A SERMON FOR WORLD COMMUNION SUNDAY

TEXT: Acts 5:27-42

“If this plan or this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them …” (Acts 5:38b-39a)

World Communion Sunday reminds us of our global connections. It makes us think about our ties to Christians across the earth—and about the value of generosity toward others. Those are worthwhile things to consider on this day—especially given the fact that church history records more discord than harmony between Christians.

Most of that strife has been, frankly, born of narrow-mindedness, intolerance, and the conviction of all parties involved that their particular group, or sect, or denomination has a monopoly on the truth. And we so-called “liberal” Christians are as guilty of this as are the fundamentalists.

Now, when you’re absolutely convinced that your way is the right way—and if you believe that defence of the revealed truth is your responsibility … Well, let’s just say that few things can get people as worked up as can religion. Our passage from the Book of Acts demonstrates that this has been true for a very long time.

The early church was having a tough go of it. Having been energized by the universal Spirit on Pentecost, they were preaching a controversial Christian message everywhere anyone would listen. Now, you have to remember that Christian faith is a product of Judaism, and almost all of the earliest followers of Jesus were Jews. They did not intend to start a new religion, but they did believe that God had given them a new—and quite radically different—way of thinking about their Jewish faith.

The Jewish religious authorities, however, were not impressed. They had the disciples arrested and brought before the council. It looked like the entire leadership of the early church would not leave that place alive.

In the midst of this explosive atmosphere, a big-spirited rabbi named Gamaliel stood up to offer some wise counsel about tolerance. He said:

“Fellow Israelites, consider carefully what you propose to do to these men … In this case it might be best to leave them be; because if this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is of God, you will not be able to stop it—you might even be fighting against God!”

Fortunately for the Apostles, Gamaliel was a person of no small influence. A prominent Pharisee, he was a highly-respected scholar and teacher, and had been a pupil of the esteemed Hillel. The council took Gamaliel’s advice and let the apostles go.

Gamaliel was a voice of moderation in an age that was every bit as intolerant as our own. His instincts were inclusive and progressive. He favoured modification of some of the stricter Sabbath laws, and championed the rights of women. Quite an interesting figure.

You know, there are two kinds of tolerance. One kind is a permissive attitude that says, “Anything goes. Nothing matters. Live and let live.” It’s easy to be tolerant when you don’t believe in anything!

But that was not Gamaliel. His was a tolerance of conviction. He was loyal to Israel’s covenant. He believed in God. In fact, his attitude toward the disciples was rooted in his belief about God. “Don’t worry; if this is a human venture, it will fail.” On the other hand, “If God is behind it, there is nothing you can do to stop it.” And then this little zinger: “In fact, you would be opposing God!”

This really is a pivotal point in the church’s story. It was a situation where all the apostles could have been put to death at once, and there might be no Christianity today—if not for Gamaliel. It’s no wonder, then, that he was a beloved figure to Christians. And it’s no wonder that the church has never forgotten him.

But then, God always seems to have some Gamaliel type around to preserve his cause: people who have a universal outlook, who are compassionate, and caring, and cut others some slack. I think this story from the Book of Acts has a lot to teach us about causes that appear to be lost but which—in the end—win. And I think it has something to say also about causes that look very promising at first, but end up losing.

When two men came after dark to bury Jesus’ body, it looked for all practical purposes that they had bet on a lost cause. But that all changed on Easter morning!

When Rosa Parks refused to give her seat to a person just because he was white, she appeared so outnumbered. What could possibly come from such an insignificant event in Montgomery, Alabama? How could she ever hope to win? Yet her courageous act of protest marked a turning point for the American civil rights movement. It didn’t look like much at the time, but when Rosa Parks sat down, the world sat up and took notice! The universal spirit prevailed, and the better side of the American conscience made necessary changes to end discrimination because of a person’s colour or gender.

Conversely, some movements appear destined to win. Adolf Hitler’s Germany was a seemingly unbeatable power in the early 1940s. With overwhelming military might and an agenda intent on conquering the world, it looked for a while as if it would happen. European Jewry had been decimated. Russia had its back to the wall. England was hanging by a thread. Canada and America were going to be next.

But God had Dietrich Bonhoeffer. And God had Harry Truman, and Winston Churchill, and Dwight Eisenhower. God had the Canadian Third Division at Juno Beach. And in the end, the racist claims and hateful actions of the Nazis came to nothing.

Things come and go. Gamaliel was wise enough to know that. And he had faith enough to know this: those things that are of God will last! And those things that are not of God … well, they won’t make it.

Be patient. Wait and see. Things are not always what they appear to be. You have to “winter and summer” with some movements before you understand what they’re really like. There are always things about which people were very sure once-upon-a-time, that they aren’t so sure about anymore. Sometimes what people once thought was the will of God, later seems to clearly not have been from God at all.

Throughout history God has worked in ways none of us understand. To his everlasting credit, Gamaliel seemed to recognize that, which is why he advised: “Be careful here. God may be at work!”

That’s why some things that are clear now are the opposite of things that were clear to people of yesterday. Sometimes it pays to be a little tentative and wait for God to act—to wait for a clearer picture, for more time, for more events to happen—so we can see in which direction God is leading us.

In any event, when we buy that kind of time, we allow ourselves to reserve judgment about certain things—and certain people. And we Christians are a diverse group, you know. Just within my own denomination, we have religious liberals and religious conservatives; we have feminists and we have traditionalists. We have young and old, male and female, people who love the old hymns and people who want to experiment with new music and new forms of worship. If we had a motto, it might be this: “We reserve the right to accept everybody.”

Every day, I see people displaying that kind of acceptance—probably without even realizing they’re doing it. Does it make a difference? You bet it does! To be open to others; to welcome the stranger; to focus on people’s strengths, and not their weaknesses—these are radical acts of tolerance and compassion in a too-often cruel and intolerant world.

It fell to Peter to be the leader of the early Christian movement, but he could not have done it without Gamaliel’s universal spirit.

So, on this World Communion Sunday, I think we should celebrate the ministry of Rabbi Gamaliel. Because today we are reminded that Christ has called us to a table that is universal, that encompasses all the diversities of this world—a table where all are welcome, where human differences are recognized as gifts, not as burdens.

We may not know everything, but we do know some things. We know who God is and where God may be found. And we know how to share the love that is in our hearts. And make no mistake about it: there is a lot of love to share. Soon, it will be time to gather around the table of our Lord. In the spirit of Gamaliel, I invite you. Amen.

 

NATO says it wants its members to develop national plans to bolster the capacity of their individual defence industry sectors, a concept Canada has struggled with — or avoided outright — for decades. The threat of an armed confrontation between western allies and Russia or China (or both) hangs over Canada, and—according to Vincent Rigby, a former national security and intelligence adviser to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau—the country still doesn’t have a national security strategy, a formal foreign policy or a defence industrial policy.

