Easter Vigil Sermon

         Tonight, in our liturgy, we celebrate a number of things: our long and shared history as God’s people, the first awareness of the Resurrection, the renewal of our baptismal vows, and the perpetual dominance of light over and through darkness.

         We use candles, an ages-old tradition, to bring us that transition from darkness to light. But we also recognise the beauty and subtlety of the light, as it overcomes the darkness.

         Darkness, as we know, is important. It's not something we see a lot of, if we think about it. Oh, there are darkER times and lighter times, but true darkness - is rare.

         Yet in darkness, amazing things can happen. Things we cannot comprehend, things we do not understand, but things that shock and surprise us when they come to the light.

         I don't mean negative things - I mean things waiting until the right time to come into the light. Think, for example, of a chick in an egg - or child in the womb. When the time is right, they will know, and they cannot be rushed into new birth. Consider also what happens with seeds - we plant them, deep under ground - not to hide them away, but with full knowledge that they need to be in that darkness as they begin to germinate, in order to produce the fullness of their potential. Locked away, until the right time.

         And, of course, the tomb. The tomb where Jesus lay for 3 days. It was hewn from rock - with a large stone at the door - so no daylight was getting in any cracks, there was no moonshine, or stars twinkling. Just darkness. Until the right time, the opportune time, the time when the scriptures would be fulfilled and the light of Christ would burst forth into the world.

         Except: it seeped into the world. Not unlike the light of a candle, in a dark room. It started small, with just a few witnesses, and gradually - as more and more people saw and believed - the light grew.

         Candles are like that - they start small. But they are consistent. They are a thing of beauty, of safety, of assistance. They lose nothing when they light another candle. They continue doing what they do.

         Much like our faith. This is why we have candles in our churches, and continue - despite this era of electricity - to use candles, to surround ourselves with them, to intentionally light and share a candle at time of baptism.

         Because a candle is not just a light: it is symbolic of the light of Christ. It is a reminder of all the times in our history where we have seen the light edging forth into darkness, refusing to be overcome. The candles, with this connotation, enhance even the sun. As St. Paulinus in the 4^th century declared, noting the numerous candles in the church: “They shine by night and day; thus night is radiant with the brightness of the day, and the day itself, bright in heavenly beauty, shines yet more with light doubled by countless lamps."

         So we surround ourselves with candles - to remind ourselves that we are surrounded by light. Though we generally no longer rely on physical candles to keep us from stumbling in the darkness, we do rely on the light of Christ - as brightly as we will let it grow in our lives - to guide and protect us.

         So tonight we acknowledge the darkness, and know that it has a great purpose. And we acknowledge the light, and know that we ought never take it for granted. And we celebrate the light of Christ - in the paschal flae, in our baptismal candles, in our hearts and ministries - and know that it continues to shine because we want it to shine.

         So may we celebrate that we carry the light of Christ - letting that light so shine before others, that they may see our good works, and glorify our Father in Heaven.

         May we boldly carry the light of Christ - ever-present and empowering and sustaining - thanks be to God.

You Are What You Eat - Maundy Thursday

I’ve been reflecting a lot on food lately. When I was in New York, there were any number of food experiences just waiting to be had!

Of course, those experiences all come with a hefty price tag. And, as with all opulent experiences, as delightful as they are, after a time it can get to be too much – a few times our delegation was choosing to just choose a sandwich and bowl of soup from a tiny grocery store we’d found, rather than going out for yet another meal. How fortunate that our hotel granted access to small microwaves.

So I was still thinking about the joy of home cooking when I arrived home. It was very late Friday night, however, and I was already making plans for an early morning shopping trip for the Saturday. I know we live in a wondrous age when you can literally phone a stranger, tell them your preference, and they will show up on your doorstep with food, in exchange for a bit of money – but after 2 weeks away, I wanted something simple and healthy.

What delight, then, to discover that the friend who had been keeping an eye on my house had gone ahead and stocked my fridge with a number of foodstuffs – there was fresh fruit, and a ready-to-cook flatbread, and fruit, and salad, and a few treat-meals, and more fruit. My goodness, my fridge was a veritable buffet of home-eating happiness. Did I mention the fruit? It’s shocking how little fruit one eats when on the go in New York City.

