Heavenly Minded and Earthly Good: A Reflection on Matthew 13.24-30, 36-43

RCL Proper 16A

19 July 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

Tending the garden given to us

         I have a confession to make.  Although I admire and sometimes even envy those folks whose homes are surrounded with gorgeous gardens and well-manicured lawns, I am not one of those people.  I try my best to keep things under some control, but no one would ever put my home on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens except as a cautionary tale. 

 

         For many years I have borne a light burden of guilt, but recently I have been given a reason to lay that burden aside – at least for some of the time.  You may know that we are facing a crisis – there is a serious decline in bee populations with a potentially disastrous effect on our food production and those very gardens I envy.  The causes are manifold and some are linked to global climate change as well as environmental pollution.  But there is one small thing we can do:  let your dandelions blossom.

 

         I have often seen dandelions as a metaphor for the kingdom of God.  They are resilient and they spread their seeds far and wide.  They will spring up in places that no other plant will.  Despite all the best efforts of gardeners throughout the world, dandelions continue to blossom.  But there is something else about them.  Dandelions are among the first plants to flower in the spring.  As the bees awake from hibernation, dandelions often provide them with their first meal.  By allowing our dandelions to blossom in the early spring, we are doing our bees great service.  

 

You have heard said, but I say to you.

         One of the things that we frequently hear Jesus say in the Gospels is this:  ‘You have heard said, but I say to you . . . .’  Well, today I am going to offer a reflection that may seem to diverge somewhat from what Jesus says about the parable of the wheat and the weeds.

 

         You have heard Jesus say that the good seed are the children of God and the bad seed the children of the evil one.  And so we have believed and taught for many generations. But the dandelions have taught me that there might be another way of looking at this parable, one that does not have such an either/or interpretation.

 

         Discerning what is the good seed is not difficult.  Whenever we see someone who is practicing a Christ-like life, whose love of God reveals itself in self-giving love of neighbour, who builds bridges rather than walls, who respects the dignity of every human being, then we know that we are witnessing the good seed of the kingdom.

 

         I dare say that discerning what is the bad seed is also not so difficult.  When leaders care more about self-interest and less about the common good, when the powerful use any means to secure their power at the expense of others, when communities embrace division rather than unity, then we know we are witnessing the bad seed that only denies God’s sovereignty and human dignity.

 

         But there are moments when we are less certain.  Rather than rush into judgement about what is the good seed and what is the bad seed, might the parable also be counselling us to practice patient discernment.  There is wisdom in the householder’s words:  ‘Let both of them grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first . . . ‘  When the time is right, we might discover that some of what might have, at first glance, been thought weeds, when they might actually be dandelions, providing an unexpected source of grace.

 

         I love Paul’s words in the 8^th chapter of Romans:  “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.  For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God . . . . But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8.18-19, 25)  We wait eagerly and yet patiently for what will emerge from the soil of our lives.

 

         Soon Sebastian will arrive and take up his role as a member of the leadership of this Parish.  Just like the householder, the lay and ordained leaders of this Parish will wait to see what emerges from the variety of seeds that have been sown in our midst.  In some cases, we will be able to discern quickly what is life-giving and what is not.  In others, we will have to wait patiently to discern what fruit they will bear.  But led by the Spirit, we can wait and trust that God is working the divine purpose in us, through us and for us.

  

O God of unchangeable power and eternal light,

look favourably on your whole Church,

that wonderful and sacred mystery.

By the effectual working of your providence,

carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation.

Let the whole world see and know

that things which were cast down are being raised up,

and things which had grown old are being made new,

and that all things are being brought to their perfection

by him through whom all things were made,

your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

 

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[i] Genesis 28.10-19a; Psalm 139.1-11, 22-23 (BAS); Romans 8.12-25 ; Matthew 13.24-30, 36-43.

Whose Service Is Perfect Freedom: Reflections for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost

 

RCL Proper 14A [i]

5 July 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

Editing matters.

            For most of my career I have been an editor of theological journals, liturgical texts and graduate students’ papers.  Most readers of books and essays are unaware of the importance of editors.  We read the printed word differently with an eye to clarity of expression so that the reader has the best possible experience.            

