Sermons

Pentecost 8, 3 August 2025

'Our lives do not belong to us,' it is often said, especially in pious circles, and people find that very hard to accept, especially in an individualistic society like ours.

Perhaps we could nuance, soften this a bit.

Did Christ not say to his disciples, "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Mk. 12:31)?

So, maybe, a better statement would be: ‘our lives do not belong to us alone’.

Our life is given and led by God, a life led for the good of others and for ourselves. That balance is important and allowed.

This is not meant to be fatalistic, but trusting and reassuring, beloved and kept safe, in connection, even intimate.

Life, simply because God is interested in us and appreciates us to the fullest, even when we do not, or at least not enough.

In other words, we are all set free and justified, have received salvation, free of charge, by grace through faith because of Christ alone, so that we can use our time and energy and wealth to serve our neighbor.

We have said it before, God arranges the hereafter so that we can focus on the here and now.

Here we arrive at the crux, the pivotal moment, between 'theory' and 'practice', which is a recurrent theme for the readings in this half of the Church year: how is this life, given so lavishly, transformed into a life of service and ministry that is fruitful rather than rich, and produces fruits rather than wealth?

Does this mean that having wealth is bad?

Perhaps that depends on the type of wealth we are talking about. Jesus did have a few radical things to say about wealth and money.

Do you remember the camel and the eye of the needle (eg, Mt. 19:24): he is talking about the sheer impossibility of a rich person attaining eternity. Or Jesus meeting the rich young man (eg, Mt. 19:16-30), who does not seem to have been able to come into contact, in relationship, with the other, in this case the poor; he preferred to retreat to his safe luxury cocoon. Or when Jesus mentions rust and moths that consume, or thieves coming in the night and stealing.

Service and ministry sometimes involve risks, not necessarily physical risks, but the demand for a willingness to undergo a change of mentality, a change of heart, a redirection, what we might call a conversion.

This turns us literally to face the divine, the other, even ourselves are times: sometimes we ourselves are the ones who need ministering to.

So is it a bad thing to be rich? Well, it is certainly a risk, at least when we are talking about material possessions.

There is nothing wrong with working hard, saving up, and enjoying what you have earned; Christ himself also enjoyed life very much and very often.

But consider the rich man in our Gospel reading this morning. When we read the text carefully, a few noticeable things stand out:

1/ The man, who is described as rich already at the start of the narrative, had accumulated all that wealth - and let us face it, he probably had not physically worked for it himself, but his slaves and servants had - but still he wanted, coveted, more and more, bigger barns, more treasures to store up on earth.

Greed is one of the traditional seven deadly sins, and so are gluttony, lust, and pride.

2/ The man had accumulated and saved up all that wealth, but nowhere in the text does he seem to intend to enjoy any of it, or share the wealth, neither with relatives, let alone with the stranger, the neighbor, the poor.

His priority was only his own warped desire to pile up material things, perishable things, a life turned in on itself, separated from one's neighbor, from God’s other children.

The rich man had all that abundance, and it seems that it did not even occur to him to share this rich life, as if he heard no calling but his own.

This is why that so-called prosperity gospel is so nefarious, so insidious, so heretical, because it advertises faith as an economic tool, a marketing strategy, and ultimately it blames people for their own poverty, their own disabilities, their own illness.

Unfortunately, we all too often fail to share our physical wealth.

Unfortunately, we often also too often fail to share our spiritual and religious wealth.

People have the built-in instinct to jealously guard everything they own, including spirituality. Humans have a built-in instinct to think that sharing means losing out: grace and blessing as a pie.

Just like money and time and energy, many find it very difficult to share God, and notably God’s love, with others, especially the stranger. And we are not talking here about standing on a soapbox screaming at passersby that the end is nigh.

As Christians, as people of faith, we are called to know better, to do better, to think differently.

Life itself as a calling, existence as a calling, being human as a calling.

Each of us is called, to life, to existence, to be human, and to be human together with others.

And God seems to take this very seriously, since God grants people eternal life.

Who then is that neighbor, that poor person, that stranger? Saint Paul wrote,

In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!

This means that every human being - and more broadly speaking, all of creation, every living being - is part of our ministry, of our sharing of the fruits.

Just as we ourselves can be served by them.

And we will do incredible good things with that, and make a lot of mistakes too. Yet our calling, our vocation, remains: our lives do not belong to us alone.

Teresa of Avila, a Spanish mystic, saint and one of the few women Doctors of the Church, wrote,

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Pentecost 7, 27 July 2025 

To start, we listen to the Lord’s Prayer sung in Syriac Aramaic, a dialect very similar to
what Jesus would have spoken in day to day conversation.

Our Father...
It’s called the Prayer of All Christians, and we find two versions of it in the New Testament,
in Matthew 6 and in Luke 11.
Traditionally, it has been prayed three times a day, and you’ll be hard pressed to find an
example of a worship service, sacramental or not, in which this prayer isn’t included.
Hundreds if not thousands of sermons have been preached on it, commentaries written,
books published.
There are numerous musical settings of it, and in Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives, this
prayer even has its own Carmelite church and convent.
The Irish comedian Dara Ó Briain has pointed out that
“The Lord’s Prayer was a prayer written by Christ himself, whose major themes are
bread and trespassing. - You’re all running it through your head here, aren’t you.”
That’s exactly what Ó Briain told his audience.

From the onset, from the invocation, this prayer is bold yet humble, an intimate grace; it
has a grand smallness to it, or a compact grandeur, if you will.
Because who would dare to address the Creator of the universe so directly, without a litany
of words or accompanying sacrifices as was customary in the ancient world?
“Do not” Jesus told us “keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard
because of their many words.” (Mt. 6:7)
We’re invited and encouraged, in simple sentences, to invoke the Divine, and call the
Creator of the world, the Origin of existence, the great I AM,
‘Father,
Mother,
Parent,
Carer
and Caregiver.’
When his disciples asked him “Lord, teach us how to pray.”, Jesus offered them this little
gem, this veritable prayer treasure trove, which incorporates great theological statements,
and yet is simultaneously a very concise and practical set of petitions aimed at everyday
life.

One of the great Christian truths found in the Lord’s Prayer in the most unexpected way is
the Trinity.
This is very important, because when we speak of God as Trinity, we not only speak of
who God is: communion, be-ing, love; but also of what God does: creating, interacting,
loving.

The Father we find hiding in plain sight.
Saint Augustine, Teacher of the Church whom we have encountered before, interpreted ‘in
heaven’ as here with us, “in sanctis et iustis, in the holy and righteous”: God dwells in his
temple and the saints are his temple, so ‘in heaven’ means ‘in the saints.’ (On the Sermon
on the Mount, ii, 5, 17-18)
-‘saints’ isn’t a moral classification, btw.
The Creator of the universe hiding in plain sight, closer to us than we could ever imagine.
Closer to us than our next breath.
The Lord’s Prayer refusing to separate the divine from humanity, heaven from earth.
Proximity is one of the things our God does best.

