Sermon, Pentecost +9 (A)

Do you remember you school days, that kid in class who was always asking questions?

"What does this mean?" or "How do I do that?" The one who took apart calculators to figure out how they functioned, or who accidentally blew up the chemistry lab? The one who raised their hand - and the rest of the class rolled their eyes?

Well - that was me. Lots of questions! Abundant curiosity. Trying to find ways to make sense of things.

And this sense of curiosity came out again this week, as I was reading, studying, and praying the scriptures for this morning.  

And what struck me, is that throughout the readings, I have more questions than there are answers.

Let's start off with Jacob, heading out with his wives and maids and kids and entourage and goods - and he sends them all across the river. And suddenly: "a man wrestled with him until daybreak."

Whoa - wait - what?

Who is this man? Where did he come from? Was there conversation before the wrestling, or did he just tackle him? Why did no one come back across the stream and help him in this hours-long fight? Why is the man needing to get away as daybreaks? Why does Jacob demand a blessing? Why does he accept the name change from this stranger? Why does the man refuse to give a name? Where does the wrestler go after the blessing?

You get the point - there's a LOT going on here, that we may never fully understand.

And while some of these can be answered: Israel means 'striven with God', so of course Jacob took that... Peniel means "face of God" so again, that's logical.

And there are commentaries and traditions for other questions - like the hip injury, or the daybreak significance, or...You get the idea. Still more questions than answer.

Yet throughout this awkwardness and confusion, a prevailing message of being faithful to God; and of being blessed by the (unlikely) journey.

 

The psalmist takes us on another journey of questions... why would he assume to be considered lying? What offence is he defending himself from (and who is he throwing under the bus?) Why does he feel the need for God's sword to be vengeful against his enemies?

It can feel unsettling when we realise the desperation of the psalmist, to seek mercy and help; yet whatever the world is subjecting this man to, he knows to turn to God for ultimate assistance and support.

And how comforting, throughout this awkwardness and confusion, a prevailing message of being faithful to God; and of being blessed by the (unlikely) journey.

 

Paul, in his letter, is starting off a section of 3 chapters, that question what the Gospel means to people who don't believe that Jesus was the Messiah.

And so we wonder how people heard this: Why is Paul starting by defending his truth? Is he suggesting the future in Christ erases the covenant of the past? Is the placement of adoption significant in the list of divine possessions, given Paul's own history? Is the verb tense of belong (present, not past) important?

It's dizzying!  Yet the whole section - with its hyperbole and extreme commentary, shows us Paul's unceasing commitment and zeal to comprehend God's faithfulness to us - and thus, throughout the awkwardness and confusion, he shares a prevailing message of our being faithful to God; and of being blessed by the (unlikely) journey.

 

And so we dive into Matthew. And - Jesus can't get a day off, even on a boat, so he engages the crowds. And our questions begin. Like... whose boat was it? What did he do with it? How did he cure the sick within the great crowd?

And the multiplying of the loaves - how did it happen? Was it all at once so the disciples carried it? Did the loaves grow back once a piece was broken off? Did a tiny morsel grow in your hand as you were eating, or replicate itself when you were distracted?

And the people who came - they knew it was a deserted place, and evening, did they have a snack in their bag, that was shared along with the wondrous bread - how else would everyone be filled? Who got the leftovers - and where did those 12 baskets come from to hold them?

Again, more questions than answers - but again, as before, we're invited to see what's really happening here. The people trusted. They believed. They loved. They engaged. They saw beyond the realities of human limitations. And so they - and we, as we read this passage - interestingly the only passage that is shared in all 4 of the Gospels - in the midst of awkwardness and confusion, they are gifted the prevailing message of being faithful to God; and of being blessed by the (unlikely) journey.

 

So I'm going to invite us now to consider the next piece of God's Word: and that is the reality of our lives today. We're at a precipice, if you will, where change is about to happen. We are going to have a lot of questions; we are going to have fewer answers.

For, as I shared last week, starting next Sunday we're intending to resume worship in the church building as well as being live-streamed online. There are restrictions and limitations, to be sure, and there are questions: and the Tuesday mailing will be addressing many of them.

But we have other questions we can - and should - be asking ourselves. Questions like:

How are we going to maintain community when the flow of worship will be different?

How will we continue our connections when some will choose to be in the building and some will choose to stay online?

