For Everything There Is a Season: Reflections on Time

 

RCL All Saints B

3 November 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         As I have grown older, I am becoming more and more aware of how precious the gift of time is for me.  Perhaps this awareness became more apparent to me after my mother’s death at the end of March this year and after the celebration of my seventy-first birthday at the end of April.  I realized that now, with both my parents dead, I was an orphan, an old self-sufficient orphan, but an orphan nevertheless.

 

         If I live as long as my mother, then I have at least twenty years ahead of me.  But, if I live only as long as my father, then I’m looking at fourteen years.  

 

         Let me say that I’m not trying to be morbid.  I’m simply being realistic about how much more time I may have in my life.  This means that I’m becoming more careful with how I use the time that I have now.  It was with such care that I considered whether I would accept the invitation of the Bishop and of the Wardens to become the priest in charge of Epiphany.  I’m here now because I came to the conclusion that this is a ‘good’ thing and worth giving a year or so of my life.

 

         There are many ways to talk about the saints, about sainthood and about what makes a saint a saint.  In recent days I’ve come to think that how a person lives in the mystery of time is one of the ways we can identify a saint, someone whose way of living points us in towards God.

 

         For example, time can be experienced as a quantity.  Just as I can compare my potential lifespan with that of my parents and grandparents and beyond, so can I limit my experience of time to checking off the days and the weeks on the calendar.  How many days before Christmas?  Fifty-two days from today until Christmas.  How many days before New Years?  Fifty-nine days from today until New Year’s Day.  How many days before Easter?  One hundred and sixty-eight days from today until Easter.  How many days before my tax return is due?  One hundred and seventy-eight days.

 

         Looking at time solely as a quantity is not a very enlivening way of living.  It’s like watching a large-screen timer counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months until something happens.

 

         I think that this way of looking at time generates anxiety and fear.  We can become paralyzed and unable to accomplish what we think we need to do before the due date comes crashing upon us.  It’s the kind of anxiety and fear that makes Christmas, for example, not a happy time for many people.  The pressures to get things done by such and such a date, to make sure that our lengthy to-do lists are cleared off, and to have something to show for all that we’ve tried to do, overwhelm many a good and thoughtful person.

 

         But saints look at the quality of time.  In the New Testament this way of looking at time is called kairos.  It’s understanding that every moment of every day is filled with the possibility that it will be an experience of God’s presence.  It’s understanding that every encounter with another person is a moment when a window into God’s love for us and for creation will open, even if only for a brief moment.

 

         Saints know the difference between busyness and business.  Busyness is a substitute for doing what needs to be done for our good and the good of all.  Business is committing oneself to the good things that need to be done for the well-being of ourselves, our families and friends, and the people among whom we live and work.

 

         For saints, waiting is not wasted time but precious time.  Waiting for the celebration of the birth of Jesus through the weeks of Advent becomes an opportunity to experience the birth of Jesus in every moment of every day.  Waiting for the coming of a new Rector becomes an opportunity to explore how our life together as a community strengthens us for ministry in this place in these times.  Waiting for our hoped-for redevelopment becomes an opportunity for us as a Parish to dream of a future in which we serve our neighbours in new and exciting ways.

 

         When we live into kairos, into an appreciation of the quality of each moment of every day, we leave anxiety and fear behind.  Instead of being bound by our fears, we are freed so that we can become more fully alive.  Did you notice in our reading from the prophet Isaiah how ‘waiting’ and ‘salvation’ are linked to freedom from fear?

 

And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the covering that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever.  Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken.  It will be said on that day, “See, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.  This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” (Isaiah 25.7-9 NRSVue)

 

This is a description of a people who are living in kairos, a people who are living in expectation of lives free from the fear of death, whether that death is physical, spiritual or emotional.

