Waiting For The Heavens To Be Torn Open (Advent 1, Nov 27, 2011)

Homily:  Yr B Advent 1, November 30, 2008, Huntley

Readings:  Is 64:1-9;Ps 80:1-7,16-18; 1Cor 1:3-9; Mk 13:24-37

Advent is a time of waiting.  How many of you are good at waiting?  I know that I’m not.  As a society, I think that we’re much more used to rushing around and getting what we want when we want it than we are to waiting.  Waiting can seem like such a waste of time.  And yet, Simone Weil, the French writer, once wrote that “waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life”.

“Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life.”  Our readings this morning all speak of a time of waiting, a time of waiting for God to act, a time of waiting for the divine to break into our midst like a light that pierces the darkness.  Sometimes, we think of waiting as passive, like the time we spend in the waiting lounge at the doctor’s office.  But the waiting that we engage in Advent is meant to be active, not passive.  Like the servants that wait for the master’s return, each has his work to do.  Advent waiting is meant to be a time of preparation, a time to get ready.  It is a time of longing and yearning that tests our patience.  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down” cries the prophet in our reading from Isaiah.  ‘“How long” must we wait?’ echoes the psalmist.

Advent waiting is not passive, and neither is it about waiting from a place of comfort.  It’s one thing to wait for God’s coming when we’re comfortable.  It’s quite another to have to wait for God to act from a place of darkness, a place of exile, a place of desperation.  Many of us live our lives in apparent comfort, a comfort based in part on the consumption of a disproportionate and unsustainable amount of the earth’s resources.  We live in a cocoon, well insulated by our borders and our wealth and our legal system from the quiet desperation of the lives of so many on our planet.  But in Advent our spiritual journey demands that we dig deeper.  It forces us to acknowledge the darkness that we live in and to search for a response to the great pains of our day:  hunger, poverty, addiction, oppression, violence, disease. 

  

I’m reminded of a scene from one of the more recent Superman movies.  In it, Lois Lane has written a newspaper article, asking Superman to stay away, because the world has no need of a saviour.  In response, Superman takes Lois high up into the sky where she with him can hear the voices of all those who cry out, the hungry and the sick and the oppressed and the lonely.  “You say the world has no need of a saviour,” he tells her.  “But I hear the whole world crying out for salvation.”

And so we wait, not from a place of comfort, but from a place of darkness, acknowledging the darkness in the world around us, acknowledging the darkness in our own lives.  In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus, confronted with his own imminent death, uses the apocalyptic language found in the popular literature of the day to describe our plight.  “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven.”  In the midst of this darkness, we wait in patient expectation for the coming of a saviour; we wait for the light that enters the darkness and will not be overcome.

There is a tension in our waiting.  We are poised on a knife’s edge between hope and desperation, between patience and yearning, between expectation and not knowing what to expect.  This was the situation that the people of Israel found themselves in our first reading from Isaiah.

At one time, Israel had been a mighty kingdom under Kings David and Solomon.  But in the 6^th century BC, the southern kingdom of Judah had been defeated by the Babylonian empire, and the Babylonians had destroyed Jerusalem and taken the people into exile.  It was a time of desolation, and a time of questioning.  Why has this happened?  Are we still God’s people? It was a time of waiting. 

Finally, when the people were allowed to return to Jerusalem, they found their home in ruins and the Temple devastated.  They were still oppressed.  They still felt abandoned.  And so the prophet and people turn to their God and cry out “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down”.  They called on God to stop hiding, to reveal himself and to save his people, just as he did in the days of Moses.

  

And you know what God’s response was?  We didn’t hear it in today’s reading but it follows immediately on in the 65^th chapter of the book of Isaiah.  God responds, “Hey I was here with you all along.  I was ready to be sought out, but no one asked, ready to be found, but no one looked.  I was calling out “Here I am, Here I am” but nobody noticed.

You see, the time of waiting isn’t meant simply to frustrate us, nor to push us to the edge of hope.  It’s meant to be a time of preparation, a time to get ready, a time of awakening to the spiritual dimension of our existence.  A time when we learn how to see God, so that when he does come into our midst, we don’t miss it.  Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life.

God is coming into each of our lives, indeed he’s always coming into our lives, not in some distant future, but here and now among us. But his coming will be unexpected, like a thief in the night, like a master returning from a journey.  We don’t know when, we don’t know how, we don’t know what it will look like.  But when he does come, will you see?  Will you be awake?

Isaiah called for God to tear open the heavens and come down.  Six hundred years later, Mark’s gospel tells us that when Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist, the heavens were torn open and the Spirit of God came down like a dove upon him.  There was a great crowd gathered around.

How many people do you think saw it?  Most people didn’t. They missed it.  But John saw it, John who had been waiting for the coming of the Lord, John who had spent his life preparing the way of the Lord, John who did the work given to him in his time of waiting and yearning.  He was ready; he was awake.  He saw the heavens torn open and God come down.

It’s tempting sometimes for us to think of Advent and Christmas, the waiting for and the coming of God into our midst, as events that happened in the distant past.  And while I’d be the first to agree that the birth of Jesus was a singularly special moment in history, I also believe that the waiting for and the coming of God into our lives is always happening. 

