Sermon 31 Aug; Exodus 3.1-15, Romans 12.9-21, Matthew 16.21-28

Mark Twain: "It's not the parts of the Bible I don't understand that gives me problems; it's the parts that I do understand about the Bible that gives me problems."

This quote seems apropos, especially when we have so many passages before us today that we’ve always thought we understood. Yet clearly we’re being invited to consider them more deeply.

We understand that Moses was called, by God, to carry out a specific ministry. We understand through Paul that the Romans share a communal call from God, to carry out a specific ministry. And in the Gospel, Jesus reminds his disciples that both he and they are called by God, to carry out a specific ministry.

Great! Easy. Called, by God, to a task, NO PROBLEM!

Except. Hmm. Problem indeed. The human factor plays in. But the lesson remains the same: ministry is hard; faith is risky; being a true follower of God is not always popular or how we want or expect it to be – but to follow our calling, our God, faithfully, will provide spiritual riches we cannot even imagine.

I’m going to spend most of my time this morning focused on this lesson from the Exodus reading, while not ignoring the others. Moses: the one who would be named as SON (the meaning in Egyptian); the one drawn out (which is what his name means in Hebrew) of the river. The one who, as we heard last week, has been saved as a baby; found by the Pharaoh’s daughter; nursed and raised by his own mother for wages; then adopted again into the Pharaoh’s household and raised as a prince. In the interim, Moses has been a spoiled child who, one day after reaching adulthood, accidently kills an Egyptian (who was whipping Hebrew slaves); and has fled into the wilderness of Midian, where he is taken in by a community and marries the priest’s daughter, then is charged with looking after the herds when he encounters the burning bush.

So! The bush is aflame but not being consumed. Confusing, yes? It would stump me, I’d be wandering closer too. And behold! The voice from the burning bush calls Moses by name. Instructs him to take off his shoes. Wait, shoes? Why take off your shoes in the middle of the dessert?

Firstly: culture. In Biblical times one would remove their shoes as a sign of respect; not unlike a gentleman doffing his hat upon coming indoors or in the presence of a lady. So Moses is acknowledging and respecting God’s presence.

Secondly: the ground is holy, so decreed from and by its creator. The mere presence of God, in his created dirt, has made the ground holy. And through this, God wants to be as close as possible to Moses. Take off your shoes, beloved, so that literally nothing will be between us.

Then God tells Moses who he is - that he is God – the God of the ancestors, the God of the people Moses has come to realize are his true family.  So, barefoot, awed, Moses turns his face away – again a sign of respect and trust and amazement.

And it’s then that the challenge is presented. God touches on the very thing that shook Moses’ life up, which caused Moses to run away from home, from luxury, from provisions, almost to the point of death. God speaks about injustice, cruelty to people based on their heritage. It was this type of injustice, the Egyptian beating the Hebrew slave, that Moses could not tolerate then, and God knows he can not tolerate it now. It is to this emotion that God calls Moses into action. “So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt."

Yet Moses defers. “Why me?!” he asks.

And God says “But I’ll be with you. Go, that my people – your family - can come and worship here.”

And again Moses defers. “Nope. I don’t even know your name, I’ll have no credibility, I’m not going.” Really. Petulant child, yes? Trying to refuse God. Riiight. Because that’s ever worked for anyone.

So God gives him the name. “I AM WHO I AM. I am God. I AM has sent you.” In Hebrew, ehyeh ašer ehyeh – the first person of Yahweh. I will be who I will be, I shall that I shall. I AM. In this one statement, there’s a LOT of message from God. God’s stating “I am the God that is known by my works, by my mercy. I am the God that will be referred to in every. single. statement. that Jesus will make where he says “I AM” – the beginning and the end, the light of the world, the living bread, the good shepherd, the way and truth and life. I AM who I am. This is my name, this is my title, this is who I AM. So, dear Moses, when you go to the Israelites, tell them that I AM indeed the one who has sent you.”

Definitely a clear calling to a specific ministry for Moses to hear. In words, no less. Direct from God via the burning bush. And here our passage ends.