 

         When Jesus arrives at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus, he is confronted with the reality of the death of his friend and the implicit disappointment of Mary that he did not come earlier.  But because Jesus is always alive in kairos, what we might call ‘God’s time’ or ‘kingdom time’, he acts to unbind not only Lazarus from the physical cloths that bind his hands and feet, but to unbind Mary and Martha and all who witness the raising of Lazarus from their bondage to time as a quantity.  They are now free to witness to the unexpected ways God reveals God’s purposes in our times and places.

 

         So, my friends, as we approach the end of this liturgical year and of the calendar year, it is right that we ask ourselves how we inhabit the mystery of time.  We are all encumbered by the many calendars of our lives and by the due dates that populate our lives.  There are days when I sit down at my desk at home or here at Epiphany and feel overwhelmed by the many tasks and expectations there are of me.  I do not doubt that we all have those moments.

 

         But, when I pause long enough to hear the voice of the Spirit of God whispering wisdom into my ears and into my soul, I can begin to experience kairos and I am free to do what truly needs to be done.  I am freed so that I can consider what is important and pressing and what is not.  I am freed so that I can use what days and weeks and months and years that are left to me to serve God’s purposes and to grow as a disciple of Jesus.  That’s what saints do – and I want to be one too – I think that we all want to be saints.

I Want to See: Reflections on Mark 10.46-52

 

RCL Proper 30B

27 October 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

[Jesus and his disciples] came to Jericho.  As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.  When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”  Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.”  And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.”  So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.  Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?”  The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”  Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.”  Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way. [1]

 

            I come from a family whose collective eyesight is not particularly good.  For example, it was only after I graduated from high school that I learned that I have one far-sighted eye and one near-sighted eye.  Had my parents and I known this at an earlier age, it might have been remedied and I would not have grown up never being chosen first for games that involve throwing and catching balls.  For me, the ball would start in one place and then suddenly, as it drew closer, would be somewhere else!  But now my eyes were working together instead of against one another.

 

            My sister drew the winning hand in our family poor eyesight card game.  We grew up in a small city at the foot of a mountain that is 4300 metres (14,110 feet) and visible from more than 100 kilometres north, south and east.  All my friends and I talk about growing up with a mountain in our backyards.  But it was only at the age of seven or eight when my sister received her first pair of glasses that she realized that Pikes Peak was visible from our front porch.

 

Jesus and his followers came into Jericho.  As Jesus was leaving Jericho, together with his disciples and a sizable crowd, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus, Timaeus’ son, was sitting beside the road.  When he heard that Jesus of Nazareth was there, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, show me mercy!”  Many scolded him, telling him to be quiet, but he shouted even louder, “Son of David, show me mercy!” [2]

 

            I have always loved the story of Bartimaeus.  For example, we really don’t know the blind beggar’s own name; we only know that he is called ‘son of Timaeus’ (‘Bar-Timaeus’).  But even the name ‘Timaeus’ can mean two different things.  If ‘Timaeus’ comes from the local Aramaic language of Jesus’ time, then our blind beggar is ‘son of the unclean one’.  If it comes from the widely-spoken Greek of the same time, it means ‘son of the honourable one’. 

 

            It all depends upon how we look at this blind beggar.  Is he a local person that his neighbours think is unclean because of something his father has done?  Or is he an unlucky man from a good family who has been afflicted with some sort of eye disease that has brought him into poverty.  Where is his family in all of this?  One of the worst things that could happen to anyone in Jesus’ time, even in our time, is to have no family to support one. [3]  It’s somewhat the biblical version of having one far-sighted eye and one near-sighted eye!

 

            Then there’s the crowd.  They’ve all come to see the great miracle-working teacher from Galilee.  They are not interested in an annoying blind beggar who insists on getting Jesus’ attention.  ‘Look,’ they seem to say, ‘you’re interrupting the main event, so pipe down and let us enjoy the show.’  Did you noticed, though, how quickly they change their perspective on events when it is clear that Bartimaeus becomes the ‘main event’?  ‘Don’t dilly dally, Bartimaeus,’ they now say, ‘go on to Jesus.  Let’s see what’s going to happen?’  A religious parade has suddenly become a possible healing miracle.

