(Sermon by Leonel Abaroa Boloña at Church of the Ascension, Hamilton, Ontario, on Sunday, August 28, 2016. Texts: Jeremiah 2.4-13; Psalm 81; Hebrews 13.1-8, 15-16; Luke 14.1, 7-14)
Good morning, my friends. It is always good to be here.
Have you ever come close to overdosing on caffeine? Not even for the sake of the Gospel? I will get to that story in a moment.
This morning I want to reflect with you about hospitality, both as it is addressed in our readings for today, and its place in our life as the Church even here in this place.
‘Hospitality’ has, of course, a rather immediate ring to it. Regardless of our religious persuasion, most of us would agree, I believe, that it is a good thing to be hospitable to others, that if necessary it is a good thing to open our homes, our hearts, our churches, and even our country, to others in need of, well, hospitality.
I remember a couple of years I spent serving three small communities in the province of Matanzas, a province just east of Havana, Cuba. These were the nineties, a very harsh time for the Cuban economy, special period and all. There was very little to be had.
So when you visited a home, instead of the cake, juice, or cookies and coffee you could have expected five years before, you were offered ‘just’ coffee.
And to make up for the perceived lacking in this offering, folks would offer you a half-full glass of good, thick, Cuban coffee.
Drinking that much coffee, of course, made for a good long visit, because there is no way you can gulp down that much expresso in less than thirty minutes or so.
Yes, half an hour, because once you were finished with that one visit, of course, you went to the next house down the road, where you were welcomed and brought in and made comfortable and promptly offered… another half full glass of good, thick, Cuba coffee.
Yes, hospitality is often exuberant, and so it should, because, again, regardless of one’s religious persuasion or lack thereof, hospitality essentially seeks to convey our humanity and offers our own place, our own comfort and well-being, to those who wander.
Hospitality has also been a persistent concern of the Christian church, everywhere and at all times, both because of the biblical witness, and the basics of the faith.
There are many passages in the Bible concerning hospitality.
From Abraham, who welcomed what turned out to be three angels of God, to the Deuteronomy, where the sojourner is listed together with the widow, the orphan and the poor, as those to be taken care of by Israel.
In the New Testament, the mission and ministry of Jesus is presented as addressed, first, to those without a home. Tax collectors, poor and unlettered fishermen, demoniacs, Samaritans and women of censured behavior alike.
They were all visited by Jesus, they were somehow made hospitable to that visitation, and at the same time, they found in Jesus an hospitable place and a welcoming friend and savior, and they were changed forever through that experience. Some of these are our apostles and earliest saints of the faith whose depiction we admire, for example, in these windows, and whose examples we endeavor to follow.
The New Testament texts concerning hospitality teach us, in different ways, about the social importance and even sacramental nature of our practice of hospitality, as in the case of our Epistle for today, and capitalize on our immediate understanding of ‘hospitality’ as means for leading us into even greater truths, as in the case of the Gospel for today.
At first reading, one might think that in this passage from Luke, Jesus is just offering good, common-sense advice.
This is, don’t bring yourself too high up, because gravity may catch up with your lack of humility. And that is by itself a very fine teaching.
But as soon as we hit the second half of this lesson, where Jesus addresses the ‘guest-list’ which every God-fearing person should have, we can see how Jesus has been using a double meaning.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus repeatedly conflates his preaching of the here-and-now with that of the end times, and more specifically so with the preaching of the reign of God.
And in this passage, Jesus is asking his listeners, and asking us all to embrace that which the reign of God will look like, even in the way in which they and we ourselves imagine and endeavor to live out our relationships: compassion.
Compassion, which is not the patronizing pity for others, but the deliberate, hopeful embrace of the other. An embrace which shows both concern for the here and now, and the confident pursuing of that perfect justice and commonwealth of the reign of God. A compassionate embrace which witnesses to our concern for both the here and now, and eternity.
The Epistle lesson for today picks up just were we left Hebrews last week, with the writer quoting from Deuteronomy, “Our God is a consuming fire”.
Today, the writer moves onto sharing some very basic instructions for Christians in our life of community. And I want to suggest that all these instructions somehow relate to our being hospitable to one another.