How do we intend to reach out in our community, to the most vulnerable?

How will we show the world our commitment to justice and peace?

What actions will we take to BE the church in our new reality of the world?

These are not easy questions - and sorting out some answers will take some time - and creative thinking - and willingness to try new things, even if it means not getting them all right.

BUT - when we fumble and foible along in these times, as we ask more questions than have answers, in the midst of awkwardness and confusion, let us live the prevailing message of being faithful to God; and of being blessed by the (unlikely) journey.

 

The questions will always be there; and the more detail we look for, chances are the more answers we won't have. So let's keep our focus on the Big Picture- of loving God, and loving the world. And if we can do that, the details will sort themselves out.

And maybe, when we're not distracted by the questions, we'll celebrate miracles among us. For miracles - as the loaves and fishes remind us, are not just magical drop-ins by God, but divine opportunities for engaging with the world. If the disciples had stopped sharing the bread, it would have stopped increasing; but they took what God had given them and shared that with the people in their midst. And a miracle blessed them all.

 

One final thought this morning, from Jesus's teaching: compassion.

Jesus stood in the boat, saw the crowds, and had compassion for them - compassion - a word that means a sharing of emotion or feeling. We are invited to be extend compassion to everyone - for as we all make COVID-time decisions - for ourselves, our families, our communities - we know that they are not easy, and are not taken lightly. So whatever decision is made, whether we agree or not, let us be compassionate to our siblings in Christ.

For we're all in this together - wherever we sit, and whenever we pray, and however we question. We share the journey, we share the miracles, we share the blessing. Let us share the bread of compassion until all the world is filled.

Amen.

 

Sermon, Pentecost +8 (A)

            The scriptures this morning are inviting us - enticing us, even - to think about the Kingdom of God.

            This is not an uncommon topic for Jesus - in fact, Jesus talks about the kingdoms of heaven and hell more than anything else in our canonical gospels.

            And yet - as we see today, with parables that get shorter and shorter - that people are still having a hard time understanding what Jesus is talking about. He even asks the folks bluntly: Do you understand? And they say yes... but I've often imagined that their faces showed their skepticism and doubt.

            For the Kingdom of God FAR exceeds our understanding.

            It's a place where Jacob is welcomed - despite an inheritance (of questionable sourcing, let's be honest) he will work hard in the fields to do right by the father-in-law who tricked him, his unintended wife and her maid, and her sister whom he continues to love. Now, Jacob is not always the best role model of scriptural context; yet he is beloved of God and is used to share the faith.

            The Kingdom of God is a place where someone who writes hymns to God - which we now know as the psalms -  can be vulnerable enough to admit temptation and ask for God's help in overcoming it - and thus showing countless others that humble does not mean weak; and that faith carries you through anything this earth can throw at you.

            It's a place where someone who is new to faith, and struggling to 'get it right', can receive a letter that bolsters trust that the Spirit seeks out the prayers of our hearts instead of catching in the words of our mouths; a place where love reigns, where nothing can ever separate us from the life-changing love of Jesus.

            It's a place where things don't make sense... a mustard seed, that grows into a tall tree instead of the normal bush that gardeners would have been expecting. It's a pearl from the sea is found in the midst of an acreage of earth - though we know that's not how or where pearls grow. It's yeast to people who know the power of yeast, and the mother of all pearls to people who understand gems as treasures. It's a net to surround those who feel excluded, or secluded in their own little boats, and bring them in with everyone else. It's the scribe - a trained employee of the Pharisees who were actively working against Jesus - knowing that despite his job he is wanted and his gifts desired.

            The Kingdom of God is... well, it's all things to all people, isn't it. In a way that doesn't make sense in our minds. Do we understand? Nope. But we try to - and Jesus is constantly and consistently helping us - by offering words that resonate with us all. To the farmers, he speaks of seeds; to the fishers, he speaks of fish; to the bakers, he speaks of bread.. etc.

            And that seed doesn't work like normal seeds (yet in the kingdom it offers rest); and the hint yeast that's nothing special and too small to make a difference in that much wheat (yet in the kingdom it raises God's people above life's flatness). And finding a gem in a field is so unlikely! (A proverbial needle in a haystack that in the kingdom will show that people who keep things hidden will discover a joy beyond all that they have)... you get the idea. It's illogical to our earthly ears... but we are called to see beyond those limitations.

