrived home around the usual time.

The other side of it is that even the modest treatment that the clinics offer is out of reach for most. What the medical team offers is the equivalent of 4000 Kenyan shillings for those who would otherwise have no choice but the hospital – about a third of a year's income. And I heard that when a local hospital was visited a year ago to get some idea of what the medical teams could expect, it was noticed that the local pharmacy had next to nothing in it. A few bottles of Tylenol and medication for malaria. The mission clinic, by contrast, is bountifully supplied, and will leave the remainder behind.

At suppertime tonight, Kim Beard estimated that all the teams combined have dealt with about 20,000 people so far who’ve attended the medical and eye clinics, who’ve attended classes, who’ve been part of the construction projects.

*We’re near the end of our stay in Bungoma. Early Saturday morning we leave for the Masai Mara game reserve. There’s a flurry of activity sorting out farewells, the distribution of leftover supplies and what and how to pack. We each brought two suitcases and though one was filled with supplies that have been used – or will be left behind - in principle, we’re permitted to take two home. That said, the second must be packed and ready to go tomorrow evening on a separate truck which will make the delivery to our accommodations in Nairobi. The simplest solution, and the one most are following, is simply to return with one suitcase, plus carry-on.

*Farewell gifts and tips are being sorted out, but we learned today that caution must be taken in presenting them. At the end of a previous visit by an English delegation, a gift was publicly presented to Bishop Wabakala. Two days later, his home was broken into and robbed.

*Our formal graduation ceremony will take place tomorrow morning, but the film crew was on site so we staged portions of our classes and a mock graduation. It was great fun, and the crew certainly had landed upon the biggest and liveliest of our three groups.

Mission to Kenya: Wednesday, July 11

2007-07-16T10:23:00.000-07:00

*The teachers have been sent to Butonga. It is our longest trip from Bungoma, about 40 km, and 1/3 of it is on dirt roads. It is also, by far, our largest class with 55 attending and the prospect of more for tomorrow. That said, it is very pleasant out here and while the roads were rough, there was no rush and it was more of a wandering ride than a bumpy one as our driver simply navigated around the worst of the potholes.

We don’t see as many vehicles on the road here, mostly bicycles and pedestrians, and the occasional motorcycle.

*During one of the other sessions, I went for a stroll. The church is situated next to an Anglican primary and high school, and the complex includes several buildings, including a medical clinic (though I’m not sure if it is operational yet). It is a very busy and noisy centre of activity. Out walking I ended up as a bit of a novelty. We’re far enough from the city that people here rarely see foreigners.

*The three of us teachers were trying to guess what subjects were being taught in the public school on the other side of the fence. Our guess was ‘recess’, because all day long we heard the constant din of happy children playing outside. The other subject, I’m guessing, was ‘skipping class’ because also, throughout the day, the church in which our classes are being held was surrounded by little heads and bright eyes sneaking a peek at the goings on inside. Every once in a while, the class ‘usher’ would take a switch he had made of branches and charge into the centre of the crowd of children chasing them away from the building. The effect was negligible and short-lived.

*All around are small, circular mud huts with thatch roofs. There are also about an equal number of square and rectangular brick buildings with tin roofs, but the huts are more common here than they were near Bungoma.

*The teachers are starting to feel a bit weary. We’re not quite sure why. On the one hand, we are all averaging 8-9 hours of sleep a night, 2-3 hours a night more than we get back in Toronto. On the other hand, we wonder if there isn’t a form of stimulation overload. Or the medication we’re taking to prevent malaria. Also, traveling is tiring, partly because of the length of time, partly because of the condition of the roads, and partly because it is six lane traffic where the laws of physics only permits two. The six lanes are two lanes of pedestrians on the outside, two lanes of bicycles and ‘boda bodas’ (bicycle taxis), and two lanes in the middle of vehicles – cars, trucks, tractors, and large freightliners, some with trailers behind. The ‘wild card’, similar to crazy couriers on the streets in Toronto, are the donkeys, goats, sheep and cows. They have their own, unpredictable traffic protocol.

