A Love-ly sermon for proper 22

Song of Songs 2.8-13; Psalm 45.1-2,6-9; James 1.17-27; Mark 7.1-8,14-15,21-23

            I'm going to challenge us this morning to think - just think, no conversation please - think of everything that's wrong with this church.

            *pause*

            Got a list in your mind?  Good.

            Now, I'd like you think - again, no conversation please - of everything that you love about this church.

            *pause*

            Okay? Got that list too? Excellent.

            So with your two silent lists, I'm going to invite you to start dividing these into 2 columns: those things that are spiritual, and those that are earthly.

            Ah. Now that's a harder exercise, isn't it? Because now we're looking at both the intention and the outcome of those things.

            And now for the next difficult reflection. With our four groupings now: spiritual wrongs, earthly wrongs, spiritual love, earthly love: what list is the longest? And is that the list that you *want* to be the longest?

            Now, if your list of spiritual loves is huge, and earthly loves is a little smaller, and the wrongs are negligible: great.

            But I'm going to guess that many, if not all, of us have some of those things in the "earthly wrong" list that still kinda niggle at us.

            So here's the most difficult question of the day. What are you going to do about that? How will you take action in such a way that the 'wrong'ness of that thing can shift over into the love side of things? What will you do so that someone else can only ever experience that thing as an aspect of spiritual love that's here in earthly form.

            Here's what you're NOT going to do about those wrong things, though.

            Complain. Or blame.

            Even though that is the easiest way we respond to what we don't like, the fastest reaction, and sometimes the best way we feel better about ourselves. As Christians, we just don't do that.

            Instead, we take action. Lovingly, without grandstanding, in humble service. We do all that we can to love one another, to focus on the spiritual rather than the earthly.

            That's what God wants us to do. That may mean giving up our bulletins if we have so many worshippers that we run out. It's inviting a newcomer to coffee hour, to sit WITH us, even if that disrupts "our table" downstairs. It's encouraging someone to join us at bible study so we can learn together form the scriptures. It's offering to accompany someone in prayer as the journey through a difficult time.

            It's - well, it's many things. We could do another list in our minds, if we wanted.

            And actually, that's not a bad idea. Because that's the list that we can use to discern how God is calling us to love.

            So let's think about that: how is God inviting you into humble, loving service, in and through the church?

            *pause*

            Because that is the message of the scriptures today. To act in love, in humble service to our God.

            The Song of Songs speaks of love, both literal and allegorical: between two people, between human and the landscape, between human and divine, between earthly and holy. Arise, my love, come away from the earthly. Arise, my love, come be enveloped by my love.

            The psalmist echoes this love-in-action with the heart being stirred up, as though in a marriage, where righteousness (or right action) and justice are celebrated as coming from God as a gift and as a privilege to share and extend with the world.

            James is almost poetic in how he details how we should not judge others but reflect our own ministries: being quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger. That our best way to be doers who act is to keep God pure and undefiled in our heart and love-based actions; to care for the vulnerable and to keep ourselves unstained by the world - focused on God.

            And Jesus himself is quite clear on this, in the Gospel. Love God, even when it's inconvenient to your current practice. The Pharisees think they're above judgement as they are doing everything  the way they have always done it - but they don't realise that in doing so, they are actually putting up barriers for people to know God, to worship God, to serve God. They actually think that keeping people out of the worshipping community will please God. Can you imagine if someone stood at the doors here and told people NOT to come in? I doubt God would be pleased. And it's not about the dirt on their hands - the dirt that God made, after all. Yes, clean hands are a good hygienic idea, but they are not indicators of a clean and God-loving heart. Hence why Jesus encourages them to love instead.

            It's why Jesus continues to encourage us - all of us, every day, to love. Love instead of anger, love instead of division, love instead of indifference.  Love- as God's commandment.

So how is God calling you into loving service today? Let's make that list, and start doing it.

Let us pray. Holy God; help us to know and love you in all we do.

Help us to move past our earthly moments of complaint into moments of service.

