Sermon, Easter 3 (Year B)

 From time to time, we can engage in a conversation with someone, and realise we’re missing part of that context – or even content.

More than once, when I realise that I am at a different point in a conversation than the person I speaking with, I’ve found myself puzzled, trying to understand, and I have to ask the other person for more detail.
Without that beginning detail, I may miss the importance of the message they’re trying to convey.

Today’s scripture does that for us. The message is profound:
“Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”
It’s lovely and comforting to embrace the message of peace from Jesus – what a gift, a blessing, to hear the words of peace.

Except we need to consider how that word – peace – may have been understood by the people hearing these words as a message from the Risen Christ.
First, politically, the Roman Empire was not so much a serene community, but under the rule of Pax Romana (Roman Peace). A heavily structured set of rules that were, at times, violently enforced.
Counter that with the Jewish message of peace as shalom: a message of genial greeting (and departure), that has scriptural ties to understanding and encompassing the divine love of God.
Going further, when Jesus taught his disciples using the words of peace, they were tied to the forgiveness of sins, the reassurance of divine grace, the importance of right relationship with one another. Peace, from Jesus, carries a lot of good news.
Especially when they come from Luke’s account of the life of Jesus: because Luke’s context is that of a physician – a healer – a man whose life was focused on bringing wholeness and wellness to people and communities. So the shalom that we hear from the physician Luke carries the understanding and symbolism of salvation: a salve or balm for our souls, to find that wellness and fullness of life.

“Peace be with you” Jesus says: and the meaning of those words is overwhelmingly joyous, as the peace of Christ is a gift that encourages the listeners to overcome their fear, and move forward in their ministry, empowered by the Spirit.
Yet: despite this, the disciples are still…. Startled. Terrified. Frightened. Doubting.

And this is not because they are weak, or unfaithful;
It’s because their context is overwhelming… and we’ve joined into a conversation part-way through.
The first part of our first sentence, with Jesus making his appearance, begins: “While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.””

It invites us to consider what they were talking about – that had them flummoxed by Jesus’ beautiful greeting of peace.

So let’s go back briefly, to recap this chapter of Luke’s Gospel:
The women have gone to the tomb, found it empty, and heard from angels of the resurrection.
Though sceptical, they tell the disciples; and Peter runs to the empty tomb.
That same day two of them are walking on the road to Emmaus; where Jesus appears as a stranger, is invited to dinner, and in the breaking of bread is recognised as the Risen Christ.
This is the night of the first day of the resurrection; it is now dark; and these disciples return to the road that they had told Jesus was too dangerous to be on in the dark – and trek the 3 hours or so back to Jerusalem, to tell the other disciples that they have seen the Risen Lord.
And the disciples there have their own good news of the appearance of the resurrected Christ to Simon Peter.

…and THIS is where we enter the narrative today. Part-way through a rather overwhelming conversation.
The first day of the week; the first day of knowledge; the first day of joy,
the first day of starting to unpack the absolutely inconceivable possibility that what they had heard and learned in the life of Jesus – was now undeniably real.

… and in pops their friend and teacher, who with a few simple words: “Peace be with you”
creates a new paradigm for his friends.

A world where the worldly violence of Pax Romana does not have the last say.
A realm where God’s shalom is not just some concept but a deep resounding truth.
A relationship that assures the power of divine love and grace.
A connection that promises healing of mind, body, and spirit.

So of course the disciples are having a hard time taking it all in:
we’re all taught that if something seems to good to be true, it probably IS too good to be true.
They know that sometimes, our minds can play tricks on us.
Especially in grief; in seasons of lament; in times of confusion and bewilderment.

And so Jesus meets them where they are.
He doesn’t tell them to smarten up, or get over it, or deny them their experience.
He sits with them: accompanies them. Lets them take all the time they need, shows them what the need to see, so that they can be reassured.

He shows them his hands and his feet: still wounded. For the promises of God are not to make everything magically better, but to accompany us in whatever ways the world may cause us pain. And his presence conveys the power of God to overcome the limitations of death.

He shows them his humanity in the basic act of eating with them: invoking the memories of meals previously shared, and in the interconnection with the simple and ordinary. Ghosts or apparitions don’t need meals; and figments of imagination would not have the capacity to break the bread in Emmaus or eat the fish in Jerusalem.

He shows them the beautiful depth of the scriptures: the connection to the history, the enormity of the prophets, the encouragement of the teachings; and the constancy of God’s presence – in forgiveness, in community, in the promise of eternity.

He breathed his peace upon them.
Knowing that they would still grieve, knowing that the world was far from perfect, knowing that not everyone would be able to believe or receive that peace.
But it was offered. It was freely given.
In simple words.
And with life-changing reality.