Mission to Kenya: Tuesday, July 10

2007-07-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

*A fairly straightforward day for the teachers, but a marathon for the eyecare team. With an early 7.30 am start, they were sent to two nearby locations, and processed 500 people. Even though they returned to the hotel at a reasonable time, many of them were fast asleep once supper was over.

*The teachers and painters were back at the Wycliffe Centre. The painters are now down to the final trim. The day was hot and one person went down with nausea, a headache and fatigue. All along there have been one or two each day staying behind with these symptoms, but so far, nothing more serious, and all the patients have been back at it within a day.

*The teachers participated in their second graduation ceremony, with about 40 people receiving certificates of participation from Wycliffe College, Toronto. Many would have had some introduction to preaching and leading the liturgy, but the class on accounting, from Janne Chung, has been a real hit.

*A couple of birthdays were celebrated this evening, including the 80^th birthday of Beryl Beard, the mother of Canon Kim Beard, who has served as the unofficial ‘chief financial officer’ of the mission, and has been serving on the medical team here. Mrs. Beard also has her granddaughter Sarah with her, the daughter of Kim, and a member of the film crew.

Mission to Kenya: Monday, July 9

2007-07-10T00:34:00.000-07:00

For most, a half day today. For those interested, a trip was organized to a nearby tropical rain forest to see a rare bat habitat, exotic butterflies, several spectacular views, and a warning to keep an eye out for several kinds of snakes - the ‘bat, bug and snake tour’ for those of us who decided to stay back. At least one team was out in full force, a couple put in a half day, and others enjoyed most of the day on the tour. This evening was dinner as usual at the Shariff Centre, then back to the hotel for card playing, reading, writing, or simply an early night.

*Two of us had a bit of a revelation as we tried explaining the difference between Kenya and Canada regarding income and expenses. As noted earlier, we’re led to believe that the average Kenyan salary is about 12,000 shillings a year, about $200 Canadian.

The average Canadian salary of about $40,000 a year works out to about 2.4 million Kenyan shillings. But our friend was also taken aback at the cost of renting an average house (1.26 million shillings - $1750 Cdn per month), or a two bedroom apartment (72,000 shillings - $1000 Cdn per month), or even a basement hovel (432,000 shillings - $600 per month). But after we threw in taxes of 40-50% (1.2 million shillings), his question was, “How do you pay for the children?”

He has eight, 4 each by two wives. The Canadian national average of 1.3 children per household was our answer.

*There was a second revelation in class when trying to describe a concept that has had a strong influence on the development of many of the modern liturgies in North America - that is, that the Christian churches now exist in a post-establishment era. In other words, none of the churches are national or established churches and a certain separation exists between state and church affairs.

This simply isn’t the case in a country like Kenya where the Christian churches have a strong influence in church sponsored schools, with public funds assisting. Where someone like Bishop Wabakala serves as the chairperson of the national anti-corruption committee - a high profile, government committee on a matter of keen national interest and concern.

We were told about a particularly rugged region where a revolutionary group have been responsible for much havoc. Last week, 15 police officers were gunned down and killed. We were told about the region because we were introduced to a young priest who serves in the area.

“If they shoot the police, how well are you going to do?” we asked.

“Oh, I should be alright,” he answered. “Usually there’s a fair bit of respect afforded to us,” we were told.

On the roads, for instance, police are stationed all along the way. From what we were told, public safety is not always the number one concern. Often there are an assortment of violations that require on-the-spot cash fines to satisfy. That, or prolonged searches. But if a priest is sitting in the front seat, usually the shakedown is bypassed. A salute and on you go.

