Do Not Worry (Feb 27 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 8, Feb 27 2011, Huntley

Readings:  Isaiah 49:8-16a; Ps 131; 1 Cor 4:1-5; Mt 6:24-34

"Do not worry"

I have a confession to make.  Sometimes I find it a challenge to take the Sunday readings and gospel and figure out how to make them relevant for us today.  Jesus was after all, speaking to people of a different era, living in a different culture some 2000 years ago. 

But not today.  In today’s gospel it is as if Jesus is speaking directly to us, to our time and place.  “Do not worry,” Jesus says.  And he’s speaking to us.  There’s a lot of worrying going on in our world, in our community.  So much so that one in nine of us will be diagnosed with an anxiety disorder at some point in our lives.  It is the most common of all mental illnesses in Canada.  We worry a lot, to the point where our worrying can overcome us.  Not only, as our gospel reminds us, can worrying not add a single hour to our lives, but it actually has the opposite effect.  Excessive worrying is a risk factor for heart disease, suppression of the immune system, digestive problems and short term memory loss.

What’s going on here?  Why do we worry so much?  It’s not because we’re bad people.  In fact if anything it’s the opposite.  We want good things in our lives, we want good things for those that we love, for our families and friends.  Parents worry about their children not because they’re bad parents, but because they’re good parents.  But somehow, we’re afraid that we may not get all these good things that we want in our lives and the lives of those around us, and so we worry.  Where are we to turn?

Martin Luther once said that a god is that to which we look for all good and in which we find refuge in every time of need.  That to which your heart clings and entrusts itself, says Luther, is really your god.

What do we trust to provide us with the good things of life?  For many of us in our world today, we turn to money.  We trust that by accumulating wealth and material possessions and earning power, we will be able to provide ourselves and our families with the good things of life.

This week I was helping my daughter Michelle pick Grade 11 courses for next year.  In order to help guide the selection, the school provides a web site with various questionnaires that you can fill out that will help you narrow in on what courses you should select.  So we started to go through the web site, and one of the first questions was the following:  How much money do you want to make when you start to work?

Our society trusts in money to give us the good things of life.  In Canada we spend over $7 Billion a year on lottery tickets.  That’s roughly the same as the total amount of charitable donations each year in Canada.  It works out to over $200 per person.  And why do we buy lottery tickets?  Well, you’ve seen the ads on TV.  It’s because if we get lucky and win, we can have all those good things that we wish for.

We trust in wealth to get us the good things of life.  But let me let you in on a little secret.  It’s not working for us.  We live in one of the wealthiest communities in this city, in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, at a time when there is more wealth in the world than there ever has been in history.  And still, we worry, if the statistics are to be believed, we worry more than ever.  What’s going on?

Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Note what Jesus is not saying here.  He’s not saying that we don’t need stuff.  We do need things, we do need food and clothing and shelter and so on.  God knows that we need these things.  And Jesus is not saying that wealth is a bad thing.  He knows that we use money to pay for food, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But the question he’s asking is, where do you put your trust?  Who or what are you willing to serve?  Who or where do you turn for the good things of life?  Do you turn to God or to wealth?

It’s a choice between two worlds, the world of scarcity and the world of abundance.

  

Let me try to illustrate.  Suppose we believe that wealth can supply our needs.  Then having this $20 bill is a good thing.  I can buy stuff with it. But notice that one of the characteristics of this $20 bill is that if I have it, you don’t.  And that’s good for me, because if there’s something that I need or want that costs $20, I’m going to get and you’re not.  You see, having money as our priority sets us up as competitors.  And it sets us up as competitors, competing in a world of scarcity, where there’s not enough for everyone to have everything they want.  And if that’s the case, I start to worry about my competitors, and I start to worry about not getting enough.

However, suppose I trust not money, but suppose I trust God to provide me with the good things of life.  And suppose that by trusting in God and entering into relationship with him, I receive, for example, the gift of peace.  I become a more peaceful person, living in harmony with others, worrying less.  Tell me, how does that affect you?  Do you get less peace because I have more of it?  Not at all, God still has lots of peace to give you, and my peace is something that I can share with you.  In God’s world, when I have something, you get more of it too.  This is abundance, not scarcity.  When I trust God to give me the good things of life, the truly good things of life, things like peace, love, joy and compassion, then not only do I receive them, but you get them too!