            Some years ago, when I was in the midst of a particularly difficult editing task, a colleague suggested that I read Lynne Truss’ book, Eats, Shoots and Leaves:  The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation.  Her book begins with a joke:  ‘A panda walks into a bar, eats some peanuts, pulls out a gun and shots into the air.  Then he leaves.  The bartender, quite rightly disturbed by this, chases the panda, stops him and says, “What was that all about?”  The panda pulls a copy of an encyclopedia article out of his shoulder bag and reads the following:  “A panda eats, shoots and leaves” ’.  The presence of a misplaced comma between ‘eats’ and ‘shoots’ explains the panda’s behaviour.  Remove the comma and you have a gentler description:  What do pandas eat?  They eat shoots and leaves.

            Over the past several weeks, we’ve been listening to Paul’s wrestling with a question that has theological significance:  What makes a Christian a Christian?  And grammar matters.

 

Faith before works

            Paul has been writing to a community that he has never visited and that is being wracked by disputes about the relationship between Jewish law and practice and the influx of non-Jewish believers in Christ.  Some people seem to be saying this:  If you behave in such and such a way including following Jewish law and practice, then you are a Christian.  Paul sees this as an impediment to the inclusion of non-Jewish believers.  Paul turns the sentence around and says this:  If you believe in what God has done in Jesus of Nazareth, then you will follow in the ways taught and embodied in Jesus.  

            Paul understands that how we live our lives has greater integrity when it is rooted in what we believe, what has become beloved to us.  Actions do matter to Paul, but actions that are not fuelled by our choice to be disciples of Jesus can lead us towards judgementalism and self-righteousness rather than love of neighbour. 

            We find this understanding of the life of discipleship in the baptismal covenant we proclaim and re-affirm at every baptism and confirmation.  It is a covenant that reminds us of the danger of separating our love of Christ from our actions that arise from that love.  It is a covenant that seeks to empower us to keep judgementalism and self-righteousness at bay.

 

·      We persevere in resisting evil because we know that often fall into sin and need to repent and return to the Lord.

·      We love our neighbours as ourselves because Christ comes to us in them.

·      We strive for justice and peace because we recognize how we so often fail to respect the dignity of every human being.

·      We strive to safeguard the integrity of God’s creation because this fragile earth is our island home and failure to care is a form of self-harm.

 

But it is not by doing these things that we become Christians.  It is because we are Christians that we do these things.  The wellspring of discipleship is the image of God found in each one of us.

 

An easy yoke and a light burden

            It is this way of reading Paul that helps me understand what may be behind one of Jesus’ sayings that I have always struggled to understand.  Last week you heard me preach on the centrality of love of neighbour in our walk of faith and how difficult that love is, especially in our highly partisan and siloed world.  So it is that I have always struggled to interpret these words of Jesus:  “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.   Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” [ii] 

            If I look at this passage from the perspective of Paul’s opponents in Rome, then there is no easy yoke nor light burden.  Trying to love my neighbour, to be forgiving, to work for peace and justice, to care for the earth become a to-do list that becomes overwhelming.  I remember when a classmate of mine was bemoaning all that he had to do in the coming months.  Another classmate told him to remember that God never gives us more than we can bear.  My friend responded, ‘Well, God has seriously over-estimated my ability!’ 

            But if I look at this passage from Paul’s perspective, then the yoke does seem easier and the burden lighter.  It is not the list of my accomplishments that matters, but how my love of Christ and choice to be a disciple fuels whatever efforts I make to manifest the life of the Spirit in my everyday affairs.  The yoke is easy because I am yoked to Christ and to all who believe in Christ.  The burden is light because I do not carry it alone; With Christ and with you we carry a burden of compassion, joy and open-handedness rather than an onerous burden of unending drudgery.

            Chesley Harmon, a pastor of the Christian Reformed Church in Langley, writes, “In our cultural moment, judgementalism is being sold to us as good judgement. . . . As we become so entrenched against one another, . . . we become more and more judgemental without actual information.  I wonder how many of us are aware of how wearying it is to carry such a way of being in the world.  Jesus’ way of compassion and curiosity may seem hard to follow, but it turns out to be much lighter a load.” [iii]

 

Trusting the editor

            My friends, editing does matter.  How we word our faith and then write it in the daily conduct of our lives matters.  What gives me hope and confidence is that there is an Editor at work whose wisdom exceeds my own.  Sometimes all we can do is recite the alphabet of faith and trust that the Spirit will fashion the Word from the letters.  At that seems to me to be an easy yoke and a light burden to bear.

