Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 19, Year A

The Calm After the Storm

Readings: Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28; Psalm 105:1-6, 16-22, 45c; Romans 10:5-15; Matthew 14:22-33

Karl Barth writes about fear: “Fear is the shock caused by the supposed knowledge that I shall not be able either to be or to do what I should be and do in face of that which gloriously and fearfully confronts me.” We have all faced times of fear in our lives, events that made time seem to last forever, when we thought that our very lives were in the balance.

I think of the times that I have been most fearful. One is the event that led to my learning to swim. I was four years old and at a camp where my father was the chaplain. I did many of the activities of the campers, who were, of course, quite a bit older than I. Each day I would go swimming. I would paddle in the shallow water and play in the sand. I watched the children in their free time going down a slide into the water. I longed to try it out. So one day I asked the swimming instructor if I could go down the slide. “Of course!” she said to me, not thinking about how small I was, or the fact that I couldn’t swim. I flew down the slide and out into water that was quite deep. I felt myself sink below the surface and was filled with fear and panic. In my panic I thrashed around for what seemed like hours but must have been less than a minute. Then I became calm. I remember thinking, “This is what it is like to die.” And suddenly I was buoyed up by the water and bobbed to the surface. Realizing that I could float, that I could trust the water to hold me up, I began to dog paddle to shallower water.

It was a good learning, because trust, that sense of calm, is what it takes after all when we get into that state of fear. And fear can easily take over when life seems out of control as our world so often does these days. It seems we live in a world filled with fear. It is often through fueling that fear that people come to power. We are faced with so much violence; war, terrorist acts, strange viruses and other health issues, economic and environmental issues. Consider what is going on in the world today with the bombastic rhetoric between President Trump and Chairman Kin Jung-li. Guam must be a very fearful place to live. Fear takes over unless we remember just who is in charge. We trust, knowing that God is as good as God’s word.

It seems to me that it is fear that is at the centre of the stories in Scripture today. There is first of all the story of Joseph and his coat of many colours. Joseph is the baby of the family. Being the youngest, he is a favourite with his father. To make matters worse, he makes a bad report to his father about one of his brothers. They fear the power and influence that he has over his father. They wait for an opportunity to get back at him. It comes. They are looking after the sheep in a remote place. Joseph comes out looking for them. They conspire to kill him. Reuben, one of the brothers persuades them not to kill him, but to put him into a pit. His intention is to come back and rescue him. Then they seize upon an opportunity. They sell their brother to a passing caravan of Ishmaelites on their way to Egypt where he faces slavery and imprisonment. This new saga in Joseph’s young life must have filled him with fear.

Then there is the gospel for today. Jesus performs miracles. He feeds the crowds. Their curiosity satisfied for the moment he sends them off to their homes. He also sends the disciples out in a boat. Meanwhile he heads away by himself to pray. The Sea of Galilee is known for its sudden fierce storms. This day is no exception. The disciples are far from the shore. The winds come up. The waves toss the small craft about until they are sure they will all drown. Towards morning they see Jesus walking on the sea. It is not a reassuring picture. They think that Jesus is a ghost. In fact, the storm becomes less threatening to them than the sight of the ghost. And Jesus speaks those reassuring words. “Take heart. Don’t be afraid!” They trust him. They trust the calm and peace that his words bring.

The ever-brash Peter gets out of the boat and walks across the water towards Jesus. What is he thinking? Does he think he can walk on water? Maybe he hopes that by stepping out on the sea it will be the act of courage he needs to find faith. Maybe Peter wonders if he will be convinced of Jesus’ promises if he thinks big. Perhaps he thinks that he will believe in himself if he is able to do what Jesus does. Whatever he is thinking, he gets distracted by the gusts of wind. He becomes frightened and begins to sink beneath the waves. Just as he thinks that all is lost he remembers. “Lord, save me!” he calls out.