“Given the state of the world, we have to have contingency plans in place,” Rigby said.

https://www.msn.com/en-ca/news/canada/thinking-the-unthinkable-nato-wants-canada-and-allies-to-gear-up-for-a-conventional-war/ar-AA1reCaP#

 

U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said on Thursday that the U.S. would continue to provide military aid to Israel, playing down the idea of “red lines”, even as he warned that an all-out conflict between Israel and Hezbollah would be devastating.

Israel rejected global calls for a ceasefire with Lebanon’s Iran-backed Hezbollah on Thursday, defying its biggest ally the U.S. and pressing ahead with strikes that have killed hundreds in Lebanon and heightened fears of a regional war.

https://www.aol.com/news/risk-war-between-hezbollah-israel-145948665.html

 

An Israeli airstrike hit a school sheltering thousands of displaced Palestinians in northern Gaza on Thursday, killing at least 11 people and wounding 22, including women and children, the territory’s Health Ministry said.

The Israeli military confirmed it struck the school in the Jabalia refugee camp, saying it was targeting Hamas militants inside who were planning attacks on Israeli troops.

https://www.ctvnews.ca/world/at-least-11-killed-in-israeli-strike-that-hit-a-school-in-northern-gaza-1.7053264

 

A Prayer for Deliverance

Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)

 

Holy God, we who are surrounded by voices raised in protest and in anguish bring before you the wrongs from which humanity still suffers. Remembering that you are the Creator of the whole human family, we pray for those upon whom are inflicted the cruelties of war: those who are killed, maimed, and made homeless by armed conflict; those who are mistreated by members of occupying forces; those who are brutalized by what they are ordered to do; those who are forced to fight against their conscience.

We pray for those who are denied their liberty: those who are persecuted for their religious views; those compelled to live and work as slaves; those denied access to education and health care. Make us more open to new ideas—and more able to see the face of Christ in the face of every neighbour.

We pray for those who stand against injustice and oppression: those who protest publicly; those who rouse opinion by their speech and writing; those who bring just concerns to the attention of politicians and others in authority. By the power of your Holy Spirit, make them willing first of all to appeal to the judgment and the conscience; guide them as they ponder whether to use violent means to right extreme wrongs; preserve them from corrupting those whose cause they take up—from destroying some while liberating others.

Great, mysterious, Triune God, we thank you for standing with us as we work for justice and peace—for it is difficult work. In many cases it seems that we can only have one without the other: peace, at the cost of perpetuating injustice; or justice, at the cost of a broken peace. O God, show all people how they can strive for justice without recourse to the violence of war; and—if a nation must go to war—may it not cause greater evil than it seeks to remove.

O God, speak strong words of courage to those who must live out their lives facing challenge as it comes. Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy name. Hear us as we pray …

ONE:  From a spirit of contention which would destroy our unity;

MANY:  Good Lord, deliver us.

ONE:  From a spirit of rage which would destroy our love;

MANY:  Good Lord, deliver us.

ONE:  From a spirit of despair which would destroy our hope;

MANY:  Good Lord, deliver us.

ONE:  From pride of self which leaves no room for your Spirit;

ALL:  Good Lord, deliver us—for Jesus’ sake.  Amen.

Proper 20, Year B

TEXT: Mark 9:30-37

[Jesus] called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark 8:34-35)

Do you recognize that Scripture? It’s from last week’s gospel lesson, where Jesus issued the sternest rebuke to Simon Peter, who had tried to talk him out of becoming a human sacrifice: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” (Mark 8:33)

Today’s gospel seems to pick up that same dismal thread: “… he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him …’” (Mark 9:31)

Jesus talks about this stuff a lot, doesn’t he? Dying. Carrying the cross. Losing your life in order to save it. The philosopher Elton Trueblood once said: “In many areas, the gospel, instead of taking away peoples’ burdens, actually adds to them.”

A cheerful message, yes? Not!

I don’t know about you, but I can get very discouraged thinking about the cost of discipleship. I always end up comparing myself to great saints like Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Martin Luther King, Jr., who literally gave up their lives for what they believed in. And there is certainly no scarcity of martyrs in the history of the Church.

Or I contemplate people like Mother Theresa, who gave her whole life over to serving the poorest of the poor in the streets of Calcutta, and then I feel guilty about the frail quality of my own discipleship.

Even when it comes to preaching—which I’m supposed to be good at—I can look at the late Billy Graham, who preached in person to more people around the world than any other Protestant in history. According to Wikipedia, Graham’s lifetime audience—including radio and television broadcasts—has exceeded two billion. More importantly, over two-and-a-half million people—including me—have accepted Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour because of that one man’s preaching. I hear statistics like that, and … brother … do I feel inadequate.

Well, for those of us who think the crosses we’re carrying aren’t heavy enough—or big enough, or rough enough—the second half of today’s gospel lesson ought to provide some small degree of comfort.

Jesus and his disciples were travelling to Capernaum, and while they were walking along, some of them were arguing over which of them was the greatest—the best, the most important, the most valuable member of Jesus’ company. They thought he was going to be king of Israel, and I suppose they all wanted cabinet positions. When Jesus realized this, what did he do?

He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” (Mark 9:35-37)

Did you hear that? Do you understand what Jesus is saying? All you guys who’ve ever had to change a dirty diaper … all you mothers who’ve struggled to get a toddler to eat vegetables … all that stuff counts! Ever volunteered to help in the Sunday School? I don’t know if that will be your ticket to heaven, but at least it’ll get your foot on the platform.

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,” Jesus said. So you don’t necessarily have to go out and get yourself shot, or beheaded, or crucified, in order to be a faithful follower of Christ. You just have to pay attention to the opportunities for service that are all around you, and then ask yourself what you can do—what you feel called to do—even if it’s something as simple as taking care of babies in the church nursery, or helping make sandwiches for hungry schoolchildren. Does that not sound big enough? Or important enough? Well, maybe that means it’s a good place to start.

You know, Jesus’ attitude toward children is a good example of his attitude toward people in general. If you’re at all familiar with the gospel accounts, you’ll know that Jesus very rarely hung out with the rich and the powerful. He spent a lot of time, however, with the poorer classes: fishermen, prostitutes, petty criminals, people with leprosy and mental illness … and—perhaps the most voiceless people of all—children.

In fact, Jesus held children up as models of the faithful spiritual life. In Matthew’s gospel, when the disciples come to Jesus and ask him, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (Matt. 18:1), his response is more or less the same as in this morning’s reading:

He called a child, whom he put amongst them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (MATT. 18:2-4)

Do you want to be great in the kingdom of heaven? Do you want to be the best-ever disciple of Jesus? Then become like a little child.

Now, I have a question for you parents—and grandparents. Do your children always do what you want them to do? Do you love them any less because they don’t? Of course not. Even when they misbehave—or are lazy, or irresponsible, or rude—your children are still your children, and you love them anyway.

Or suppose you needed to move a heavy chesterfield into another room; would you call upon your four-year-old to help you carry it? Of course not. But you might ask your teenager to help. It’s the same in God’s family. Not every one of us can do the heavy lifting—but that’s all right, because others in the family can do it, and are glad to do it. There are other things that the rest of us can do, and we will be called upon to do them. But no one of us is expected to do it all.