The Son we find in the Name, holy, creative, not to be taken in vain or misused. (Ex. 20:7)
“Therefore God... gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,.. Jesus Christ is
Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philip. 2:9-11)
“Father, glorify your name...” Jesus prayed “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” (Jn.
12:28)

The Spirit we find in ‘the kingdom’ but also in ‘the reign, the dominion’, because the
original NT Greek basileía has that double meaning.
We’re subjects of the kingdom, we’re part of the governing of our God, we’re co-workers
with God in creation.
It’s not just about the afterlife, but about building the kingdom of God in our time and for
our world, because if life is eternal then that includes the here and now.
To fulfill God’s will on earth requires patience, we can’t skip ahead, there’s still too much
work to be done.

The Trinity is the very blueprint of the Lord’s Prayer: it’s God, us and the neighbor, and it
suggests we connect God and the neighbor.

The Lord’s Prayer is a blueprint for life: for living and communing and worshipping and
creating.

As we progress through our prayer, we learn about Law and Gospel, about receiving in
order to give, about being freed in order to set free.
This is why we pray for the needs all: our bread not my bread.
This is why we ask for forgiveness so we can better forgive: our trespasses and them that
trespass.
This is why we want all to feel safe and valued and lifted up: lead us not, deliver us.
God, us and the neighbor.
Community, fellowship, Church.

In the catechism of the Lutheran tradition, our full communion siblings in Europe and North
America, more than half of the petitions of the Lord’s Prayer are accompanied by the
question ‘What does this mean?’, or in German ‘Wie geschieht das?, How does this
happen?’
It’s not about blind faith but about open hearts and open minds.
It’s a continuing dialogue, an ongoing exchange.
What’s more, it’s not necessarily the one teaching the catechism who’s asking the
questions, there is room for questioning and investigating.

Back to Dara Ó Briain.
The comedian informs us that,
“Somewhere, when we handed over all the documents to you, around the time of
Martin Luther, you took this one and thought, ‘All very well, but -bleep-, we’ll stick a
gazebo at the back of it, right, we might knock through here and make it a bit longer
and a bit more exciting, increase the resale value years down the line.’ And it’s
longer in the Protestant faith.”
He’s referring here to the doxology…‘For ever and ever.’
Like the angels before God’s throne, who’re constantly praising, exalting, so we too are
called to constantly pray.

Prayer, notably the Lord’s Prayer, is one of the hallmarks of the Church, a wedding gift
from the Groom to his Bride, a kind of wedding band, a ring of fidelity.

Communion, be-ing, love.
Creating, interacting, loving.
Trinity.
The Lord’s Prayer is our blueprint, our inheritance, a shared inheritance for the whole
Church. The Prayer of All Christians.
It’s our shared gospel book, our liturgy and theology book.
It’s our guide, our intercession, our vocation.
It connects us to the Trinity in the most basic human wording, and at the same time
through the most wonderful and eternal truths.
‘Our Father…’

Pentecost 6, July 20 2025.

[Gen. 18:1-10a; Ps. 15; Col. 1:15-28; Lk. 10:38-42]
Peace to all of you who are in Christ. Amen.

How do we serve God?
Abraham ran to meet God and bowed low to the ground;
The psalmist led a seemingly blameless life;
Saint Paul suffered imprisonment;
Mary sat at our Lord’s feet, listening to him.
 
 
How many rules and regulations do you think you can live by?
365, a rule for each day of the year? Ten, two stone tablets? Two commandments, both
equally important? One Golden Rule?
 
Some churches and Christian organizations are ‘better’ at imposing rules on their
members than others.
Some are wonderfully and chaotically rule-less, while others are very well organized,
rigidly organized.
Some have more dogmas about sexuality and morality, others have more tenets on
hierarchy and church structures.
And so on...
 
How do we serve God?
 
 
When hearing/reading our Gospel passage this morning, who of you feels that Jesus is
being unfair to Martha?
 
There she was, making sure the honored guest and his entourage were being looked after,
while her sister seemed to be slacking off.
 
 
In Middle Eastern cultures, guests are considered sacrosanct; if anything happens to them
while under your roof, or if they become ill or go hungry or thirsty or any other mishap
befalls them, it’s considered a shameful failure, a kind of blasphemy.
 
When a guest or guests arrive, from the moment they step over the threshold, they
become the centre of everything. You immediately drop what you’re doing, like Abraham
did, and focus solely on their wellbeing, their happiness, their lives are all that matter.
 
Hospitality was and is considered a religious duty: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to
strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13
(v. 2) explains. 

So, when the Incarnate Deity came to her house, and sat down at her table, you would
expect Jesus to be more appreciative of Martha fulfilling this holy task, this holy hospitality
the best she could.
After all, she was literally serving God, waiting on God. 
And while she was busying herself organizing the whole of her household around this
famous guest and his friends, distracted by her work, her sister was mingling with them,
listening to what they were saying, perhaps even interrupting and giving her own opinion
on topics being discussed.
 
What she should’ve been doing, however, was leaving the men to their deliberations and
help her sister pamper this prominent rabbi and his students.
 
But Mary chose not to stay behind the scenes like Martha did.
 
 
It’s not the last time we’ll encounter sibling rivalry in Luke’s gospel; in chapter 15 we read
the parable of the Prodigal Son, his father and his older brother. The latter refuses to enter
the house, refuses to join his father and brother because he too feels that all his hard work
isn’t being appreciated.
 
His father then tries to convince him by pointing out that the two of them are always
together, they can see each other and talk with each other every time they want to. His
younger brother however had been missing, gone, and now he was back with them, back
in their presence.
 
 
Martha’s often admired and commended for her service and her practicality, but even so,
Jesus tells her that her sister “has chosen the better path.”
 
We might want to find a compromise between the sisters, to reconcile the opposing sides,
or look for some symbolic meaning in the text; we don’t want Jesus to be telling Martha off.
 
But his reply to her is pretty straightforward, tough he doesn’t directly critique her: her
sister has judged the situation correctly, she however hasn’t.
Martha, at least in this instance, has gotten the wrong end of the stick, just as we so often
get the wrong end of the stick.
 
How do we serve God?
  
Jesus was perhaps being stern with Martha, because he expected more from her; after all
- if we take the passage from John to have preceded this one - at the raising of Lazarus,
Martha had come out to meet Jesus while Mary had stayed at home, and it had been
Martha who had shown great insight as she professed “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are
the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” (Jn. 11:27b)
  
Martha could’ve just enjoyed the present circumstances, that Jesus was there, and sat
down and listened to him, taking time off all the duties she as a woman was supposed to
carry out, a break from society’s dictates.