*There’s another side to it. Someone noticed that when yesterday’s congregation were asked who had benefited from a recent grain distribution program, 80% of those who put their hands up were clergy. This may have had something to do with the high percentage of clergy at yesterday’s service, but we’ve also met those who are preparing for the ministry and who’ve told us that part of the motivation is the hope of an improved quality of life. Motives are mixed, but that’s almost always been the case. Across the generations, and particularly in places where the church is first establishing itself, the advantages are obvious: education, a position of some public influence, and a safety net, if you will, are all very attractive when conditions are otherwise poor.

Mission to Kenya: Saturday & Sunday, July 7-8

2007-07-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 7
*The Christian Education Team moved to the Wycliffe Centre where we’ll be for today, Monday, and Tuesday. We arrived around 9.30 a.m., but began around 10.30 as some of the pastors and students were still arriving, and many of the students were also assisting the painters.

The Wycliffe Centre presently consists of a large auditorium with two smaller rooms on either at the entrance, and fairly large rooms on either side at the very front. The auditorium can likely hold 300-400 people. The rooms at the front are being used as offices and one is the temporary library.

To the south is the new hostel, a long narrow building with rooms on either side. The walls are up, the roof is on and the shell is now complete. Some of the rooms inside are more or less finished, but about 2/3's of the rooms inside still remain to be finished. The walls are rough and the floor is still dirt. It is not clear if it will all be used for hostel rooms or if there will be a mixture of dorm rooms, meeting rooms and offices (I’m guessing the latter is the likely outcome.) It is also not clear when it will be finished, because the key ingredient is always the needed funds.

Outside the painters have made tremendous strides. A white base has been applied, but only after the painstaking work of scraping the concrete smooth with wire hand brushes. A red, yellow and blue colour scheme - the colours of the Diocese of Toronto - was starting to be applied on Saturday, and the result was striking, though still a day or two away from being finished.

Inside, about 25 were attending the classes, again a mixture of clergy, Wycliffe Centre students, and lay people, though with a much higher percentage and number of students now that we’re at the centre.

The day ended around 4 pm. We were taken back to the hotel for a breather, then to the Sharrif Centre for supper. Tonight, about 23 others are joining us from Nairobi, most of whom will be staying at the Countryside Motel and a third hotel.

Many of us were in bed early, told to be up and ready for Sunday service and an afternoon ‘extravaganza’.

Sunday, July 8, 2007
What a day!

From the Happy Moments Motel we were picked up around 9.15 am and taken to the Wycliffe Centre for the Sunday morning eucharist and an afternoon ‘extravaganza’. It was everything that was promised.

As we arrived, we could see three large tents being erected on the Centre grounds, what would later serve as the border for the afternoon entertainment.

The film crew were already set up, recording some of the choirs and instrumentalists. Adults, children and schoolchildren from several of the Anglican schools were being bussed in. The most interesting transport was something that looked like a prison truck with barred windows and benches inside, but like Paul and Silas in prison, this truck bounced along to the songs of the choir it carried. The doors were pulled open, but it still left a drop of about 3 ½ feet. A rope hung from the door frame and the people inside, most of whom were ladies, swung out and down to the ground like spiderman swinging down from a skyscraper.

*The morning service itself, a eucharist with the bishop presiding and all the clergy of the diocese in attendance, followed, in general terms, the outline we're familiar with at St. Paul's. The songs are familiar gospel hymns ('What a Friend We have in Jesus'), some of the modern praise songs, some songs in Swahili with which we weren't familiar, and at least one song that had been written the day before. The most enjoyable of all, however, are familiar songs in Swahili that have a leader and a response. The people all know the response, and usually there's a familiar refrain to which everyone joins in.

*In Toronto I had been advised by John Bowen of Wycliffe College to look out for a short, quiet and unassuming priest by the name of John Njuguna. He won’t draw much attention to himself, I was told, but over the course of his ministry he has planted nearly 25 churches. Fortunately, he was one of the first people I met when we arrived in Bungoma, and we have visited every time we’ve been together.

Today on the grounds of the Wycliffe Centre, Fr. John was very happy. “What a great day this is,” he told me.