We are God’s children, and God loves us regardless of our behaviour or our capabilities. I hope every one of you reading this believes that, because it’s true. This is not, however, meant to let you off the hook. Each of us has gifts and talents that the Lord expects us to use as he directs us.

The point is, God doesn’t call upon most of us to do anything that the world would consider great. But Jesus tells us that God has his own ideas about greatness, and they are ideas which turn our human conception of things upside down: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

So if you’ve got the discipleship blues, take heart! God isn’t likely to call upon you to single-handedly convert the Taliban or put an end to hunger, homelessness, or war. But he may very well ask you to play some small part. It could be something as small and symbolic as folding a paper crane and walking for peace. Or something as simple as helping mash potatoes for a church supper. Or making sure that the Food Bank collection box stays full. Or even … yes, even offering to help in the Sunday School!

Oh, the time may come when an opportunity—and a call—will come to do some great thing. But probably not until you’ve been at this discipleship thing for a while. You wouldn’t ask—and wouldn’t want—your eight-year-old to hop in the car and drive down to the market to get a quart of milk* … but the time will certainly come when she’s capable of doing that, and you’ll ask her then.

So I guess my message to you this morning is: Don’t get discouraged about your discipleship! Don’t get lazy about it, either; but don’t beat yourself up because you’re not making headline news. God doesn’t care about the headlines. God cares about you, and about how you fit into this Body of Christ called the Church.

I’m reminded of a story about a man named Leonard who came to his rabbi and said, “Rabbi, I am so worried about my life. I try so hard to be a good person, to do God’s will, but when I read the Torah, and see the great things that Moses did, I feel like I am worthless.” And if you’ve heard this familiar story, you know already what the rabbi said to the man: “On the day of judgment, God will not ask you, ‘Why were you not more like Moses?’ but rather, ‘Why were you not more like Leonard?’”

God has a purpose for your life, and it is something that will become clear to you over time as you walk this pilgrim’s path. But it won’t become clear to you by comparing yourself—favourably or unfavourably—to others. It becomes clear only as you make the journey, keeping your eyes and ears open to the landmarks and road signs that the Holy Spirit leads you past. Then, it’s just a matter of recognizing your opportunities.

Thanks be to God, who loves us and challenges us as his children, and helps us to grow “to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13b). Amen.

*  https://www.ctvnews.ca/world/8-year-old-ohio-girl-takes-her-family-s-suv-drives-to-target-1.7042474

 

Proper 19, Year B

TEXT: Mark 8:27-38

[Jesus] asked them … “who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” […] Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. (Mark 8:29, 31-32)

Peter got it—and yet, he didn’t get it. He got the Christ part—but not the cross part.

If we were to look at Mark’s Gospel as a teeter-totter, this is the centre, the fulcrum—the point at which the story begins to tip in another direction. Prior to this passage, Jesus has been traveling about preaching, teaching, and healing. From this point forward, his path leads to Jerusalem—and the shadow of the cross looms over everything.

Mark sets the transformation point on one simple question: “Who do people say that I am?”

It’s an easy question. The disciples tell what they have heard. Jesus has made an extraordinary impact on the public, and people are looking for ways to explain the charisma and power of this itinerant rabbi from Nazareth.

Some think he is John the Baptist. There were rumours, you see, that John was not really killed by Herod. It was a kind of first century Elvis Presley myth.

Other people thought Jesus was Elijah—or another of the great prophets—come to life again.

Then Jesus asked the disciples a tougher question: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter rose to the occasion, answering, “You are the Messiah.”

Jesus told them to keep his identity under their hats. And then he told them quite candidly what it meant for him to be the Messiah: “that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” (Mark 8:31)

Peter couldn’t stand it. He took Jesus aside and quietly tried to talk some sense into him. But Jesus angrily rebuked Peter, telling him that his mind was focused on human, temporal events and not on the larger perspective of God.

What a painful moment. Poor Peter! Like I said, he got the Christ part, but not the cross part.

I can relate to Peter, because I struggle with that, too—with understanding the Christ part and the cross part. Even after more than a quarter-century of ministry—and most of a lifetime as a professing Christian—the cross part perplexes me. I still wonder why Jesus had to die the way he did.

And I wonder why, after all these centuries, the cross yet casts its shadow across our paths. Suffering and calamity and brutal violence seem to be everywhere.

The tragedy which unfolded in Winder, Georgia earlier this month at Apalachee High School—where two students and two teachers were shot and killed and nine other people were hospitalized with gunshot wounds—serves to underscore our own fears as we consider the problem of evil. Why should so many innocent people have their lives so abruptly ended or senselessly changed forever?

And it was senseless—as all violence is senseless. That’s what makes it all the more tragic, and—since we are people of faith—what causes us to ask: Why did it have to happen? How could God allow it to happen?

Those are good questions. I wish I could give you some good answers—but I can’t. I don’t understand the why of suffering and death any better than you do. All I can tell you is that suffering and death appear to be part and parcel of our human condition.

Perhaps that is precisely why Jesus had to suffer and die: if he hadn’t, he would not have been genuinely human. He would not have been one of us—and if that was the case, then the doctrine of the Incarnation would be meaningless.

In Christ, God became one of us, entering our human condition, and sharing in it fully. In Christ, God came to live the life we live—not just the fun parts, but the sorrowing and suffering parts, too.

Why do innocent people suffer? Why does God allow evil things to happen? There are no satisfying answers to those questions. However, as we ponder them, we are wise if we consider the cross. Whatever may be the ultimate meaning of human suffering, we know that God did not shield himself from it. God did not shield his Son from it. In Christ, God bore our pain. In a body like ours, God’s Messiah embraced our pain. And with lips like ours, Jesus is still asking us: “Who do you say that I am?”

I believe that is the central question for the Christian. It is the question with which we live from our baptism until our death. Over the years we will probably give very different answers to the question. But that’s O.K.—because the important thing is not our answer, but our willingness to keep the question alive in our daily journey.

Our best resource for understanding Jesus is our own encounter with him. When we pray, we may address the prayers to God the Father, or to the Holy Spirit, or to Jesus—but we understand that, somehow, we are addressing one God. And in the listening to that one God, we may catch a glimpse of who Jesus is.

Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” This is our homework assignment: to offer our lives as an answer to that question—even when the answer is painful. Although there is no due date on the assignment, I presume that God wishes to see some progress from time to time.

And prayer is one of the best tools we have for making that progress. So—do pray about specific issues and concerns that are on your mind. Do ask God all of your “why” questions. But when you have finished speaking to God, spend at least that much time listening.

As your life of faith becomes a journey with the question, “Who do you say that I am?” allow it to be open to two great mysteries which you may never be able to finally solve. They are these eternal questions: “How was Jesus God’s Messiah?” and “Why was the cross necessary?”

Like I said, I do not have clear answers to those questions. But I am constantly exploring and enlarging them, and I encourage you to do the same. With God’s help, I pray that we will begin to get both the Christ part and the cross part—for Jesus’ sake and our own.