We have all been there, haven’t we? We have all been out in those heavy waves, blown about by fierce winds. Life produces strong and daunting waves. We can all look back at times when we have felt swamped. We have felt totally inadequate. We have felt helpless. We have let our fears and worries take over. We have felt as if we are sinking. We want to believe, but our faith is fragile. Just when we think all is lost we remember. We cry out, “Lord, save me!”

Peter called out to Jesus; Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. They made it back into the boat safely. The storm ended. All was well.

When have you experienced inner calm and strength amid external turmoil? What was the source of your strength? What does it mean to trust God? How do you nourish your faith?

Some of you may be in the midst of a storm at this very moment. You may be buffeted about by the wind. You may fear the difficulties that you are facing in your life. You may be wondering how you can face another day, how you can ever trust again. You may be facing sickness, your own or that of a loved one. You may be unemployed, wondering where God is leading you. You may be facing a broken relationship.

Others could no doubt tell us about overcoming those same fears and inadequacies. You can tell us of the miracles that have unfolded for you in your lives. You can tell of the storms that you have walked through, knowing that God was ever present with you on your journey. You can tell us of sicknesses overcome, of answers to prayer, of help in time of need, of unexpected miracles.

Jesus asks Peter, “Why did you doubt?”

Faith, he is saying to Peter and to us, means living out of your heart. Fear destroys. Trust yourself. Trust that what you do and say makes a difference. Trust that Jesus is with you and trusts you. There are times when you will feel as if you are walking on water. There are other times when you feel yourself sinking beneath the waves. Both are times to put your trust in God. Daily life is not extraordinary acts of faith, but hoping for enough faith to give us courage to face life’s difficulties.

I can’t always say that I am glad to be one of Jesus’ disciples. There are times that I would like to be left alone. It is too overwhelming. There is too much going on in my life. Jesus is asking too much of me. My cross is too heavy. My faith is too weak. I have nothing more to give. All I have to support me is my weak faith. At such times it is all that I can do to pray, “God, help me! Give me the ability to reach out to you even though I have only my faltering faith to support me.” It is then that I hear that invitation that Jesus extended to Peter. “Come! Don’t be afraid. Reach out and take my hand.”

And I reach out. I acknowledge my helplessness. It opens some gate in me that accepts help. It opens the way for others to respond to my need. I experience God’s love and forgiveness and healing and challenge. I am able to see Christ in others and allow them to see Christ in me. Amen.

The 10th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17, Year C

Lord, Teach us to Pray

Readings: Colossians 2:6-15 (16-19); Luke 11:1-13

Jesus was praying, Luke tells us, in a ‘certain place’. I imagine him to be on a rolling hill by the Sea of Galilee. His disciples watch him at prayer with some interest. They see the serenity surrounding him as he prays. They want that same sense of peace. “Teach us to pray,” they say to him. Jesus responds with a prayer from his Jewish roots, a prayer that very much reflects his thoughts about who God is and the place God has in his life. He addresses God as Father. His prayer begins, not with his needs, but with his relationship with God. He prays that God will meet his needs. He prays to be a forgiving person. He prays not to be tested by life more than he can endure. They know from his prayer that Jesus is in a loving and intimate relationship with God, a relationship in which they want to share.

How did you learn to pray? I suspect that most of us in this church today learned to pray from our parents. I would also suspect that what we really learned was how to say some prayers. Speaking for myself, I would kneel at the side of the bed as my mother heard my prayers, simple prayers taught to me by rote. Somewhere along the way I learned to say the Lord’s Prayer. It became a routine. I would rattle it off without thinking about what I was saying. You see, I had not really learned how to pray.

Jesus continues in his teaching about prayer by telling a story. It is a story that paints the portrait of a loving God and offers instances of human generosity and the motives behind it. He tells of a person who will get out of bed and supply a friend’s need, not because he wants to get out of bed, but because the friend is persistent. A traveller has arrived unexpectedly on the man’s doorstep. He has nothing to feed him. He goes to his neighbour and bangs on the door. He wants his neighbour to give him some of tomorrow’s fresh bread. The family has already retired for the night. The gate is locked. It causes no small interruption. It wakes up the children and the dogs. It is stretching friendship a bit far. Jesus points out that hospitality is important enough, and the shame of not providing it was so great, that the poor man will get up, reluctantly, to respond to the request.

