Easter Sunday, Year A

Come and See, Go and Tell

Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Colossians 3:1-4; Matthew 28:1-10

A Christian, a Jew, a Moslem and an atheist were having a conversation one day.

"It really isn't fair," commented the atheist. "You all have special days to celebrate. For you Christians there's Christmas and Easter. You Jews have Passover and Hanukah. Moslems have Ramadan. What's left for us atheists?"

The Christian leaned over and offered, "You can have April the 1st."

I begin my sermon with that story for a couple of reasons. One is reflected in the custom in some parts of Eastern Catholicism to tell jokes on Easter Sunday to imitate God’s last laugh on Satan, who thought he had won with the death of Jesus. The other is because there are those who believe that we Christians are celebrating April Fools' Day today. "How can you believe such a story? Aren't you simply deluding yourself? It arises out of your own fears. You're simply trying to paint a rosy picture because you don't want to face the fact that once life is over, that's it."

Then there are the skeptics who will say: "I'll believe if only you'll give me proof positive that any of this happened."

We may call ourselves fools for Christ. But there is nothing foolish about being a Christian. There is no fooling about our celebration this morning. We are here as witnesses of the most momentous event of all times. Death is conquered. Christ is victorious. We acclaim that great victory.

But the truth remains; the skeptics are right in a way. I cannot provide you with proof. There aren't a lot of facts. And looking around at a world torn by war, terrorism and civil strife, how can we presume to preach a message of the risen Christ? In a world where children die of hunger, how do we convey a message of hope for a better existence? In a world in which 'seeing is believing' how can we possibly convince people to have faith in something so intangible, so incredible? In a world of fast fixes how do we convince people of the need to commit themselves to a way of life that benefits them, not now but in the afterlife? How do we help people to open up to the signs of resurrection around them? For the signs are there, if only we look for them. If we are to see and understand resurrection, it will happen through the ordinary, the things that we are so prone to simply overlook or dismiss.

Take Matthew’s account of the resurrection. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, Matthew tells us, followers of Jesus, went to the tomb. It was their intention to bury Jesus properly, and so they came carrying the necessary oils, herbs and spices. They came to wash him and anoint him. Such were simple acts of kindness, all that they could do under the circumstances. He had been taken down hurriedly from the cross late in the afternoon. There had been no time to do anything but place his body in the tomb. Now it requires their attention. They cannot simply leave him, this person who has meant so much to them.

That simple act changes their ordinary lives. Yes! First of all Matthew needs to take care of a few loose ends. There is the huge stone that the authorities have rolled in place to block the tomb. Suddenly there is an earthquake as an angel rolls back the stone, and then sits on it. That takes care, not only of the huge stone, but also of another issue facing the believers. The guards are so shaken by the event that they become ‘like dead men’. The angel, the messenger, then issues an invitation to the women. “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.”

Just a few hours before, they had lovingly laid his body to rest in the tomb. They can picture it, every detail of his battered body. And so they look in. They see the emptiness of the tomb. Jesus is not there. Seeing they believe.

That is not the end of the story, but only the beginning. The angel sends them out on a mission. “Go and tell the others that he has been raised from the dead. He is going to Galilee. You will see him there.”

They are filled with mixed emotions, both fear and great joy. Now they are the ones who are to testify to the fact that he has been raised from the dead. They go as fast as they can to the disciples. On the way they are met by the risen Christ. They fall at his feet to worship him. This time it is Jesus who tells them to let the others know.

Their ordinary lives are changed at the empty tomb. They encounter the risen Christ. Their fears pass into distant memories. They find new meaning and immense joy in their faith.

They came. They saw. They believed.

Where do we encounter the risen Lord? What signs of resurrection do we witness in our daily lives? Where is the risen Lord to be found? The resurrection has not ended. It happens every day in our ordinary lives. Looking back over our lives we will see the scattered graces of God opening up to us the mystery of the resurrection. Perhaps for you it is the wonder of holding your child in your arms for the first time. Or the joy that came as you realized you were head over heels in love. Was it a perfect rainbow in the sky that left you breathless? Or the smell of spring in the air after a long winter? Or as with a friend of mine, was it a miracle that you simply cannot explain?

