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An experienced preacher was asked, “What one piece of advice would you give to young preachers?” He said, “Every time you preach, always ask why others should believe what you’re saying.”

I call it the “So What Test.” It’s good advice. Why should you believe what I say up here? How does this sermon point to life for us all? Is it true? Is it worth saying? What difference does it make? So what?

That advice is particularly apt today. It’s Trinity Sunday. We are encouraged on this day to explore the Christian doctrine of Three–in–One.

Honestly, for me this Sunday is about the most difficult Sunday on which to preach. I don’t think about the Trinity much. In fact, I think about it maybe … one day a year.

Even though we don’t think about Trinity much, we are surrounded by language about the Trinity in worship every week. We treat it almost as a formula: “the grace of Christ, the love of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you.” Or we sing the Creed, which is built around the Trinity: “I believe in God … I believe in Jesus Christ … I believe in the Holy Spirit…”. Every Eucharistic prayer mentions the Trinity. All that we do in worship is filled with trinitarian language and understanding.

It’s just there … kinda like wallpaper. We hardly notice it … except for today.

You won’t find the word in the Bible, although there are several passage which mention Father, Son, Holy Spirit. So if it’s not biblical, where does it come from?

It was developed in the 4th century, as a response to a series of controversies. This doctrine was born in conflict. In the early centuries, the church was trying to figure out the right way to believe. There were many such controversies and fights in the early church.

In the case of this doctrine, it was developed as the result of a debate about how God, Jesus, and the Spirit are related to each other. God was divine. But what about Jesus? Was he really the Son of God? On the other hand, was Jesus really human, or did he only appear to be human? And if Jesus is God, is he equal with God or just a little bit less than God? And where does the Holy Spirit fit into all this?

As one scholar puts it, “this doctrine developed not out of a desire to understand God, but rather as part of a vendetta against heresies.”

And while that might be important for theologians and philosophers to wrestle with, it doesn’t feed my spiritual life much. I live my life with these convictions:

Having said all that, I also need to say that there is one aspect of Trinity which does speak to me. This doctrine describes the Godhead as a three–fold community. In doing so, it tells us that at the heart of God is a deep sense of relationship.

In 1411, Russian icon painter Andrei Rublev produced a masterpiece. He called it “The Hospitality of Abraham”, based on the story of the three mysterious visitors to Abraham in Genesis 18 who announce that Sarah will soon give birth.

https://www.soulshepherding.org/2012/08/enjoy-the-hospitality-of-the-trinity-with-rublevs-icon/

The icon pictures the three mysterious beings around a table, , sharing food and drink. Because it’s three, people have also seen it as the quintessential icon of the Holy Trinity. People have been drawn into the mystery of this icon, drawn into the community painted in this icon.

Their faces are nearly identical, but they’re dressed in different colors. The Father wears gold, the Son blue, and the Spirit green. The Father gazes at the Son. The Son gazes back at the Father, but gestures towards the Spirit. The Spirit gazes at the Father, but points toward the Son with one hand. All three hold a staff, Rublev’s way of painting them as equals.

As we gaze more deeply, we notice that the Spirit opens up the circle with the other hand … as if to make room for others to join the sacred meal. There is room at the table. The icon shows us clearly that the three invite us into the circle of love. We are drawn into the intimacy of the three. There is a place at the table for all of us. We become part of the intimate dance of the three, eating and drinking together, held together in love and community.

Here, I think, is part of the heartbeat of the story of Three–in–One. The life of God is built in relationship. There is no exclusivity in the heart of God. This icon does not paint the three as some sort of high school clique. Rather, here we find the heart of God as God offers radical hospitality.

The three are always ready to add another. The three are always extending an invitation. The three are always making the holy table more expansive, more welcoming, more open. The openness of the three displays to us the life of love … that the more deeply the love between the three grows, the more welcoming the life of faith becomes, the more open the life of love becomes, the more celebratory the life of joy becomes.

And for us, the closer we draw to the three, the wider and more hospitable our hearts grow towards the world.

For me, that’s part of the essence of what it means to be church — that we become a welcoming, graceful, grateful, and open community. It’s part of our Vision Statement — “All are welcome!”

All.

Not just some.

All.

And not just welcome in the sense of “if we build it they will come”, but welcome in the sense that we actively reach out and invite others to find the same life that we have found in this welcoming and hospitable three. Like the holy three, we draw people into our life as a community of faith.

So while I don’t much like this doctrine, I also know that Trinity is not just some weird math problem. When we focus on three in one or one in three, we miss the point.

It may have been born in conflict. It may have been developed to set strict boundaries, so we could know who was in and who was out. But we don’t need to maintain those boundaries. We can open them up today and see anew that God is always opening God’s heart to us, and that God invites us to open our hearts to one another.

To use the words from John 3, we are being born into a new way of living. We are being born into a new way of being. We are being born into a whole new way which is marked by grace and relationship and radical hospitality.

In response to the preacher at the beginning of this sermon, why should we believe this? Because I think such radical hospitality is at the heart of faith, and that it makes a difference.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

May 27, 2018 (1st Sunday after Pentecost, Trinity Sunday)

Isaiah 6: 1–8

Romans 8: 12–17

John 3: 1–17

 

 

 

Today is Pentecost. On this day, we celebrate the gift of Spirit and life and communication.

The first reading from Ezekiel is a wonderful parable about the gift of God who breathes life into a people who had lost hope. In both Hebrew and Greek, the languages of the Bible, the word for “breath” and “wind” is the same word as “Spirit”. Whenever you read wind or breath, think spirit. “Breathe on me, breath of God,” we sang a moment ago. Fill us with your Spirit, fill us with your power, fill us with your love and grace is what we were singing.

Today, however, I want to focus on the gift of communication, which leads to the gift and miracle of communion. Let me start with a story I learned a while ago.

In 1492, in Salamanca, Spain, Bishop Antonio de Nebrija wrote a textbook on Spanish grammar. It was the very first grammar book about a language other than Latin. No other European country had a book like this about their common language. Who needed it? Everyone who counted spoke the language of the country in which they lived.

When Bishop Nebrija presented his book to Queen Isabella, she was confused. “Why would I want a book like this? I already know the language!”

The bishop explained why he had written it. “Language is the instrument, the tool, of empire,” he said. “After your Highness has conquered barbarous peoples and nations of varied tongues, they will need to accept the laws that we impose on them as their conquerors. They must speak our language, so that your victory will be complete.”

The bishop’s explanation made sense to the queen. She had her mind set on conquest. The New World was just waiting for Spain and other nations to conquer it. Of course, the Spaniards would need to impose their language on the barbarians they would conquer.

Language and empire. Colonialism involved imperial control through a common vocabulary, a single tongue. And, as anyone who speaks more than one language knows, language isn’t just a matter of words and vocabulary. A language contains a culture.

Today, the story in Acts 2 shows us that holy Spirit works in exactly the opposite way. There is no single way to tell the story of God’s dream. There is no single right way to tell our story. There is no single language to tell the story of God’s dream. There is no single way to experience the power of God’s love.

In this story, we see that holy Spirit honours our differences. Holy Spirit works in and through our differences. God affirms our differences. God delights in all the different ways we experience God’s love and tell the story of God’s dream.

Jerusalem was filled with people from all around the Mediterranean world. It was the Jewish festival of Shavuot, the Feast of Weeks. It’s a springtime festival for the blessing of the harvest. All these people have gathered for the festival in Jerusalem … and something astonishing happens.

