19th Sunday After Pentecost, September 25, 2016; by Stan Bowers

No sermon text available.

THE SHREWD MANAGER CONFUSES AND TEACHES - 18th Sunday After Pentecost, September 18, 2016; by Bishop Terry Brown

(Sermon preached by Bishop Terry Brown at Church of the Ascension, Hamilton, Ontario, on the 18th Sunday after Pentecost, September 18, 2016. Text: Luke 16: 1-13.)

Sometimes it is best to regard Jesus’ parables in the Gospels rather like beads on a necklace. What at first appears to be a single bead is really a string of beads, connected by similarity of themes or other resemblances. And it may even be the case that some of the beads are older, some newer, as the early church put together in the Bible Jesus’ words and its interpretation of them.

Surely that is the case with today’s Gospel parable, sometimes called the parable of the dishonest manager. One generally reliable Catholic commentary [Jerome] suggests the passage we heard read consists of a parable and three moralizations of it, all tied together by the themes of money and faithfulness: one big bead, followed by three small ones. I have a slightly different interpretation, which I shall come to. No wonder this is one of the most confusing parables in the Bible. I am sure when Mary Goldsberry does her study on parables in the Tuesday morning Bible study, she’ll have some words to say about this parable.

So to start with the parable: Jesus is telling a story about a rich landowner, who himself may not be very honest. He wants big returns and has perhaps has trampled on many, including many of Jesus’ hearers, to get where he is. He is not someone Jesus’ hearers would be very enamoured of. He has entrusted at least a portion of his wealth to a manager, who is possibly a slave, under pressure to produce more wealth. But he is not very honest himself; he may well be overcharging his master’s business customers, charging a very high rate of interest, indebting them, and pocketing the difference. He is perhaps a “con man”, cheating both his master and his customers. But maybe the master deserves to be cheated. Finally, the manager gets caught; perhaps one of the unhappy customers has complained to the master about the high prices and the master asks to see the accounts and discovers they have been “cooked”. But the manager, very clever, has prepared for this eventuality. He quickly starts reducing his prices, perhaps down to their correct level, or even to a discount level. He knows he is going to be sacked by his master so he has nothing to lose. Indeed, perhaps he has now been forced into honesty, actually charging fair prices, though still not for very good motives. The master sees what has happened and, rather than being angry, is amazed at his manager’s cleverness and good sense. He too has been brought up short and his dishonesty challenged.

So if we stop the parable here, perhaps the message is “repent, be clever and honest, get back on the right track”. It turns out that the bargain-basement prices were a return to justice and a critique of both the master’s and the manager’s formerly selfish and greedy ways. But one needs a lot of context to come to that conclusion and by the time the parable was written up, that context may not have been so clear.

So we have three more beads, three moral explanations of the parable or moralizations.

The first: “the children of this age are shrewder in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light”. This explanation seems rather to come out of right field. Indeed, some have suggested that, because of the “children of light” reference, the origins of this saying are with the Qumran community with its very dualistic view of good and bad and its pessimism about the current age and the need to withdraw. But still there is the theme of cleverness and being clever for the sake of the Rule of God.

But then comes an even more difficult moralization: “make friends for yourself by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”

Does this passage mean to go out and make friends with casino owners, pay-day loan operators, embezzlers and billionaire arms merchants? And why would they be the ones to “welcome [us] into the eternal homes”?

There are a couple of possibilities. One is that, along the lines of the parable, through our friendship with them, repentance takes place, and everyone’s wealth vanishes because it is now shared. Another more general possible explanation is simply to be wise with our money and share it in ways (perhaps even to the point that it runs out) that ensure an entrance “into the heavenly homes”. We do not know the end of the story of the parable. Did the manager find a new job where he as now honest? Or did he get rehired for his cleverness? Did the master and manager repent of their money-centred ways? We do not know. Perhaps not. But the parable is to be completed in our lives.