So, naturally, Moses immediately acquiesces, right? Wrong. Moses is stubborn, and shy, and doesn’t really like talking in public, or dealing with conflict, or going back from whence he fled. So, the passages immediately following our reading today are quite telling. We hear God telling Moses exactly HOW to exercise this ministry – who he should speak with, how his message will be heard, etc. And Moses again tries to get out of it, suggesting the elders of Israel won’t believe him. So God gives him the means to demonstrate 3 distinct signs to the people to show them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is true. And STILL Moses tries to get out of it, using his shyness/speech impediment as an excuse. And STILL God has the patience and love to be calm with Moses, telling him that his brother-in-law Aaron can be his attaché, as it were, to speak on his behalf. It goes on – Moses tries to get out of it, God redirects him.

Why? Because this is not just a hobby; this is his calling. This is what God has put Moses on this earth for. To work against injustice, to speak for the voiceless, to lead friends and neighbours toward God, to pray and praise the I AM who sent him.

Moses is called, by God, to a specific ministry. And he tries to get out of it. Why?

Because it’s hard. It’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s downright risky. Even knowing that God will be with him every step of the way, he is afraid of what it means to answer that call. Yet – this is the important part – he does (eventually) fulfill his mission. He will bumble and stumble and only by the grace of God he will overcome his human failings and will eventually become the leader of God’s people. But his human fear and reluctance – there’s something we can relate to, of course. That’s the part that we tend to overlook when we tell the story of Moses, despite it being such a regular and normal and human reality. That’s the part we think we understand – but when we go back to think a bit more about it, we may realize we didn’t.

That message is in our other readings, too, and in our lives – each and every one of us. We’re called to ministry, but sometimes our human-ness gets in the way of it.

Paul, in writing to the Romans, is highlighting for them how easy it I to get caught up in the day to day stuff that can bring us down. How we all can start making judgements and decisions based on what is easy or popular, rather than what is faithful and right. He is identifying how we as Christ followers ought to act, rather than how we often do act. Don’t seek out vengeance, leave that to God. Don’t do evil to someone just because they have done evil to you first. Don’t be jealous or petty, but give all that you have – emotionally and physically – to those around you. It sounds great – but it’s hard to do.

When was the last time we applied these lessons to our lives? When was the last time we failed in these lessons? I myself have not given as much as I could have, I’ve turned away from people in need, I’ve had un-Christian thoughts – and that’s just this week!

The Gospel takes us in the same lesson, the sharp reminder that to fully live out our faith is not always easy. Jesus is telling his disciples that he will need to suffer – and Peter wants none of it. So Jesus is harsh in his reply; he’s really driving home that even after ALL of this, after all of the teachings and conversations and years spent traveling together, Peter is still focused on the here and now, the earthly things, the comfortable things. But ministry isn’t like that: Jesus reminds Peter – and us – that truly following God means giving up some earthly comforts. It means facing burdens and challenges. It means suffering may happen. It means giving up the focus on THIS life, losing this earthly trap, in order to gain a perspective on the coming of the kingdom. It means giving up the easy and popular reality in order to exercise a calling, by God, to a specific ministry.

For Peter, it was helping to establish the church – the institution which would forever memorialize the death and resurrection of Christ. For the Romans, it was the calling to live in more loving and accepting community as people of faith. For Moses, it was speaking against injustice and leading people to the worship of God.

For us, then, who are still in our journey, we need to examine the lesson. We need to consider where we have become comfortable, complicit, earthly. We don’t yet have the luxury of looking back form the end of our story; but we have the exciting opportunity to assess the story as it unfolds, re-examining the parts that we think we understand. It’s a chance for us to consider what we are afraid of, what we are reluctant to do, and what God is calling for us to do. Is our ministry one of hospitality? One of healing? One of teaching? One of inviting?

Whatever it is, when we are meant to do it, God will make sure it happens. When we try to run away from it, God will re-direct us.  When we lose our focus, God will remind us.

