The Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year B

God So Loved the World

Readings: Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

I recently came across a spectacular image of the earth from the perspective of the moon. The image was captured in February of 2014 by NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter. It looks like a tiny blue marble above the moon’s craters. It is one of twelve such “earthrises” that occur every day from the perspective of the moon. It gives me an overwhelming sense of the vastness of God’s creation and of our small part in it. It also gives me a sense of awe and wonder at the God who so lovingly created us.

Being loved is always a surprise. The very fact that someone chooses to love us is exciting. It supports us in what we do. It gives us new insight into our value as a human. Even when we recognize our self worth, being loved is still a startling experience. "Are we worthy of such devotion?" we wonder. "Will it last?"

It is no wonder then, that being loved by God comes as a great surprise to us. Paul says that we are created in Christ for good works. God has crafted us in God's own image. We are "works of art", part of a great masterpiece crafted by a genius artist. How hard it is to take in just how great that love is! Yet there it is. How much does God love us? God loves us enough to have created us. Not one mold, but each unique and wonderful. Each part of God's plan. What love that is! Genuine and real, the kind of love that resulted in something so great that it is beyond our imagination.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life." That is an amazing gift of love! A free gift! Love totally unmerited by us! The ultimate example of love! It is the pattern and model of the kind of love that we, as Christians, are called to show in our lives. And it is offered to every one of us.

It is probably the most cited verse of Scripture. All we need to do is say John 3:16 and people can recite every word. We make huge signs at ballgames to proclaim its message. But I wonder if we really believe it. Do we believe that God loves the world, or do we get some perverse enjoyment out of being reminded that we are saved while others are not? Do we really hear it as a statement about God’s love for the world? Or is it a threat for those unwilling to accept that love? Do we hear it as an invitation to participate in spreading God’s love? Or does it give us a reason to exclude those we think God does not love?

Many years ago I was playing the music at a retreat given by the then Primate, Ted Scott. One of the reflections was on this passage of Scripture. He asked us to recite the verse. Everyone in the room was able to do so. Like every good Anglican, we grew up hearing it as part of the Comfortable words. Then he asked us about John 3:17. There was a silence until I piped up. “He sent not his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.” You see, I had sung Stainer’s Crucifixion so often that the words came spontaneously. When he recovered that someone actually knew that verse, he challenged whether or not I had ever thought about what I was singing. And of course, I had not. He went on to reflect on how God became human not to condemn the world, but to experience life with us, to be God with us, to offer us the kind of love that results not in some future promise, but in relationship here and now. That is how God loves us. That is the love that we are called to share with a broken world.

Paul takes every opportunity to help us to understand that salvation is a free gift from God, a love gift. It is not something we have earned. It is not something we deserve. It is grace, freely given. He also emphasizes that, free though it may be, it is not without cost. Opening ourselves to the gift of God's love means that we cannot avoid the experience of the cross. Accepting the gift of God's love means opening ourselves to the possibility of suffering; it also means opening ourselves to the probability of great joy.

We just don't expect that in our lives. When we choose to follow Christ, we expect that it will mean an end to suffering. That it will mean that somehow we have tapped in to a magical way of avoiding anything bad happening. It will all work out like some Harlequin romance where every story has its happy ending.

The people of Israel thought that to follow in God's way would mean an end to suffering and tragedy. They discovered differently. As the time in the wilderness went on and on, they began to see that, just because it's free, does not mean it is without cost. "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?" they railed at Moses. "For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food."

What they are saying is that the manna that God has provided, the free gift of God's grace, is not enough. They want more.

Are we ever like that? Do we lose patience on the way to the Promised Land? It simply does not happen fast enough for us. Or the way we expected it to. Aren't we rather prone to wanting instant gratification for our every desire? We don't expect to continue to find ourselves wandering in the desert. We don't expect to meet with any adversity or trouble on the way.

The cross for the Christian is a sign of contradiction. What was once a sign of infamy and disgrace becomes a sign of vulnerability and love, the great love of a great God. The contradiction also arises because it came about through the sacrifice of Christ. It brings about suffering, but without it there can be no resurrection. The cross, a symbol of death, is for the Christian a symbol of resurrection.

"When I am lifted up from the earth,” Jesus says in the Gospel, “I shall draw all people to myself." Moses lifted up the brass serpent in the wilderness, and all those who looked at it were healed. Jesus was lifted up. All who believed were given eternal life. The cross is a call to wholeness in Christ. Belief in the crucified Lord calls us to repentance and healing. It calls us to respond, to respond with love for our neighbour. Not the neighbour I choose to love, not the one whose culture and race match mine, but the one whom God calls me to serve.