My friend was reminiscing about growing up in Jamaica. He was at his great grandmother’s house. Times were tough for her and it was March, the fallow season. There was not a scrap of food in the house. His great grandmother said to him, “I don’t think the Lord wants us to go hungry. Go check out the breadfruit trees. See what you can find.” Yes, bread does grow on trees in Jamaica!

So off he went and did as he was told. But not surprisingly, not one breadfruit was to be found.

He went back sadly to report to his great grandmother. “Go and look again,” she said. “Look more carefully!”

Off he went once more. He checked every tree, looking in all the likely places at the tips of the largest branches. Not one breadfruit did he find! Back he went to his great grandmother.

“Just check one more time!” she asked him. Back he went for the third time. This time he scoured every tree. He could not believe his eyes. There nestled on a shoot was the largest breadfruit he had ever seen.

“There is only one explanation,” he told me. “It was a miracle! God put it there! A perfectly ripe, beautiful breadfruit in the most unexpected place!

The Easter story has not changed. We disciples of Jesus go preaching and baptizing with doubt in our hearts. Unbelievers continue to explain away events. We keep on searching for Easter, and sometimes we are met with disappointment. But let us keep on looking. For the ending of fear and doubt is the empty tomb itself. We go looking for Jesus who was crucified. But he is not in the tomb. He has been raised. The signs of that are all around us, if only we will open our eyes.

So follow the story to its natural conclusion. Do not stop to worry like dead men. Go and tell the good news. Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed, alleluia!

Palm / Passion Sunday, Year A

What About You?

Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14-27:66

There is a painting by Rembrandt entitled the Three Crosses that depicts the crucifixion. Your eyes are first drawn to the figure of Christ on the cross, lifted high above the crowds. Then you start to examine the people in the crowd. You notice the various facial expressions and actions, some praying, some jeering, some disinterested, looking away. If you keep searching through the crowd, you will catch sight of a figure hidden in the shadows. Many believe it to be a representation of Rembrandt himself, recognizing his own complicity in the death of Christ.

Have we not all wondered what we would have done had we been on hand to witness the events first hand? The Passion narrative challenges us to reflect on exactly that. There were as many reactions to Jesus’ plight as there were people in the story.

Would we have reacted like the disciples? The disciples, his closest friends, those who listened day after day to Jesus’ teachings, could not stay awake with him. They could not watch and pray even for one hour. And when it came time to make a decision to follow him they ran away in fear, unable to face the consequences, the danger that knowing Jesus put them into. Even Peter, his words still ringing out loud and clear, “Though all become deserters because of you, I will never desert you.” Under the strain he too runs away. All the good intentions in the world are not enough. When life gets difficult do we blame God and run away?

Judas betrayed him for what he could get. And yet somehow I wonder if he really did want to betray him. Did he think that somehow he might be able to save Jesus? Did he want to give Jesus the opportunity to fight back, to become the kind of Messiah that he had been expecting? No matter! He betrays him. He takes what he can get. Is that our approach to the faith? Are we simply in it to get what we can? Is our job or wealth more important to us than those we love? Do we pay more attention to work than to family? Are we faithful to God’s call despite personal sacrifices? What impact do Christ’s death and resurrection have in our lives?

The crowds jeered at Jesus. The same people who had shouted hosanna just a few short days before turned on him. “Crucify him!” they shouted, the mob mentality taking over. Do our lackadaisical attitudes, our inability to stand up against the crowd, our opting in to the ways of the world, crucify Jesus?