Six years ago, I was a student chaplain in the Royal Ottawa Psychiatric Hospital, trying to learn to provide spiritual care to patients with severe mental illness.  Even though it was summer, it was an Advent time in my life. In the hospital I encountered despair and darkness that I had never encountered before in the lives of many men and women, and most of the time there wasn’t much I could do to help them.  In my own life, my wife  was diagnosed with cancer and underwent surgery (successfully as it turned out).  It was a time of waiting, a time of waiting for test results, a time of waiting for patients to stop their slide into despair and to show signs of a turnaround.  It was a time of praying, of pleading with God to do something.  But it was also a time of learning, of preparation, of doing the work that I’d been given to do.

On the floor where I was working, there was a woman who spent virtually the whole day moaning in a near catatonic state.  I had yet to go into her room, afraid I guess, that I wouldn’t be able to do anything for her.  One day, for whatever reason, I decided to go into her room and I sat beside her.  I tried talking to her but that didn’t get me too far. I tried just sitting in silence.  No apparent awareness that I was there.  I was just about to give up and leave when the idea came to me that I could try humming.  So I hummed a few bars of Amazing Grace.  And to my amazement, the woman stopped moaning, straightened a bit and started singing Amazing Grace in a beautiful clear voice.

On that same day, not long after, I was walking down the hall past the room of another woman who screamed non-stop.  Again, it was someone I’d never summoned up the courage to visit.  As I walked past, the screaming was particularly loud and agitated.  One of the nurses stormed out of the room, looked at me, and said “Go in there and do something.”  So, I walked through the doorway, glanced at the name on the way in, squatted down in front of the woman and said “Hi Angie.”  And again to my amazement, she stopped screaming, looked up at me and started talking to me calmly.  We talked a bit, and then I left.

  

That evening as I was driving home from the hospital, I had an overwhelming sense of a presence descending on me, and a feeling of intense emotion that brought tears to my eyes.  Luckily I was stopped at a red light at the time.  And I was instantly aware that I hadn’t brought that measure of peace and healing to those two women. For me in that moment, the heavens were torn open and God was with me.  That was for me a key moment in my spiritual journey.

Each of us is on our own, unique spiritual journey. It may look different for each one of us, but God is coming into each one of our lives, and into our midst as a community.  We wait in patient expectation for the coming of our Lord, for the moment when God will say to us “Here I am”.  When he comes, will we be awake or asleep?  Will we be ready? 

Amen.

Sheep, Goats and Gehenna (November 20, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Reign of Christ, Nov 20 2011, St. Albans

Readings:  Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Psalm 100; Eph 1:15-23; Mt 25:31-46

Sheep, Goats and Gehenna

In our gospel today Jesus talks about the sheep and the goats.  It’s his last chance.  It’s his last public speech, not by his own choice, but because later that day he would be arrested. It’s his final attempt to get his message across.

What’s the message?

Actually, it’s hard to miss.  It’s repeated four times.  We are called, we were created, we are commanded to respond to human need with loving service.  We must feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, give clothing to the naked, care for the sick, visit those in prison.  This list is repeated in its entirety four times in today’s reading.

So why is it that so often when I hear today’s gospel, I come away from it wondering about hell.

When I look at the text, I can see that today’s gospel is about, in order of importance:

First how we are to live, that is by responding to human need with loving service.

Second, about judgement, God’s Judgement.

And third, about the consequences of that judgement, the eternal fire and punishment that we call Hell.

However when we hear the gospel, often we turn things upside down.  We focus first of all on Hell, secondly on Judgement, and by that time we may be so preoccupied that we forget to even pay attention to the main point, that is, how God wants us to live our lives.

Why is that?  I think that it’s because many of us, many of us in the church, have unresolved issues with hell.  Because this notion that God will separate out the goats and send them to the eternal fire seems to be at odds with our theology of grace, at odds with our basic Christian understanding that God is a loving God, who accepts us as we are, forgives our sins and adopts us into his family as children.  How can we reconcile these things?

There is no doubt that Jesus is using extreme language and images in this text. It is after all his final shot at it.  If this were an email, IT WOULD BE ALL CAPS.  Jesus is shouting.  This is a wake-up call.  This is Jesus the prophet from Nazareth trying desperately to get people’s attention before it’s too late.

Why is he shouting? Because when he used a nice story like the story of the Good Samaritan to try to get his message across, we didn’t get it.  Because when he modelled the behaviour that he was calling us to, by feeding the hungry, by providing water for the woman at the well, be welcoming and eating with the prostitutes and tax collectors, by healing the sick and those who were in chains, by clothing the one who was naked, we still didn’t get it.

We live in a world where people are hungry and thirsty even though there is enough food and drink for all.  We live in a world where people are intentionally marginalized and made to feel unwelcome.  We live in a world where those who are sick and in prison are often isolated and lonely.  There are times when we respond to those needs with love.  Thank God for those who do.  But there are times when we don’t.  Why?  Sometimes it’s deliberate.  Sometimes it’s because we’re afraid, because we ourselves feel vulnerable. Sometimes it’s because we’re caught up in social structures and global systems that create injustice and suffering and we just don’t know what to do.  Sometimes it’s because we fail to see the needs around us, because we’re too busy or too focused on ourselves.

And Jesus says in today’s gospel “this will not stand”.  That God will not allow it to stand.  That God has promised to put the entire world right, showing up sin for what it is, judging it and destroying it so that it no longer has the power to infect his good creation.  That when God’s kingdom comes on earth there will be no more neglect of neighbour, there will be no more failure to respond to another’s need, there will be no more doing evil and injustice to one another.

