Sermon

This Gospel reading has some important points that this community should consider. For example, most of the fields out there have been planted in nice orderly rows, maybe just scattering seeds at random could be more productive? And what about the ditches and slews? Even the gravel roads could be seeded! There is a lot of missed opportunity that we haven’t been taking advantage of. And if there is some advice to be taken away from this parable today, it is that any ground, no matter how inhospitable has the potential to grow fruit. And not just a little fruit, but a 30, or 60 or 100 fold return.

Perhaps, with a little ingenuity and elbow grease, we could modify a few seeders to just scatter seeds at random and see how it works! Who knows what we could plant? Any volunteers?

In all seriousness, this year we have seen first hand the importance of finding the right soil to seed. We have all seen tractors carefully making their ways around the pools of standing water in so many fields. And any good farmer knows that carefully planted rows are important. They help to distinguish weeds from desired plants, they help with harvest and they maximize efficiency.

So the parable that Jesus uses, describes how God is in the world with his seeds and soil and planting techniques. Yet, this farming style seems just as crazy to us as it would  have to the crowds listening in Jesus time. This haphazard sower who scatters seed anywhere, draws our attention to the different kinds of soil. To the hard packed soil of the paths, not unlike our gravel roads. We hear about rocky soil with no depth to it. Soil that is in amongst the thorns and thistles. But perhaps the most interesting soil of them all is the soil that gives 30 or 60 or 100 fold return. These kind of returns from good soil are almost unimaginable. In fact anything that gives even a 30% return is almost unheard of in life. Anyone with a savings account knows that a 30% interest rate is crazy.

And so as soon as we hear Jesus talking about these incredible returns, we want to jump right to part where we figure out how to be good soil. We want to separate those who are bad, hard, inhospitable soils from those who are good soil. We want to see ourselves as the good soil, we like the ability to categorize and label, to judge and condemn. And if we are the good soil, the soil that gives returns of 30, 60 and 100 fold, then those people we don’t like, the people we don’t agree with are the bad, hard, thorny, rocky, shallow soil.

Yes, this is what we would like the world to work like, but we know that this really isn’t the way the world is. And if we are honest with ourselves, we know that life is full of unpredictable, unexplainable, and unknowable experiences. We know that sometimes the people with strongest faith, those who gentle and kind, those who are most vulnerable sometimes receive the hardest lot in life. We know that suffering and sin doesn’t really seem to follow a pattern but rather happens to us at random. We know that there are those out there who seem to have an easy and blessed time with life, who get all the legs up without really trying or even when they don’t seem to deserve it.

And when it comes to hearing the word as Jesus says, we know that  most of the time we are much more like the hard, or rocky or thorny soil than the good soil. We we all wish we could pray more and pray better. We all wish that we gave more to the church, more time and money. We all wish we could share our faith more easily, that we could tell our friends and neighbours just why this place means so much to us, that is when we ourselves find the time to come.

But we don’t feel like good soil… we can see and feel in ourselves, what we know to be failure. We can see and feel the rocks, the thorns and the hardness within us.

Now, remember the sower and his poor planting skills? What if he really was in charge of it all? What if that crazy and all over the place style of planting was how this world worked? What if the ditches and slews, the gravel roads, and even the pavement had seed scattered on them?

In the parable, we seem to get caught up in the business of the seeds and the soil. We like to imagine the details of where we fit. But the parable isn’t about seeds or soil. Jesus says, “Hear then the parable of the sower”. This parable is not about us, it is about God.

About God who is that radical, haphazard, all over the place sower, whose seeds end up everywhere. It is about God who plants any seed, anywhere. This is not the kind of farming we are used to, and this parable isn’t really about farming at all. In fact, this parable is about the radicalness of God’s love.

When Jesus explains this parable, he never encourages or exhorts anyone to be good soil or good seed. He says that the parable is about the sower. It is about the one who owns and works the fields, the one who owns and plants the seeds. This parable is about a God who is willing to see that there is possibility even in the rocky, hard, shallow and thorny soil. Even knowing that the seeds may not grow in poor conditions, God scatters and plants anyways.

An old sufi proverb tells the story of a mystic who is often portrayed as the wise fool. One day the mystic is sitting next to the ocean. In one hand is a spoon and in the other a bowl of yogurt. Making yogurt begins with yogurt, and one simply adds milk to make more. And so the mystic is throwing spoonfuls of yogurt into the ocean when two of his friends walk by. They watch what he is doing and then say, “Mystic, why are you throwing yogurt into the ocean, it will never turn the water into more yogurt?”.

The mystic looks up from his bowl and says, “I know it probably won’t work, but what if it does?”

Like the Sufi Mystic, the sower seems to be scattering seed, knowing that it probably will not grow, but seeing the possibility that it might. So are we the soil or the seeds in this parable? That part isn’t clear. And maybe it doesn’t matter if we know where we fit exactly. What this parable does show is a God who is willing to scatter his grace, mercy and love in all directions. This parable shows a God who is willing to try the hard, rocky, shallow and thorny soil. It is a God who is wants the Word of the Kingdom to be heard everywhere and anywhere. It shows a God who is willing to try anything to let this creation, these seeds and this soil, to let us know, that we are cherished and loved, imperfections and all.

This is God is willing to be born in stable, to wander the country side of 1st century Israel teaching and preaching, to be put on trial for blasphemy, to die a criminal’s death. And what about the seeds that land on the hard ground, that are scorched by the sun and that are choked by the thorns? What about us who know that we are not always good soil? Well, God is exactly the right sower for those kinds of seeds and the right kind of God for us. Because in perhaps the craziest part of the story, God came back from the dead, back from the hardest, rockiest, thorniest part of life. And God in Christ rose from dead, so that we will rise too. So that we who are the bad soil and the dead seeds might know that the sower still has plans and room for us. That the sower has a place for us in his harvest. Christ was raised from the dead, so that we sinners and failures might know that God’s promise for us is love, mercy, grace and New life.Amen. 

Sermon

It is not easy to see the ways that God is working in the world. In fact, this whole faith thing, believing in a God for which there is no proof, worshipping a God who is one and three, being a part of a community for which the only bond is shared faith — None of this makes much sense. And so, on the days when there is so much else going on in our lives, which is just about every day, it is hard to get on board with Jesus and see that he is in fact doing something for us.

As Jesus talks to the crowds today, it is easy to hear their complaining. They are hurting and broken, they are seeking help from God or the messiah, and nothing has come. It is no wonder that they cannot see that John proclaimed the coming of Messiah and or that Jesus is the Messiah.

In fact, all that the crowds can see are categories. All they see are the people that John and Jesus have ministered to. They see John out in the wilderness separating himself from the religious system and preaching agains the pharisees and temple authorities. All they can do is see that John is not ministering to the people that he should be ministering to. If he really was a prophet shouldn’t he be telling the crowds to be more like the pharisees, who are righteous and rule abiding?

And Jesus, he doesn’t hang out with the right people either. He eats with tax collectors and sinners. Or more precisely, those who hold debts and those who owe debts. Jesus is not pulling himself out of the system like John is, but rather, Jesus is turning the system on its head… or trying to. If he really was a Messiah, he would be coming to force everyone to follow the law. Not breaking it himself.