Hospitality is, no doubt, one of those almost sacramental habits we can all embrace. In welcoming the stranger, in hosting the needy, in embracing those who need us, we are conveying far more than just the satisfaction of a particular need.
We could say that hospitality, and particularly so religiously-inspired hospitality, Christian hospitality, yes, has a lot to do with good manners and so forth, but far more with a regular reflection upon and practice of that vocation to which we are called after the example of God in Christ.
Christ, who makes Himself our home, who draws us in and welcomes us all to His presence, be it in the sacraments, in the wider Creation, in our neighbor, and particularly so, in that neighbor who would otherwise not be accounted for as a child of God.
We believe, and fundamentally so, that in the mystery and experience of the Incarnation, God has made our humanity a hospitable place for the divine presence to inhabit. As Christians, we believe that God made himself home in our humanity, in Jesus the Christ, for the sake of our own salvation, through the work of the Holy Spirit, because of the divine, relentless love for the world.
In that same vein, we believe that Jesus the Christ, throughout His earthly ministry, followed suit and made himself home in the concrete reality of his time and place, but particularly so in that concrete reality of those around him who were otherwise not accounted for. We believe that the Church is in the world for the purpose of witnessing to the salvation of God in Jesus, and to serve others in His Name.
At this church of the Ascension, we witness to that love of God in a variety of ways. We do this as we gather for worship, or visit the sick and home-bound, feed the hungry and host the needy, on behalf of the whole congregation, the church, and Christ himself. So many of you are, one way or another, vitally engaged in this and that ministry, on behalf of the whole congregation, the church, and the Lord himself.
In both our witness and our service, it is Christ who makes a home for the sake of those to whom we witness and serve.
In the same way you and I approach the bread and the cup as the sacramental body and blood of Christ, we are called to discern Christ in those to whom we witness and serve. And especially so for those who are, in fact, in need of a home.
We offer, yes, coffee, in reasonable amounts, but more importantly, we can offer the life of a community that we have been ourselves welcomed into, a space we have been entrusted, a parish legacy we have received, for the sake and benefit of others who might come here to be met by Christ, to be served, and to serve.
Not neglecting to do good, but sharing what we have.
Our community has experienced with different forms of ministries of hospitality. Many have flourished, others not so much. But I want to suggest that these ministries are as vital part of our being a church as these very worship services.
So I want to leave you and us all with that question to think about. If Jesus meets His Church in those who are seeking a home, be it an actual home, brick and plaster, or a spiritual home, friends and nourishment -let us be open to be question of where is Jesus to be found next, where is Jesus to be met, so we may welcome him, her, them?
Amen.
(Sermon preached by Bishop Terry Brown at Church of the Ascension, Hamilton, Ontario, on Sunday, August 21, 2016. Texts: Hebrews 12: 18-29 and Luke 13: 22-30.)
Last week, as part of my birthday celebrations, a church historian friend visiting from Australia and I visited the special exhibition entitled “Tattoos: Ritual, Identity, Obsession, Art” at the Royal Ontario Museum. Personally, I have never much been interested in getting a tattoo, being of the age that connects them with sailors, lowlife criminals and infections gone wrong; and I do not like pain. However, tattoos are very popular in South Pacific societies and are often a mark of cultural identity, something that many early missionaries did not appreciate. I have many Solomon Islands and South Pacific friends with tattoos.
Tattoos have even had a small positive role in Christian history: Ethiopian Orthodox Christians tattoo crosses on their foreheads as a sign of identity and pilgrims to Jerusalem in the Middle Ages sometimes got a tattoo of the holy sites there to mark the accomplishment.
Recently tattoos have become much more socially acceptable, whether as a sign of identity or body art or the permanence of a relationship. [Does anyone here want to own up to having a tattoo?] As we were walking around the exhibition, my friend and I began to talk about writing an article on the significance of tattoos for Anglicans. (Anglican church historians always think about writing articles.) He remembered the first Anglican bishop’s wife in Australia to have tattoos and I thought of a church in Michigan (not Anglican) that provides free “Christian tattoos” to its members. We vowed to go home and google “Anglican tattoos” – and there they are, looking rather like our processional cross. However, somehow, I think I would not get very far if I suggested we invite an Anglican tattoo artist to come to give free Anglican tattoos in in the chapel. On second thought, I’ll give this suggestion to our Fundraising Committee.