A few days later, I went food shopping. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. On the shelves before me I saw fresh fruit and vegetables from all over the world, locally made bread products, more dairy products than all of us combined should be consuming in a week, and then that tasty-but-not-good-for-you pre-packaged stuff.

A veritable buffet of food choices. An unimaginable display of culinary possibility. This was – in a word – abundance.

How surprising, then, to hear the comments from some of my other shoppers. Rather than revel in the bountiful delight, there were complaints. “I don’t want to pay that” and “there’s not enough variety” and “I don’t like that brand” and ... well, you get the idea. We complain about the cost of special diets, or the lack of convenience (when did 7 minutes to boil pasta become ‘too long’?), or the choosiness of our families (he only eats red apples, not green apples).

We forget the blessing of the abundance before us. We forget how privileged we are to be eating. In a world where nearly half of our brothers and sisters are undernourished or starving, we see food being casually dumped in the bin or forgotten at the back of the fridge. We don’t consider the spices unused in the cupboard or the condiments in the fridge door to be luxuries.

We don’t see our own abundance, we only see what’s missing. We see scarcity. We see ourselves as deprived. And we know that we are not – but our culture has made it normal for us to perceive this as our truth.

The food is not the problem. Our mindsets are.

And distressingly, this mindset, this theology of scarcity, pervades into our spiritual lives as well.

Just as with physical provisions: we do have enough but do not see it; so too with our spiritual selves. Spiritual nourishment is not only present but abundant: but sometimes our mindsets prevent us from recognising the feast before us.

It’s at this time of year, in our spiritual journey, that we are inviting to shift our way of thinking. Throughout Lent, we have carefully and prayerfully been re-orienting ourselves to focus on God. Jesus is calling us to change ourselves and thereby change the world around us. And I hear, in the Gospel reading tonight, the eternal invitation to reject social convention and societal mindsets.

Jesus himself takes the lowest servant’s role, cleaning the feet of his friends and followers. He changes this dirty and demeaning act into a role of care and compassion and humble ministry, and instructs his disciples to do likewise.

He humbly leads worship at the Passover meal, where the Jewish people commemorate the Exodus story and their liberation from Egyptian oppression – itself a celebration of abundance. The narrative identifies that with God, there has always been enough, and always will be enough for all – if only one is willing to see it.

He then shifts the focus again – putting it back toward God – where the bread and wine become a remembrance for him. The instruction then that this Eucharist – which literally means Great Thanksgiving – is to be shared with many, changes the tradition further. Jesus’ leadership at his own Last Supper confirms his place as leader not just to the few who were gathered together, but for everyone who would gather together in God’s name for the rest of eternity.

So there is a change of mindset. With a few very basic things. Normal things. Everyday, average things. Water. A towel. Some bread, and a little wine.

This normal occurrence of eating with family is no longer basic. What is there is shared, is celebrated, is seen for an abundance that will transcend all time and all people. It will exclude no one, it will be scarce for no one.

Because the nourishment that is being offered is enough. It is more than enough. And tonight – the food that is offered – celebrates that. It celebrates that the mindset is not to be one of closed doors, but of open hospitality. It is a radical idea of inclusion, of sharing resources, of being nourished, and of helping others to receive nourishment.

This nourishment, of very simple physical food, changes the world. It calls us to see the profound gifts that God has given to us, and to recognise how the love of God and love of one another are entirely intertwined. This nourishment gives us all that we need to go out and live the mandate – from which we get the word Maundy – that Christ gave us – to love one another as He first loved us.

This is the nourishment that changes our lives – because this is not a suggestion or an option – it is a commandment. Love. With abundance, with reckless abandon, with all that we have. Because that is how Jesus loves us. There is no scarcity or judgement in how God’s love feeds us; there should be no scarcity in the love which we then share in the world.

This isn’t easy; we’re more inclined to see the negative, the scarcity, the lack. We come up with reasons why someone else isn’t worthy, isn’t good enough, isn’t deserving. Because we are stuck in a world that celebrates division, and one-up-manship, and harsh criticism. We live in a world that remains ready to crucify.

So we are challenged to change. To shift our mindsets. To understand what it truly means to be followers of Christ. It’s not an easy road, it’s not a popular road, it’s not a road that all of our friends and family understand.

