Don’t Be Afraid? Easy for You to Say!: A Sermon for Resurrection Sunday

O God, may the finger of your Spirit stir through the clutter of my words to point to a new understanding. Amen.

 

In the morning after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, went to the tomb. In other gospels, there is talk about the women bringing burial spices to prepare the body. But Matthew knows better. He knows that Jesus’ body had already been anointed, meaning he didn’t need further anointing for his burial. So, in Matthew’s gospel, it simply says that the women were going to see the tomb. To me, it’s like any other time someone would go visit the grave of someone they love who had died.

 

The women, the two Mary’s, went to see the tomb. When they got to the tomb there was a great earthquake, and an angel came and rolled back the stone that covered the entrance to the tomb. The guards were afraid, and it seems that the women were too because the first thing that the angel said was, “do not be afraid.” The angel then told them that Jesus was not there, but rather that he was alive. The women are told to go and tell all that they have learned. As they go on their way, they encountered Jesus and he also says to them, “do not be afraid.”

 

“Do not be afraid.” Easy for Jesus to say! Can you imagine what these women were going through?! They came to the tomb because they loved Jesus, and they came filled with grief and sadness, filled with a sense of loss both for their friend that was gone and also for all that he represented to them. Can you imagine the despair these women would have been feeling? If you have ever grieved the loss of someone you loved, then you know that grief, sadness, and despair would have been the least that these women were feeling.

 

And to discover that Jesus is not in the tomb?! So now on top of all that sadness, grief, and despair, they’re feeling fear, too! Fear for what has happened to his body. Fear of the strange being that is there in front of them. Fear to really believe, to let hope back into their hearts, that maybe Jesus really was alive.

 

So often, throughout the bible, we come across these words of assurance, “Do not be afraid.” Typically, these words are said by an angel, it’s kind of their calling card. It is how you know you are being visited by an angel. Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth and Matthew’s account of Jesus’ resurrection contain these words of reassurance which seem to wrap the entire gospel narrative in those words, “Do not be afraid.” These are among the first words uttered by Gabriel to Mary when he tells her she will bear a son named Jesus. Then, an angel uses these same words to reassure Mary Magdalene and the other Mary when they find the tomb of Jesus empty and the earth shaking.

 

Fear is a powerful emotion and can affect people in different ways. For some, fear is empowering because it gives the person the adrenaline they need to move forward, to try something new, to go on an adventure, etc. For others, fear can be paralyzing, debilitating, and can make you run away. I’m sure you’ve heard of fight, flight, or freeze. The fight response is your body's way of facing any perceived threat aggressively. Flight means your body urges you to run from danger. Freeze is your body's inability to move or act against a threat. A new one I learned is fawn, which is your body's stress response to try to please someone to avoid conflict. For me, fear plays terrible tricks on my mind. It locks me into place, makes me freeze up, and often takes away opportunities. If I am full of fear, I am more likely to run away than to go and tell.

 

As a child, when you are gripped with fear, there is often someone who can help – parent, grandparent, sibling – someone to say the words, “do not be afraid.” And as a child, it is easy to believe those words of reassurance, to take great comfort from them. Fear is bigger for adults, more complex, and those words of reassurance are harder to come by. As adults, we live with enormous responsibilities and complex realities. If we hear the words, “do not be afraid,” we are often suspicious of the sincerity behind those words. Think about a time someone told you, “Do not be afraid. There is nothing to worry about.” When someone says to us, “do not be afraid,” the words often feel like empty platitudes. Something like, “there, there.”

 

And yet, here are these angels, to Mary at the beginning of Jesus’ story and to Mary Magdalene at the tomb, coming to say just that – “do not be afraid.” These are not words of assurance that nothing will go wrong but, rather, assurance that whatever may happen to us, God has the power to strengthen us and uphold us; that no matter our fears, God will never leave us to face them alone; that nothing is stronger than God’s love and God will always get the last word.