“Seven years ago,” he said while pointing to a northern corner of the Centre property, “I started this church. It was a very bad area, run by thieves. People who came into it, herding cattle, or carrying chickens, or riding on bikes, might enter with something, but left with nothing.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “the first thing I did was go into their homes. I told them that God loved them. I told them that I was their friend, and now, they were my friends. And I told them that they were welcome to come to my church.”

And then, very deliberately he said, with a wave of his hand back and forth - “I didn’t talk about any bad things” - meaning, he didn’t raise the subject of their thievery. “I didn’t talk about any bad things.”

“I kept visiting,” he said, “and gradually they started coming to the church. After a while, they began to step forward in order to be baptized. I welcomed them, but I told them, ‘God loves you, but God needs you to serve him. Therefore, when I baptize you, there are some things you can no longer do.’”

“This region has been transformed,” he told me with a smile, pointing out in today’s crowd at least three of the former thieves, one of whom has become a local evangelist.

“This is a very happy day for me,” said Fr. John.

*The afternoon 'extravaganza' included 17 different choirs, dancers and groups who sang, performed skits and danced. It was great fun watching the MC trying to keep them to 'one song each'. He failed.

All around the grounds were several displays from the Mothers' Union and other such groups.

*After concluding speeches, led by the Bishop, there was the presentation of about a dozen sheep, purchased by Canadian donors, and given to youth representatives of each parish in the diocese.

Then colorful stoles, purchased in Guatemala, were then presented to all of the clergy. We left for the hotel around 4.30 p.m..

*This evening a wonderful buffet was presented for us at the hotel as a gift for our contribution to the area and, not to put too fine a point on it, our business at the hotel. We sat outside on a long veranda - which had been constructed from the funds for our two week stay - and enjoyed great food, a local band, and dancing.

A great day and a real refresher after a long week.

Day six of the mission is over. We've been away 8 days.

Mission to Kenya: Thursday & Friday, July 5-6

2007-07-07T03:55:00.000-07:00

Thursday, July 5, 2007
Nothing new to report so far as activity is concerned. The teams are working hard and are falling into their routines quicker and more efficiently. The Christian Education team returned to Webuye and will return tomorrow for a fourth and final session.

During one of the sessions by Janne and Barbara, I stepped outside to stretch my legs, walking around the little area which contains St. John’s Church where the classes are conducted and the rectory. I noticed the women sitting outside peeling vegetables and went over to watch. I then stole a glance at the back of the house to discover two small campfires for the preparation of a chicken stew and a beef broth. As we arrived that morning, we noticed the chicken being escorted from this world to the next, from the yard to the pot.

It was interesting to watch. The beef had been purchased earlier that morning at a nearby market, 1 kilo of beef for 140 shillings, approximately $2 (Cdn.). When the meal was served that afternoon, it included the chicken, the corn staple, beef, vegetables, and potatoes.

Friday, July 6, 2007
*Today was our fourth and final teaching day at St. John’s, Webuye. The pattern for Barbara Sykes, Janne Chung and me has been to teach an hour at a time to the whole group on the three subjects we have prepared. The three of us get along very well, are having a great time and we’ve been extremely fortunate to have The Rev’d John Kimboie. Until recently he was the principal of the Wycliffe Centre, and had trained at Wycliffe College in Toronto. I didn’t have him as a student and had never met him before, but he has been an enormous help and a great encouragement to the three instructors because while proficiency in English is fairly high, whenever we get into more complex or technical discussions, John has been there to help us through.

*One funny little story. We had been given permission from Principal George Sumner and Wycliffe College, Toronto, to award ‘certificates of participation’ to those who attended. And for those who’ve been with us throughout, they’ve had a fairly good introduction to our three subjects. At one point yesterday, however, I was asked who would be eligible to receive the certificates. Because several had missed earlier classes due to the fact that they were at the mission eye clinic nearby, I quoted the parable of the servants who were paid equally whether they began at nine, noon or five, and said that we were prepared to award them to anyone who had been able to participate, regardless of how many sessions. John jumped to his feet and, as a good principal, explained that it had been stressed beforehand that only those who participated in all the classes were eligible. We immediately deferred to John and to the arrangement that had been made.