The crowds live in these categories, seeing only that God’s grace is for those who have earned it. And God’s attention is for those who are righteous. We can feel the same way when we are looking for Jesus, we see only people we think have been helped, and only the people who seem to be blessed have God’s attention. So we begin to be unable, as the crowds were, to recognize God working in our midst.

(Pause)

There was something special about Wilderness Ranch. The pace of life there is much more relaxed than the other bible camps in Alberta. There are no camp dinning halls full of noisy kids at meal times, no canoeing, no craft rooms, no fancy skits and plays, no cabins and no indoor plumbing. Certainly, there is something special about the more conventional summer bible camps. But if you want to get away from the world for a while, Wilderness Ranch is the place to do it.

After a few weeks of working at the ranch, the novelty of cooking over fires, riding horses and sleeping in tents every day had begun to wear off. Soon these things became chores and work. I remember one particular day where getting through it was pretty tough. The young adults who work at bible camps don’t do it for the money. Many work at camp because they love of the experience of being outdoors. Others carry a sense of calling to the wonderful communities of Christian fellowship that camps become.

All those feelings of calling and love had left us the day we decided to ride to Honey Coolie, quite a far ride from camp. 3 hours each way. And that morning things had not gotten off to a good start.

As I cooked breakfast with my group of 7 campers, they were restless. A few boys began to rough house beside the fire and without much effort, they managed to knock the pot of oatmeal into the fire, ruining breakfast and making for a wet fire pit. Once the fire was back going and the oatmeal was finally cooked, the meal was late, and everyone was hungry.

Breakfast, and its complications, seemed to show what kind of day it was going to be. Chapel seemed to be slow and to drag. Saddling the horses took longer than usual, all the lessons on how to do it properly from the previous days, were forgotten.

The ride to Honey Coolie was particularly frustrating. It seemed like more hats flew off than normal. If felt like the tree branches we had to duck under as we rode were lower and thicker than usual. The hills felt steeper and muddier, and the horses were slower and more impatient. It of course didn’t help that with Honey Coolie in sight, we couldn’t find the gates to three different fences and had to take down and then repair them in order to make it through.

We didn’t arrive until well into the afternoon. The campers were wiped and the staff was tired. The kids were hungrily devouring their lunch when we discovered that somewhere along the way half the food had been left behind. So the staff went without that day.

After a longer than usual rest at Honey Coolie, we finally decided to head back to camp.  We soon realized that it would take the remainder of our sun light hours to make it back.

As we headed back the campers began to complain of sore butts and empty stomachs, and we still had a couple hours of riding left. By this time, even the community gathered at wilderness Ranch, which is supposed to be the escape from everyday life, had succumbed to the burdens and weariness of the long day. This place that was supposed to be a rest for our souls, from every day life, was now just like all the places and things in life that weigh us down.

As we reached the top of a particularly steep climb, it seemed like most of us were reaching our breaking points. The sun was hot and the horses wet with sweat and tired after a long day. As we broke the hill top and started down everything changed.

Opened up before us was a wide valley with a view of miles in each direction. We could see distant cattle herds grazing in the evening sun. The sky was a deep blue with clouds wandering across the horizon. Our hillside was bathed in shadow and the long gentle down hill was exactly what we all needed.

As we slowly made our way into the valley below, there was silence all around. No hats fell off heads, no campers where whining or complaining, horses were relaxed and settled.

As I followed in behind the last camper, I looked around and marveled at what we were experiencing. All the thoughts of supper and bedtime left my head. The tiredness and soreness of a long day were forgotten. I could feel the breath of the horse beneath me. I reached down and grabbed some tall grass from the hillside and I could taste graininess in its full flavour.

I could not help but feel God’s presence among us. We all had been given a gift. A gift of rest and calm. The words from Matthew came to my mind, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Here we were with no responsibilities or need to rush. There were no tvs or cell phones, or cars or lights or microwaves. There was nothing that any of us there had to do but to ride down the hill. The moment changed us, it changed me. It opened me up to a new sense that everyday life, with our hurry up syndrome and our constant need for distraction, made it hard for us to see God working in our midst. And yet, in the moments when it is least expected, when, like the crowds, we are complaining that Jesus and John are not ministering in the way we expect,  when all we can see are those who are better off than us, when all we can do is judge those who are worse off than us — in these moments Jesus comes to us. Jesus comes offering an easy yoke and a light burden. Jesus offers the yoke of New Life and burden of Faith. Jesus offers his love as the yoke that will carry our burdens, that will make them bearable and give us the strength to carry on.

That is how Jesus works in the world. Jesus comes turning all expectations upside down. Jesus comes to eat with tax collectors and sinners, those who hold debt and those who owe debt. Jesus comes with love, to change the way we see the world. Jesus offers rest for those who are weary. Jesus’ yoke is light and that makes our burdens easier to bear. Jesus does not take away our burdens, but carries them with us, and gives us a place to rest. A place to rest in Christ’s love.

²⁹Take my love upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my love is easy, and my burden is light.’

Amen

Sermon

It is green again. We are back to the familiar and steady season of “Time after Pentecost”. Lent, Easter, Pentecost and Trinity Sunday are all behind us. Now, the whole Body of Christ, Christians around the world, and our community here… we all prepare to settle into the routines and familiarity of ordinary time, what some call this long season of green.

In some ways, this Sunday welcomes us to the ordinary. We have been on the dramatic story of Christ’s birth, ministry and passion. We have witnessed the beginning of the church in Pentecost – again. It can feel like the words of welcome that Jesus speaks about today fit this moment very well as we settling into ordinary time.

Welcome is a word of greeting. It is a word of invitation. It is a word spoken by a host and received by a guest. Yet, when Jesus instructs the disciples today about this notion of welcome, it is because of where they are being sent. Where they are going, being welcomed might not be so easy to come by.

Just prior to his words about welcome, Jesus warned the disciples that their reception by the people and communities that they encounter may not be so warm or open. In fact, as the messengers of the Gospel  that are sent into the world, the results of their proclamation would be division, conflict, danger, violence and even death.

Hospitality in the ancient world was not lightly given. To welcome someone into the community was to welcome not just an individual, but to welcome the entire community that they represented. If a neighbour from another village was visiting, one welcomed that whole village. If a distant relative was passing through town, then one’s whole extended family was welcomed.

The disciples represented the community of Jesus’ followers. As they went out into the world to spread the news of Jesus, they would be welcomed or not, and thereby Christ would be welcomed, or not. And all too often, resentment and resistance would be what these preachers would receive. The Jesus movement represented change, represented a reversal of power, represented a new way to understand God’s actions in the world. As the first Christians soon discovered, their proclamation of the Good News was met with persecution, hostility and violence. Some were imprisoned, some were thrown to the lions, some where crucified like the Christ they followed. It was dangerous business to be a traveling preacher depending on the welcome and hospitality of others.

We may not live in a world where preaching the gospel comes with such danger, yet the same inhospitality, the same resistance to the Good News exists in our world also. The story of the radical God who comes into human existence, who shows us what God looks like unclose, who rejoins us to God by living our lives with us… this God is a threat to our world just as much now, as 2000 years ago.