 

            But what always captures my heart, soul and mind is Bartimaeus’ response to Jesus’ call to come forward.  He throws away his cloak.  In the midst of an unfriendly crowd where there are likely a few more beggars like Bartimaeus whose need for warmth is as acute as Bartimaeus, he throws away what may be his only source of shelter and comfort.  He takes what a later Christian theologian will call ‘a leap of faith’.  In my imagination I hear Bartimaeus saying to himself, ‘I have nothing left to lose.  I’ve heard wonderful things about this man and now he is calling me to him.  I will take the risk.  I want to see.’

 

Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”  The blind man said, “Teacher, I want to see.”  Jesus said, “Go, your faith has healed you.”  At once he was able to see, and he began to follow Jesus on the way. [4]

 

            In the Gospels the verb ‘to see’ is a many-faceted jewel.  It can simply mean the ability to see.  But it can also mean the ability to understand God’s purposes in the present moment or the ability to envision God’s future or, as is the case here with Bartimaeus, the choice to have faith in Jesus and to become his disciple.

 

Jesus does more than cure Bartimaeus’ physical blindness.  With his eyes now able to perceive what is going on in the ministry of Jesus, Bartimaeus uses this new insight to choose to follow Jesus ‘on the way’.  Let’s remember that the earliest followers of Jesus called him ‘the Way’ and themselves ‘followers of the Way’.  It’s not by chance that the next chapter of Mark’s gospel tells us of Jesus’ triumph entry into Jerusalem, an event that will trigger his arrest, trial and execution, an event that will signal his resurrection and ascension and our own salvation.

 

            Shortly before I entered theological college, my optometrist prescribed bifocals for my use.  It was no longer a simple matter of balancing the near and the far; I had to add new ways to see the world more clearly.  It took a while for me to get used to them, but they proved to be invaluable for my studies and the health of my eyes.  In more recent years with the growing use of computer technology, I’ve started using ‘progressive’ lenses that enable me to see even more clearly whether near or far or in-tween.  I’m tempted to think that there is a spiritual quality as well as a physical one to the glasses I wear.

 

            My friends, we are living through a time of transition in the life of our Parish and in the life of our Church.  How we look at these times requires us to be both near-sighted, that is, attending to the immediate affairs of our Parish life, and far-sighted, that is, shaping a vision for the future of our witness to the Way of Jesus here in Guildford and beyond.  There may be even need for us to identify some mid-range goals.  While we might wish for a simpler ‘either/or’ answers to our questions and concerns, it is far more likely that we have to face the complicated path of ‘both/and’.

 

·      How do we respect the traditions of previous generations of Anglicans and welcome the needs and concerns of newer Christians who do not have the same history and experiences?

·      How do we respect the needs of our older members and discern how to provide nurture and support for our younger members?

·      How shall we shape worship and music that celebrates our identity as Anglicans and that is open to the use of resources our Church has developed over the last thirty years in collaboration with Anglicans and other Christians throughout the world?

·      How will we decide together what we embrace and what we set aside?

 

These are not easy questions to answer.  Christian community is not now, nor has it ever been an easy way of living in the world.  If we do not talk with one another with love, with humility and with gentleness, then we will find the coming months and years troubling.  More importantly, we will find it difficult to come to a shared and collaborative vision of our future.  This coming Tuesday, for example, the leadership of our Parish will gather to hear the final report of our development consultants.  Then we will need to determine how best to share this information with the whole congregation and how to decide together what the next steps will be.

 

Like Bartimaeus, we want to see.  We want to see because we want to follow Jesus on the way.  May God give us the grace to take this risk.  May God give us the grace to see clearly – near, far and everything in between.