            The Kingdom of God is for all people - the poor and the rich, the young and the old, the popular and the lonely, the shy and the outgoing, the intelligent and the simple, men and women, ... and everyone - everyone! - in between.

            And so, our ears hear the good news in our own context: the kingdom of God is for the minimum-wage labourers, the home-makers, the business owners, the students,

the faithful, the not-yet-faithful, the no-longer-faithful.

            The Kingdom of God is meant to be accessible to everyone - and aspired to by everyone. It's meant to be realistic to us all - and so Jesus speaks of it to the disciples - us - to anyone who will listen.

 

            And as we listen, we recognise that there's a deeper trend. In the parables, Jesus is bringing us on a journey where he - and we - consider, question, and even challenge the status quo.  He is inviting us to reconsider how we understand our role in the world, and our role in the community that seeks the Kingdom.

            In a world that says on the rich matter... only the predominant culture matters... only the famous people matter... only the important people matter... Jesus says: the Kingdom is different. For in the Kingdom, our earthly differences and distinctions will not carry any weight.

            The kingdom of God, then, is like the most unlikely and unearthly thing that we can think of. It's amazing and wondrous, it transcends our human limitations and restrictions. It's a place of perfect love and inclusion; a place for ordinary people.  And, the Kingdom of God is as close as we will let it be. Because it is there for all of us to understand, for all of us to grasp, for all of us to share.

            The Kingdom of God, then, is like the community who would listen to the words of Jesus. They would give thanks, offer prayers, find ways to gather in worship and praise. They would welcome the stranger, share with the less fortunate, visit the sick, love everyone they met. They are normal people celebrating the extraordinary love of God. In a world where kindness, compassion, and love can seem SO distant and unattainable - the preposterous notion of the Kingdom of God can feel absurd.

            Yet. Jesus himself invites us to trust, and believe: The Kingdom of God is within our reach. We can bring it even closer through our ministries. For it is the delight of the Lord to share this love; and the practice of God to empower us ordinary, everyday, average folks to share the Good News of the unimaginable Kingdom of God.

            So let all of us, who have ears, hear; let all of us who hear take action. The Kingdom of God is waiting for you.

 

Sermon, Pentecost +7 (A)

         The scriptures this morning take us on a bit of a journey - a literal and spiritual one, at times!

         Jacob - back in Genesis - yes, this is ankle-grabbing/over-reaching/master Chef Jacob has left Beer-Sheba (meaning well of the oath - highlighting both water and the covenant - this is the place where his family is, and he's going as his father Isaac has blessed him and directed him to find a wife form his cousin Laban).

         And he heads some 500miles for Haran (meaning a parched land - it's the ancestral home, where Esau - who has just retaliated by taking Ishmael's daughter - his father's niece - as another wife). Yes, more family drama. Anyway! Jacob is barely out of Beer-Sheba when he stops "at a certain place" - this is traditionally understood to be Mount Moriah, which will be the future home of the Temple.

         Now - he stops there, because he knows that the family has always stopped there to pray. It's open, undisturbed, a safe space where you have full vantage points on all sides. Wide open desert. So he stops there, near the village called Luz, and immediately - almost supernaturally - it's sunset.

         Some interpretations highlight the spiritual significance of this - most travelers know when it's going to get dark, and avoid being out unprotected - but alas, there he is; so stone pillow it is. Dusty bed. Not comfy; but he's got no other options.

         And BAM. The dream of the ladder - more likely a ramp, really, definitely not a staircase as most modern art depicts it. But a connection piece between two realms; not a literal stairway to the clouds, but the basic depiction that Jacob could understand.

         And heavenly messages are going up and down - for that's what angel means - aggelos - messenger. These are divine carriers of messages - transporting casually and comfortably between this realm and the next.

         Lovely, yes? Comfortable. Peaceful.

It's like they knew it well - for they were always there. That's their patch, as it were - this hidden information highway ...

that connects to:

nowhere.

         The middle of nowhere, in fact. A dusty field, where waylaid travelers can't even find a hut or a shed, but sleep on the dirt with a stone as a pillow.

         Hmm. Weird, yes? But this is not some divine error or oversight in the geography: quite the opposite, in fact.

         Because Jacob - like so many of us - is accustomed to going from one city to the next: one destination to another. And he overlooks the journey: the in-between, the unattractive, the dusty normal land.

         Yet: in the unremarkable - Jacob sees the remarkable.