My neighbour is the addicted, the perverted, the selfish, the corrupted. My neighbour is the one of another faith. My neighbour is the one person in the parish that I just cannot stand. Our great God, who gave us such amazing love, calls us to extend that love to others. Through service we fulfill our call.

The realization that we are really loved by God is difficult to grasp. Yet the signs of God's love are all around us. The humanity of Christ is God's fullest sign of love for us. That Christ should live and die as one of us is a truly amazing sign. If we believe it, this sign should support, thrill, excite, and re-create us. It should be a constant reminder that we are truly loved.

The Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year C

Our Prodigal God

Readings: Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 34:1-8; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 22-32

All of us have key moments in our lives when we realize who we are and what we must do. All of the Scripture passages this morning illustrate such times. It is a new beginning for the people of Israel. They are poised between the wilderness and their first conquest in the new land. As they make the transition to their new life, they begin by taking the time to observe their traditions. For the people of Corinth it is a time of decision as Paul calls them to further their relationship with Christ. He wants them to understand what God has done for them. In the Gospel, Jesus tells that wonderfully familiar parable of the prodigal son, speaking to us of those moments of self-realization in our lives when we move from flight to return, from abandonment into discovery, from dying into living.

The parable is a familiar one. Yet in its familiarity it continues to speak to us on a deep level about our own lives and our relationship with a loving God. If we examine our lives we can see ourselves in the characters in the story.

There is first of all the younger child, the prodigal son. He does something unthinkable in a Jewish family. He demands that his father give him his inheritance. Think about it! What he is saying to his father is, "I wish you were already dead.'' He wants what is coming to him, and he wants it now. He wants to have it all now. He wants to see it all. He wants to explore it all. He wants all of life, and he wants it now. He has no regard for the consequences to his family. He is thinking only of himself. By his actions he cuts himself off from his whole family and even from the community. He severs every relationship in his life. And then he skips town with his new found wealth. He wants to get going, no matter where as long as it is away from home.

The story gets even more shocking. He is wantonly wasteful. He squanders his whole inheritance. He leads a dissolute life. In his new found sense of freedom, he goes all out. He spends money lavishly. He becomes a slave to his appetites until there is nothing left.

Just when you think things cannot get any worse for the son, they do. A famine hits the land. He has no money. He has no job. He has no prospects. He has no friends or relatives to fall back on. He hires himself on to the only job he can get, the lowest of jobs, this young Jewish man, feeding the pigs. He even envies the pigs their carob pods; the only time pigs will eat them is when there is nothing else to be had. He is totally lost.

Then he comes to his senses. Not that he is thinking about anyone else! He is still thinking only about himself. This is not a point of conversion in his life. It is simply a realization that there may be a way out of his troubles. He might even be able to maintain a sense of dignity and pride through it all. He will return home and offer himself as a servant. He is willing to work, grant you, but only on his own terms. He will save himself. He will have to ask for forgiveness, but he doesn’t need to mean it. Let us be clear about it! He is not repentant. At least not yet!

That brings us to the father. It is not until his father comes running out to him, arms open in forgiveness, that there is a change of heart in the son. “Father, I have sinned against you and against heaven,” he says to him.

And the father forgives him. Don’t we all expect something quite different to happen? Aren’t you just waiting for the father to pounce? Jesus audience would have been startled by the father’s behaviour. They would have been hanging on every word that Jesus spoke, certain that the young son was about to get everything he deserved and more. They fully expect to hear that the father has banished him forever, given him his just desserts. Yet where they expect judgement the father shows love; where they expect condemnation he shows compassion. This is, after all, no ordinary father. This is the prodigal father. Without any hesitation, he can forgive the wandering child and welcome him home. As his son was lavish in living, so the father is lavish in love. He is prodigal in mercy, and in grace. What a transforming gift that is for the son!

The father’s mercy extends to the older son as well. Truth to tell, he does not come up smelling like roses in the story. His younger brother spends his inheritance having a good time while he has been taking care of the family business. Then when he returns home, he gets all the attention. What about reaping what you sow? It just doesn’t seem fair. Shouldn’t he be paying for his sins instead of having a party?

The older brother asks for nothing. He wants nothing. He also enjoys nothing. He devotes himself to his father’s service. He never disobeys. Yet he is the centre of his every thought. He reacts with jealousy. “This son of yours…” he says. He is disappointed, to say the least. He fails to experience the loving relationship of a loving parent.