The early church is gathered together in an upper room—the 11 original disciples, Matthias who had been selected to replace Judas, and other followers of Jesus, gathered in an upper room. They hear the sound of a wind. Whooooshhhhh. Think Spirit. They see tongues of fire dancing above the heads of each of them. Thing Spirit.

Wind and fire are strong Biblical symbols of God’s presence. God’s holy Spirit invades the room and they have a sense of God’s power flooding their lives. Holy Spirit fills them with courage and hope. They lose their fear, and they rush out into the streets, pushed out by that wind, to tell the story of God’s dream in all the different languages of those who had gathered in Jerusalem for the festival. Holy Spirit doesn’t speak in one language and then wait for it to be translated into many languages. Holy Spirit speaks in many languages. There is no single right way to tell of God’s love. There are many languages; there are many ways.

Unlike Nebrija’s grammar book, God’s holy Spirit affirms the native languages of all the peoples. Here is part of what the gift of God’s holy Spirit does. God invites us to honour the differences among us.

God honours our differences. In God’s economy, there is a profound richness in our variety. We are different people, created so by God, and we enrich our common life with that wondrous variety.

Too often, we let our differences separate us. But in God’s economy, that doesn’t happen. We come together in the midst of our differences. The very end of the story in Acts 2 is that those whose hearts were touched by the story of God’s dream came together around a common table to eat a common meal.

This is what holy Spirit does. She comes among us in our differences and creates community.

The sad history of the church is that too often, we have demanded uniformity. Everyone do things the same way, we have demanded! Believe the same way! Worship the same way!

But that’s not what this story says. This story says, “Revel in your differences. Enjoy the variety of what God has made. Delight in what you can learn from different ways of being.

Bishop Nebrija’s grammar book is one 500–year–old example.

Senator Murray Sinclair told us about a more recent example last Monday. He rehearsed the terrible story of residential schools. He spoke personally of the damage and pain that Canada caused when we thought that native peoples were savages and barbarians, and when we tried to recreate them in our image.

If you weren’t white, you didn’t count. If you didn’t come from an English ancestry, you didn’t count. If you didn’t look like us and talk like us, you were a savage. So we created residential schools to “beat the Indian out of them”, in the words of John A MacDonald.

The church was complicit in that brutal tale.

“We have to learn a new way,” Sinclair said. “We have to teach ourselves and we have to teach our children and we have to teach our grandchildren that all people are precious. We have to learn to get along with each other, to respect each other.”

When someone asked him at the end about what reconciliation looks like, he said, “I can’t say. It’s like a marriage. When two people marry each other, they don’t have a clue what their marriage will look like in 25 years. All they can do is promise each other that no matter what happens, they will stick with each other.

“Reconciliation is like that. You say to each other, ‘I want to be your friend. I want you to be my friend. I promise to work it out with you.’” And then you do the hard work and see where you end up.

That’s the gift of holy Spirit. Holy Spirit joins us together in that kind of friendship. Holy Spirit binds us together in that kind of community.

Today, holy Spirit gathers us together around this table. Holy Spirit draws us to share a common feast where we taste the story of God’s dream. Holy Spirit forms us into a common people. We who eat one bread are made one people who are deeply loved by God. We come with all our differences. We come with all the different ways in which we tell and hear the story of God’s love. Around this table, those differences don’t mean a thing. We are equal here.

At that first Pentecost, Holy Spirit gave the miracle of communication. That miracle birthed another miracle … a miracle of communion. As we commune, we open ourselves to Holy Spirit. As we commune, we open ourselves to God. As we commune together, we open ourselves to each other.

We need another Pentecost. In a world divided by hatred, prejudice, and oppression, we need another Pentecost. In a world where we have forgotten how to listen to each other, we need another Pentecost. In a world where our wealth can insulate us from poor people, we need another Pentecost. In a world where we have forgotten that we are one in our joys and one in our sorrows, we need another Pentecost. In a world where political discourse has become nasty, and where facebook and twitter have made our social media dysfunctional, we need another Pentecost. In a world where black and white are divided, we need another Pentecost. In a world where we can quite easily ignore those who are different from us, we need another Pentecost.

For the sake of the world, we need another Pentecost.

Make no mistake. We are here today as God’s people. We have opened ourselves to God’s holy Spirit. We gather as God’s people around God’s table. We celebrate our differences. More importantly, we celebrate the love of God which makes us one. We come as a community, bound together, struggling together to understand God, struggling together to understand each other. We gather around this table, committed to God and committed to one another.

And here, around this table, we understand again that our work is the ministry reconciliation, peace, compassion and love.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

May 20, 2018 (Pentecost Sunday)

Acts 2: 1–21

Ezekiel 37: 1–14

John 15: 26–27; 16: 4b–15

 

 

 

Today, in the first reading from Acts, we heard the minutes of the very first church meeting in history. Peter gives a report about what’s been happening. Then they get at the business of this meeting … to select a 12th disciple to replace Judas. They cast lots … which means they threw the dice or flipped a coin to make the choice. So9unds to me like an easier way to choose a priest … or elect a bishop.

All of that got me thinking about the Synod Anne, Gwen and I attended a few weeks ago. I emailed our reports to you this week, and I know you’ve all read them thoroughly, marked them, learned them and inwardly digested them.

As I reflected about the Synod meeting, I suddenly had a thought—“it was a good weekend.” Now, that’s a weird thought for me to have. I hardly ever think about a weekend–long meeting as “a good weekend”. Often, the business of such long church meetings is frustrating, tedious, mind–numbing and bum–numbing.

But it really was a good weekend. It was good to be with our Diocesan family. There was a good spirit throughout the meeting. Worship was good. The music was good. It was a good weekend.

I came out of that meeting hopeful. We are about to enter a new time in the life of our Diocese, and Archbishop John has left a good and strong legacy from his ministry among us. I believe he has strengthened the Diocese, encouraging and challenging us all to be active in our ministry as God’s people in the different places in this Diocese.

The final example of John’s legacy is the new priority which our Diocese set at the Synod meeting. We are going to spend the next 4–5 years engaging in a process of honest self–assessment and discernment. What are the gifts God has given to us as a church? Where are our strengths? Where are our weaknesses? What can we build on? What do we need to build up?

Now a cynical person might see that as the church engaging in another example of navel–gazing. But I don’t think so. The purpose of this process is to nurture faithful communities. And the purpose of faithful communities is to be fully engaged in the life and ministry of God in the world.

We’ve been doing some of that work here at Christ Church in the last few years. We’ve developed a Mission Statement which guides all that we do. I know you memorized it—after all, I asked you to do so, right?

“Christ Church Anglican, a progressive, inclusive and vibrant community, follows Jesus compassionately and faithfully. All are welcome!”

This says something about who we are and who we long to be. We are progressive—we are rooted in the past and always looking to the new future which God gives us, finding new ways to express and live out our faith. We are inclusive—we try to be a large tent which embraces all who wish to be part of us. We are vibrant—like a violin’s string, we pulsate with the music of God’s love, and our joy is palpable in our worship, our fellowship, our gathering together and our ministry in the world.

As a Vision Statement, it charges us to keep checking to see that we follow what we discern to be God’s call to us. In a previous church, I remember someone yelling at me in frustration and anger, “You’re always looking for new ways to do things. If it ain’t broke, preacher, don’t fix it.” And for once, I had the right answer at the right time. I said to him quietly, “Theologically, at some level everything we do is broken.”