He is pointing out a simple truth about prayer. It is not the words that we pray that bring about some magical change in our lives. It is our attitude towards prayer. Prayer is intended to bring us into a closer relationship with God. It gives us the inclination to place every aspect of our lives in God’s presence and offer it in prayer. That means it is not enough to simply rattle off our prayers without really thinking about what we are saying, without allowing the words of the prayer to change our lives.

That seems simple enough, but this passage of Scripture as with many passages creates some real difficulties for people. “For everyone who asks receives,” Jesus continues in his story, “and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”

So Jesus, what do I say to the young woman who opens up to me telling me her story of years of sexual abuse at the hands of her father? “I prayed every day to God that he would stop, but he didn’t!” she told me. “Maybe I didn’t use the right words. It must have been my fault.”

What of the man suffering from years of depression who was convinced by a well-meaning friend to pray to God rather than take medication?

Or the young widow who prayed earnestly that her husband, dying of cancer would be healed. What do I tell her when she asks me, “Is it something he did? Am I being punished for my sins?”

What do I say to the family of the teenager hit by a car, praying desperately for a miracle as the doctor tells them that there is no hope and that life support is to be withdrawn?

What do we tell people whose loved ones have been massacred in one of too many attacks over the past few weeks?

Those fervent prayers cause crises of faith. Why did God not answer my prayer? Did God fail or did I? Is it lack of faith on my part? Did I do something wrong? Did I pray the wrong way or use the wrong words? Perhaps there is no God after all? And there are well-meaning people who are quick to blame victims for their lack of faith. What happens is part of the human tragedy. There are things that challenge our courage, trials of pain and suffering, of loss and bereavement. And all of us die. Some of us it is true, die all too young.

Jesus says that the answer lies in continuing to pray, in being persistent in our prayer life. In prayer we ask for what we need. We ask, not because God has some sort of ‘money-back’ guarantee. Nor is it about getting the pink Cadillac you have always wanted. We ask knowing that we are building a relationship with God. We ask knowing that God hears our prayers. We pray with a sense of assurance knowing that the gift of the Holy Spirit is a promise that God will keep. We pray in loving expectation for the responsive word of God to rise in our hearts.

As I reflect I think of three ways in which God responds to our prayers. All three are wonderful gifts. The first gift is the surprise we had not even considered asking for, but which delights us. God is constantly offering such gifts – a rainbow in the sky, a beautiful sunset, a kind glance from a friend, a smile from a stranger.

The second gift is just what we wanted. Sometimes God gives us what we want and pray for. Haven’t we all said, “That was an answer to prayer”? When that happens everything about it smacks of God. It happens at just the right time. We sometimes call it a coincidence, but for me it is God at work, a ‘God-incidence’.

The third gift is not at all what we wanted, but it becomes more valuable as we live with it. God may not respond to our prayers as we wish. We may hear God’s call through a word heard in passing. With time we may begin to value and understand God’s response. Sometimes we do not. In whatever way God succeeds in reaching into our hearts we may hear the voice of God. That gift of grace, that powerful love brings us to the feet of Jesus. There we sit quietly with him enjoying his company, knowing that God loves us and loving us cannot help but answer our prayer.