 

The angel tells the people, “Do not be afraid.” This command concerning fear is on-going. We should never be afraid anymore! Jesus has won! Do not allow fear to keep you from sharing what you have seen here. Do not let fear keep you from hoping, and from what it means that the tomb is empty, and from what you know now to be true, even if you are having hard time understanding it.

 

The women are invited by the angel to come and see that Jesus is not here in the tomb, and then they are told go and tell. Because “come and see” must always be followed by “go and tell.” It's a part of the good news! We are to go and tell the ways that God has shocked us into bewilderment, caused us to hope in our hearts that there can be new life. We are called to tell where we see God's love and grace at play in our world and how God's peace has attended us in times of sadness and grief.

 

The Gospel that began with a man afraid to marry his disgraced betrothed and a fearful king who tries to kill potential rivals ends with overwhelming joy. Jesus’ command to the women becomes a command to all of us:

 

Stop being afraid!

God has defeated death.

Rejoice, and share the good news!

 

Amen.

A Lasting Presence: A Sermon for Maundy Thursday

O God, may the finger of your Spirit stir through the clutter of my words to point to a new understanding. Amen.

 

Holy Week is celebrated by both Jews and Christians alike - for similar reasons but with very different undertones. In tonight’s account in Exodus, God tells Moses and Aaron how to combat the 10th plague. Here’s a reminder of that plague, found in Exodus 11:

 

Moses said, “Thus says the LORD: About midnight I will go out through Egypt. Every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the firstborn of the female slave who is behind the handmill, and all the firstborn of the livestock. Then there will be a loud cry throughout the whole land of Egypt, such as has never been or will ever be again. But not a dog shall growl at any of the Israelites—not at people, not at animals—so that you may know that the LORD makes a distinction between Egypt and Israel.”

 

In tonight’s reading from Exodus 12, God instructs Moses and Aaron to have each family slaughter a lamb and spread its blood on their doorways. By doing so, they would be telling God which houses belong to the Israelites, and thus, by default, which belong to the Egyptians. It says in line 13, “The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.”

 

For the Jewish community, this week is one of celebration that commemorates the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt. The Hebrew word pesach (pay-sock) refers to the ancient Passover sacrifice, known as the Paschal Lamb; it is also said to refer to the idea that God “passed over” the houses of the Jews during the 10th plague on the Egyptians, the slaying of the first born. The holiday is ultimately a celebration of freedom, and the story of the exodus from Egypt is a powerful metaphor that is appreciated not only by Jews, but by people of other faiths as well.

 

Passover is one of the most well-known Jewish holidays, as much for its connection to Jewish redemption and the figure of Moses as for its ties with Christian history. The Last Supper has been described as a Passover seder, a Jewish ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover.

 

According to the Synoptic Gospels, it is on Thursday evening that Jesus, in the upper room with his disciples, celebrates Passover and institutes the Lord's Supper. The Gospel of John, however, speaks of the Thursday supper as the day before Passover, linking Jesus' death on Friday with the Passover sacrifices. And so, while Jewish people are celebrating the joy of their freedom from slavery, this week, for Christians, is a week of sadness as we come closer to the end Jesus’ life. In the end, Christians will celebrate their freedom and forgiveness from sin, but the build-up to Easter Sunday is more sombre than joyful.

 

Tonight is an especially sombre night as Jesus lays the foundation of his departure even while his disciples are oblivious to the fact. There was no human reason why Jesus had to die. To the general public, he was more helpful than harmful. But to the Roman leadership, Jesus was a real pain.

 

Jesus was a small-town peasant in a Roman province far from the centers of political and religious power. People in such circumstances rarely threatened Rome in any serious way. A miracle-working Jewish prophet and teacher would not have posed much of a conventional threat to such power and brutality. For his own part, Jesus never took up arms, nor did he encourage his followers to do so.