That’s why in today’s gospel, Jesus talks about judgement and hell. 

And it does get our attention, at least in part because we have unresolved issues about hell.

  

Hell is something we don’t talk about much in the church, at least in the Anglican church.  In part that is because our common notion of hell is grounded in the picture that arose in the middle ages, in the writings of Dante and others, which in turn draw on images from Greek mythology.  The most common idea about hell in our culture is that it has something to do with the after-life, that when people die, that God will sort them into two lots, and the good people will go to heaven and the bad people will go to hell, a place of damnation and eternal punishment.  And that sort of picture makes many of us really uncomfortable, uncomfortable with the notion that a loving God would let some people end up in that sort of hell. 

So I think that it’s important to go back to our scriptures, to go back to the teaching of Jesus to try to understand what he meant when he uses the word “gehenna”, the Greek word that we translate as hell.

It’s a word that Jesus doesn’t use very often, recorded just a dozen times in the New Testament. 

If you look at these texts, mostly in the gospels of Mark and Matthew, you will notice a few things.

You will notice, first of all, that in Jesus teaching, the opposite of hell is not heaven, but life.  If you look at Jesus’ sayings, they mostly say that it is better to enter life than to go to hell.  The emphasis is not on life after death, but on life, now and in the future.  Sometimes Jesus will put this slightly differently.  He will say that it is better to enter the kingdom of God than to enter hell.  But remember, the kingdom of God is something that in other places, Jesus will say “has come near” or “is in your midst”.  Again, this isn’t just about an afterlife, he seems to be talking about a life that is both present and future.

And the word that we translate as hell is also revealing.  Gehenna, the word Jesus uses, is actually a place name.  It is the Hebrew name for the Valley of Hinnom which is found on the south west side of Jerusalem.  It is the garbage dump of the city of Jerusalem, the place where garbage from the city is dumped and burned, with a fire that burns day and night.  Not only is garbage dumped there, but sewage from the city also ends up in the Valley of Hinnom.  To make matters worse, child sacrifice used to be practiced there, because of this the valley had been condemned as an evil place by prophets such as Jeremiah. 

This is the word that Jesus uses for hell.  This is the actual place that his listeners envision when Jesus refers to eternal fire in today’s gospel.  Gehenna is the valley where evil, filth and garbage are sent to be destroyed in a fire that burns day and night.  Gehenna then, is a real place, a real garbage dump, which becomes the image of what God will do to destroy all that is evil and filthy, the eternal fire which burns all the garbage that has polluted God’s good creation.

This is the New Testament image of hell.  Hell is the place of fire which burns everything that opposes what God wants for the life of his people and his good creation.

Are people oppressed by war and violence?  To hell with war and violence.

Does a little child suffer from abuse?  To hell with child abuse.

Does someone you know suffer from addiction?  To hell with addictions.

Is there neglect of neighbour in our world?  To hell with it.

To hell with all these things that oppress us and prevent us from living life as God intended us to live.  Let them burn and be destroyed.

God wants us to enter into life, life as God intended us to live, the life that Jesus called life in the kingdom of God.  It is life that we can enter into here and now, but a life that has yet to be fully realized in our world today.  It is the life in which we love one another and care for those in need.

God’s judgement is this:  anything that prevents us from living the life that God is calling us to in his kingdom will not stand.  Neglect, abuse, injustice – all are garbage and they will burn in the fires of Gehenna, which we call hell.

If there is anything that is preventing you from living life as God intended, well to hell with it.  Jesus, in a passage from Mark, using the exaggeration typical of his culture, tells his disciples, even if it’s your foot that’s the preventing you from living life as God intended, well to hell with it - but don’t you go with it.  Better for you to enter life, to enter the Kingdom of God with only one foot.

Of course, it’s not our foot that’s the problem.  It’s all that other stuff we talked about, the net of sin and abuse and neglect and injustice that we all get ourselves caught up in.  It’s that net that God will judge and send to hell for destruction, so that we can be free to enter life, to enter the kingdom of God without being all tangled up in it, without being caught in it.

God wants us to be set free from whatever it is that’s preventing us from living the life we were created to live.  That is God’s judgement.  And that to me is good news.  It’s not something to be afraid of.  But it doesn’t mean that everything will be easy.  Repentance, change, transformation, getting untangled from the net, all that may be difficult, it may be painful, we may need help.

Luckily for us, the shepherd who knows how to distinguish between sheep and goats also knows how to find lost sheep.  In fact, Jesus says, that’s why he came.

And so back to the main point:

May we learn to love others as God has loved us.

Amen.

What are you going to do with your treasure? (Nov 13, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A P33, Nov 13 2011, St. Albans

Readings:  Judges 4:1-7, Ps 123; 1 Thess 5:1-11; Mt 25:14-30

What are you going to do with your treasure?

What would you do if someone handed you $5 million?  In the parable that we just heard, that’s the amount that’s entrusted to the first slave, when we translate it into our currency.  That’s a lot of money.  Interestingly enough, this same parable is found in the gospel of Luke with much smaller amounts of money, but in Matthew’s version he’s cranked it up.  The amounts involved have increased dramatically.  Matthew wants to make sure we get the point.  But what point?

What would you do if someone walked up to you and cut you a cheque for $5 million dollars, and said I’m going away for a while, look after this for me while I’m gone?