But it is a road of abundance. We are not given too little, or just enough. We are given abundantly. We are given such abundance, that we cannot help but share. We are given a great feast, a bountiful buffet, an abundant meal: It is laid out before us as we are invited to the table.

May we have the spiritual courage to accept the invitation that Jesus extends to us. May we know that we are being fed with the food that will sustain us this day. May we delight in receiving food for the journey, being nourished with this abundance of life that is being so freely given.

In so many unexpected ways, the simplest of meals are truly the best we can have. A simple bread; the bread of heaven. A sip of wine; the cup of salvation. The Holy Meal, a foretaste of a heavenly banquet.

In this Eucharist, may we be nourished by Christ, in our hearts, by faith, with thanksgiving.

Palm/Passion Reflection

There are a number of things happening in our worship today - and a significant selection of scriptures to hear from; and we are invited to listen, to hear, to consider, and to apply the lessons that are before us.

So I'm going to highlight one theme very briefly today.

It is this: be kind.

It's what Jesus has said directly to his followers. Be kind.

Be kind to those who spend money differently than you would - the woman buying nard or the young person buying a latte.

Be kind to the people who come together to share a meal - the Lord's supper can take place at a formal dining table or at a soup kitchen.

Be kind to those whose desperation causes them to act with poor judgement - there was no name-and-shame towards Judas as we should not cast judgement through gossip.

Be kind to those who tell you difficult truths about yourself - even after identifying his disciples as future deserters, Jesus still loved them.

Be kind to those who seek peace above all - Jesus would not let violence distress the soldiers sent to arrest him, for they were merely doing their jobs.

Be kind to those who will twist and pervert words for their own political agenda - Judas, the war machine, the gun lobby - instead we pray for those in political authority.

Be kind to those who deny the truth: Peter's private grief was greater than anything anyone else could have said, and he needed his friends to help him continue on.

Be kind to those who will witness in silence - *pause*

Be kind to those who do what is popular instead of doing what is right; as anyone can be caught up in the moment when a parade or rally is underway.

Be kind to those who change their minds - someone's heart can turn to God at any time; we may not be there to see it.

Be kind to those you encounter  - for, like Joseph, or Mary Magdalene, or the mother of Jesus - you never know when one is carrying a heavy heart.

Be kind.

Jesus tells us we will always have the poor with us - the poor in finances, the poor in spirit, the poor in health, the poor in kindness. 

May we hear what Jesus told us, so long ago - to be kind to those whom God has put in our midst, no matter how awkward or difficult or unpleasant or unconventional. For it is kindness that will help us to seek and serve Christ.

Lent 3

  Ex 20.1-17; 1 Cor 1.18-25; Jn 2.13-22
      
            Does anyone remember the hymn "Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild"?  I don't think today's gospel passage was the scripture of the day when the lyricist came up with it.

            We have before us today a really difficult passage. Jesus: God incarnate. Love manifest in human form. Divine reality in the flesh.

            Threatening people with a whip. Chasing away animals, throwing away other people's money, turning over tables - utterly vandalising the marketplace. Why is this happening? What is going on here?

            The place has become a marketplace. It's no longer a place for worship, but for commerce. People would come to the temple to offer their sacrifice, as detailed in the law of Moses. And some helpful folks decided to make those sacrificial animals available, for sale, to help out those who were traveling from afar. A helpful service.
But, as can happen anywhere, corruption slipped in - and some opportunistic folks changed the helpful service into a high-profit, guilt-trip-inducing, consumeristic capital gains arena.

            Jesus - rather dramatically - shifts the focus back to where it should be. He needs the people to see things through a new lens - with a new perspective. He needs the people to know that the Temple was the place where the human and divine connected - and that connection should not come with a hefty price tag.

So while Jesus acknowledged that the law required sacrifice, he also knew that God requested love. Come with those turtledoves in thanksgiving - but only if it won't bankrupt you. What's more important, is to come.

            It's the similar shift in focus that Jesus continues on, when he lets people know that the Temple of God is not a bricks-and-mortar structure - as beautiful as it may be. Rather, the heart of God, the  divine presence, is active within his person - his physical body. The law said the holy place had a street address; Jesus said the holiest place of all is in the connection to God.