And then there is Pilate. His is surely the most subtle way to react. He is the one person who has the power to release Jesus. He knows that this is an innocent man standing before him. He even has his wife’s dream to corroborate it. “Have nothing to do with that innocent man,” she pleads. “I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” And yet he turns his back on Jesus. He releases a known criminal to the crowds. Not that he takes responsibility for his actions. Instead he calls for a bowl of water. He washes his hands. “I am innocent of this man’s blood.”

We humans are very good at doing that. We wash our hands of it. As if that is going to change anything! Throughout history we have washed our hands of event after event. For two hundred years we have washed our hands of our responsibility towards our Aboriginal peoples. Many still refuse to understand the impact that the Residential Schools had on them. Many refuse to understand the impact of the abuse or the family dysfunction that has arisen because of it. As so often happens in cases of abuse, we blame the victims and further their victimization. We continue to say that it has nothing to do with us and wash our hands of it as we have for two hundred years.

Thank God that God has not simply washed God’s hands of us. God could have looked at humankind and given up. But that is not God’s way. It is not what God did. Instead, God acted. God sent salvation into the world. It was not about making life easy for us. It was not about manipulating us into making a decision to follow God. It was to enable us to reach out to others, to lead people back to God, to act.

It is easy for us as Easter people to say what our reaction to Jesus’ plight would have been. And yet so often our actions show differently. Daily we crucify him.

On Ash Wednesday we began a journey that has led us through wilderness times. The journey ends at the foot of the cross where we await the joyful resurrection to new life. The call of the cross is a call to share in God’s unconditional mercy and goodness. It is a reminder that God’s power is able to transform even the most terrible suffering. It is a reminder that God is with us. In our encounter with the crucified God may we learn that the sharing of suffering is the beginning of its transformation to wholeness and joy. Amen.

The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany, Year A

Walking the Extra Mile

Readings: Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40; 1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23; Matthew 5:38-48

The gospel for this Sunday is once again from the Beatitudes, the Sermon on the Mount. I have to admit, that “Don’t worry! Be happy!” philosophy that runs through the chapter begins to cloy after a while. The Old Testament reading from Leviticus is one thing as it reminds us of our need to love our neighbour. It at least is a practical reminder of what it means to be holy. It calls us to make practical decisions about our affluence. But then Jesus takes it so much further. What is he thinking? Jesus reminds us that we are called to love those who harm us, oppress us, and even enemies intent on destroying us. We are to offer those harming us the other cheek. We are to give those trying to steal our coat, our cloak as well. We are to offer to walk the extra mile, to give liberally to everyone who asks, to do good to those who persecute us. We are to smile through it all. And then the clincher as Jesus sums it all up. “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

I think it is the perfection that really gets to me. That kind of hyperbole, if that is what it is, is a sad reality that has driven many to despair, compulsion, perhaps even suicide. In this day and age when we hear so much about cyber bullying and its terrible effects, how do we live out what Jesus is saying in this passage? And as if that isn’t enough, many people drive themselves to perfection in their work and in their scholastic endeavours. The lives of saints are filled with tales of self-abuse. Then there are the young women whose body image causes them to diet to the point of anorexia. What of the cult leader who imposes his doctrine on a group of people? The path to human perfection has even led to schemes to rid the world of whole races of people.

So what is Jesus on about? What did he mean by telling us to be perfect the way God is perfect? How can we be perfect, flawless, completely pure and whole? We will never be able to rid ourselves of all the imperfections in our lives. We will never be able to cut them away or change them so that we are perfect. Truly Jesus must have had something else in mind, something that issues from his unique understanding of God. In the Beatitudes, Jesus is teaching the disciples about the coming of the kingdom. It is a teaching deeply rooted in his understanding of the call of the Christian to perfection in this life. It is a call that brings God and humanity into closer relationship and allows the kingdom of God to exist here and now. It is a call that truly asks of the Christian to walk the extra mile in everything that they do.

So when Jesus asks us to learn to love even our enemies it is so that we will no longer return evil for evil, but will find some way to offer blessing and love. Because Jesus knows that it is what the world needs. The question remains for me. How do I even begin to learn to do that? How do I begin to learn to breathe love the same way that my heart beats? How does love become a part of my very being?

