Original Prayers (March)

 MARCH 13

We pray for the church; that it may be a faithful witness to the glory of your promises. Strengthen the faith of all who bear your name. Encourage all who minister in their callings, as they shine the Light of Christ for all to see.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

We pray for the leaders of the nations, as they continue to strive for peace and justice throughout. Guide their discussions with calmness, inspiring them to work together with integrity and compassion.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

We pray for our hometowns; giving thanks for the experience of peace, and committing ourselves to actions of community-building. Be with us as we treat one another with the dignity and respect we promised in our baptism.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

The whole earth is yours, Lord, and we are dependent upon it. Where there is devastation, may we bring renewal. Where there is discord, may we bring your reconciliation. Where there is inequality, may we bring fairness. This is your world, Lord; may we your children treat it and each other as you will us to do.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

We pray for all who suffer: we pause to consider the names we carry in our hearts and minds.

We ask your healing presence for all who struggle in body, mind, or spirit; and for your comfort to enfold those who mourn. May they know your healing presence as we continue in our earthly days.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

We remind ourselves of the innumerable blessings of this life, and of the immeasurable grace that you lavish upon us. Keep our hearts in an attitude of gratitude, that we may live every day as a celebration of your love, given through your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ.

Merciful Lord,

Hear our prayer.

Sermon, Lent 3 (C)

 This morning, Jesus takes us from pastoral theology to challenge parable, sliding from one to the other with intentional nuance and purpose.

Jesus starts the discourse by setting the scene with his very blunt talk about repentance.

Within the society, it was understood that any misfortune or bad luck was a divine punishment. God has, throughout the ages, been blamed for when bad things happen to good people. But Jesus rejects that; the Galileans who suffered? That was an atrocity, but not a justified punishment for sin. The workers crushed in Siloam’s unfortunate construction accident? A tragedy, to be sure, but not God intervening for some heinous sin.

Jesus makes the subtle but significant distinction between human life and eternal life.

He references the death of the body, and the perishing of the soul. The body will die; but the soul has the opportunity to live, if one repents.

Jesus highlights that the time for repentance is now. The act of repentance is not something that should be put off; for we do not know the day and the hour when our earthly bodies will enter into that final rest.

So: especially in this penitential season of Lent, we hear the words of Jesus gently inviting us, once again, into repentance.

And repentance takes a spiritual and emotional maturity; it demands a look inward. It requires being honest with ourselves, being humble, and being brave enough to look deeply into that mirror. It’s an intentional practice to consider what we have said and done, and how that may have been received: would we be okay if we were treated the way we have treated others?

Repentance is difficult, because not only does it take us into that challenging space, it requires us to recognise that if we don’t like what we have seen, we need to address that: by making amends, by seeking resolution, by changing our ways to prevent recurrence of the offense.

In all things, we are called to repent. To turn around. For that’s what the word repent means: turn around. Get back in the right relationship with God, with others, and with ourselves; that we may live holy and peaceable lives.

Repentance is hard work. It’s uncomfortable work. It’s work that we often do alongside a spiritual companion or mentor, who comes with us on the way: whose voice we can hear, whose insights challenge us, whose faith supports us.

Repent; Jesus says. It’s the way to a holy life both in the here and the hereafter.

And to make sure that we are challenged by his teaching, to engage with the lesson on repentance, Jesus then tells us the parable of the fig tree.

We all know that trees take time to grow, fruit trees can take years of maturation before they begin to bear fruit, and even then it can be a few years before the crop is worth harvesting.

Trees symbolise patience and endurance, hope and trust. Martin Luther wrote "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." He wasn't being naive or unrealistic; he was encouraging people to look at the bigger picture.

Tomorrow may be bad, but consider tomorrow's tomorrow - and beyond. We plant trees to benefit future generations, as we today benefit from the trees planted by others, years ago.

And fruit trees – like most soft-fruit trees - take time, maintenance, and skilled attention. They need to be looked after, provided for, nourished along the way. Else there will be no fruit. The gardener knows this; it's not by accident that he asks for 'just one more year' of patience on the part of the landowner.

I also think we can see that the gardener’s request for patience is also for himself. It’s likely that he has been a bit lax in his duties… spending his energy elsewhere rather than tending to the tree itself. Why else, would he need - just now - to aerate and fertilise the tree?

While fruit trees tend to be low-maintenance, they aren't no-maintenance; they require regular care and attention. Without care, they are unproductive, leeching nutrients from sandy soil. Especially in their early years, they can't be ignored and 'hope for the best'.