            Isn't that the way for all of us? And isn't it the way of the world to forget that!

Lent, then, brings us back in. It helps us to re-focus. To shift away from the legalist, requirement-based, duty-bound mentality into a loving, caring, nurturing sort of reality. The law - very helpful and important - tells us what we shoudl be doing. But unless we are doing for in the love of God  and in the service of Christ - then we're missing the point.

            It's what Paul tells the Corinthians: the law is good, but the actions you do should be secondary; it is the love for God that inspire you into action. It encourages a new lens on how we live our faith. Do we do it [whatever action IT may be] because we've always done it? Or do we do [IT} because we see in that action a way to make God's redeeming love known in the world? Because that is when the wisdom of God shines through, the strength of the gospel, becomes a reality. When we realise that the focus is not on just doing things a certain, legalistic way, but on doing things with and through love.

            So, with that focus in mind, I bet you're wondering how I'm going to tie in the 10 Commandments. I've been doing a LOT of thinking about this. And part of it comes from how we understand these commandments. Are they restrictive, or are they actually liberating? Do they limit us form doing what we want, or do they help us to consider how we relate to God and to one another in healthy, helpful ways?

            It's all in how we look at them. Firstly, I'm going to point out that God doesn't say they are commandments - he speaks them as words. Much friendlier approach. And then we're given 4 ways that we can mould our relationship with God; and 6 ways to provide a healthy relationship with one another.

            Not unlike the more current way of raising children - with positive reinforcement - whereas we used to say "don't run!" we now say "please walk" - the meaning is the same, but with a gentler approach, modern ears are more likely to hear and adapt.

            Imagine the lens of love for these 10 relationship builders.

1. 'I am your God' could be heard as "please remember what I have done for you, I'd like to be a priority in your life."

2. "No idols" could re-write as God is bigger than some trinket, make sure to focus on being loved and loving, rather than capturing and controlling. Your trust should be in God, not in some 'thing' 

3. Not using the Lord's name in vain is a simple request to keep God as God - not as an oath or a joke or a political tool or military propaganda.

4. Keep the Sabbath holy is in fact a great reminder of the human need for rest and re-creation, for self and for those in your care. It's a loving parent or partner asking us to take care of ourselves, to relinquish control, to be gentle with ourselves so that we will have longer and healthier lives - in which we can turn our grateful hearts to God. "You've been working hard! You could use a day off."

5. Honour your parents is about intergenerational respect; an opportunity to embrace all that has been shared, and what possible ways we can share into the future.

6. Don't murder - instead, instill and support life. "Seek ways to love and support someone's physical, mental, emotional, spiritual selves so that they can grow and flourish."

7. No adultery! can be heard as Respect your vows; "hold tenderly the love that has been entrusted to you."

8. No stealing! can be heard as an invitation to be thankful for what we have. "celebrate your abundance with grateful hearts" - with that gratitude one wouldn't need to steal.

9. No false witness! Instead, presume the best about someone else. Or a classic adage: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. We already know that the world has enough critics, what it needs are encouragers.

10. No coveting! Indeed - coveting implies an intent to cause harm to your neighbour in order to possess or control some living thing under their protection. This is a time to appreciate - and improve, if necessary - our own relationships. Don't worry if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence; instead seek ways to keep your own grass green.

            When we hear these words in this caring and nurturing way, they do become the framework for our lives. They support our relationships, they increase our faith, they bring new life to how we live. They re-focus our perspective from one of LAW to one of LOVE.

            That is what they are intended to do. It's what Jesus was trying to do at the Temple, it's what Paul was writing about.

            So I challenge us, as we continue in Lent, to look at our own lives: into our hearts and minds and actions - and determine where we have been acting legalistically, and discern how we might instead act in love. Where have we been engaging the world in contradictory ways, instead of finding different ways to caringly connect? Where have we focused on dissonance, and can instead put energy into harmonious living?

            However it is: it all starts with a shift in perception and perspective. It starts with us choosing to reflect inwardly, and applying a new lens for acting outwardly.

May the lens we apply be one of love; to look at the world with grace as an on-going opportunity to love God and love one another.