But while Jesus did not exercise conventional kinds of political authority, his actions and his message included threats to the status quo. Chief among his threatening actions? Jesus could draw a crowd. The gospels report that great crowds followed him. When he entered Jerusalem during the last week of his life, he entered to local fanfare. The popularity of Jesus, combined with the gathering of perhaps hundreds of thousands of pilgrims in Jerusalem for Passover, would have made Roman authorities very nervous. It was this nervousness that flamed the desire to pull Jesus from hiding and set him on trial before Pilate.

 

Jesus knew this was all going to happen. He knew that his time on earth was coming to an end. He even knew who was going to hand him to Roman authorities. And he knew that the ending wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. So why didn’t he tell anyone? Why did he turn towards the end instead of running the other way? Cryptic as always, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples, declares that one of them will betray him, and tells them that he will only be with them a short while longer. And as usual, the whole situation goes over the disciples’ heads.

 

If you knew you were going to die, wouldn’t you tell your best friends? Wouldn’t you want you their support? Or at least give them a chance to say goodbye? Jesus didn’t do any of that, but he did impart some pretty heavy last lessons to his disciples.

 

First, he delivers to them a new commandment – to love one another. The reading says, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” While the Romans thought Jesus was a rebel-rouser, he really was, in fact, a teacher in the art of love. In all of his miracles, parables, and lessons, the underlying fact is that all can be done and achieved through the love of one another and of the stranger.

 

Second, Jesus imparted a lesson of remembrance. Jesus may not have openly declared to his people what was about to happen, but he wanted his disciples to remember him and the lessons that he had been teaching.

And so, much in the Jewish tradition of seder, Jesus and his disciples had one final supper together.

 

The Last Supper is one of the foundational pieces of the Christian faith. To accept the Eucharist in remembrance and thanks to the life and death of Jesus is to openly declare yourself one of his disciples. It is what makes this night so special, despite its darkness. Similar to the Jewish celebration of freedom from Egyptian slavery, tonight we, as Christians, celebrate our freedom to declare our love and faith in Jesus and reveal our willingness to follow in his footsteps.

 

Feel the quiet power these words: Take this bread and eat it. It is my body. As you eat it, remember me. Take this wine and drink it. It is my blood. As you drink it, remember me.

 

Almost 20 years ago, I read out loud tonight’s Corinthians passage aloud for the first time, my lips sounding out the words of our Eucharistic prayers. I felt a presence in those words, a presence that I felt physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I heeded the words of the Messiah, and the presence I felt, and became his disciple. Those words changed my life.

 

Tonight is a powerful night. It was for the disciples 2000 years ago. It was for me all those years ago. It is for us tonight. As we witness the stripping of our worship space and go into the darkness, there remains a presence. One that will remain with us until Jesus comes to us once again.

 

Amen.

Broken Promises: A Sermon for the 4th Sunday in Lent

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

A couple of weeks ago, Liz preached on the concept of trust and how easy it is to lose trust in others, causing us to turn inward, trusting only in ourselves. From my experience, the fastest route to broken trust is through broken promises.

 

Have you ever had something promised to you, only to have it taken away? A job or a promotion, perhaps? Or maybe a raise at work?

 

One person lying to another is a form of a broken promise. Like a promise to show up at an event for you, maybe a birthday party or a celebratory dinner, only to not show up at all.

 

How do these broken promises make you feel?

 

One of my favorite shows in my teen years was the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. In one episode, Will’s dad, who had abandoned him when he was little, came back into his life and made all sorts of promises to take Will with him on the road (he was a truck driver) and telling Will they’d be together again. Despite warnings from Uncle Phil, Will was super excited his dad had come for him and was ready to hit the road. Not really unexpected to the audience, Will’s dad snuck out on him just as he had done when he was a little boy, breaking Will’s heart all over again.

 

I have done a lot of reading over the past few years on Indigenous and Settler history, relationships, and reconciliation. The book I’m currently reading is called “52 Ways to Reconcile.” If you want to hear more about it, feel free to ask me later. But in one chapter, it reminded me that the treaties signed all those years ago were based on promises – promises to exchange land for things like cash, blankets, clothing, community schools, and farm equipment. All that conversation is for another time. My point is that just as easily as those promises were made (noting that the Indigenous people couldn’t read the documents put before them), those promises were broken, and most remain broken to this day.