Help us to not say "I would have done it better" but "how can I help you?"

Help us to not seek to embarrass or shame someone, but to empower and support them.

Help us to not be focused on the earthly faults, but on the spiritual potential.

Help us to abandon human expectations and embrace your Holy commandments.

Help us to find ways to see with love, to act with kindness, and to commit our lives to love.

Amen.

sermon, 26 aug

            What was your last prayer request? Can you remember?

            Hopefully, somewhere in the recent past was a prayer of thanksgiving - an intercession - a confession.

            But the last time you made a petition - this is a prayer where we ask God for help for ourselves. Can you remember what you asked for?

            And - more specific to today's scriptures: can you remember what the circumstances were that inspired you to ask?

            The thing is, we tend to be good at asking God for help when we're in need. When we're in trouble. The 9-1-1 prayer OH GOD HELP! We're good at that.

            And we tend to be good at asking God to grant our wishes- Lord, please give me X. Even though we know that our prayers should not look like a Christmas list, and that our Almighty Lord is not a sparkling fairy godmother waiting to bippity-boppity-boo our pumpkins into carriages.

            But we ask for help from God when we are in need. This is normal.

            So here's the next ponderance. When was the last time you asked for God's help when things were going well? When it was all rainbows and butterflies and cartoon characters singing and dancing?

            Hmm. Because this is where and when we slip. When things are going well, we shift the focus again to earthly realities instead of divine relationship.

            And this is why our scriptures today remind us that we need God's help at all times - the good and the bad and the neutral - if we want our prayer life to be healthy and heavenly. It is when things are going well that we should be connecting with God the most. And not just with thanksgiving - as wonderful and important as that is. But humbly, recognising that with good things comes responsibility; a duty of care.

            It's why Solomon begins his reign with prayer; he's living an intentional and careful  balance of humility and confidence, of the earthly "I've GOT this!" and the heavenly "only with you can I do this." That the world is not about titles but about how we walk with God. Solomon understood that as David's successor he had BIG shoes to fill! As guardian to the Ark of the Covenant he was duty bound and honour-filled to demonstrate his faith through prayer.

            This theme continues in the lesson from the Ephesians. God wants us to be faithful and strong in our faith; but to remember where that strength comes from. God does not want to be a supporting character in our lives, but a starring role; that we are strong in the Lord and in the Lord's power, equipped for ministry not by our own doing but by the gifts and graces that have been lavished upon us. Paul is clear that this comes through perseverance in prayer and supplication, a commitment to service in the Lord. A heavenly focus of how to journey through the earthly realm.

            The Gospel passage today again details this difference. Jesus says he IS the living bread from heaven. And the folks don't have any point of reference: while our minds immediately go to the Eucharist, that's not yet a thing for the followers of Jesus. The last supper hasn't happened yet in the narrative.

            So the people try to dispute, and who can blame them! The closest reference of heavenly bread is a loose and long-ago reference to manna. Yet this is clearly not what Jesus was talking about. Manna, as we know, served the period of the exodus as an earthly form of relationship builder between people and God. Of the earth, for earthly purposes: empty stomachs and starving souls. God is providing a divine gift of earthly substance: the bread from heaven; without which people would perish. TBTG many, if not all, of us here today have never known that type of desperate dependency for basic food.

            But Jesus is speaking of something else: bread from heaven. Spiritual nourishment. Soul food - quite literally. A shared experience of divine revelation. A mystical presence of the divine, manifest here - NOW! - in this realm. The boundary or division - veil - between this world and the next are so thin that God comes here.

            Clearly, a divine gift. A WOW moment for anyone who could look past the improbability ot it, and receive. Because Jesus is offering to a huge crowd of seekers something amazing. This is not just a hint of deity, just barely enough to get you through the day. This is God's holy abundance. Eternal heavenly nourishment. Overabundance. A literal buffet of grace and salvation: at any time, and for any one. For every one. For all who would seek it.

            But it's not easy: it's no wonder that so many rejected what Jesus was offering - why so many continue to reject what is continually and continuously offered. It's too hard.