It’s a fortune.  It’s a sum that’s extremely valuable.  It’s enough to buy a mansion, a fancy car, and still have a guaranteed pension and spending money left over.  That much money is not only valuable but it’s also extremely powerful.  You’d have the power to hire people, to buy a company, to start a business.

What would you do with it?

I suppose it might depend on what you thought the master intended when he entrusted the money to you.  At the time when Jesus told this parable, there was a rabbinic tradition that commended burial as a way of safeguarding money.  There were no banks backed by government issued deposit insurance in those days.  So burying those gold coins in the ground made a lot of sense, especially if you were entrusted with safeguarding someone else’s fortune.

The third slave decided to bury the $1 million that he had been given.  Apparently that was the wrong decision.  He ends up in the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

It seems that the master entrusted the money to the three slaves not for the purpose of safeguarding, but rather for the purpose of doing business.  But what sort of business are we talking about?

  

I don’t think this parable has anything to do with money.  And I don’t think that it has anything to do with talents, our gifts and aptitudes, even though it has often been interpreted that way.

In order to understand this parable, we need to figure out what it is that the $5 million dollars represents.  What have you and I been entrusted with that is valuable and powerful beyond all expectation?

Matthew gives us a clue in the text.  And that clue is the word which we translated as entrusted.  The master entrusted his property to the slaves.  In Greek the word is “paradoken”, meaning literally “handed over”.  But in the Jewish context of the first century, paradoken was a technical term for the handing over of the “tradition”, that is the Law and the Prophets, the Jewish religious tradition from one generation to the next.

For Matthew, that huge treasure of $5 million dollars can mean only one thing:  the good news of what God has done for us in Jesus.  This is our treasure, this is the gospel of extreme value that has been entrusted to us.  It’s this gospel which is so powerful, so powerful that Paul writes in his letter to the Romans that the gospel is power of God for salvation.

This is the treasure that has been handed over to us.  We have been entrusted with the gospel of God’s grace, recorded in our scriptures and tradition, lived out in our community in relationship with God and with God’s Spirit in our midst.  God has chosen us and loves us and adopts us as his children.  This is the gift that we’ve been entrusted with.

So what should we do with it?

Should we keep it safe, protect it, hide it in a hole in the ground?

Or, should we go out and be entrepreneurs and double our money?

Some of you are still young and single, and go on dates from time to time, and so I want you to imagine yourselves in this scenario.  Imagine that you’re dating this man or woman, and things are going well, and you kind of like this person and want things to go somewhere.

Then one evening when you’re out having dinner in this romantic spot, it finally happens.  You’re date tells you that he or she loves you and that he or she will always love you.

How are you to respond?  Well suppose you respond as follows:  suppose you said to your date,

“That’s awesome.  Could you please put that in writing?”  And you whip out a pen and paper and make your date write down what he or she just said.  Then you write down your response, saying that you also love him or her, and then you drag your bewildered date off to the notary public office, have the declarations notarized and stamped, then rush to the bank and put them in the deposit box for safekeeping.  Finally, you turn to your date, and say, “this has been a wonderful evening, goodbye,” and you turn and return home on your own. 

Sharing the story with your roommate later that evening, your roommate waits until you’ve finished speaking, and then says, “I think you missed the point”.

If we receive the treasure of the gospel, the treasure of God’s grace, God’s love for us, and we bury it for safekeeping, we’ve missed the point.

But so often isn’t that what we do?

We are children of the Enlightenment, and as part of that heritage, we have over the last three hundred years turned our faith largely into a matter of intellectual assent.  It’s what we believe, the same way as we believe that 2 + 2 = 4.  And in so doing, we have, like the third slave, buried our treasure and missed the point.  Good news is not to be recorded, it’s not supposed to be turned into dogma, it is to be proclaimed.  Grace, God’s love for us, is not to be duly noted, it is to be received and in turn poured out to those around us.

Let me tell you another story, a true story this time, of two Jewish communities which existed in the second half of the first century AD.  The first is the community of Matthew, likely located in Antioch, the community out of which the Gospel of Matthew which we read this morning was written and proclaimed.  The second community is the community of the Didache, also a community of Jewish Christians.  Both of these communities received the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  But the community of the Didache took what they received, took what had been handed over to them and built walls around it.  They drew up boundaries of identity.  They were fearful of outsiders who might change or dilute the tradition.  They wanted to preserve the Jewish traditions, the dietary laws, circumcision and so on.

Matthew’s community, on the other hand, took what had been entrusted with them and they shared it with the non-Jewish world.  They removed the requirement for circumcision, changed the dietary laws, moved the day of worship from Saturday to Sunday.  All of these were risky things to do in a Jewish community back in the first century.  They were persecuted for it, kicked out of the synagogue.  But Matthew’s community was a community of good and faithful servants.  Theirs was a living tradition.  They had received the grace of God and they were so excited by it that they wanted to pour out that grace to the gentile world around them, and so they took risks and lived lives of faith and they doubled, and tripled and quadrupled their money.  The result of these two different approaches?  The community of the Didache has disappeared, and its text the Didache is read on an occasional basis by a handful of academics and students of history and theology.  And Matthew’s community?  It’s going strong. We are the descendants of Matthew’s community, and their text, the Gospel of Matthew was read by billions of people around the world just this morning. 