The power of Christ’s peace has not diminished today; it still invites us to hear it, trust it, receive it, and be changed by it.
Christ’s peace continues to rest upon us: and like the disciples so long ago, we too are invited and compelled to witness to it.
For the story did not begin with us, and it will not end with us.
We are somewhere in the middle – extending our context and content of the journey of faith that takes us from an empty tomb to an Upper Room to a Saskatoon Cathedral – on all the roads in between. The story of God continues – in us – even when we become overwhelmed by it all.

So let us be confident as we receive that multi-faceted peace, from the Prince of Peace.
Let us be comforted as we accept and apply that peace to all the areas of our lives and world that have lost their peace, or never known peace.
And let us be bold to share the peace: a peace that elicits alleluias from within us.
May the Peace of the Lord be always with you.
Amen.
Alleluia!

Sermon, Easter 2 (Year B)

 This morning, the second Sunday of Easter, is sometimes called Low Sunday – most likely as the normalcy of today’s worship contrasts with the heights of the High Celebration of last Sunday’s feast of the Resurrection.

In some places, folks have become casual about referencing this Second Sunday as Doubting Thomas Sunday.
What a way to be remembered, poor Thomas! And it’s very easy to focus only on him; or rather, his unfortunate (and really, unfair) reputation.
However, I’m going to invite us to consider the timeline in the Gospel passage today.

At the beginning of the passage, we are on… THAT day. The same day of resurrection. The same day that Mary has declared to the disciples the miracle of the empty tomb, who has delivered the first Easter sermon – I HAVE SEEN THE LORD!!
That first night, they’re all stunned and shocked and back for dinner and trying to figure out whether or not they can believe what Mary has said to them. Because at this point, they have NOT seen the Lord.

They are the Doubting Disciples at this point. (Sounds like a musical group, doesn’t it?)
But there they are. Doubting. Or, more accurately to the Greek, they are not-believing. They don’t yet have the faith that will come. They are understandably confused, bewildered, overwhelmed.

And – to this group, this intentional community, comes the Lord. They see him, and they receive His gift of peace. He breathes on them, and very importantly, he sends them. As the Father has sent me (with peace and grace and Spirit and love) - so I send you!

Now, we don’t know what else happened in that room, what they spoke with Jesus about, how long he was there, when he left. We just hear that at some point later, Jesus is gone.
And later, we hear that Thomas is back in that room with the others. We don’t know why he wasn’t there in the first place – maybe he’d just popped out for some olives, maybe he was gone for a few days? Who knows.

But we do know that he has NOT received the same gifts of blessing and Spiritual breath that the others received. And that is what he is asking for. Who could blame him!

I’ll remind us all that this story speaks to us, wherever we are: for the vast majority of us have at some point been the enthusiastic believers, and at other times the people whose faith has wavered, and at others we just don’t know.

And that’s okay: because this passage assures us that Jesus NEVER condemns those who are questioning, or doubting, or who have lost their faith. He just invites them to the journey, within a community of believers.
That community connection is important.
Take Thomas, for example; his place in the community is not at risk. He’s there,
A disciple, with the other disciples; as integrated in the group as he was before. He’s not shunned, not mocked, not further excluded; why would he be?

And thus, we learn that community is important. It’s a key component of the faith. The Acts of the Apostles is basically a biblical biography of the earliest community of Jesus followers. It details not just how they experienced their own spiritual journeys, but also as a model for us to bring faith to others. In the passage we hear today, we’re reminded of what it means to be in a community. Folks are sharing what they had that all may live the fullness of life that Jesus has promised.
It’s not about making ourselves poor, but about using what we have to ensure that everyone has enough, and has their basic needs met.

Community is highlighted in today’s psalm, where we rejoice in the goodness that comes from living in unity, as people of God.

John’s letter is itself a declaration of faith – a faith that is strengthened when we are involved in community – in sharing joys, struggles, ordinary experiences – and in sharing our faith, giving God an opportunity to work through us to give what is needed to whoever is needing it.

So! Let’s go back to Thomas, in that Upper Room, a week later. The disciples are hanging out. Well, more Hiding out: Still afraid. Still grieving. Still just… there. Existing. Not living. They’re stuck: in their fear, confusion, agony, grief. They’re not exercising their ministry, they’re just… immobilised. Waiting – for what, they don’t know.
They’ve received the gift, the Spirit, the peace – and the command to GO – but they’re stuck.

This invites us to ponder on where we are stuck.
What’s our Upper Room? What doors are WE locking?
What is our grief, our pain, our fear?
Are we limited by locking ourselves away from the world?
Are we restricting the world from ourselves because of these same locked doors?