She could’ve ignored religious and cultural precepts and socialized with Jesus, her sister
and the other guests, and simply enjoyed their company, just like they would’ve enjoyed
hers.
God doesn’t demand rules and regulations from us, no good works, to be allowed to come
into God’s presence and sit at God’s feet.
 
Too often, we overcomplicate matters, like Martha did, we become overzealous, neurotic
even.
Too often, we think we have to earn God’s approval before we can approach the divine.
 
If God wouldn’t want us to approach him, to come into his presence, God would never
have bothered being born: Deus Incarnatus, God in the flesh dwelled among us, sat with
us at table, talked to us, debated with us, touched us, laughed and cried with us.
 
 
James Alison, an English Roman Catholic theologian, has talked about faith as relaxing, in
the sense that you relax in the presence of someone you’re certain is fond of you.
Presence means being together, there’s no distance, it means koinonia or fellowship: a
fellowship of being physically close to each other, to God, and also mentally, spiritually.
 
As if God is saying: ‘Relax, please just enjoy my being here, lets enjoy each other’s
closeness. My closeness, my communion (communio) is unconditional.’
 
Martha, it seems, needed a reminder of her faith, of the fondness Jesus had for her, she
had to be reminded of the affirmation she had previously made in the presence of the
divine.
 
So, does this mean that there are no laws to approach God, to serve God?
 
At least not those imposed by society, politics, religion, gender inequality, sibling rivalry,
etc.
 
How do we serve God?
 
How many rules and regulations do you think you can live by?
The Church very often gives the impression as if rules are the only thing that matter: tick
the right boxes and you’ll get to see God.
The pressure, we know, is on, and it certainly seems as if it’ll never be enough, it’ll never
suffice.
 
But for God it will, every time: ‘Come sit by me and listen to what I have to say.

I’m very glad you're here.

Pentecost 5, July 13 2025

[Lk. 10:25-37]
Peace to all of you who are in Christ. Amen.

For context, we add a reading from 2 Chronicles to our lectionary today,
So the warriors left the captives and the booty before the officials and all the
assembly. 15 Then those who were mentioned by name got up and took the
captives, and with the booty they clothed all that were naked among them; they
clothed them, gave them sandals, provided them with food and drink, and anointed
them; and carrying all the feeble among them on donkeys, they brought them to
their kindred at Jericho, the city of palm trees. Then they returned to Samaria. (ii
Chron. 28:14-15)
 
It’s very likely that Jesus’ audience was familiar with this passage: long ago, when Israel
and Judah were bitterly divided in a war between North and South, the soldiers from the
North showed kindness to their captives and escorted them back to Jericho. These
soldiers from the North were the ancestors of the Samaritans.
So, when Jesus tells his parable he incorporates this historical reference.
To some of his listeners that must’ve really stung.
 
 
Saint Augustine, a Teacher of the Church, and other clever people like him, have written
about the figure of the Samaritan in this parable as representing Christ, caring for a lost
soul.
While this is a valid interpretation, Jesus might very well not have been thinking of himself
when telling this story, maybe he wasn’t even thinking about God the Father.
 
Jesus wanted his audience to think about their own reactions in a real life situation like the
one we’ve read this morning.
We know that the relationship between Samaritans and Jews was one of mistrust, it was
strained, violent even. It wasn’t an allegory, it wasn’t symbolic, it was very real.
 
That’s what Jesus wanted people to realize: there are many ways to be in relationship with
each other, which way will you choose when confronted with a situation whereby a
member of the other camp, the other tribe is suffering immensely? Especially, when history
shows you that the other camp, the other tribe has been very kind to your group in the
past.
That does bring it close to home, doesn’t it? That stings, doesn’t it?
 
 
Jesus is asking to show kindness, compassion, interest.
 
The problem with the priest’s and Levite’s reaction isn’t necessarily that they did nothing
- although that’s certainly an issue - but that they deliberately went out of their way so they
didn’t have to do anything.

 
They didn’t ignore the situation, they physically separated themselves from it and from the
human being in need.
They crossed the road and ignored what was happening.

The Australian poet Henry Lawson wrote:
(And so ‘by chance there came that way,’
It reads not like romance-
The truest friends on earth to-day,
They mostly come by chance.)
He saw a stranger left by thieves
Sore hurt and like to die-
He also saw (my heart believes)
The others pass him by.
 
Lawson - who struggled with his own demons throughout his life - imagined that the Good
Samaritan, from a distance, had in fact noticed the priest and the Levite crossing the road.
Perhaps that made him slow down and pay more attention; his curiosity got the better of
him (and thank heavens it did). The evasive act of the two other men was an incentive to
take a closer look and find out what was going on. Lawson tells us that,
 
He was no Christian, understand,
For Christ had not been born-
He journeyed later through the land
To hold the priests to scorn;
And tell the world of ‘certain men’
Like that Samaritan,
And preach the simple creed again-
Man’s duty! Man to man!
 
 
That priest and that Levite were part of the elite of their people and they were fortunate
enough to want for nothing. They led respectable, rich lives, what we might call grace-filled
and blessed lives.
Very likely they thanked God every day for their status in society, devoutly, prayerfully.
 
Many if not most of us are probably like them, average Christians, churchly folk, with some
money in the bank, a house, a job, loved ones, and so on.
Many if not most of us would probably agree that we lead grace-filled, blessed lives.
 
So, how about sharing the grace, sharing the blessings?
 
 
But, those people in our streets, begging, sleeping rough, they don’t look well, they smell,
often they’re on drugs or drunk or both.
And those strangers, coming here, fleeing for their lives, there are so many of them. We
feel overwhelmed, we feel uncomfortable.

Or people seeking for help, crying out for help, against abuse, with mental health issues,
caught in modern slavery, in severe debt, persecuted, ignored.
It’s all so scary, all so overwhelming, all so uncomfortable.
We want to close our eyes and cover our ears.
The Good Samaritan brought the wounded man to a place where he was safe, where he
could be taken care of. He even made a donation to contribute in the man’s needs.
Lawson’s poem continues,
He must have known them at the inn,
They must have known him too-
Perhaps on that same track he’d seen
Some other sick mate through;
For ‘Whatsoe’er thou spendest more’
(The parable is plain)
‘I will repay,’ he told the host,
‘When I return again.’
 
We’re not expected to look after every single beggar, or to give money to all who ask for it.
We’re not expected to take in every asylum seeker into our own homes.
We’re not expected to solve all these problem by ourselves.
There are organizations staffed with professionals and volunteers who are involved in
street work, the welcoming of refugees, shelters, soup kitchens, etc.
You can donate, pray for them, volunteer yourself.
It’s a group effort.
 
But don’t ignore the situation. Never ignore your neighbor. Even if we feel overwhelmed,
even if we feel uncomfortable.
Don’t go out of your way to avoid the situation, to deliberately separate yourself from the
issue.
 
Circling back to Saint Augustine who thought that the Good Samaritan represented Christ.
 