            Because receiving this heavenly bread means giving up our earthly status. It means refusing to believe that we can go it alone, that we're self-made people, that the good days are our own doing. It means asking for help when things go well, and deferring to God's power in our lives. It's admitting that our best, our very best, is not because of our own doing.

            It's humbling. It's dependence. It's deference. It's not what culture says - and always says - we should want.

            But we know that this is how we will be truly fed. When we come to the table, asking to be fed with the bread we need for today, we are coming with humble and contrite hearts. We are coming as beloved creature; prayerful, expectant, delighted.

            And trusting. Because God does not let us down. God does not let us be spiritually starved. The bread from heaven is there that we may see it, know it, and feast upon it.

            So I pray that we all will have open eyes and hearts to acknowledge our hunger. I pray that we will live in gentle humility to ask God to help us through this earthly time. And I pray that we might have the faith to declare our confidence in Jesus: the one with the words of eternal life. The one to whom we have come, and believe as the Holy One of God.

Sermon: God loves the weirdos

            This morning we are celebrating! Praise the Lord, alleluia, it is a GREAT DAY here in the household of God.

            And we're celebrating because we have MUCH to celebrate!

            We have a baptism this morning - we have our sea cadets here this morning - we have our Sunday School wrap-up this morning - we are welcoming friends from the community this morning - AND it's our parish anniversary this morning.

            And there's countless other ways that we are celebrating this morning. It's a beautiful day! We are gathered to worship in freedom! We have a shared meal coming up! We all have enough clothes that no one's naked! (Or wearing camel hair)!

            Because - let's be honest - camel hair would be weird. Especially as we don't live where camels live.

            But sometimes, even in our celebrations - daily, annually, or once in a lifetime - weirdness can creep in. And I think that's okay.

            Let's consider the John we've moulded our anniversary around. John the baptiser. John of the wilderness. Good old JB, who was, in a word: weird. John was WEIRD. But we celebrate him - and we celebrate his weirdness.

            Because we know that his weirdness was of God - even from where and how he was named! And we know that he used his weirdness FOR God; coming out of the desert to stand in the waters of the Jordan and baptise people, preaching forgiveness of sins, and generally delighting in the abundant mercies and blessings of this life that so many took for granted.

            We celebrate the weirdness of John as a way to remind ourselves, too, that God's grace is being lavished upon us, flowing more freely than water, immersing us in the glory of God.

            Oh, my friends, there is MUCH to celebrate.

            And when we celebrate, it means we are coming together. We are choosing to be a community - from a variety of places, with a variety of experiences, with a variety of opinions, and with a variety of gifts.

            These gifts came from God, and we are constantly being invited to use them. And the best part is, we have already agreed to do just that. In our own baptism, and every time we renew our baptismal vows (which, by the way, is often). We have promised a number of things to God about how we will treat God, and how we will treat each other.

            Our baptismal vows challenge us to action. Baptism is not a passive act, it's a revolutionary act that should inspire how we go out there into God's world with God's people to embrace God's mission.

            So this doesn't just mean finding the people that we like, or the folks that we agree with - that means seeking out the Christ in everyone - the neighbour that annoys us and the grandmother we adore. It means respecting the dignity of all - the clerk who sold us coffee or the doctor who saved our life. It means seeking justice for everyone - even when it's awkward - and taking action. It's not enough for us to despise the notion of children in concentration camps in the southern US, we also have to look inwardly to our own systems of immigration and Child and Family Services. Because I assure you - they can all improve - and it's going to take some brave, determined, weird people to make things better.

            And making things better will be an act of faith. It will be taking what we say we believe and risking in order to make God's dream for peace and justice a reality.       Because THAT is what we promise in our baptism. THAT is what we declare when we recite the creed. THAT is what we mean when we invite people in to the household of God: it's not simply an invitation to a Sunday morning service, it's celebrating BEING the church and empowering our weirdness to embrace the world with love.