So we move forward – as a people of faith, as a people of community, as a people following the great I AM. I pray our journey is less difficult of those in our readings today, that we are less stubborn and obstinate and reluctant. I pray that we all can move from a place where we think we understand it all, to a place where we take off our shoes in respect and simply delight in feeling called to God’s holy presence.

Sermon on Matthew 15.10-28

So! Some people will do just about anything to get out of preaching a tough sermon, like our Gospel reading from last week. We have Jesus responding to something that’s been said just before we jump in, we’ve got Jesus acting in rather non-Jesus ways, we’ve got an apparently sudden change of mind and heart. It’s a tough gospel passage. In case you missed last week, well – so did I! So, I decided that we shouldn’t just skip over the tough stuff. That’s why the gospel passage I’ve just read is the same one assigned for last Sunday; my thoughts here are the ones you would have heard last week had I been able to be here. So. Let’s delve into Matthew.

We start with a great declaration: “LISTEN AND UNDERSTAND!” Then Jesus reminds us that what we eat is going to literally go right through us; our food is earthly, it stays in this realm. Our food, our eating habits, our table manners, do not defile us. But what we say, how we justify our actions, CAN defile us.

Let’s think about this – where is this coming from? Well, Jesus has just been approached by some Pharisees, who have gone out of their way to insult him. They’ve shared their unsolicited opinion on how Jesus and his disciples have broken tradition, broken God’s law, by not washing their hands before eating. Now these Pharisees aren’t known for being compassionate folks – they’re known for being harsh and judgemental and critical of anyone and everyone who doesn’t live up to their (unattainable) standards. These are folks who have even turned against their own families, friends, neighbours with their sharp tongues and acerbic assessments; denying so-called “unworthy” people access to the synagogue, to the teachings, to the community of faith.

It is in front of these folks that Jesus calls to the crowd and says LISTEN AND UNDERSTAND. He’s letting the people know that they are worthy and loved in the eyes of God. Letting them know that the judgement does not come from a few self-chosen elite humans who are themselves imperfect.

It’s a bold move by Jesus; it’s a stark statement that he is making to the Pharisees and to the crowds. He’s setting the foundation for a shift of power away from human rulers and toward God; a shift from a focus on the set of laws and habits to a focus on living and loving.

Is it any wonder, then, that the disciples point out how offensive his comments were to the Pharisees?  Is it any wonder that Jesus isn’t concerned so much about them, but is more concerned about the crowds? Jesus even goes so far as to suggest that these holy people, in their adherence to the law and not to love, are meeting their own agenda and ignoring God’s will, and in fact demonstrating how they are defiled, as the darkness dwells within them,

Not washing your hands before eating isn’t the wisest choice hygienically, but it’s not going to prevent you from a relationship with God. What you say to one another, and how you treat each other – well now that is something that matters as it reflects your heart – your love, your compassion, your interest in community. Or the lack thereof.

Our own relationships today are the same – we may not remember every word, every encounter – but we do remember how people have made us feel. And so our challenge here is to realize that what we do and say will similarly have an impact on the people we encounter – if we judge harshly, we will be showing our own defilement; but when we respond with compassion and love, regardless of our human imperfections - we are showing our understanding of being worthy children of God.

Then of course, Jesus moves on. And his disciples follow him. And so does a woman. In Matthew’s account, she’s a Canaanite; in Mark’s version she’s Syro-Phoenician. Does it matter? Well, not terribly… but the distinction is important. The Syrians and Phoenicians were both unfriendly states next to the Israelites. The Canaanites had lived in that land, near Tyre and Sidon, until the Israelite invasion. So – wherever this woman is from, we get the point that she is not one of them. She is not welcomed, she is not wanted, she is – well, ick. One of THEM. Avoid eye contact.

And then she speaks – she engages – despite all the laws telling her she can’t, she speaks to Jesus, asking for his help. And Jesus does: nothing. He remains silent. He ignores her. This is quite different from what we’ve been seeing of Jesus – chapter 14 of Matthew is talking about all the miracles he’s been doing for the people: feeding the 5,000; walking on the water; calming the storm; healing everyone brought to him at Genesserat.  Jesus, our Jesus, who has been showing nothing but compassion and grace and love for all, does nothing.