It was a fascinating exhibition and I recommend it. At the very end of it, I was struck almost speechless in fascination with a film of a Buddhist tattoo festival in Thailand. Men came to the temple to have the tattoo of a powerful animal spirit engraved on their bodies (perhaps a tiger or a snake or an eagle) and then were prayed over by a monk that they would take on the powers of the tattooed animal: bravery, cleverness, aggression, adventure, or whatever. The film then fast forwarded to an annual festival in which hundreds of tattooed devotees quietly sat in the courtyard of the temple, being prayed over and sprinkled (and, indeed, fire-hosed) with holy water. Suddenly, one after another, the devotees would stand up and become the tiger or snake or eagle of their tattoo, wildly lunging forward to the monks’ platform, rolling on the ground, attacking others, until they were exhausted and collapsed. The narrator explained that it was a service of renewal of the spiritual tattoos: that having become the tiger or snake or eagle for this one day of the year, they would be energized with the power of their tattoos for the year ahead. I called my friend over to watch the film. He commented, “It doesn’t look very Anglican”.
I have been thinking about that film in the last few days and wondering what would be the Anglican (or Christian) equivalent? What would be the service of renewal that would enliven the marks of our Christian faith? Indeed, what are those marks?
The marks are the waters of Baptism, the sign of the Cross on our foreheads, episcopal hands representing millennia of Christian faith placed on our heads and, for some, rings (whether as signs of marriage, episcopal ordination or the consecrated religious life). The signs come from both Scripture and tradition.
How do these signs come alive for us and how are they renewed?
For Christians, any true Christian sign points us back to God’s grace, God’s free gift of love in Jesus Christ. We cannot quite say the signs themselves come to life and bring us renewal. It is God who gives us life and renewal day by day through our participation in the life of the church, including these signs.
We do have other signs (or sacraments) that attempt to bring us to renewal: the renewal of baptismal, ordination and marriage promises, participation in the Eucharist, anointing for healing, confession. We encounter God in word and sacrament and are brought to ongoing renewal through God’s grace.
In these signs of renewal, it is always God’s grace that is primary. What helps is our receptivity, our openness, to God’s love in our lives. While some Pentecostal traditions include ecstatic behaviour as a sign of the Holy Spirit – being “slain in the spirit”, “speaking in tongues”, rolling in the aisles, breaking into uncontrolled laughter – even there, if such actions are truly Christian, God’s grace rather than human manipulation must be behind them and the real fruits of the Holy Spirit – love, joy, peace, forgiveness, compassion, and so forth – must also show forth. Here many of the televangelists and Donald Trump-Christians are lacking.
Our receptive participation in the sacramental life of the church opens us to God’s grace. So does listening to the word of God in Scripture. Scripture tells us, so to speak, IF we were to get a Christian tattoo, as a reminder of our identity and mission, of what that tattoo would be an image. And so we come to today’s two lessons.
Our God is not a spiritual tiger or snake or eagle, a spirit, a small-G god, nor is God (in the words of today’s lesson from Hebrews) “something that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and a voice whose words made the hearers beg that not another word be spoken to them”. Rather, our God is one who brings us to “Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem” through the New Covenant of Jesus Christ’s Cross, Resurrection and Glorification (in the Epistle to the Hebrews, all rolled into one), bringing us to full and eternal life in the God who is perfect Love.
The motif is Love rather than fear; in John’s words, “Perfect love casts out fear”. We are warned against images of God that are vindictive, fearful and gloomy; we are encouraged to allow ourselves to be lifted up to the heavenly Jerusalem through Christ’s triumphant entry to heaven, abolishing all forms of human sacrifice, including self-destructive behaviour. It is unfortunate how many people still hang on to the image of God as an angry and vindictive parent, always ready to punish or curse. Rather, in Christ the love of God has triumphed!