What if Christ was actually the man who had been attacked and who lay bleeding and
dying in the ditch?
 
What if you recognized him by his crucifixion wounds or perhaps by a halo?
Would you cross the road then?
 
If we can make the effort to distance ourselves from someone, surely, we can make the
effort to come closer, to see what’s going on, to not do what others are doing, and to do
what they aren’t.
 

 
The priest and the Levite are still crossing the road today. As Lawson points out,
 
‘Once on a time there lived a man,’
But he has lived always,
And that gaunt, good Samaritan
Is with us here to-day
He passes through the city streets
Unnoticed and unknown,
He helps the sinner that he meets-

His sorrows are his on.

Pentecost 4, 6 July 2025

[Gal. 6; Lk. 10]
Genade zij u van God, de Schepper-Redder-Gids. Amen.

Nothing is impossible with God.
There is no situation that is insurmountable to God. No situation is so serious that God cannot
solve it.
The world, sin and death, the opposer, Christ overcame them on the cross and they cannot bind
us, oppress us or enslave us. God has won the victory so that we can live in faith, hope and love.
God is concerned about justification, about salvation, so that we can be concerned about our
service to others.

This is the most important message in the world; no advertising for goods, services or wealth can
compete with it. The Scriptures point us to that message and guarantee that it is true. It is to be
believed and trusted and shared without shame or reservation. This message, the good news of
God, is so important that it must never be forgotten.
And it’s not always easy to believe, to trust, because life throws many things at us, bombards us,
even. Disease, relationships that break down, war, disasters, people that disappoint us, and the
disappointments we cause, and so on. The list is endless.
If Saint Paul seems rather harsh in his epistle to the congregation at Galatia, in Central Anatolia,
Central Turkey, and he is being stern with good reason, it’s because he was upset about people
judging each other, taking things for granted and being dishonest, not just towards others, but
mostly towards themselves.

So, what can we learn, distill, here today, from a piece writing addresses in a particular time to a
particular group, with whom we at first glance have very little in common, in their specific context

There’s a story, though not verified, about Martin Luther, the German reformer, when he was
asked why he preached justification by grace over and over again every Sunday.
“Because every week the congregation has forgotten about it,” he is supposed to have
replied.
A nice little anecdote, if very likely an urban legend. But the gist, its message, is certainly in
keeping with the gospel.

So, it cannot be repeated enough, justification by grace through faith for the sake of Christ alone.
Freedom in Christ to serve the neighbour.

No other system in the world, economic, religious or political and philosophical, can do this for us,
can save us, can heal us, can bring us wholeness. No other work but God’s good work, God’s Good
News.
And God’s work is a healing work, a holistic work. God gives it to everyone and we are called to
offer it to our neighbors as well as to ourselves.
Behold, I make all things new. Behold, you are called to make all things new.

Nothing is impossible with God. And while we ourselves are more limited in our abilities, that’s no
excuse for not trying, and curving in onto ourselves and perhaps those nearest to us, and
deliberately ignoring our neighbors.
We’re all called to make all things new, to see people in a new light, to encourage them to feel
new.
How often do we neglect this task? Out of indifference, out of jealousy, out of spite.
Do we accept this “newness” of others? Or do we prefer to dwell on the old things?
Because their newness is part of their humanity, and their humanity is just as god-given and god-
inspired as our own.
We’re not the only ones who are forgiven and recreated by God, day after day. Others have just as
much right to rely on this divine promise.
And by the fruits you shall know the tree.
In Matthew chapter 25 (vv. 31), in the parable of the sheep and the goats, the question is asked:
When did we see you and help you?
Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine,
you did for me.
And when did we not help you?
Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of these least, you did not do for me.
There’s another saying attributed to Mr Luther:
God doesn’t need our works (good works), but our neighbor does.

Peace! Be still!” Christ commanded on the Sea of Galilee. Then the wind died down and there was
a somewhat eerie calm.
But perhaps we shouldn’t interpret the silence as eerie but as contemplative.
Unlike the disciples who were experiencing all this for the very first time, we have the advantage
of foreknowledge, and should know better how to respond when the storms of life breaks lose.

We’re all called to be the peace and tranquility for others, not to aggravate, ignore or minimize
the storm they’re in. To be present to one another, as Christ is present in Word and Sacrament.
What will be our answer when our Lord asks us: Where were you when the storms of life were
raging, and I thought I was going to drown because it all felt so overwhelming, so dark and
frightening? Oh, ye of little faith! What stops you from reaching out and helping others through
the problems that are overwhelming them? Don’t you care that they are perishing?

Let no one ever tell you otherwise, try to convince you otherwise: you are the new creation, the
calm after the storm, your neighbor’s helper, which God calls you to be.
Saint Paul writes in the first chapter of the same letter to the Galatians:
If anyone, even I or an angel from heaven, preaches to you a gospel contrary to what I
preached to you before, let him be accursed! (Gal. 1:8)
Don’t be afraid of the storms raging and do not be afraid to proclaim the good news to others and
to support them in their own misfortunes and pain and darkness in their own context. Pass on the
resurrection promises, shine the resurrection light in the world.
The best remedy against the storm on the sea that is our world is your faith and trust in the God
who is always present, even if it often does not seem so; it is a grateful and joyful heart where
your fellow creatures find a home, just as the Spirit also dwells there; and it is your active
solidarity with those who seem to find themselves in an impossible situation.

A very good morning to you all on Trinity Sunday, brought to you today by the number three. I have ten minutes to enlighten us all on one of the great mysteries of church doctrine and theology.

I was asking a clergy friend what they were intending to preach about today and they said. Don’t worry - you’ll be fine as long as you don’t preach any heresy. What a terrifying thought! Heresy! But it’s a real concern on Trinity Sunday, because, throughout the history of the church, whenever theologians have reached for analogies to express what the Trinity is, cries of heresy have often followed.

What are we talking about when we use the term ‘the trinity’? Well, we are referring to the three persons of the Godhead.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer if you want it expressed in terms of their activities and in less patriarchal language.

Three distinct yet equal persons - one God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

In our Nicene Creed this is expressed as: we believe in

one God, the Father, the Almighty,

one Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God - of one Being with the Father,

the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of life, who proceeds from the Father (and the Son)

So God is three in one

The Father is God

The Son is God

The Holy Spirit is God

I actually think that a bit of what has been termed heresy might be helpful just to allow us to get our heads around what we are talking about here.

It has been said for instance that the Trinity can be compared to water, the same substance existing in three different states - water can be liquid, ice and steam like the three distinct persons of the Trinity which share the same essence of God.

Good analogy or heresy?

Limited analogy perhaps because water only exists in one state at a time whereas God is all three persons simultaneously.

And it is deemed heretical since it implies that God is a kind of shape shifter which is the heresy of modalism.

It has been said that the Trinity is like the three layers of an egg, shell, yolk, white.

Good analogy or heresy?