Faith invites us to unlock the doors, to seek new ways to engage, to welcome, to share the faith.
Faith reminds us that we don’t need to be perfect, but we are called to go and reach out to others, that together we might seek out the Good News of God with the eyes of our hearts and souls. Faith empowers us to be open to the ways that we will be surprised by joy and involved in God’s mission

That faith reminds us that we are the people who have not seen but who have come to believe –
That we have received the gift of Jesus and the blessing of all those who have come before us who have helped us to know, and trust, and believe.
To know we are blessed, and to be a blessing.

And the faith continues; a faith strong enough for us to ask questions, to have doubts.
Thomas went on to do some really impressive things – like take the Gospel to the entirety of what we now know as India, establishing churches, preaching and teaching about Jesus, sharing the faith that has been shared with him.
He’s taking the “MY LORD AND MY GOD!” as far as he can. Thomas practically bursts out of the Upper Room with a powerful faith, rooted in faith, building and supporting Christian community.

And Jesus invites US then to continue doing the same… to leave the Upper Room of our hearts, to go out into the world, to live faithfully.

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe, the scripture says. COME to believe. It’s a journey, with ups and downs, that should energise us.
For we are commissioned, and equipped, and sent: to the world that needs good news. To the world that wants to celebrate. To the world that yearns for peace. To the world that God loved so much that Jesus came and came BACK to!

So may we feel the faith of Thomas today: as we are sent to the world, to not doubt but believe, to have life in the name which sustains us, to cry aloud as a prayer and affirmation: MY LORD AND MY GOD!
Alleluia!

Sermon, Easter Sunday (Year B) - John 20.1-18

 There’s a lot happening in today’s scriptures, messages of exorbitant forgiveness, of unqualified peace, of amazing grace, of divine miracle.

I don’t know if you noticed, but in the Gospel passage, there’s also a lot of running that happens.

Physical running – clearly as there is an urgency to the message.

Mary leaves the tomb and runs to Simon Peter and the other disciple: notably, the disciple to whom Jesus entrusted the lifelong care of his mother.

And as she shares the frantic news of an empty tomb – they all run to the tomb; even though they know that it is empty. Vacant.

…and we even get the information about who got there first, as though it were a sports race; and the information about what they saw when they got there.

Mary’s first encounter with the tomb remains entirely on the exterior; she saw that the stone was rolled away – and ran to the disciples.

The disciple who arrived at the tomb first: he merely glanced inside and noted the linen wrappings lying, apart – a significant detail here in John, for a number of reasons: primarily as they meant that the body of Jesus had not been stolen – if it had, the wrappings would not have been there. This was enough for him; he waited at the door. Likely bewildered. Astonished.

Then Simon Peter arrives – slightly breathless, I would imagine –
And he enters the tomb. He is the first to enter the space where the resurrection has taken place – even if he does not fully understand it yet.

And in this closer proximity, he notes that the linen shrouds are lying separate from each other;
those that had enshrouded the body in one place,
and the one that had wrapped the head of the embodied Word of God,
is rolled – scroll-like – neatly by itself.

These were not simply cast off in haste, but intentionally left with an indication of care and intentionality.

I’d imagine Peter made some noise, a gasp of surprised comprehension perhaps, which caught the attention of the other disciple, and drew him into the tomb.

And when he sees the linens as well, we hear that he saw – and believed – and that even though they didn’t fully understand, they went – presumably with less speed – to their homes.

For Mary, the revelation of this amazing moment is even clearer;
for from weeping outside the empty tomb, she looks in,
and is greeted by angels, whose presence and words bring her comfort.

Yet in her grief, she does not recognise the presence of Christ when he stands before her:
clearly, Jesus looks different to her eyes that are filled with sorrowful tears. We all know that the world can appear differently when our hearts are broken.

What a blessing then, for her to be called by name –
as the physical resurrected presence of God stands before her,
willing her to continue to learn how to live the life of faith.
The teacher – Rabbouni - invites her to see the world anew, refreshed;
and to share in the good news –
in the first, and shortest, Easter Sermon, delivered to the disciples.
“I have seen the Lord” she said. And they believed.

So why are all these details so clearly given to us in John’s account of that first Easter morning?
Well, John’s is a mystical Gospel account, telling the people about Jesus in a very intimate, personal manner.
John’s whole Gospel is structured to bring the reader
to a very close relationship with Jesus,
through which we will then respond with faith.

And this is exactly what John does for us today; in this timeless expression of Easter joy.
He shows us the importance of coming to Jesus with haste – the running they all do – that urgent approach to the source of life and light.

He shows us that the closer we come to Jesus, the stronger our faith will grow: like his followers then, as they ventured more deeply into the mystery of the tomb.

He assures us that our belief can be strong – even when we don’t understand. And we are comforted in knowing that it’s okay to not understand.

And he gifts us with the opportunity to preach our own Easter sermon when we have had our awakening: to live our lives proclaiming that we too have seen the Lord.

