St. Matthew the Apostle (Patronal Festival)

St. Matthew the Apostle
September 21, 2014

Responding to God’s Call

Readings: Proverbs 3:1-6; Psalm 119:33-40; 2 Timothy 3:144-17; Matthew 9:9-13

Today we celebrate our Patronal Festival, the Feast Day of St. Matthew for whom this parish is named. What we know of him comes from Scripture, from the Gospel according to Matthew, which is ascribed to him. The Gospel message today is one of inclusion and of living faithfully in response to God's call. Both are wonderful themes as we celebrate our Patronal Festival. They are also powerful reminders of the promises of our Baptism as we bring four people into the Body of Christ.

As Jesus was walking along, we are told, he saw a man called Matthew sitting in the tax booth. Jesus issued an invitation to him. "Follow me," he said, and the amazing thing was that Matthew got up from his work, immediately got up from what he was doing, and followed Jesus. He did not ask where they were going. He simply got up from his work and became a disciple of Jesus. Had he been waiting for that invitation? Had he witnessed the works of Jesus and the disciples? The simple fact of leaving what he was doing and following Jesus should amaze us, but there is more to the story. Matthew was a tax collector. Tax collectors were despised by the Jews so much so that they were disbarred from even walking in the door of the synagogue. They were considered unclean by Jewish law. You see, Jewish tax collectors worked for the Romans collecting Roman taxes. They made a healthy commission for their work and were the wealthiest people in town. We believe we are taxed heavily, but at least we receive the benefit of social services, whereas in Palestine the money went straight into the coffers of Imperial Rome. And the taxes were punitive. First and foremost, there was a Land tax, which would have provided the bulk of taxes gathered. It was linked to the amount of produce grown on a piece of farmland. In cities and towns it was replaced by a house tax. Secondly there was a head tax levied on males, and finally there was a Customs tax, which was likely what Matthew was collecting. These were collected on goods passing through city gates, and at ports on goods and produce coming ashore.

And yet incredible as it seems Jesus called Matthew, a tax collector, a social outcast, to become one of the twelve. Not only did he call him to be a disciple, he went to his home for a meal.

When we think of the word “call” our immediate response is likely that it refers to the call to ordained ministry, the call to be a priest or a deacon in the church. We do speak of our priestly vocation as a calling. But 'call' can also be translated 'invite'. Perhaps the most astounding fact of all history is the call of Christ, the invitation of Christ, to all of us sinful people to follow him. It is not an invitation to casual acquaintance or weekly worship. It is not an offer of help when we are in trouble. It is a call to follow, to love and to serve. It is an invitation issued to each one of us. It is an invitation that we celebrate today. As sponsors take on the responsibility for these three children, as Caitlin as an adult seeking Baptism takes on her Christian responsibility, as we renew the promises of our baptism, we are responding to the invitation of Christ.
So what does it all mean? What is baptism all about? Baptism is a radical moment in the lives of each of us. For by baptism, we share in the same relationship and mission that God had with Jesus. Baptism is a gift and a calling. It initiates the work of God and Christ in and through us. It commissions and empowers us for ministry. It is, if you will, our ordination as the people of God.

For most of us though, it does not seem to be a very radical occurrence. If you are a “cradle” Anglican, that is you have been an Anglican all of your life, it is highly unlikely that you even remember anything about your baptism. Your parents likely brought you for baptism as an infant. Your experience is probably rather like mine. I was baptised on the afternoon of May 24th in the little church in Byng. I was a little over a month old. My parents, Godparents, a few assorted relatives and my older siblings gathered around the font. I wore the family gown, as did my older siblings and seven generations of Smith’s before me. My father, an Anglican priest, sprinkled me with water. He had immersed my brother David, but was forbidden by my mother to ever again do that to one of her children. They named me Ann Martha. Then they had a family party. It does not seem very significant in the whole scale of things. There were no voices from heaven. There were no claps of thunder, although being the 24th of May there may have been fireworks. And yet my understanding is that something very significant happened that has sustained me my whole life. It made the death and resurrection of Christ applicable to my life. It identified me as Christ’s own. It is the most important event in my Christian life.