 

These are just a couple of examples of how easy it is to break a promise. Sometimes it feels like we have become quite calloused to the problem of broken promises. Our default tends to be an expectation that promises will be broken. Words come cheap. It is so easy to blurt out a promise, but it is harder to keep that promise.

 

In our reading today, our main man Peter seems to be struggling with things that were easy to say and hard to do. The night started off well, twelve friends gathered around a table, sharing a meal. Celebrating the Passover, as one does. Maybe telling stories about everything that happened over the last while. You know, just relaxing and taking a load off. And then Jesus decided that now was the time to get serious. First, he institutes the Lord’s Supper, and then he says, “You will all fall away because of me this night, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’”

 

Jesus reveals to his group of friends that he knows they will scatter from him when things get hard. He already identified Judas as a betrayer and declares that the rest of them are about to do the same thing – desert their teacher. Peter would have none of it, and he let Jesus know it. “No way will I ever leave you,” he says. Jesus insists, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter jumps in and promises he’d never do that. “I promise. I pinky swear. I’m going anywhere. No matter what!” The rest of the guys are nodding their heads in agreement.

 

Well, we know how the rest of that story goes, don’t we? In fear for his life, watching what was happening to Jesus, and terrified the same would happen to him, not once, not twice, but three times Peter denies his association with Jesus. He had made a promise to Jesus to never abandon him, and yet, when the moment came, when he felt the threat of danger and suffering, he folded and collapsed. He forgot his promise. He knew it, too. As soon as that cock crowed, “he went out and wept bitterly.”

 

So easy was it for him to throw out the promise to stay at Jesus’ side, but when times got hard, Peter chose to keep a distance and to deny his relationship with Jesus. The other 10 weren’t any better. When Jesus needed his people the most, they weren’t there for him. Twelve broken promises.

 

Luther teaches that when Peter three times denied Jesus it was no mere backsliding, but it was the rejection of Christ and the death of faith. There in the courtyard, with the denial echoing off the hard walls, Peter was lost. If we read a little further on, we know that there’s hope for Peter. He turns to Jesus who then forgives him and even restores Peter’s place in the group.

 

While Judas’ story is a lesson on broken trust, Peter’s story warns us of the problem of broken promises. He warns us about the problem of words quickly and idly spoken that prove difficult and costly to keep. Peter shows us what it’s like to break a promise.

 

We are often too quick to judge poor Peter, however. Put yourself in his shoes. Have you ever missed a chance to witness with bold confidence to the truth of God? Have you ever been part of a conversation when you wanted to make your faith clear, but somehow you just couldn’t find the words, so you simply chose to remain silent? Have you ever decided it was easier to not let the people around you now that you are Christian? Have you ever seen someone in need and averted your eyes? Our promise to Jesus might not look quite the same as Peter’s but we are just as likely to break our promise to him as Peter did. We are, after all, simply human.

 

But, as with Peter, we know that in these lowest of times, we can look to Jesus for forgiveness and restoration. In Jesus, we are forgiven for our slip-ups and are given strength to try and keep our promises to the best of our ability. Jesus’ grace and forgiveness is ours forever. The work we need to do in our lives is to be aware of throwing around the words “I promise”. Our task is to take that strength that Jesus gives us and put action behind promises made – whether to ourselves or to others. Our responsibility is to avoid empty promises, knowing how we feel when it happens to us. Here, in our community of faith, we can hold ourselves accountable to each other knowing that even if we slip up, even if we break our promises, Jesus will always restore our place in the group.

 

Amen.