Maybe he’s waiting to see what the disciples will do. After all, they’ve just shown that they’re not fully understanding what this ‘ministry’ thing is all about, with the whole defilement thing they had to ask him to explain. I can picture Jesus’ exasperation: Do you STILL not understand?! Sigh. Let me tell it to you again, plainly. Love one another; show compassion to all, don’t judge.

So here, we have Jesus doing nothing, with a woman clearly asking for help not even for herself but for her daughter! This is the PERFECT test case for the disciples to step up, to respond in loving service. To put into action the lessons they’ve just learned by Jesus’ examples and words. The timing is ideal; the disciples just need to think “What would Jesus Do?”; he even gives them the space to jump in.

But they don’t, do they? They get stuck in their old ways. A woman – we don’t talk to them. A woman speaking to US?! That’s even worse – so bold, no modesty, we want to avoid women like that. And oh my goodness, this brazen, inappropriate person isn’t even a Jew! OI! Hey Jesus, don’t you see all the earthly cultural norms this woman is breaking? Don’t you recognize how awful she is? Send her away! Tell her to get lost!

Can anyone else picture Jesus just hanging his head and sighing again? So he says exactly what the disciples seem to expect: I was sent for the chosen few. The lost sheep of Israel. The in-crowd. The cool kids.

And I can almost imagine what Jesus is thinking: Okay, disciples, jump in – realize that this behavior is NOT how I act, that it’s SO out of character that it MUST be a test. Jump in and offer to help her, help her daughter. Get out of your own heads enough to see that this woman is worthy of love and respect. Go ahead. Jump in!

And: they don’t. Again.

And here’s where the woman gets REALLY bold. REALLY daring – she kneels in front of him. This has become aggressive as Jesus is now forced to acknowledge her: he either has to change his path to get around her, or he has to touch her – which would make him ritually unclean. And despite this aggressive posturing, her position becomes one of supplication. She is kneeling, after all, with a simple request. Lord, help me. I have nowhere else to go, I have nothing left. Help me.

Again, this would be the PERFECT time for the disciples to jump in – to recognize the desperation, the blatant grief and suffering.  And again, they don’t. So Jesus takes it one step further. He does the least Jesus-like thing he can do. He insults her. You’re a dog! He says. You’re a savage beast, you don’t even deserve the smallest amount of what I have to give to my family.

Again I imagine Jesus’ thoughts: OKAY disciples, that’s as nasty as I can get. SOMEONE say something. SOMEONE speak up. SOMEONE shout out that this is wrong, that this goes against everything I stand for, that this is exactly the opposite of what I’ve been teaching you. Someone speak up for this poor woman before she debases herself any further!

            But they don’t. They’ve become complacent, they’ve returned to the ‘normal’ way of thinking, where cultural divides matter more than human compassion. Where associations outweigh need. Where society dictates norms. Where my personal preferences are more important than your stated needs.

            And so Jesus realizes that they don’t get it yet, that this woman has suffered even more while he’s been waiting for his disciples to jump in. And so Jesus acts exactly as he should, exactly how we all expect. Exactly how his disciples DON’T expect, which may be what they need to shake them out of their comfort zone and into active ministry. Jesus shows her his great, perfect love – just as she deserves.

Woman, great is your faith. To stand up against injustice. To challenge structures that oppress. To risk her own well-being for the benefit of her daughter. To declare her worthiness to receive the crumbs of God’s grace that fall from the table. To seek God’s love as it stood right before her. To see beyond human barriers and barricades to a place where peace and justice prevail. To see love, in human form, and to continue towards that love despite opposition and rejection. Great is your faith indeed, you sassy, outspoken woman. Let it be done for you as you wish!

Jesus hasn’t done this because he’s changed his mind; rather he responds with such love and compassion because the woman has suffered enough – by her circumstance, by his insult, by the disciples’ lack of action. Let it be done for you as you wish, Jesus says, and I’ll try to teach my disciples another time. You understand; they do not: I’ll not make you suffer this indignity any longer just because my followers are a little slow on the uptake today.

