Proper 15, Year A

Let Anyone with Ears Listen!

Readings: Genesis 25:19-34; Psalm 119:105-112; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9, 16-23

When I was in my curacy I was given a simple but wonderful gift, a parishioner who gave me feedback on my sermons. This was not just a “nice sermon” kind of feedback; she had an uncanny ability to sum up the sermon in one sentence. That one sentence gave me insight into how my sermons were being heard. It was a good learning for a novice preacher. Sometimes I would say to myself, “She really got it!” Other times I would be puzzled by her interpretation of what I had said. In reflecting on the process I came to realize that the real message is not what is said, but what is heard.

I suspect that is why Jesus told parables such as the one in today’s Gospel. I also reasonably certain he did not intend his words to be interpreted on some grand scale. That is why I chose to read only the parable and not the explanation. Jesus’s story did not need anything more than the invitation that he issued “Let anyone with ears listen! Go off, think about the parable, let my words sink in, and then do something about it”, he is saying.

A large crowd has gathered to hear him speak. He gets into a boat and looks out the people. He sees many familiar faces amongst them. There are, of course, his disciples, his closest followers, the ones he has chosen. And there are others who stand out from the crowd. They are people who gather whenever he begins to speak. But there are many whom he has never noticed before. He recognizes the hunger and suffering that has brought them to this place. He sees the sense of hope in their eyes. "Let anyone with ears listen!" he says and they hear him. They know he is saying it to them.

He has much on his own mind – the difficulties in Nazareth, his hometown, people who think he is crazy, the constant harassment of the officials of the synagogue. All of these things he puts aside as he begins to speak. Knowing that even the disciples don't always understand he tells them a parable about a sower. He sees the farming people in the crowd relax. The picture he paints is familiar to them, part of their everyday life.

He talks of a sower sowing the seed. They can picture themselves walking through the unploughed field, scattering the good grain they have kept from the last harvest. There is lots of seed. They simply scatter it. They know some will land on the hardened soil that forms into paths through the fields. Some seed will get choked by the wild thorns that grow up again after the ploughing. There are stones just under the soil. You can never tell just where they are, out of sight until the field is ploughed. The seed that lands there will probably be wasted. But there is no way around it. Some seed even gets scattered to the very edge of the field. You cannot tell where the best places are to sow the seed. But there is plenty! You can afford to lose some. And some of it will produce even in the poorest soil.

How surprised they are to hear Jesus speak of the wonderful bounty of the harvest! Is it possible? Can you even imagine producing that kind of yield? Even when the harvest is small a farmer is able to put aside enough seed for the following year. What if the harvest was thirty times what was sown? A farmer could pay off debt, put in irrigation ditches and erect a new barn. With sixty times what was sown one would be the richest person in the area. And if it were ninety percent? Why with ninety percent a farmer would be able to export grain to other countries. He would own it all. What a dream! "Let anyone with ears listen!" They are all ears! Jesus is speaking to them.

For some time I had a little cottage up on Lake Simcoe. One day I watched my neighbour reseeding his lawn. He had a very small bag of seed that he was sprinkling here and there. This was not a well-manicured lawn that needed a little boost; there were more weeds than grass. I had read this week’s readings and was thinking in terms of the parable of the sower. I had to restrain myself from shouting out to him, “Get a huge bag of seed. Throw it everywhere on that lawn. Let anyone with ears listen!”

I feel like shouting out that same message this morning. Are we all ears? What is Jesus saying to us as individuals? Do we get it? Do we trust what we believe? I consider the rocks that I have encountered in my life, the roadblocks to being everything that God intends me to be. I think of the hard ground, the times when I wanted to shout at God “Are you even there?” I think of the weeds that I have allowed to grow up in my life, the failures and setbacks. And yet I know that despite all of those things God has been there for me, gracing my life, leading, guiding in ways that I was not even aware of until I looked back at where life had led. There were people who encouraged me in my life of faith. There were opportunities that opened up the way to do what God was calling me to do. There were ‘aha’ moments that allowed me glimpses of the glory of God so that I could hold on when life presented its twists and turns.

It is a message that I want to shout this morning. Are we all ears? What is Jesus saying to us? How do we, the Church – this church here in Oshawa, the churches in our Diocese, other denominations, churches throughout the world – hear what Jesus is saying? Do we get it or not? If we do get it why is the Church in such a state of decline? Do we sow enough seed? What kind of harvest do we expect?

What kind of harvest do you expect as a parish? This is a time of transition for you, a time of change. It is human nature not to embrace change, yet it can be a fruitful time in the life of a congregation. I see that in you. This is a congregation that knows how to look after one another, “the parish with a heart”. How do you turn that sense of belonging into something that extends into the community? How do you ensure that there are no poor in our parishes or neighbourhoods? How do you make it clear to all, both those in church and not, that something exciting is happening, growing and being produced? How do you become a committed community sharing the faith? What would happen if you managed all of that? People would be looking at you, saying, "Look at those Christians, how they love one another!"

What kind of harvest should we expect as the Christian Church in the world? How do we ensure that Christianity is a global force? How do we become a moral presence in all the countries of the world? How do we make our influence noticeable in politics, in education, in health care, and in economics? When we come together in solidarity we are able as a Church to do wonderful things. I have experienced it. A few years ago in an initiative largely undertaken by the World Council of Churches millions of people worldwide signed a document asking the G7 nations of the world to forgive debt. Six hundred thousand of them were Canadians, most of them from the Christian community. The most powerful nations in the world took note and listened. They were able, knowing that they had the backing of so many people in their own countries, to forgive enormous debts of the poorest nations of the world. But it was only a drop in the bucket. How much more we could accomplish! "Let anyone with ears listen!"