Sure, sure, some of you are thinking.  Peace and love are all good, but I’ve still have to eat!  I still need a house to live in.  I still want a pension for my retirement.

That’s true.  And that’s exactly where Jesus makes us a promise, one of the most incredible promises that has ever been made.  God knows you need that other stuff, he tells us, food and clothes and so on.

But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Make your priority the kingdom of God, put your trust in God, act justly and the rest will be taken care of.

This is the promise that Jesus gives us in today’s gospel.  Do we believe it?

No, we don’t believe it.  It sounds too good to be true.  

But are you really ready to give up on such an amazing promise so easily, without even giving it a try?  Do you want to stay in the world of scarcity and competition, do you really want to keep turning to wealth as your provider, and worrying about whether that’s going to work?

Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these other things will be given to you as well.

Hard to believe?  Don’t think it’s realistic?  Then, here’s the challenge I’m giving you this week.  Give it a try.  For this one week, starting today, make the things of God your priority.  Put your trust in God, seek to know him, strive for righteousness, enter into relationship with him, in prayer, in action.  And see how it goes.  See whether you can learn to have faith in God and worry less.  See whether you get more or less of the good things of life by seeking God in your life.  See whether your understanding of what the good things are changes over the course of the week.

It is the greatest promise that we’ve ever been given.  Give it a try this week.  And then I want you to report back.  Send me an email, give me a phone call.  Comment on this blog.  Tell me what it’s like to trust in God’s promise, to see the world through eyes of abundance and not scarcity.  Maybe it will be hard.  Maybe it will be easy.  Maybe it will make a difference in your life, maybe it won’t.

You’ll never know until you give it a try.

Amen.

Love Your Enemies (Feb 20, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 7, Feb 20 2011, Huntley

Readings:  Lev 19: 1-2,9-18; Ps 119:33-40; 1 Cor 3:10-11, 16-23; Mt 5:38-48

"Love your enemies"

Today’s gospel passage is one of the most important of all Jesus’ teachings.  The injunction to “love your enemy” is perhaps the most radical thing that Jesus ever said. It has changed the course of human history.  It inspired Mahatma Gandhi in the struggle to liberate India from British rule in the 1940’s.  It was the cornerstone of Martin Luther King Jr’s campaign for civil rights in the United States in the 1960’s.  And we hear echoes of it today in the peaceful demonstrations that continue in Egypt and throughout the Middle East.  However refusing to resist an evildoer and loving your enemy can be costly.   Jesus, Gandhi and King were all put to death, and so were four demonstrators in Bahrain just three days ago.

As I looked at our texts this past week, I was struck by the similarity of both the first statement and the last statement, and I think that together they serve as the foundation for all that comes in between.  Our Old Testament reading from Leviticus begins with God telling the people through Moses that “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”  And at the end of today’s gospel, Jesus concludes by saying much the same thing:  “You shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Back in the 1990’s, when Michael Jordan was the best basketball player in the world, Gatorade put out a commercial (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0AGiq9j_Ak)  which showed children playing basketball, interspersed with highlight clips of Michael Jordan’s best moments, and of Jordan actually coming to the playground to play basketball with the kids.  And the refrain of the song that played throughout the commercial, and the tag line that Gatorade used for years afterwards was very simple:  “Be like Mike”.

Well, if the marketing people were going to come up with a tag line for today’s gospel, and even for the whole of Jesus Sermon on the Mount, it would probably read “Be like God”.

“You shall be holy for I the Lord your God am holy.”  The words tell us something about who we are and they hold out a vision for what we are becoming and who we are meant to be.  We are to be like God.  And we shall be because of who God is and because of the relationship that we have with him.  As Paul tells the Corinthians in the second reading, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”  You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.

Jesus says much the same thing at the end of today’s gospel reading.  “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  Now this is one of those verses where the English translation can sometimes lead us astray.  Sometimes we think of perfect as getting 10 out of 10 on a test, or sometimes we think it means doing nothing wrong.  But the actual Greek word used in the gospel of Matthew is “telos”, and telos has much more the sense of “what something is for” or what it’s purpose is. 