 

 

 

---

[1] Mark 10.46-52 (NRSVue)

 

[2] Mark 10.46-50 (CEB).

 

[3] See https://aprilfiet.com/my-thoughts/fill-my-cup-lord-the-story-of-bartimaeus accessed on 20 October 2024.

 

[4] Mark 10.51-52 (CEB).

 

The Symbolism of Evil: Reflections on Job 2

 

RCL Proper 27B

6 October 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

       In my final year of seminary I was privileged to participate in an advanced seminar in theology facilitated by Fr Jim Griffiss of blessed memory.  Fr Griffiss was quite particular about who could register for his advanced senior seminar, so places in his course were a hot item on the school’s calendar.  Not only was Fr Griffiss a great teacher, but it was rumoured that he always had cold beer on hand for the seminarians who participated!  I’m able to say that both were true:  Fr Griffiss was a great teacher whose influence on me I still feel and treasure AND he had a commitment to great local craft beers.

 

       He kept the topic of the seminar a bit of a secret until the first week of class.  As we gathered in the seminar room, Fr Griffiss unveiled with a bit of a dramatic flourish the books for the semester.  ‘This seminar is going to be evil,’ he said.  At first we thought he meant that it was going to be really good, but he really meant ‘evil’.  For the next three and a half months we dove into an exploration of ‘evil’.  We spent the first session debating whether we should call the seminar ‘a theology of evil’ or ‘the problem of evil’ or ‘the question of evil’ and any number of other names.  With each new name Fr Griffiss would quickly point out the twists and turns hidden in each possible title that we would need to navigate.  So, by the end of the first session, all of us having enjoyed a beer or two, we settled on simply calling it ‘the Evil Seminar’.

 

       I do not tell you this story lightly.  I tell you this story because every human being who has ever lived, every human culture that has ever existed, every human religion that has ever been founded, has wrestled with what we call ‘evil’.  There is an entire branch of theology devoted to exploring the relationship between God and evil.  Pages and pages, book after book, have been written trying to understand why bad things happen to good people and why human beings seem to be unable to shake off evil despite all the progress we have made.

 

       You and I are keenly aware of evil in its many expressions.  We are made more aware because of our access to all the various forms of contemporary media – the internet, social networks, digital news, printed media, radio, television and podcasts.  There are some who think that evil is more prevalent in our times than at other times in human history, but I think that evil has always touched the lives of human beings in many and various ways.  Our curse is that we know about, read about, talk about in ways that are faster than our ancestors.

 

       We are probably all familiar with the story of Job.  A wealthy man who is known to be a righteous man, a generous man, becomes the object of attention in the heavenly court.  The scene is set almost like a Hollywood movie:  God, here called the ‘Lord’, has called together the heavenly beings.  Among those heavenly beings is one whose is called ‘the accuser’, ‘haSatan’ in Hebrew.  This being is not the Satan of horror movies; this being is not in themselves evil, is not seeking souls to steal from God.  Their job is to go throughout the world checking up on how human beings are keeping faith with their Creator.  When they find someone who is not behaving faithfully, it’s their job to bring that person to God’s attention.

 

       For whatever reason the Lord decides to bring dear Job to the accuser’s attention and to hold Job up as an example of faithfulness.  The accuser simply states the obvious – why wouldn’t a wealthy man be faithful to God, someone who has everything they could want or need.  ‘Just put Job to the test,’ the accuser says, ‘and you’ll soon find out how deep his faithfulness goes.’  And so the Lordaccepts the accuser’s dare, and Job experiences the reality of suffering that he does not deserve, that he does not comprehend, that he does not accept as fair.

 

       There are no words to explain why bad things happen to good people.  There are no words to explain why evil prospers while the good struggles.  There are no words to explain the violence consuming the Middle East, the war between Ukraine and Russia, the violence that is experienced by so many people throughout the world.  There are no words to explain the desperation that causes thousands of people to flee their homes, to sell their possessions and to trust themselves to people-smugglers who put to sea in over-crowded, danger-ridden boats that capsize in the Mediterranean Sea and the English Channel.