Jesus’ lesson to the disciples points out a deep truth. The answer to prayer comes about, not because we get it right, or because we are living better lives than everyone else. It is about persistence in prayer, not because we hope to tire God out in order to get what we want, but because in persisting we build a relationship with God. We make God a part of our lives. We make prayer a part of our lives. It becomes as natural to us as breathing. We open ourselves up to God and we let God do the rest. Amen

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 20, Year A

Only Human

Readings: Gen 45:1-15; Ps 133; Rom 11:1-2a, 29-32; Mt 15:21-28

Once again Jesus is trying to get away from the crowds. For someone in his position it is not an easy task. People follow him everywhere. They hope for a miracle, his healing touch, words of hope and wisdom. They constantly lay claim on Jesus’ time and energy. Even as he withdraws, a woman, a Canaanite, a Gentile, an outsider, comes after him shouting for help. Her daughter is ill.

He ignores her. He is weary. He just wants to get away from the crowds. He hopes that in ignoring her pleas she will give up and leave him alone. Maybe she will decide that it is not that urgent after all. Maybe she will think of someone else who can help. And after all, she is a Canaanite, a foreigner, and his ministry is to the people of Israel.

But she does not give up that easily. She keeps calling after Jesus until he and the disciples are beside themselves. “Send her away!” They say to Jesus. “She keeps shouting after us.” They are embarrassed by her outburst.

She pushes forward. Throwing herself down at Jesus’ feet, she pleads. “Lord, help me.”

There is sharpness to the point of rudeness, in Jesus’ response. It takes us aback. It is so unexpected. “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” he retorts. It does not deter her for one moment. She knows that Jesus can help her; in fact she is certain that he is the only one who can.

Still on her knees she responds, “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Her reply is piercing. Even if she must crawl and grovel to get help for her child she will do it. Her love for her child, her trust that Jesus can help, her determination to do whatever she needs to do, give her the strength to continue. Mothers with sick children are like that. They won’t let anything get in the way of taking care of their child. Not unsympathetic doctors, health regulations, lousy insurance, or even a narrow minded Messiah will stop them.

Jesus sees through to the faith of this woman that he is trying so desperately to ignore. He knows that he cannot ignore her need any longer. Compassion wells up in him. He gets beyond his weariness. He loses his frustration. God shines out from him.

“You have great faith,” he says to her. “What you have asked for is done.” Her daughter is healed at that very moment.

This is a difficult story, because Jesus is hard-hearted towards this woman, not treating her with compassion because her daughter is suffering, but ignoring her and refusing her because of her heritage. In the end, Jesus gets the last word, and it is gracious, quite a change from his earlier exchange with the woman.

It is Jesus at his most human. His response to the Canaanite woman is cultural. He is struggling against all the norms of his society. It shows itself in all sorts of attitudes that are typical of the Jewish society in which he lives. His comments are racist and exclusionary. Do we find it embarrassing that Jesus is so human? Or does it help us to look at our own prejudices and shortcomings and find a way to achieve a sense of compassion that enables us to reach out to those in need?

We do not have to look very far to find events that mirror such behaviour in our own society. Consider the flyers that were posted this past week on the York University Campus. They show images of what they claim were students at York in the 60’s, saying that the student population was totally white. Below is a photo of a more diverse group of students with text saying that whites will soon be in a minority. I am certain we are all appalled that such attitudes could possibly be held in a city as diverse as Toronto. But what about our own attitudes? Whom do we reject? Whom do we try to keep out? I look back at my own life and see many times when such cultural norms affected my views of the people around me.

I grew up in an inner city rectory before the era of food banks and shelters. There was a steady stream of homeless people at our door every day looking for help. We did what we could, often feeding them from our own table. It usually fell to the rectory children to make the sandwiches and coffee and take it out to them on the back verandah. For a time my mother had fed them in the kitchen, until one person let it slip that he had just got out of prison on murder charges. On the surface, what we did was good. It was certainly the best we could offer. We were taking action at a time when society did not take responsibility for homelessness and hunger. But when I reflect deeper I know that we failed to give them what they really needed. We didn’t see them as people. We never asked them their names, although we had nicknames for some of the regulars. There was Rudolf and Pinhead. How unkind that was! We did not try to change their situation. In fact, if anything we blamed them for their dysfunction.