Breaking Bread: A Sermon for the 3rd Sunday in Lent

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Is there anything quite as wonderful as the smell of freshly baked bread? The ingredients are so simple – yeast, flour, eggs, butter, water, salt – but the smell when it comes out of the oven is heavenly. And what could be better than eating fresh hot bread? Eating bread easy but baking bread is a difficult skill to master. Variances in flour type, in water temperature, and in the humidity outside can all affect the outcome of a loaf. Bakers commit their entire lives to perfecting that perfect loaf of bread. When I first moved here, I bought all the ingredients to make bread, thinking it would be cheaper that buying bread. I still have yet to gather the courage to try!

 

Bread is both incredibly simple and infinitely complex. Terms like “daily bread” and “bread winner” and “breaking bread” are so woven into our vernacular that we forget they refer to actual, literal loaves that nourish us and that taste delicious too. So simple, so earthly, the extraordinary taste of fresh bread that provides the ordinary staple in the diet of so many people. Eating bread can be both a profoundly earthly and profoundly heavenly experience. That taste is exponentially greater when eaten while in the company of others and deeply felt when it is absent.

 

Throughout the sixth chapter of St. John's Gospel, Jesus has been saying that he is the bread of life; that he provides the only food which truly nourishes; that he gives us his own self, his own flesh and blood, to sustain us on our journey; and that we are actually to eat his flesh and blood in order to abide in him. These are, indeed, hard words, hard to hear, hard to understand, hard to believe. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus feeds five thousand plus, and compares this windfall to the manna the Israelites had received centuries before when they wandered the wilderness. Manna was God’s way of looking after the people of Israel. They received the blessing every day until they finally reached the land of promise. Then Jesus has a very long monologue about bread of life, which starts out nicely but ends with the command to eat his body and drink his blood.

 

It’s frightening and messy. To think that we should have life at the expense of another human being. These words are tantamount to cannibalism as Jesus’ followers reason it, and completely unacceptable in any reasonable, moral system of thinking. What Jesus was asking was a stark breaking of the Law. His listeners are offended by Jesus’ audacity. He is declaring himself to be manna, the “bread of life”. Just as manna gave life in the wilderness, so also Jesus gives life.

 

Although the crowd was initially enthusiastic about the idea of Jesus as one like Moses who could provide this miraculous bread, they reject the identification of Jesus with manna. They are rejecting him for who he is: the true bread from heaven whose death he claims will be grounds for establishing “eternal life” for them. And they begin to walk away. They begin to desert him. These aren’t people who have just joined him for the day. These were not mere hangers-on and band-waggoners who walked away. Note that John calls these folks not simply "the crowds," as in earlier passages, but rather "disciples." They were real followers who had probably been around for a while.

 

The people in today's reading who now desert Jesus are precisely those who had, in fact, believed in Jesus, those who had followed him and had given up much to do so. But his words became too muddled and too offensive for most of his followers. It got hard, they got tired of waiting for everything Jesus said would happen to happen, they didn’t like what he was preaching, so they left. They gave up and went home. A chapter that started with a huge crowd, ended with only twelve still willing to stick around, and even then, one of them is destined to betray him. The community that has been gathering around Jesus is beginning to break.

 

In the original manna story, the people’s response to God’s salvation is mixed. Although they initially herald the triumph of God in the Exodus, Israel immediately begins to grumble or complain against God and Moses in the wilderness. They do not trust God to take care of them. Similarly, the group following Jesus initially receives the miraculous food and heralds Jesus as a prophet. But they also begin to grumble against Jesus following his teaching about the manna. The faith that the disciples had put into Jesus is waning and their trust in him is fading.

 

The picture John draws for us in today's Gospel is not a pretty one, but it's a pretty realistic portrait of disbelief, of disciples then and now for whom the life of faith has become too hard. But the picture also includes courage and faith. Jesus turned to his twelve, his closest group, and said, “well I guess you want to go, too?” Peter responds, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

 

Peter’s response to Jesus is not a word of despair or a statement that they will have to settle for Jesus because there is nothing else. Peter and the others who remain have been given the gift of knowing that Jesus is the one who can give genuine life. It’s not that they weren’t plagued with doubt and fear. They suffered at times from a lack of courage, and they, too, eventually deserted Jesus – and at the very time he needed them the most. The difference was that they knew where to look when things got hard. They trusted that they could look to Jesus and lean on him.