I would have found it much easier to understand if Jesus had told me a story. It might have gone something like this. A man set out on his usual jogging route one afternoon. He headed down a busy street towards the park. He had not gone far when he felt a terrible pain in his chest. He fell right there in the street. There were lots of people around. A woman close by noticed him fall. “He must be drunk!” she said to herself as she crossed over to the other side of the street without even a second glance.

A man in a business suit looked at his watch. “If I stop and help him I’ll be late,” he muttered to himself and pretended that he hadn’t seen what happened.

Mary was driving her daughter home from school. She saw the man as he began to fall. She saw him grab at his chest. She pulled over. “Call 911!” she said to her daughter. “Tell them where we are and that we need an ambulance right away.” She got out of the car and turned the man over. She could see that his colour was poor. Somehow or other her Girl Guide training in CPR came back to her. By the time the ambulance pulled up she was breathing life back into him. They got him stable and prepared to take him to the hospital. Not wanting him to face this all alone, she followed along in her car. She and her daughter waited with him until his family arrived at the hospital. He called her his guardian angel. When asked why she stayed with him, she said, “We need to walk the extra mile for one another.”

Come to think of it, Jesus did tell that story. He told it many times and in many ways. It is after all the story of the compassion of the Good Samaritan who walked the extra mile for a stranger in need. It is the story too of the Prodigal Father who cared so much for his son that he would not give up on him but lavished love on him. It is Jesus’ own story, for he loved us so much that he gave up his life on the cross for us.

Walking the extra mile, turning the other cheek, giving until it hurts is not about trying as hard as we can to love God and to love our neighbour. It is not about allowing ourselves to be bullied. It is not about being perfectionists. It is about living generously. It is about allowing God’s grace to work in our lives. After all that is how God lives with us. That is the possibility for which we were made. So it is about understanding how much God loves us and then allowing God’s love to transform our lives so that we have all the love we need to pour out for others to become everything that God is calling us to be. Wouldn’t that usher in God’s realm here on earth?

Presentation of Our Lord (Candlemas Day)

My Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Lord

Readings: Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 84:1-7; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:2-40

At this time of year I always like to watch the movie Groundhog Day. It is about an extremely cynical weatherman who is sent to cover the groundhog’s yearly appearance and to report on whether or not he has seen his shadow. The problem is that it is always Groundhog Day. Tomorrow never comes. He finishes the day only to find it repeating itself over and over again. At first he uses it to over indulge and to do crazy things, knowing that even if he kills himself, tomorrow will come. A transformative change comes over him as he begins to see it as an opportunity to improve his life. He is able to take one day and live it until he gets it right. It becomes a story of great hope.

Groundhog Day is, after all, a very hopeful day. The groundhog coming out of its hole reminds us that winter is half over. The days are beginning to get longer. Spring is just around the corner. Especially this year as we seem to be enduring endless winter, this is a hopeful day. However, I hate to disappoint you; we do not celebrate Groundhog Day in church. However, Candlemas, which we are celebrating, has some curious connections to the secular celebration that coincides with it. Not only do they occur on the same day; they both mark the day on which winter is half over. There is an ancient rhyme about Candlemas that may well remind you of the groundhog and his shadow.

If Candlemas day be sunny and bright,
Winter again will show its might.
If Candlemas day be cloudy and grey,
Winter soon will pass away.

It came to be called Candlemas because that was the day on which the year’s supply of candles for the church were blessed. Candles were lit to symbolize that Jesus Christ had come into the world as light. Today it is celebrated as a commemoration of the purification of The Blessed Virgin Mary forty days after the birth of her son. It also marks the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple. It is a celebration of great hope as we recall the saving purpose of the incarnation.