When I was a theological student I did a placement at the Church of the Holy Trinity at the Eaton Centre as part of a program in Urban Ministry. I worked with the street people who frequent the area as part of an initiative of the local churches to find suitable housing for them. My job was to get to know them and talk to them about their housing needs. The biggest challenge for me, however, was to do a plunge, a requirement of the course. We had to spend one rather cold November weekend on the streets with only our own resources. I talked to the street people about what to do. They told me that I would not survive it, and then proceeded to tell me about the best shelters and gave me advice about how to ask for money. Their advice was excellent, I must say. I ended up staying in a shelter for abused women, a long story that I will not get into today. I was treated with kindness and respect. The other women in the shelter, as needy as they were, reached out to help me. One person truly befriended me, took me under her wing. She told me of her hopes of reuniting with her children. Her story was one of exclusion and hardship, and yet she was one of the most compassionate people I have ever met. She had a strong faith, not only that things were going to improve for her, but also faith in God. She invited me to go to church on Sunday morning. “You look like the kind of person who goes to church,” she said to me. And off we went dressed in our old ratty clothing. I don’t know what I had hoped for, but we ended up in a large prestigious church that will remain nameless. My inclination was to sneak into the back pew, but she was having nothing to do with that. She marched me up the aisle right to the front where she lustily sang every hymn, much to the consternation of the fine parishioners who tried very hard to ignore these two women who didn’t know their place. As I reflected on the experience I realized it was a transformative time in my life.

I must say, I still find times when it is difficult to get past my middle class views. Then I think back to the woman from the shelter, and I wonder how she is doing. And I smile thinking of how she pushed back against all of the preconceived notions of that congregation. I think of her faith and how much she had to overcome

The good news of the gospel is that we are only human. Jesus had to learn to put aside the prejudices of his upbringing. He had to learn to deal with people with a sense of compassion. Maybe there is hope for me. Maybe I can learn to follow his example. The Canaanite woman exercised an extraordinary power over Jesus. She nagged at him. She made demands. And yet at the core of it was her trust that he could make a difference in her life. She trusted that he could help her. She had faith. She kept on until she was heard.

Jesus dared to walk among us. He was trapped in our world. He was trapped in our ways. What hope that gives to us! Like Jesus, we can find the way to live compassionately. We can find the way to open our hearts to those in need. We can learn to risk. We can find the words and works that build up God’s realm. We can share one another’s pain. We can learn to see Christ in others. We can place all that we have and all that we are before God. Then we will begin to see the miracles happening in our own lives and those of others.

The 10th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18, Year C

When Does Need Become Greed

Readings: Hosea 11:1-11; Psalm 107:1-9, 43; Col 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

Ours is a very materialistic age. We want bigger and better homes so that we fill them with “stuff” and it is far more about what we want than what we need. Every once in a while we go on cleaning spree. We sort into what we can sell or give away. The rest we throw away only to buy more things to fill the void.

Thomas Merton known primarily for his more than seventy books, was a Trappist monk. He was preparing to leave his monastery in Kentucky to live alone. It had taken him some time to convince his abbot that living the life of a hermit was the right thing for him. Then on top of that there was the ordeal of moving. He describes it in his diary. It was a time of emptying of closets, of cleaning out of files and of leaving items behind. Many useful things he gave away. Some things he burned – the kinds of things that accumulate but have no purpose in your life. As he lit the fire and then watched all that “stuff” burn up, he experienced a deep sense of liberation. In the ashes, he left behind his past and began to start his new life.

In contrast there was an article a few years back about Oprah Winfrey. In the course of the interview it came out that although she is one of the wealthiest women in the world, yet she feels insecure about her future. She worries that she does not have enough. She worries that she will lose everything and become poor again. It says so much to me about the current attitude in our society. As North Americans we do not seem to know how much is enough. We seem to be far more concerned with our wants than we are with our needs. Materialism has overtaken spirituality. It has become a new religion. We measure success by what we have.