Well, it evokes different parts of God, three distinct elements forming one whole, but the parts of the egg rely on one another to function, and the persons of the Trinity are not interdependent in the same way.

This analogy too is deemed heretical since it suggests that God is composed of distinct parts: the heresy of partialism.

As well as those analogies of things there are other analogies/heresies that have been used to try and express what the Trinity is in less tangible terms. The love analogy, lover, beloved, act of love (good old Augustine of Hippo who famously said - God help me to be pure but not yet). He also compared the Trinity to the functions of the mind - being, knowing, willing.

I throw those out there in case they are helpful for any of you.

But then we come to my favourite heresy, as an Irish person -

St Patrick with his shamrock. Three leaves on one stalk - condemned as the heresy of partialism - I like it. It helps me except it doesn’t work if you find a four-leaf clover…

I think that the only thing that we can safely say about the Trinity and how the different persons of the Trinity relate to one another is that it is a mystery. We cannot ever fully understand it in this life because we are not God, we are not members of the Trinity, we are not privy to the thoughts nor to the mind of God, the Three in One. Our imaginations, however vivid, are limited and we can only think in terms of what we see and know and experience in our world. No wonder we reach for everyday things like eggs and water to try and find an understanding. St Patrick at least turned to the natural world and used the shamrock analogy to express the living, breathing, growing essence of God. It wasn’t his fault that his attempt to explain the Trinity would become emblazoned on millions of pub signs throughout the globe.

Another question to ask might be: why the Trinity? Why do we have three persons? Maybe because God knows that we need different things at different times of our life. When I interviewed missionary nuns for my research one of the questions, I asked them was whether they had a favourite member of the Trinity, one they particularly related to. They said that at different times of their lives different members of the Trinity had become particularly important. Growing up, God the Father, the parent, in the missions Jesus the Son, the servant, and, when nothing made sense, the power of the Holy Spirit. I’m sure many of us can relate to that.

The mystery of the Trinity is good for us since it forces us to confront our own limitations in knowledge and imagination. I imagine the three members of the Trinity in constant motion, dancing perhaps which is another analogy that has been used. It would have to be one of those Scottish country dances where people weave in and out, spinning and changing places constantly, grasping hands and throwing back their heads in laughter, out of breath, exhilarated and joyful. When I was an ordinand in a student parish we did dance on Trinity Sunday. And it was a bit wild and clumsy, but it somehow felt liberating to dance in church.

Can we believe and trust what we do not understand and cannot express? That is the question I ask of us all on this Trinity Sunday. The mystery of the Trinity is one of the mysteries of faith and faith, after all, is about believing what we cannot see.

God in three persons dancing and, most importantly, inviting us to join the dance, reaching out a hand to pull us into the perpetual movement of the Trinity, the work of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, as members of the family.

Today, on Trinity Sunday, the invitation is for all of us to join the dance.

Amen

Pentecost

Come Holy Ghost and shake us up! Amen. 

The wind blows…

The funny thing about wind is, that we don’t really know where from and where to it’s blowing, we only know the general direction. Often, You think it goes from A to B, but the. it feels differently, elusive, from all directions.

The Spirit too, she blows, often from and to surprising directions.

That’s the Spirit speaking to us individually as well as in community, as surprisingly as she blows, and as renewing.

The disciples had been through it once before, after the crucifixion, that fear, that disappointment, that feeling of loneliness, dazed, numb, because their world had come crashing down.

Then the resurrection happened, and Jesus was back, their lives once again as they reckoned it was supposed to be.

40 days later it happened all over again. 40 days Jesus had stayed with them, had eaten with them, had told them things, had spoken to them. Then the Ascension happened, and he was gone. Hadn’t he promised never to do that again?

He had abandoned them once again, dazed, numb, alone.

Once again they were there, in that upper room, fearful, doubting, huddled together, hiding.

Then the Spirit came.

 The Spirit, she still blows.

She, because in Hebrew ruakh is feminine, and in Greek pneuma is gender neutered. So, not just “the Lord, the giver of life”, but also, ‘the Lady’, or ‘that which gives life’.

The Spirit descended with some impressive special effects and literally shoved the disciples outside, to meet the crowds that had gathered together, and to speak to them. Not in some weird made-up language that sounds like a mixture of Hebrew and Arabic and random sh- and guttural sounds, but each in their own language, in other words, the disciples spoke in existing and understandable languages.

In the tv series Empire, this scene is cleverly depicted as the disciples, including the virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene, being anointed and being inspired by the Spirit to pray the Lord’s Prayer in a variety of languages, while flames appear over their heads and a strong loud wind, almost a hurricane, engulfs them.

This attracts the crowd outside the upper room.

Those crowds that day were far from homogenous and probably there were non-Jews there also. The Spirit isn’t just multilingual but also multicultural.

These people had come from all over for the Festival of Booths. Most of the Jewish diaspora and the god feathers didn’t speak Hebrew or Aramaic. Some had lived in Jerusalem all their lives, and were perhaps familiar with this odd ball group which had tagged along with this Jesus of Nazareth. Some were deeply moved and impressed, spiritually filled, others made snide remarks about breakfast boozing.

A colorful bunch just, like the Church.

The Church, with capital C, is the Spirit’s own creation, divinely instituted, as a gift to every Christian as well as the wider world. A haven, a vehicle of the Word and Sacraments, as means of God’s grace.

Just like a human body is animated, given life, by the soul, the mind and its conscience, so the Body of Christ is animated and invigorated, energized by the Holy Spirit.

Not only is the Church a creation of the Word, but she is also a Word event: not just a static one off but also a continuous action. The Church was not only called into being, but she is also called to be.

Does the church still speak a language that people understand?

Does the church still speak to people at all?

Does she speak with a creative and creating voice?

Does she speak about the one who is present, is very close by?

Does she speak the truth? Does she speak truth to power, or does she collaborate with injustice?

Does the church still have anything sensible to say?

Did God not speak at creation?

Was everything not created through the Word?

Is the Word not Christ?

Is Christ not God?

Is God not love?

So, the Word is love, and our words, the words of the church must also be love.

Our words must bring hope, not fear.

Our word must speak love, not indifference.

Our words must declare grace, not judgement.

Our words must build up, not tear down.

Our words must create, not leave empty.

How do we speak to people who have come from all corners of the world, each with their own story, each with their own way of life? Refugees, economic migrants, the seekers, the atheists, those of other denominations, those of other religions…

Do we speak with judgement, or invitingly?

Do we still speak in a language that people understand, about a God who’s present, about a God who understands them, a God who gives life?

Is the Church still a voice that’s being heard? Is the Church still a voice worth listening to?

Does she still speak up in word and deed for the lonely, depressed, the addicted, the homeless, all who are being ignored, all who don’t have a voice?

Does she still allow for the Spirit to do her work in us, to set us on fire, to engage ourselves, to invite al into our churches, our homes, our countries? 