 

The words of eternal life are not always simple or easy to hear. The words of eternal life remind us that life is not always plain; solutions to our problems are not straightforward. It is exactly because the words of eternal life ring true that we cannot leave. Where would we go? Who else will tell us the truth about life? Who else has lived the truth about life so fully?

 

John’s gospel begins with: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” For Christians, there is something about the Word that we cannot seem to find anywhere else. The gospel words of eternal life go straight to the soul. Each week, through listening to the Word, we're offered again and again the Word of eternal life. We're offered the chance to be encountered by Jesus and his living Word.

 

Through the speaking and hearing of the Word, Jesus' real presence is made manifest in our world, and we are pointed to the one place amid all the tumult and upset of this world and life we share that we can look to and know for sure that we will find God in Christ there for us. And through the breaking of the bread, we are able to tangibly experience Jesus’ presence.

 

When Jesus taught us to pray for “our daily bread,” he was teaching us that God wants us to depend on God for our everyday needs. “Daily bread” refers not just to food but to all that which we need for basic comfort and well-being: clothing, shelter, and other things necessary to support and continue our lives. When Jesus calls himself “the bread of life”, he is reminding us that he is something that we need in our everyday lives so that we have comfort and well-being.

 

I mentioned the feeding of the 5000 earlier. In that story, Jesus has provided physical food but uses that food to teach that he can provide spiritual food as well. He wants those who are listening to him to not just eat some bread and fish and then go home to hunger again. He wants them to develop a spiritual hunger and thirst that only he can fill. And where does he fill that spiritual hunger and thirst? Right here, at the communion table while in communion with others. Think of all the places you have taken communion, and the people whom you have taken communion alongside – people still living that you don’t see anymore, people who have died and seen only by God, people in this room, maybe even people whom you never met. Imagine all the places in which God has experienced this Eucharistic meal right alongside of you.

 

The communion that Jesus speaks of, describing himself as living bread, is something that has woven itself deeply into our life story. Jesus is the bread that came down from heaven, whose presence sustains us in every place and situation in which we find ourselves. It is in returning, again and again, for Jesus’ presence in Word and the sacrament of the Eucharist that we are conformed more and more to be like Jesus.

 

And in those times in life when challenges arise and we are not sure we have what it takes, we return again to be sustained by Jesus’ presence. And if we begin to feel unworthy of God’s love, we know that we can always return to the altar to confess and receive forgiveness. Then through Christ’s presence in the sacrament, we are once again fed for the coming week.

 

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. … This is the bread that came down from heaven … the one who eats this bread will live forever.” In the bread of life, our souls are blessed and nourished. In the bread of life, nothing is lost, not even our brokenness. In the bread of life, we are raised to eternal life. And that is good news, indeed.

 

Amen.

A Review of the Book "Dark Age" by Pierce Brown

Title: Dark Age

Author: Pierce Brown

Publisher: Penguin Random House

Year: 2020

752 pages

From the Back: Once a saviour. Now an outlaw. Darrow wages a rogue war on Mercury, abandoned by the very Republic he founded. In his darkening shadow, a new hero rises. Lysander au Lune, heir to the old empire, has returned from exile to restore the Golds to power. There are still those, led be the embattled Sovereign, Virginia au Augustus, who would keep the dream of liberty alive. But fear dims the hopes of the Rising, and the worlds spine on and on toward a new Dark Age.