 

       There are no words to explain why young people are drawn into the world of drugs that kill.  There are no words to explain why people have to live on the streets.  There are no words to explain the whole litany of tragedies, disappointments and injustices we have seen, we have known, we have experience.

 

       Evil is not a problem that can be solved; it simply is.  Evil is not a question that can be answered; it simply is.  Evil is not a theological category; it simply is.  Why do bad things happen to good people?  I do not have nor do I think that anyone has an answer to that question that will satisfy those whose homes have been destroyed by terror from the skies.

 

       But at the end of today’s reading, we are given a hint of what ought to be the question we ask:  “Then his wife said to him, ‘Do you still persist in your integrity?  Curse God and die.’  But he said to her, ‘You speak as any foolish [person] would speak. Shall we receive good from God and not receive evil?’  In all this Job did not sin with his lips.”  (Job 2.9-10 NRSVue)

 

       When we read, “Job did not sin with his lips,” the writer is telling us what Job, a good man, did when bad things happened.  It is not in our power to banish evil from our world.  We may ponder in the depths of our souls and in the recesses of our mind the question as to why God permits evil to continue, but we are unlikely to receive an answer that we satisfy us or that will heal broken hearts.

 

       But we can direct our minds, our hearts, our souls and our strength towards answering this question:  “What do good people do when bad things happen?”  Good people, despite evil, do justice in our neighbourhoods and wherever our resources permit us.  Good people, despite evil, love kindness extended towards friend and stranger, towards family and neighbours, towards those whom we have never met but whose needs call us to action.  Good people, despite evil, walk humbly before God trusting that God is working God’s purposes out even when we cannot the traces of God’s handiwork as clearly as we might wish to see.

 

       Good people can be angry with God, but they will still press on.  There is a story told about St Teresa of Avila, a sixteenth -century nun, who faced many difficulties in her efforts to reform the monastic communities of her time.  It is said that once, during prayer, she asked Christ why she was facing so many difficulties. She heard Jesus say, ‘This is how I treat my friends.’  Teresa is said to have answered, ‘If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!’  But she did not stop the work that she believed God has given her to do.

 

       Friends, evil is real.  Evil has touched all of us in some manner or another.  It is a mystery that we cannot yet see into clearly.  But good people do not let the evil of the world stop them from doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with God.  Our prayer is the prayer of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, certainly someone whose experience of apartheid made him well-qualified to know how to face evil:

 

Goodness is stronger than evil;

Love is stronger than hate;

Light is stronger than darkness;

Life is strong than death;

Victory is ours through Him who loves us.

 

       

 

 

 

 

Entertaining Angels Unawares: Reflections on the Feast of Michael and All Angels

Feast of Michael and All Angels

29 September 2024

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         When I was in Grade 9, I worked after school for my mother’s daycare centre.  Since her centre was not that far from my school, I used to walk to from school to the centre along a busy street.  During my walk I could think about the day that had past, about my homework and about life in general.

 

         One day, as I was walking, I heard a faint voice calling out, “Richard!  Richard!”  I looked around but could see no one.  The voice called out a second time, this time a little louder, “Richard!  Richard!”  Once again I looked around but could see no one.  I even looked up into the sky and wondered whether some celestial being was calling to me, but the sky was empty.  I kept walking.  The day had heated up a little and walking was not as pleasant as it might have been.

 

         Suddenly the voice shouted right next to me, “Richard!  Are you deaf or are you ignoring me?”  And there, at the side of the road, was Jim, a friend from school, leaning out of the open window of his mother’s car.  “I’ve been calling you for the last five minutes,” Jim said, “Do you want a ride or not?”  I decided to take the divine hint and got in the car.