One of the real downsides is that sense of entitlement that is so prevalent amongst young people. “Life is short,” many seem to be saying. “Grab what you can. Get it and get it now.” There are, of course, personal consequences to such a philosophy. Debt! Even bankruptcy! On top of that, the consequences to society, loss of spiritual values, are inestimable.

Yet if you look at Scripture, the problem is not totally new. Just exacerbated by our ability to produce wealth!

A man came to Jesus with a request. “Make my brother share the family inheritance with me,” he demands. Jesus looks behind the request to something deeper. The request, after all, is only a symptom. He could referee the situation and resolve the immediate issue. Nothing would really change. And so Jesus refuses to get embroiled in the argument.

Instead he tells a parable. There is a rich farmer whose land is so prosperous that he has nowhere to store his grain. He does the prudent thing. He builds new and bigger barns. This done, one might imagine that he would sit back and really enjoy life. But no! His sole aim is to amass as much grain as possible. The unthinkable happens. He dies suddenly and without warning.

“What really is the problem?” you may be asking yourself. “It was simply good management on his part. He worked hard his whole life. He made a success of himself. It is tragic that he died before he could really enjoy the benefits of his hard work.”

By telling the story, Jesus is pointing out some important things. Here is a person who is equating material success with spiritual progress. Like so many people, he is saying: “I am prosperous, so God must be blessing me, rewarding me.” He is regarding his possessions as the ultimate measure and value of his life. Possessions are not in and of themselves evil. They could be used responsibly and become a blessing to society in so many ways. They could do so much good. But if building up his empire is the end goal, then it has impoverished him spiritually.

Like Oprah, he is worrying that he does not have enough. What should be worrying him is whether or not he is becoming the person God intends him to be. He should be asking who he is.

It is a vivid parable, not about an evil person, but about a foolish one. There is no problem with looking working hard. There is no problem in being prudent. There is no problem in being successful. It is good planning. It is common sense. But we need to continually ask ourselves at what cost we are prosperous? At what cost has it come to my life? At what cost has it come to my country? At what cost has it come to the world? Who is suffering for my success? And then we need to do something about it. There is a danger in becoming too materialistic. It is tragic when things take precedence over God and spiritual values. How do we refocus, put things into their proper perspective, so that we do not lose out on divine meaning and purpose and its order and joy in our lives?

That makes it a very contemporary problem. As Canadians we enjoy the best that this world has to offer. In the whole scheme of things we may not consider ourselves to be wealthy. But who of us in this parish does not have enough? And let us be honest about what is enough. Enough to put food on the table! Enough to clothe ourselves! Enough to provide shelter for our families! Enough to educate ourselves! Enough to keep ourselves healthy! Enough to share! Even enough to dream!

What we cannot allow to happen is for the dreams to take over lives. When does ‘need’ become ‘greed’? It is when we begin to see our wants as needs that we are in peril of losing ourselves. Then we are in peril of losing our spiritual connection to God. We are “storing up treasures for ourselves but are not rich toward God”.

So how do we ensure that we are “rich toward God”? What would our parish life be like if we were truly “rich toward God”? We are not a wealthy congregation. At least, that is what we seem to like to tell ourselves. Consider the riches of the members of this congregation. We have gifts and talents beyond measure. We have beautiful children and young people who bring such life and excitement into our worship. We have readers who bring the Word of God alive. We have lay readers who help to beautify our liturgies. And we have people who give faithfully of their treasures. Otherwise we would not be able to open our doors.

But we could do so much more! What riches do we bring to our local community? What do we bring in terms of knowledge, of income, of time? How can our gifts be used for the benefit of others? How are our gifts used to spread the message of the gospel?

We enjoy the abundance of God’s grace. Yet often we live as if we are impoverished. Let us, as a congregation, invest our time, our talents and our treasures wisely. Let us use our wealth to build up God’s realm. Let us be “rich toward God”!