Then comes a third moralization: “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful in much, and whoever is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much.” The theme shifts to faithfulness in matters both big and small. If we lie in small things, we are apt to lie in big things. And if we tell the truth in small matters, we are apt to tell the truth in big matters. Be consistent: even cheating in the smallest way is a problem and may signal a much bigger problem. The parable is invoked again, with the manager chastised for not properly looking after dishonest wealth. This interpretation risks undercutting the parable; but an invocation of preparing for “true riches” (like preparing for “eternal homes” in the second moralization) brings the theme back to “use your wealth honestly and justly” for the sake of the Rule of God.

Then we come to what I would see as a fourth bead. The neckless, so far, looks rather like one big bead (the parable), three small beads (the moralizations) – but now comes another big bead, rather a different colour: “No slave 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.”

The connection with the parable is thematic (both have to do with the use of money) but they are not really so connected. In the parable both the master and the slave-manager are devoted only to wealth. They have no other master. It is only when disaster comes upon them that they are forced to do justice – rather like the dishonest judge in another parable who is finally forced to exact justice only after the long and annoying pleading of the woman seeking justice.

Indeed, this fourth bead almost scuttles the parable: it seems to say, don’t be like either the master and manager. Choose God rather than selfish wealth.

Can one somehow see this necklace with two large beads at either end and three smaller beads in the middle as an integrated whole, as a single teaching about wealth and the Rule of God?

If we work from the end bead, “you cannot serve God and wealth”, backwards to the earlier beads, one comes up with a teaching that reads like this: always put God first; if there is wealth, do not let it take over; use it for God’s glory; wealth is given by God to share, that we might be welcomed with “true riches”, into “eternal homes”. As Pope Francis has said many times, “the shroud has no pockets”. Yes, be friendly with all, both rich and poor, but do not let wealth be the centre of friendship. Yet do not exclude wealth and sharing from friendship. The early Church shared wealth. Yet St. Paul gives us a model of one who did not want to burden the church with the expenses of his ministry; he worked to support himself in what we would call a non-stipendiary ministry.

These are only four beads of a much larger necklace that are the parables of Jesus and their interpretations, so perhaps we best stop here. We shall reflect more upon many other beads in the week ahead, and hear more teaching on this subject.

Let us pray:

God of love and justice, give us a right mind towards the material wealth that we possess or, indeed, do not possess. Help us to share wisely. Help us to put you at the centre of our possessions and wealth. We pray for those without material wealth and thank you for the many gifts they have to offer. And open our hands, blessed by you, to share with the heart of Christ: these things we pray through your Son Jesus Christ, our true riches, in the power of the Holy Spirit. AMEN.

NO LESS THAN ALL - 17th Sunday After Pentecost, September 11, 2016; by Nicole Smith

A funny thing happened on the way to the lectern, to alter a common saying for the situation. The readings for this week were accidentally switched with last week, and I was worried that I'd have a difficult time speaking from last week's readings. But God knows all things and it turns out that these readings have their own appropriate connections to today's theme of volunteer appreciation, though each reading is, in one way or another, a challenge to comfortable and easy modern views of spiritual life and community.

First, let's look at how each of the readings fits with our theme. 

I'm sure many of you are familiar with this passage from Jeremiah where the prophet is asked by God to “go down to the potter's house”, and there to listen to what God had to say. Probably many of you have watched a potter at the wheel yourselves. Perhaps you have even “thrown clay”, as the expression goes? In a blink of an eye, you can go from lightly shaping a beautiful vessel on the wheel to watching it twist into a mess which has to be thrown again from scratch.

God's words relating this to Israel being clay in God's hands are chilling to modern sensibilities. I don't think this is a popular text for 21st century individuals who pride themselves on forging their own destinies. But the truth is, each of us is in the hand of God. We have all had to face this reality when our careful plans and heartfelt dreams have been smashed to pieces by unexpected development in our life.

The good news is that submitting to God's way means that our lives can be formed in beautiful ways that no one expected. Even the biggest disaster can be redeemed into something better than we experienced before. As we have known this in our personal lives, so it is in our life as a church. And it is those who are in positions of deciding and advising on those decision who need the faith to look to God and to do what is necessary to redeem difficult situations.