We need to keep checking up on ourselves. We need to keep engaging in a process of self–examination. We always have to be asking if we’re being as faithful as we can be. We always have to look for something more.

It strikes me that this is what Jesus is praying for in today’s gospel reading. These are Jesus’ last words in the Gospel of John. Let’s stop there a moment.

The very last thing Jesus does is pray for us. This is the incredible love with which we are held. Jesus prays for us. His last thoughts are not for himself, but for us.

And what Jesus prays for us is that God might protect us.

And why should God protect us? So that we may be one with God and with each other, as Jesus was one with God.

To be one is only partly about unity. More importantly, what John means with this phrase is that we might share the divine life. It has to do with wholeness and integrity and deep fellowship. Being one with God means to love others with the same self–abandoning passion which God has for us. Being one with God means to set God’s gospel values as our first and highest priority. We share the divine life.

When we share the divine life, when we understand that God is within us and we are within God. We know that Jesus is in us — and that’s the protection for which Jesus prays. God’s life is within us. God is at work within us.

That means we can take risks—the same kind of risks which Jesus took in the name of love. We don’t try to stay safe at all costs. We don’t look for the easy way. We don’t take care of ourselves first. We don’t try to avoid the risky and costly business of bearing our cross.

When we share the divine life, then we can live and work in the world as God’s faithful people, because we know beyond a doubt that God’s loving and guarding presence surrounds us and is within us. When we share the divine life, then we can dare to live in ways that are different from the culture around us, because we know that God’s love holds us. When we share the divine life, we can dare to engage this broken world with the good news of God’s healing grace.

When we share the divine life, it means that we will also share the life of the world. We can get deeply involved and immersed in the mess of this world in the same way Jesus did. We can step out boldly in our God–sized mission and know that we are not alone. We will go into the world, living out God’s gospel purposes, with a full and deep trust in God’s abundant provision for us.

That applies to so many things. It applies to how we use our time and energy. We can get involved in the lives of others. God renews us day by day.

It applies to how we use our money and resources. We can be generous people. We know that all that we have belongs to God, and we are called to render to God what belongs to God. We can live out of the certainty that God’s abundance continues to fill our lives, and we need not worry.

It applies to how we view the world in which we live. The whole world belongs to God, not to us. Our lives belong to God, not to us. Our families belong to God, not to us. Our very being belongs to God, not to us.

And if that’s true, if we really dare to believe that, then we will become the courageous and hopeful people we long to be. We will be the vibrant, inclusive and progressive community we long to be.

Sharing the divine life is a challenge. There’s no easy way to do this. I have looked for easy ways all my life. Believe me, I have tried. But I can’t find it. If we want to be followers of Jesus, we need to walk in the way of the cross. We need to learn to get out of the way of God as God works through us.

Other things will take care of themselves. “Follow me.” That’s the invitation. And now, as he prepares to die, Jesus asks God, “Protect them. Keep them safe. So they may be one as we are one. So they may share the divine life a we share the divine life.”

Now what I’ve just said probably sounds so very strange to most of us. Why would we give? Why would we give ourselves in this way? Why would we put ourselves and our families second?

There’s only one reason. We have experienced God’s love, and we want to be God’s people. That’s it. There’s no easy way to do that. We do our bit in such a way that God can do his bit through us.

And that, dear friends, that is the way of abundant life. It is the way of grace and compassion. It is the way of wholeness.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

May 13, 2018 (7th Sunday of Easter)

John 17: 9–13

Acts 1: 15–17, 21–26

1 John 5: 9–13

 

I have a friend who has a friend … Tim is a Lutheran pastor who freely admits that he is a liturgical, theological and musical snob. His favourite rant was about the hymn, “In the Garden.” He hated it; it is a mawkish and sentimental little ditty. He really didn’t like it.

One night, Tim was called to the hospital. An elderly parishioner was in his last hours of life. The family surrounded the bed, said the final prayers commending him to the care of God. Tim says that the dear old salt–of–the–earth farmer looked up, smiled and said, “I love every one of you. I’m ready to go. And I love Pastor Tim too and I love his voice and I know he’s going to sing ‘In the Garden’ for you at my funeral.” At that very moment, he died.

Tim says, “This is how you know God has a sense of humour.” He continues, “Last words are sacred, holy ground. I was trumped by love and the power of last words.”

We’ve been reading some of Jesus’ last words in the gospel of John over the last few weeks. It begins just after Jesus and the disciples finish the last supper. Jesus grabs a towel, acts like a slave and washes his disciples’ feet. He gives them a new commandment—“Love one another. Just as I loved you, so you must love one another.”

This is the heart of Jesus’ last words: love one another. If we accept the notion that last words are important, then here is the heart of the gospel for John: love one another. This is the key to abundant life—love one another. “If you love me,” says Jesus, “show it by doing what I’ve told you. This is how you abide in me. Love me by loving each other.”

Last week, Jesus used the image of vine and branches to describe our relationship. We receive abundant life by remaining deeply connected to Jesus. We discover what it means to be truly alive as we abide in Jesus.

And when we are truly alive, we become a fruitful people. And the fruit which God desires above all else is this:

And when we do that, when we bear that kind of fruit, Jesus says something that takes my breath away—when you love each other that fully, then you will no longer be my servants. You will be my friends.

Imagine that.

Friends of God.

Being friends these days is not such a big deal. We friend each other on facebook without a second thought. People talk about their acquaintances as if they were friends.

But in the ancient world, friendship was a much bigger deal. Friendship implied the deepest kind of intimacy and trust. Friends open their hearts to each other. Friends speak face to face, and keep no secrets from each other.

You are my friends. I want a deep and intimate relationship with you. I want to know your heart, and I want you to know my heart. I want to be with you, spend time with you, talk deeply with you. I want to be open with you, and you with me.

This is how deeply God loves us. Don’t just show up once a week. Walk with me day by day, minute by minute. Love me as I love you.

That’s why we’re here. We experience God’s love … don’t we? We know deep in our souls that God chooses us … don’t we? We long to respond to God’s love in the way we live … don’t we?

God chooses us. God’s love lifts us. God’s love gives us hope. In the midst of the pain of this life, God’s love holds us so we can see a farther horizon of joy and grace.

That doesn’t mean that life will always be easy. It won’t. As St Teresa of Avila once prayed, “Dear Lord, if this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!”

On the day before his marriage, Joseph Scriven’s fiancée died in a tragic drowning accident. Heartbroken, he sailed from Ireland to start a new life in Canada. There, he fell in love again. But once again, his fiancée Eliza fell ill and died before the marriage. Around the same time, Joseph received word that his mother was ill. He could not go to be with her, so he wrote her a letter of comfort and enclosed a poem. Years later, the poem was discovered and set to music—“What a friend we have in Jesus.”

Faith doesn’t take the pain of life away. It helps us persevere through it. Faith simply says that we don’t walk alone. Faith tells us that our life has value and purpose, that God walks with us, that the love of God surrounds us. Life, in all its abundance, comes to us as sheer gift and grace. We are loved, deeply and passionately loved—you, me, all people, all creatures, all creation.

And that love of God for us in turn inspires our own love for others. As God befriends us, so we befriend others. As God loves us, so we love others.

It strikes me that we need love so desperately these days. In the words of the old song, “What the World Needs Now … is Love”. We all need to be loved. We need to feel love. We need to express love. I believe that is at the heart of what it means to be human. And I believe also that’s why God made us, why God chooses us, why God longs to be in relationship with us. I believe this is why Jesus commands us to love.