We want to be in control of our own lives, we want to put ourselves first, we want to be our own Gods. To hear of God’s activity, of God’s coming into our world as a guest, means that we cannot be God. And so we resist. We resist through apathy, we find it hard to care about life and death, sins and forgiveness, hate and love when everything seems to be going so well. We resist through distraction. We seek to be entertained, we are always looking for the next moment to keep our minds and appetites engaged.

So when God comes into our lives seeking to be welcomed into our homes. We make ourselves inhospitable. We push the God who comes away, so that we can continue to be our own Gods, so we can continue to seek our own happiness and our own entertainment.

And yet God comes as the Beloved Guest anyways.

In the movie “Babette’s Feast”, set in 19th century Denmark, a stern Lutheran Pastor, and two his dedicated and faithful daughters, become the host of a very unlikely guest. Babette, a French refugee, arrives at their door, and begs them to take her in, and she commits herself to work for them as a maid, housekeeper, and cook. Sometime after their father dies, the two daughters decide to host a dinner to commemorate the 100th anniversary of his birth. Babette experiences unexpected good fortune and implores the sisters to allow her to take charge of the preparation of the meal. Although they are secretly concerned about what Babette, a Catholic and a foreigner, might do, the sisters agree to accept her meal, and Babette’s offer to pay for the creation of a “real French dinner”.

She leaves the village for a few days in order to return to Paris, as she must personally arrange for supplies to be sent to Jutland. The various never-before-seen ingredients are plentiful, sumptuous and exotic, and their arrival causes much discussion amongst the villagers. As preparations commence, the sisters begin to worry that the meal will be, at best, a great sin of sensual luxury, and at worst some form of devilry or witchcraft. In a hasty conference, the sisters and the congregation agree to eat the meal, but to forego any pleasure in it, and to make no mention of the food during the entire dinner.

As the stern community does their best to reject the earthly pleasures, of the exquisite and abundant banquet, Babette’s extraordinary cooking breaks down their distrust and superstitions. Old wrongs are forgotten, ancient loves are rekindled, and reconciliation of community settles over the table. In the meal shared by the broken and resistant community, the Beloved Guest restores the relationships of all present.

This table of abundance, this table of forgiveness, this table of new life is the table that we are invited to each time we gather. Jesus, our Beloved Guest, the one who comes into our world, into our lives, hosts us at His table. In the meal that is shared between resistant and broken sinners, we are mended and healed. In the meal that is the Body and Blood of Christ given for us, we become the Body of Christ for the world.

Each week we enact the relationship of Beloved Guest and Host. God comes as Beloved Guest and then hosts the table. We become the hosts for God’s actions of love and mercy in the world, and God transforms us into Beloved Guests as God feeds and nourishes us in faith. We repeat this pattern of worship, of gathering, of hearing God’s word, of sharing in this Holy meal, of being sent out as Beloved Guests because we need the practice. We need to be reminded over and over again that God has come to us, and that we are hosts to God in the world. We need to be sent out over and over again as Beloved Guests, who are to go out into a world that may not welcome us, but that needs to hear the Good News of Christ.

Jesus’ words about welcome find us today as we settle in to the Ordinary Time of worship. And yet, as we move back and forth in the roles of host and beloved guest, we are given and we offer the hospitality of God. As the Beloved Guest comes to us in water, in bread and wine, and in the community of faith, we are changed. Changed each week into Beloved Guests and then we are sent out into the world again and again. This familiar and often repeated time of worship is, indeed, not ordinary at all.

Amen. 

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Sermon

Holy Trinity Sunday is a unique festival in the church year. All the others ones tell specific stories, like we celebrated last week at Pentecost. The coming of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire to the disciples, who then preached the Gospel was a story of drama and intrigue. Holy Trinity Sunday is quite a contrast. It is about a doctrine of the church. The trinity describes who God is, yet it is a complicated and often difficult to understand concept that we struggle to explain. We have all heard the children’s message examples. God is like water, solid, liquid, gas. God is like apple pie: crust, filling, ice cream. God is like someone who puts on different hats, sometimes a parent, sometimes a child, sometimes a friend. Each example that we try give ends up failing when stretched too far. The relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit is just too much, too broad, too complex to explain.

It is no wonder that some of the disciples doubted Jesus, even as they witnessed him ascending into heaven from the top of a mountain. They had stuck with him through the whole story. They has seen the improbably acts of his ministry of teaching and miracles. They had seen him fall into the execution plot of the temple authorities. And they had now heard the rumours and seen Jesus alive, even though he should be dead.

This is the final moment in the story of Jesus, and the final moment of the Gospel of Matthew. It hardly seems like the time for the disciples to still be doubting, yet the doubters are sticking out like a sore thumb there on the mountain top, not quite ready to get on the bandwagon. Their doubt is pulling them apart, pulling and tugging them away from the moment.

(Pause)

As Lori walked the downtown streets, she was deep in thought. It had only been a few hours since meeting with the representative from corporate head quarters. Lori had been called in on Saturday to meet her manager and corporate rep to talk about her future with the company she worked at. She was the assistant manger of a Tech Support call center and just a few hours ago, she had been offered a position at the head office. It would be a cushy job with nice perks and a much bigger salary. All she had to do was take over the management of the call center for six months and during that time lay off all the employees, and prepare the branch to be moved to India.

The idea of a better job and better pay was very appealing. But, firing her fellow employees, many of whom she had become friends with, did not seem like the right thing to do. Her manager gave her time to think about it. Before she left he had told her something, “You need to grab a hold of this opportunity Lori. No one is going to give it to you. You have to make something of yourself. We are all out for number one”.

Now, Lori was wandering the streets near her office, completely uncertain. She felt like she was being pulled apart at the seams, with no easy solution in sight.

(Pause)

As the disciples stand on the mountain top and witness the risen Jesus with their own eyes, the doubt that some felt was probably not disbelief.  But perhaps they had a hard time making sense of what exactly all of this meant, all the events they had just lived through and all the the things that Jesus had told them. Their doubt is not skepticism, but rather a sense of being overwhelmed and pulled in different directions. Our doubt comes from the same place.

Doubt pulls us apart, it threatens to unravel us and undo our sense of understanding and meaning. Faith and doubt are nearly the same, as they are the way we put together all this stuff about God, about the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Neither faith, nor doubt are about knowing with certainty or about complete skepticism. Rather, faith and doubt are lived experiences, part of day to day living with all this stuff about God and Church. Faith and doubt are a relationship and they are a part of being in relationship with God and each other. Faith is planted in grown through worship and prayer, in families and at church. It is a part of everyday life. And in the same way, doubt creeps into all parts of life. Self doubt, doubt when it comes to others, doubt when it comes to the community. Doubt comes in the moments when we are stretched to limit and when making sense of everything is too much to do on our own.

Did you notice the contrast that Matthew makes when it comes to doubt. He does not say some believe, and some doubted. Or some had faith and some doubted. Or some were certain and some doubted but Matthew reminds us where are our doubts are met. Simply believing harder or being more certain are not the solution to doubt. Matthew says that the disciples worshipped but some doubted. All the disciples worshipped, and in the mist of their worship some doubted.

And despite their doubt, Jesus gives them all the same task. To preach the Gospel and to Baptize in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Jesus words are not just for those who feel like they have a strong faith or feel fairly certain of the message. The mission of the Gospel is for all members of the community. The doubtful and the faithful, the same group. And so is Jesus’ promise for all, not just for those feel like it is true in a given moment, but Jesus reminds and helps his followers to remember exactly what that promise is, “Remember, I am with you until the end of the age”.