Today, however, we awarded nearly 50 certificates. At no time over the four days, with the exception of this afternoon’s graduation ceremony, do I remember seeing more than 25 attending. I was led to understand that since yesterday John had faced some pretty powerful lobby groups, including the kitchen staff. After the ceremony, and the final certificates were signed, John looked at me, smiled and said - “Everyone is happy now.”

We had some very good students, we’re encouraged that the sessions were helpful, and we were delighted to be with all who attended, including some beautiful children. But in the graduating class picture, my favourite graduate - a member of the powerful kitchen lobby - is holding her certificate upside down.

*The graduation ceremony was a treat. We wrapped up our sessions around 2 pm, and then prepared the room so that students would receive their certificates from John, who called them by name, and then come to a table where the three of us signed them and shook hands. There were three parishes represented and participating, and a representative from each gave a short speech. There were the two clergy who serve the parish, and each of them gave a speech. John himself gave a speech, singling out two students from the Wycliffe Centre who were serving summer practicums in the parish. Then there was the awarding of certificates, followed by more speeches, beautiful gifts that were presented to us, and finally a response by Barbara Sykes and final prayer. And then, after taking a picture of the graduating class, with everyone proudly holding up their certificate, we were escorted back for a final meal.

*Three things in passing that I discovered today:

First, books are very expensive. I knew teaching conditions would be fairly simple and I didn’t find the adjustment all that difficult. But what I did find difficult, if not discouraging, is that even the experienced clergy have very few books, including Bibles and prayerbooks, let alone Bible commentaries and teaching resources. Most of them seemed only vaguely familiar with their own modern prayerbook which has been heralded as something of a landmark in the Anglican Communion for its adaptation to the local culture.

Secondly, average income comes to about 1000 shillings a month, around $20 Canadian. The hotel hostess here at Happy Memories earns about $1.60 a day (Cdn.), and works seven days a week from 7 am to midnight. I remember Kim Beard explaining that, over the years, one of the reasons he started putting up his mission team members in local hotels rather than billeting people out is that families were bankrupting themselves in order to do everything possible for their guests. We’ve done our best to make the load as light as possible. Everything we want the students to be using, we’ve provided. But this fact has still been on our minds.

Thirdly, the mission is causing quite a stir in Kenya, particularly in Nairobi and the region here around Bungoma. I’m trying to get a fuller sense of it, but apparently it is getting a fair bit of coverage in the media. Unfortunately for some local villains, a few of them were rounded up last week and have been simply left in jail for two weeks in order to avoid any awkward or embarrassing situations.

Day four of the mission is over. The St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux people are all working hard and are happy and in good shape. We’ve been away one week.

Mission to Kenya: June 30 to July 4

2007-07-05T08:19:00.002-07:00

Saturday, June 30, 2007
From inside JFK airport in New York, there is not much to report other than the fact that all ten from St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux who were expected to appear have done just that. What began as a fairly modest mission one year ago has grown incredibly, so that there is not just one flight for those travelling to Kenya. People have been flying throughout the week and by about Tuesday, the 103 members will have arrived in Nairobi and Bengoma.

While there are 17 different mission teams hard at it for the next two weeks, there are two centres of activity, Nairobi and Bungoma, separated by about 250 miles. All except one of the St. Paul’s L’Amoreax people are centred at Bungoma.

The mission team work will begin on Tuesday and carry on each day until Saturday, July 15, with the exception of Sunday when we enjoy a day of rest.