We may see ourselves like the younger son, wanting to live life recklessly. We may drift away from the faith. As the family grows up, somehow we get out of the habit of going to church. We intend to go. We sometimes yearn for the sense of community that we once had. But at the same time, it seems impossible to go back. We feel unworthy. We do not feel as if we belong. We do not see ourselves as beloved children. And so we stay away. That is somehow easier. For by staying away, we don’t risk being rejected. But if we go back, the parable assures us, God receives us back.

We may be rather like the older son, carrying resentments and jealousies. Here we are trying to serve God. Trying to do God’s work. Then the homeless, the addicted, the downtrodden, the hopeless sinners, get all the attention. “If I hear one more sermon about domestic violence or abuse!” “Where is the justice?” We ask. “Don’t I deserve more?”

In retreat a man was meditating on the story of the prodigal son. He used an etching Rembrandt once made of it with the father embracing his lost and found son. The man strongly identified with the younger son. It brought him with a jolt to the sudden realization that God forgave him. Even more he understood that God loved him. Then he had a further insight. It moved him to tears. He realized that the young son forgave himself. He accepted his shadow side and decided to do something about it. He loved himself as the father loved him. It lead him to the realization that he needed the same sense of forgiveness.

It is a profound learning. It is difficult to forgive others; it is much more difficult to forgive oneself. That is why it is one of the greatest gifts of healing that we could possibly receive. The sense of divine acceptance is so radical and sweeping that sometimes people cannot wrap their heads around it. It angers them. Like the older son they are filled with resentment and rage at a God who could possibly be so unfair as to offer forgiveness and grace so freely.

How like God! God gives us dangerous freedoms. God allows us to live our own lives. God entrusts the world into our hands, knowing that we are capable of destroying the wonderful work of creation. God welcomes sinners to the table. God offers us salvation, not because we deserve it. Not because we have earned it. Simply because God’s mercy extends to each of us.

This is a story that has the power to shock us. It has the power to offend. That is because it speaks to us of God’s free gift of grace. Grace not only has the power to offend us; it does when it is exercised. Let’s face it. Most of us want some assurance that our obedience and good behaviour and faithfulness to God actually count for something. We do not like to see someone get away with bad behaviour. The notion that God simply graces us, all of us, bothers many people. That is because we fail to understand the idea of free grace, of undying love.

At every turn God surprises us with grace. God is merciful and loving beyond all reason. The salvation that God offers us is more than a legal transaction; it is a loving relationship. Our prodigal God rushes out to meet us, bless us, reinstate us, and call us God’s own.

The Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year A

Now I See

Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

"For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light," Paul says to the Ephesians about the way of salvation. That theme of darkness and light is quite prevalent in Scriptures. Perhaps that is because it speaks to us on a deep level about our human condition. We know that when we are in the dark we grope for some sense of where we are. Who of us as children have not experienced the fear of darkness as we lay huddled in bed wondering what terrible creature lurked under us ready to pounce if we set foot on the floor? Light, even a small amount of light, helps us to get our bearings and recover our sense of direction.

We who are sighted can't really imagine what it is like to be blind. Perhaps you have seen the movie about the life of Helen Keller. She, as you will recall, was not only blind, but also deaf. Until her teacher opened the way for her to understand, to begin to see the light, she was locked inside herself, trapped like a frightened animal, unable to respond to the love of her family.

Sight is one of God's most precious gifts to us. To see the beauty of God’s creation, the oceans, mountains, lakes and trees, fills us with a sense of joy. Seeing our parents, our children, our friends, brings us happiness. To see where we can go, what we can do, and what we can make gives us a sense of freedom. We have sight, but often, as difficult as it is to understand, we simply do not see. We remain in the darkness. We miss the beauty in places and people. We are blind because we do not look. Not looking, being blind to the beauty around us, can make us miss many wonderful things.

Imagine being blind and spending one's entire life in the darkness. Imagine that darkness suddenly being lifted. For that is the scene in today's Gospel. Jesus heals a man who is born blind. The man actually receives much more than physical sight; he receives an insight that allows him to view Jesus, first as a good person, then as a prophet, and finally as the Messiah. "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he," Jesus tells him. It is a beautiful moment of faith and insight as the man chooses to come into the light and truly see with eyes of faith.

In so many seemingly ordinary moments, in so many disguises, Jesus stands before us offering us the opportunity of opening our eyes and seeing in a different way, seeing with eyes of faith. We see and seeing, we believe.