We have been entrusted with the most valuable and most powerful treasure in all the universe, the gospel of Jesus Christ which proclaims God’s love for us.

What are we going to do with it?

Are we going to give it our intellectual assent and then store it in a safe place somewhere?

Are we going to hide it in the ground out of fear that we may lose it, or build walls around it to protect it and keep it safe?

Or will we be good and faithful servants?  Will we take this treasure that we’ve been given and get to work, proclaiming the good news, taking risks, manifesting God’s grace to those we meet, grabbing hold of our treasure with an entrepreneurial spirit and doing business with it?

Will we take our treasure in our hands and use it, share it, invest it, and be creative with it?  How will we release the power of the gospel to do its work in our community, in our neighbourhood, in our city?  Will we double our money?  Triple it?  Quadruple it?

Do you know what a treasure you have been entrusted with?  And what are you going to do with it, good and faithful servant?

Amen.

Occupy Jerusalem (Oct 16, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 29, October 16 2011, St. Albans

Readings:  Ex 33:12-23; Ps 99; 1 Thess 1:1-10; Mt 22:15-22

Occupy Jerusalem

Anyone have a coin?  Come on up here for a second.

(hold up coin)  Can anyone tell me whose image is this?  (Answer:  Queen Elizabeth)  That’s right, it’s the Queen, the head of state, our Caesar if you like, at least symbolically.

Now, can anyone tell me whose image is this?  (gesturing to Jill, who is standing beside me)

Not sure whose image this is?  Let me read to you from the book of Genesis:

‘Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.”  So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.’

Jill is God’s image.  You are God’s image and you and you.  Each of us.

Caesar’s image (holding up coin).  God’s image (gesturing to Jill).

Jesus said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s; give to God what is God’s.”

It is one of Jesus’ most memorable lines.  “Return to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and return to God what is God’s”.  But what does it mean?  Yesterday hundreds of people met in Confederation Park to launch Occupy Ottawa.  They too were wrestling with what it means to “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to give to God what is God’s”.

At one level this is about money.  After all, Jesus’ words are spoken in response to a question about taxes.  But if we dig a little deeper we’ll find out that there is much more to this than just finances.

The exchange in today’s gospel is set in the Temple in Jerusalem.

The previous day, Jesus had occupied the Temple.  He drove out the buyers and the sellers, he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and he declared “My house shall be called a house of prayer; but you are making it a den of robbers.”  This was the last straw for the religious authorities.  From that point on they are actively seeking a way to arrest Jesus.  So today’s exchange between Jesus and the authorities about taxes and money has to be understood in the context of what happened the day before.

When Jesus said “My house shall be called a house of prayer” he was quoting the 56^th chapter of the Book of Isaiah.  If you read that chapter, you will see that the LORD through his prophet Isaiah is calling for people to maintain justice and do what is right.  He is calling for the inclusion of all peoples, including foreigners, including those who have been marginalized and oppressed, he’s calling for all to be included in God’s house of prayer.  It is a radical call for justice and inclusivity.

When Jesus then says “but you have made it a den of robbers” he is quoting the 7^th chapter of Jeremiah.  Again, if you were to turn to that text, you will find that it is a call for repentance, a call for the people to amend their ways and return to God.  It is a call to end the oppression of the widow, the orphan and the outcast. I is a call to return to acting justly, for this is what God requires of those who seek to worship in his Temple.

And so the whole system of money changing in the temple that Jesus reacts against in anger is symbolic of the oppression of the powerless, the exclusion of the marginalized and the wrongheaded priorities of those who think they are worshipping and offering prayer to God, but in reality are making God angry because of their complicity in systemic injustice.  To restore the Temple as a house of prayer, the people will have to return to God by acting to restore justice and end oppression.

This is why Jesus occupied the Temple.  This is the context in which the Pharisees try to trap Jesus by asking him whether it is lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not.  They challenge him with the number one political and economic question of the day.  The Jewish people bitterly resented the tax imposed on them by the Roman empire.  If Jesus answered in favour of the tax, many of them would turn against him.  But if he publically opposed the tax, he risked arrest by the Roman authorities for inciting rebellion. 

How does he respond?  First, he reveals his accusers for what they are, that is hypocrites.  They’re not interested in his response; they’re only trying to entrap him.  Then, he asks to see the coin that is used to pay the tax.

Now, we need a bit of background about coins here.  In Jesus time, there were two types of coins.  There were copper coins worth a few cents that were issued locally and used by the common people, and there were silver coins that were worth a day’s wages and were issued by the Roman Empire.  The Roman coins were resented by the Jewish people for multiple reasons.  They were resented  first of all because they were a symbol of oppression.  But even more so, they were resented because they were a violation the God’s Law, the Torah:  they had a graven image of Caesar on them, violating the second of the ten commandments, and the inscription on them referred to Caesar as divine, as the ‘Son of God’, in violation of the first commandment.  To an observant Jew, it was repugnant for these silver coins that violated God’s law to be brought into the Temple.

But we are in the Temple, and when Jesus asks to see the silver coin that’s used to pay the tax, guess who produces it?  It’s his accusers who produce the offensive coin with the head of the emperor engraved on it.  By that simple gesture, by producing the coin, Jesus’ accusers unwittingly confirm that they are the ones who are complicit in the system of money changing, that symbol of oppression and exclusion and wrongheaded priorities. 