That is no more apparent than in the second lesson, a simple story from Luke’s Gospel of Jesus’ healing on the Sabbath in a synagogue of a woman who had been disabled for 18 years – against the wishes of the synagogue authorities who are offended because they believe their “sign”, the Sabbath, has been dishonoured. Jesus makes it clear to them that healing is what he is about, not observance of obsolete signs. Healing is the giving of life, the expression of God’s love in a broken human body. And, of course, society needs healing too. Both word and sacrament in our Christian life point to God’s grace expressed through healing. And we are invited to be healers with Christ, in how we treat, respect and encourage others. And, of course, in how we pray for them.
The telling of these two biblical stories should open us further to God’s grace in our lives and renewal. If you wish to go out and get a tattoo of New Jerusalem or Jesus the Healer, I will not stop you. However, as long as the Bible stories are told and reflected upon, and we participate in the church’s signs, the sacraments, tattoos are not really necessary for salvation. At best, perhaps they are an added extra, a reminder. Perhaps like a medieval Christian returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and thinking back to the excitement of that event.
In the closing words of the passage from Hebrews: “Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer to God an accepted worship with reverence and awe, for indeed our God is a consuming fire.” Amen.
(Sermon preached by Bishop Terry Brown at Church of the Ascension, Hamilton, on Sunday, August 14, 2016. Texts: Isaiah 5:1-7; Hebrews 11:29-12:2; and Luke 12:49-56.)
At the end of today’s fiery Gospel, Jesus challenges his listeners: “You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time”.
Very significantly, the Greek word for “time” here is kairos, God’s time, not chronos, the human time on the clock. Jesus is, in effect, saying to his listeners, you do not recognize God’s moment of intervention and opportunity that comes with the arrival of the Messiah and the Last Day -- kairos. Instead you are simply sunk in human signs and observations in the sphere of human time, chronos.
For us as Christians, every moment is one of potential kairos, God’s invitation to enter into and live the Reign or Kingdom of God here and now. That is the challenge for us – the same challenge as Jewish and Christian prophecy – to recognize God’s kairos here and now, God’s call to action here and now, in the midst of a violent, broken and sinful world, and to respond.
We recognize God’s kairos, God’s time, though the eyes of faith. And today’s epistle eloquently continues the accounts of faith in the Old Testament from the Book of Hebrews that we began last week. Even before the coming of Christ, faithful women and men, not necessarily Jews even, walked by faith. And through our deep faith in Christ, we attempt to understand how “to interpret the present time”, the present kairos of God.
Despite Jesus’ warning that discerning and living God’s kairos, God’s time, may sometimes divide communities and even families, the final aim is not division but rather unity, love and justice. For example, one kairos response to the alienation and loneliness that surrounds us in contemporary society is to ensure that our parish is a safe and welcoming space: that all feel comfortable and welcome here, that everyone’s talents are respected, that this is a genuinely safe and welcoming space, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. That welcoming stance requires self-discipline and withholding judgment: appreciating rather than criticizing. Before we can go out to discern God’s kairos in the world, we must be at peace with ourselves.
Isaiah’s parable of the master of the vineyard and his caring love for the vineyard reminds us that God is with us in this enterprise of discerning God’s will in this present time, the present kairos. Through prayer and a deep relationship with God and one another, we are led in the right direction: to gratitude, to trust of others, to working together in community, to being always on the side of justice, love and unity. God wants us to succeed in this enterprise, just as the master wants his vineyard to produce fruit and looks after it; we are not cursed. However, Israel was not always faithful and the master of the vineyard weeps at his people’s failures. We pray that God does not weep for us.
Recognizing the signs of the times, God’s time, kairos, here and now, also leads us to look at the injustice and violence of the world around us: wars, unjust social structures, violence, economic inequality – the list goes on. In such a situation it is very easy to get on bandwagons and advocate simple solutions. The social media often pushes us in such a direction but social media is also a potential ally, to be shaped according to kairos too.
For example, we see war in so many places, particularly in the Middle East. Many would argue that global capitalism encourages wars since wars bring prosperity to some, for example, in the production of planes, ships, arms and the other implements of war, what is commonly called the arms trade. Without arms and equipment, many wars would not escalate to the point they are now. As Canadian Christians, it is important that we urge our political leaders restrain the arms trade that starts with Canada; and to do all they can to urge our allies to do so as well. As a nation we are called to be peacemakers, not warriors. If we hold stocks, we are called to responsible investment, putting morality ahead of profits.