Amen.

Proper 18, Year B

TEXTS: Isaiah 35:4-7; James 2:1-17; Mark 7:24-37

From there [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “… you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha”, that is, “Be opened.” And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. (Mark 7:24-27a, 30-35)

The story is told of Saint Francis of Assisi, who entered a village with one of his monks. Their purpose was to preach the gospel. When they arrived at the village they quickly engaged the local folk in conversation and passed their time helping the villagers with their work, sharing stories, eating and drinking together, and entering into the life of the community.

As the end of the day drew near, Francis announced that it was time for them to return to the monastery. They were about to make their way out of the village, when the other monk—with great concern—said, “Did we not come here to preach the gospel to these people? When are we going to do that?”

Francis replied, saying this: “If these people have not heard the gospel today, then reading from the Bible will not make any difference to them.” And so, they went on their way.

Today, we hear the apostle James make the same point just as plainly:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill”, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:14-17)

That last statement is the one that usually gets James into trouble: “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” James has been seriously misunderstood—and roundly criticized—for advocating a “theology of works.” That is to say, for holding the view that salvation is possible through doing “good works” apart from faith.

But did he really hold that view? I’m not so sure. To me, today’s epistle lesson sounds like an elaboration upon the theme James introduced in the preceding chapter, where he exhorts his readers to: “be doers of the word and not merely hearers.” (James 1:22)

For James, the “doing of good works” is the inescapable consequence of hearing the Good News and understanding its implications. James understood that those who hear the gospel and understand its message will find themselves compelled to take up—and continue—the work of Jesus Christ. In other words, real faith always produces concrete action.

And here we see the connection between our epistle and gospel readings. For, in Mark, we are shown a picture of Jesus in action—heeding the words of a Gentile woman, and bringing healing to a man who had been deaf and unable to speak clearly.

But the accounts of Jesus’ ministry are never meant to be solely biographical sketches. Their purpose is primarily theological and spiritual. What is said about Jesus tells the reader something about the nature of God—for instance, God’s compassion for the broken and the wounded, the lost and the outcast.

It is important to remember that people such as the deaf man and the Gentile woman were effectively excluded from access to God through the temple—because they were not allowed to enter it! Jesus, however, came to them. The arrival of Jesus meant that the outcast and marginalized suddenly—perhaps for the first time in their lives—had direct access to God.

At the same time, the gracious approach and touch of Jesus holds a significance that goes far beyond mere altruism and “niceness.” For those who were able to read the signs and understand the metaphors and allusions behind Jesus’ actions, it was obvious that God was working in their midst to bring about the time of peace that had been spoken of by the prophets.

Some would assert that the story in Mark is symbolic rather than literal. To the person of faith, it doesn’t matter. Such a view does nothing to undermine the considerably more profound spiritual truths contained within Mark’s account. Faith, after all, has nothing to do with empirical evidence or verifiable reports. If the answers are clear, given, and indisputable, how can anyone have faith?

Faith always holds the unseen and the partially-known in tension with lived reality and human experience. If anything can be proved beyond reasonable doubt, then faith in it is unnecessary.

Faith speaks and hears in a spiritual language—and whatever the scholars may think or say about a particular passage, the spiritual message and meaning will remain intact. And for us, that is always the more important consideration.

In the case of this story, the underlying spirituality of hope is supplied by an oracle from the prophet Isaiah:

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. (Isaiah 35:5-6)

Isaiah was writing for the people in exile in Babylon, offering them hope that they would return to their own land, the land promised and given by God. Yet the quotation from Isaiah contains words of hope for exiles of every time and place. And there are perhaps no sorrier exiles than those who are estranged from the living God. There will come a time, Isaiah says, when what is wrong will be made right.

Mark saw Jesus as the One who would usher in the time spoken of by Isaiah. That is the nature of the Good News for Mark: that in Jesus, what is wrong with the world is being made right, what is broken is being made whole, what is afflicted is being healed. And so, Mark makes a connection between his time and the tumultuous world of the prophet Isaiah.

Nevertheless, the continuing spiritual reality is that the story does not end with Mark’s Gospel. It does not end with any of the gospels. Rather, the story of the Good News continues right through to the present day—to this place, here and now! The gospel is meant to be a living and continuing reality in the presence of God’s people, even—and perhaps especially—in places where there is distress, injustice, and affliction.

Centuries ago, James understood this call to continuing action; and his words remain as true today as they were when they were written. When Christians seek the lost, comfort the grieving, and heal the sick, they are neither acting for their own sake, nor because they are “nice” people. They are certainly not acting because they believe they can earn their place in heaven by what they do. No.

Christians do these things because they are called to continue the work of Christ. As partners in his ministry, we are called to take his message into places where people are—for whatever reason—unable to hear it. We are called to carry the gospel into places where people have no voice, and no one to advocate for them. And make no mistake about it: in today’s world, the poor and the powerless, the deaf and the voiceless, are found everywhere—even in the church.

Mark’s Gospel is a reminder of God’s will that suffering should no longer be the common condition of humankind. The letter of James reminds us that we have an essential share in exactly the same work as Jesus. In a very real sense, when faithful people accept their calling and engage in the ministry of Jesus, they actually become Jesus, and the Kingdom of Heaven is once more brought near.

As Saint Francis once said—and as so many others have quoted: “Preach the gospel everywhere—and if necessary … use words!”

A Children’s Story for Proper 17, Year B

James 1:17-27 (EasyEnglish Bible)

¹⁷ Remember that every good gift comes to us from God. He only does what will help us. He is our Father in heaven. He made everything in the sky that gives us light. Those things do not give us the same light all the time. They change, but God does not change. ¹⁸ He chose to make us his children. He used his true message to do that. Because of that, we are like the first special gift that belongs to him from among everything that he has made.

¹⁹ Understand this, my Christian friends: We must all be careful to listen. We should not be too quick to speak. We should not get angry quickly. ²⁰ God wants us to do what is right. But when someone is angry, they do not do those right things. ²¹ So stop doing disgusting things. Stay away from the wicked things that are all around you. God has put his message deep inside you, and it can save you. So be careful to accept that message.

²² But be careful to do what God says in his message. Do not only listen to it. Do not make that mistake! ²³ You must obey God’s message. Do not be like a man who quickly looks at his face in a mirror. ²⁴ That man looks at himself, but then he goes away. He immediately forgets what he is really like. ²⁵ So do not just listen to God’s message and then forget it. It is a completely good message that makes people free. Look at it carefully and keep it in your mind. Do what it tells you to do. God will bless anyone who lives in that way.

²⁶ Maybe some of you think that you are serving God well. But if you also say bad things about people, you do not serve God well at all. You are doing something bad even when you think you are doing good things. ²⁷ If you want to serve God in a completely good way, do things like this: Help children who have no parents and women who are widows. Help them in their troubles. If you serve God our Father like that, he will be pleased with you. Do not let the bad people in this world make you bad too.