One of the most important words in any language is the word ‘welcome’, let’s use it again and again! Let’s be inviting and go out to spiritually and physically embody the love of God, let’s descend like the Spirit over people. To draw them out, to bring them in, to support them, to give them a place, so they can speak for themselves, so that they can express themselves, defend themselves, and so on.

That’s why Pentecost is the feast of communication, of interaction, of engagement, of thinking outside the box, of doing things differently, and step out of our comfort zone.

The Church too must blow like the wind. We too must blow like the wind.

Pentecost is the festival that guarantees that the work of the triune God is still ongoing, that it hasn’t ended, that it’s moving on, and that’s the calling we have as well: don’t give up, enjoy, live, fight for justice and peace, serve, be people, and be Christians.

Or will everything remain dead letter? Uninspired, boring, rusted, huddled together, hiding in our church buildings, wallowing in self-pity?

Veni Creator Spiritus! Come, Creator-God!

Ascension

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

At the Ascension, God shows that Jesus has returned to his rightful place, as Jesus was at the right hand of God when all things were created, and through him all things were created. He intercedes for us. He keeps an eye on us, he keeps watch. And he will come again ‘to judge the living and the dead’ as the Creed says.

As a feast day, Ascension is under-appreciated.

That’s understandable, because how do you celebrate the fact that someone rose from the dead, only to leave again? What is the use of the resurrection, if the result is the same: Jesus is gone.

Okay, we have a Thursday off and a lot of people have a long weekend off. Perhaps there is a service in the church, perhaps not. 

But there are no decorations to hang up, no trees or branches to decorate, no presents, no special dishes. There are no Ascension Day movies we can watch with the whole family.

Compared to Christmas and Easter, Ascension Day is rather dull.

When Jesus died, he left a massive void amongst his disciples and other followers.

Not only had there been the seemingly needless and violent loss of a life, there was confusion and disappointment; after all, had he not come to restore Israel and the Hebrew nation?

The Resurrection proved to only be a short lived reunion and the disciples were devastated by the knowledge that they were seemingly going to lose Jesus again.

But the Ascension needed to happen, just as Jesus explained.

“...I go to prepare a place for you.”

On the eve of his Ascension, Jesus wanted to make sure that the disciples wouldn’t loose heart. He wanted to impress upon them that once again this was not the end, that there was still much to do.

Let’s not let our hearts be troubled, because there is still much to do.

Many Christians long to be with Jesus in the afterlife in such a way that they loose sight of  life here and now. What will happen to them after they die almost becomes an obsession. It’s almost as if they want to skip this earthly bit and immediately move on to the glorious heavenly part.

That’s not how it works, of course: God promises us to take care of us in the next life, that doesn’t mean we should ignore what goes in the here and now.

If there are many rooms in the Father’s house than surely it is our Christian duty to prepare a place among us for the many who feel excluded, ignored, chased away, homeless, persecuted.

If the Church can’t fulfill that simple task, the world is in a sorry state indeed.

Like many times in the Scriptures, Jesus sets an example that we are to imitate.

God’s grace does n’t come at a price, but it does come with a call, with responsibilities.

 “...I go to prepare a place for you, don’t fret, don’t stress out, it will be alright...and in the meantime, I ask you to prepare a place for others as well.”

So, what’s the point of Ascension Day? 

In St John’s Gospel chapter 1 we read,

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

Because God is a God who cares about his creation, we confess that this Word, this Jesus came down from heaven, as we say in the Creed. Jesus, the God–man, lived, preached, taught, and died here on earth to complete the new covenant in his blood, to bring people back in relation with the Father, so that God can be God in our lives, and we can be people who live out our humanity to the fullest.

Then Jesus came back from the dead, ‘ascended, and sits at the right hand of the Father, where he will come again to judge the living and the dead’, we say again in the creed. Jesus went back to the Father to return one day to judge the whole of humanity. We don’t know when this judgement will take place, we shouldn’t speculate, we shouldn’t be frightened. The fact that Jesus will return to earth is a promise, not a threat.

So why couldn’t Jesus just stay with us, if he was going to come back anyway?

Perhaps he could have healed more people, perhaps he could’ve told more parables, perhaps he could have thrown over more tables, upset more religious and political people. Perhaps he would’ve been condemned to death again and executed.

So, what is Jesus doing all day in heaven?

He’s preparing rooms for us,

He’s preparing the way for the Comforter,

He’s interceding for us, he’s being our high priest, a high priesthood we share through baptism.

It’s all part of the ongoing cycle of God’s care for his creation, of God’s interest, of God’s intervening, interfering, like a parent.

God doesn’t let go of the work of his hand.

God is the God who takes the first step every time, comes with solutions, gives grace, gives love, gives hope. Every time again, for us, in our interest.

At the Ascension, the circle is complete, The Word has returned to his rightful place.

We too may take up a rightful place in creation, everyone can be involved, just like God’s always involved.

We too should make place for others,

We too should comfort others, guide them, intercede for them,

We too should be high priests for others, be merciful and loyal and dependable.

Ascension Day deserves a bit more attention, a bit more enthusiasm, and not just because of the day off or the long weekend off.

The events of that day after all are being told in no less than three passages in the new Testament and that’s saying something. 

It’s not just about missing Jesus; it is also about the promise and about the fulfillment.

Ascension doesn’t mean the opposite of Easter, Jesus who rises from the dead, only to leave. On the contrary, Ascension Day underlines, emphasizes the resurrection. It underscores everything the Resurrection stands for, namely that everything and everyone has a rightful place within creation to take up.

Jesus’ earthly journey may be over, but his work and his commitment for Earth and for all who live here has not ended.

Easter Six

« Do not be afraid.”

Jesus has just told the disciples that the Father was going to send the Holy Spirit, and he adds to that promise his peace and the admonition not to be afraid.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.”

Easier said than done.

Fear is a perfectly acceptable human emotion. It’s part of a built-in safety mechanism, it’s part of our human instincts that certain situations, people or other creatures, or a combination automatically set off alarm bells.

“Do not be afraid.”

If someone would tell you about a spirit, a ghost, an invisible specter which was going to come to you, you might actually feel worried, wouldn’t you, a little scared even.

If you ever happen to have a ghost in your house, you might just call for an exorcist, or maybe the ghost busters.

Of course, Jesus is talking about the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity, “the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father” as we’ll be professing in the Creed later on.

So, no need to be afraid of the Holy Spirit, no need to hire the ghost busters.

When Christ ascended bodily and rejoined His Father in Heaven, there was created a space for another, a Representer, non-bodily who would incorporate the divine in a personal and individual yet communal and interconnecting way.

This one-to-one and also group link -this first century Divine WiFi if you will- leads, nourishes, builds up; it offers courage, joy and faith; in the Church it works through Word and Sacrament; and rolls downs like righteousness, healing and forgiveness, an everlasting stream of respect, human rights and religious freedom.