Because we have:
When we trust in the forgiveness of sins that has been promised us;
we have seen the Lord.
When we see people extend peace and love to each other,
we have seen the Lord.
When a spirit of reconciliation overpowers earthly divisions,
we have seen the Lord.
When we see compassion and care extended to those experiencing need,
we have seen the Lord.
When we see actions of charity prevailing without expectation of anything in return,
we have seen the Lord.
When we are raising prayers for people we love, and people we’ll never even meet,
we have seen the Lord.
When we do our best to journey as brothers and sisters, wishing the best for one another,
We have seen the Lord.
When we recognise the grace upon grace that is being showered down indiscriminately on us all,
we have seen the Lord.
When we look at one another and see a beloved child of God:
we have seen the Lord.
When we do any number of ordinary, unremarkable things, and surround them with love,
We have seen the Lord.

Because the Lord Jesus wants to be seen.
He wants to be part of our lives.
He wants to be known by all we encounter, as we celebrate Easter this day, and every day.

So let us rejoice: for the risen Lord did not come for one time and one place; Christ came for all of us, to bring us the unquenchable joy that comes from the presence of divine love.

The Lord is Risen, my friends.
He is risen indeed, and we have all seen the glory of his resurrection.

So let us then proclaim the joyous Alleluia! In all we do.
Amen.

Sermon, Easter Vigil (Year B)

 Have you ever had a secret? Something you weren’t supposed to tell to anyone?

It’s likely:
We’ve all had things we’ve heard, or learned that were meant to be kept under wraps.
Maybe it’s a secret from certain people, maybe it’s a secret for a time (like details of a surprise party). Maybe it’s something overheard that shouldn’t have been.
Most of us, at some point, has something that we aren’t meant to reveal.

The challenge with secrets, is we have to discern what we will do with them. We decide if it is our story to tell; if we are telling the right people; if the timing is right for the knowledge we’re holding onto.

In the Gospel we just heard, Mary, Mary, and Salome – these women are given a secret.
They’ve seen the fulfillment of scripture in a manner that is WAY more than they were expecting.
They were intending to go to the tomb and exercise the ministry of caring for the dead – in secret, without drawing attention to themselves: for their own safety, and that of the disciples.

Instead: they are given news, by a heavenly messenger, that they are now to exercise the ministry of life – eternal life – to the trusted followers of Jesus.

What a switch!
It’s now a secret they carry – burning within their hearts, amazing them, making them take some time to determine the best course of action.

They carry the secret until they can reveal it to the disciples, including Peter.
It’s a secret we know that they don’t hold forever – or else it wouldn’t be written for our hearing tonight.

A secret that was meant to gradually be shared with the world; as followers of the Way moved from grief to celebration; from human sadness to heavenly joy.

These women: they carried with them the overwhelming joy of the resurrection.
The switch from sin to righteousness; from darkness to light; from death to life.

It’s a switch that we lean into this night, this service that has been described as a HINGE – between Lent and Easter – between the tomb and the resurrection.
We journey tonight from the darkness of the tomb – the dark church that we entered with – to the full, enthusiastic LIGHT of life that we each received with the candle, and carry in our hearts.

Tonight is a celebration that we all feel.
A movement away from the struggle and strife of our daily burdens, to the fulfillment and exuberance in the fullness of life in the risen Christ.


We carry the history of our ancestors, which we have celebrated in the classic teachings and psalms: these moving biblical narratives that speak of millennia of receiving God’s liberation unfailing love.

We carry the tradition of our baptism, as we renew the vows that have been made; vows which affirm in human ways the relationship that we all have with God from before we were born; vows which compel us into holy action with one another and the world.

We carry with us the light, rekindled; reminding us that we have seen the light, received the light, and now bear the light.

We carry within us the connection that comes from being the family of God; as we are blessed here at the table of offering, the table of hospitality, the table of the family of God; we are nourished with bread for the journey: the journey of giving, of caring, of ministering.

We carry with us tonight the fulfillment of the scriptures; the confirmation of our faith; the celebration of the resurrection.
We carry the promise of an eternal, and ever-growing light in the world: knowing that once we have heard this Good News, our lives will never be the same.
We carry with us the potential to go into the world, living and loving as people of faith, as people of joy; as people of God.

My prayer this night is that we carry within us the confidence of faith, the assurance of grace, and the power to live as people who are forever changed by the Good News that is secret no more:
For the Lord is Risen!
He is risen indeed.
Alleluia.

Maundy Thursday sermon (Year B)

 It’s not hard to spend time thinking about food. We have advertisements for it, We hear about it in the news, we can call up strangers to deliver our preferences to the door.