(Pause)

As Lori continued to walk the quiet downtown streets on Saturday night, she eventually came to a building with its’ lights still on. She peered inside a window to see what was going on. Inside there was a small group of people singing. Some were moving to the front of the room, hands held open to receive. Each one was given a piece of bread and then a sip of a cup of wine.

Lori slipped into the back and sat in a bench by herself. The singing continued with people constantly go forward, hands help open to receive the bread and wine.

Finally, one of the people stood next to her bench and pointed her to the front of the church. She was not sure what to do, but Lori got up and walked to the front. There she copied the actions of those ahead of her in line and held her hands open to receive the bread. When it came to her turn, the person with the bread, looking Lori right in the eyes, said to her, “The Body of Christ, given for you”. The same thing happened with the cup. And then she went and sat back down. She couldn’t believe it. Here was a group of people who were sharing and giving, who were receiving and being fed. The words “Given for you” hardly seemed anything like, “we are all out for number one”. The words spoken here were for a community. After feeling like she was being ripped apart by her job, Lori left this place feeling like she had been put back together.

(Pause)

Our doubt comes most alive in worship. And Jesus meets us in our doubts in worship. When we gather, there will always be some of us that doubt. We will all have times when we are feeling pulled apart and unsure…  when it will be hard to speak the words of worship. Words like, “Peace be with you” or “Lord to whom shall we go?” or “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again”.

But it is in these words that the community of God, the community of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Trinity comes to us. The Trinity comes to us remembering us. Re-membering us together. Re-joining us, in faith, to the community of faith. Being re-membered, or made a member again, is part of the work of the Trinity. It is a part of the dance of the Trinity to give and receive, to move back and forth, to go forwards and backwards. The Trinity has room for our doubts, room for us to not understand and yet still be a part of the community.

There the disciples are, and there we are, in the mist of worship, some with doubts. And the promise that Jesus makes, the promise that God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit makes to us, is that we are remembered. We are not given certainty and Jesus does offer to help this crazy story of God in the world make sense. But the Trinity offers a place to be a part of the community. The Trinity is the promise that we are re-membered and re-joined.  God remembers and rejoins to the dance of the one in three, the back and forth, and the to and fro. God remembers and rejoins us in worship, with our faith and with our doubt.

Amen. 

Sermon

The great day is coming to an end. For 7 Sundays we been celebrating the resurrection, celebrating Easter. We have witnessed the empty tomb, seen the wounds of Jesus with Thomas, walked to Emmaus with the two disciples. We have heard about the Good Shepherd who calls his sheep by name, and of the Father’s house with many rooms. And last week Paul preached to us about a God who knows us each, and wants to be involved in each our lives, and in the life of our community.

All of this and everything from the angels who announced Christ’s birth, to his ministry and teaching, to his trial, crucifixion and resurrection… all of this has been preparation for the disciples. Preparation for Jesus to leave them behind.

As Jesus speaks to his followers today, they are not quite sure what they are seeing. For them it is still the first day of the resurrection, Easter Sunday. They have heard two of their members tell the story of how Jesus walked with them on the road to Emmaus, but now when Jesus himself shows up they are uncertain if he is a ghost. Jesus offers to let them touch him to see that he is real and he eats some fish to show that he is alive.

Yet, up until now the disciples had been packing themselves up and getting ready to leave. They had followed Jesus around for years, dutifully supporting him as he went about this ministry. Yet, in the last few days everything had come crashing apart. Jesus was arrested, put on trial, and then executed like a common criminal. After that disaster there was nothing left for them. Their hopes for a messiah had been crushed. The excitement of following a popular preacher and healer had been replaced by disappointment, shock and grief.  For the disciples, the story was over, there was nothing else to stay for.

(Pause)

Dan flicked off the open sign and closed the door to his Outdoor Supplies shop. It was the nearing the end of hunting and fishing season and most of his business had dried up. Dan had been running his store for years. Each season the hunters and fisherman would stream into the small town, pick up supplies in a frenzy and eventually leave. And each year Dan was left behind.

He loved meeting the people and hearing their stories as they passed through town. He loved that almost all of them had to come to his shop and meet him personally in order to go out into the back country. But most of all, he liked that even for a few weeks or months a year, he seemed to matter. People wanted what he had.

And each year as the seasons closed, he found it harder and harder to wait for another year. He felt abandoned, forgotten and alone. He had to close up his shop and pack everything away, and this year it was the most difficult it had ever been.

(Pause)

Packing it all up and heading home is natural for us. When things do not go the way we expect, we are good at moving on. A relationship doesn’t work out, move on to the next. An employment prospect doesn’t work out, we find another. A loved one becomes ill and dies, we push away the grief and try to pretend that everything is fine. Everything inside us tell us to avoid the pain, avoid the conflict, avoid the shame. And so we do.

Packing ourselves away is simply self protection. Withdrawing from life is simply a defense mechanism meant to keep us safe from harm. As we share in this community each week, as we are fed through the word and through the Body of Christ it probably seems like a simple matter to live boldly as a Christian. And yet, Monday morning arrives, and that community that felt so empowering seems so far away.

The disciples must have felt the same way. Jesus is dead and gone. The reason for staying has been taken away. The hope that they had in this little community has been ripped away from them.

And then Jesus shows up again. Jesus shows them that he is alive again. Jesus reminds them of who they are and what they have become.

You are witnesses of these things.

Jesus’ words spark something in the disciples. He isn’t there to hold their hands, or to lead them around galilee and judea. Jesus is not the witness. Jesus is the story. The Old Testament, Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms, those were all about Jesus… God has been preparing the people of Israel for the Messiah for a long time.

The disciple’s own experiences of the previous week. The trial, crucifixion, death and now the appearance of the resurrected Christ. This is how Jesus has been preparing his followers.

While they have packed themselves up, Jesus has done the opposite. He has unpacked, opened up, changed them. Jesus takes all that they have learned and all that they have experienced and places it in front of them once more. Jesus says to them: You are witnesses of these things – You are witnesses of God’s work in the world, Witnesses of the Messiah come to save, Witnesses of death being turned into life. The disciples have learned the story, and now it is their turn to tell it.

(Pause)

Dan began to put his inventory away, there was a knock at the door. A johnny come lately hunter was standing in the window. Dan went and unlocked his door allowing the hunter in.

“Thank you so much, I was worried you were closed”. the hunter said.

“We will soon be closed for the season” Dan responded flatly.

The hunter went quickly to gather the supplies he needed and met Dan at the cash register.

“So what are you looking to get?” Dan asked automatically, but not really interested.

“To be honest, I am not really that great at catching anything.” responded the hunter. “Do you have any advice? You locals, you guys have seen and heard it all. We just come and go, but you have lived all the action here, you are an eye witness”.

Surprised, Dan looked at the man across from him. After a moment a smile crossed his face. “Yeah, we can get a drink next door and I could tell you what I have seen and heard”.

“Sure” said the hunter. “But aren’t you going to close?”

“No” said Dan. “I am not ready to pack it in for the season quite yet”.