Bishop Jim Cruickshank used to say, “There is nothing you can do which will make me love you any more. There is nothing you can do which will make me love you any less.”

When we live in love, then we live without any conditions. There are no tests. No achievements. No competition. No judgment. No self–improvement projects.

That’s the nature of God’s love for us.

That’s the way Jesus calls us to live.

The really hard line in this reading is when Jesus says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Jesus invites us to a life lived for others. Sometimes it may cost us our life. Normally, however, we don’t pay with our lives. We show our love for others by giving time … or money … or energy … or compassion.

Let me suggest this as a way of understanding Jesus’ words: “There is no greater unconditional love than when someone gets their own needs and their own ego out of the way for another person.”

No greater love than to get out of the way in the service of another.

As we live in love, we transform the world. As we live in love, we change our church and our culture. We gather here week by week as a community of God’s people. We are not all the same. We all do things differently. But we are God’s people together. We are a community bound together in our baptism, and bound together as we gather for eucharist.

In love, we gather around this altar where all our distinctions are washed away. In love, we gather around this altar to be renewed in God’s love together. In love we are renewed so that we continue our worship in the world as we reach out in love to our neighbours all around us.

When we understand that, then we also see that Christian faith calls us to be real. Church is not meant to be fake. Life’s too short for fake.

Being friends of Jesus in this way is about as real as it gets. Being loved this deeply by God is about as real as it gets. Learning to love others in this way is about as real as it gets.

Psalm 98 urges us to sing to God, who is doing a new ting. This is it. God makes us friends … and lovers. Love levels the playing field. We are servants no longer; now we are friends of God. And because we are friends of God, we are also friends to one another. We are joined together in community, in that kind of deep fellowship which seeks the good of the other.

That’s the life of the gospel. It’s the life to which we are called. This is abundant life, a life of joy, compassion, grace and love.

Friends of God, and lovers of one another.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

May 6, 2018 (6th Sunday of Easter)

John 15: 9–17

1 John 5: 1–6

Acts 10: 44–48

As I reflect on the last two weeks, a common theme emerges, which is tied together by today’s gospel reading.

Two weeks ago, I was in Fernie. We talked together there about what it means to be the church. What is the very heart of our identity as God’s people. Who are we? Who are we being called to be?

Last Sunday, I was at our Diocesan Synod, along with Gwen Baril and Anne McMichael. Let me give you a brief report now, and if you want to learn more, all three of us will be writing reports which will be emailed to those for whom I have an email address; hard copies will also be available for you to pick up.

The theme of Synod was “Though we are many, we all belong together.” Unity in diversity.

We did some business at the Synod. We revised the Canons (which are the rules by which the Diocese plays the game). The most significant revision was the canon to elect a new bishop, which was completely changed. We have a whole new process in place, and it will be tested immediately, right after Bishop John’s retirement on May 31.

We looked at financial statements, and all of that kind of stuff. Important … but ho hum. We elected members of the Diocesan Council, delegates to Provincial Synod in September and also to General Synod next July. Anne is now a member of all three of those bodies, so she’s going to be real busy.

We conducted a brief discussion about the impact of the vote to make changes to the Marriage Canon which will be decided at the General Synod next July. How might our Diocese proceed if the change are approved? How might our Diocese proceed if the changes are not approved?

We took time for a wonderful tribute to John on his upcoming retirement. Our Primate, Fred Hiltz, was there. Fred is such a warm, generous, fun–loving, compassionate person. He gave a tribute to John from the National Church and the House of Bishops which touched us all very deeply.

Finally, we listened to a couple of talks by Jay Koyle, who is the Congregational Development officer for the Diocese of Algoma. He was brought in to help us begin to think together about what it means to be a healthy congregation. This will be a priority for our Diocese over the next few years, and every congregation will be invited to engage in a process of seeing how we’re doing.

The essence of Jay’s talks focused on how we can be God’s people today, living on the strength of God’s promises for tomorrow. How can we live out the ministry of God, which God invites us to share? How can we be a vital and vibrant community of people who make a difference in Cranbrook and the region?

In fact, our Vision Statement at Christ Church declares this very thing. This is who we say we are: “Christ Church Anglican, a progressive, inclusive and vibrant community, follows Jesus compassionately and faithfully. All are welcome!”

Let me suggest that we all memorize that Vision Statement. Engrave it in your mind and on your heart. It needs to be at the heart of everything we do here. So that’s your homework this week. Memorize it. Learn it. Live on the basis of it. Challenge me and the Wardens and the Church Committee about whether we’re making decisions based on that understanding.

Our gospel reading this morning says something about the source of our being.

“I am the true vine,” says Jesus.

Notice that Jesus doesn’t just say, “I am the vine.” He adds the word true. There are other vines that grow in the world, and much too often, we seek other vines looking for life, hungering to be nurtured. Much too often, the siren song of other vines stimulates us to look in the wrong places. Too often we seek the source of life in wealth, or influence, or appearance, or our achievements.

But Jesus says to us, “I am the true vine.” Be rooted in me. Be grafted into me, and you will find life. Draw nourishment from the soil of God’s love and let God’s love flow deep into your life. Let your whole life vibrate with the joy and grace and compassion of God’s love flowing through you.

“I am the true vine,” says Jesus. I am the source of abundant life. I alone can give you the life for which you dream, the life for which our world yearns.

This life, this abundant life is not for the future. It is for here and now. I am the tree of life. My roots are sunk deep into the life of God. Be rooted and grounded in God, and you will yield rich and abundant fruit. Find life in the vine, and you receive abundant life, life in all its fullness, life with all its joy, life with all its hope, life beyond your wildest dreams.

Bear that fruit and you will be that inclusive and vibrant community. Then people will be drawn to me through you because the fruit you bear is so wonderful and enticing and attractive, awesome fruit which makes life whole and good.

“I am that true Vine. I am the tree of Life. Come and let your lives be grafted into my Life.”

That’s what it means when Jesus invites us, “Abide in me as I abide in the Father.” As the vine draws nourishment from the soil and the sun, so we draw nourishment from the love of God shown to us in Jesus. It’s an image of fruitfulness and intimacy and love.

Abide in me is the promise that no matter what happens, Jesus is with us. No matter what happens, Jesus will hold on to us. No matter what happens, God in Jesus will be present to heal and make whole.

Abide in me. Hang in there with me. Persevere with me. Commit to me. Continue with me. Make yourselves at home in my love, in my life, in my dream.

It’s a difficult thing to do. We so much want to be independent. We want to stand on our own two feet. We want to be on our own.

But Jesus invites us into community. Jesus invites us to be interdependent. All y’all abide in me.

This is what a person of faith looks like—someone who, throughout all of life, holds on to Jesus, holds on to God. When we are connected with the vine, we flourish. When we become disconnected, we wither and we die spiritually.

One last thing. When we abide in Jesus, we discover that it’s a 2–way process. We abide in Jesus, which means that we abide in his love. As we abide in the love of God, we grow in our ability to love one another. 1st John reminds us this morning of the great commandment. To love God means to love one another. If we love one another, then God lives in us.

When we abide in love, we abide in God, and God abides in us. It’s a beautiful movement between us and God. God becomes part of us as we are part of God. God’s spirit bonds with our spirits. God’s grace opens our hearts so that we respond to the world in grace and love.