We have any number of stores where we can purchase food - to take home, to take away, or to eat there. My 2 dogs remind me that they think about food a lot - every time I’m eating, or even venture near the fridge.
We can choose to be healthy, or not-so-healthy in our food choices. You are what you eat, after all!
It’s interesting, then, to consider our food choices: and the options laid open before us. A grocery store or restaurant provides a veritable buffet of food choices. An unimaginable display of culinary possibility. In a word – abundance.
Yet it doesn’t take long, when we talk about food, to recognize that we have a very different attitude towards food…
We complain about the price.
We are awe-struck about inflation.
We grumble about variety, and limited seasonable choices.
We lament the cost of specialty diets, or the lack of convenience, or the choosiness of our families.
We too easily 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. Though we know that most of us are not deprived– but our culture has made it normal for us to perceive this as our truth.
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 invited 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 always 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 barely 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.

I pray that we may 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. May we become what we eat.

Holy Week Tuesday Sermon (Year B)

 Ps 94; Lam 1.17-22; Mk 11.27-33

Tonight’s scriptures continue the pathway of this Holy Week, as we are being shown the strength and power of God, in direct distinction from the principalities of the world.

For thew world is a place of “divide and conquer” - where individualism is celebrated and humble, helpful community is not always seen as a good thing.

The lament in the psalm tonight speaks of the desperation where community is not going well. Where the worldly corruption is taking over; where the lessons of God have not been heard.

The lamentations of Jeremiah tonight speak again of the sense of isolation, of being torn apart from one another - a painful loneliness and helplessness.

The Gospel passage seems abrupt and still carries the frustrations and tempers of the preceding passage, with the cleansing of the Temple and the withered fig tree.

So Jesus today re-engages with the Temple community - the cleansing of which allow the space for Jesus and his friends to enter in; that Jesus might continue his ministry of teaching.

And we see a debate between Jesus and the rabbis - a debate which to our ears of 2024 may seem abrupt and antagonistic; yet for a community of rabbis, is not. For though rabbinical practice in discussing scriptures can look like arguing to an outsider; it is full of passion and a desire to learn. It is a debate that intends being challenged to new ways of thinking, of interpreting God’s word, of adapting our actions in God’s world.

So this Gospel is, in fact, inviting us all into that discourse to better learn God’s will. It invites us into a space of learning:

We can receive this Gospel as a simple, descriptive narrative - Having been cleansed, Jesus offers the gift of teaching.

We can also consider how the disciples are feeling - they have just witnessed the cleansing of the temple - and the withering of the fig tree, representative of Israel.

And now Jesus sits, to teach them - an act in itself rather counter-cultural; as he was not invited in by the Temple authorities - and they in fact challenge him - about John, no less.
John, who - in Mark’s Gospel - is not held up for his own ministry. He seems to be a secondary character, whose entire role is to point people towards Jesus. To bring him up in this context seems almost to highlight a counter-point on worldly authority.
But the Temple rabbis ask Jesus about him, right away, to start the discussion; maybe hoping to end the discussion quickly.

It's not difficult to imagine the disciples being overwhelmed, and stunned.
Because they realise that something more is happening. Something more ethereal. Something divine. Jesus is offering them the gift of the Holy Spirit: The comforter, the empowerer, the encourager.

In that space and that context, Jesus knows things are only going to get more difficult for the disciples to understand and navigate.
And he gives them the teaching on the power of God.       A lesson given with silence.

Silence is a recurring theme throughout Mark’s account of the Gospel - he often encourages those who have witnessed his ministry and miracles to not tell anyone what they have seen. And while we know they did eventually tell - otherwise Mark would not have this account - we also see the power of silence.

It is this thematic silence that suggests we are being pulled into an action of reflection and meditation; a silence (ROWAN PAGE 46)

That provoking, engaging silence continues in tonight’s passage.

By *not* answering the rabbis questions, Jesus shows his sense of peace. He does not need to defend himself, he does not need to explain himself. He simply IS.

And the disciples see him: confident in his ministry (where the rabbis are not)
At home in the Temple (while the marketplace vendors have fled)
Comfortable in authority - for he knows who He is - and peaceable in silence.
For the truth of God speaks volumes in silence. It speaks truth to power, it communicates love to the world.

And this is the gift that Jesus gives his followers.

The gift to learn to be still in the presence of God.

To be at home in a place of prayer.

To be comforted even when the world around is flustered.

It is the gift that we continue to be given this day, this week: should we be able to see it.
The gift of being seen, and known, and forgiven, and loved.
The gift of being welcomed, and taught, and humbles, and equipped to share the good news.

It is the gift of faith: a faith that I pray we all feel this night, as our liturgical journey takes us closer to the cross; that we may feel that faith as it compels us to also be closer to the world. 

Holy Week Monday sermon (Year B)

 Ps 69.1-23; Lam 1.1-2,6-12; Mk 11.12-25

Mark’s Gospel-- generally brief, and abrupt; yet in Holy Week we see a difference.