(Pause)

Jesus names us Witnesses today. Jesus gives us a story to tell also. Like the disciples, we have heard the scriptures and been prepared for the coming of Messiah. We have experienced the life, death and resurrection of Christ. And in those things, Jesus has opened us up and unpacked us. Jesus has washed and fed us. Jesus has prepared us to stay.

Jesus gives us a story to tell by making us part of the story. Just as Easton is washed in the waters of baptism, she also dies and rises with Christ. In baptism is where we all begin as witnesses. Witness to the God who knows and loves us all.

And in Baptism, Christ makes his story our story. We are not only witnesses to Christ, but we become part of his body, his community. Where there only seems to be death, where all we want to do is to pack up and move on, Christ appears showing us new life. Christ turns us from packed up to unpacked, from dead to alive.

As we move to the end of this great day of Easter, to then end of this long celebration of the resurrection, God is preparing us. Not preparing us to be alone, but to be tellers of the story. God prepares us to be witnesses, and because of that we worship with joy.

Amen. 

Sermon

It would serve us well to listen carefully to Paul today. Paul is telling us about a radical God that we don’t get to hear about very often. His words might have originated in Athens, from the place where Greek philosophers would gather to argue and debate ideas. But make no mistake, Paul is speaking directly to us. And there is a sadness in his sermon and there is a certain joy. The joy is the proclaiming the living God in whom we live – we move- and have our being. The sadness is in realizing that God is essentially unknown to most North Americans.

The place and people to whom Paul was speaking was not much different than our world today. The Athenians were careful folks who liked to hedge their bets when it came to religion. Scattered throughout the city would have been statues and temples to numerous Gods. To Greek Gods, Romans Gods, Persian Gods, and many more. Newborns would often be dedicated at each temple, just to make sure that all the bases were covered. Zeus, Athena, Mithras, Poseidon were all honoured just to be sure.

And just in case any gods had been overlooked, there was the statue to the unknown God. A coverall, so as not to offend any other gods out there that didn’t have specific statues or temples.

When Paul was in Athens, his purpose wasn’t to preach or evangelize. He was just visiting, waiting for his friends to re-join him while they preached in a neighbouring city. Paul, was more like a tourist than a traveling preacher. Yet, when he saw this statue to the unknown God, he must have seen an opportunity. An opportunity to address a culture that was quite concerned with covering their religious bases by doing the right rituals and keeping the right rules. The Athenian philosophy of religion was, make the gods happy and they won’t bother you,

The pluralistic religious system of the Athenians is not all that far off from our modern version of religion that is practiced today. In fact, sociologists have come up with a term for the most widely “practiced” religion in North America, and it is probably not the familiar name of a denomination. Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. This term was born out of study North American Teens and their views on religion. There was a surprisingly high level of agreement on what teens thought about God and the faith. There was no difference in views between those who were regular church attenders their whole lives to those with no church background at all.

These are the core statements of their faith:

1. A God exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.

1. Good people go to heaven when they die

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is basically the belief that God sets out some ground rules for behaviour which is the moralistic part. The Therapeutic part is that God is a being who exists to make us feel good and solve our problems. Deism is belief in a God who just created the world and left it to its own devices, God does not have much bearing on the rest of our lives and doesn’t really engage us personally.

The God of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is the God of Oprah, Hollywood and financial gain. It is the God of inspirational greeting cards, reality tv, music videos and consumerism.  Making money, being self-centered and ignoring the big issues of life are also encouraged, because God wants to send us to heaven as long we are good people, which most of us are.

This distanced, self centered approach to religion is precisely what Paul’s words address today. And this kind of religion is exactly what our sinful selves wish religion to be. The pluarism of the ancient greeks and modern day Moralistic Therapeutic Deism appeal to us at our basic levels. They are religions were we get to be in control, and God gets to be a divine therapist and butler. They don’t demand anything of us, and they don’t intrude on our daily lives in any kind of real way. They are the perfect religion for a curved in on itself humanity.

As Paul walked around the Aeropagus, looking at the variety of statues he must have been asking himself,

What about sin?

What about evil?

What about death?

What about hope?

What about grace?

What about love?

For Paul, all of the greek Gods would have been unknown. His are the questions that none of the unknown Gods could begin to answer. These are the questions that sit below the surface when life is going well, but that rise up and force us to consider them when things go wrong, when life begins to hurt, to be painful. The God of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism seems pretty empty in the face of addiction, disease, divorce and separation, in the face of death. It seems pretty empty in the face love, beauty, sacrifice and wonder too.

In fact, the unknown gods of the ancient greeks and of our modern world is not really a god at all when compared to the God who washes, names, kills and brings back to life all in the one baptism. This unknown God does not compare to the God who feeds, forgives, joins and loves in communion. This unknown God does not compare to the God who was born, who lived with us, who died on the cross and rose on the third day in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

Paul sees the opportunity with the statue of the unknown God, to show his audience that God is known. And even more so, that God knows us. As Paul preaches to the Athenians:

What you therefore worship as unknown, I proclaim to you. God is known.

What a radical difference from what the Athenians knew. Paul does not just re-interpret the unknown God, but re-interprets the whole religious system. The God that Paul knows is the one who created all things. The God the Paul knows is the one who gives us life and movement and being — and does not require petty sacrifices in order to show mercy. The God that Paul knows, know us — knows what it is like to be born, to live, and die as one of us.

The God knows us sees us — all of us. Sees our faults and failures, our imperfections and loses. Our confusion and blindness. Our intolerance and bigotedness. Our despair and frailty. Our successes and hopes. Our dreams and desires. Our joys and our loves. All of these God sees.

The God who knows us hears us — our pleas for help. Our anger and frustration. Our sadness and sorrow. Our celebrations and thanksgivings. Our happiness and our wonder. Our normal and everyday words. All of these God hears.

This God who know us loves us — all of us. God loves all of us as a whole. All of us as individuals. All of us personally, intimately, completely. This God loves us despite our sinfulness and despite our faithfulness. This God who knows us simply loves us without condition.

The unknown Gods of ancient and modern times promise heaven for good behaviour.

But the God who knows us promises New Life to those that are dead. New Life for all creation. New Life for each one of us.

In a world that is often looking to cover its bases and for people whose best vision of what God could be is a divine therapist and butler. God offers so much more.

As Paul preaches to the Athenians and to us, the unknown distant gods that we try to make happy are not Gods at all. The God of all creation, of all life, of all that moves of all that is. This God is known. This God is known because this God first knew us. What a radical God this is! As Paul preaches:

What you therefore worship as unknown, I proclaim to you. This God knows us.

Amen. 

Sermon

Julia sat in her spot surrounded by a group of other hopeful believers. They were gathered together in their church for the big moment. 6PM, May 21st, 2011. The End. Judgement Day. The Rapture. It was all supposed to happen very soon, they were all certain of it.

Only a few months ago, Julia hadn’t been a church goer at all. She had been a lonely night shift clerk at a hotel. She didn’t have many friends, and no close family. One day a member of a church had come by and passed out some tracts about Judgement Day. Julia was skeptical at first, but figured that maybe it was at least worth checking out. What if these people were right?

She began attending church meetings and soon got wrapped up in the whole thing. This new group of people had welcomed her with open arms. They shared their strong convictions of about the end of days. And quickly Julia had become a believer too, and she felt like she was finally a part of something.

