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Regardless of whether we find ourselves in the 1st Century like Jesus or Saint Paul, or in the 21st Century like we do today, communication has always been the linchpin for the Gospel to be successfully shared. The letters of the New Testament tell us that Saint Paul would travel from town to town and city to city to share his witness of Jesus Christ with the wider world. Upon his departure he would promise to continue to stay in contact with each community by letter, so that their commitment to one another in Christ would continue long after he had gone. For both the early Church and for our Church today, communication is key! In the 21st Century, we have far more communications tools at our fingertips than we ever might have imagined we would have, but too often the multitude of options means we do not use any of them very well. Throughout 2011, I made it a major priority to continue to find new and different ways to reach out to the emerging generation by means of Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and other forms of social media, while continuing to develop avenues for our parish family to find closer connections with one another through the Transcript Newsletter, our new and improving website, and often through the good old-fashioned means of letter writing. It has become abundantly clear to me that we must continue to utilize every means available to us to share the message of the Gospel with each other and with the world, so that we make it widely known that this community is a place where new people can come to know Jesus, and all people can come to call home.
In the early 1960’s, President John F. Kennedy gave a number of speeches in which he shared a story, which I think illustrates the crossroads at which our congregation stands today.
President Kennedy spoke of Frank O’Connor, an Irish writer, who tells in one of his books how, as a boy, he and his friends would make their way across the countryside, and when they would come to an orchard wall that seemed too high and too doubtful to try and climb – when they came to a wall that seemed too difficult to permit their voyage to continue – they would take off their caps and would toss them over the wall, so that they would have no choice but to follow them and climb.
In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus encourages his disciples not to worry about what they will eat, what they will drink, or what they will wear, but to trust that God will provide. Jesus instructs his disciples to take a ‘leap of faith,’ to strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and then to find that all that they need will be given to them as well.
My brothers and sisters, it is not us, but it is God who has thrown his cap over the wall. It is not us, but God who is leading us to a beautiful transfigured place that can be found on the other side. Today, we gather as a family on this Vestry Sunday, to make decisions about how we will follow where he is asking us to go. So I invite you to come with me. I invite you to take off your cap as well. I invite you to throw it up and into the air and watch it disappear on the other side of the wall. Let us climb that wall together. Let us follow in the footsteps of our Lord.
The conversion of Saint Paul – or the conversion of any other person for that matter – is not so much about a conversion from one religion (or from no religion) to the Christian religion. Nor is it even so much about the conversion from being a persecutor of Christians to an apostle of Christ, or a ridiculer of the faithful to a believer in something more.
Conversion to following Jesus, was, is and must be something far more radical than that.
Conversion to following Jesus is accepting a call from God to invite all people, from every nation, to participate in the coming of the Kingdom. It is a call from God for each one of us to faithfully and actively build up the kingdom that Christ proclaimed; a kingdom where peace, justice, love and redemption will come to encompass all of God’s creation.
My brothers and sisters, our conversion is our acceptance of the forgiveness which God offers, our conversion is living our life in God’s abundant love – and so we actively participate in the conversion of others, so that they too will know such forgiveness and such love.
Have you ever noticed that by the first day of February, very few people are still talking about the New Year’s resolutions that their friends, their family, and even themselves had made? Have you ever noticed that many of the resolutions have fallen by the waist-side, and that most people have been unable to succeed? I used to make one almost every year – and I used to spend Christmas telling everyone about the changes that I was about to make. But for me, I never seemed to be able to live up to the changes that I hoped the resolutions would bring. Over the years, I have learned that there is an inherent lie found in the practice of New Year’s resolutions. Not an intentional lie, really, or something evil or malicious that we do, but a lie that is present in the foundation and the premise of resolutions which tell us that they will make us different this year. That giving up smoking, drinking, junk food, or another habit will somehow reset our lives so that we can start fresh. That the 2012 version of ourselves will somehow be a new and improved version – a fundamentally different person than the “us” we were last year. There are two really big problems with this lie. First, the lie denotes that it is our bad habits that are what need fixing. It pretends that the habits themselves are the problem, when in fact, the bad habits and less positive aspects of our character – only point – to the deeper void or emptiness that we are experiencing. A deeper void and emptiness that we are often trying like hell to fill as fast as we can, with whatever we can, so that no one will see how broken we really are. Second, this lie denotes that the “us” who lives with the void, the “us” who suffers from the emptiness, the last year’s version of ourselves with all the bad habits and things we dislike about ourselves, was not a person who was loved amidst our flaws, or someone for whom God did not cherish for exactly who we are. The lie tells us that we somehow have to change ourselves for the world to find our value; we somehow have to change ourselves so that God can find his love.
This past week, while perusing different Facebook pages, I came across a newspaper article about a very provocative advertisement upon a billboard in Auckland, New Zealand. In what appears to be a teenage actor in an after school special, the picture upon the billboard displays a young woman with her hand covering her mouth and a stunned, scared look in her eyes. She holds in her other hand a positive pregnancy test, and is reacting astonished, yet terrified.
The reason I took so much notice of this billboard is because the picture upon it is not a warning for teenage pregnancy, as one might think at first glance, but it is a modern depiction of the Virgin Mary, sponsored by a church in their community taking a serious risk.
The advertisement has caught the attention of the world wide press and has been condemned by all the usual suspects. Many Evangelical leaders have called it a “disgraceful display” and some Roman Catholics have condemned it as a “perversion of the Blessed Virgin.” But although the billboard caught me off guard at first, the more I have prayed and thought about it, I actually think it pushes us in a very helpful direction.