They do need the best soil, and the manure, and intervention. It's work, to be sure, but it's essential. And - let's be honest - it's manure. Messy. Smelly. Unpleasant. Most of us try to avoid working with unpleasantness.

Yet here it is - the landowner is there, the tree is unproductive, the gardener is not happy at being caught out. The parable message is clear: it’s time for the gardener to get his hands dirty, because the time for the tree is not indefinite.

In the parable, Jesus challenges people to be reflecting not on their gardens, but on their own lives. Jesus is showing us that we are the tree; and we are the gardener.

We are the tree that needs care and attention. Our ministries and journeys are the fruit that we can produce: it may take some time, it may take a few tries, but we have the potential to produce the good stuff that we want to share. They are a sign of patience - with ourselves and our efforts. We serve for the benefit of others, not just for ourselves.

We too need to be nourished and nurtured; having a deeper look below the surface to make sur our roots are healthy, fueled with the nourishment that will enable survival and growth, at times undergoing challenging prunings of what is no longer healthy.

Otherwise, our spiritual journey and our ministries will be as stagnant as the fig tree. Just there -existing, not living. Taking up space, not thriving. And let's be honest - none of us wants that.

Knowing that we don’t want a stagnant spirituality, we reflect inwards on how to promote growth and life. How to turn away from what is stunting our growth. We all want our lives to bear fruit - so a little digging and manure sometimes has to happen – doing the hard internal work and getting our hands dirty – so that we can reap the benefits that God is inviting us to.

We also see ourselves in the parable’s gardener. Satisfied with the status quo, putting the least amount of effort in that we have to, avoiding the messiness of our spiritual journey and ministry because - well, it's manure. In fairness, I expect the gardener’s actions (or inactions) are not coming from malice, but apathy. He’s in neutral holding pattern…

Until the point where we meet him today, and he can no longer deny the need to do his work. He admits to himself that he needs to change his ways, and be pro-active. He can no longer ignore that which has been put in his care, or think that the bare minimum will suffice.

Well, we’re all there, aren’t we! As we begin to emerge out of COVID restrictions and into new ways of life, we are also called to move out of our own apathy.

We are given the opportunity to choose how we will tend the growth in our care. We can do honest assessments of who and whose we are, and how we want to be known as the church of today and tomorrow.

Some things will change, some things will stay the same, but we are blessed right now with choice to be intentional about moving forward, as we commit to do the dirty work, the hard work, the beneficial work.

We can look at our past and give thanks for what was, and we can embrace our future and we celebrate the possibilities, for our own benefit, and for the benefit of our children's children.

Jesus reminds us today, that procrastinating on our spiritual health can leave us unproductive, unfruitful. We can’t nourish future generations if we are barren ourselves. And we know we don’t want to be there.

So: some questions I invite us all to consider this week, as we dig deeply into ourselves, seeking nourishment for growth and well-being.

Is your spiritual life the way you want it to be? Is it flourishing and bearing fruit?

Do your actions demonstrate your belief?

In the areas where we see we can do some work, let’s make those changes within, so that we might be fruitful together.

Let’s step away from our own apathy and lean into the life-affirming promises of faith.

Let’s be reminded of the worth of repentance. Of the promise of God’s forgiveness. Of the assurance of eternal life with those we love.

Let’s be bold as we nurture and are nurtured;

Gentle as we tend and are tended;

And grateful as we are cared for and are caring,

As we continue our growth in the garden of God’s kingdom.

Sermon, Lent 2 (C)

 There’s a beautiful theme in our scriptures today, and it is both a promised assurance and a present truth.

It’s also, as it’s written in our Holy Texts, a significant component of our shared history.

And it’s this: We are protected.

We are protected by God.

Our selves: our souls: our very being:

We are under God’s protection.

Always have been, always will be.

In those times when we felt it strongly, in those times when we’ve doubted its existence, in those times when we questioned if it was still there:

God’s protection is a constant – in this life and the next.

This is the promise that God gives to Abram – with the constancy of explaining to him – repeatedly – how this protection will come to Abram and his descendants.

It is the promise in the Psalm, of light and salvation, of a life-long stronghold: and a comfort of knowing we never need be afraid.

It is promised in the epistle as the Philippian community is encouraged to focus on something other than their own needs and desires – to stand firm in the teachings of Jesus.