Luke tells the story through the eyes of two saintly people, Simeon and Anna. Simeon is a devout Jew who is waiting for the coming of the Messiah. Each day he goes to the temple to pray. Even though he faces great difficulty in his life he never loses hope. God has promised that he will see the Messiah before he dies. He knows that God will keep that promise. Anna, an elderly prophet, spends her time in the temple, fasting and praying, awaiting with expectation the day of the Lord’s coming.

The day comes when Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the temple. He is the first-born son, and is to be dedicated to God as is the custom amongst Jewish families. His parents then reclaim him by paying a small ransom to the priest. A wealthy family would be expected to give a large gift. Mary and Joseph are poor. They bring with them a small gift, a pair of turtledoves.

As is his habit, Simeon is there, praying. When he sees the child he takes him in his arms and gives thanks to God. Through his faithful prayer, through faithfully seeking God, he comes to a meeting place with God. He knows God’s grace at work in his life. “My eyes have seen your salvation,” he says, recognizing who it is in his arms. This is no song of resignation in an old man ready to die. This is a call to action as he takes up his ministry. He is embracing the future with all that it holds in store for him.

Anna too discerns the mysterious significance of the child Jesus. Like Simeon she becomes a model of what we might strive and pray for, the capacity to recognize the on-going creativity of God in the world.

What a wonderful concept of God they both have! What a breadth of vision! It reminds me that our God is too small. We want our faith to be a personal thing. God is “my God”. Religion is my personal possession. It is about my well being, my problems, my needs. God becomes the God of my church or my way of life or my race. It gives me great hope for the future of a world which often sadly seems to be in its death throes.

It is difficult to watch the news without being confronted by a barrage of hopelessness. We hear of violence of nation against nation, of people against people. We witness catastrophic events, earthquakes, floods, fire and drought. We hear of children dying of hunger. We wonder where it will all end.

The Church is not without its dire warnings. One of our Bishops preached of the likelihood that his would be the last generation of the Anglican Church. We see the people in our churches aging and wonder if he might be right.

Our Church needs the vision of Simeon. We need the wisdom of Anna. We are a wonderful and diverse communion, rich in cultural makeup, rich in liturgical tradition. We have so much to offer to our communities.

From what I know of this community, it is one which has faced change with a sense of adventure. You embraced a vision of this building and of how it could reach out to the community around it. You made it happen. How do you continue to reach out to a growing and changing community with your limited resources? How do you encourage young people to stay and be part of your community? How do you bring up your children in the faith? How do you face the challenges of a society that is becoming more and more secularized? How do you keep faith when the world around you seems to be in a state of chaos? How do you remain hopeful?

We need to hear from the Simeon’s and Anna’s in our congregations about their particular ministries. We need to hear their stories of commitment of time and talent. We need to respond to God’s call to each one of us, abandoning the excuses.

‘I don’t have time for one more thing,’ you’ll say. ‘It isn’t the right time. My job is too demanding. My family is my priority. There are others who are more suited, more capable than I. I am getting to old. Besides, no one asked me.’

Like Simeon and Anna in the temple, our eyes too have seen the glory of God. We have seen it all around us. We have seen it at work in our lives and in the lives of those we love. We have seen how God graces us. It is a glory that we need to share. We do that by offering ourselves, our time, our talents, our treasures, to God. That is the hope for the Church. That is the hope for a world that badly needs to experience God’s grace. Amen.

10th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17, Year C

When God Doesn't Answer Prayer

Readings: Hosea 1:2-10; Psalm 85; 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 a forgiving person. He prays not to be tested by life more than 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, probably 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, perhaps 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. Maybe it was 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?

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 trials 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 about prayer 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

9th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 16, Year C

“The Tyranny of the Urgent”

Readings: Amos 8:1-12; Psalm 52; Colossians 1:16-28; Luke 10:38-42

The gospel begins with a homey story about a visit that Jesus makes to two sisters, Mary and Martha. It is Martha, the outgoing sister, who greets Jesus at the door. She welcomes him and invites him in, then bustles around, making a fuss over her visitor, making certain he is made to feel at home. She prepares to serve a meal.