And then there is the environment and global warming. By all proper scientific accounts, we are reaching a crisis point in global warming and the destruction of the environment. Indeed, the terribly hot and dry summer we are having may well be a part of it all. Already in the South Pacific and elsewhere whole villages and islands are flooded and people have had to be resettled. We see suburban sprawl, 12-lane expressways that are inadequate to the traffic, pollution of rivers and oceans, unsustainable mining and other resource extraction. The role of Canadian mining companies overseas is often quite destructive, both environmentally and politically. The loss of species of both flora and fauna goes on daily. Surely there is a moment of kairos here: we have been given God’s creation and not looked after it well. We have been exploiters of creation, not its stewards.
We are called back to ourselves: our lifestyles, our political commitments, our sometimes excessive expectations and lack of interest in our surroundings except where they please us. Often the answers are simple: walk more, drive less; use the public transit instead of the car; grow some of our own food, reduce our dependence on processed foods, fly less, use less water, use less plastic, develop urban “brownlands” that save the countryside from urban sprawl, support and elect politicians (especially local politicians) who reflect our views on the environment. Even our excessive reliance on electronic technology has its environment costs – exploitative mining of rare minerals (often by children), the difficulty of recycling. On our parish level, our new heating system will reduce energy consumption and I encourage you to contribute if you have not done so already.
Whatever crisis that surrounds us, whether locally or globally, can be seen as an opportunity to respond to God’s time, God’s kairos: the dire situation of many of Canada’s native peoples, many aspects of health care, the struggle for fair wages and working conditions, precarious employment, pay-day loans, homelessness, hunger, refugees.
In short, an awareness of God’s time, God’s kairos, what is demanded by Christ in this time and place, both encourages us to build a loving and just community in this parish and sends us out to ministry, advocacy and service: indeed, prophecy. God’s kairos leads to mission, to participation in God’s Mission in the world through Jesus Christ in whatever situation we find ourselves.
It is not really a lonely activity as we should always be working together, supporting one another. And it is not a sad activity; we can work together joyfully. Gathered around the Eucharist week by week, united and strengthened by Christ’s Body and Blood, we are sent out “to love and serve the Lord”. That love and service is a response to God’s kairos in Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God!
(Sermon preached by Bishop Terry Brown at Church of the Ascension, Hamilton, on Sunday August 7, 2016. Texts: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20; Psalm 50: 1-8, 23-24; Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16; and Luke 12:32-40.)
Today’s collect particularly invokes the Holy Spirit: “Almighty God, you sent your Holy Spirit to be the light of your Church. Open our hearts to the riches of your grace, that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit in love, joy and peace…”
Aside from the Lord’s Prayer, I can hardly think of a more basic prayer to help us grow in Christian life, both as a parish and individually: the recognition of the gift of God’s Holy Spirit, openness to God’s grace in all its fullness, and that our lives, both as a community and individually, will grow in all the fruits of the Spirit, especially love, joy and peace.
Yet, sadly, both historically and in our contemporary life, the matter has not been that easy. The Holy Spirit has been invoked in persecution, racism, sexism, colonialism, crusades, violence, homophobia, exclusion and numerous other oppressions. South of the border, some Christians, invoking the Holy Spirit, support political candidates and movements that express anything but “love, joy and peace”. But we have got it wrong sometimes too. Canadian Christians who cooperated with the Canadian government in the establishment and maintenance of the Indian Residential Schools thought they were doing the work of the Holy Spirit: but history has shown otherwise in tales of violence, abuse and cultural suppression.
So how do we get it right? How can we be sure that our lives and ministries are rooted in God’s Holy Spirit and not just in egoism or a flawed spirituality or uncritical reflection and action? What do today’s lessons have to tell us?
In our Old Testament reading, the prophet Isaiah condemns the corrupt political and religious regime of Uzziah and other kings of Judah. Isaiah denounces their complicated ritual practices of sacrifices, feasts, fasts and offerings as polluted by their corruption. Rather, he declares, “cease to do evil, learn to do good: seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow”.