If we would believe the parable of the sower, although God does not seem to be at work in the world, although God does not seem to be in control, nevertheless, God's realm is coming. In its coming it will make up for all the failures and disappointments which have gone on before. We are assured of abundant success despite failure. We are privileged, graced by God, we Christians, to be bearers of God's truth in the world. We bear a message of great hope. "Let anyone with ears listen!"

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 Third Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 12), Year B

God’s Grace Amid Life’s Storms

Readings: 1 Samuel 17:32-49; Psalm 9:9-20; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

We all know and love the story of David and Goliath. I suspect we view it as a kind of fairy tale, but it truly does not have the elements of a fairy tale. It is a far more realistic story than say “Jack in the Beanstalk”. The powerful Philistine army is lined up on the hillside. The militia of Israel stand quivering on the other. They are afraid of the secret weapon of the Philistines, the Mighty Goliath, a strong warrior, a formidable foe. David, the shepherd boy, too young to be in the army, is acting as gopher. He is delivering provisions to his brothers. He sees the situation.

“I’ll go and fight the Philistine,” he offers. What a ludicrous thought! This small boy against all that might! But no one else is willing to go, so they deck him out in armour; it just weighs him down. But he has a few secret weapons of his own, amongst them a sling, a few smooth stones from the dry river bed, skill, experience, and most important, faith. We know the story. David is able, through the grace of God, to face Goliath, terrifying, malevolent. In facing the terrible Goliath, he overcomes all odds. It becomes obvious to everyone. This is the one whom God has chosen. He is the one in whom the Lord is present. The fairy tale becomes a story of virtue overcoming strength and power. What a sense of hope that gives us!

The gospel is a similar story in many ways. It is the end of a long day. Jesus and the disciples need a break from the crowd. Jesus seizes the opportunity at hand. He and his disciples put out to sea in one of the boats. They have fished on the Sea of Galilee all their lives. They know its little quirks, it dangers. It is a very shallow lake surrounded on every side by the gentle sloping hills of Galilee. Storms can come up with great ferocity and little warning. But they need to get away, to escape the crowds.

Jesus was tired. Filled with the cares of many a busy day, tired of the thronging crowds. In fact, he was tired enough to lie down in the boat and go off into a deep sleep.

Sure enough, during the night a storm began to rage, a violent storm, life threatening. Huge waves were about to swamp their small boat. The disciples were terrified. Yet Jesus slept on. Is he simply indifferent to what happens to them? "Do you not care that we are perishing?" they cry out to him.

And he wakes up, wondering what all the fuss is about. He stills the waves and the disciples are filled with a different kind of fear and awe. The storm is nothing compared to the awesome power of this person. "Who is this," they ponder, "that even the winds and the sea obey him?" He showed his own power over forces beyond human control. God is truly with him.

It is easy sometimes to reduce a story like this to a wonder. That will just leave us wondering why we do not have the power to avert destructive hurricanes and tornadoes today. God knows we could do with such control.

But this story and the story about David and Goliath have a far more important message for us. They remind us that we are called to have faith in God, whose power and presence undergirds all of life and who undercuts false assessments of security and strength. So why do I find myself feeling terribly uneasy at Jesus’ censure of the disciples’ lack of faith? I am with them as they fearfully plead with him for help. After all, I am not beyond calling out to God in fear, “Do you not care that I am perishing?”

I have called out that way at many times in my life. I have called out in desperation. I have called out in fear. I have called out in frustration. In our day to day lives things happen that simply wear us down. Just when you think it cannot possibly get any worse, it does. Unexpected household expenses arise. Something goes wrong with the car and it needs repairs. And on top of it all you are let go at work. You are at the lowest ebb of your life. There is nothing to do but to grit your teeth and bear it.

Or is there? Somehow when we call out to God at times such as those, something happens. When the real storms of life rage somehow, somewhere, we get the energy to deal with it.

Numerous times I have observed care givers dealing with the sickness of a loved one. No matter how tired they get, no matter how discouraged, they lovingly go about the routine of caring for their every need. They forget about their own needs as they nurse their loved one back to health. Sometimes they wonder if they have the strength to endure any more. And yet the resources come from beyond themselves. They have strength enough to keep going. It seems very much like Jesus. He is bone weary. The disciples awaken him out of a deep sleep. “Peace! Be still!” he says. And the winds quiet down. The storm ends. What might we glimpse if we truly opened ourselves up to the resources that Mark tells us come from beyond?

We live in a world filled with problems – economic pressures, war and terrorism, storms and climate change, violence and crime. We feel like crying out to Jesus. We feel like laying the blame squarely on God. Then we hear the voice of reason. “Don’t you have any faith? I created, redeemed and appointed you for just such times as these. I am with you always, working out my will through you. Trust me. I won’t let you down. Your place is in the midst of the storm. That is where I have called you to be. I will be there with you.”

That is when we truly need to remember that God cares for humanity. In the midst of all our stupidity and greed, God truly cares for us. God’s grace is there for us. We don’t even have to earn it. It is there. God does not promise to cancel out all the storms of life as he did on the Sea of Galilee. We are still going to get tossed about. We may even think that God must be sleeping. What God does promise is to be with us as we face and endure the storms that whirl about us. We need to accept the promises and power and lay claim to the amazing sense of peace that comes in the midst of the raging storms that beset us. These stories show us the way. Thanks be to God.