If this had been a debate, Jesus would have won the moment that coin was produced.  He didn’t have to go on to answer the question, his accusers had already been exposed.  But he does answer the question.  He chooses to engage in the hottest political topic of the day.  And his answer takes on new meaning for us:

“Return to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s”

Return to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s.  Take that coin that is an affront to God’s Law and get it out of the Temple area.  Give up your wrongheaded priorities, end your complicity in this system of injustice.  Stop exploiting the poor, stop marginalizing the outcasts with your laws and your sale of sacrificial animals for profit.  All this needs to be returned, given up. 

And all you who listen, repent and return to God.   You were made in God’s image not Caesar’s.  You belong to God, you and all that you are and all that you possess.  So strive for justice, do what is right.  Stand up for the poor and the powerless and end their oppression.  Stop excluding people, stand up for inclusion, work for the good of all people, especially those who are marginalized in our society.  For it is by doing these things that you offer prayer and worship to God, and our community becomes a house of prayer rather than a den of robbers.

Return to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s.  And return to God the things that are of God.

Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s.

Some people have tried to make this saying into a justification for the separation of church and state, the sacred and the secular, but that would be a misinterpretation.

Jesus is inviting us – no, actually, he is demanding - that we should be thinking always and vigorously about how all our decisions – what we buy, how we vote, how we use our time – how are all of these decisions shaped by our faith that the whole world is God’s and that we, and all people are made in God’s image.

How does that play out in our lives?  Does your faith inform your economic decisions?  Does the gospel shape your priorities, does it shape how you spend your time, how you voted in the election two weeks ago?

Jesus engaged with the number one political question of his day.  Right now the number one political question of our day, inspired by the Occupy Wall Street movement, and now the Occupy Ottawa movement, seems to be this:  “Is it just that a small minority of the population benefits from a disproportionate amount of income, wealth and power.”  Is it just that 1% of the population controls, in the case of the US, 35%, of all wealth?  Here in Canada, is it just that 1% of the Canadian population receives 14% of all income, double what it was a generation ago?  And globally, is it just that the richest 10% of the world’s population, which includes most Canadians, controls 85% of global assets.  And if these things are not just, what are we going to do about it?

Jesus says, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s”.

To be honest, I’m not sure that I know what that means in our current context.  I think that Jesus is calling us to repentance, to act justly, to end oppression, to reach out to those at the margins. 

What do you think?  What does it mean for us today to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to give to God what is God’s?

Amen.

This is who we are (October 2 2011)

Homily:  Yr A P27, October 2 2011, St. Albans

Readings:  Ex 20:1-4,7-9,12-20; Ps 19; Phil 3:4b-14; Mt 21:33-46

“This is who we are”

I love Psalm 19, the psalm that we read together today.

“The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament shows his handiwork;

One day tells its tale to another and one night imparts knowledge to another.”

I get that.  I’ve experienced the glory of God in creation.  I’ve looked up at the stars on a clear, dark night, and felt awe and wonder.  I’ve had those “wow” moments when I watched the sunset, or the wind blowing through the trees, and I’ve said to myself that there must be a God.

“Although they have no words or language, and their voices are not heard,

their sound has gone out into all lands, and their message to the ends of the world.”

I get the first half of Psalm 19.

But I don’t get the second half.  The first half is an ode to creation, to the glory of God expressed and revealed through creation.

The second half is an ode to the law.

“The law of the Lord is perfect and revives the soul.”

“It rejoices the heart, it gives light to the eyes.”

“It is more to be desired than gold, much more than fine gold,

sweeter far than honey, than honey in the comb.”

What’s that all about?

Think about it.  Our governments pass laws all the time.  When was the last time that you heard a poem or a love song being sung about a piece of legislation passed by the Canadian government?

Where does this psalmist’s love affair with the law come from?

In our first reading today from Exodus we heard what are usually called the Ten Commandments, or the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai. We usually think of these words as a moral code, as a set of laws given to the people of Israel by God to govern their behaviour.   That’s why we tend to call them Commandments”, though the Hebrew text actually calls them the “Ten Words” of God.  And certainly these words can and do serve as the basis for moral and legal codes.  Not only did they serve as the basis for the legal code of ancient Israel, but they still inform our justice system in Canada today.

But these words are not simply a legal code.

This fall I took my son Jonathan to Queen’s for the start of his university education, and in the process, I took a bit of a stroll down memory lane, remembering when I first went to Queen’s some 30 years ago.  And one memory in particular struck me.  I remember one evening as 17 year old, walking along the shores of Lake Ontario, having just left family and friends behind in Ottawa, in the process of making new friends, and starting on a new path in life.  And I distinctly remember thinking “I can be anybody I want to be”.  I was no longer defined by my past, I no longer had to live up to the expectations of my parents or my high school or my home town.  Nobody even knew my back story anymore, except what I wanted to tell them.  It was a moment of tremendous freedom.

The people of Israel were at that sort of a crossroads in today’s reading.  They had been for generations slaves in Egypts.  That was who they had been, that had been their identity, that’s what had defined them.  But that past was gone.  They had been brought out of slavery in Egypt.  They had crossed the Red Sea.  The waters had closed behind them and there was no going back.  They were no longer slaves, they were free, but who were they to be?  If we’re no longer captive to our past, what is to be our future?

