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.

---

[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.

 

Be Careful How You Look at the World: Reflections on Mark 7.24-37

 

 

RCL Proper 23B

8 September 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

            One of the privileges I had as a member of the faculty of Vancouver School of Theology was becoming a colleague of Sallie McFague.  Sallie was a theologian of breadth, of wisdom and of clarity.  She was a pioneer in applying theological insights to the environmental crisis we face as well as a perceptive observer of how Christians can lose sight of the sacredness of the world in which we live.

 

            One of her frequent sayings was this:  “Be careful how you look at the world because that’s the way it is.”  If we look at the world as a place where the rich and the powerful have unlimited control over us, then we are likely to live into that expectation.  If we only listen to the voices that agree with us, then we are likely not to hear the voices of those experiences and wisdom might actually enrich our understanding of the world.

 

            When the Syro-Phoenician woman approaches Jesus, he only sees a foreign woman who is not a member of the people of Israel.  She is not among those to whom Jesus feels called to minister.  She has crossed the boundary of proper first-century Mediterranean etiquette by daring to speak to a Jewish teacher, to the rising star from Nazareth.  

 

            Her request is not an unusual one.  It’s a request that Jesus has heard more than once over the months of his ministry.  It’s not a request beyond his ability to act.  What offends him is the identity of the person who is asking for his compassion, for him to extend God’s healing beyond the boundaries of Israel.

 

            We have to acknowledge that what Jesus says to her is not a joke but an insult.  What he says to her is not a test of her faith but an attempt to put her in her place.  What he says to her says that she’s not a member of the ‘in-group’ but an unwelcome outsider.  In his eyes she and the rest of her community have no part in the mission he has undertaken.

 

            After such an insult most of us would have turned away in disappointment.  But not this woman.  She is having none of Jesus’ snobbery and narrow-mindedness.  She has as much a legitimate call upon his healing power as any Israelite.  The world that she sees is wider and more inclusive than the one that Jesus sees.  

 

            More importantly, she is willing to take the risk of ridicule and scandal too make that world happen.  Jesus may think that he’s very clever in comparing her to a dog, but he has met his match in this mother of a daughter in need.  She sees more clearly than Jesus does that God’s saving work extends far beyond the limits of a small Jewish enclave surrounded by peoples of many nations, many languages and many needs.  She sees the kingdom of God and she expects it to include her.

 

            At this moment in time, our Parish is looking at the world around us.  This world is shaped by the history of ministry in this place over the last fifty years and more.  It is a world that has seen moments of great hopefulness and moments of disappointments.  We have seen changes not only in the neighbourhood that surrounds us but in the people who gather in this place to hear the Word of God, to lift up our voices in prayer and to receive the bread and wine of the eucharist.

 

            Now we look to the future.  We’ve taken the first steps towards the re-development of our property, but we cannot see the entirety of the path that lies before us.  We’ve begun to craft the story we wish to tell in order to aid in calling a new rector.

 

            In the midst of all this, I still hear Sallie McFague’s voice.  How are we looking at the world around us?  Are we companions of the Syro-Phoenician woman who saw the kingdom of God opening wide before her – despite the narrower vision expressed by Jesus?  Can we be bold in challenging the limits of our fears with a vision of a renewed community rising up to be the body of Christ in this neighbourhood?

 

            Yes, I believe we can.  It hasn’t been easy thus far and it may not be easy in the months ahead. But we have another world in view and it’s one that worth the risks. 

All You Need Is Love: Reflections on Song of Songs 2.8-13

 

RCL Proper 22B

1 September 2024

 

Anglican Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         In the Scriptures there is one book that makes no mention of God.  That book is the Song of Songs from which we heard a portion as the first reading this morning.  It is a collection of love poems between a woman and a man that contains some language that is what we might call ‘racy’.  Despite the absence of any reference to God and some of the racy language, the Song of Songs has been part of the Hebrew Scriptures since the second century of what we call ‘the Common Era’, the period of time since the beginning of the Christian movement.