 

         Sometimes we forget that God’s messengers come to us in unexpectedly.  The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds his readers of Abraham and Sarah to whom three angels appeared in the guise of travellers:  “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13.2 NRSVue)  They are unexpected because they do not appear to us in flames of fire and with wings of light.  They come to us in the persons of family and friends, co-workers and even strangers on the street who speak a word to us that we needed to hear.

 

         When I was in seminary, one of my professors, Jim Griffiss, used to call on me in class by saying, “Dr Leggett, do you have something to add?”  I was afraid that he was making fun of me, so I asked him once why he did so.  He answered, “Because you are called to be a teacher and I expect you will eventually earn your doctorate.”  At the time my goal was to be a parish priest, but Jim was right.  He spoke a word to me even before my own heart and mind had turned to consider such a future.

 

         We miss these angels who come to us unknown, because we have forgotten that the word ‘angel’ simply means ‘messenger’.  To be sure, most of the angels we encounter in the Scriptures are awe-inspiring, even frightening beings who are sent from God to warn, to encourage and to judge.  But angels are also those persons who speak the truth to us when we are not ready to hear it.  They are the voices that sometimes speak words of hope to us when we are struggling to see a way forward in our lives.

 

         We had two such angels come to the Church of the Epiphany on Tuesday evening.  Their names are Annelise and Sydney and they are members of Purpose Driven Developments, our diocesan real estate consultants.  I say that Annelise and Sydney are angels because they are messengers of hope after the disappointment of the last couple of years.

 

         Much of what they shared with us on Tuesday I cannot yet share with you.  We still have many questions to ask, options to explore and paths forward to discern, so it would not be helpful to lay those out before you now.  But what I can say is this:  We are beginning to see a path forward for us that offers a way for us to serve this neighbourhood and to strengthen the many years of ministry our Parish has undertaken here.  It is a sustainable path that will honour our past, increase our vitality and make the best use of our strategic location in Guildford.

 

         Over the coming months we hope to be able to share more with all of you.  But, as the prophet Habakkuk says, “For there is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie.  If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.” (Habakkuk 2.3 NRSVue)  Our task, as we await for this vision to be realized, is to remain faithful in the work God has given us to do in this time and place.  We will continue to pave the way for our new Rector by taking care of our neighbourhood, by caring for our families and children, by proclaiming the good news of God in Christ through Word and Sacrament.

 

         In the meantime, let’s keep our eyes and our ears and our hearts open.  There will be other angels, perhaps even ones who will help us, like they did for Jacob, to see that we are on holy ground where God brings help, hope and home.  For surely, my friends, this is a house for God, a place where God’s glory shines.

 

Who Is the Greatest?

RCL Proper 25B

22 September 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         When I began Grade 7, I was put into a specialized stream in the Colorado Springs Schools called HATS – ‘highly academically-talented students’.  I remained in that stream until I graduated from high school in 1971.  Despite the passage of the years, I remember how my teachers sought to instill in us a morality of obligation.  

 

         On one occasion there was an unfortunate incident between some HATS students and some ‘regular’ students.  Words were exchanged which were hurtful to the ‘regular’ students and there was a bit of pushing and shoving.  Within an hour of the incident, Mr Comer, our social studies teacher, called all the HATS students into a special town hall.  He was furious with how we had behaved and reminded us of the principle that ‘of those to whom much has been given, much is expected’.  Long before I began to think about ordained ministry, Mr Comer set the standard – Leaders have an obligation to serve those among whom they work and live.

 

         He also reminded us that we live in an interwoven world.  Every human being has gifts that enrich the common good.  No one person has all the gifts.  No one person is independent.  We are all inter-dependent upon one another.  To ignore or devalue the gifts and dignity of any person was a moral failure.

 

         Mr Comer lived what he taught.  He was a founder of the Colorado Springs Teacher Association and was elected to the Colorado State Senate.  One of his colleagues wrote that Senator Comer did not speak often, but, when he did, senators on both sides of the aisle listened carefully.

