Sermon - St John's Cathedral, Winnipeg: Pente+24

            Good morning. I want to start this morning with a word of gratitude to your rector, my friend Paul, for the invitation to preach here this morning. St John's is my spiritual home; this community played an integral part of my early days in ministry and so it's great to come 'home'. Thank you.

            So I'm here on vacation. Last weekend I was at the Winnipeg Jets Heritage Classic hockey games. This is as good as it gets for a Jets fan living in southern Ontario. It was great. The energy, the enthusiasm, the crowds. Some 33,240 people in Investor's Group stadium, watching hockey. But what an experience! What a great time to be part of a big crowd, part of a big event. Part of history - people will be talking Teemu's winning goal for a long time.

            Sitting next to me was a little guy - about 4 years old - and his dad. Despite the carefully planned out stadium seating, there were times when he couldn't see. So he went onto his dad's lap, to get a better view. And sometimes, he went on his dad's shoulders - so he wouldn't miss anything. That's logical, right? Something big is happening, something for the history books, you want to be able to say "I was there! I *saw* that!"

            Sound familiar? Well, that's exactly the same mentality that we hear about in today's gospel. Zacchaeus is a short little guy, and he's in a big crowd, and he wants to see what's going on. But Zacc doesn't have the benefit of graduated seating, or someone's shoulders to stand on, so he does the best he can - and scurries ahead, right up a tree.

            Now why did he do that? Why didn't he instead just move to the front of the crowds, or ask some friends to let him through?

            Luke gives us the answer right in the description of the man. 9 words with a world of meaning: "He was a chief tax collector, and was rich." This is not just a job and a socio-economic status. This speaks about the kind of person Zacchaeus was, and how he was situated with the others in the community.

            He was a tax collector. And not just any tax collector, the CHIEF tax collector. And rich, to boot. The best tax collector in Jericho; the one with the most authority, with staff working under him, with lots of money from his job.

            Hmm. Now we know that tax collectors collected the monies that they had to, to pass along to the government - but to make their own living had to collect even more from people. So they scammed them, they overcharged, they did anything they could to live their own lives. And Zacchaeus - a rich man - was very good at taking other people's money.

            Not exactly the kind of person that average folks would want to associate with. His richness literally came from their own pockets, the clothes from their backs and the meals from their tables. Think of Tevye's song about wanting material comforts in "Fiddler on the Roof" "If I were a rich man, dubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum" - the biblical folks coming to see Jesus could have sung that with Zacchaeus in mind - not working hard, big tall house with rooms by the dozen, the long staircase going up and even longer one coming down - Zacchaeus had all that because the average person paid for it.

            So there he is, short little lonely man, sitting up in the tree, trying to just be by himself. Preferably unnoticed, without attention being drawn to him. And then Jesus walks past. And in typical Jesus style, everyone there is invited into a new way of thinking and being.

            Like a spotlight being shone, and an announcer calling out: Jesus speaks directly to Zacchaeus, and invites himself to the tax collector's for a meal.

            At best, that's presumptuous. But it's so much more than that! Jesus isn't doing this to get himself a good meal at the best place in town. He's highlighting that nothing is hidden from God - he knows exactly who and what Zacc is, and what he has done to all the people in Jericho.

            Yet - despite all this - something BIG happens here. It's simultaneously astonishing and overlooked. Zacchaeus's life is forever altered - and Luke says it this way: "so he hurried down and was happy to welcome him."

            Underwhelming, when we just hear those simple words. But the change that MUST have happened in Zacc's heart for this to take place; its something that only God can do. Zacchaeus knows he is a sinner, that his actions have hurt others, that Jesus is a teacher who is opposing the very government that Zacchaeus works so well for and benefits so greatly from. Yet he is willing to hurry down the tree, to the midst of the crowd, and happily - happily! - welcome Jesus into his home.

            And the people standing there in the crowds do not like it. Because they don't like Zacchaeus - and it's easier to stay angry with that man, that TAX COLLECTOR, than to see in him a beloved child of God who is worthy of God's grace and love and salvation. It's easier for them to judge Zacchaeus on what they know of his past, rather than to appreciate the subtle but powerful change that is happening right before them.