Let me give you an example.   Think of an acorn.  Now what is in an acorn is for?  Well, an acorn is meant to grow into an oak tree.  That’s it’s purpose, the end for which it was created.  In Greek we would say that the telos of an acorn is to grow into an oak tree.  That’s the word Jesus is using when he says “Be perfect, therefore, as you heavenly Father is perfect.” Imagine, then, that we are like the acorn, and God is like the oak tree.

So what is our purpose?  Our purpose is to grow into the people that we were created to be.  And we are meant to be like God.  That’s the identity that we’re growing into.  That’s what Jesus means when he says “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  Jesus wants us to become that which we already are, albeit in embryonic form:  children of God, living in the kingdom of heaven.

What Jesus is giving us in today’s gospel, and in the Sermon on the Mount as a whole, is not so much a prescription for ethical living as it is a blessing and affirmation of who we are and a vision of who we are becoming.  Be like God.

But what is God like?  That would seem to be the next question wouldn’t it!  If we are to be like God, then what is God like?  Well, Jesus says, God is like this:  God makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.  So you should do the same.  Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.  Why?  Because that’s what God does, and you’re God’s children.

But that’s hard!  How can I love my enemies?  Is that humanly possible?  What would it look like in practice? Wouldn’t it be risky?  What does it mean for a human being to be like God?

  

Fortunately for us, we have an example of what it looks like for a human being to be like God.  Because God so loved the world that he sent his only Son, Jesus, to live among us.  If you want a model for what we’re growing into, we have the example of Jesus’ life among us, lived here on earth, recorded in the gospels.  Jesus is the model for us of what it looks like to love others, no matter whether those others are friends or foes, Pharisees or tax-collectors, family members or Roman soldiers.  Jesus had enemies, real enemies, enemies that eventually put him to death.  But even as the life drained from Jesus on the cross, he was able to love his enemies and pray for those who persecuted him, and ask God to forgive them.

That’s hard.  That sort of love for enemies may seem beyond our grasp.  Where do we even begin to put this into practice?

We begin with God’s love for us.  We begin by acknowledging and believing that we are who Jesus tells us we are, God’s children.  When we can begin to believe and accept and experience God’s love for us, just as we are, warts and all, when that becomes a reality in our lives, then we begin to respond, just as a flower opens when it feels the morning sun.   And as we open up and look around and see others, we realize that God loves them in the same way that he loves us.  And we begin to respond to the other not as an enemy, but as a brother or sister that we care for.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount is both a blessing of who we are and a vision of who we are becoming.  It is therefore about identity, about who we are as children of God, and it is also about transformation and growth, a vision of the people we were created to be and how we are to grow into the identity that we’ve been blessed with.  And just as an acorn does not become an oak tree all on its own, but rather is nourished by water and soil and sun, we too will be nourished as we grow into our identity as children of God, nourished by God’s love which bathes us with both sun and rain.  It is God’s love working within us that enables us to love our neighbours, and even, eventually, our enemies.

Love has within it a redemptive power.  Love is healing and nourishing and creative. It is God’s love for us that gets us going and builds us up and works the sort of transformation in us that we are talking about.  And it is our love for others, including those we call our enemies, that begins that process of redemption in them as well.

You have heard it was said, “you shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.”  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.

Amen.

Salt and Light (Feb 6, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 5, Feb 6 2011, Christ Church Huntley

Readings:  Is 58:1-12; Ps 112; 1 Cor 2:1-16; Mt 5:13-20

You are the salt of the earth;  you are the light of the world

If you ever want to see moose, one of the best moose spotting places in the world is along Highway 60 as it runs through Algonquin Park in the month of May.  As the snow melts in the spring it leaves behind pools of salty water, salty because of the salt that has been spread on the highway during the winter.  And moose need salt!  During the winter months they become salt-depleted, and so in the spring they are attracted by the salt, and are nourished by it.  And if you drive this stretch of highway in the spring, you’re sure to see dozens of moose along the side of the road.