This is what allows us to love all people. God’s grace, God’s compassion, opens our lives up so that we in turn reach out to all others. We don’t have to like them, but we are clearly called to love.

That’s how we respond to the driver of the van in Toronto this week. That’s how we respond to those who perpetrate violence of any kind. That’s how we reach out to a world which needs to know the power of love so that we may have life.

Often, in the face of violence, my heart mourns as I cry out, “How? Why? How could you do this?” But then, as I remember the command to love, as I remember that my life is found in the vine, in the one who loves us so dearly and so passionately … then my broken heart reaches out to say, in the words of an Anglican priest in Toronto, “You weren’t born this way. You weren’t born to hate. You weren’t born to create violence and terror. You were made in the image and likeness and love of God. Just like me, you were known in your mother’s womb and cherished by our creator.

“But like us all, you were born into a broken and fractured world, with the prospect and possibility of acts of goodness and the treachery of deceit. This is who you became.

“And so I pray for you, perpetrator, on this day when you rained down terror and trepidation. I pray for you because part of me wants to hate you and I can’t. I pray for you so I won’t become what you have become today. I pray for you because Jesus says it is the only way.

“I pray that our world might become the world which Jesus promised us—a world where there are no more tears, no more crying, no more pain.”

I am the true vine. As you are connected with me, you will find life. Abide in me, receive abundant life, and know that God abides in you.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

April 29, 2018 (5th Sunday of Easter)

John 15: 1–8

1 John 4: 7–21

Acts 8: 26–40

 

Greetings from Christ Church, Cranbrook.

Greetings from your brothers and sisters in the East Kootenay region.

Greetings from Archbishop John, whose prayers are with us this morning.

I want to talk with you this morning about what it means to be the church. So I’m just going to ignore the Scriptures we just read … and I’m not normally very comfortable with doing that. Today is a time to step outside my comfort zone.

That’s appropriate, because I suspect that some of the things I’m going to say this morning, both in worship and in our meeting following worship will challenge us, and take us all outside our comfort zone.

So what is it to be the church?

Sometimes a good way into the subject is to say what the church is not.

The church is not a building. I’m sure we’ve all heard this before, but let’s put it out there. We’re so used to talking about “going to church” as if the church was a destination, a place to go to. But this building is not the church. Above all, the church is a people, a community.

Now to be honest, we need buildings where the church can meet. But this building is not the church. It merely houses the church.

A love song was released in the early 1980’s which illustrates my point. “A chair is still a chair, even when there’s no one sittin’ there; but a chair is not a house and a house is not a home when there’s no one there to hold you tight, and no one there you can kiss goodnight.” You may remember it.

In the same way, this building’s not a church if there’s not a faithful community here living out God’s mission and ministry in this place in this time. And the building doesn’t define our identity as the church. If we think the church is a building … then we have to change our thinking.

The church is not a social club. While it’s true that fellowship is an important part of forming Christian community, that’s not what makes us the church. It’s a good thing to gather with friends and neighbours, but that’s not the essence of who we are as the church, the people of God. What makes us the church is that we gather together as God’s people to listen to the divine promptings to live out God’s mission and ministry in this place. If we think the church is a social club … then we have to change our thinking.

Thirdly, the church is not a voluntary association. In my mind, thinking of the church as a voluntary association is one of the most dangerous ways of thinking. A voluntary association is like a quilting bee or a hobby club or a yoga class. Members choose to be part of it because they’re interested in it. You can come or not, depending on whether you feel like it.

The church is not like that. We are the church because God calls us into community. We live in the world as a people who have been claimed by God. We have yielded ourselves to God. We will do what God invites us to do. We will be who God invites us to be. We are minister of God’s purposes.

Now, we do have a choice in this. We can choose to ignore God’s invitation. But if we do so, if we refuse to live as people who are claimed by God, then we fail to be God’s people. Then we are not the church. If we think the church is a voluntary association … then we have to change our thinking.

 

So if that’s what the church is not … then what is the church?

There are many different ways to answer that question. Our Diocese has been working on a process for the last 2 years or so called Nurturing Faithful Communities. It’s coming up for discussion at Synod next weekend. I’m going to take my lead from that document. Every congregation will be invited to participate in a process to assess our strengths and our weaknesses according to five qualities which mark a vibrant congregation.

1) A vibrant congregation is immersed in baptismal living.

We are God’s baptized people. That means a whole pile of stuff

These promises encompass our whole lives. We live within the love of God, and we reach out to love our neighbours. Baptismal living means to make the Great Commandment the very heart of our lives.

2) A vibrant congregation is patterned by a particular story.

This story begins and ends with God. This story finds its Source and Goal in God. It’s a story about God who acts to set God’s people free from every form of bondage. In this story, God calls us to respond by becoming a people of freedom and grace and compassion. God invites us to follow Jesus, to walk in the way of the cross, and to serve the world.

It’s a story of resurrection. But the problem with resurrection is that you have to die before you can be raised. So the heart of our story has to do with self–giving love. This is the self–giving love modelled by Jesus. This is the self–giving love to which we are called as we walk in the way of the cross.

That’s our story. It goes against the story which the world likes to tell. The world’s story is about how to become more comfortable, more successful, richer. Get what you can while you can. The one with the most toys at the end wins. Never let them see you sweat.

That’s the story the world tells. But it’s not the gospel story, and the gospel story sets the pattern for our lives.

3) A vibrant congregation is shaped by active hope.

When we live in hope, we choose the ways of life. During Lent, we heard Jesus say in John’s gospel, “I came that you may have life in all its abundance.” Choosing life  means to follow in the way of the one who gives us life. That way leads to a cross … and that’s the paradox of Christian hope.

In Lent, we also heard Jesus say in Mark’s gospel, “If anyone wants to be my follower, you have to deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me.”

That’s not easy stuff. In fact, it’s hard. Jesus is talking about life and death. The truth of Christian faith is that when we do everything in our power to make our lives more secure, more comfortable, easier, then we have settled for second best. When we try to save our lives, we will lose them.

To live in hope is to trust the God of life. To live in hope is to walk in the way of the cross. To live in hope means denying ourselves in order to love others. To live in hope is to revel in the abundant life given by Jesus, which consists of self–giving love.

4) A vibrant congregation is transformed as a people.

This is where that last piece was leading to. We have to let the gospel seize us. We need to be shaped in the image of Jesus. Abundant life is about being transformed, and living in countercultural ways.

We resist the world’s story, and we let the gospel story grasp us. We live our lives according to God’s gospel values. So because we are God’s people, we set different priorities. We seek to live in God’s gospel way of love, compassion, and grace.

5) A vibrant congregation is caught up in an on–going mission.

Sometimes people say that the church has a mission. That’s not true. God has a mission, and God invites the church, the people of God, to participate in that mission.

John Dominic Crossan talks about this as “God’s great cleanup project in the world.”

Michael Curry calls this “getting involved in the Jesus movement.”

The question facing us always is “What is God up to? And how can we get involved in what God is doing?”

 

Here’s one way of talking about what it means to be the church. We are immersed in baptismal living, patterned by a particular story, shaped by active hope, transformed as a people, and caught up in an on–going mission.

The church doesn’t exist for its own sake. We are here in the name of God for the sake of the world. Not a building or a social club or a voluntary association.

Following worship, we’re going to talk together about what it means to be the church here in Fernie. I want to invite you to stay following worship, to discuss together, to think together, to do the hard work together about how we move into God’s future. It’s an important conversation to have. Not only is it important, it is necessary. We are at a crossroads at Christ Church, Fernie.