And God speaks.  Just as God spoke in the beginning to create the heavens and the earth, in today’s text, God speaks in the wilderness of Sinai to create a people.  He offers the people of Israel a covenant, a deal, an agreement between God and Israel which would establish a new relationship between God and the people.  And in its simplest terms, the new relationship on offer boils down to this:  “I will be your God, and you will be my people.”

But what does it mean to be God’s people?  In order for the people to understand, something more had to be expressed.  And so what God spoke were the “Ten Words” that we heard this morning. 

Then God spoke all these words:  “I am the Lord your God, the one who brought you out of slavery in Egypt.”  And this is who you are, this what it means for you to be my people.  You are a people who shall have no other gods before me.  You shall not make for yourself idols.  You shall not make wrongful use of my name, you shall remember the sabbath and keep it holy.  You shall honour your parents, and you shall not murder, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness against your neighbour nor covet anything that is your neighbour’s.

These words of God certainly can be used and have been used to generate moral and legal codes, nothing wrong with that.  But their primary function is not ethical.  The primary function of the ten commandments is to answer the question of identity.  The question is who are we as a people, as a community?  And the answer?  We are God’s people, and this is how we express that in our lives.  We are a community of commitment to God and compassion to our neighbour.  That is who we are, that is who we are called to be, that is what we intend to be, that is what it means to be the people of God.

This is God’s proposal:  I will be your God and you will be my people.  The Ten Commandments are all about that relationship, and our response to the gift of that relationship.  Yes, we respond, you will be our God, and we will live into that by having no other gods, by not making idols, by not using your name wrongfully and by remembering the sabbath.  Yes, we respond, we will be your people, and we will live into that by honouring our parents, and by not murdering, committing adultery, stealing, lying or coveting.  And in so doing, we will be what you called us to be, a community that is a blessing to all peoples and a light to the world.

The covenant with God and the Torah which gave it expression established Israel as the people of God and gave them the gift of identity and purpose in their communal life.  It completed that transformation from being slaves in Egypt to being a new community living in freedom as the people of God, living in relationship with God.  And that’s why it was such a delight, that’s why the psalmist is able to sing in today’s psalm that the law of the Lord is more to be desired than fine gold, and sweeter far than honey.  It is a love song.

But it’s easy to forget who we are.  Sometimes we lose sight of our identity as the people of God, sometimes we forget that our purpose is to love God and to love our neighbour.  And when that happens, sometimes all we have left is the legal code.  I think that’s at least part of what Paul’s getting at in today’s reading from Philippians.

And how about today’s gospel, Jesus parable of the landowner who planted a vineyard and leased it to tenants?  It seems to me that the fundamental problem with the tenants in the parable that we heard today is that they’ve forgotten who they are.

The image of the vineyard and the one who planted it is used throughout the Old Testament as an image of the relationship between God and his people.  Hear for example this song from the book of Isaiah:

“Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard.  My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.  He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines.”

Isaiah’s image of the vineyard is set as a love song.  It is the image of a people in love with their God.

But in Jesus parable they’ve forgotten that this is a love song.  The relationship between tenant and landowner has been reduced to an economic arrangement, and a power struggle and competing interests.  The fundamental problem, underlying the greed and the beatings and the murder, is that the tenants have forgotten who they are.  They are the ones who are loved by the landowner and are to love the landowner in return.

You’ll notice that the landowner in Jesus parable hasn’t forgotten.  That landowner is so steadfast in his love for the tenants that he seems to have lost his senses.  Sending a second contingent of slaves after the first had been beaten doesn’t seem all that sensible to me.  And then sending his son after that seems to be nothing more than craziness on the landowner’s part.

But is that how far God is willing to go to remind us of who we are, to recall us to who we are.  Even when we seem to have lost our sense of identity, even when we’ve lost track of the meaning and purpose of our lives, even when we rebel and cause harm, God is willing to come to us and remind us of who we are and what we are for.

You are my precious vineyard.  You are my beloved, my chosen people, the ones that I have called to live lives of compassion, to be a blessing to others and to be a light to the world.

I will be your God, and you will be my people.

Amen.

"It's not fair" (Sept 18, 2011)

Homily:  Yr A Proper 25, Sept 18 2011, St. Albans

Readings:  Exodus 16:2-15; Ps 105:1-6, 37-45; Phil 1:21-30; Mt 20:1-16

“It’s not fair”

Humans, it seems, are born with an innate sense of fairness.  It never ceases to astonish me how quick children are to have a sense of what’s fair and what’s not.  In fact, after children have learned to say their first words, mama and dada and so on, sometimes it seems like the first sentence that comes out of their mouths is “it’s not fair.”  Especially if they have brothers or sisters. 

I have a younger brother.  And when we were kids, because he was younger, he had certain privileges.  I imagine I had privileges too, but I’ve forgotten what my privileges were.  But I sure remember his privileges.  Like if there were two pieces of cake, he used to get to pick first.  That’s not fair is it?  I knew it wasn’t fair, and so I came up with my own strategy.  If he was going to get to pick first, then I was going to do the dividing.  And believe me, I developed as a young child the rare talent of being able to take the most irregular piece of cake you could find, and cut it into two pieces so evenly that it was impossible to detect a difference in size with the naked eye.  Because that was the only way to make things fair.

And like so many things in our human nature, our innate sense of fairness can develop into something good, or it can develop into something which is not so good as we get older.  If, as we grow and mature, our sense of fairness can be directed towards the well-being of others, it becomes the foundation of justice, and striving after justice in our world is a very good thing.