Salt is good stuff.  Salt not only makes things taste better, but it is essential for life.  Of course, these days we sometimes think of salt as bad, because we get too much of it in our diets.  But to the people that Jesus is speaking to in today’s gospel, salt is a wonderful thing.  Not only is it needed for human health, but in those days before refrigeration, it was also the best way to preserve food.  If you wanted to make sure that things don’t go bad, you add a little salt. 

You are the salt of the earth.  You are the salt that is nourishing, life-giving and brings out the good in things.  You are the light of the world.  Don’t hide under a basket.  Put your light on a stand where it gives light everyone.

Who, me?

Yes you.  You George, you’re the salt of the earth.  You Linda, you’re the light of the world.  You John and Sue and Mary, yes all of you.  Salt and light, every single one of you.

What’s your response when I tell you this?  When Jesus tells you this in today’s gospel?

I tried this out at home this week, away from church, in what you might call a normal setting.  As Jonathan and I were sitting having breakfast together one day this week, eating our bowls of cereal, I said to him in all seriousness, “Jonathan you are the salt of the earth.  You’re the one that brings life to people, who nourishes them, who brings out the good in things.  You’re the light of the world, so don’t hide your light, get out there and shine and bring light to others.”

At first he looked up at me to see if I was kidding, to see if I was setting him up for some kind of joke.  But when he realized that I was serious, he smiled.  I think he felt affirmed.  In that moment I think he grew just a little bit.

You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.  Jesus isn’t kidding, he’s not setting us up for something.  He’s serious.  He means it.  And he’s not talking about people in general.  He’s talking about you.

He’s not talking conditionally.  He doesn’t say if you do this and this and that then you will be salt and light.  He’s not asking a question.  He doesn’t say “would you like to be the salt and light of the world?”

No he’s telling you what you are, affirming what you are, confirming what God made you when he created you:  you are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.  Do you believe it?  Believe it.

Last week in our gospel, Jesus blessed us.  This week he is telling us who we are, affirming us in who we are.  This is your identity.  You are the salt of the earth, you are the light of the world.  And out of that identity flows mission.  You are the light of the earth, so let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Now you might be wondering what are these good works that Jesus is talking about?  What does it mean to let our light shine before others?  I expect that the disciples who were surrounding Jesus were wondering the same thing.  And I expect that their first response was to think of the scribes and the Pharisees.  In Jewish society at that time, it was the scribes and the Pharisees who were considered to be the good people, the righteous people.  And their good works emphasized a scrupulous adherence to the purity laws and to religious observances, things like hand-washing, praying, fasting and so on.  Is that what Jesus is calling us to?

  

And Jesus, perhaps anticipating their thoughts, says to them, “no, your righteousness must be even greater than this, greater than the righteousness of the scribes and the Pharisees.  I want you to go beyond merely keeping the law and practicing religion.  Your good works, your righteousness must consist of those things that we’ve been talking about:  I want you to be peacemakers, I want you to practice mercy.  Be compassionate, practice forgiveness, do justice.

Look not to the righteousness of the Pharisees;  rather look to God’s words spoken through the prophet Isaiah which we heard in our Old Testament reading this morning:

“Is not this the fast that I choose:  to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?  Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house;  when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?  Then your light shall break forth like the dawn.”

You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  So let your light shine before others.  How?  By acting justly and living compassionately.  By freeing those who are oppressed.  By offering food to the hungry and satisfying the needs of the afflicted.  That’s how your light will shine, that’s when your light shall break forth like the dawn, and you will give glory to your Father in heaven.

You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  Yes, you.  Because if not you, then who?  Believe it and great things will happen, because it is through us that God acts in this world.  Each of us has our own way of shining.  Some will teach, some will help, some will travel far, some will stay near to home.  But when we all shine our light, the effect is more dazzling than the sunrise at dawn.

During these past 10 days, the young people of Egypt have come to believe that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world.  They have put their lives on the line in order to end oppression, to feed the poor, to bring peace and justice to their country.  Their actions have been strong and courageous, yet peaceful and compassionate.  Their light shines before us, and we pray for a just and peaceful outcome to their demonstrations.

Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

Imagine what would happen if we really took this to heart, if we really believed what Jesus is telling us, if we stopped hiding our light and instead put it on the lampstand for all to see.  Imagine an end to injustice, an end to hunger, an end to oppression, imagine what things might start to look like, in our homes, in our community, in our country, in the world.

It is through you that God works in this world, doing infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.  You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.

Amen.

The Kingdom of Heaven (Jan 30, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 4; Jan 30 2011

Readings:  Micah 6:1-8; Ps 15; 1 Cor 1:18-31; Mt 5:1-12

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”

Jesus went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him, and he taught them, saying “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Now, what is this kingdom of heaven that Jesus is talking about?

Or, to ask the question another way, if the kingdom of heaven was a choir, what sort of choir would it be?

As many of you know my daughter Michelle sings in a choir.  She has in fact over the last few years been a member of two children’s choirs.  Presently, she’s a member of the Christ Church Cathedral Girls’ Choir, you remember the choir that came and joined us for our worship in October.  And before that, she was a member of an Ottawa Children’s Choir.  Both are very good choirs.  But they have very different approaches to things.

When Michelle wanted to join the Children’s Choir, the first thing she had to do was an audition.  She had to sing for the choir director, whose job it was to evaluate whether she could sing well enough to be invited to join the choir.  And so the week before her audition she would practice singing, so that she could become good enough to qualify for the choir.

A few years later, Michelle heard about the Cathedral Girls’ Choir, and decided that she would like to join that choir.  So we contacted Tim, the choir director, and we started to tell him about Michelle’s qualifications and experience choral singing, and we asked when she would be able to audition. 

“There aren’t any auditions,” said Tim.  “Everyone’s welcome to join the choir.  Just bring her to the practice on Thursday.”  Tim’s philosophy is that everyone is a singer, that all are welcome and that as members of the choir all the girls will learn to sing beautifully, and that everyone’s voice will make a wonderful contribution to the choir’s purpose, which is, after all, to worship God.

In last week’s gospel, we heard Jesus begin his public ministry by proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”  In today’s gospel, even before he says a word, Jesus begins to act out for us just what the kingdom of heaven looks like.

Recall that Jesus has just passed through the waters of baptism in the Jordan River.  Then he went to the wilderness where he was tempted.  Now, Matthew tells us, Jesus goes up the mountain.  In Jewish thought, the mountain is the place of revelation, the place where God and humanity meet.  For Matthew’s readers, Jesus going up the mountain would immediately call to mind the story of Moses in Exodus chapter 19.  Moses led the people of Israel through the waters of the Red Sea. Then they passed through the wilderness until they arrived at Mount Sinai.  There the Lord called to Moses from the mountain and instructed him to tell the people “if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, then you shall be my people.”  And when the people agreed that they would indeed obey God, then the Lord summoned Moses up to the top of the mountain. 

But in Exodus, only Moses was allowed to come up the mountain.  The people were told to stay away, that if they even came close to the mountain, they would die.  So they kept their distance.  And Moses went up the mountain, and God spoke ten words, and wrote them on tablets for Moses to take down to the people.  And the words God spoke to the people were commandments:  you shall have no other Gods but me, and you shall not make idols for yourselves, and so on.  You shall do this and you shall not do that, and if you keep these commandments I will be your God and you will be my people.

This story of Moses going up the mountain would have framed the expectations of Jesus followers as Jesus went up the mountain.  But Jesus is full of surprises.  Instead of telling his disciples to stay below, he brings them up onto the mountain with him.  No conditions imposed, no strings attached, no need to keep their distance.  The people are gathered into God’s presence on the mountain, just as they are.  And when Jesus opens his mouth to speak, the words that come out aren’t commandments.  He doesn’t tell the people what they should and shouldn’t do.  Instead Jesus pronounces blessing on the people.

It is a dramatic illustration of the new relationship with God that Jesus is calling the people into, a dramatic change from the story of Moses.  Instead of a God who keeps the people at a distance and imposes conditions on them, Jesus is telling us that God wants to draw us near, no audition required, and bless us.

Repent, Jesus has told them.  Change your way of thinking.  For the kingdom of heaven has come near.  The kingdom of heaven is yours, and you are blessed.