(Pause)

As Jesus speaks with his disciples, they are back on the other side of Easter. Sitting together at the Last Supper right before Jesus was to be betrayed. They are a gathered community, anxiously waiting for the next big step. Thomas and Philip betray the fears of the group. “Lord we don’t know where you are going”. “Show us the father, and we will be satisfied”.

The disciples want something to hold onto. They want a place where they can be secure. Jesus and the disciples had been traveling the countryside of Judea and Galilee for years. Constant wandering, moving, searching.  Now they had come to the big city of Jerusalem as the next step in their journey. Some of them must have been thinking and wondering about just going home.

Finding that feeling of being at home, of being secure and protected, of being in control and knowing the answers — there is something inside all of us that seeks and desires to arrive and to belong.  As we watched floods and fires destroy houses and homes, we cannot imagine what it is like to lose everything, we do not know what it is to have nothing. But we do know, if only in the smallest way, what it is like to not belong, to be on the outside looking in, to want to go home, if only having been away for a while.

Whether we have actually lost a home to fire or flooding, or if we have searched for that feeling of home at work, with family, in faith, or through purpose, we know what it is like to be drifting and tossed about. In less dramatic ways than fire and floods, we have walked through crowded malls feeling utterly alone, we have been away from friends and family long enough to feel lost. We have felt out of our element as the world changes around us. We know what it is like to be stranded with a feeling of the unknown. A feeling of the unknown that can overwhelm us.

(Pause)

As the congregation sat there, Julia looked around the room. There were many anxious faces and furrowed brows. Some were praying, others holding onto loved ones. Most just waited.

More quickly than she thought, 6PM approached. With only five minutes to go, the tension in the room mounted. All stared at the hands on the big wall clock. As they moved slowly towards the six o-clock hour many began to whisper, “It’s time”.

In the last minute, many people grabbed hands and huddled close with those around them.

Some people began speaking out loud: He is coming! It will happen now!

Many took deep breathes and held them.

6PM.

And…. nothing.

A few people looked around wondering why nothing happened. But most continued to wait. And wait. And wait. 5 minutes, 15 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour.

(Pause)

As Jesus answers Thomas and Philip, he does not just give them what they ask for. They want to know the way, they want to see the Father. Jesus doesn’t pull out a road map, or ask the Father to make an appearance. Instead, Jesus tells them God is already on the way. That the Father already sees them.

In all their searching and wondering, their anxiety and worry, Jesus reminds them that they already have been given what they are looking for. Jesus has been there all along as they have been wandering about. Jesus has been there all long showing them what God looks like up close and in the world.

“I am the way, and the truth and the Life. If you know me, you will know my Father also”.

The disciples can only see the God that they can imagine, but Jesus gathers them up anyways, because God sees them and who they are and where they belong.

While we are busy struggling with the unknown. While we search for security and control with Thomas and Philip, while we try to predict the end of the world in the hopes that we will find our home, Jesus shows us that God is finding us in the unknown, that God is searching us out in the all the questions of life, and that in fact,  God is making us at home in his house — by knowing us by name, by joining with us in all of life’s experiences, by seeing us, even when we cannot see God.

Jesus doesn’t offer us control. He doesn’t answer our questions as we would like or point us to a nice place to stay. Instead, Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.” In my Father’s heart is where you belong. God is your home.

(Pause)

By 7PM most people at the church looked defeated. Some stared at the clock in disbelief. Others wept openly. Some prayed, while others looked angry. No one knew what to do.

Julia looked around at all these people who had gathered for the event. In but a few short months, many had become friends and like family. She thought about going to her apartment, but for some reason she stayed — like everyone else. She felt like she was home already.

That is when she stood straight up.

“Maybe it did happen!” she said out loud. “What if we are already in the place God wants us to be?” she asked.

“Maybe God has given a new home, and actually we didn’t get taken away, but God came to us.”

(Pause)

In a world where fires and floods can destroy our houses. In a world where we look for a new home in the  destruction and judgement of all creation. In a world where there are more questions than answers, more searching than finding, more out of control than in control, more unknowns than known. In this world, God is already bringing us home. Bringing us on the way that is Christ. God is with us when our physical homes are lost and destroyed. God is finding us in our searching. God is seeing us in our desire to see on our own. God is gathering us into his house and his heart. God is our home.

Amen. 

Sermon

The horn blew. The gate opened. And out danced the 2000 pound bull into the arena. The rider on top held on for dear life, free arm flailing, feet whipping back and forth  Right at the 8 second mark, the bell rang and the rider fell off, landing hard on the ground. He scrambled away, while the big angry bull kept bucking around the arena. The wranglers closed in quickly, one set to rope the bull around the neck, the other set to unhook the flank rope. 

But before the bull could be caught, it bucked right into one of the gates along the wall. The wranglers arrived, settled the bull and lead it back to the chute. As the bull left the area, the crowd began to roar with laughter. Out from their pen and into the arena, streamed dozens of white sheep. The bull had broken their gate and set them free. 

(Pause)

Even, far away from the fields and pastures of first century palestine, far away from the shepherds and sheep that Jesus spoke of, the image resonates with us still. The promise of a shepherd who is with in the valley of the shadow of death, the shepherd who searches for the lost one in the 99, the shepherd who guards the gate. Somehow we know what it is to be gathered and care for, protected and loved. Or at least we like the idea…

Shepherding hasn’t changed much in 2000 years. Then, and in many parts of the world now, tending to flocks is done in the same way. When Shepherds come to town for supplies, they put their sheep in pens, guarded by a gatekeeper. After they purchase supplies, they return to the pen and call their sheep. The sheep know their shepherd and follow him or her out to pasture again.

Out in the wild, Shepherds will gather bushes and rocks to build temporary pens at night. In the opening, the shepherds will sleep, using their own body as gate. This way the predators must pass over them to get to the sheep.

For the disciples, shepherds should have been common place, and the image of God as Shepherd was familiar. The psalms would have been well known by most people in Jesus day.

And somehow, despite the fact that they know the psalms and shepherds, they do not know what on earth Jesus is talking about.

The part that the disciples don’t understand isn’t the shepherds, or the sheep gate or the sheep pen. The problem is the sheep. The problem is that Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples how to be good sheep.

(Pause)

As the sheep scattered around the rodeo arena, the wranglers and other cowboys quickly jumped to the task of gathering the sheep back up. Some on foot, some on horses, some with ropes. The scene quickly became chaotic. 

As hard as the cowboys tried they just couldn’t coral the sheep. As the horses approached, the sheep would run off in all directions. As cowboys threw lassoes at the sheep, they couldn’t get the loops to stay around their necks. As some daring bull riders tried to grab sheep with their arms, they would just squirt free. 

The crowd loved the action, laughing at each failed attempt to get the sheep back where they were supposed to be

(Pause)

For nearly 2000 years, Christians have called God the Shepherd, have called the church the sheepfold and have called ourselves the sheep.Yet, we don’t have to look much past ourselves to know why the disciples couldn’t understand Jesus. We like the idea of a Shepherd that lovingly chases after us and cares for us. But we want to go into the pen on our terms. We want to be free to be sheep in our way.