The Spirit was there at creation, in Christ's salvific existence and work, and still roars in the Abba-Father cry of each person; unbound by circumstance, time and space.

Because of this, the Spirit can't be claimed nor pinned down by any particular group for their own means, their own agendas, their own exclusive claims of judgmental superiority.

This means that the Spirit is not a stranger, the Spirit is not a strange entity that appears out of nowhere, without any connection to God.

No, this is the Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of God. 

And not only will the Spirit teach us all things, the Spirit will also remind us of everything Jesus has said to his disciples. In other words, the Spirit will confirm Jesus’ teachings and witness.

Do not be afraid, the Spirit is familiar to you, the Spirit is how God and Jesus make their home with you.

Do not let your hearts be troubled and accept the Spirit in your lives, accept the gifts of the Spirit.

Saint Augustine of Hippo, that famous and clever Teacher of the Church from the 4-5th century, drew a connection between these gifts and the Beatitudes in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount (Mt.5:3-12):

• Blessed are the poor in spirit, corresponds to the fear of the Lord as the "poor in spirit" are the humble and God-fearing;
• Blessed are those who mourn, corresponds to knowledge, because to Augustine the knowledge of God brings an increased awareness of personal sin;
• Blessed are the meek, corresponds to piety;
• Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, corresponds to fortitude;
• Blessed are the merciful, corresponds to counsel;
• Blessed are the pure in heart, corresponds to understanding;
• Blessed are the peacemakers, corresponds to wisdom.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, let the Spirit guide you, work these gifts in you.

don’t worry, don’t fret, it is about the assurance that God’s promises, God’s commitments are ongoing;

don’t feel abandoned, it is about how Jesus is with us until the end of the age, even though his physical story here on earth ended -for the time being- at the Ascension;

don’t feel alone, we can confirm our trust in the fact that as the Trinity is connected, so we too are connected to God and connected to each other;

don’t feel overwhelmed, we can celebrate the Spirit bringing peace, a peace the world cannot give and a peace we offer each other, as we do during the service.

In a sermon, US pastor Lydia Posselt had the following striking things to say:

"I belong to Christ, and you belong to Christ, and together, we get to march in the parade led by the Holy Spirit. This parade leads us out into the world, out to our neighbors, where the fruits of our freedom in Christ are given away to others, not hoarded or stored up for our own benefit." -end quote.

How wonderfully it ties in with our readings today of Jesus' promise of the Spirit. 

And we're all called to march along, limp along, roll along, dance along, support others along, carry the dying and the dead along, and be carried!

We're all called to claim this promise, to cling to it.

The Spirit is the seal that our Lord is truly a resurrected Lord; Jesus lives, so we live, so others live, so we live for them.

The Spirit is the seal that God truly is love; Jesus loves, so we love, are called to love our neighbors as ourselves.

But How to love, how to live when others deny you your place in the parade, target you, threaten your job, your house, your rightful place among family and friends, even your church and your god!?

How not to abandon the parade altogether!?

Thursday is Ascension Day, Sunday next Pentecost; very important feast days, too often neglected. Nonetheless, they should be up there with Christmas and Easter, even if we don't always really know what to do with them, if they're not as physical and as tangible, not as easily pinned down, because their messages are just as important, just as inspiring, vital.

They're festivals that assure us that when the material, that wonderfully and equally created, that bodily is under attack, under threat, discarded, the Spirit will keep rebuilding, will keep creating, indiscriminate, unfettered, alway there, always cheeky, always marching.

And we can and must march with the Spirit; we've got every God-given right to do so, not just for our neighbors but also for ourselves. We cling to the promise.

Easter Five

Acts 11, Rev. 21, Jn. 13)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Everything and everyone on this planet, indeed in the whole universe, is linked up, interconnected, interwoven.

Remember that pandemic we went through, and psychologists coined a new word, skin hunger, to indicate the mental distress many felt because of the lack of human face to face contact and direct touch. Six feet or one and a half meters will always have a certain connotation.

Remember that container ship that got stuck in the Suez Canal, and the whole World’s economy grind to a halt: hundreds of ships were stuck in a nautical traffic jam, hundreds of millions of euros of revenue are lost, orders delayed, port laborers having to wait to process the goods, a nation that lost out on much needed income.

Remember the crucifixion, when Jesus said I will draw all nations to me.

Remember the resurrection, when biological life and life eternal were bridged once and for all.

Remember the ascension and the Pentecost feast, when heaven and earth were directly connected without obstacle.

Everything is interwoven.

Nothing exists on its own.

The moment Creation was started, there was nothing that would ever exist separated from all the rest. Everything exists in a network, a constant current flowing to and fro. All parts are in relationship with each other, they feed each other, they are each other’s lifeblood. An organism is only an organism in relation to another organism. Atoms, organs, nerve systems, everything points to a system which is not supposed to exist by itself. Saint Paul already wrote about it in 1 Corinthians 12,

18 But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. 19 If all were a single member, where would the body be? 20 As it is, there are many members, yet one body.

The late Emily Levine (1944-2019), a writer and actress from The US, at her last performance, told her audiences that they made her life real, a reality. “Reality begins with an interaction.”, she said.

In Genesis chapter 1 God’s interaction with the void and the darkness formed the reality of existence.

Everything is interwoven.

Jesus used a symbol from nature to make that connection: “I am the vine.”

Everything’s connected, is attached to Christ; “3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being what has come into being.” (Jn. 1)

Aren’t we all called to be co-workers with God in God’s vineyard?!

God is sometimes pictured as a potter, but can we not also imagine him as a weaver?

A single tread in a tapestry

Though its color brightly shines,

Can never see its purpose

In the pattern of the grand design.

And the stone that sits at the very top

Of the mountain’s mighty face

Does it think that its more important

Than the stones that form the base?

A lake of gold in the desert sand

Is less than a cool fresh spring

And to one lost sheep, a shepherd boy

Is greater than the richest king

So how do you judge what a man is worth

By what he builds or buys?

You can never see with your eyes on earth

Look at your life through heaven's eyes

(Jethro, The Prince of Egypt, 1998)

We need to tell ourselves and the World that we are all interwoven, connected.

Our interwoveness is constantly moving forward, it does not like stagnation. “See, I am making all things new.” (Rev. 21:5).

Our interwoveness is only content when everyone’s on board, when no one’s left behind. Everything in Creation breaths in tandem, synchronized.

Our interwoveness means that everyone and everything is as they’re supposed to be.

Now, replace the word ‘interwoveness’ with ‘Jesus Christ’.

Jesus Christ is constantly moving forward, he does not like stagnation.

Jesus Christ is only content when everyone’s on board, when no one’s left behind.

Jesus Christ means that everyone and everything is as they’re supposed to be.

Christ is our weaver.

“I am the vine.”