The psalm, too, speaks of God forming each person, not in the more distant metaphor of clay, but in the much warmer and more intimate reality of development in the womb. The psalmist is deeply grateful to be God's handiwork, accepting of the fact that God has already seen his whole life before he was even born. Is seeing everything the same as deciding for us what life will be? It seems that there is still room for our decisions, as long as we can be at peace with the big picture being beyond our total control.

The reading from Paul's letter to Philemon is perhaps the most directly applicable of today's lessons to our theme of volunteer appreciation, especially as it begins, with glowing praise for Paul's dear friends and family in God. As we do today, and will continue to do in the months to come for Ascension's hard-working volunteers, Paul thanks these believers continually for their love for other Christians and their faith in Jesus.

Paul also had a special favour to ask of them. He had become very close to a slave who had run away from them, and the slave had become a Christian, and at this point, it seemed best to send him back to them, though he had become an invaluable help to Paul.

We are modern people, horrified by slavery. But we know that two millenia ago, people had very different assumptions about slaves. Can we hear the significance in that context of Paul asking them to accept their runaway slave back as a “beloved brother, especially to me but how much more to you!” Paul refused to treat him as society dictated at the time, as a  piece of property to be returned to the original owners. He spoke caringly of an opportunity for Philemon and his family to rejoice because a new brother in Christ wanted to come back to them.

We, too, are often faced with hard choices within our spiritual family. Pressed from the outside by societal and cultural expectations, the church is called to look with new eyes of love and compassion when our brothers and sisters grieve or disappoint us, and find God's way through to the best solution possible for the healing of the body of Christ.

Finally, the gospel reading includes these very hard words from Jesus, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? ...  So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

The Greek word for “hate”, “miseo”, is used in other situations, both in the Bible and secular documents from that time, in the sense of “loving less”. So Jesus is not contradicting the commandment to honour father and mother, or asking his followers not to want to live. But Jesus was well aware of the constant push we experience as humans from our relationships with those we love most dearly to put them first, rather than putting God first, and so, as he often did, he uses direct language to shock us into awareness of the magnitude of the struggle ahead of us. He further emphasises his point by using other metaphors: the cross we must carry, and making sure we have the money for a tower before building. Many Christians have leaned toward a literal understanding of the need to give up all possessions – even if we don't take it literally, we at least have to take it seriously, and this has tremendous implications for everything we have. But that's a Stewardship message for another time.

For now, it's enough to see the totality of the commitment Jesus asks.

I don't know if you're like me in this sense, but I often find music coming to mind as I read or think about something.  As I began to reflect on this gospel reading, a song from a Christian pop band began to run through my head. Some of the lyrics are “It's gonna take more than just a little bit, more than just a little time... It’s gonna take more than a part of me / No less than all.”

No less than all. I see this level of commitment in my brothers and sisters in Christ being honoured today, as well as others we will be celebrating in the coming months, and others who have laboured long already, and even have already gone before us, like dear Carol Siksay. As a volunteer leader, I am inspired and challenged to be this committed, and look to God for the strength and resources to do my part.

To conclude then, the scriptures challenge us to look at our personal lives, our plans, our community, and in the end, everything we have and consider ours from a divine perspective. In doing so, the dedication and sacrifice of those who shoulder heavy responsibilities at the Ascension are seen in the light of a very important service to God that we honour, and for which we are profoundly grateful. May we show the depth of our gratitude not only in words and tokens of thanks, but through the esteem and grace with which we care for each other day by day. Amen

HOSPITALITY - 15th Sunday After Pentecost, August 28, 2016; by Leonel Abaroa Boloña

(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.

LIVING OUR CHRISTIAN TATTOOS - 14th Sunday After Pentecost, August 21, 2016; by Bishop Terry Brown

(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.

KAIROS: GOD’S TIME - 13th Sunday After Pentecost, August 14, 2016; by Bishop Terry Brown

(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!

BRINGING FORTH THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT - 12th Sunday after Pentecost, August 7, 2016; by Bishop Terry Brown

(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.