The first baby I baptised was when I was doing On Call Chaplaincy at Toronto General Hospital. She was premature and was not expected to survive and in fact, had been expected to be stillborn. The family had gathered together and wanted her to be named. We found a basin of water and I held her in my arms. She was so tiny she would have fit in one hand. There in that room with her mother, father, aunt and uncle she was named Katy Harper Hall. For a few minutes we were held in a bond of love that I have experienced very few times in my life. Katy's mother later shared with me that during the baptism she felt caught up into God's presence.

One of the most meaningful baptisms I have attended took place some years ago in the parish in which I was organist. A whole family – parents and two children – came for baptism. Some friends had brought the children to the church. They joined the choir and Sunday school and became quite active. Mother and father came to a potluck supper and were overwhelmed by the welcome they received from parishioners. They too became regular attendees at worship. They asked about receiving communion, and on discovering that baptism was the requirement asked that the whole family be baptised. The church was jammed that Sunday with supporters. It was a moving experience for all of us.

I use those illustrations this morning as examples of the place of baptism in the mission of the church. None of the examples represent mission in the sense we have come to expect of the word. But all three happened as a result of mission, of evangelism. There was no hell and brimstone preaching. There was no altar call. But there was mission. Like Jesus’ call to Matthew there was an invitation to come and see. There was a response – openness to the movement of the Holy Spirit in the life those who were baptised.

Shortly we will renew our baptismal covenant. We will affirm our faith. By water and Spirit we will bring into the family of God, four people. As they are baptised we take on a responsibility to continue to invite, to support and uphold them in their Christian journey. It is not easy to bring your children up in the church. It is not always easy to get yourself out to church. So many things keep us away; it takes commitment. So pray for them, encourage them to continue on the path they have begun.
Let us be as willing as Matthew to respond to the call of God. Let us follow in his footsteps as we grow in faith. Let us live out our Baptismal Covenant. Amen.

The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

Instruments of Peace

Readings: Job 9:1-16; Psalm 148:7-14; Galatians 6:14-18; Matthew 11:25-30

The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

When I was studying theology one of my assignments was to find the source of the Prayer of St. Francis, to trace it back to its origins. Having grown up listening the stories of St. Francis and in particular to “The Little Flowers”, I thought that it would be an easy task. I would simply look back through his writings and find the prayer. I found a lovely prayer of St. Francis. It was called “The Canticle of the Sun”. I recognized it right away. It is a favourite hymn. We know it as “All Creatures of our God and King”. No matter how hard I hunted through the writings of St. Francis I simply could not find what we know as his prayer.

Then in my research I began to come across some references to it. They were from the First World War. Strange! I thought, and continued to search thinking I must be mistaken. Everything bore it out. One story was that it was found in the trenches in France handwritten on a card bearing the picture of St. Francis of Assisi. It was published anonymously in 1912 in a French magazine, La Clochette and is possibly written by a Roman Catholic priest, Father Bouquerel. That it remained connected to our patron saint is no mystery. The prayer, if not written by him, certainly reflects his life. It reflects the way he lived. It reflects who he was.

He was an instrument of peace in a fractured world. To be an instrument of peace means to be an advocate of those in our society who are suffering, the poor, the hungry, the abused. Francis gave up a life of luxury and privilege to live in poverty and to help those who are on the very fringes of society. As a young man, he once came across a leper. He found himself totally repulsed by the man's condition. He fled in horror. But then thinking better of it, he went back, embraced the man and gave him all the money he had.

His sense of peace drew other like minded people to him. They embraced his way of life. He founded a religious order for men called the Friars Minor, the Poor Clares, an order for women, and the Third Order, a Franciscan order of lay people wanting to live a life of simplicity and dedication to the poor and those in need within the context of their own lives.

So many of the stories of his life speak of how he helped to light the spark of faith in peoples' lives. He said that we should “Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words.” One day he suggested to one of the novices that they go into town and preach. He was overjoyed at being asked by Francis to accompany him on this little mission. They walked together through every part of the town, finally returning to the monastery. The novice reminded Francis that they had gone out to preach, and had not spoken one word.