Each of us will live Isaiah’s injunction in different ways. I believe we are all engaged in professional, volunteer and/or personal ministries along these lines. Because I am still half living in the Solomons where there is much open injustice, corruption and many orphans and widows without social or financial support, I respond personally to that situation. We, each of us, day-by-day, I am sure, try to “cease to do evil and learn to do good”.
It is important in the “learn to do good” enterprise also to be mindful of root causes of evil and oppression and try to address them and not always just the symptoms, whether it be political corruption that produces poverty and unemployment, or an unjust economic order that produces homelessness and hunger, or violent political regimes that produce refugees. Often these issues are all mixed up and the best we can do is try thoughtfully and prayerfully to understand both the root causes so that we can contribute to changing them, but also provide immediate relief to those caught in the middle: the poor, the homeless, the unemployed, the hungry, the refugee, the seafarer, “the oppressed, the orphan, the widow”. It is not either-or but both. That is why it is important for good Christians to go into politics, to bring genuine Christian life into the political sphere.
Our Friday “Breaking Bread with Newcomer Neighbours”, cooking with refugee families recently arrived in Canada, has been growing well with good parish participation. Volunteers are still invited from the parish.
This week we had news from the Refugee Coordinator of Christ Church, Flamborough, with whom we have been cooperating along with Our Saviour, the Redeemer, Stoney Creek, that a Syrian refugee couple, Muayad and Reem, are expected within three months. They are now in Turkey, awaiting exit papers. So far, as a parish, we have raised $1,400 towards the sponsorship and I hope we can contribute more. Our Saviour, the Redeemer, has raised $2,000 but the bulk of the cost is being met by Christ Church, Flamborough. But more importantly, I hope we can now form a refugee sponsorship support group to mobilize what we as a parish with all our gifts and resources, both human and material, can do to help this couple settle in Canada.
Today’s psalm reminds is that God really is interested in all this. Our God is not some detached First Mover who is not interested in the divine creation, the Deist watchmaker who started it all up and walked away from it. I was ordained a priest in the cathedral in Fredericton and above the central arch is painted a passage from the book of Revelation, “Behold, I come quickly”. I have always been inspired by that invocation of God’s quick action, real and potential, among us.
The Epistle from Hebrews speaks of faith, “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen”: that, in effect, our commitment to “cease to do evil, learn to do good” requires a depth of faith to come to fruition, especially in adversity or strange circumstances. Faith leads to new ministries, new places and new insights. “We walk by faith” is a good motto for a parish. This faith is not so much in particular creeds and beliefs as a basic trust that God is there and loves us, despite confusion, absence, loneliness, disappointment, sin and other difficulties: that ultimately we are moving towards our heavenly homeland, not more territory or possessions on earth.
The Gospel today is a continuation of that Sister Margaret preached on last week, the futility of grounding our lives on a multitude of possessions and “stuff” and a willingness to give it all up. “Do not be afraid, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourself that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes in and no moth destroys.” The gate of heaven has no alarm system that has to be disabled before we enter. The linking of this teaching with the parable of the servants awaiting their master’s return from the wedding banquet seems to suggest that preparedness for the coming of the Son of Man (or we might read, our deaths) is generosity and the very life that Isaiah advocates: “seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow”, that is, “cease to do evil, learn to do good”.
All that makes some sense if we have wealth that we can give away. But what if we struggle with poverty, unemployment, a low fixed income or debt (or all of these). We may not experience this as “the kingdom” but rather oppression and God’s lack of care for us. Or what if we give away so much we do not have enough for ourselves? Even St. Francis had a support network he could call on.
Perhaps it is good to remind ourselves that “cease to do evil, learn to do good” also applies to how we treat ourselves. We are called not just to love God and our neighbour but also ourselves. “Love your neighbour as yourself.” This question is, I think in the end to be trusted to the Holy Spirit; each of us is different and there is potential for self-delusion on all sides. If we have a family who are dependent on us we must do what we can for them. If we are single and wealthy, it is a different story. If we are single and poor, it is a different story. But whatever our situation, we come back to “seek ye first the kingdom of God” and a call to love one another, including sharing and doing good to those in the community who have particular needs; rugged individualism and blaming the poor for their poverty is not the Christian way. Sharing and mutual support is.