Jesus heals the woman’s daughter because he can, because the disciples can learn the lesson after all, because all of his followers can learn the lesson. He heals her daughter despite all the earthly reasons why he shouldn’t, he heals her daughter to remind all of his disciples (from that time to this) that no matter what labels, what actions, what history a person has, they are worthy of love, of compassion, of grace. Jesus heals her daughter and commends her faith to remind us that we too, are worthy of love (even when we feel unloveable), of compassion (even when we’ve been told we’re not), of grace – because at some point we all just want-hope- to receive the crumbs of grace falling from God’s table.

So this passage is difficult indeed. It’s full of cultural references and societal norms, that have changed over time and space. And so we can get confused by the surface issues of how people are acting and reacting and miss the ultimate message. Because this story is about US, here and now. Sometimes we’re the Pharisees, harshly judging others; sometimes we’re the crowd hoping against hope to be found worthy of compassion. Sometimes we’re the disciples, trying our best to understand yet failing to respond to the most basic opportunity in front of us. Sometimes we’re like the woman, unafraid to speak up in faith despite how unpopular it may make us. Sometimes we just want to be known and seen and loved; to be free from labels that divide and just be known as a child of God.

So at the heart of the matter, this gospel passage is a lesson for us all: to love. Love fully, completely, with all that you have. Don’t deny love because of laws, or because someone else said to. Don’t deny love because your friends are, or because society may frown on it. Don’t deny love because of who might be watching or because you feel uncomfortable. Don’t deny love to anyone, anytime.

The lesson Jesus wants all his disciples to understand is to live in and share love. Love boldly, outrageously, ridiculously, faithfully. Love the way that you have received love – as a wondrous gift from God.

Sermon, 13 July: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

When I was little, I knew exactly what my life was going to be like: career, family, location, all of it. It was a great plan, the stuff of movies and modern-day-fairy-tale children’s stories. And every time I started to talk about the plan, it got a little bit bigger… By the time I was 10, it had grown from the 5-year old’s “I wanna be a lawyer!” to “I’m going to practice corporate law at the international court in the Hague”; from “I wanna get married” to “I’ll be married by 22, to a lesser Noble, and we’ll live on his estate in England.” Yup. Typical kid stuff, really. Not fully understanding what my dream was growing into, not really knowing even what those words implied, not really having a clue that I was actually saying words to please someone else.

Every time I talked about the plan, though, I got the same response from the adults in my life: “Why not? You have the potential. You can make that happen.”

WOW. Potential! That’s great! Exciting – invigorating. One minor proviso: at 5 I had no idea what “potential” meant. The definitions I got went along the lines of “ability to make it happen’. While not inaccurate, I was still in the land of magic wands and fairy dust. Potential? Sure. If I have enough potential  - likely a type of magic powder or a spell or what have you, one that makes things happen exactly as I had planned – then I can keep the story growing and growing, right?

So enter reality. Potential. Not a magic wand or incantation. Not the limit of what defines someone. And – this is important – not a measure for success or failure.

In my case, if I were to measure how my life is going based on the dreams of the child, based on the potential I was told I had as that 5-year old… well then my life is a total failure.

Again- enter reality. My life is NOT a failure. I have a career I love, in a place I adore, and am surrounded with such amazing friends and family that I couldn’t wish for more. I am able to love and serve God in ways that I never expected – I am able to engage in the community in meaningful, energizing ways. I can even vacation with friends in extreme situations – and LOVE it – in places and formats that weren’t even on my radar as that 5 year old. So… failure? Not at all. Success? I think so!

Here’s the reality about potential. When I was 5, dreaming of tiaras and legal documents (I always have been weird!), I had the potential to do that – but I also had the potential to be a parish priest. I had the potential to become someone who loves canoeing. I had the potential to be the type of friend that others want to be around.

I had all sorts of potential as a child, just waiting to come out of me and grow.

Or, to come out of me and NOT grow.

The potential to be a lawyer? I tried some classes, I journeyed in that direction – and learned it wasn’t for me. The potential to marry that English Noble? Well that’s not really potential, is it? That’s more of a fantasy.