            Yet undeterred, Zacc decides that he wants to start making things right - as right as he can. He promises to give half his possessions to the poor. Half his possessions: imagine giving up half of your home, your clothing, your car, your bank accounts. On the spot. And then, with the half that's left, Imagine searching out everyone you've done business with, to ask if they felt your dealings were fair, and if not offering them four times the deals' value.

            That's a changed man. That's a changed attitude. That's someone who is not only acknowledging and addressing the actions of the past, but intentionally making a change for the future, too. Because Zacchaeus will never again be a tax collector. He will not have staff to do his work, he will not have the creature comforts that come from a position of power and authority. He will not be a rich man any longer - he'll need to find a new home, new employment, and develop new relationships with all the other folks in Jericho. And for any of us who have ever tried to make right relationships and heal broken trusts, we know it takes a long time and a lot of effort.

            And the people he's offended may not want restitution, they may not believe his change. So what if Zacchaeus is no longer a tax collector - someone else will be.

            But Zacchaeus, despite all the challenges and sacrifices and opposition from his neighbours, embraces the opportunity to live the rest of his life in faith. He wants to be like the people that we hear of throughout the other scriptures today - the righteous, living by their faith. Being celebrated for their faith; becoming known for their faith, being upheld in prayer as they continue to grow in faith.

            Isn't that what we all want in our walk with God?

            So I pray that we too might embrace the invitation to live a righteous life as freely as Zacchaues did - not judging others, as the crowds did, but allowing our hearts to be changed by the grace of God.

            May we reflect on our lives and actions, to see ourselves how Jesus himself sees us.

            May we recognise new and exciting opportunities to engage with the world around us to the very best of our ability.

            May we delight in being a child of God - at every age and stage of our spiritual journey - knowing that we are never so sinful that God can not love us, nor are we ever so righteous that we don't need God's redemption.

            May we come out of our own tree - whatever metaphorical tree that keeps us from doing the ministry God is calling us to - and celebrate the privilege of welcoming Christ into our lives.

Sermon 16 oct (pente +22)

Jer 31.27-34; Ps 119.97-104; 2Tim 3.14-4.5; Lk 18.1-8

This morning our lectionary takes us into a great sacred journey. Not an easy one, mind, but sacred. Holy.  Important. And that journey is one that reminds us of what is truly important when God is speaking to us, and when we are speaking to God.

Words. It seems so basic, doesn't it? Words. They matter. We should choose them carefully.

Because there is a world of significance to the words that we hear today.

The prophet Jeremiah reminds us that we belong to God.  He doesn't need to use big long or complicated words: verse 33 simply reads: “I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”  

These words speak that we are in community, as the houses of Israel and Judah, with whom God has established a NEW covenant - one where we are all promised that we might know the Lord as more than words of a history lesson - this is a sacred and Holy agreement.

Through careful words.

Our psalm speaks to us words of commitment: "Your law is my meditation all day long." How many of us could proclaim such a statement of devotion: to commit our every word, our every thought, on the God's law. Yet we can choose now to make that our goal - aligning our words, our meditations, our actions - with those of the divine. Then we too might proclaim "How sweet are your words to my taste!"

Our words can demonstrate to the world around us where we put our faith and our trust - through careful words.

The epistle speaks of integrity, encouraging us to always find the right words so that the message of Good News that we proclaim will inspire others to develop and strengthen their relationship with the living Lord. The words we use will teach, and we want to be careful to teach the right and holy things. Paul writes "Proclaim the message... carry out your ministry fully." Words are ministry, in which we all engage - through careful words.

And the Gospel passage today encourages us to be persistent in using our words to work for justice, and to pray. The woman begs of the unjust judge to "grant [her] justice against [her] opponent!" - and while it may not happen in the time she wants, and it may not be exactly how she wants, what is right will happen in God's way and God's time - through God's careful words.

Words matter. Every word matters. Everything that is said, what is not said - it matters.

So, we as people of the word - of God's words - are reminded to be careful in our use of words. Be careful with the words we use with one another, and with God. Be careful when we use too many words; be careful when we use too few words. Be careful when we use words to hurt, and when we use words to support.