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[i] Genesis 24.34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45.11-18 (BAS); Romans 7.15-25a; Matthew 11.16-19, 25-30.

 

[ii] Matthew 11.28-30 (NRSVue).

 

[iii] https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2026-06-29/matthew-1116-19-25-30-4.

 

All Are Welcome in This Place: Reflections on Matthew 10.40-42

 

All Are Welcome in This Place

Reflections on Matthew 10.40-42

 

RCL Proper 13A [i]

28 June 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” [ii]

 

Won’t you be my neighbour?

         If you had visited my fraternity house on a weekday afternoon between 3.00 p.m. and 5.00 p.m., you would have found most of us upstairs in the television lounge watching a children’s program on the Public Broadcasting Service.  A slender, middle-aged man would enter the stage set, remove his outer coat and put on a cardigan.  As he was doing this, he would be singing, “It’s a wonderful day in the neighbourhood, a wonderful day in the neighbourhood, would you be my neighbour?”  His name was Fred Rogers, and he was an ordained Presbyterian minister who was among the first to grasp the impact that children’s television could have on raising responsible, compassionate adults.

 

         Now you might wonder why a group of often rowdy, irreverent college students would gather around the television watching a children’s program with the attentiveness of someone attending a papal mass in Saint Peter’s Basilica.  We did so because Mr Rogers had the gifts of speaking to us as young men who were legally adults but not yet who we might become.  In a society that still tries to mould young people after celebrity models rather than meaningful models, Mr Rogers liked us for who we were in that moment and offered us some wisdom about how we might become wise, welcoming adults.

 

         Every week Mr Rogers would leave his set and wander the neighbourhood, accompanied by a camera crew.  He would connect with interesting people – beekeepers, bakers, librarians, emergency services – the ‘usual suspects’.  But he would also spend time with people digging ditches or collecting garbage or fixing fences.  After each of those conversations, it was impossible not to realize that Mr Rogers was teaching us the dignity of every human being and that we depend upon each other for the creation of a just society.  He embodied a hymn, well known to Lutherans and only recently to Anglicans:

 

Let us build a house where love can dwell

and all can safely live,

a place where saints and children tell

how hearts learn to forgive.

Built of hopes and dreams and visions,

rock of faith and vault of grace;

here the love of Christ shall end divisions:

All are welcome, all are welcome,

all are welcome in this place. [iii]

 

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

         Although the gospel text for today focuses on welcome, I could not help but hear the word ‘neighbour’ throughout it.  A careful reading of the Scriptures – the Hebrew Scriptures, the Apocrypha and the New Testament -- will reveal a unifying theme throughout them that is at risk in our highly partisan and increasingly ‘other’-phobic culture:  the arc of welcome and inclusion is long but bends inevitably towards unconditional acceptance of every human being as our neighbour.

 

         We do not have time today for an extensive Bible study into this theme, but a familiar text from the New Testament but rooted in the Hebrew Scriptures will suffice.

 

When the Pharisees heard that [Jesus] had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, an expert in the law, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” [iv]

 

Our current tragedy is that many of our leaders seem to imitate the young lawyer in the Gospel according to Luke who asks Jesus, ‘But who is my neighbour?’  The young lawyer is rewarded with the Parable of the Good Samaritan, but its message does not seem to reach into the hearts of many with power. [v]

 

Love of neighbour is not easy.

         Loving one’s neighbour is not easy.  It is a prophetic ministry – bringing God’s word into the present moment with a call to action.  Prophets are rarely the most loved members of a community and are often rewarded with scorn, persecution, ridicule and death – both physical and social.

 

         It’s not easy because love of neighbour includes loving those whom we would rather ignore or exclude – each one of us has a list of those we would prefer not to have to encounter in our prophetic ministry.  I am reminded of a story about Bill Burnett, the Archbishop of Capetown from 1974 to 1981.  During the anti-apartheid struggle he would invite leaders of the government to breakfast or lunch.  They would arrive expecting a lecture, but instead they were treated to a gracious and compassionate conversation about their families, their hopes, their fears.  It was only then that Archbishop Burnett would talk about how apartheid was corroding the perpetrators as well as the victims.  Burnett was criticized by many, but I think he planted seeds that later bore fruit.