Still it is important that the “love yourself” argument does not lead to greed and selfishness and that we do have the faith to give, even if we are poor or have already given. There is always someone in greater need than ourselves, no matter how poor we are. We have many safety nets in Canada that we often take for granted. In many places in the world the safety nets of extended family and subsistence living have broken down and people have nothing. Abject poverty – and I doubt if there is anyone here this morning in true abject poverty -- is the knowledge that there will be never any hope of wealth or prosperity or peace or justice. As Christians we have a responsibility to respond to such situations, both to the root causes and the actual human suffering.
Doing good, a God who cares and acts, deep faith and a willingness to be generous are all part of the life of the Holy Spirit that leads to love, joy and peace. Despite the complexities, ambiguities, failures and disappointments of our situations, let us continue on that path and grow in it. I would encourage you to use this collect in your prayers this week. Let us finish by saying it together again now:
Almighty God, you sent your Holy Spirit to be the life and light of your Church. Open our hearts to the riches of your grace, that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit in love, joy, and peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face."
Your face, Lord, will I seek.
Amen.
All of today's reading talk about God providing for us, loving us, caring for us; and how we keep turning away and not trusting God, thinking we ourselves can do better. But God still loves us and is sad, not angry, when we go our own ways.
According to the prophet Hosea, God has compassion on Israel - I loved them, I called them, I taught them, I held them, I fed them; and yet when they turn away I will not be angry, I will not destroy, I will not come in wrath. In the end they will come back to God.
The Psalm tells the same story - Israel were wandering in the desert, lost, hungry, thirsty, away from God. They called to God who was right there waiting for them. God lead them to safety, gave them food and drink and love.
We heard God in Hosea saying that God would not be angry. In the reading from Colossians we are urged to get rid of anger and all other such things and return to being in the image of our creator. In that image there are no longer opposites - Jew/Greek, slave/free and so on - but Christ is all in all.
Luke relates an event - someone said to Jesus - Tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me. This person was out for what he could get, and he wanted Jesus on his side. Maybe he was right about the inheritance, maybe not, but in saying to Jesus "Tell my brother..." all he has demonstrated is greed and a longing for 'stuff'. The parable that follows tells us about possessions. The rich man stored them, hoarded them away so he could live a long time without worry or care. He died that night with lots of stuff but no faith in God. Where did his greed get him? Nowhere! He had no faith in the God of abundance - lavish, limitless, extravagant; who fed the five thousand and had baskets left over; who rained down manna from heaven. Grace is what God is made of, what God excels at - super-mega-hyper abundance.
From the Rule of the Community of the Sisters of the Church:
Our Poverty in the Community
is an expression of our love for
and our following of Christ,
who though rich
for our sakes became poor
and lived on earth in simplicity
and dependence.
For Christ's sake
we voluntarily renounce all that we
have or might have,
seeking as the treasure which
alone can satisfy the human heart - God, whose riches are infinite,
in whom we possess everything.
We shall learn Jesus' attitude to life
of freedom and joy,
of detachment and abandonment to God
and so we shall live simply,
pilgrims of a pilgrim church travelling light;
free from a spirit of possessiveness
and anxiety, trusting ourselves
and all that concerns us to a faithful God.
Real living comes from giving your life away, not by holding onto everything and trying to get more.
Make a fist like you are holding tight to something. How can you receive anything else? Only by opening your hand.
Consider thinking we can look after ourselves without God. Where do we end up? Lost, hungry, thirsty, dead with a full barn.
Consider God's love for us, in spite of all we do to turn away. God is waiting for us, calling to us, holding out to us all we need, especially God's steadfast love. God has always loved each of us, individually and collectively. All that is asked of us is to trust, believe, and accept all God has for us.
Let us pray:
O Christ, you know all things.
You know the secrets of the heart,
and the strain of a divided life.
Give us such a vision of yourself
that our hearts may be set on you alone;
such security in your love that our
lives may show forth the beauty of your peace.
Amen