Words matter.

Now, this isn't to say that every single utterance is going to be life-changing. A catch-up call with a friend may be a simple diversion for a while. A lunch with a friend may touch on a subject where the right words can lead to rejuvenated relationship. An "I'm so proud of you!" speaks of love and encouragement - daily words can have a huge impact.

And this is what we should use our words for. Carefully choosing what we will say, and how we will say it, and where we will say it, and when we will say it. Because those things matter too. We wouldn't want a child to hear foul language; obviously. We wouldn't want our hyperbole to be perceived as factual. We wouldn't want someone to hear a momentary frustration and consider it to be our norm.

Rather, we should aspire to use our words to inspire. To convey the message of THE WORD - the word made flesh - Jesus the Christ. We can choose our words to be full of life and faith and hope and love. Now, it's not always easy. Obviously. Even in today's scriptures, where we find words of belonging and commitment and integrity and persistence. Even there, we find doubts and questions:

In Jeremiah, the words question if God's people are in a time of planting or plucking; is it a time of new growth or clean-up at the end of it.

The psalmist in his glee, with more understanding than the teachers and wiser than the enemies - well, there's the change of falling into prideful boasting there. How realistic is his oath to "hold back [his] feet in order to keep [God's] word"?

Paul is writing to Timothy with words of encouragement, to stay true to the course of what he has learned - the unspoken message questioning if Timothy has been so beaten down by the world that he might shift to an easier life, wherein he might be more popular - but less faithful.

And of course, the Gospel. The woman is asking for what is right. And, still she must wait; asking "Does God delay in helping those who cry out day & night?”

We too might find ourselves asking similar questions, using these words about our faith journey. Where am I at in my spiritual growth? How much do I do things for God's glory, as opposed to my own? Am I shifting away from my calling? Why am I not getting the answer I want form my prayers, when and how I want them?

But the answer is there, too. It's always there. In prayer, we use our words to overcome our doubts and our questions, and to do our best to align ourselves with God's will, already active in the world around us. We make our petitions to God, presenting our own needs, that God's will may be done.

It's how the gospel passage starts today: Jesus tells us all, throughout all time and space, to pray always. We need to do this; to use our words to focus on the most important conversation ever; our conversation with God. Then it gets even better, as Jesus encourages us to not lose heart, to not be bogged down by the negative words of this world - the words that cut, that hurt, that divide, that fire up anger and dissent.

Jesus is clear: pray always. Do not lose heart. And when we do that, we celebrate that God is living and loving in this world. When we do that, we use our gift of words to make this world a better place. When we do that, we show the world through what we say and what we do - that we are putting our souls and bodies in the path of the divine.

So let us pray - always. Let us not lose heart. Let us choose our words reflecting that we have chosen the WORD; capital W; word made flesh; come to earth to save all who would receive His word and believe.  

Grateful for inspiration from: https://revgalblogpals.org/category/revised-common-lectionary/

Sermon 02 oct (Pente+20)

Lam 1.1-6; Ps 137; 2Tim 1.1-14; Lk 17.5-10

            We have some difficult readings this morning. And while some folks may prefer to skip over readings like this, there are really good reasons why we should engage with these tough passages. Primarily, I think, because they address the emotions of real life. Today we hear about loss, grief, fear, confusion, sorrow.

            The people in the scriptures are responding with very real reactions, too. There's bitterness, discontent, blaming. People are groaning, complaining, sighing, crying, demanding, and hoping for someone else to do their hard work.

            We've all had days like that, haven't we?

            And the challenge seems to lie, in today's scriptures, with folks who are stuck on the past. Our reading from Lamentations (and really, there's a book whose title lets you know exactly what to expect!). This reading is all about how the people remember 'what used to be'. It's a trend that hasn't changed in thousands of years of history.  When people are feeling thrown out of their comfort zone, faced with change, encircled by a world that doesn't seem to be theirs anymore. Well, that's when we're most in need of comfort, of the 'we've always done it that way before' - the looking back.