We know that Mary was poor. We know that she was yet to be married. We know that women in her culture were mostly invisible, unless they were about to be condemned. The central figure of today’s gospel had every right to be terrified. She had every right to stand up and ask God why he would ask this of her. This would not have been an exciting moment in her life – just as the billboard portrays – for this unexpected pregnancy would have been an impending nightmare, just as it can be for many today.
So when we hear the gospel of the calling for Christ’s birth, when we hear the story of Mary’s call to birth and mother him, it is important not to romanticize what is actually happening in this scene – to acknowledge that she does not immediately jump for joy, or answer God with an automatic or overwhelming “yes.”
“Prophecy” is one of those words that conjure up thoughts of crystal balls and fortune tellers; the likes of Nostradamus and other predictors of the future. But we, as followers of Jesus, must understand “prophecy” to be something much different. We, as Disciples of Christ, must come to understand “prophecy” as something much more.
The prophetic voice heard in scripture does not predict the future, as some would immediately guess, but rather it announces what is already happening in the world. Isaiah’s purpose has very little, if not nothing, to do with the predicting of the end of the exile, but his words call his people to open their eyes to see what God is doing in their world.
As the the Book of Isaiah tells us, the prophet is sent to proclaim God’s good news to God’s people: to proclaim liberty to the captives, release to the prisoners, and comfort to the broken hearted – the prophet Isaiah is sent to joyfully announce to God’s people, that God’s restoration is not only coming, but that God’s restoration has already begun.
Advent is a season that I have always had mixed feelings about.
When I was a kid, an incredibly impatient kid for that matter, I didn’t like Advent because it took too long. I didn’t like Advent because I preferred Christmas, and Advent just never seemed to be finished soon enough.
As an adult, and as a preacher to boot, I often find myself struggling with Advent again, but for different reasons now. I find this time of year difficult, as the weather is getting colder and the light dims to darkness earlier in the day, and it seems as though outdoor activities seem to happen less and less. It feels like it will be forever, before the warmth will emerge and the light will beat back the darkness, so that we can go outside again.
The season of Advent arrives, and I am reminded that there is some serious waiting to do. Perhaps, I am still that impatient kid.
Advent calls us to a period of expectant waiting – a time of anticipating God’s fulfilling his promises again. It is a time of knowing that something is coming, but it is a time when we are forced to live in a period of ‘almost’ but ‘not yet.’ It is a very different thing than waiting for something you aren’t sure is going to happen – like waiting for the Maple Leafs to win the Stanley Cup – because waiting in Advent is waiting expectantly for something you know is on its way, but with absolutely no control over the fact that it hasn’t come yet.
“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.”
Is it just me or do many of you hear the words of Handel’s Messiah singing their way through in the words of the Old Testament reading today? These are familiar words – words that many of us have heard and read and sung throughout our lives – words of the Advent season and the calling for Christmas time – words that like many which are said over and over again, have perhaps started to lose their meaning a little, and call us to perhaps take a closer look again.
The prophet speaking in the Old Testament reading today speaks with a desperate urgency as his addresses a people in exile. The prophet Isaiah speaks to them with compassion and mercy as he tells his people that their day of suffering is almost over; that God will again rescue his people and that they will return to their Promised Land.
But the prophet’s words of comfort and his cries of compassion fall upon many a deaf ear.
What the snapshot from our lectionary fails to outline for us this morning is how desperate a situation Isaiah find himself in. His people have been stripped of their homes, and separated from their land, denied access to their worship, and forced to live in foreign Babylon amongst their oppressors. And because the people have been in exile for so many years, many do not even remember the place from where they first came.
Isaiah recognizes that God’s people have lost hope and have lost faith, and so the prophet cries aloud: “Comfort, o comfort my people, says your God… you have served your term and your penalty has been paid.” Isaiah tells his people that even as they have lost their faith in God, God has not lost his faith in them. He proclaims aloud for all to hear his words, that God will restore what humanity has destroyed, and so they must prepare the way for the work which God is about to do.
This past week, the Globe and Mail released an article, which asked the question of Canadians as to whether or not they were truly aware of what they were giving up in exchange for lower taxes. The article begs some very serious consideration by all non profit organisations, and especially by those who provide social services. While serving at St Paul’s Cathedral in London ON, where social services are an integral part of the ministry at the church, the congregation watched a very steep incline of guests at the Fellowship Center lunch programme and the Daily Bread food bank over the last decade and a half. Many of the services which at one time had strong governmental support, were steadily relied on more heavily by the charitable organisations in the city, as taxes fell and funding was reduced. The Cathedral bore much of the city’s needs. There were many times when the Board of Social Services at St Paul’s was forced to ask ourselves if we could really continue to provide for the needs of so many, as the numbers went up much faster than fundraising could often match. Matthew 25 tells us that in the end we will not be judged by our sins vs. good deeds, or by our purity vs. our rebelliousness, but by the times when we encountered Christ in our midst as the naked, the hungry or the afflicted and gave him clothes, food, or comfort – or not.
Liberal or Conservative, we as Christians are called to care for the least of these as a united body and not just with a personal cheque.
Throughout different times in our lives, God takes each of one of us to the mountaintop for a glimpse at something greater. Sometimes without even knowing it we experience a place where God is taking us. When a new baby is born and a mother looks deeply into the eyes of her child, the Promised Land is seen in full view. When a husband of sixty years marriage sits at the bedside of his dying wife, and they share in one last embrace, together they look out into the Kingdom of God. When a nurse in Africa feeds an HIV infected child that won’t live out the month – through the love and comfort that is given to them, that child tastes the Promised Land. In our broken world we don’t live in the Promised Land or the Kingdom of God day by day, I don’t think that any of us can argue with that, but by God’s grace from time to time, he gifts us with a glimpse from the mountaintop. He points to the Kingdom that Christ proclaimed.
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