EasyEnglish Bible Copyright © MissionAssist 2019 – Charitable Incorporated Organisation 1162807. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

 

Love Binds Us Together

TEXT: James 1:17-27

OBJECTS: tape, glue, paper clip, bolt.

THEME: Love keeps us close.

 

Look what I’ve got! A roll of tape, some glue, a paper clip, and a bolt. These all do the same kind of job.

Who knows what that job is?

They are all used to hold things together.

Almost everything we can think of has to be held together by something. Can you name a few of them?

• A letter of many pages (paper clip).
• Crafts or artwork that you do in school (glue, tape).
• Big machines—like your family car (bolts).

Something else that has to be held together is … US!

We need to be close to other people—especially our friends. If we are not close to others, we become sad and lonely.

What sorts of things make us become not close to others? What makes you want to run away from somebody?

• If they yell at you.
• If they get mad and shove you.
• If they don’t pay any attention to what you are saying.

In the letter that he wrote, Jesus’ brother James says this:

“We must all be careful to listen. We should not be too quick to speak. We should not get angry quickly. God wants us to do what is right. But when someone is angry, they do not do those right things.” (James 1:19b-20)

We need to be close to our friends, and also our family. Most importantly, we need to be close to our church family—because Jesus told us his disciples (that’s all of us) should stick together.

So what makes people stick together? What makes you want to be friends with someone?

• If they share things with you.
• If they listen to you and comfort you when you are sad.
• If they care about other people and help them.

I know one thing that does it better than anything else: LOVE!

When it comes to sticking people together, love is better than tape, glue, paper clips, or bolts. How can we show love for other people?

• Sharing
• Listening
• Caring

There are other things that we sometimes think will keep us close to others, but they don’t work as well as love does.

You may think that you are friends with a person because you live on the same street—but if that is all that makes you friends, it will be over the first time you have a serious disagreement.

Or you may think you are friends with a person because you like the same sport (or the same games)—but this usually doesn’t last, either.

Even living in the same house with your family will not automatically make you close to them.

In every case, what we really need is love for that person.

If you want to be close to someone, love is the thing that will help you stick together.

Remember:  “[God] chose to make us his children. He used his true message to do that. Because of that, we are like the first special gift that belongs to him from among everything that he has made.” (James 1:18)

Hear that? We are all God’s children. We are a special gift—to God, and to one another. God wants us to love each other.

 PRAYER:

Thank you, God, for loving us and making us your children. Help us to share with each other your special gift of love. In Jesus’ name we ask it. Amen.

TEXTS: Matthew 26:6-13; Ezekiel 37:1-10; Luke 21:5-19

“For you will always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. By pouring the ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial.” (Matt. 26:11-12)

“Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD’ … ” (Ezekiel 37:4)

“When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” (Luke 21:9)

 

• July 26, 2024: Speaking at the Turning Point Action Believers’ Summit in Florida, former president Donald Trump said, “Get out and vote just this time. You won’t have to do it anymore. Four more years it will be fixed. It’ll be fine. You won’t have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians.”

• August 14, 2024: Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, Director-General of the World Health Organization (WHO) declared that the rise in mpox cases constitutes a public health emergency of international concern (PHEIC).

• August 15, 2024: The death toll in Gaza has surpassed 40,000, health officials in the territory say. As the Israel-Hamas war enters its 11th month, it is firmly entrenched as one of the most destructive conflicts in recent memory.

• August 22, 2024: The U.S. National Weather Service Hurricane Center has identified four tropical waves in the Atlantic Ocean that warrant monitoring as we approach the peak of the 2024 Atlantic hurricane season. Hurricane Ernesto struck Bermuda last week, causing dangerous surf and rip currents along the East Coast. In July, Hurricane Beryl became the earliest Category 5 hurricane on record, causing catastrophic damage and leading to 20 deaths as it ravaged several Caribbean islands.

“Signs of the Times”—that could be the theme for the summer of 2024. Not to mention the preceding decade. And, to be sure, our three Scripture readings all have something to do with “signs” of one kind or another.

In today’s passage from Matthew, Jesus sees a sign in his anointing by the woman with the alabaster jar—a sign pointing to his own imminent death.

In Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones, a sign is given to the defeated and exiled peoples of Judah and Samaria, who have been crushed under the heel of the Babylonian empire. It is a sign of hope—hope that, through the power of God, the bleached bones of their dead nations would one day live again.

And in the 21st chapter of Luke, Jesus responds to a question from his disciples, who have asked him what signs would precede the “end.” Probably, this is what most of us are thinking about when we refer to “signs of the times”—we really mean “signs of the end.”

But what do we mean when we speak of “the end?”

Well, we probably mean that time referred to in the Apostles’ Creed where it says that “Christ shall come again to judge the living and the dead.”

It is a day of both judgment and transformation, when God will bring an end to warring factions and divisions based upon race and ideology and national origin. On that day—the “Day of the Lord”—God will forever do away with warfare and every form of violence.

This idyllic vision points to a time when all lives will be lived with God at the centre, and all other things in balance. God will judge the unrighteous, destroy evil once and for all, put an end to death and suffering, and establish his rule and dominion over all the earth.

If you don’t read the Luke passage carefully, it can sound like this is what Jesus is talking about when—standing in the temple precincts—he tells his disciples that the day is coming “when not one stone [of the temple] will be left upon another.”

Now, such words may sound like a foretelling of the coming of the Day of the Lord—but they are not!

Jesus is not talking about the Day of the Lord, but about the time before the final day—the “time between time,” if you will. He makes that clear when he warns that those who say the end is near are wrong. And he warns us: “Do not go after them.”

Jesus, of course, always tended to brush off people’s questions about signs—especially signs about the Day of the Lord. He insisted that no such sign would be given, except for the “sign of Jonah,” the very sign he was living out as he preached to the people of Jerusalem in those final days before his own death and resurrection.

However, to prevent people from being misled, he identified a number of things which would take place before the temple’s destruction, quickly adding: “but the end will not follow immediately.”

So the first thing for us to recognize is that Jesus is not talking about the “Day,” but about the days between now and then—in other words, the time the people of God have been living in ever since his Ascension. Jesus’ words on the signs of the times are about our times, today.

Jesus warns of false prophets and charlatans—and they did appear on the scene, claiming to be him and exploiting people’s fears and anxieties. They still appear. In fact, in times of crisis, they seem to show up by the busload. I guess that’s not surprising. When people feel like they are dry bones—or fear that they soon will be—they become desperate for words from a prophet. And for many of us, any prophet will do.

Yet Jesus’ words are clear: “do not go after them.” Do not be distracted or misled by them. There is work here to do, and this kind of speculation only serves to take us away from our mission as the people of God. Ignore the false prophet who claims to be “the chosen one.”

Cataclysmic events, both natural and international, are not a sign the end is near. Wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues, dreadful portents and other great signs from heaven will continue to occur.

But you know, these signs are so general that they could be applied to almost any day and any age—and they are anything but signs that the end is near.