 

         It’s not easy because human beings have an uncanny ability to create ‘us’ and ‘them’ categories.  Rather than navigate the challenges of human diversity, we all have moments when we would prefer to paddle in a pond of sameness.  I remember speaking with one of my professors in seminary who had been an outspoken and courageous advocate for the ordination of women.  He had been in a funk and I asked him why.  He responded, ‘Because since 1976 the club has changed.’  He wasn’t wishing to return to the past; he was simply acknowledging that ‘stormy future’ was just that – stormy.

 

         In the weeks ahead Pride events will be taking placed throughout the Lower Mainland, our country and the world.  Many of us know from personal experience the conflicts that have raged over the recognition of the dignity and rights of the LGBTQIA+ community.  To this day there are too many places in the world where people are not free to be who they are and actively prevented from becoming truly free.  I cannot help but see this as a symptom of our human weakness and our failure to love our neighbours as fully as God loves every beloved in whom God’s image dwells.

 

         But the arc of welcome and inclusion continues to bend towards unconditional acceptance of every human being as our neighbour.  And the question asked by Mr Rogers continues to be the question God asks of us each day, in every encounter, in every relationship, ‘Won’t you be my neighbour?’  Dare we say ‘No’?

 

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[i] Genesis 22.1-14; Psalm 13; Romans 6.12-23; Matthew 10.40-42.

 

[ii] Matthew 10.40-42 (NRSVue).

 

[iii] Marty Haugen, “Let Us Build a House,” Sing a New Creation (2022) #10.

 

[iv] Matthew 22.34-40 (NRSVue).

 

[v] Luke 10.25-37 (NRSVue).

 

Where God's Call Meets Our Deepest Need: Reflections for the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost

 

RCL Proper 10A [i]

7 June 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

Introduction

         Over the past several weeks Jeffrey and I have been following a common path in our preaching – that God entrusts to us, to all of humanity, a role in God’s mission to re-create, to redeem and to renew our world.  At times this mystery seems foolish to those who do not share our faith and overwhelming to those who do.  But we cannot escape this truth:  what we do, as disciples of Christ, matters to God and can achieve ‘more than we can ask or imagine’.  

 

         Today’s readings lead us even deeper into this mystery.  They beckon us to consider our vocation, our call.  Frederick Buechner, the American writer and theologian, once wrote that “Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.”  I am bold enough to take this quotation and to re-work it slightly:  Often God’s call to us responds to our deepest need as individuals and as communities. [ii]  

 

Leaving Haran behind

         Why would Abram pack up all his belongings and leave everyone and everything he knew behind to begin a life-time journey in stages?  Because God’s call spoke to Abram’s deepest need – a longing for a legacy.  Paul picks up on this need in today’s reading from the Letter to the Romans:  “Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become ‘the father of many nations,’ according to what was said, ‘So shall your descendants be.’” [iii]

         

         Some years ago as Archdeacon of Westminster, I had to participate in the difficult task of bringing the ministry of the Parish of Saint Catherine’s in Port Coquitlam to an end.  As you can imagine, there were strong emotions and, to be honest, strong disagreements.  But the Parish had the good fortune to be working with their Regional Dean, Eric Mason, the then Rector of Saint Laurence’s in Coquitlam.  Eric asked a simple question, ‘What legacy do you wish to leave?’  Because Saint Catherine’s had a long-standing and strong commitment to pastoral care, they rallied behind this question and left a large endowment to support hospital and care-home chaplaincy in the Diocese and especially in the Fraser Health Authority.  And their legacy endures.

 

Leaving profit behind

         Why did Matthew heed Jesus’ call to leave a profitable if unpopular occupation behind him and to venture a life of wandering from town to town?  Because Jesus spoke to Matthew’s deepest need – acceptance.

 

         Perhaps you remember the comedy series, Cheers, that centres around the patrons of a bar in Boston.  Some of the patrons are of dubious character, others endearing, still others eliciting deep sympathy.  But the theme song of the series expressed what all of them were seeking: 

 

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot
Wouldn't you like to get away?

 

Sometimes you wanna go

Where everybody knows your name
And they're always glad you came
You wanna be where you can see (Ah)
Our troubles are all the same (Ah)

You wanna be where everybody knows your name. [iv]

 

         Jesus accepts Matthew just as he is.  Jesus dines out with those folk whom the ‘right’ people avoid like the plague.  But Jesus knows their names.  It is his acceptance of who they are that is the catalyst for them becoming who they are called to be.  All of us need to have a place where we are known and accepted and given a vision of what can be.