At that point in the story, we meet Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet, hanging on to his every word. It does not sit well with Martha that she is busy working while Mary is listening to their guest. She complains to Jesus. “Tell her to help me!” Refusing to interfere, instead Jesus says to her, “Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.”

I suspect that many of us can identify with how she is feeling, with her frustration. How would we want the story to end? Do we want Jesus to insist that Mary go and help? Perhaps we would even like to see Jesus say to Mary, “Let’s go into the kitchen and help Martha with this meal. Then you can both come out and listen to my teaching.”

Now I must say, I have always identified with Martha. You see, my middle name is Martha while my older sister’s middle name is Mary. We did, growing up have a rivalry between us as many sisters do. Part of the problem was that I was two years younger than she. No matter how hard I tried, I could not live up to her perfection. Even when it came to looks, she had it made. She had long, honey coloured, naturally curly hair that formed into perfect ringlets. Mine on the other hand was dark and straight, with not even the hint of a curl no matter how hard I tried. When we shared a room together, her half was always as neat as a pin while mine looked as if a cyclone hit it. When we ate ice cream cones, mine dripped all over me, while she daintily licked at it until it was finished. But the worst thing to me was to be reminded constantly by my parents that I should emulate my namesake, Martha, and be more like my older sister.

So often when we listen to this story, what we hear is that there are two ways of doing things, the right way and the wrong way, and Mary was doing the ‘better’ thing. That is not what Jesus is saying. He is saying that we all need to take the time to be hospitable, but hospitality might mean that we should be sitting at the feet of Jesus listening to what he has to say, reflecting on our relationship with God and responding to God.

Notice that Jesus did not call Martha to task about what she was doing. He accepted her service and hospitality. Such things were important to him. But she was 'distracted' with all the serving. It was her distraction from what was important that caused him to respond as he did. Her anxiety about all the details kept her from the most important thing, really enjoying the opportunity to be with Jesus, to spend time together, to talk, and to listen to one another. She was missing out on the best part of friendship because she was obsessed with 'doing' rather than 'being'.

In fact, it is high time that Martha went on strike! Her life is living her. She needs to get a life. Part of the message is that everyone is to be included and no one is to be left aside trapped in a role, which prevents them from participation. Martha is being encouraged to abandon a role in which she sees herself as being held captive to serve the needs of others. She is being challenged to leave behind her martyr complex that has her believing that if she does not do it, no one will.

It is easy to become distracted by many things. What distracts us as individuals? Aging, work, wealth, power? We can be more interested in accumulating wealth or power than in being who we are meant to be. And it is not wealth that is wrong. It is being distracted by wealth that is wrong. The accumulation of wealth can become our whole focus in life. It can distract us from building relationships. It can distract us from assuming our responsibilities. I cannot tell you how many times I have spoken to people planning a relative’s funeral only to hear all of the regrets. They regret that they did not spend more time together. They regret that work came first. They regret not spending more time in meaningful conversation.

For me the distraction is only too often the Internet. I am certainly becoming more relaxed about email since my retirement, but why is it that I somehow think that as soon as an email arrives I must read it and respond to it? I have to say, people get anxious about your response. “Did you get my email?” they will say accusingly. One commentator labeled it “the tyranny of the urgent”. When I first started out in ministry, I received mail that had already taken several days to get to me. I took my time about responding. If something truly were urgent, then I received a phone call. But somehow society has given us the idea that the messages that come to us need immediate attention. We get distracted, and I suspect, sometimes use bad judgement in firing off an answer.

What about church? Are there things that distract us and keep us from living out our mission? Do we become so concerned with the building, with its beautiful architecture, with its historical significance, that we forget that the church is the people of God? Do we become obsessed with its deficiencies and become distracted by everything that needs to be done? Do we spend our time raising money for this project or that without considering the greater needs of the community, without considering our mission?