But we engage in that conversation hopefully … because

We are the church.

We are the people of God.

We walk with Jesus in the way of the cross.

We seek, with every ounce of our being, to love God with all that we are, and to love this world which God loves with an intense and deep passion.

Thanks be to God.

 

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

April 15, 2018 (3rd Sunday of Easter)

Preached at Christ Church, Fernie

Acts 3: 12–19

1 John 3: 1–7

Luke 24: 36-48

The couple was celebrating their 60th anniversary. Both were 85 years old, and both were still in very good health, largely because the wife had insisted on healthy foods and exercise for the last ten years.

They decided to celebrate by going on vacation. The plane crashed and they ended up at the pearly gates. St. Peter escorted them inside, and took them to a magnificent mansion, beautifully furnished, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. They gasped in astonishment when he said, “Welcome to heaven. This will be your home now.”

The old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. “Why, nothing,” Peter replied. “Remember, this is your reward in Heaven.”

The old man looked out the window and saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on earth. “I’ll bet the greens fees are astronomical,” grumbled the old man.

“Nope,” said Peter. “This is heaven. You play for free, every day.”

They went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.

“Don’t even ask,” said Peter. “This is heaven. It’s all free. Enjoy!” The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife. “So where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods, and the decaffeinated tea?”‘ he asked.

“That’s the best part,” St. Peter replied. “You can eat and drink as much as you like, and you’ll never get fat or sick. This is heaven!”

The old man pushed, “No gym to work out at?”

“‘Not unless you want to.”

“No testing my sugar or blood pressure or…”

“Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.”

The old man glared at his wife and said, “You and your stupid bran muffins. We could have been here ten years ago!”

 

We’ve been celebrating the Easter laugh for 13 years. The tradition seems to come from a sermon preached in the 4th century by John Chrysostom. He imagined the risen Christ laughing at the joke God played on the devil by raising Jesus from the dead. He encouraged his people to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection on the day after Easter with laughter and joy. He called it the risus paschalis, the Easter laugh. What better way to celebrate the triumph of life over death?

It’s a wonderful way of reminding ourselves that at its heart, our faith is a joyful thing … and even with all the bad jokes I tell, you look forward to it. I know you do.

 

There is an old story of a man who kept falling asleep during the sermon. His priest was getting frustrated and, one Sunday, decided to teach the man a lesson.

As was his practice, he started to preach slowly, almost in a monotone, and sure enough, the man soon fell into a deep sleep. The priest then said to the congregation, “Everyone who wants to go to heaven, stand up.” Everyone stood, except the man who was fast asleep.

The priest asked everyone to sit. Then he gently said, “Everyone who wants to go to hell,” and with a bang on the pulpit and a rise in his voice, “stand up!”

The sleeping man snorted awake and jumped to his feet as everyone around started to snicker. The man looked at all the people sitting around him, then looked at the priest and said, “Preacher, I don’t know what we’re votin’ on. But it looks like you and me are the only ones in favour.”

 

George Burns once said that the secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending—and to have the two of them as close together as possible.

Laughter is one of the hallmarks of a healthy life. It is also the sign of a healthy spirit. Desmond Tutu, one of my heroes, used laughter to make his point all the time. And whenever you see him, he’s always smiling, laughing, having a good time. Laughter is a tool to help us deal in a healthy way with the difficulties of life.

 

A cranky old woman was arrested for shoplifting at a grocery store. She gave everyone a hard time, from the store manager to the security guard to the arresting officer who took her away. She complained and criticized everything and everyone throughout the process.

When she appeared before the judge, the judge asked her what she had stolen from the store.

The lady defiantly replied, “Just a stupid can of peaches.”

The judge then asked why she had done it. She replied, “I was hungry and forgot to bring any cash to the store.”

The judge asked how many peaches were in the can.

She replied in a nasty tone, “Nine! But why do you care about that?”

The judge answered patiently, “Well, ma’am, because I’m going to give you nine days in jail—one day for each peach.”

As the judge was about to drop his gavel, the woman’s long–suffering husband raised his hand slowly and asked if he might speak.

The judge said, “Yes sir, what do you have to add?”

The husband said meekly, “Your Honour, she also stole two cans of peas.”

 

The Bible also is full of laughter. When Abraham and Sarah have a son in their old age, they name him Isaac—which means “Son of Laughter”. Many of Jesus’ parables have situations which make us laugh out loud. Imagine the laughter when Jesus shows up to Thomas and says to him, “Go ahead. Put your fingers in.”

This is our faith. We celebrate a story of life in all its fullness. It’s a story of goodness and wholeness, justice and peace, healing and new life.

 

A blond goes into the Post Office to buy some stamps for her Christmas cards. She says to the clerk “May I have 50 Christmas stamps please?”

The clerk says “What denomination?”

The blond says “God help us. Has it come to this?” In exasperation she says “Give me 22 Catholic, 12 Anglican, 10 Methodist and 6 Baptist.”

 

One Sunday the priest told the congregation that the church needed some extra money. He asked the people to prayerfully consider giving a little extra in the offering plate. He mentioned that whoever gave the most would be able to pick out three hymns.

After the offering plates were passed, the priest glanced down and noticed that someone had placed a $1,000 bill in offering.

He was so excited that he called out, “I’d like to personally thank the person who placed the money in the plate.”

A very quiet, elderly, saintly lady all the way in the back shyly raised her hand.

The priest asked her to come to the front. Slowly she made her way to the front. He said how wonderful it was that she gave so much and told her she could pick out three hymns.

Her eyes brightened as she looked over the congregation, pointed to the three handsomest men in the building and said, “I’ll take him, and him, and him.”

 

I’ve told you before about my clinical depression. One of the things I learned when I finally came out of it was that I had forgotten how to laugh. Life had become a heavy burden, and it ground me into little bits. So for me, this kind of laughter is a powerful sign of good health, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

The laughter of faith comes when we know that we are living out of God’s abundance. If we are constantly pinching pennies, if we are worried, if we live in fear, if we live in anxiety, if we are never satisfied with our lives … we lose the ability to laugh. What a tragedy! Laughter says that we are content, that we know we are blessed, that we delight in life, that we are ravished by the beauty of the world, that we enjoy our lives and our world.

Someone once said, “What I have learned … is that the more you expect from life, the more your expectations will be fulfilled. By laughing, you do not use up your laughter, but increase your store of it. The more you love, the more you will be loved. The more you give, the more you will receive.”

G.K. Chesterton once wrote: “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly. Never forget that the devil fell by force of gravity. He who has the faith has the fun.”

May the holy laughter of Easter fill your lives. May God’s healing love embrace you in every moment of your lives, and may the last laugh of Easter fill your lives with hope and delight. May you live in the light of the risus paschalis, the Easter laugh each day of your lives. Most importantly, may you, when you go out into the world, take the Easter laugh with you.

Thanks be to God.

 

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

April 8, 2018 (2nd Sunday of Easter)

Acts 4: 32–35

1 John 1:1–2:2

John 20: 19–31

 

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

That’s how we greet each other throughout the 50 days of this Easter season.

Easter is not a time for long sermons trying to explain the unexplainable.

Today we celebrate. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Today we sing and dance and rejoice in the power of God’s life. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Today we tell stories. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

We tell the stories of the triumph of God’s love and God’s life. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Today we marvel at the awesome life–giving and powerful love of God. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Karl Barth, the 20th century theologian, once said that “the goal of human life is not death, but resurrection.”