“My son,” Francis replied, “we have preached. We were preaching while we were walking. We have been seen by many; our behavior has been closely watched; it was thus that we have preached our morning sermon. It is of no use to walk anywhere to preach unless we preach everywhere as we walk.”

He knew the joy of embracing hope. It comes through in his love of all God's creation. Francis knew the awesome power of our creator God. His affinity with nature came from that deep love of God. Like the birds and animals with whom he communed, he lived a life unburdened by possession. He searched for perfect joy, not by owning things, but by owning nothing. His thankful heart did not come about by having possessions, but by abandoning things and embracing God. His call to us, “Don’t worry! Be happy!” speaks to our materialistic society of a more fulfilling, happier way to live. Joy for Francis lies in not having to worry about wealth.

Yet he also knew from his own life what it meant to despair. Some biographers have attributed it to his disillusionment at the behaviour of the Crusaders. Whatever caused it, he withdrew for a time from the world. It was St. Clare who was able to draw him out of his despair. Even at the darkest times of his life, times of pain, he felt that sense of divine joy.

One of the things that I find most reassuring about our patron saint, is his humanity. His is a story, not about some “holier than thou” saint, whom I can never hope to emulate, but of someone who is totally human in his becoming. Francis truly experienced reconciliation. He experienced the transformation that God can bring about through conversion.

Francis's conversion was a dramatic one. He was the son of a wealthy cloth merchant. He grew up with a life of ease and privilege. A time of sickness and a period of military service led him to reflect on his life. One day he was in the church of San Damiano. He heard Christ saying to him, "Francis, build my church." He took the words literally. He sold a bale of silk from his father's warehouse to pay for repairs to the church. His father was irate. He confronted him and disowned him for what he had done. Francis in turn renounced his father's wealth. He left his home and his life of luxury wearing only the clothes on his back. There is even a story that he took off all of his clothes so that he would take nothing with him of his old life. He declared himself "wedded to Lady Poverty", and devoted himself to serving the poor.

As Christians we are called to turn the world upside down, to bring about the impossible. Where there is hatred, to bring love. To bring resolution and peace where there is discord. To bring hope into lives that are living in despair. To bring light into a world of darkness. To change sadness into joy.

“Make me a channel of your peace” is our parish motto. It holds a wonderful truth about peace. We often think that we can do nothing to bring about peace. The world is in too much of a mess. I am only one person. I don’t know where to begin. But the reality of our faith is that we are not passive recipients, but active instruments of peace. That is so important for us to understand, to really take in.

What does it mean to be a channel of God’s peace in a broken and troubled world? The only way we can confront the difficulties and troubles of the world, the lack of peace, the disunity both in society and in the Christian Church, is by throwing off our helplessness and being bearers of peace, and of hope, and of love in the world. It begins by being bearers of peace in our own place. The call to peace is a call to justice. Differences, distinctions and divisions are present not only in society at large, but also within the Church. Such divisions can exclude people from fellowship within the community. We continue to face many important issues that could divide the Church. We need to search for common perspectives among our diverse theological approaches, as we keep alive the prophetic ministry of Christ. So Lord, make us channels of your peace.

Today we celebrate a wonderful saint. We celebrate the Good News of Christ. We worship God, serve our world and our community and strive to be instruments of peace. We know ourselves to be forgiven. We strive to be forgiving. As we travel on our journey we recognize our need to rebuild the Church of God. It starts with our church here in Meadowvale, this place that nurtures us. As we bring Grace into the communion of Christ, as we renew our baptismal covenant, we try to emulate our patron saint. We remember that it is not just about this building. It is about being the Church in the world. It is about our ministry together. It is about being a welcoming and nurturing community of faith. It is about serving beyond our four walls in our community. It is about openness to the Spirit of God working through us. It is about seeing Christ in others and allowing Christ to be seen in us.

May we grow in grace and in the likeness of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.