Sunday, July 1, 2007
The day began over the Atlantic, arriving in Cairo around 1pm Cairo time. Arrangements had been made for a short layover at a local and lovely hotel, with a chance to clean up, get a short rest, and have dinner. Impressions are slight so far. It’s all been airports, buses and passports. Joe and Jennifer said they saw the pyramids as we came in. Cairo was hot, but it didn’t seem overwhelming. However, Canon Beard had already been there a day and said the temperatures were in the mid-40's (celsius).

That evening back at the airport, most of the team finally met up, though I believe there were still a few who are still to come, or had gone ahead. It was quite a sight. The waiting lounge was taken up almost completely by the M2K team. We were in the air a little before midnight.

Monday, July 2, 2007
A long and gruelling day.

The flight to Nairobi was uneventful. Retrieving our luggage and supplies was not.

Nearly 22 of us (and at least half of us from SPL) have had both our personal luggage and the supplies we brought along misdirected or lost. We’re hopeful that, given the large number, and the fact that we all travelled on the same flight out of Toronto, the luggage is together somewhere and will all arrive in the next day or two. But for the moment, it’s only hope. No word yet.

As frustrating as the loss of luggage was the three hour wait in line reporting it. Each of us had to produce a host of documents, and wait through the completion of two or three handwritten forms. As we stood in line, someone was showing off an advertisement written on the envelope containing their airline ticket: "Get world travelling experience." Well, we got it. Kim Beard watched on but was unforgivably nonplussed.

In Nairobi the mission members have been divided into their respective teams and to their two respective centres: Nairobi and Bungoma, separated by about 250 miles. All but one of the St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux group have been sent to Bungoma, working on the eyecare team, a dental team, a painting team and a Christian education team. Originally, after flying in from Cairo, we had hoped to leave sometime between 5 & 6 am. As it turned out, the last passenger without luggage didn’t leave the airport until after 10 am, and stopping for tea and a washroom break at the Methodist guest house in Nairobi, we didn’t get into the buses and vans for Bungoma until 11 am.

The trip to Bungoma was 10 and a half hours. And the only way I know to describe the road is to remember the worst pothole you have ever hit in your life, and then repeat that continuously for 250 miles. We arrived around 9.30 pm - all shook up, but all in one piece from what I could see.

Along the way we whistled along narrow, rough roads through crowds of bikes, uniformed school children, men and women on foot, plenty of goats and sheep, and one little clutch of baboons. The most exotic animals we could see in the fields were zebra and a lake with a large, pale pink patch in the middle of it, what we were told were pink flamingos. In our van explaining all this, and serving as a tremendous tour guide and translator and professional geologist is Michael Legg of St. Clements, Toronto, who only joined the team recently after reading about it in the Anglican in April, and offering his first-rate abilities in Swahili. Michael was born and raised in Kenya and has offered a wealth of historical, geographical and practical advice.

The two great sights along the way were the Great Rift Valley of Kenya, what Michael described as the beginning of the formation of a new continent. I missed the press release, and asked when this was likely to be completed. "A couple million years from now," he said, "but the process has begun."

From the lookout, we gazed across a great valley up from which a series of volcanoes could be seen, most of which are dormant.
The second great sight was the equator. We crossed it, at about 9000 feet above sea level, what Michael informed us would likely be the highest point on land that we would ever experience.
There were two stops, one about 4 pm where arrangements had originally been made for breakfast, but which turned into a late afternoon lunch. Then, after an excruciating three hours through the potholes (the main road is being repaired), we took another short break around 7, mostly to check that all body parts were still attached.

Since the morning we had been greeted and accompanied by Bishop Eliud Wabakala. It was a wonderful thing to see him. I had known him in passing when we were both in residence at Wycliffe College. However, I was attending Trinity, and we were both immersed in studies and so I didn’t know if he would remember. But he did and he was pleased to hear about many friends who remembered him from Toronto and sent their greetings. He is a tall, striking, paper thin man with a beautiful smile, and a gentle and friendly a manner as I’ve ever encountered. Just as the van turned off the main road for the way of the potholes, he looked back at us and with a big smile explained, ‘we are going to have a bumpy ride’. I don’t know why, but the smile kept coming back as we rode along. So much as to say, I guess, there are bumps on this road, we have to go over them or go nowhere, and it won’t do any harm to smile.