 

         In Judaism the Song of Songs is usually interpreted as a description of the love that God has for the people of Israel.  Portions of the Song of Songs are read at Passover and, in some Jewish traditions, at the beginning of the Sabbath on Friday night.  Christians have followed the Jewish tradition by generally interpreting the Song of Songs as a description of the love that Christ has for the Church and of the love between God and the soul.

 

         These interpretations are all well and good.  They calm the nerves of those who are bothered by the language of the Song of Songs, and they avoid dealing with the fact that the woman is the main voice in the Song of Songs, a fact that some Jewish and Christian traditions find hard to swallow.

 

         But I think that these traditional interpretations obscure an essential dimension of being a human being:  the importance of mutual and faithful loving relationships.  Without mutual and faithful loving relationships, we cannot grow into greater likeness to God, the ultimate goal of genuine human maturity.  Whether these mutual and faithful relationships are life-long relationships that involve sexual intimacy or relationships between family members or relationships between friends does not matter.  What matters is that we understand that how we love one another matters to God.

 

         Mutual and faithful relationships create loving communities that nurture and support our values and hopes.    Within loving communities we are empowered to grow and to mature.  Within loving communities we empowered to become who we truly are in an environment that respects and fosters our diverse gifts.

 

         Mutual and faithful relationships enable us to acknowledge our faults and to seek reconciliation and renewal.  You may remember the 1970’s movie, Love Story, and its famous line, ‘Loves means never having to say you’re sorry.’  No falser statement has ever been made.  Mutual and faithful relationships understand the necessity of forgiveness so that old hurts and new wrongs can be laid aside in order to shape a new creation.  In a world beset by an absence of forgiveness, a dearth of reconciliation, our loving relationships can be part of the healing of creation.

 

         Mutual and faithful relationships embody the good news of God in Christ.  We shape our lives in accordance with the vision of the kingdom of God we see in Jesus.  Our relationships, whether at home or at work or in our neighbourhoods, reveal how the love of God embodied in Jesus can transform lives “ . . . so that we and all (God’s) children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise (God’s) name” (The Book of Alternative Services1985, 215). 

 

         Mutual and faithful relationships strengthen us in loving our neighbours as ourselves.  Archbishop William Temple is supposed to have said that the Christian community is the one human society that exists primarily for its non-members.  To love another person means taking the risk to do what is needed so that the other person can become more truly who they are.  At the heart of service is listening and truly loving relationships teach us how to listen to one another – without judgement, without an agenda, without expectation of any reward other than the strengthening of love.

 

         Mutual and faithful relationships empower us to work to overcome all the arbitrary restrictions and obstacles that prevent others from experiencing the fullness of life.  Healthy and life-giving relationships can only thrive where people are free from all that inhibits genuine human community.  When we enjoy such relationships, we can banish “ . . . all that kills abundant living . . . pride of status, race or schooling, dogmas that obscure (God’s) plan” (Fred Kaan, ‘For the Healing of the Nations’ in Songs for a Gospel People1987, #23).

 

         In today’s second reading from the Letter of James, we are encouraged to be “ . . . doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. “ (James 1.22 NRSVue).  In our proper praise and gratitude for the love of God, we may forget that our own relationships of mutual and faithful love with other human beings are how we do the Word not just hear it.

 

         It’s hard work to create and sustain relationships of mutual and faithful love.  Sometimes we have to acknowledge our failures and seek out new paths.  But we cannot give up on the life-long vocation to be people who know that without mutual and faithful human love we cannot abide in God.  Perhaps this is the knowledge that led the Jewish and Christian teachers to recognize that the Song of Songs is ‘Holy Word and Holy Wisdom’.  Thanks be to God.

 

            Note:  The core of this sermon is based on ‘Towards a Theology of Christians in Marriage’ written in 2005 as a theological commentary on the Marriage Canon of the Anglican Church of Canada.