Personal Thoughts: This is the 5th book in the Red Rising series. Took me a bit to get into the story again after having read the first three books so long ago, but once I got going it was just as good as the first three books. Dark Age is about twice as long as the first three and now there is a 6th book, so I'm beginning to wonder if there will be an actual end to the overall story. However, it's still a fun story to read, as long as you enjoy dystopian science-fiction, which I do. As I'm sure I mentioned in the other reviews, I don't really enjoy the fact that Brown uses first person in every chapter even though the main character switches. It means you really need to pay attention on whom the chapter is focused. It can throw you a bit at the start of a chapter, or picking up the book again the next day. the Red Rising series is still one I recommend, especially to science-fiction readers wanting to explore a new series.

Temptations in the Wilderness: A Sermon for the First Sunday of Lent

This homily is the opening message to the 159th Annual Meeting of the Parishioners for St Peter, Quamichan Anglican Church.

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Not long after his baptism, Jesus is sent out into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit. This wilderness is not just a physical location, but also a spiritual one. It is here that Jesus will be tested three times by the tempter, the deceiver, Satan. First, Jesus is tempted to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. The deceiver is misleading Jesus into using power for himself rather than trust in God to provide. The recognition of being provided for, particularly recalling God’s provision of manna in the wilderness, the knowledge of God’s provision in the direst of times, in the most unexpected and overwhelming circumstances, is what Jesus carries forward and does throughout his ministry.

 

Next, God’s protective grace is tested as Jesus is tempted to use power to secure himself from injury and death. But Jesus refuses to misuse his power and he knows that the tempter is using scripture out of context to try and convince Jesus to test God’s protective grace. Finally, the tempter attempts to seduce Jesus with domination and prestige by offering him control over all the world’s kingdoms in exchange for his allegiance. Jesus has no interest in earthly empires. Jesus is bringing God’s kingdom to earth.

 

Jesus’ temptations are our temptations still. Though none of us are tempted to turn stone to bread, and hopefully none expect to survive jumping off a building, we are still tempted to pursue other paths to wealth, influence, and power. We are still tempted to seek short cuts, ignore God’s will, and pursue goals that promise fulfillment, but only lead to emptiness.

 

Temptation comes to us in moments when we look at others and feel insecure about not having enough. Temptation comes in judgements we make about strangers or friends who make choices we don’t understand. Temptation rules us, making us able to turn away from those in need and to live our lives unaffected by poverty, hunger, and disease.

 

The temptations we all face, day by day and at critical moments of decision and vocation in our lives, may be very different from those of Jesus, but they have exactly the same points. They are trying to distract us, to turn us aside, from the path of servanthood to which our baptism has commissioned us.

 

But as Jesus has taught us, we need to trust that God will provide for us, to understand that we don’t need to throw ourselves off a cliff to prove to everyone that God will protect us, and to know that we move about in the world in the promise that God’s kingdom has come near.

 

As we head into our annual meeting, let’s remember how Jesus turned away the tempter, keeping his faith and trust in God. When we are dealing with the business of the church, especially considering the budget we will be discussing, it can be easy to lose sight of God, to lose faith in the path that God has for us, or to leave God out of the conversation completely. But Jesus has shown us that even through our doubts and fears, God will be walking with us. If we keep our hearts turned towards God, we can achieve anything and everything.

 

Immediately after Jesus came out of the wilderness, he began his ministry. Whenever we emerge from our wilderness experience, we are called to do the same. Finding our way out of the wilderness means that we have accomplished our trial, leaning on God. Jesus made it through to the other side of his wilderness journey, and so will we. May it be so.

 

Amen.

Resources

pulpitfiction.com

episcopalchurch.org

"Feasting on the Word" edited by David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor

'Matthew for Everyone" by NT Wright

The Visible Invisible Mark: A Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Ash Wednesday serves as a solemn reminder of human mortality and the need for reconciliation with God. It also marks the beginning of the penitential Lenten season.

 

Looking back into history, it was the practice in Rome for penitents and grievous sinners to begin their period of public penance on the first day of Lent in preparation for their restoration to the sacrament of the Eucharist. They were sprinkled with ashes, dressed in sackcloth, and obliged to remain apart until they were reconciled with the Christian community on Maundy Thursday, the Thursday before Easter. It was a public display of their penitence.