A third of the gospel addresses Holy Week.  This shortest collection of knowledge and teachings of the life and ministry of Jesus -  Also the most details about the final week.

And in tonight’s passage, Jesus acts in ways that seem incomprehensible.
NOT to confuse, but to illuminate in a different way.

Rowan Williams puts it this way: (Page 41)

Jesus challenges his followers - in the narrative and in the pews today -
To look and see. To notice - to pay attention.

The most obvious attention-getting place in tonight’s scriptures is the aggressive behaviour outside the Temple - and many would wish to overlook this angry outburst as un-Jesus-like frustrations. We know that The money changers and marketplace were an exploitative system where the mighty preyed upon the weak, and inequality was celebrated.

Yet Mark invites us to consider these actions in a different way - to see them in a new light. He showed his disciples - in a manner that could not be overlooked - the extreme inappropriateness of what was happening.

It’s also good to note Jesus’ claim that the temple was meant to be a house of prayer for all the nations - not just a house of prayer, as the other gospel accounts identify. For Mark, the context of inclusivity and genuine welcome was more than a little important.

Jesus is challenging the systems and structures that were prevalent in society; systems that he knew were unsustainable and were not helpful to the kingdom. It is reminiscent of the reading we have from Jeremiah’s Lamentation tonight, speaks of a community being oppressed, torn apart by apathy; with onlookers not even seeing what’s happening.

Yet they have become so commonplace, that folks don’t know they should be challenging them. And Jesus makes sure that his friends notice.

And so here we are given a message that inspires us to consider what we bring with us, when we are seeking relationship with God and with each other - and contemplate on how Jesus would feel about our interactions.

The people who should care - are unable to see the need for justice.
But it’s the fig tree that garners the most attention, according to tonight’s scriptures. The fig tree, which did not have fruit. But it wasn’t meant to have fruit at that time. It was out of season.  Yet Jesus curses it; that it may never grow fruit again.

How fascinating that the failure to thrive is then seen, noticed, and recognized by the disciples when the tree is withered the next day.  Withered trees could mean any number of things: disease, disaster, intentional destruction.

In Biblical times, Fig trees represented Israel; thus withered fig tree identified a community that was failing to thrive - imagery that would not have been lost on the disciples.

And that this fig tree narrative sandwiches around the temple experience - Mark was famous for this technique, using it to invite the reader to make the connection between a withering community and a withering tree.

…and - for the disciples to pay attention to what God’s message to them is: Trust God. Have faith. Even with things that seem too big to address ourselves (like moving mountains), the disciples are reminded of the power of prayer, of forgiveness, of fruitful, faithful living.  

Which, in turn, invites us, this Holy Week, to consider our own community:

Where do we see folks suffering, and how do we lift them up?
Where do we encounter injustice, and challenge it?
When do we recognize our own participation in unjust structures, and how do we adapt our own lives?

For the message we hear tonight is one of challenge: to see, not just observe, what is going on in our own world. This is our opportunity; it is our responsibility.

To pray; not to get what we want, but to align our hearts with the will of God.
To have faith; that sustains us and opens our eyes and hearts to new ways of sharing the love of Christ.

For if we wish to be fruitful in our faith, we must be careful to bear fruit: to provide circumstances for healthy growth, to live within reasonable expectations of ourselves and others, to embrace faithful practices that all may flourish.

And when we embrace the same invitation of trusting God and having faith, we find ourselves doing the hard work of building community- of overturning oppression - of encouraging the fullness of life that has been promised us.

And in this place: of connection, of humble self-reflection, of opening our eyes and hearts in new ways to share the love of God: here we see the truth of the good news, in new life-giving ways. What a gift to see the living Christ accompanying us on our way. 

UNCSW68 ACO/TEC Worship Docs (Intimate Partner Relation ships; 1 Cor 13)

OPENING PRAYER (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0, The Rev. Dr. Laura Marie Piotrowicz)
God of relationships;
We come this morning with hearts that seek you.
We come with the desire to speak your truth;
We come with the intention to share your goods;
We come with the passion to serve your people with love.

We know we have let you down;
We know we have injured one another.
We ask for your help in all our relationships.

Where there is doubt, cover us with faith.
Where there is despair, enfold us in hope.
Where there is anger, embrace us with love.
Help us to live in your grace, that we may declare your love in all we do. Amen.