Potential – true potential – is something that refers to an as-yet unrealized ability. It’s something that’s there, that can be brought out. BUT – someone’s potential is not just going to pop out and happen on it’s own. No, it will take work, and care, and attention. Like a seed, really.

A seed has the potential to grow. Every thing that a seed will become – a bean, a tomato, a zucchini, whatever – everything of what will be can be found within that first tiny seed. It’s entire potential is lying there inside. But the seed, as we know, needs external involvement. A seed needs to be planted – whether it’s scattered or placed in rows or individually cultivated in a window box. It needs to have the nutrients of the soil, the right acidity, the right dampness, the right sand-to-clay ratio. It needs water – not too little, not too much – let’s not go there right now!. It needs the sun, or shade; heat, or coolness; space for broad roots and runners, or close rows for companion plantings. Each seed will look ifferent, will need different things, and will produce different harvests. Some seeds will do better than others – but they will all grow. They will all produce. They will all realize that potential that has been in them from the start.

Admittedly, of course, we don’t expect that growth all at once. It’s not like we drop a pea on the earth one day and the next day there’s a full plant weighted down with pods. That type of growth only (seems to) happen with cucumbers and zucchinis. No – the growth, the realizing of a seed’s potential, takes time. It takes constant growth. It takes some trimming back, some staking, some weeding. But it will grow, and develop new realities at each stage of life.

This is how we too are kind of like seeds. We have all sorts of potential within us. But, we have different needs – we too need to be nourished, cared for, planted. We need to receive various gifts that help us break out of our seed so that we too can grow. And we too will realize our own potential, like the growth of a seed, a little at a time, at our own pace and ability, no matter what others expect of us. Our ministry is inside us, waiting to come out, constantly growing and developing until such times as we are ready to bear fruit.

This is the relity of ministry: it’s a process. It takes time and effort. It takes attempts and failures. It takes risks and hopes. It takes faith. But when we can combine the potential that God has placed within us, with our energies and skills and abilities, we can flourish. We can produce. We can go out and live out faith through active ministry in God’s world. When God wills it, God will make it happen. It may surprise us; we may recognize potential for something new at any stage of life, it may not be quite what we were expecting. But it will benefit the kingdom, in large ways and in small; in quick ways and in long-term development.

What we offer, when we live out our potential, is our produce – our fruit. What we offer is the harvest for the kingdom. And we certainly know about harvest: sometimes it’s a great year, sometimes it’s not. But there is always a harvest. Whether our seeds return a hundred-fold, sixty-fold, or thirty-fold, they do return a harvest, a surplus, a reward for the planting. They do surprise us with the explosion of potential that has come out in the world.

And that, in terms of the parable, is what Jesus wants us to know. Sometimes, our ministry will make us feel like there is much fruit – a hundred times more than what we started with. Sometimes, we may feel like our ministry isn’t doing what we want it to – we’re barely getting a thirty-fold reaction. BUT – Jesus wants us to know that 30-fold is not a bad thing! It’s still 30 times more than what we had to start with – it’s 30 times more ministry, more fruit, more faith. Jesus NEVER says that the return on the scattered seeds will be zero. Because he wants us to know that our ministries are always woth it, are always full of potential – even if we don’t see or recognize it. The kingdom of God is a place where the realization of potential is celebrated – where the multiplied fruits of our labours are shared – where the harvest of the crops become a feast where everyone can join together in an abundance of grace. The kingdom of God is a place full of potential – but only because it has been lived out in this realm, in this time, in this opportunity for ministry. The feast in the kingdom is possible because of the scattered and hopeful potential waiting inside all of us. So let’s get out there and scatter seed – plant ministry – prepare for growth – with the hope and belief that what we offer to the glory of God will land in the good soil, will not be crowded out by thorns, will not be victim to drought or flood – but will be tended, cared for, watered, and appreciated by those who come after us. Let’s live our ministries knowing that God will make them grow in the world around us that we might all share in the harvest for the Kingdom’s feast.