 

These practices have since gone by the wayside, replaced instead by the symbolism of placing ashes on the forehead. We may no longer be in sackcloths or segregated from each other but attending an Ash Wednesday service and having ashes marked on our forehead remains a public announcement to the world that we have moved into a time of reflection and penitence.

 

And yet, today’s reading from Matthew seems to indicate that we need to be invisible. If you are going to be pious, give alms, pray, and fast. Do so in private. Don’t announce it to the world. Don’t be obvious about it. Be invisible. Hide. Is Matthew telling us to disguise the fact that we are Christian? Is he telling us to hide who we are?

 

Not at all. Almsgiving, prayer, and fasting were the three pillars of piety for a devout Jew. And all three acts of piety can easily be transformed to be acts of self-glorification. All three acts of piety can be done not to glorify God but to glorify one’s self. The issue becomes one of motive.

 

Many pious and devout Jews were doing the right thing but for the wrong reason. There is always the temptation for religious people to demonstrate their religiosity in order to receive praise, affirmation, and applause. Christians are no exception. And that is what Matthew is wanting us to avoid. Matthew wants us to beware of practicing our piety before others in order to be seen by them. Instead, practice piety because you believe it brings you into a closer relationship with God. Evangelize by living out the Christian life without expecting praise in return. Do so because you know it to be the right thing to do, not because you want a reward from God or from others.

 

The purpose of tonight’s text is to inspire us to give and act out of our hearts, without any expectation of reward. When Jesus Christ lives in our hearts, our acts of charity, devotion, and love are real, not phony. They are genuine not fake. They come from unselfish motives with no expectation of any external reward. Jesus wants us to let our lights shine that others might see our good works of love, but we are not to show off our works of love. Don’t do things in order to be a hero or receive praise, but just because the person in front of you needs love. That’s what it is all about. Announce your Christianity to the World! But do it without expectation of anything in return.

 

Tonight is a night where we aren’t meant to be quiet. We become visible to the world by donning ashes on our forehead. A colleague of mine once said to me that ashes are a symbol that blow away in the wind, that washes off without a problem, and that disappear as easily as they appear. He said that the world is ashes, the signs and symbols of sin and death are all around us.

 

The ashes may be temporary, but they reveal what is underneath the sign they mark – the mark of the one who has claimed us, the sign of the one who will not leave us, even in death, the cross of the one who turns ashes into something new, who turns us into something new.

 

The world is ashes. There is division in the world, in our country, in our communities. Our hearts crumble as we listen to the news, as we follow events on social media, and maybe even as we listen to friends and family. But we have the Gospel of truth and hope. We have the message that from the ashes something new will be born and the phoenix of a new world will rise.

 

As Christians, not only do we need to be a part of it, but we need to lead the way. A few years ago, a joint message from the bishops of MNO Synod, Diocese of Rupert’s Land, and Diocese of Brandon contained this statement, “God is speaking, the Spirit is sighing deeply, and the Body of Christ is compelled to prayer and prepares to act to relieve suffering.”

 

The Church in every age has responded to God’s call to pray and work for peace. As the church, the Body of Christ, moves through the marketplace and side streets, it is a sign of God’s holy and healing presence, a responsibility the gospel compels us to take up. Let us pray and work for understanding, relief, and compassion in our communities. Let us recommit ourselves to the work of reconciliation which Jesus has shown us through the Gospel stories. Let us work to dispel fear and then draw people into healthy interdependent relationships where we can act locally to make a global difference.

 

On this Ash Wednesday, may God’s gracious love guide us into Lent and deeper trust as we follow Jesus. Our faith practices are not about us or what others might think. Jesus commands us to practice our faith in ways that focus on God, not ourselves. Jesus calls us to share our practices with God. Tonight, as we accept the sign of the cross on our foreheads, let us remember that we are Christians, and they will know us by our love.

 

Amen.