 

         Throughout all of today’s readings from the Scriptures there is a persistent theme of the centrality of servanthood.

 

·      In Proverbs we are presented with the image of a wife and mother and household manager who is the foundation for the well-being and success of her family.  She uses her talents, her time and her treasure to achieve the best for all who rely upon her for their food, their shelter and their stability.

·      The writer of the Letter of James is a bit like Mr Comer.  He’s fed up with the irresponsible behaviour of the community and for their vanity and their striving for self-gain.

·      And then we hear Jesus chastising his disciples for their fascination with the question of who is the greatest amongst them – an interesting conversation to be had among a group of people who are, to be honest, not a particularly distinguished group of people.

 

         In the Gospel Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” (Mark 9.35b NRSVue)  The writer of the Gospel uses a very specific word.  We are to be ‘deacons’ of all.  In the time of the New Testament there were many words used for those who served others – errand boy, slave, hired hand, household staff.  But to be called a ‘deacon’ meant something very specific.

 

         A deacon is an agent of the person to whom they are responsible.  A deacon is someone who makes things happen for the good of their employer.  A deacon takes the initiative to make sure that the best interests of those who have chosen them are made to happen.  A deacon does not serve themselves; their vision is outward-looking and community-oriented.

 

         What Mr Comer might have said to my colleagues and me is that we were called to be ‘deacons’ for the good of the whole community.  Our time, our talents and our treasure were to be directed outward to enable and to nurture the common good.  Who was the greatest was an irrelevant and pointless question.

 

         As we continue our journey towards the renewal of our Parish and towards the selection of a new Rector, today’s readings remind us of the fundamental attitude we bring to this quest.  We come as people who yearn to be ‘servants of all’.  Our worship strengthens us to discern how we might best serve our neighbours – those who worship here, those who do not, those who do not even know that we exist.  Our discussions about the future of our property need to arise from our commitment to serve this neighbourhood.  Our discernment of a new Rector is guided by a desire to have someone who is a ‘servant-leader’ of this Parish.

 

         Today I invite you to remember the Mr Comers in your lives, the people who have shown you that true freedom, true greatness, lies in the service of God and of the world that God has created.  Remember them.  More importantly, let us imitate them and work towards that world God invites us to imagine and to shape.

Send in the Clowns: Reflections on 1 Corinthians 1.18-25

 

Holy Cross Day

15 September 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

            When I was growing up, I had little experience with clowns.  I went to a few circuses and there were clowns chasing each other around.  I went to a few parades and there were clowns throwing candy to the people along the street.  I went to rodeos and there were clowns whose job was to distract the bucking horses and bulls so that the cowboys they had thrown off could get to safety.  But my encounters with clowns were always from a distance.

 

            This all changed when I became a curate at Christ Episcopal Church in Denver, Colorado.  Paula and I became active adult leaders in a diocesan youth program called ‘Happening’, something like Cursillo for young people.  Among the other adult leaders was a young man who was also a clown.  His clown name was Clarence Job and he was a silent clown, a mime.  Clarence Job understood clowning to be a form of Christian ministry.  Let me tell you why.

 

            Throughout human history clowns have had a variety of roles in society.  Clowns entertain people by their physical comedy, their slap-stick antics and their magic.  But clowns also have a serious role.  Clowns have often been critics of the world as it is.  You may be familiar with the term ‘court jester’.  Court jesters served both to entertain the rich and the powerful, but they also had the dangerous work of making fun of the rich and the powerful.  Clowning has always been a socially-acceptable way to publicly ridicule those who think of themselves as superior to the rest of humanity.  Clowns turn the world upside down.  So sometimes, in order to bring balance to a world going or gone bad, we bring in the clowns.