It also seems that this bishop represents his people. We have been greeted with great kindness and hospitality at every stop. And though bone tired, some of us not having properly rested for over 60 hours, there was a reception for us in Bungoma when we pulled in around 9.30 pm. The other side of it was that these were clergy and students of the diocese who had come from several locations in the diocese, some on foot, others on bikes, and had been waiting patiently since 3 pm, our originally scheduled arrival. We were greeted with a song, introductions by the bishop, and then a meal of chicken, beef, mafatha (a corn based staple whose texture is such that clumps can be pulled off and then dipped in stew or gravy), vegetables, and soda.

Sometime around 10.30, there was one last push as we were taken to our accomodations in the Happy Moments hotel. One last time, luggage was pulled off the vans and a freight truck filled with supplies and personal belongings, and then escorted to our rooms.

The rooms are simple, but each has its own washroom, shower and TV. The rooms face a centre passage-way that is only partially covered. And so, with the windows open, we hear each other, those passing, and the activity of the hotel kitchen and a lounge. Each room has a mosquito net and even though we’ve not seen much of the little enemies, we’ve still been advised to pull the net down over us. After 60 hours travelling over land, sea and the equator, I slept well.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007
The sights and sounds today have been overwhelming.

From what I could see, there are several hard decisions that have to be made for a mission like this to be successful. And one of them was today - namely, breakfast was ready by 7.30 and we were expected to be ready to go by 9. We were, and I don’t think it’s too much to say that we enjoyed Kenya time. The buses scheduled for 9 arrived at 11. We were taken to the Wycliffe Training Centre, where there was a second and more formal welcome and commissioning of the mission. Again, the clergy and students were there to greet as with song, with the work of the mission and a welcome to those of us from Toronto being interjected. The song began outside and we followed in procession into the Centre. The bishop formally welcomed us and introduced the clergy, lay leaders, students and lay assistants present. Kim Beard was then introduced and he introduced the members of the Mission team - teachers, doctors, nurses, painters, dentists, accountants. A prayer of commissioning followed and then we were on our way.

Well, from the Centre we were taken to pick up boxed lunches back to the Sharif Centre where all our main meals have been prepared. The eyecare and Christian Education teams were then taken back to Happy Moments to eat our lunch and pick up supplies. Then, we were taken to Webuye, where the mission proper began. And though it could only be introductory, the three of us teachers each had an opportunity to introduce our topics, which we’ll be able to discuss in greater detail for the next three days at Webuye, and the optician and her team of about 20 attended to the hundreds of people who had heard the word and had gathered at the Cathedral of St. Matthew since the morning. 130 were examined today, and nearly 300 tickets were given out to those who’ll be seen tomorrow.

The teachers were taken nearby to the parish of St. John's. There a group of about 25 clergy, evangelists, lay leaders and lay people had gathered and we introduced our topics of preaching (The Rev’d Dr. Barbara Sykes), accounting (Dr. Janne Chung of the Schulich School of Business, York University) and liturgy (me). We finished the afternoon around 5.15 pm. The reason is simple. At the equator, sundown is a little after 6pm and there’s no lingering sunset. Many of the people had come from considerable distances and time needed to be alloted for them to get home. But the thing has begun, and tomorrow both teams are planning to be there and underway by 9 am.

Then another lesson in Kenyan hospitality. Our host, The Rev’d John Kiboye, had tried to escort us from the church to our van and back to pick up extras from the eyecare clinic so that we could get back to Bungoma for supper at six. "You won’t get away as easily as that," one member got up and said with a smile. Meaning, they had dinner prepared for us. So, off we went to the nearby vicarage where a meal of (roti), beef and chicken was waiting. It was delicious, and as our host explained, not optional. It is the cause of great offense not to accept the hospitality of one’s host. We then travelled over to the Cathedral to join up with the eyecare team, only to be invited into for a similar meal that had been prepared for them.