However.  If our primary concern about fairness remains at the level of what I judge to be fair for me, if our drive for fairness remains captive to ego and self-concern, if we continue to be outraged if someone else’s piece of cake, or house, or salary or whatever is bigger than mine, then we have a problem. 

“The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire labourers for his vineyard.”

  

The first concern of the day labourers in Jesus parable is to get hired for the day.  If you were hired you could return home that night and feed your family.  If you weren’t hired, you couldn’t.  Being a labourer in Jesus day was tough.  It meant that you didn’t have land of your own to work.  There were more workers than there was work.  Some days you wouldn’t get hired.  So you can imagine the sense of relief and even of joy that those first labourers experienced when they went to the usual place in the market and were hired early in the morning by the land owner.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire labourers for his vineyard”

 It turns out this landowner is a bit unusual.  Because he returns to the marketplace later in the day, and hires more workers, and he does it again, and finally, at five o’clock in the afternoon, with just one more hour left in the work day, he returns to the market one last time. Still waiting there is one last group of dejected, anxious, unemployed workers.  They’ve been waiting all day in the marketplace, hoping for work, even though they must have known by late afternoon that it was now too late.  But on this day it’s not too late.  The landowner hires them, every single last one of them, to work in his vineyard.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who returns at 5 o’clock to hire labourers for his vineyard.”

At the end of the day, surely to their astonishment, those who were hired at 5 pm are paid a full day’s wage by the landowner.

And those who have worked a full day, and have yet to be paid, well, they’re watching pretty closely.  They start to do their calculations.  They should get paid more, after all, they’ve worked twelve times more hours than the latecomers.

The landowner calls them forward at last and he pays them the same wage, the usual daily wage.  And what do they do?  They grumble.  They complain.  They cry out “it’s not fair!”

And those of us who listen to the story, we get it, don’t we?  We can all put ourselves in the place of those labourers, we’ve all been in similar situations.  All of us at various times in our lives have cried out “it’s not fair”.

When I graduated from Engineering in 1984, it was the tail end of the recession.  There were 31 people in my graduating class, 29 men and 2 women.  The unemployment rate in Canada was over 12%, the highest level since the Great Depression of the 1930’s.  It was tough to get a job.  In fact of the 31 people in my class, only two graduates landed a job.  The two women.  “It’s not fair” cried out all the men.

And yet, wasn’t it great that Karen and Jennifer had found good jobs upon graduation?  And wasn’t it true that we were, all of us, a privileged bunch?  We had just received a wonderful education.  Many of us ended up going to grad school, and went on to interesting, well-paying jobs.  We had many, many things for which to be grateful.  And yet sometimes, instead of focusing on the good stuff and giving thanks to God for all the gifts that we’ve been given, our preoccupation with what’s fair for us can lead us to focus on what we don’t have, and we grumble, and we complain, and we are envious and we are resentful.

I want you to try something this morning.  I want each of you to take two of these small cards, and to get yourself a pencil.  If you don’t have the cards or pencils, you can get one from the people coming around.

Now I want you to do the following.

On one card, write “Gratitude” at the top.  On that card, I want you to write down some things that you are grateful for today, things in your life, or in the life of someone else.  Go ahead.

(pause)

Now on the other card, write “Resentment” on the top.  On this second card, I want you to write down things that you are resentful about, or that make you envious, or cause you to grumble.  Something that makes you want to say “it’s not fair”.  Don’t worry, nobody else is going to read this, it’s just for you, so be honest.  This one might be a bit harder for some of us, because sometimes we don’t like to admit our resentments to ourselves.

(give some time)

Ok, so now we each have two cards, a gratitude card and a resentment card.  Most of the time we carry both of these around with us.  If you take one in each hand, you’ll find that they weigh about the same, don’t they?  But that’s only their physical weight.  Because emotionally, socially, relationally, spiritually, their weight is completely different.

This one, resentment, is like having an anchor around your neck.  Like having your feet cast in concrete or a ball and chain around your ankle.  It will bring you down.  It will eat away at you.  It will make you blind.  It will screw up your sense of judgement.  If you suppress it, it will become depression.  If you indulge it, it will become anger.  That’s resentment.

This one, gratitude, on the other hand, is the very opposite.  It will lift you up.  It will give you wings.  You don’t have to take my word for it.  Major research studies over the past five years have shown that gratitude practiced daily can do the following:  it will enable you to sleep better and have more energy in just three weeks.  It can reduce your risk of depression, anxiety disorders and eating disorders.  It will help you better manage stress, boost your immune system and increase your overall health.  And, it will increase your usual level of happiness by 25% and increase your overall vitality and life-satisfaction!  That’s gratitude.

You have a choice to make.  You have a way of life to practice.  When you look at your life, do you count your blessings or your misfortunes?  Do we pay attention to the areas of plenty in our lives, or to those things that we lack?  You have two cards in your hands.  Don’t carry both of these cards around with you.  Someone will be coming back around with a garbage basket, and I want you to make a choice.  You have two cards in your hand, Gratitude and Resentment.  Choose to keep one of your cards, and let go of the other.

The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire labourers for his vineyard.  In Jesus’ parable, the landowner acts with a generosity that transcends, even offends, human standards of fairness.  May we respond not with resentment but with gratitude and thanksgiving.

Amen.