No. To the contrary, they are signs that the end still lies in the distant future; Jesus says as much. For us, they are not only the stuff of our nightly newscasts, but also signs that we cannot bury our heads in religious sand. We must not retreat from the headlines. We must not let the world go to hell in a hand-basket.

Why? Because we are still God’s stewards of life. We are still bearers of good news. We are still the ones to whom God looks for the implementation of his justice and of his mercy.

We are still bearers of the power and presence of God. The headlines are not signs of the future day, but signs that it is time for you and for me to invest in God’s future and follow Jesus ever more closely—here and now.

That is what stewardship is all about: following Jesus Christ more seriously in every area of our lives—even our finances, even when times are hard—because hard times are always God’s times.

Hardship is an occasion for witness. For more than 2,000 years, people have been giving in costly ways for this gospel: not just of their time, talent and treasure, but their very lives.

Jesus’ words about the signs of the times are not about “the day,” but about today. Today, we are called to be faithful witnesses—no matter what.

When famine, plague, wars, insurrections, and earthquakes occur, these are not signs of Christ’s imminent coming.

Rather, they are signs that we need to become true disciples of Jesus—feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, working to overcome sickness and death.

Famine, plague, war, insurrection, earthquakes—these are all signs that the church still has a gospel of salvation to proclaim. We are to be members of Christ’s body, entering into life’s storms and crying out, “Peace, be still.”

Signs of the times; they call us to silence the storm, to calm the waters, to pour out the oil of mercy in wounded places. In the midst of hardship, Jesus calls us to wait upon him—and he promises us that we will prevail.

Through such endurance, through such stewardship, through such faith and faithfulness, Jesus promises that we will not only save the lives of others, we will gain our own as well. And that, my friends, is what makes the good news … good news!

Thanks be to God. Amen.

BEING WHAT WE ARE

Now I should remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.

For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to someone untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace towards me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe.

— 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 (NRSV)

 

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and [God’s] grace toward me has not been in vain.” (v. 15)

It is very easy to read right past this little sentence, buried in the middle of Paul’s proclamation of the resurrection. It is easy to get caught up in his passionate defence and his historical synopsis of the events which he relates as proof of the gospel promise.

In the spiritual life, there is always the temptation to allow the easy intellectualization of doctrine to take the place of the harder work which leads to a personal experience of the living Christ. Eloquence and rhetoric too often serve as substitutes for the intimate love which is found in relationship with the Redeeming One.

That’s why this little sentence is so enormously important. “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and [God’s] grace toward me has not been in vain.”

That statement is really the point of everything Paul is proclaiming about the resurrection. This sentence explains why the promise of God in Jesus Christ is so powerful—why the promise of life beyond the temporal and material is so earth-shattering.

It is a promise of infinitely-recurring abundant renewal. It is a statement about the transformative power of God’s grace—and a profound affirmation that such grace is never in vain.

We can test its importance by asking the simple question, “Could I make the same claim?”

I suspect that many of us would have a hard time saying with any conviction that “by the grace of God I am what I am.” We are more likely to attribute our intelligence, physical attributes, or good health to our genes. We are more likely to attribute our gifts and strengths to personal attention and to wise decisions about schooling or training. And likely, when it comes to our achievements, we give the credit to our own hard work.

Not very often do we thank God or praise God for the complexity and wholeness of our very being.

However, even those of us who do see our lives as an outpouring of God’s love and abundance—as a statement about who God is, rather than an opportunity to feel self-satisfied—might have trouble with the second part of the sentence: and [God’s] grace toward me has not been in vain.”

We are only too well aware of the compromises that mark our decisions and choices. I suspect that few of us truly live—with any consistency—the values which we know to be the highest.

I suspect few of us own the radically subversive message of the gospel as the pole star by which we navigate our spiritual journey.

Yet the promise of the resurrection is all about being changed so that what we are is a reflection of God’s desire for us. Changed so that what we do manifests that holy desire in ways that co-create, that redeem, and that sustain wholeness and holiness within creation.

The resurrection is not merely about how God responded to Jesus. It is not merely about Jesus’ commitment to embody God’s desire upon the earth. No.

The resurrection must be about us, or else it has no meaning for us. If Jesus—and Jesus alone—is to be raised into oneness with God, then our whole “faith” is about a historical event that is over and done with.

The resurrection is the promise that the power of God will always be stronger than the brokenness of the world. It is the promise that the power of God will always be broader than human possibilities.

It was God’s power working in Jesus that raised him from death. It is the profound identity that Jesus was willing to claim with God that could not stay dead, even when the body had been slain.

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and [God’s] grace toward me has not been in vain.”

Paul’s statement tells us where we are to ground ourselves if we are to be faithful people of God. It tells us who we are to be as a people professing God’s incarnation and the resurrection God offers.

In our daily routine, we are called to be who we are in God’s eyes. We are called to be people who are liberated from slavery to any destructive force, whether it is:

• Love of money;
• Lust for power;
• Addictions—whether to substances, or gaming, or persons, or control;
• Eating disorders;
• Pornography; or a myriad of other things, including the most destructive of them all …
• Self-righteousness.

We are called to be people who are set free from imprisonment in prejudice or hatred; in anger, greed, lust, or violence; in apathy or self-serving.

God calls us to be people who are strong in generosity and compassion, in purity and love, in holiness and mercy—reflecting the One in whose image we are created.

We are to be people who act on behalf of justice and equity and respect, on behalf of human dignity, on behalf of gentle inter-dependence with the other species who share this world—and with the earth itself.

We are called to reflect God’s own tenderness toward all creation—for we are God’s hope for its health and abundance.

Who we are by God’s grace are people whose lives enable God’s being to be revealed in the moments and the movements of time.

And we are to be people who can claim that God’s grace toward us has not been in vain.

Of course we will make mistakes—just as Paul did—but we are to be people who, again and again, reach beyond those mistakes to the vision of who God sees us to be.

We are not perfect, but we are people who seek over and over to act in such ways that God’s perfection can be glimpsed through us.

When we are willing to live so that God’s grace in us has not been in vain, then we are living in a deep and abiding relationship with God. And that is the building material from which God’s realm will be crafted.

Then—and only then—will the power of God be so intense within the boundaries of the universe, that time will stop. Time will stop because nothing can die any longer. Then our belief in the resurrection will become abundant reality—for all that was, and is, and is to be. Amen.

NAAMAN AND ELISHA

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master and in high favor, because by him the Lord had given victory to Syria. He was a mighty man of valor, but he was a leper. Now the Syrians on one of their raids had carried off a little girl from the land of Israel, and she worked in the service of Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord, “Thus and so spoke the girl from the land of Israel.” And the king of Syria said, “Go now, and I will send a letter to the king of Israel.”

So he went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten changes of clothing.* And he brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you Naaman my servant, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” And when the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to kill and to make alive, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Only consider, and see how he is seeking a quarrel with me.”