And from this place of nearness, this place of intimacy, Jesus teaches us and pronounces blessing on us and in so doing starts to illustrate for us just what the kingdom of heaven is, just what it means.

If the kingdom of heaven is a place, what sort of place is it?

If the kingdom of heaven is a relationship, what sort of relationship is it?

If the kingdom of heaven is a way of life, what sort of way of life is it?

If the kingdom of heaven is a choir, what sort of choir would it be?

The kingdom of heaven is first of all a place of blessing.  And it is a place of blessing now, not a place where blessing is promised only in the future.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  And the blessing is extended, far and wide.  Jesus extends the blessing not just to those who are listening, but to all, all who are poor in spirit, all who mourn, all who are meek.

The kingdom of heaven is near, it is in the present tense, it is a place of blessing now, and yet it is also a promise for the future.  There’s a recognition that change is going to come.  Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted, blessed are those who are merciful for they will receive mercy, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.  The qualities or characteristics of the kingdom of heaven, things like comfort and fulfillment and mercy, compassion, kindness, forgiveness, these are things that we get a taste of now but long for more of in the future, and God’s promise to us is that our longing we experience today for these things is good and true and will be fulfilled.

And so we get a picture of the kingdom of heaven as a place not just of blessing but of transformation.  We don’t have to be transformed to enter the kingdom of heaven; we enter the kingdom of heaven to be transformed.  To be transformed into peacemakers, into people who are meek, that is, people who are gentle with each other and walk humbly with God.  To be transformed into people who mourn not only their own losses, but who mourn the losses of others, and who mourn the injustice that we see around us.  To be transformed into people who are merciful, people who love kindness and practice compassion and forgiveness.  To be transformed into people who are pure in heart, people who strive for justice and are sincere in worship.  To be transformed into people who hunger and thirst for righteousness and learn to do justice.

You see, there is a vision here, a great vision of what we are to become, a vision of each one of us becoming the person that we were created to be.  A great vision of the future, but one that is firmly rooted in the present, firmly rooted in the intimacy of a relationship with God that requires no audition.  We need pay no price of entry.  The kingdom of heaven is near.  It is a blessing of us just as we are and a vision of what we’re to become.

And if I had to sum up that vision in a few words, I could do no better than to draw on the words of the prophet Micah that we heard in our first reading.  God’s vision for us, the vision of the Beatitudes that Jesus pronounces in today’s gospel, is this:

Do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.

Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.  It’s one of those bible verses that’s worth memorizing, worth pinning on your wall or sticking to your mirror where you’ll see it first thing every morning.

Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it.  It is a vision meant to inspire us, a rule meant to guide us.  Sometimes we’re good at it.  And yet sometimes it eludes us. In our Bible Study on Tuesday this week, someone mentioned that it sounds so simple and yet in our world today there are still problems aren’t there.  There is justice and yet there is also injustice.  There is kindness and yet unkindness persists.  That can be discouraging.  It can leave us dispirited.  In fact it can leave us feeling poor in spirit.

To which Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Amen.

Our Lives Matter: Silent Night (Advent 1, Nov 28 2010)

Advent 1, November 28 2010
Readings:  Isaiah 2:2-5; Rom 13:11-14; Mt 24:36-44

Some of you may know that for many years I used to coach my son Jonathan’s hockey team.  And one of the roles of the coach of the team is to try to motivate the players before a game.  And so as coach, you come up with various techniques to get the players up for the game, depending on what age group you’re working with.  Now this was a competitive team, and so when the boys were 15 and playing minor midget hockey, it was what was called their draft year.  At the end of the season the Junior A hockey clubs would draft the most promising of these 15 year olds.  Of course, all the boys wanted to be drafted.  And so one of the motivational techniques we sometimes used as coaches before a game would be to remind the boys that at some point during the year, the Junior A clubs would be sending scouts to our games to evaluate our players.  Nobody knew what game they would be coming to, they would just show up  unexpected.  But they might be in the stands right now, waiting to watch you play tonight.