That does not mean that death is not a fearsome reality. What it means is that death does not have the final word. It means that as an Easter people, we trust that the last word is God’s love and God’s life. That’s what we celebrate here today — the goal of human life is resurrection.

We celebrate that goal by telling stories. Every week in church, we tell the story. We tell the story of God’s amazing and wondrous love for the world. This is our story, for we are in indeed God’s people.

And, as we tell the story, we are saying, “This is who we want to be. This is who we will be. This is us.”

Listen to how Mark tells the Easter story. He tells it very simply.

A man dies a gruesome death. He wasn’t the only one—Rome executed thousands of people in this way as an example to anyone else who might become a threat to Rome’s power.

His friends—his women friends, because this is the way of women—come to anoint his body before it is finally placed in the earth for eternity. This is the last gift they can give to their friend, to care for his body. “How are we ever going to push that enormous stone aside to reach his body?” they ask each other.

But when they get there, they find the stone already pushed aside. They rush inside, wondering what happened. Instead of the dead body of Jesus, they see a young man dressed all in white.

Frightened out of their wits, they were. And who can blame them?

“Ssshhh … don’t be afraid,” the young man says calmingly. You’re looking for Jesus. He’s not here. He has been raised. Death can’t hold him. Go … go tell the others. Tell his followers, tell Peter, tell Yme, tell Sharon and Mike and Joyce and Norm and Margaret, tell David and Suzanne and George and Ellen and Joel and Andrea and Clay and Caroline, tell Ed and Bill and Jim and Deb and Gwen. He is going ahead of you. Follow him and you’ll see him. Go. Tell them all.”

But the women, astonished and bewildered and terrified, rush out of the tomb much faster than they had run into it, and said precisely nothing to anyone. I suspect they were traumatized and thoroughly horrified by the empty tomb, the young white robed man, the missing body of Jesus, the claim that their Jesus was somehow alive and moving on.

They were struck mute. Mark ends his gospel here—with silence and terror.

So here’s the point, I think. If the women don’t tell … then someone had better start speaking. Someone had better start telling the story. Someone had better let the world know that Jesus is going ahead of us. Someone should say something. The goal of human life, after all, is resurrection.

That someone is me … and you … and you … and you.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

This story must become the world’s story, a tale of life and hope and wonder, a narrative of transformation, a love story, a hope story, a story that throbs with the passion of God for the world.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Jesus is alive and well … and living in Cranbrook. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

The God of life moves in our veins and muscles. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

The news of life becomes a beacon of joy for us. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

The last word of God now and forever is a word of life. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

The story tells us that Jesus is waiting for us, beckoning to us to follow. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Mark’s way of telling the story invites us to take up this story and make it our own … to go into the world with joy, confidence and hope that God’s love is alive and active in our lives and world. Alleluia! (Alleluia!)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Thanks be to God.

 

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

April 1, 2018 (Easter Sunday)

Mark 16: 1–8

Isaiah 25: 6–9

1 Corinthians 15: 1–11

“O God, enlarge within us the sense of fellowship with all living things, with our brothers and sisters the animals and all creatures to whom you gave the earth as their home in common with us. We remember with shame that in the past we have exercised the high dominion of humans with ruthless cruelty; so that the voice of the earth, which should have gone up to you in song, has been a groan of travail. May we realize that all creatures live not for us alone but for themselves and for you, and that they love the sweetness of life.”

That prayer sounds like it could have been written yesterday. It was actually written 1650 years ago by St. Basil the Great, who lived from 330–379.

It seems we’ve been dealing with the problem of creation care for millennia. It seems to me that the heart of our difficulty is that we try to control something that is not ours to control. We try to lord it over other creatures and other people. We begin to think that this world is ours to do with as we please. We seem to think that everything here … is here for our benefit.

But it’s not. And it’s finally caught up with us as we experience the effects of climate change and the degradation of this fragile earth, our island home. We thought we could treat the earth and water and air and all the creatures as something we could buy and sell and use for our own purposes. And now we’re seeing the terrible cost of treating creation as a commodity.

Psalm 27 reminds us quite clearly that “the earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those who live in it.” That’s the heart of what the beginning of Genesis is all about. This world does not belong to us. It was given to us as a gift. It was given to us in trust by a life–giving Creator, who calls us to treat the gift gently, gracefully, and responsibly.

Care for creation was one of the big themes in the World Day of Prayer service this year. Written by the people of Suriname, it reflects the risk faced by a small country which borders the rising oceans. It’s located on the north east coast of South America, and most of the population of about 550,000 people live on the coast. Year by year, they watch as their country loses land as water levels rise. A century from now, most of the coastline will no longer be livable and 85% of the people of Suriname will lose their homes. Climate change is a matter of life and death for them.

Winston Halapua, the Anglican Archbishop of Polynesia, echoes the same plea. He remembers going fishing with his father in Fiji. Last year, when he returned to visit the island, he saw the palm trees dying from the salination caused by rising seas.

In a sermon, Archbishop Halapua says, “Humanity’s greed and merciless abuse of the planet earth, our only common home, is causing immense damage. Climate change means that sea levels are rising; there are unpredictable storms and uncontrollable floods. For some of us from the Pacific Island States, the truth is as plain as writing on a wall, our land and livelihood are drowning while others refuse to see.

“How can we say to our grandchildren, the home you were to inherit and were told about is destroyed? Where is justice for them and for others?”

At the same time, residents of Capetown, South Africa, are facing the drying up of their water. Day Zero was approaching—the day when the water system would run dry. Day Zero was originally set to occur in late April. Residents began to use water more carefully; now Day Zero has been pushed back to July 9.

Our poor, fragile island home is in crisis—because of us. Life is being threatened. Reputable scientists tell us that the world is in danger because of climate change. The planet is warming; polar ice is melting; ocean temperatures are rising; plants and animals are being forced to move from their traditional habitats because they can’t live there anymore. Ocean levels are rising. Water tables are declining. That’s what the scientists are saying.

Our sixth baptismal promise is this:

Will you strive to safeguard the integrity of God’s creation, and respect, sustain and renew the life of the Earth?

Creation is not a commodity for us to buy and sell and use for our own purposes. The earth, the waters, the air, the creatures—they are all God’s good gift to us. Basil the Great recognized that we need to learn over and over again that we are bound in a common web of life with all of creation.

We have damaged God’s gift to us. One of the prayers of the World Day of Prayer service put it this way: “We forget that we are only borrowing the Earth. God, guide us to handle your creation with responsibility, gentleness and care.”

In our baptismal covenant, we recognize that God has entrusted creation to our care. We promise to care for the earth. We do that today against the backdrop of Holy Week. Today we mark the beginning of the last week of Jesus’ life on earth. Over the next seven days, Jesus journeys inexorably to the cross.

The week begins as Jesus enters Jerusalem on a colt; a crowd of followers waves palm branches and shouts “Hosanna!”

A couple of days later, an unnamed woman anoints Jesus, as if for burial.

Jesus has a final supper with his friends.

Jesus prays in Gethsemane for deliverance from what is about to happen, while Peter, James and John fall asleep.

Jesus is betrayed by Judas and arrested by a mob of soldiers.

Jesus is interrogated and mocked by the council of Jewish elders.

Jesus is denied by Peter—“I don’t know him at all.”

Jesus is handed over to the Romans, and Pilate the governor condemns him to death by crucifixion.