 

            Today we are keeping the Feast of the Holy Cross.  It is thought that on this day, more than sixteen hundred years ago, the Empress Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine the Great, was present when pieces of the cross on which Jesus was crucified were found in Jerusalem.  As an act of thanksgiving, Helena and Constantine built a massive church in the centre of Jerusalem, a church that enclosed a vast amount of space.  Today only the Church of the Holy Sepulchre remains of this once vast church.  But time cannot blur our focus on what the Cross means for us.

 

            Paul writes, “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being save it is the power of God . . . . For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1.18, 25 NRSVue)

 

            Our belief that in the death of Jesus, a Jewish rabbi from a small town far away from any centre of political and cultural power, the world is turned upside down is considered by the vast majority of people as foolishness.  “Throughout the New Testament . . . we discover that God acts like a clown, that the Lord of the Universe acts like a fool.  Unreasonable.  Not responsible.  Not sensible.  Not practical but downright foolish.” [1]

 

·      In order to get our attention God comes to us in the person of Jesus who ends up suffering as we suffer.

·      Jesus is not the child of the rich and powerful but of a carpenter and a young woman in a poor country.

·      Jesus is not born into a palace but in a barn.

·      Jesus teaches us to love our enemies as well as our friends.

·      Jesus teaches us to love the stranger as much as we love our family.

·      Jesus chooses as his disciples a motley crew of illiterate fisherfolk, tax-collectors and political subversives.

·      Jesus teaches us that everything we have is a gift, a pure gift, from a generous God who is not as concerned about our worthiness as we are. [2]

            I do not need to convince any of you who are here today that our world is not the upside-down world that God in Jesus is proclaiming.  In our world, the common wisdom is that 

 

·      strength is better than weakness,

·      effectiveness is better than ineffectiveness,

·      might makes right and

·      nice guys finish last. [3]

 

            But in the Cross of Jesus we see what C. S. Lewis, the twentieth-century Christian writer, called ‘the deep magic of the universe’. [4]  Those who live their lives according to the principle that ‘might makes right’ and that ‘the one with most toys at the end wins’ are actually ‘perishing’, to use Paul’s words.  Their lives are ‘falling apart’ and the tragedy is that they either do not know this or that they know this but are afraid to change.

 

            On the other hand, the ‘deep magic’ of the Cross works differently for those whom Paul says are being ‘saved’.  Those who have fallen in love with the ‘deep magic’ of the good news of God in Jesus are actually ‘putting their lives together’.  We know that the world as it is does not work for any of us.  We have been touched by God’s wisdom, a wisdom that teaches us that “ . . . God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honour to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another.  If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together with it.” (I Corinthians 12.24a-26)

 

            When I remember the Cross, I remember that God is not afraid to be a clown and to turn my world upside-down.  When I remember the Cross, I remember that Christ comes amongst us like a clown and challenges all our norms.  When I remember the Cross, I remember that the Holy Spirit dwells within each one of us and makes us clowns for God.

            The Russian iconographer Andrei Rublev created an icon of the Holy Trinity which is treasured throughout the world.  Around a round table sit the three angels who visited Abraham and Sarah.  The three angels are identical and they extend their hands towards the table.  On the table there is chalice in the centre.  Bishop Brian Cole writes that " . . . no one is grasping for control or power, but offering each other expressions of grace, mercy, love and service to each other.  Here is our power.  Here is our wisdom."

 

            So, my friends, let us give thanks that God has sent in the clowns.  May we be fools for Christ who dare to say that true wisdom is found in making room for others, that true greatness is found in washing the feet of others, that true wealth is found in loving others as Christ has loved us.

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[1] Edward F. Marquart, ‘Here comes the Clowns!’ at www.sermonsfromseattle.com/series_a_here_come_the_clowns.htm accessed on 12 September 2024.

 

[2] Marquart 2024.

 

[3] Scott Hoezee at http://cepreaching.org/commentary/2018-02-26/1-corinthians-118-25-2 accessed on 12 September 2024.

 

[4] Hoezee 2024.