Have you ever noticed that whenever we’re talking about the future, we’re really talking about the present?  Each of readings this morning, from Isaiah, from Paul, from Matthew, each one speaks of the future, of the days to come.  But the conclusion each time is firmly rooted in the present, in the here and now.  “Now is the moment for you to wake,” says Paul.  “Let us walk in the light of the Lord!”, exhorts Isaiah.  “You must be ready,” says Jesus.  Here.  Now.

Jesus and Isaiah in particular are both speaking to peoples who are suffering, peoples who are oppressed by enemy armies.  All is not well in their present, there is injustice, there is pain.  But the message they are given about the future is clear.  God will act.  God will judge.  God will set things right.  It was a message that would have provided comfort to those listening, at least for most of them, because of what it said about the present.  God cares about you and the things you are suffering, and you can have hope right now that in the future things will be set right.

Some of us however, myself included, we hear Isaiah talking about judgment, and Jesus talking about how one will be taken and one will be left behind, and that makes us feel uneasy.  I get a little uneasy thinking about how God will judge me at some unknown time in the future, and the possibility of punishment that is implied.  I’m much more comfortable when I get to talk to you all about God’s love and forgiveness rather than God’s judgement.

But make no mistake, the word we get in today’s gospel is that we will be judged.  At some point in the future, we don’t know when, it could be today, God will hold us accountable for the way we live our lives.

How does that make you feel?  A little nervous perhaps?  Inspired?  Motivated?  Will you go out and play a better game knowing the scouts might be in the stands?

I’d like to persuade you this morning that this word of judgement is also a word of good news.  It is good news first of all because we know that although judgement is a word of God, it is not the final word.  This first Sunday of Advent we speak of being held accountable.  Next Sunday we will speak of repentance.  In today’s gospel Jesus speaks of judgement.   Two days later, Jesus will be crucified and from that very place of judgement on the cross, he will speak words of forgiveness.

But the word of judgement is of itself good news, because the knowledge that we will be held accountable for our lives by God is a gift.  It is the gift of knowing that God cares, and that how we live our lives matters.  It is a gift that provides purpose and meaning to our lives, here and now.

You are not irrelevant.  You matter.  How you live matters.  You are part of God’s plan to set right all that is wrong in our lives and our world.

Isaiah’s vision of the future is a vision of peace.  “In the days to come, they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nations shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”

So often when we hear such a vision, there is a temptation to be overwhelmed by it.  Wars and conflicts seem so entrenched, or so far away, or so big and beyond our ability to make a difference.  It is tempting to feel that we are irrelevant, that we don’t matter.

 I imagine that many of those soldiers in the trenches in Europe in December of 1914 felt that way.  They had fully expected to be home by Christmas when they signed up for war in the summer of 1914.  As the conflict became mired in a seemingly endless stalemate of trench warfare, surely many of the soldiers became disillusioned and dared not dream of peace.

And then late on Christmas Eve, out of the darkness came the sound of one man singing Silent Night.  It was a moment of unexpected peace.  How do you respond when a moment of unexpected peace presents itself?  One by one, the English soldiers on the other side responded by joining in the singing.  Candles appeared.  An unexpected truce broke out.  The soldiers from both sides ventured into no-man’s land to exchange gifts and to bury their dead. 

As you might expect, not everyone approved of the truce.  Some thought that the fraternization with the enemy was inappropriate.  And, alas, the Christmas Eve truce was not a lasting peace.  War resumed the next morning.  It was simply a moment, a moment of hope, a foretaste of the days to come, a moment that mattered.

When a moment of unexpected peace breaks out in your life, how will you respond?  Will you be ready for it?  Will you reject it, or will you sing?  Might you even be the one who starts the singing?

This Advent, as we prepare once more for the coming of the Prince of Peace into our world, let us seek out ways to create moments of peace and embrace them whenever they present themselves, however unexpectedly.  And in this I want to be very concrete.  Look around your home, or your office, or your school or your church.  Each one of us will encounter a situation of conflict or tension or brokenness there somewhere.  You may well be caught up in it yourself.  When you encounter, or acknowledge, such a situation, seek to bring peace.  Whether it is by upholding those involved in prayer, or by offering care or hospitality, or by apologizing or forgiving, seek to create a moment of peace.  Let that be your preparation this Advent.

After all, what we do matters.  So be ready.

Amen.