Like the disciples, we have resisted, or even been unable to see Jesus calling out to us. The Blind Man whom Jesus heals in the pool of Siloam does not recognize Jesus once he meets him later on. The disciples cannot imagine how 5 loves and 2 fish will feed a great crowd. Mary Magdalene cannot recognize Jesus near the empty tomb on Easter morning until Jesus calls her by name. Thomas will not believe, unless it is on his terms.

All of these actions, washing the blind man, feeding the 5000, naming Mary, giving Thomas faith. These are the same actions that God does in the Church. This is how the Shepherd cares for the sheep in the pen. And this is what we resist. We do not want to arrive here empty, we do not want to be washed, and fed and loved. We come here, to the church, to the pen, hoping to earn our love. We want God to reward us. We want to be here on our terms. The Shepherd can stay here in the pen, and when we are ready, we will show up with our best face on… but most of the time we are out there in world and not really wanting a shepherd. We don’t want God to be a hassle in our lives.

That is what the disciples don’t understand. That is what we don’t understand. Jesus gives us this image of the Shepherd and what the shepherd does, but there is no mention of how to be good sheep.

And in the end, that isn’t the point. Good Shepherd Sunday is not about how to be good sheep. Today, is a reminder of who God is. Jesus is our Shepherd who calls us, who cares for us and washes us, who feeds us, and names us.

Washes us in Baptism, and brings us to new life.

Feeds us in the Lord’s supper, at the Lord’s table, with his own body and blood.

Names us as his sheep who belongs to the Shepherd.

Gathers in faith, gathers into this community, this family, this flock.

These are the actions of God in Christ.

Here in this place, it is the shepherd who is good, not the sheep. It is the shepherd whose actions matter, not those of the sheep. Here in the church, here in this congregation, Jesus calls us home. Yes, we are sent out each week into the world. We go out to pasture to a world fraught with the danger, a world that tells us it is all about the sheep, and what sheep do.

But in God’s church, in God’s sheepfold, Jesus reminds us again and again, that in washing, feeding, naming and calling that Jesus brings us to himself.

Jesus’s sheep pen, Christ’s church, is not a place were we need to earn our way. It is not a place where we give of ourselves or where we offer something to God, to the Shepherd. It is a place where God gives to us. It is a place where we receive. It is place where we come to know the Shepherd by his voice. “I baptize you. I give my body for you. I forgive you. You are mine”.

Wherever we have been scattered, or lost, whatever we cannot understand or are confused about, the voice of the Shepherd gathers us to him, brings us back into his flock.

(Pause)

Finally, after the rodeo had been delayed long enough with the antics of cowboys trying to catch sheep, someone went to find the shepherd. When he arrived at the arena, he stood at the broken gate of the sheep pen. 

[Whislte] “Here sheep!”  and by his call the sheep came running to the shepherd. They would not be herded, or captured or restrained. Instead, they need to be called. Called by familiar voice. As the sheep piled in, the shepherd sat down in place of the broken gate, making his body the new gate. 

So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

Amen.

Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, ‘Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?’Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. ²⁴Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.

25 ‘I have said these things to you while I am still with you. ²⁶But the Advocate,^* the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. ²⁷Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Sermon

Have you ever had the chance to linger in a cemetery? To walk down the rows, to contemplate the messages carved in rocks and to reflect on life and eternity?

After enough time staring at headstones, reading the short messages of comfort and hope, one must begin to wonder: Did anyone here buried in the ground arrive at this place in the way they expected? In their last days, hours and minutes of life, did anyone think to themselves, “This is just how I planned it”?

It is more likely that most people in a cemetery, given the chance, may have thought , “I did not expect to end up here or to arrive in this way”. Perhaps, these thoughts are eerily similar to many of your own thoughts in these past days and hours.

It is, of course, not just in the moment before death that we wonder about our choices and paths in life. We all engage in the daily exercise of being surprised by where life or the spirit takes us, YET at the same time we hunger for assurance that our plans and visions will lead us to where and what we desire.

Today, as Jesus speaks with his disciples, Judas (not Iscariot), expresses that hunger for assurance. “Lord, how will you reveal yourself to us, and not the world?”

Translation:  Will I be one of the ones who sees you? Will things turn out the way I expect them to? Jesus, will my plans get me to where I want to go?

We know this hunger for assurance all too well. We know what it means to have a vision of the future in mind, to have expectations, and to strive for a particular result. And we all know the uncertainty that accompanies these visions and expectations. We know the difficulty of sticking to the path, the difficulty of making it to the ending we hoped for.

Everyone who lands at this seminary comes with dreams of the end. Each student has ideas about the possibilities and the excitement of following a call to study, about who they will become when it is all over. Each member of the faculty and staff have has a view of the potential that lies in each student, of who they could be shaped into during this journey….

And then… all assurances disappear with the first class, the first mark, the first chapel service, the first sermon, the first expedition to the library, the first tuition payment, the first presidential glasses twirl, the first mention of an article 4, the first “good question” assignment in theology 1, the first lecture on ordo in liturgy.

All these firsts, and seconds, and thirds of experience, begin to cloud and obscure the hopes and dreams of the final product of a seminarian. The assurances that we will make it to the ending we hoped for are quickly stripped away, and the hunger to find something to hold on to only grows as time passes. And in fact, as you are at the completion of seminary, the outcome of your formation is probably vastly different from the one you envisioned at the start.

And once assurances are gone, anxiety, doubt, and uncertainty set in.

“Jesus, how will you reveal yourself to us?”

Seminary is place where calling should be clear. Seminary is a place where Jesus should provide assurance that we are on the right track. Seminary is a place where we should be able to finish the way we hoped.

But it isn’t.

And it feels like Jesus forgot or didn’t bother to reveal the grand plan along the way.

Jesus must have overlooked the fact that everyone sacrifices so much to be here, and a little assurance would make that sacrifice go down a little easier.

Jesus doesn’t satisfy our hunger for assurance. He doesn’t seem to care about soothing our anxieties and doubts, and worse yet, Jesus does not seem to be around making our plans come to fruition. In fact, he seems to have better things to do because he is on his way out, he is about to leave…

And here you are about to graduate… Here we are about to watch those we love pick up and move on with congratulations, well wishes and Godspeed to the next place along the way. Yet, still the hunger for assurance remains, and Judas’s question becomes our question.

“Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us?”

Jesus is leaving.

Where does that leave us?

But, Jesus doesn’t just leave.

Jesus is leaving peace. Leaving peace with us.

It isn’t about filling our endless hunger for assurance. It isn’t about giving us the outcomes we dreamed of, or about fitting into our efforts to achieve the end point. We don’t get to become the people we hoped to become.

Jesus is leaving peace with us and isn’t about assurance at all. Jesus tells us something different.

Where the world gives us hunger, where our sinful, broken, alienated selves are hungry, Jesus does not give as the world gives. Instead, Jesus gives us peace. Jesus does not fill us, instead feeds us with peace.

That is the thing about life and about seminary — assurance, in fact, won’t get you anywhere but hungering for more. In the midst of the struggles, the workload, the balance of family and school… In the midst of the need to measure up to CTELs, internship supervisors and at colloquies… In the midst of coming to a new community, building relationships and leaving friends behind… in the midst of all these things, Jesus leaves us peace over and over again.