But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent to the king, saying, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come now to me, that he may know that there is a prophet in Israel.” So Naaman came with his horses and chariots and stood at the door of Elisha’s house.  And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?” So he turned and went away in a rage. But his servants came near and said to him, “My father, it is a great word the prophet has spoken to you; will you not do it? Has he actually said to you, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God, and his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean. (2 Kings 5:1-14, ESV)

* “ten talents of silver” and “six thousand shekels of gold” would amount to over $7.5 million today (2024)

The formula was simple. A child could understand it. “Go wash yourself in the Jordan seven times, and you will be made clean.” However, the person receiving this simple formula was not a simple man. Naaman was a great general in the Syrian army. We know he must have been a great general because he was the commander of the king’s army even though he was a leper—despite having this terrible and dreaded skin disease.

Had Naaman been an Israelite, his leprosy would have forced him to live apart from everyone else. Apparently, as a Syrian, he did not have to live in quarantine—but his disease was still considered both hideous and incurable. According to our passage from Second Kings, he was willing to pay millions of dollars, if only his affliction could be relieved.

After a couple of twists in the story, Naaman arrives at the house of Elisha the prophet, gold and silver in hand, ready to pay for the cure he so desperately needs. But, guess what? Elisha won’t even come to the door! Instead, Elisha sends a messenger to give the great general the simple formula: “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and you will be healed.”

Well, Naaman is furious! What a snub! He has travelled a great distance to obtain a cure for his dreadful condition. He is prepared to pay a fortune for it, and—as one of his servants points out—he is willing to perform any number of difficult tasks to receive this gift from God. But all Elisha tells him is: “Go and wash in the river, and you will be healed.”

It was all too simple. Naaman thought Elisha was mocking him, trying to make him appear foolish. The great Syrian general—bathing in the muddy waters of the Jordan because a Hebrew prophet said so. Fortunately, Naaman’s servants manage to persuade him, and the Bible tells us that he emerged from the waters not only healed in his body, but also giving praise to the one true God of all the earth.

You know, I can sympathize with Naaman. Sure, he was an arrogant so-and-so … but so was Elisha. And the prophet’s remedy really did seem too simple. Ridiculous, even! But it worked. Naaman was healed.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve done what Naaman did—over and over again. I’ve done the hard stuff and skipped the simple things. If something looked too simple, I figured it was unimportant—so I skipped it. I could do years of university-level theological study, but not bother with half an hour a day of silent prayer. Too simple to bother with. I didn’t bother with such things for years because they were so simple I did not imagine they could have any value.

But when you think about relationships—whether with God or with another person—it’s the simple things that determine whether they are healthy relationships. If, in relating to your spouse, you put all your energy into the big events—the birth of a baby or an annual holiday or a Valentine’s dinner—but forget about the ordinary, day-to-day, little kindnesses … Well, the relationship won’t last very long. It’s the ongoing small things—things that seem too simple to bother with—that keep the relationship alive.

You know, most of what we do in church—Sunday by Sunday—is relatively simple. In worship, we simply gather with our friends, sing some songs, say some prayers, listen to some Bible stories, spend some time in silence, maybe break some bread. All very simple stuff. Perhaps Naaman wouldn’t have bothered. Perhaps sometimes we wonder why we bother! But remember how Naaman was healed.

In between our Sunday gatherings, there are lots of simple little things that are easy to overlook, and not get around to. Prayer is one of those things. It ought to be part of everyone’s daily routine—and yet, I suspect that many of us try to make the weekly church service carry the weight of our entire prayer life.

However, much of the value of the worship service is actually rests upon foundations of regular prayer and Bible study that we build in to the rest of our week. Yet, strangely, most of us would find it easier to enroll in a demanding and expensive course on spirituality somewhere than we would to spend even 30 minutes a day reading Scripture and talking to the Lord. Those simple little things seem so unlikely to yield any benefits, and those big impressive things appear so much more promising.

But remember Elijah—who was Elisha’s predecessor and mentor. Elijah did not hear the voice of God in the storm or the earthquake or the fire, but in the sound of utter silence (1 Kings 19:11-13). And Naaman was not healed by paying millions of dollars and performing some great act of devotion. No. He was healed when he swallowed his pride and applied himself to the simple and the small.

The road to life in all its fullness is made up of a whole bunch of little steps, most of them seemingly insignificant—even irrelevant to our hoped-for destination. A dip in some ordinary water. Listening to stories from long ago. Some regular silence and prayer and study. Sharing ordinary bread and a shot of grape juice.

As Paul said in his letter to the Galatians (6:12-15), there will always be people trying to complicate matters by telling us we need to add this or that or the other thing—bigger, more impressive things. All that really matters though, Paul says, is that you are a new creation.

And as Jesus said once (Luke 10:1-11, 16-20), even though you might occasionally see some spectacular results as you minister for him, don’t make that the measure of your relationship with God. The real cause for celebration is that our names are written in heaven.

It might seem ridiculously simple next to watching Satan fall from heaven like lightning—or being able to cast out demons. It might seem too simple to be of any consequence …

But remember how Naaman was healed. Remember, and do likewise.

A COMMUNION MEDITATION

TEXTS: John 6:24-35 and Ephesians 4:1-16

 

Come in, come in and sit down,

you are a part of the family.

We are lost and we are found,

and we are a part of the family.

 

There’s life to be shared in the bread and the wine;

we are the branches, Christ is the vine.

This is God’s temple, it’s not yours or mine,

but we are a part of the family. *

 

I think Jim Manley’s joyful song is the perfect opening hymn—especially for a Communion service.

“Come in, come in and sit down …” Why?

Because “you are a part of the family.”

Families are great, aren’t they? At least, most of the time, they are. But then, there are those relatives who …

Well, there are relatives like my brother-in-law Tim. When our son Samuel was six years old, somehow or other Iris and I thought it would be a good idea to leave “uncle Tim” in charge of him for a day.

So, what happened? Well … it’s like this …

For lunch or dinner or some meal (I can’t exactly remember), Tim decided they should both go to a restaurant.

To what kind of restaurant would you take a small child? Chuck E. Cheese? McDonald’s, perhaps? Or Denny’s?

Tim took Sam to a very high-end eatery. You know—the kind of place where you’re met at the door by a maître d’.

Yeah. I’m surprised they’d let a six-year-old boy in to a place like that. It’s not exactly “family dining.”

Anyway, to make a long story short … Tim wanted to expose Sam to some of the finer things in life. So he ordered a plate of escargots. That’s right. Snails. Sautéed in garlic butter.

I have to say … I am 70 years old now, and to this day, I still have not been able to bring myself to try fried snails. Call them by whatever elegant French name you want to, I immediately think of slugs in the garden! And that puts me off.

Apparently, Sam wasn’t too keen on the idea, either, at first. But then uncle Tim offered my son the one thing he’s never been able to resist: cold, hard cash! Tim told Sam he’d give him a toonie if he’d try one—and that was all it took. Down the hatch went the sautéed snail. And then another. And another. Turns out Sam really liked escargots! Who’d have guessed it?