Perhaps we don’t always realise that we’re interwoven but we are, the last decade has made that abundantly clear.

So question is, how interwoven do we feel? How interwoven are we willing to be?

‘I want to be interwoven’ or ‘I am interwoven, you are interwoven, we all are interwoven’ could perhaps be a good message on our social media, or as a button, or on a T-shirt.

After all, Christ did not say, I will be the vine, you will abide in me, my Father will be glorified. No, he said, I am the vine, you abide in me, my Father is glorified, etc. We must remember that we are already interwoven, because as with everything with God, God always takes the first step, usually without us deserving it, asking for it, or even realizing it.

That’s called grace. It’s a grace that throws our arrogance and selfishness and exclusivity on a pile and burns them. The ashes then serve to fertilize the vine and its branches, to grow together as one vine.

3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.

All interwoven like branches on a vine.

Examples like a Pride weekend, a cultural history months, or open days in our neighborhood churches and businesses, and so on, remind us that we’re all connected, from the very local to the internationally, and perhaps even to the interstellar.

We cannot pick and chose the parts of the whole we wish to engage with, because we will be confronted with their existence one way or another. We cannot shut parts of the whole out or banish them from sight, from existence, merely because they don’t suit us, our sensitivies, our belief systems, our politics, and so on. People who complain that ´you didn’t see or talk about those things beforé, or ´ they’re shoving it down our throats’, are most likely only content when society looks exactly like they do and like they want it.

The pandemic petered out and is now a containable disease, like flu. The container ship was pulled free and sailed on. The cycle of interwoveness continues.

Easter Four : Good Shepherd Sunday

[Acts 9:36-43; Ps. 23; Jn. 10:22-30]

Peace to all of you who are in Christ. Amen.

So, this is our scene:

It’s winter in Jerusalem, and it can get cold there, even snow a little in the hillside. It’s the period of the Festival of Dedication or Festival of Lights (khanukah), a Jewish celebration marking triumph over foreign invaders and occupiers centuries earlier.

Jesus is walking in the Portico of Solomon, on the eastern side of the Temple… He is walking in His Father’s house.  

Jesus is calling all us to be his sheep; not that that means we should be a bunch of mindless, submissive creatures, but that we should accept that as far as God is concerned we are all equal and equally important, and he is our Good Shepherd, we don’t shepherd ourselves.

Jesus is calling out to us, not screaming or commanding, but in an intimate, ‘knowing’, manner, calling out for us to believe and follow Him, through a life close to him and close to the Father, close to others, all the way to an eternal life of Resurrection.

Today, the fourth Sunday of the Easter season is often known as Good Shepherd Sunday because of the assigned Gospel reading: “I am the good shepherd.” said Jesus.

In many churches it’s also known as Vocations Sunday, when prayers are offered for new vocations, for new shepherds in the Church of Christ, for people -men and women- we can trust to guide us on a spiritual level, people we can trust to guide us on our journey of faith.

The Greek word for trust is pistis; it also means ‘reliance’.

It’s this word we find in the New Testament and which is usually translated with ‘faith’.

It has become to mean an agreement to a certain set of faith rules or expressions; while this is important too, it’s not exactly what the authors of the Scriptures were trying to say: it’s far more about letting go and letting someone else be in charge, about relying on them to envision only the best for us and truly act with our best interests at heart.

James Allison, a Catholic theologian describes faith as relaxing, in the way that you relax in the presence of someone you’re certain is fond of you.

Someone we want to spend time with and someone who’s fond of us and wants to spend time with us, who wants to make us lay down in green pastures and lead us besides still waters.

Psalm 23 interestingly reads like a kind of creed, like a kind of affirmation of faith.

It’s a poem, a song about trust and care, about spending time with our heavenly Father, with our Creator, our Good Shepherd.

He leads me in right paths...

God is enough, our Good Shepherd is enough.

God is the source of all existence, God ís all existence, our Alpha and Omega from whom all things flow and to whom all things will return.

This is why we can take a deep breath and let go.

We can be still -not to mean that there’s no volume- but we can be still in our souls, in our lives. We can leave behind all that pressures us, all that makes us feel hunted.

Anxiety, depression, pride, self-pity, and so on... we can leave it all behind.

But that’s so difficult, isn’t it, to surrender everything in to God’s hands, to let God take care of everything, because we human beings so love to be in control...yet, if we’re truly honest with ourselves, when are we really ever in control?! When do we really ever trust?!

Martin Luther, the German Reformer in his Commentary on this Psalm wrote:

“If you wish therefore, to be richly supplied in both body and soul, then above all give careful attention to the voice of this Shepherd, listen to His voice, let Him feed, direct, lead, protect and comfort you. That is: hold fast to His Word, hear and learn it gladly, for then you will be well supplied in both body and soul.”

God is greater than our hearts, Saint John writes, we don’t have to be afraid to let go, to take that leap of faith, that leap of pistis.

That’s the message of hope and love Psalm 23 insists on: that darkest valley cannot win, death -be it physical or spiritual death- has lost its sting.

No, life isn’t perfect, life’s hard, but anything which seems closed off to us, any situation which we don’t seem to be able to get out off -even as sealed as a tomb- God will break open to let light and life in, to let new opportunities in, every single day.

He restores my soul...

These are opportunities to make something of our lives, to mean a difference for good in the lives of others.

It’s not always easy, people aren’t always easy to like and often we don’t actually like ourselves very much.

Fortunately, God does like us, else He wouldn’t have commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Psalm 23 is a literary reminder of a God who cares, who is engaged and concerned.

It reiterates time and time again that God is present, keeping a watchful eye on Creation, like a good shepherd.

God is present, also in Communion which we will be celebrating in a few moments time.

God is abundantly present.

...my cup overflows...

We too are called to be the shepherd in the Psalm.

We too are called to lead others by still waters, to bring peace to their lives when they’re totally overwhelmed.

We too are called to be present in the dark hours and dark places of others, to bring resurrection light and to hopefully bring some kind of healing, some kind of anointing to them.

This isn’t just a suggestion, to be nice to people, even the people we prefer to avoid; it’s God who asks this of us and God’s requests always have purpose -they’re not there to annoy us- they always have meaning.

We’re called not to shame other peoples’ pistis in us.

The Church, Christianity as a whole has a bad reputation for lettings people down in their trust and reliance, and it’s time that we really take the task which Psalm 23 sets before all of us genuinely to heart.

We all must be better shepherds! Isn’t that a good reminder on Good Shepherd Sunday.

A difficult task for sure, but we have the best example there could possibly be: Jesus, our Good Shepherd.

...goodness and mercy shall follow me...

The Easter season is a time for regeneration, for restoration, for all things new.

Psalm 23 can be our daily guide in this, our daily prayer also.

When our trust, our pistis doesn’t seem enough, we can find courage and energy in these words; we can be reminded that God does watch over his flock, that God does walk with us.

...and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. 

Amen.