Degrees, call processes, and certain futures are not what will fill our hunger. Whether you know what is coming next or not. Whether you are hopeful in this moment or hoping for some kind of sign that this time and energy spent wasn’t all a waste. Whether you have prayed for, supported, fed, clothed and followed a loved one on this journey, or been uprooted and dragged along for a ride with no clear end. Whether you hunger for Jesus to reveal himself to you or you feel like you might be one of the chosen few. Jesus is here giving peace, which the world does not give.

And so as you are about move on into the future, one might ask you: is this how you planned it?  Did you arrive the way you expected to?

Judas (not Isacariot) speaks the question we all have, “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us?” and Jesus answers, “I am already here”.

In these last and final moments, as we linger in this seminary. As we walk down the halls one more time and as we contemplate life and the future. Jesus is leaving us his peace. Leaving peace for those here to stay. Leaving peace for those on to the next vision and dream. Leaving peace for an uncertain present. Leaving peace for an uncertain future.

As we hunger for assurance, Jesus is washing and feeding, gathering and joining.

Washing us in baptism, washing us in new identities and making us new people.

Feeding us with body and blood, feeding us with knowledge, skills, talents, gifts, and experience.

Gathering us into the Body of Christ, gathering our failures, losses, sufferings, pains, sins, deaths and endings into himself.

Joining us to the mission of God, joining us to the Church, to community, to each other, to faith.

Washed, fed, gathered, joined. This is the answer that Jesus gives to our question. This is the peace that Jesus leaves with the world, with us all.

Amen.

Sermon

It is still the first day of the week but it can feel like the excitement has already worn off. The drama of an empty tomb, the joy of the story: He is Risen!. It all seems like a lifetime away. Easter is seven weeks or 50 days long, but already the celebration is over. We  have moved on and things are back to normal. The story almost sounds like: Christ is Risen… and so what…

It didn’t take long for the disciples to begin hiding away in a locked room. They hear that Jesus is alive and still they lock themselves away in fear. They have been told the good news by Mary Magdalene… but as far as they are concerned Jesus is dead.

And what else is there to do? Whether the story is true or not, Jesus isn’t there to keep things going. Dangers are as real as ever, life is now changed, but also must go on. And so quickly all the disciples fall into fear and hiding. The resurrection hasn’t changed anything for them, there is no New Life for this terrified group. Instead, they are packed away in a tomb of their own making, they are closed off to the world.

Like the disciples, we often go about our lives as if Jesus is still dead. We may not hide ourselves away in real locked rooms, but we are surrounded and entombed by apathy, by a world that simply doesn’t care about how the resurrection might change things. In times gone by non-Christians may have tried to make the claim that Jesus wasn’t real, or that he did not rise from the dead. But today, a non-believer might say “Jesus was raised from the dead? So what? Who cares? How does that make a difference in my life?”. Jesus is worse than dead, he is ignored and made meaningless… at least that is what it can feel like to those of us who have gathered ourselves together on this second Sunday of Easter.

With the news full of a Royal Wedding and Elections before and after Easter, this second Sunday can feel forgotten. Jesus’s resurrection is left behind by a world getting on with more exciting things. The world lives as though he is still dead and does not matter. And we too begin to move on, we just keep going with life, everything becoming the same after Easter as it was before.

(Pause)

The people of St. David’s were tired. Easter had been a busy and exciting time, but now into the second week, everyone seemed to have the post- Easter blahs.

In a pew near the back of St. David’s, Danny a 15 year old boy stood grumpily with his parents. As Father Angelo read the Gospel lesson for the day and came to the part where Jesus breathed on his disciples, Danny mumbled something under his breath, “Really? I hope Jesus had mouthwash in the tomb, otherwise that’s gross!”.

Danny’s father heard the sarcastic comment come from his son. He lifted his arm up to put it around Danny’s shoulders, but Danny slithered away like someone trying to shake a spider off his back. Danny’s father sighed deeply… yet another sign that he was losing his teenage son.

On the way home, Danny and his father fought, like the often did, about going to church at all, and when they arrived at the house, Danny refused to talk to his dad for the rest of the day.

(Pause)

As the disciples hide away and try to figure out what they should do now, something or someone appears in their midst. The words come first. Words that feel like wind.

“Peace be with you”.

Jesus doesn’t just make an appearance at the empty tomb. Jesus shows up right in the middle of his disciples. Right between them. Close enough for them to feel his breath.

“Peace be with you. As the father has sent me, so I send you.”

He breathes on them the spirit.

Until this moment Jesus seemed dead to the disciples. And until this moment, the disciples were living like they were in a tomb, hidden away from the world. And now Jesus walks right into their tomb and finds them. Jesus shows them that he is alive. But this is more than Jesus being alive, this is Jesus breathing life back into them. This is more than Jesus the man who has died and risen. This is God who has conquered death — for all.

He speaks like God in creation. Just as God spoke, “Let there be…” in the beginning. Now, Jesus speaks his followers into life. “Peace be with you. God’s Shalom be with you. The wholeness and completeness of God in flesh be with you”.

Just as God breathed Life into the Adam, Jesus breathes life into his death-like disciples. Jesus gives them the spirit, the sign that God lives in them and they in God.

Jesus breathes hope into them when the world seems too dangerous. And Jesus keeps coming, even when the disciples are still in the locked room. Jesus will not leave them. Jesus won’t let them keep falling into fear and hiding, into a life where there are dead men walking.

(Pause)

Later on that evening, as Danny’s Father sat watching the news, Danny came and sat down on the couch next to him.

“Dad?” began Danny. “I am sorry for being a jerk today. It is just that sometimes this whole church and Jesus thing doesn’t make any sense. It makes me feel stupid.”

“I don’t always get it either Danny” answered is Father. “But I do know that whether Jesus had bad breath or not is hardly the point. It is the fact that a dead person came back to life. And when I need some hope in my life, the fact that Jesus rose from the dead, and promises that we will be raised from death to life also…  well,  it makes the bad breath worth it”.

Danny thought for a moment and then spotted the bowl of pop corn on the coffee table.

“Can I have some dad?” asked Danny.

“Sure, but just so you know… I did breathe on it” answered Danny’s father with a twinkle in his eye.

“That’s okay dad. It’s still worth it”.

(Pause)

Jesus comes even though our world doesn’t want to believe that Jesus matters anymore. Jesus speaks words like “Peace be with you” even when we cannot see how they change us. Jesus breathes the spirit into us, even when we cannot feel it. Jesus comes when we cannot see why and cannot understand what this all means.  And Jesus keeps coming.

Jesus comes gathering us each day, each week, each Easter, and Jesus comes in between. The faith that Jesus gives is not solid belief or concrete certainty that we can hold on to. The faith that Jesus gives is hope for a future that we cannot see. It is trust in things we cannot understand. Jesus brings us into the relationship of faith, a relationship that goes on, that exists in the in between times, between each day, between Sundays and between Easters. Jesus brings us into a relationship of faith that exists between us, between neighbours, friends and family. Jesus brings us into a relationship of faith that joins us together into One Body — the Body of Christ.

And so, even when we often continue to live our lives like Jesus is still dead. Even when we have heard the Good News, and are still hiding and afraid. Jesus comes into our midst.  And Jesus keeps coming. Today, tomorrow, next week and in between.

Amen.