And - not only this - but he is promised that he will have this land! This dusty, uninhabited, unimpressive piece of terra firma - as though God was going to fold it up like a blanket and stuff it in his carry bag.

         And how else could one respond to that vision, that revealing, than to make such a declaration: How awesome is this place!

         Immediately, the name Beth-El comes out the House of God.

         Now, this seems unlikely for us, in the here and the now. In our communities where we associate 'church' with a particular time and space - that the House of God - BethEl - would be a vacant, dusty field.

         That the place where God would reveal a constant and comfortable covenantal connection would be - not in the midst of the city, with glory and lights and hundreds of witnesses - but with Jacob alone, humble, vulnerable, transient.

         Yet. There it is. Jacob is given the gift of knowledge of God's constant presence - and holy messengers active in his life - that are happening regardless of where he is, or what time it is, or what he has to offer.

         And what a message it is: that God wants Jacob to know that the connection between heaven and earth is truly a relationship - a continual interchange between realms. A celebration of knowing and being known; of speaking and listening; of giving and receiving.

What a gift to recognise the House of Prayer in worship, Word, and sacrament! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the Psalms, where the person praying knows the intimate nature between themselves and God - as though God has a permanent highway to the very centre of their being. So whether in the busy times or the spiritual deserts, God is there - comforting, communicating, blessing - knowing.

What a gift to be known by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the epistle, then, too - as Paul highlights the significance of being part of the family of God. Adopted. Chosen. Intentionally selected; permanently. Loved. Wanted. Known. Eternally hope-filled: knowing that the connection - like an unseen ladder - remains in the relationship.

What a gift to be chosen by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the Gospels, too, where Jesus assures his friends that nothing - nothing - is ever all good or all evil. Even themselves; and in the reality of this world: there will be times when they - WE - can be tainted by the one who sows discord and nastiness and invites us to turn from God. Yet: they are to not worry about what "weeding out" needs to happen, as God trusts them to support the wheat - the spiritual growth in the world - the righteous - the believers in the Kingdom - until the messengers appear again to do that weeding.

What a gift to be trusted by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         So here we have our own opportunity - to look around US. To examine our lives - our homes - our ministries. To pause and really take in the Good News:

That we are known - intimately - fro the time we were knit together and loved into being.

We are chosen - as heirs - as family - as loved into relationship.

We are entrusted - not to judge but to focus on our own growth; to reject the forces of evil

         And we are welcomed: to the House of God. To beth-el; to the place where a stone pillow becomes an anointed pillar of prayer; to a dusty nowhere that becomes sacred ground; to a place where the dust is not to be shaken form the feet but embraced as a heavenly symbol of abundance.

         For from the dust come descendents; from the dust came our creation; from the dust comes the growing wheat.

         And even in our dust - the messy, ordinary reality of our lives, we can declare wherever we are and whenever we pray:

 Surely God is in this place.

 

Sermon, Pentecost +6 (A)

            Do you ever have those moments where something comes out of nowhere, and you have that *facepalm* WHOA experience? Watching a movie or reading a novel, with a sudden plot-twist, for example, when you later think: How did I miss that all along?? The unexpected who-did-it in a who-dunnit novel, or the Star Wars "LUKE - I AM YOUR FATHER" kind of thing. These catch us off guard and surprise us - and invite us go back and reflect over what has happened, because we want to know where and how we got distracted, and where and how this new information is going to play into how we go forward.

            Well, this morning I bring this up because - surprise surprise - these things happen in scripture, too. We can get really caught up in one direction, so much so that we miss some other major learnings in the same story. So God continually invites us to return, and reflect, and to consider how to apply this new knowledge, this new perception, to how we move forward.

            Let's look at the Genesis passage, for a start. For biblical folks, the Jacob lineage spoke of family dynamics, societal relations, and holy covenant. Many Sunday Schools have taught children that this is a stew story about not disrespecting what we have. Right?

            There's more to it, though... the naming of things (Esau means hairy, Jacob means both to follow and to over-reach.) From the womb, we are foretold that the first-born child (who will be granted disproportionate amounts of land and goods) is not going to have an easy go at it. Sibling rivalry starts early.

            And Esau is impetuous, looking for immediate satisfaction, and not really respecting his circumstance.