Martha had a wonderful sense of service. She was well organized, and enthusiastic, a wonderful hostess; but service, even sacrifice can be spoiled by self-concern and self-pity. Good works can become a misery to the doer and a tyranny to others. When what we are doing gets to the point that it distracts us then something has gone wrong and we need to do something about it. We need to concern ourselves with being, rather than doing. Those who serve may need to step back from time to time to contemplate, to become more grounded in the faith, to renew their strength. Busily doing ‘good’ may be a distraction from what the church needs at the time.

That is what Jesus told Martha. "One thing is needful," he said. Yes, we are to be servants in the world. That is certainly the message of the Gospel. That is certainly the call of discipleship, a call that Martha understood only too well. What she did not understand was that the assignment begins at the feet of Jesus. Listening to Jesus is not better than serving Jesus, just more needful. We can all benefit by returning to Mary’s place of quietness and strength. Mary knew that it was at the feet of Jesus that she would renew her strength.

It is through the life of prayer that we get in touch and keep in tune with God. We need times of quiet renewal in our lives. It is through Word and Sacrament that we are renewed and revitalized. From our worship we are sent out into our Monday through Saturday journey into the world to serve humanity. There we transmit some small touch of divine love and power to despairing, suffering, lonely people.

The Lord was coming to my house. I wanted everything to be just right, so I scrubbed it from top to bottom. I cleaned and polished until the place shone. Then I laid the table with my best tablecloth. I polished the silver and put out my best china. There were candles and matching napkins. Everything looked quite wonderful.

When Jesus came into my house I greeted him at the door. I lavished attention on him. I made certain the conversation did not lag. He seemed to be most appreciative of our time together. But when he left, I realized that something was bothering me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Then a question arose from somewhere inside me. What did Jesus want from me? Food? Hospitality? I wondered. But then a second question, a more important one, came to me. "What did he want to give me? I felt sure he wanted to give me something. But whatever it was, I didn't give him any opportunity to offer it.

Proper 15, Year C

The Road from Jerusalem to Jericho

Readings: Amos 7:1-17; Psalm 82; Colossians 1:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

A lawyer comes to test Jesus. “What should I do to be saved?” Jesus does not give him the answer. He seldom does. Instead, he turns tables on him, asking him, “What do you think you should do?” The lawyer gives the correct answer. “Love God and love your neighbour.” He knows the law. He says all the right things. He does all the right things. He lives a respectable life. He knows that he cannot be challenged on his knowledge of the law. But he wants to justify his actions, so he asks another trick question, “Who is my neighbour?”

Jesus responds, but not in the way we might expect. He does not argue with him about the law. He does not write a pastoral letter. He does not form a committee to talk about the issue. He does not give a theological reflection on the subject. He tells a story that hits home.

A man travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho is robbed of everything and left for dead. Several people pass by him on that busy road, amongst them a priest and a Levite. Maybe they are in a hurry to reach Jericho before nightfall. Perhaps they fear being made unclean. Or they may fear being attacked themselves. For whatever reason, they don’t stop. But a Samaritan, an outcast of society, does stop. He cannot pass another human being in pain without wanting to relieve that pain. He takes care of the man, binding up his wounds. He takes him to an inn and looks after him as long as he can. He gives the innkeeper enough money to care for the man until he is well. His are not simply band-aid solutions; he accepts the responsibility for this person who is in desperate need.

Jesus asks the lawyer one last question. “Who was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He knows there is only answer. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus tells him.

I suspect the lawyer was expecting an argument from Jesus, something he could really sink his teeth into. He is a person looking for a debate. And what Jesus gives him is an opportunity to judge himself. Hopefully he discovered that if we are motivated by law rather than love we are robbing others of real justice.

The story of the Good Samaritan is one that we all know only too well. But I wonder, how many of us have truly heard the story? How many of us have found ourselves on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho? What was our response? Did we respond out of love?