LITURGY of the WOMEN - Based on 1 Cor 13 (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0, The Rev. Dr. Laura Marie Piotrowicz and the Rev. Robin Newman)
For the Hannahs of the world; who know and speak their heart’s desires to caring husbands and loving God, and who wait and see how God will bless them.
Love is patient;
For the Tabithas of the world, who use their skill to provide for the widows and those in need in their community;
Love is kind;
For the Lydias; whose financial stability could lead to a sense of superiority and acts of egotism, yet choose to use their means to promote the Gospel alongside their friends
Love is not envious or boastful.
For the Abigails of the world, who use their diplomacy to de-escalate conflict, and live in peace, in the name of God.
Love is not arrogant or rude.
For the Queen Vashtis of the world, who hold their dignity higher than the expectations of others
Love does not insist on its own way;
For the Ruths and Naomis, who have not experienced fairness in their lives, yet who overcome adversity with dignity and grace
Love is not irritable or resentful;
For the Deborahs of the world, who sit in justice, judging with righteousness and compassion
Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing,
For the Eves, who are blamed for breakdowns in communication and relationship; for the Hagars who are not afraid to speak truth to power
love rejoices in the truth.
For the Marys; like the God-bearer; who are supported by loving partners in the fulfillment of their mission, transformed by their faith in God.
Love bears all things, believes all things,
For the Miriams; whose faith exceeds the risks they face, and whose age is not a barrier to serving God
Love hopes all things, endures all things.
For all the women in the Bible; those with names, those who are nameless, those who are forgotten by the editting of time.
For all the women, who bear the love that God showers upon them;
Love never ends.

 

UNCSW68; EW Worship Documents (EW Worship Team)

WOMAN WHO BLEEDS: A retelling of Luke 8:31-38 (NRSV) (LMP+/EW)

In the spirit of bold and courageous women, we bear witness to another woman’s story.
As we hear our biblical ancestor’s story, we hear the stories of so many women today.
Poverty, pain, affliction and suffering is not meant to be our portion.
Let us listen together…..

* Visual of woman walking/staggering by, dragging red cloth;

We hear of the woman who bleeds;
Who is bled dry by a body that defies her
By a community that dismisses her
By a culture that rejects her
By a society that invalidates and isolates her
by a system that fails her

We hear of the woman who begs for help, for health, for dignity, for justice.
We hear of a woman stigmatized for her bleeding, the wellspring of life, and made to feel that it taints every aspect of her life, her family, her full participation in society.

We hear of a world that capitalizes on her infirmity, draining her resources, denies her dignity, justifies her exclusion, because her disease makes them ill at ease … silencing, discarding, marginalizing

We hear of the woman with nothing to give, with nothing to lose.
Whose depletion feeds her courage,
Whose weakness fuels her strength,
Whose poverty propels her to action,
Whose faith leads to healing.

We hear of a woman, emboldened by desperation,
pushing past the rejection,
grasping the very fringes of restoration,
claiming healing and absolution;
receiving transformation and re-embodying the whole –

*she releases the cloth and stands straighter


RESPONSIVE READING:
We are that woman, rising to new life, pushing past paternalistic structures that oppress and deny justice:
We are that woman challenging misogyny, creating access to basic infrastructure and land ownership
We are that woman holding up the banner for “equal pay for equal work” pressing towards a labour system that truly reflects the economy of God We are that woman protecting the vulnerable, advocating for Intimate Relationships that honour and uplifts We are that woman helping the migrant, offering hospitality to Refugees, offering healing and wholeness; We are that woman combatting Climate crisis, crafting sustainable solutions to end poverty and hunger, working together to reach net zero; We are that woman mending visible and invisible scars, availing hearth and home, voicing concern, impacting decisions for lives in conflict or crisis; We are that woman offering care and counsel, and assisting those impacted by violence-induced trauma; We are that woman coming together in unity to end racial and systemic injustice, decolonizing mindsets and stereotypes that deny our humanity; Help us O God, to be the women, the people who do the work of justice and journey together as humble sojourners/companions; lovers of kindness and carriers of Your mercy. - Amen

------------------

THEME: Public Services /  Social Protection Systems (LMP+)

SCRIPTURE: Isaiah 1.16-18

 

OPENING PRAYER

God, we come to you this morning, knowing we are better because of each other. We trust your presence in our lives, guiding and directing us to support one another within the systems that make up our society.

 

Make us agents of change, establishing structures that support the fullness of life for all people.

Where there is apathy, let us feel your inspiration.

Where there is brokenness, let us carry your healing balm.

Where there is fear, let us speak peace.

Where there is scarcity, let us share your abundance.

Where there is injustice, let us work for an equitable society.

 

God, you made us whole; empower us to use our whole selves to work for your people.

Open our eyes to the suffering, that we may seek new ways to live in love.

Open our mouths to speak with and for those who society has deemed voiceless.

Open our hands, to accompany those who feel they have been lost, left out, and left behind.

Open hearts that we may truly love justice for all your children.

Open our lives that we may engage in acts of justice, for your sake.

Move our feet away from indifference that we may walk humbly with you.

Amen.

CALL TO ACTION -

God of justice: We hear your call:

We desire to live in the economy of God – where poverty has NO place.

Help us to do more than hear your call, Lord, but to lean in to the teachings you offer.