            But Jacob - as second-born, would need to rely on the mercy of his elder sibling's management of the tangible implications of the birthright. This fact would feel unfair at any time, but especially so when these two were born mere moments apart. Jacob is often made out to be the villain here, a mean trickster denying food to his starving brother until he can get the goods for himself. Yikes! Except... Esau isn't starving to death. He's hungry after a day of hunting, of sporting exertion. He didn't need the stew to survive, he just wasn't willing to go looking elsewhere.

            Hmm. That changes our first reading of this text then, doesn't it! It challenges our pre-conceived notion of the interchange between these two brothers, and perhaps even why Esau later despises his birthright: he's not angry at Jacob for taking it, but at himself for agreeing to trade it for a single meal. Thus Esau - the red child, who ate red lentils, who is named Edom (meaning red: the colour of blood, of stains, of wounds and sores) - well, Esau, to use a modern expression, sees red - and we see a different expression of God's grace and God's mission.

            I'm going to take us now to the Gospel: The parable of the sower - another passage we know well! There are four types of soil, and traditionally we are invited to think about what type of soil we want to be when the seed is cast down: eaten up as an instant and short-lived meal on the path, quick but unrooted growers in the rocks, growing minimally in bad company that chokes the life out of us, or growing abundantly in good soil!

            Obviously, we want to be the seed on good soil, producing abundantly, with  healthy spiritual lives! This is good stuff.

            But let's not forget the 3/4 of the seeds that didn't make it to the good soil - because they are not wasted; they're just used differently. The birds had a meal, after all. Maybe the unrooted sprouts were washed downstream to a different location with better soil. Perhaps the choked out growth was perfect for making soft beds for animals to make a home. There's use there.

            But I'm going to take us one more unexpected direction with this passage - the A-HA moment for many, that I borrow from Barbara Brown Taylor in her book "The Seeds of Heaven". Jesus himself invites all who have ears to listen, as he invites us to "Hear then, the parable of the sower." This is not the parable of the seeds - though as Jesus speaks about those, we are satisfied in our distraction.

            Yet - let's re-direct our thoughts to the sower. The one casting those seeds about. Consider how extravagantly those seeds are being cast - the sower is literally tossing these valuable seeds everywhere - even in places (3 of the 4 mentioned) that are known to not be typical producers. The sower is being impractical - inefficient - wasteful - well, gosh, that's not at all how we would do it! Where are the rows, and the carefully measured holes, and the nets to keep out birds, and the plan to remove weeds, and the...

.           But. The sower - doesn't care about all that. The sower is not concerned with being frugal here, the sower just wants to get as much seed out as possible, in as many directions as possible, to the maximum potential benefit, regardless of what's expected. Because the sower - in the kingdom that Jesus is speaking of - is our maker, "who seems willing to keep reaching into his seed bag for all eternity, covering the whole creation with the fertile seed of his truth."[1]

            Wow. That's so much better than just landing on good dirt, isn't it? It's a new opportunity to hear what Jesus is saying, to delve deeper into what we can learn from this - about seeds, about soil, and about casting love and grace, without concern for what happens after it has been cast.

           

            So these two examples are a great way for us to focus our thoughts and prayers this week, when we consider ourselves as the church. Because - like it or not - COVID has been a significant plot-twist in our lives. It's changed our selves, our community, our world - and our church. And we realise that while it's been a long time so far, it's going to be a long time yet.

            But - rather than being distracted by a paralyzing desire of "going back to what was" (which is highly unlikely anyway), we have the privilege to think differently about this. We have the opportunity to reflect on how we can move confidently and faithfully into the future. We can have our WHOA! moments in how we will BE the church.

            Conversations of re-visioning and re-imagining the church are not easy - they are not always comfortable - they are often ignored, because they usually indicate a change is needed. And the church has been a pillar of continuity and same-ness for centuries. But... change is no longer an option, it's a reality.

            So I invite us to be excited that we have this time to reflect... to consider what we love about BEing the church, and finding new ways to exercise those ministries. I invite us to be energised for this time to consider how to re-create patterns and rhythms that will help us to cast God's love broadly in our communities. I invite us to be brave as we are finding new teachings that God has been revealing to us.

            For that is the beauty of those moments, these plot twists: no matter what happens, we know that God is with us. We know that we, AS the church, will continue. We know that we have each other to support, to encourage, to love. We know that God continues to speak to us as we journey forward together. Let anyone with ears hear the Good News of God.