In a university course, a teacher once the class if they had ever heard the story of the Good Samaritan. They all looked at her incredulously. Of course they had heard the story. In our society we call people who help other people “Good Samaritans”. But she went on. “I am not asking if you have listened to the story. I am asking if you have ever heard the story.”

One young woman began to sob. “I know exactly what it you mean,” she said. I was just a child of seven at the time. My father was driving me to the beach to join the rest of the family at the start of the summer holidays. As we were driving along the highway my father had a heart attack. He managed to pull the car over to the side of the highway and told me to try to get help. I got out, waved my arms frantically, but no one on that busy highway would stop.”

“After what seems ages, someone finally stopped to find out what was the matter. He alerted the police, but by the time help arrived my father had died. He was only thirty-four years old.”

Those listening to her story vented their anger and resentment at the motorists who passed by, finding it incomprehensible. One person, however, piped up and said, “I can understand it totally.” He related his story.

“One cold winter night, very late, just as I was about to go to bed, there was a knock at my front door. It was a stranger looking for a place to spend the night. He was travelling back to university, had run out of money and was hitch-hiking. It had not gone well. He needed a place to sleep for the night.”

He went on. “I looked him over. He sounded genuine, but I felt angry at him for not being better prepared. I found every reason in the book not to help him. My own safety, his lack of foresight! I closed the door on him. I watched him disappear into the night. I admire the person who acted. He was a real hero. I wish I had.”

A third person began to relate her story. “You don’t feel like a hero when it happens. I was in my apartment one evening when there was a knock on the door. My neighbour from the next apartment was there holding the limp body of her young child. She was hysterical and had no idea what to do. I took the child in my arms, pointed to the phone and told her to call 911. I proceeded to do mouth to mouth on the little one. An ambulance arrived a short time later. One of the attendants said that if I had not acted the child would surely have died. Mother and child were taken to the hospital. She made a full recovery. I was lauded as a hero, but honestly, I just did what I had learned in my First Aid course.”

Who heard the story? They all did.

There have been many stories this past week from the town of Lac Megantic of people who heard the story and responded as neighbour to neighbour. Crisis so often brings out the best in neighbours. But it should not take a crisis.

So the question remains for us; dol we hear the story? What will we do to put Jesus’ vision of justice into practice in our world? How do we offer gestures of kindness to others? This passage is a revealing and judgemental condemnation of much that passes itself as Christian. It makes many professions of faith seem less than authentic. If we take it seriously, we can no longer simply say the right words or belong to the right church. The parable demands that we account for our actions. We cannot say, "I turn to Christ" without making a commitment to love God and to love neighbour.

Who is my neighbour? Is my neighbour the one who lives next door to me? Is it others who are like me, who share my heritage, my interests? The fact is that every human being is my neighbour. It can have nothing to do with colour, background or social status. It cannot have to do with how clean the person is. It cannot have to do with how well they speak. It must simply be the one who needs my help.

Jesus knew what it meant to be a neighbour. He was tortured, stripped and left in a ditch to die. Do we bear the marks of the wounded Christ in our lives? Are we neighbours to the wounded in our society? Those wounded by life, those burdened with cares, poverty, sickness and despair? Do we know who is our neighbour? Do our actions show that we know? What impact is our congregation having on the community around us? Those are questions we need to be asking.

A teacher once asked his pupils, "How do you know when night ends and day begins?"

One student answered, "You know that night ends and day begins when you can look into the distance and know which animal is your dog, and which is your sheep."

"That is a good answer," the teacher said, "but it is not my answer."

"You know that night ends and day begins," another student said, "when light falls on the leaves and you can see whether it is a maple or an oak."

"That too is a good answer," the teacher said, "but it is not my answer."

"What is you answer, teacher?" they asked.

"When you look into the eyes of a human being and see a brother or sister you know that it is morning. If you cannot see a sister or brother you will know that it will always be night."

Let us look in the face of our neighbour and see Christ. Amen.