And then to Bungoma for supper number 3!

I like the joke they tell. ‘Westerners have the watches, but Africans have the time.’

Oh, and the luggage was found and has made it to the Methodist Guest House in Nairobi. We may see our belongings by tomorrow night.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Another full day, and a bit of rhythm beginning to develop as the different teams become acquainted with each other, their surroundings and their responsibilities.

The painting team spent the day painting the exterior of the Wycliffe Training Centre. The Centre had been painted two years ago, but the paint had been scrubbed off almost entirely due to the heavy rains, as I understand.

The eyecare and Christian education teams returned to Webuye. There was quite a scene on the street outside the Shariff Centre where we picked up our lunches. A man had been caught stealing corn. By whatever circumstances he was caught, we saw him surrounded by a crowd of about 50 bike taxi drivers who were escorting him with shouts and malice, to the police station. At one point it appeared that they stopped to beat him. The manager of the centre was nearby and said he was lucky to have made it as far as he did. I learned later that another thief had only made it to the front of the centre where he was impaled and killed on the metal stake fence surrounding the centre.

The crime was striking - theft of corn - as was the mob justice. Guilty until proven innocent, it seemed.

Meanwhile, our intentions were a little closer to reality today. A 9 am start was delayed only by two. As the Christian education team arrived at 11, we were prepared for an anxious class, ready to begin. We met anxious cooks, ready to serve us breakfast. We ate our second breakfast.

When we began, the class began smaller, though it would be back up to about 25 by the afternoon. The reason was simple. Most were also taking advantage of the eye clinic about a mile away. They didn’t want to miss that chance, before walking the mile or so for classes.

There were a couple of harsh realities discovered by the eyecare team. They encountered a surprisingly high number of children who complained of itchy and red eyes, but whose sight was otherwise fine. The theory was twofold. The itchiness likely was the result of pollution from a nearby paper mill. When the wind blows the wrong way, the smell of chlorine used to bleach the paper is horrible. Who knows what’s in the air. The children all live in a small housing complex for plant workers.

The second harsh reality is that the problem is also largely preventable with good hygiene. What appears to be happening is that children are having dirty eyes cleaned with dirty water, rubbed by dirty hands in the meantime. But somewhere along the line, someone’s going need to start kicking the backside of the mill owner, and get them to install better scrubbers at the top of the stacks.

The day ended a little closer to 6 pm tonight, with a touching farewell ceremony for the eyecare team who will move along to a new destination tomorrow. It included speeches from the Proctor of the Cathedral (what we would call the Cathedral Dean), the local doctor who joined the clinic (what I’m sure would have been a very valuable partnership as he is someone who could followup with patients and on trends that were being discovered), from the Proctor’s wife, and from one of the van drivers, followed by a response from the team leader, and then gifts to all the team members. The team leader reported that between 450 and 500 people were examined, with some dramatic results for some who were fitted with proper glasses.

We were back for supper by about 7 pm and then to the hotel where the missing luggage - with one exception - had been delivered. People were tired today. One medical team reported in to say that they were already out of supplies, the numbers were so great. An order for more has been placed.

But by 10 pm, most were either in bed sleeping, or out on the hotel veranda enjoying soft drinks.

Day two of the mission is over, day five of the trip.

Mission to Kenya

2007-06-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

From June 30 to July 29, 2007, ten members of St. Paul's L'Amoreaux will be traveling to the Diocese of Bungoma, Kenya, for a 10 day mission, followed by a side trip to Egypt. As often as circumstances permit, I will be posting a travel-log of our time in Kenya and as many pictures as possible.

The website of St. Paul's L'Amoreaux can be found here:
www.stpl.ca