            Love is the answer. Love is the right thing to do. Love is what God hopes we will use our gifts for. Love is what God challenges us to see in one another.

It is this love - this perfect, unconditional, unchanging love - that we celebrate today. A love so pure that it enfolds us every moment, in every circumstance, with every opportunity. Love is what brings us to baptism. Love is what carries us into the world. And love is what will bring the kingdom ever closer.

            So yes: it's a bit weird, but that doesn't mean it's not right.

            Love: Love God, love your neighbour. Love your enemies, love the stranger. Love the orphan, love the widow, love the immigrant. Love those who proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. Love those who you want to love, love those who you don't. Love.

            In this day and age, when culture and society try to pit us against one another, the courage to love and persevere in love is weird. It may not be walking-around-wearing-camel-hair weird, but it IS counter-cultural, and community-minded, and unselfish, and - weird.

            So that's our choice: today, and every day. We can exist in the status quo, or we can live fully, and love.

            I hope that you will choose love: that you will extend love, that you will embrace love, that you will receive love when it's offered. And always remember: God loves the weird - God's the one that gave you that weirdness in the first place, and God gave you a community in which to celebrate your weirdness. So be inspired by it, find new ways to live it, and go out in the world and just love: and celebrate that you - with all your God-given weirdness - are a member of the household of God.

A funeral homily

Matthew 11.25-30

         The yoke isn't always easy. Because life can be difficult - it can be heavy. 

         And if we try to do it alone, we tire, and stumble, and generally are miserable. The yoke goes off-kilter when there is but one trying to pull it. It is too much to be done well, to be done properly.

         Life is heavy; and it is too much to be done by ourselves without help.

         And so God provides for us ways to deal with the heaviness.

         The solution: coming together with God and with one another. 

         For when we do that, we are sharing the load. We are sharing the heaviness.  100 pounds for one person is unbearable; that weight for 10 people is possible; that weight for 100 people is negligible; and the community that forms as the weight is shared lifts us, supports us, encourages us. The weight is no longer a struggle, but a gathering point. 

         And when it comes to emotional weight: grief, sorrow, suffering - that is a weight that moves beyond what can be weighed on a scale and into a heaviness of heart.

         This heaviness is what we feel today; what we have felt over the past week as we have journeyed in a world where we love Vic but see him no more. 

         This is where we lean on each other the most. When our hearts are so heavy that they threaten to paralyse us.

         And this is exactly where our faith comes in, to share in how we carry that weight. To remind us that God never intended us to bear this weight, this grief, alone. 

         The weight does not diminish; faith does not magically remove it from us. Rather, it provides a divine helper to come alongside us, to walk with us, to share the load. 

         It is our faith that invites us to recognise Jesus is beside us. In our grief; Jesus shoulders the yoke; helps to guide and direct us so that we can find again the right path, the correct journey, the way that we are wanted to go. 

         It can feel strange at first, as we start to discover and develop a new 'normal'; we continue to stumble and bumble, but Jesus never lets us go. He never lets us journey alone. He stays right beside us as we get back on our way, where we get back to being able to carry the weight of this life. 

         And he doesn't leave us then; he never leaves us. He never wants for us to think we have to journey alone, no matter what we think we can do. 

         This is the truth that brings us comfort. To know that we are never without help and direction. To know that we will never be left behind. To know that we will never have to carry the heaviness of this world alone. 

         It is comfort, indeed. The comfort of faith. 

         This is this faith which Vic proclaimed, in word and action, every day of his life. It is the faith he celebrated in every relationship: with family, with friends, with anyone he encountered. He lived his faith fully, and is an example to the rest of us. 

         So while the burden of our grief is heavy, we are helped through it by the gift of faith. The faith that assures us that Vic is not gone, but has moved to the next life. The faith that promises us that we will see Vic again at the Resurrection. The faith that sustained Vic in this life and is rewarding him in the next. 

         Vic's journey in this life was with Jesus. It was a walk of faith, of hope, and of love. I pray we all might have faith as strong as Vic's, that we too would live in hope.