And, poetically and metaphorically – and rather emphatically! – it is evident in the Gospel passage as we hear of Jesus’ desire to gather us together as a hen brings in her brood: offering warmth, protection, and love.

We are protected.

It doesn’t mean that life is going to be perfect: that’s not realistic.

It doesn’t mean we’ll never experience pain: that’s also unrealistic.

But it means that we are going to be okay.

AND: even better – it means that we are never going to be alone.

Because a brood – or a family – or the household of God: are reflections of multitudes. More than one.

What a comfort, for those of us today, to be reminded that faith – that life! Is not a solo journey.

And, in fact, it was never meant to be.

We: as humans, as a community, as people of faith!

We were never meant to be solitary.

And, in fact, we COULD not have been alone.

Not in our biology, not in our spirituality, not in our emotional and mental well-being.

We are not alone.

Even the monastics and hermits are not alone: they come together for meals, they interact with sojourners, they collaborate in their ministries: and they all gather in worship.

It’s also good to remember that being together doesn’t mean that we have to be in each others’ space every moment of every day – but that we can and do connect with one another.

None of us is an island, John Donne said. We do not stand alone.

Yet: life can pull us apart. Life can feel isolating.

Especially after 2 years of pandemic, where we were literally told to stay apart. Where we learned that distance – even 2 metres! could help keep us safe – healthy – alive.

And, we saw the response to this apart-ness.

A study this week proved – not surprisingly – that the effects of the pandemic have left Canadians feeling worse off emotionally, more distanced from each other and from their community, and feeling lower levels of compassion – both given and received.

It’s hard. And we are all hurting.

Because the core of our beings recognises that we are made to be together.

So… we – the church - now have the choice – the chance – the privilege!

To be leaders in bringing people back together.

We have the choice in front of us:

to BE the positive, including, affirming, helpful church that God has called for us to be.

We have the choice to reach out in love, to exercise kindness, to extend welcome and hospitality:

And maybe even to realise, and name aloud, that we may not be living under the wings of Jesus’ proverbial hen.

We’re apart: yet our souls remain interconnected.

Henri Nouwen, great spiritual teacher, speaks of our interconnection with all things in creation helps us to better understand not just our place in the world, but ourselves. More deeply, more authentically, “our true identity in creation as expressions of divine love.”

We want to be together.

We want to *come* together.

We want to choose the celebration of living: in a different world than it was 2 years ago; with a different understanding of “normal” – if we’re honest with ourselves, we admit that we’re never going back to what was; so let’s stop trying to force time back.

(That’s an ironic statement to make on a time change Sunday!)

Instead: we recognise that we can follow the teachings of Jesus:

To embrace the fullness of life.

To care for one another to the very best of our ability.

To reject all that would steal, destroy, or kill (in any capacity: a spiritual death, the destruction of a dream, the denial of emotional growth) these are all threats if we let the world win; if we forget that we are protected.

Jesus rejects all that denies life.

He even insults it! BLATANTLY!

In this scripture, he spits out his feelings toward the concept of Herod quite succinctly:

A FOX.

A solitary and territorial animal known to adapt to their surroundings to best respond to their greed; only coming into the realm of others when they are seeking prey.

It’s no coincidence foxes are symbolic of slyness and cunning, they are known to be problematic and destructive, they are used across cultures to foreshadow difficulty.

“You tell that FOX,” Jesus says, “that I am too busy doing good to be bothered by him. Tell that destroyer that I have chosen to build up, to heal, to gather together.”

A powerful promise from Jesus, indeed: especially when he then invites the people to come closer. To be the brood once again; protected and safe and cared for, in a world where the foxes of the world may still target us.

What an invitation for us all to hear: God’s personal invitation to come back together.

And what a privilege we have as the church: as GOD’s church:

To use our unique and excellent system to facilitate this:

We have a shared space, shared intentions, shared values, and shared opportunity to serve.

We serve, and we are served.

We heal, and we are healed.

We don’t come to church perfect to fix others; we come broken to share in the healing process.

We don’t come with the answers; we come to a community where we feel safe to ask the questions and learn together.

We don’t come as solitary roosters; we come as interconnected chicks. Needing a wing overhead; trusting that it is there, relieved that there is ALWAYS room for us all, and rejoicing that we are wanted here.

So let’s be the church that God wants us to be:

for the time is now;

the place is here, as we together dwell under the wings;

the promise of protection and care is eternal.

The gift and grace is upon us all, as we live into our interconnected wholeness as the household of God.