            No matter where and when, people have longed for what used to be - at least how it was in their memories. "Ah, the good old days..." some stories seem to start. And we miss them when they are gone, for our memories are of the best possible times in the past. But we have to recognise that they are, in fact, gone. We cannot live in the past, we can only live in the present - otherwise we become stagnant, caught, immobilised. It's like trying to run a obstacle course while facing backwards - clumsy, difficult, and potentially dangerous - all the while feeling alone, left behind.

It's a lament, indeed. And it's not what God wants for us to be caught in.

So how do we move beyond that then? Well, as is usual, Paul reminds us how to do that. And he does this in such a Pauline way - by writing a letter to a someone that is actually feeling this exact way.

            So Paul, in his correspondence with his friend Timothy, puts it bluntly. Accept the grace of Christ Jesus, given to us before the ages began. Learn more and more of the gospel - the GOOD NEWS of Jesus. Put your trust in the Lord your God - have faith - and God will see you through all the trials and tribulations of this life.

            It's a powerful message. And one that Paul supports by tapping into Timothy's own history - he references Tim's grandmother and mother, both women of strong and enduring faith, and encourages Timothy to find a similar faith. It's like Paul is saying 'I know you grieve, but I trust you can come through that pain.' And he knows this, because of his own journey from earthly grief into heavenly joy, from temporal fear to eternal faith. He puts his own focus on God in Jesus, on being an active and contributing member of the community, on living into the reality of the resurrected Christ.

            Paul is also empowering Timothy in this, by suggesting that the very sight of him will make Paul "be filled with joy." He's hoping that Timothy will start to recognise that the joy of Jesus does not have to come in monumental displays (though sometimes it does!). The joy that can be found in the ordinary, daily things - like sharing a meal with a loved one... helping a stranger pick up dropped items... serving the less fortunate at a community meal... the only limit to the possibilities is our decision to stop looking for them.

            Paul is inviting Timothy - and us - to look around ourselves, so that we might find the good news, own the good news as we make it ours, and then share the good news with the world around us.

            Sounds great! So let's do it! Let's change the world with the GOOD NEW of God in Christ!

            Ah - this is where self-doubt starts to creep in, isn't it? "Change the world?" our brains might query. "But I'm only me. Just me. I can't do it all, so I won't even try."

            Sounds familiar? Sound like the apostles in today's gospel? "Increase our faith!" they cry.  Make this easier for me, because I don't think I can do it alone!

            And here's a truth - we can't. None of us - not one - can do it all alone.

            And here's another truth - we're not meant to do it all alone.

            We aren't expected, as Jesus-followers, to have all the answers and solutions to all of the world's problems.  What we are expected to do, though, is to have a little bit of faith - just a tiny amount - and use that faith to do a bit of engaging with God and for God. We're meant to take that little bit of faith and live our lives as authentic, every-day Christians.

            Jesus, when he mentions the mustard seed, was not rebuking his followers by suggesting that they didn't have any faith. I think, instead, he was encouraging them to recognise the potential in the faith that they already had - and encouraging them to then use that faith.

            A little bit of faith, after all, is all we need. It's what we need to get going, to live our mission, to exercise our ministry. Jesus is wanting us all to embrace our faith - our own mustard seed, to celebrate it, to know it, and to allow it to become what it will become.

            That is the beauty of faith. Your faith is your call to mission, your opportunity to love and serve the Lord. And to do this loving and serving in the here and the now, with what you have to offer (and God has ensured that we ALL have gifts to offer) - and to do all of this in the joy that comes from being a child of God.

            So today I invite us all to let go of our own lamentations and grief and doubt and not-yet and 'oh I shouldn't' that come from our pasts, and instead live in the present glory of God.  Be the best mustard seed that you can be. Trust that the big things are in God's control.  Have the faith to do what you can. Change the small things, and the world will begin to change.

            It's not up to us to change the whole world ourselves, but it is up to us to do what we can. And that comes from loving and serving one another, because we love and serve the Lord.

            And when we put that faith into action, I believe that we will see our faith increase - not because God has changed anything, but because we have embraced our faith and grown with it and grown into it.

            So let us not cry out "Increase our faith!" and sit idly by. Let us instead celebrate that God is inviting us on the journey to grow our faith.

            Grow, little mustard seed, grow.

            Grow in love, grow in service, grow in faith.