Jesus is beaten, flogged with a cat of nine tails, the thongs biting cruelly into his flesh.

Jesus is stripped and nailed to the cross.

Jesus cries out that even God has abandoned him.

Jesus dies.

The week was a nightmare. It was hell on earth. It was the week in which the God of the universe died in the most horrific way imaginable.

For many people, it’s just another example of how the world is essentially hopeless. 150 years ago, Nietszche declared that “God is dead”. Many people agree; they claim that hope is nothing more than wishful thinking. They see no evidence that God cares. God is dead.

But not for us. We dare to make the astounding claim that God’s love persists. We dare to trust that God is with us, and that God’s passionate commitment to the world continues. We are people of faith; our trust in God may waver, but it continues to live in hope.

So while the cross may be nothing more than a brutal anguish for some, for us it is good news. For people of faith, the cross is a symbol of life. This week, awful as it was, is not the end. It’s the beginning of a movement which has captivated millions of people. The Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church calls it “the Jesus movement”. It has captivated us, and we walk faithfully in the way of the cross with Jesus.

 

This movement is not characterized by seeking greatness. It’s not about seeking power. It’s not about putting ourselves first. It’s not about trying to be popular or rich or famous.

This Jesus movement is characterized by humble service, and by giving ourselves in love for the sake of the world. That’s it in a nutshell.

In Holy Week, we immerse ourselves in this story, this drama. I invite you to join … and then at the end of the week, in the first service of Easter on Saturday night, we will renew our baptismal covenant. We will commit ourselves anew to be God’s people, to walk in the way of the cross, to give ourselves away in joyful service.

I invite you to join us for that service.

The point of it all is that Jesus doesn’t want people who love him. Jesus wants people who follow. Jesus wants disciples, people who are ready to do what he did.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

March 25, 2018 (Palm Sunday)

Isaiah 50: 4–9a

Philippians 2: 5–11

Mark 11: 1–11

Last week, I said that Christian faith is not so much about becoming a better person, or believing something, or even doing something. Christian faith has to do with learning to see differently. God transforms our lives, God transforms our hearts, God transforms our eyes so that we learn to see the world with the heart of God.

I told a story about Dorothy Day reaching out to a woman in the psych ward, a woman wracked by her internal pain, a woman whom others saw as a threat. Dorothy Day saw her as an infinitely precious child of God.

Today, I want to tell you about Oscar Romero.

Latin America was a dangerous place during the 70’s and 80’s. There was an enormous gap between rich and poor. Guerilla movements sprang up to challenge the corrupt governments of the day. It was a time of revolution, with Sandinistas and Contras grabbing the news headlines.

The sad reality was that the hierarchy of the church was clearly on the side of the rich and powerful. Bishops and cardinals curried the favour of those in power. The poor felt abandoned by the church, as if they were of no account.

But there were some priests who spoke out against their church. They stood side by side with the poor. Those in power, in the church and in the government, saw them as a threat, and many were brutally murdered. It was a dangerous time.

On February 23, 1977, Oscar Romero was appointed the Roman Catholic Archbishop of El Salvador. He was a compromise candidate. As a pious, bookish priest, with no history of political engagement, no one expected him to pose a danger to the powerful ruling elites of El Salvador. Neither would he threaten the cozy relationship between the Church and the government. He was the safe candidate.

Three weeks later, Romero’s friend Rutilio Grande, a progressive priest, was assassinated because of his work with the poor. Rutilio’s death had a profound effect on Romero. He began to speak out tirelessly and courageously against the brutal government. “When I looked at Rutilio lying there dead I thought, ‘If they have killed him for doing what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.’”

Romero became known as the bishop of the poor, and the poor flocked to him. He rallied the campesinos and gave them hope. His weekly homilies were broadcast through the country, and Romero assured the people not that the atrocities would cease, but that the church of the poor, themselves, would live on.

Romero was a surprise in history. No one expected him to change so radically. His voice became a powerful cry for justice and peace. “I have been learning a beautiful and harsh truth, that the Christian faith does not separate us from the world, but immerses us in it. The church is not a fortress set apart from the city; the church follows Jesus who loved, worked, struggled and died in the midst of the city.”

Brother Oscar became a threat. He was vilified in the press, attacked and denounced to Rome by Catholics of the wealthy classes, harassed by the security forces and publicly opposed by several fellow bishops. Death threats began to multiply against him

In 1980, at the end of a retreat day for priests, Romero was celebrating the mass. He lifted up the chalice. He spoke the words, “This is my blood.” A shot rang out, and Romero fell behind the altar, dead before he hit the floor. Saturday marks the 38th anniversary of Brother Oscar’s assassination on March 24.

Just recently, Pope Francis has fast–tracked the process for Oscar to be named a saint.

The fifth baptismal question is this:

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

This question flows naturally from our fourth question, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbour as ourselves. When we learn to see Christ in all persons, it becomes a much more natural thing to respect the dignity of all persons, and to work for justice and peace.

What this question prompts us to do is to get immersed in the world. Brother Oscar learned to see in a whole new way. His eyes were opened. He began to see the horrors perpetrated by the rich upon the poor. He began to see the brutal oppression of the powerful over the powerless. He began to see …

… his vision was transformed … and his life was changed. He could no longer retreat, but had to become immersed in the suffering of the poor which he saw all around him.

He began to understand in a new way that the call of the gospel was to strive for justice … to work for peace … to respect the dignity of every human being.

Why?

Because we are all made in the image of God.

Because we are all God’s infinitely precious people.

Because each one of us is claimed and loved and embraced by God.

This is what Jeremiah points to: God is making a new covenant with us, a covenant written on our hearts. God’s love for us and for the world is internalized. We are transformed from the inside out. And then God’s grace flows through us. God’s compassion fills us, and God’s justice rings out, and God’s peace comes alive in us.

We won’t just know about God. We will know God.

This is who we are.

We are God’s people, marked by God with the sign of the cross in our baptism.

We are the church for the sake of the world.

Therefore, we reach out in love; we strive for justice and peace; we respect the dignity of every human being. Every person.

For brother Oscar, to be faithful to God literally cost him his life. He was the grain of wheat that fell into the earth and died in order to bear fruit. And his martyrdom bore great fruit.

It likely won’t cost us our life. I’m actually pretty happy about that.

But it is going to cost us something.

We give up some of our wealth so that others might share more equitably in the blessings of the universe.

We give up some of our energy so that God’s good news might be made real in the world through us.

We give up some of our time for the sake of gathering with God’s people to be encouraged, renewed and inspired so that we may go into the world to tell the story of Jesus and weave ourselves into the pages of that story.

We give up our insistence on our own rights so that we may serve others who need to be loved.

We give ourselves.

And then, like a grain of wheat, we understand anew that death is not the end. For a grain of wheat, death is the beginning. For Jesus, for the church, Good Friday was not the end. It was the beginning.

And we respond, “I will, with God’s help.”

It’s not an easy answer. Not by a long shot. In fact, this response blows all easy answers right out the water.

We claim that this is the way we want to live. This is the disposition of my heart. I long to be one of God’s people. I will live so that God’s gospel priorities become the guiding star of my life.

And as we do so, we become that grain of wheat which is sown and bears much fruit. It is the beginning of new life.

So let me ask you:

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

I will, with God’s help.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

March 18, 2018 (5th Sunday in Lent)

Jeremiah 31: 31–34

John 12: 20–33

Hebrews 5: 5–10