Make our offering to you not just ceasing to do evil as a response to the world, but to

proactively learn to do good: by trying, and trying again, and growing into the fullness of life

that you promise,

Make us wise in our actions, in our use of resources, in our establishment and advancement

of social systems.

Fill us with your spirit, to dedicate our lives and our efforts to your glory, and to the benefit of all

the world.

PRAYER

Gracious God:

We thank you that you do not give up on us;

When we act in ways that are unhelpful,

When we accept systems that inflict harm,

When we dare not speak truth to power for fear of losing our comfortable spaces.

 

We thank you for showing us the opportunity to amend our ways, and to turn our lives to you.

We ask forgiveness for those whom we have injured or offended; knowingly and unknowingly.

 

We bless your name for the privilege of learning: with friends, family, neighbours.

We praise you for the chance to discuss ideas, perspectives, opportunities to improve.

As you remind us of what we can do:

 

(other reading of scripture – other versions from office)

 

Help us to listen, reflect, speak up, and take action.

Be with us as we journey to care for all your people.

Grant us persistence in this work.

When we are tired; may we find rest;

When we are frustrated, may we find encouragement;

When we are overwhelmed, may we find grace.

When we are faithful, may we know your love – and

We commit ourselves to you, and to each other, this day and forever more: for we will be your

people (in spite of ourselves);

As we join our voices with all who seek you love – as we say:

Our Father…

_____ Reflection: on Isaiah LEARN TO DO GOOD:

LEARN:

We do not learn at first; we learn by doing, by trying, by adapting, by being open to being wrong.

Learning needs vulnerability

Learning needs practice.

Learning needs companionship, assistance,

 

Learning is a process – with teachers and educators, mentors and co-learners.

So when we learn how to do something new: even something small – like ride a bike.

It takes time, and practice –someone holding the back of the seat to hold us up… then training wheels… 

then those wobbly starts, and those unfortunate falls.

But we learn: we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, wipe away those tears, and try again.

And when we do: our friends are with us, cheering us on. Encouraging, supporting, lifting us up. 

Whether we’ve been on a bike for 5 minutes, or have been a professional cyclist for 5 decades.

We learn. And it feels good.

And if we put the bike down for a while – life gets busy, whatever – we remind ourselves when we return – 

we re-learn (faster this time) how to ride that bike.

 

 

Now: I want us to apply that feel-good, easily understood analogy to the passage today from Isaiah.

Learn to do good:

The prophet is giving us the word of God – God talking to the people, who have not really been doing good. 

They’ve been focusing only on themselves, on their personal gain, their individual and isolated realities. 

Who cares about the other – I just think about me.

We know this – people, churches, business, countries. Mmm.

But: God says:
Learn to do good.

 

And people of God hear this- and we start on that pathway to learning.

But: we do it with our minds and hearts open.

We can’t learn on our own how to do good for the world.

Justice is not sorted by individuals just “sorting it out for themselves”… it doesn’t come with a one-size-fits-all manual,

 a step-by-step wiki-how.

Doing justice requires us to learn justice.

It is coming together

Hearing the difficult messages.

Acknowledging the awkward truths, the painful realities,

It is facing our failures.

 

And learning is knowing that this is NOT the end of the story.

 

It is accepting that we are not in charge,

That we are not always right

That we are not

…but that we are not giving up.

LearnING is an ongoing process.

God is always speaking.

God is always giving us the chance to do better.

 

So we learn to do good: with mentors, and teachers, and experts.

We learn to seek out those who are oppressed – so pressed down by life that they struggle to have that abundant life

 that Jesus promises us. We learn to remove those pressures, and share in the promise of salvation.

We learn to defend the orphans: folks whose age and stage means they need some extra help – a family, a 

community – yet for whatever reason they have no one: until we learn to BE those people.

We learn to plead for the widows: the women who have lost not only their husband and caregiver, but all their 

families, until they are desolate: until we learn to befriend them and welcome them back to the communities.

We learn to love: love the individuals that are easy to love; the folks that maybe we don’t want to love 

(and they maybe don’t want to love us) – the folks that have never known love in this life.

We learn to love: by setting up systems and structures that show that they are worthy: they are wanted.

We love them by demanding a society where no one is left behind, no one feels unloved, no one believes themselves

 unlovable.

For when society has learned how to come together:

 

To love justice - - to act kindly - - to walk humbly with our God:

 

Then shall our hands be cleansed, and our souls refreshed, our hearts renewed.

Then: we will have learned how to get back on that proverbial bike – and journey with enthusiasm to a world where 

justice prevails.

It’s possible, beloved. This is the good news - another world is possible: that God is always giving us ways to learn 

how to do better - how to do GOOD. 

So by the power of almighty God, Let’s learn how to make it a reality – and teach others how to live it.

____________