Fried snails instantly became Sam’s favourite thing. He would actually ask for them—and beg to go to places where we could get them. I think they remained Sam’s favourite thing until he started having to pay for them himself.

Do you know how expensive those things are? A saucer with four fried snails in it can cost you 20 bucks!

THANKS A LOT, UNCLE TIM!

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus says, “I am the bread of life.”

Jesus does not say, “I am the escargot of life,” or “the rich semisweet dark chocolate of life,” or “the medium rare standing rib roast of life.” Nor does he compare himself to a bucket of KFC. No. Jesus says, “I am the bread of Life.”

Bread. Certainly not disgusting. But nothing fancy, either. Ordinary, everyday bread. Every culture, it seems, has some kind of bread. As a dietary staple, bread is common—and yet it is also uncommon because it has so many varieties. There’s white bread, whole-wheat bread, pumpernickel, French, Italian, pita, tortilla, sourdough, gluten-free … and the list goes on and on. Say the word “bread” and chances are some pleasant image—or taste, or smell, or texture—quickly comes to mind.

But listen carefully to what Jesus says:

“Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal … Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world … I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:27, 32-33, 35).

All of those other breads will quickly grow stale and mouldy. Even the manna from heaven that fed the Hebrews in the wilderness was temporary.

Remember that story from the Book of Exodus? In chapter 16, we read about the miraculous bread that fell from heaven to sustain the children of Israel in the desert. And it didn’t cost twenty dollars a plate! It was free for the asking—but God warned the people not to try to hoard it or keep the leftovers until morning. If they did, the Bible tells us that “it bred worms and became foul” (Exodus 16:20).

Jesus came offering a new and different kind of bread—bread that will not go bad or get stale, bread that is not temporary, bread that nourishes perpetually and lasts forever. This bread encourages and preserves hope. Where there is life, there is hope. The bread of life is the bread of hope.

Human beings have always craved the bread of hope. We still do. And yet, so very many people today live—or rather, exist—without the bread of hope. So very many of us live hope-deficient lives. We all know people like this. Their spirits are pale and gaunt from lack of sustenance. Some of them suffer from eating disorders as they try to fill their empty lives with food that does not satisfy.

Others search endlessly for “Prince Charming”—or “the girl of their dreams”—to bring the delicacies of romantic love that will make all their loneliness and insecurities disappear. Still others gorge themselves on material possessions only to discover that more is never enough.

Like starving children with swollen bellies, they live as if they were simply waiting to die. They live in a state of desolate alienation: estranged from family and loved ones—estranged from their parents, or children, or spouse; estranged from old friends; estranged, even, from themselves. But, most of all, estranged from God. Hopelessness breeds this kind of alienation—and alienation, inevitably, starves the human soul.

In our text from John, we follow up on last week’s reading, where Jesus fed 5,000 people with five barley loaves and two fish. Remember? Now these people were sticking to him like glue. The miracle of the loaves reminded them of the manna in the wilderness. “Could this man be the new Moses? Could this guy work wonders for us?”

So they demanded that Jesus prove himself by making some bread from heaven rise up on the spot. Jesus ignored that request, and instead he offered them … himself.

But this was not at all what they had in mind. A relationship with this traveling preacher? What good is that? They were thinking more along the lines of escargot, prime rib, and semisweet dark chocolate. They wanted good food and great wonders. They wanted miracles on demand. They wanted that bucket of KFC!

So Jesus tries to correct their faulty suppositions. He tells them: “It was God—not Moses—who gave the manna in the wilderness, and it’s God who gives the true bread from heaven, the bread that gives life to the world.”

“Give us some of that bread!”

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35).

Unfortunately, that remark just confused them. But maybe we are confused, also. How exactly is Jesus the bread of Life? And how is Jesus like—and not like—the manna in the wilderness?

Well, Jesus is like manna in that, through him, God reminds us that we live because God provides! Not necessarily what we want—but exactly what we need: some food, some love, some breath, some water. More than that, God offers us a relationship with the One who is the bread from heaven. And here’s where Jesus is markedly different from the manna in the wilderness; because it is through this relationship that he sustains us. In Christ, God comes to reconcile us to himself. In Christ, the Holy Spirit works to heal our alienation—to put an end to our estrangement.

There are all kinds of reasons people become estranged from one another and from God. None of us are immune to broken relationships. And yet relationships are as necessary for life as is bread.

That’s how we have been created. We need to be in relationship to be fully human. Yet—as we know all too well—the fabric of relationships can be as thin as tissue paper.

God knows this, too. God knows how fragile our relationships are—how fragile our very lives are—and he knows that we need to be fed continually. That’s why God sends the bread from heaven in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

In Jesus, God comes as the Bread of Life: as sustenance for the sickly and sequestered; as a banquet for the bereaved and bottomed-out; as a feast for the forlorn and forsaken.

In Jesus, God leaves a trail of breadcrumbs leading out of the desert of hopelessness and estrangement—and into relationship, into community; a trail of bread crumbs to guide us home.

When we start picking up and eating those tiny bread crumbs of life, something astonishing happens.

When we partake of the hope, and peace, and unconditional love that is Jesus Christ, we come to realize—maybe for the first time—that the very presence of this bread means that there is no disagreement, no argument, no sin big enough or bad enough to make God stop loving us.

This bread is not only an invitation to life, it is life! This bread gives us life because it is our hope. It is the very life of God made real in our human experience.

• Wherever there is humility,
• Wherever there is gentleness,
• Wherever there is patience,
• Wherever there is unity in the Spirit,
• Wherever there is peace,
• Wherever there is truth spoken in love …

Wherever—as Paul said—we are called to one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism … there … in that place, we feast upon the bread of life (Eph. 4:1-3).

Wherever love triumphs over human sinfulness, estrangement, and hopelessness—wherever the walls of alienation are broken down—there is the bread of life, there is God’s own life given to us and for us.

And if that’s what God has done for us in Christ, if that’s how God feels about us—if God is truly unwilling to let sin and estrangement be the focus of our existence; if God instead chooses to feed us the bread of life … How shall we respond? How shall we live?

Will we let petty differences undermine our relationships? Will we let our disagreements cause separation and estrangement? Will we nurse grudges and coddle resentment and chew upon controversy like so much worthless gristle?

Or will we live lives worthy of our calling, imitating the One whose overcoming love rises like bread?

In Jesus Christ, the bread of life rises. It rises to overcome everything that would separate us from God and from one another. In him, the bread of life rises to conquer even death itself.

Even now, the aroma of freshly-baked bread is wafting down from heaven’s kitchen. And soon, a breadcrumb trail will lead us out into the world.

May we be nourished and empowered by this gift of bread—this Bread of Life.

May we rise up and live out the unconditional love baked into our souls through our relationship with Christ.

For in Christ, God has proclaimed a feast of the heart. In Christ, God provides the Bread of Life to nourish and sustain us—in all of our relationships, at all times and in all places … in this world and the next. What greater blessing could we ask for? Amen.

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* “Come In, Come In and Sit Down” Words and Music by James K. Manley. Copyright ©1984 James K. Manley