Not that it always happens that way! The Pharisees for example may enjoy physical sight but they are blind and choose to remain in ignorance and darkness. It comes out in their attitudes towards Jesus and towards the man born blind. “Who sinned?” they ask Jesus. “Who is to blame? Did he cause this or is it because of something that his parents did?” And when Jesus points out that suffering is not an arbitrary punishment from God they don’t get it. His blindness has to have been caused by some flaw in him or in his parents. They don’t recognize the person standing before them, sight restored. How many times have they passed by him without even a pitying glance as he sat by the gate looking for a handout? Have they ever really looked at him and seen a person with feelings and insights, with hopes and dreams? It is unbelievable to them that a blind beggar, nameless, not worth a second thought, could have been so blessed by God.

Paul writes to the Ephesians reflecting on spiritual blindness. He is quite clear about the responsibility of salvation. When we become enlightened we must live as children of light. Once we are offered the opportunity of seeing, then we must act on what we have witnessed and live as children of light.

Many choose to be blind, to live in darkness. In fact, like the Pharisees they may not even recognize their lack of insight. Don’t we all have blind spots? So the question for each one of us is, what darkness is there in our lives? Do we hide who we are or how we live? Do we live intentionally as Christians? Do we live authentically? What decisions change simply because we are Christians? Does it change the way we live, or the way we speak, the television programs we choose to watch, or how we make our decisions? Does it change our response to those in need or trouble? Do we look them in the eyes and see Christ in them? If it doesn't, are we living in the light? Are we living out our faith? Or are we simply deluding ourselves?

What blindness do we see around us? Have you ever heard as I have an attitude towards suffering that blames the victim? Many attitudes may be seen as a kind of blindness, not that it excuses the behaviour, just explains it. “Who sinned?” We get the mistaken notion that God causes suffering as punishment for the way we live our lives rather than seeing suffering as part of our human condition.

As humans we suffer from terminal blindness. There is simply no other way to explain so many of our attitudes. We are quick to condemn. We label. What a terrible thing that person must have done to be stricken with cancer! Or we blame God. How could God cause illness to strike that family? Why didn’t God stop the tsunami from killing all those people? Why doesn’t God end global warming?

Maybe the answer is, “I was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in me.” If we take that statement to its extreme we could say it of many facets of life. She was born into poverty so that God’s works might be revealed through her. Look at how she has overcome all of the odds. He was born homeless. She was born deaf. He was born a refugee. If there is any truth in it, then how do we begin to see what God is trying to reveal to us? How do we get out of the spiritual blindness that is so much a part of our society?

It truly is about allowing God to open our eyes. That is astonishing! By some miracle God has selected me enter into a personal relationship. By some miracle God has chosen you. God has opened our eyes. There before us stands Jesus. In so many seemingly ordinary moments, in so many disguises, Jesus is there speaking to us. We see, and seeing we believe. It is a beautiful moment of faith and insight that carries us through life.

Along with the seeing and believing comes responsibility. We choose to see. We choose not to remain in our blind state. We choose to hear the truth and to bear that truth into the world. God changes our notions and transforms us. What a miracle of God’s grace that is!

The Christian challenge is to overcome our blindness and live increasingly in the light of Christ. This involves a growing understanding of the truth revealed through Christ and a willingness to reflect it in the practical living of every day. When we are enlightened it becomes our responsibility. Because we know the love of God it is our responsibility to share that love. It is our responsibility to see other people as children of God. It is our responsibility to break down the barriers that cause hatred. It is our responsibility to speak out against injustice. It is our responsibility to see Christ in others. It is our responsibility to do everything we can to usher in God’s kingdom of Shalom.

Jesus loved the blind man enough to do what he could. Everyone else was sitting around wondering why he was blind and blaming him for his inability to see. We can expect God to respond to our problems with action in the same way that we are called to respond to the needs of others. And the wonder of it all is, that when we begin to open our eyes we will find that God’s ways are surprising. Shepherds become kings, blind people see, religious leaders are blind.

When we consider human suffering, it is good to remember that failures are not always just disasters. Jesus changed a disaster into good. A man’s blindness became a blessing. The work of God was displayed in his life. The light of Christ does not magically remove all of our ills and troubles; it enables us to experience them in a new way. Let us prayerfully do what we can to bring hope where there is none, and to bring light where there is darkness.

The Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year B

God's Gift of Love

Readings: Numbers 21:4-9; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

Many of us studying Theology at Trinity had unique ways of making ends meet. But Helen surely outdid the rest of us. We were always excited to hear a message come for her over the PA. "Helen! Your package has arrived." Then we would all rush to the Buttery - that's what the cafeteria at Trinity is called - to hear the latest installment. You see Helen edited Harlequin romances. I had never read one, deeming them unworthy of my time, but I must admit some fascination for them after her sharing so many with us. In fact, I found many of the stories touching. There is, after all, something universally appealing about a love story.

Being loved is always a surprise. The very fact that someone chooses to love us is exciting. It supports us in what we do. It gives us new insight into our value as a human. Even when we recognize our self worth, being loved is still a startling experience. "Are we worthy of such devotion?" we wonder. "Will it last?"

It is no wonder then, that being loved by God comes as a great surprise to us. Paul says that we are created in Christ for good works. God has crafted us in God's very image. We are "works of art", part of a great masterpiece crafted by a genius artist. How hard it is to take in just how great that love is! Yet there it is. How much does God love us? God loves us enough to have crafted us in that wonderful likeness. Not one mold, but each one of us uniquely wonderful! Each part of God's plan! What love that is! Not some Harlequin Romance kind of love, but genuine and real, the kind of love that resulted in a work of love so great that it is beyond our imagination.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life." That is amazing love! A free gift! A love totally unmerited by us! The ultimate example of love! It is the pattern and model of the kind of love that we, as Christians, are called to show in our lives. And it is offered to every one of us.

Lent is a time to reflect on God's great love. Yet love offered is not necessarily love accepted. The suitor can be spurned. We can say yes or no. And yes! There is a personal cost for the gift. Loving always comes at a cost to self. For the love so freely given to us, calls us in turn to come into relationship with our loving God, and to reach out in love to our neighbour.

Paul takes every opportunity to help us to understand that salvation is a free gift from God, a love gift. It is not something we have earned. It is not something we deserve. It is grace, freely given. He also emphasizes that, free though it may be, it is not without cost. Opening ourselves to the gift of God's love means that we cannot avoid the experience of the cross. Opening ourselves to the gift of God's love means opening ourselves to the possibility of suffering and to the probability of great joy.

We just don't expect that in our lives. When we choose to follow Christ, we expect that it will mean an end to suffering. That it will mean that somehow we have tapped in to a magical way of avoiding anything bad happening. It will all work out like the Harlequin romance where every story has its happy ending.

The people of Israel thought that to follow in God's way would mean an end to suffering and tragedy. They discovered differently. As the time in the wilderness went on and on, they began to see that, just because it's free, does not mean it is without cost. "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?" they railed at Moses. "There is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food."

What they are saying is that the manna which God has provided, the free gift of God's grace, is not enough. They expected more.

Are we ever like them? Do we lose patience on the way to the Promised Land? It simply does not happen fast enough for us. Or the way we expected it to. We live in a society that expects instant gratification. We have a sense of entitlement to all the good things in life. We expect to have everything and to have it all now! We don't expect to continue to find ourselves wandering in the desert. We don't expect to meet with adversity. We don’t expect to meet with trouble, sorrow, or hardship along the way.

The cross for the Christian is a sign of contradiction. What was once a sign of infamy and disgrace becomes a sign of vulnerability and love, the great love of a great God. The contradiction also arises because it came about through the sacrifice of Christ. It comes about through suffering, but without it there can be no resurrection. The cross, a symbol of death, is for the Christian a symbol of wholeness, of new life, of resurrection.

"When I am lifted up from the earth,” Jesus says in the Gospel, “I shall draw all people to myself." Moses lifted up the brass serpent in the wilderness, and all those who looked at it were healed. Jesus was lifted up. All who believed were given eternal life. The cross is a call to wholeness in Christ. Belief in the crucified Lord calls us to repentance and healing. It calls us to respond, to respond with love for our neighbour. Not the neighbour I choose to love. Not the one whose culture and race match mine, but the one God calls me to serve.
My neighbour is the addicted, the perverted, the selfish, the corrupted. My neighbour is the one of another faith. My neighbour is the one person whom I just cannot stand. Our great God, who gave us such amazing love, calls us to extend that love to others. Through service we fulfill our call.

The realization that we are really loved by God is difficult to grasp. Yet the signs of God's love are all around us. The humanity of Christ is God's fullest sign of love for us. That Christ should live and die as one of us is truly an amazing sign. If we believe it, this sign should support, thrill, excite, and re-create us, for we are truly loved.