 

Leaving propriety behind

         Why did the leader come to Jesus and to risk his reputation to seek the aid of an itinerant Jewish rabbi often at odds with the establishment?  As we know from earlier verses in today’s gospel, reaching out to Jesus is not exactly career-boosting or socially acceptable.  But Jesus spoke to the leader’s deepest need – hope and healing.

 

         Why did the woman suffering such a life-changing ailment reach out to Jesus and risk rejection for crossing all boundaries of proper behaviour between Jewish women and men?  Just as the leader was taking a risk, so was this woman.  Nothing generates hostility faster than breaking a cultural taboo.  But in Jesus she saw the answer to her deepest need – hope and healing.

 

Our deepest need

         As I look at the Church in this third decade of the twenty-first century, I see a community that longs for hope, for healing, for legacy.

 

         Hope is grounded in a vision of what can be even given all the obstacles we believe we are facing.

 

         Healing cannot be achieved without hope.  Even as we acknowledge our woundedness, hope empowers us to discern the path towards wholeness (sōtēria).

 

         Hope-filled and healing communities have the potential to to entrust to succeeding generations a legacy of help, hope and home.

 

         When the new food pantry was installed in the parking lot, the organizers asked if I would share a few thoughts about why, in an affluent neighbourhood such as West Point Grey, a food pantry was appropriate.  ‘Because,’ I said, ‘behind many of these doors are hungry people – seniors, students, families stretched beyond their means – they need a sign that we see them and we are a place of help, of hope and of home.’

         

Faith is not passive.

         There is a tradition in Judaism known as midrash, a method of interpreting biblical texts that bridge the gap between the literal text of the scriptural texts and the questions of later generations.  One midrash tells the story of Nachshon, a young leader of the tribe of Judah.  When the people of Israel arrived at the Red Sea as they sought to escape the army of Pharaoh, Nachshon walked into the sea until the waters reached his nose.  Only then did the waters part and allow the Israelites to cross safely to the other side.

 

         This story reminds us of a simple truth:  Faith in God’s promises is not passive.  We are always called upon to act in anticipation that God will fulfill the promise made to us – perhaps to our ancestors in the faith, perhaps to those who will come after us.

 

         Abram did not wait for the fulfillment of the promise.  He packed up and made his way towards Canaan and a future he would not see fully realized.

 

         Matthew packed up, left his business behind and followed Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem and beyond.

 

         The leader and the woman took the risk of social disapproval in the hope of healing and restoration.

 

         Hope, help and home are among the deepest needs of every human being.  They are the legacy we have received.  They are the gifts we offer.  They are the legacy we strive to leave.

 

 

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[i] Genesis 12.1-9; Psalm 33.1-12; Romans 4.13-25; Matthew 9.9-13, 18-26 (semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture readings).

 

[ii] Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking (1973) at https://www.frederickbuechner.com/quote-of-the-day/2022/11/14/vocation.

 

[iii] Romans 4.18 (New Revised Standard Version updated edition).

 

[iv] https://genius.com/Gary-portnoy-where-everybody-knows-your-name-cheers-theme-lyrics accessed on 6 June 2026.

 

The Courage to Act: Reflections on Pentecost

 

RCL Pentecost A [i]

24 May 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

Retracing our steps

            Two weeks ago I began this three-part sermon by asking the question, ‘How can we do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine?’  The answer provided by Jesus, who has ‘great expectations’ of us, is that God will send us the gift of the Paraklētos, the one who will advocate on our behalf, who will comfort us, who will counsel us and who will be our companion on the journey of faith.

            Last week I offered some thoughts about why we need the Spirit’s advocacy, comfort, counsel and companionship.  We need that advocacy, comfort, counsel and companionship, because God, in God’s infinite wisdom and, dare I say, sense of humour, has entrusted us to continue the ministry to the world begun in creation, continued in the life of the people of Israel and brought to a new chapter in the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus.  God anticipated the motto of the University of British Columbia by many millennia by saying to us, ‘Tuum est.’  ‘It’s over to you now.’

            Now it is all well and good that God should promise us the gift of the Spirit and should entrust to us the continuation of the mission and ministry of Jesus.  But a simple review of the human condition and our history as a species would suggest that we need something more.  We need more than advocacy, comfort, counsel and companionship.  We need something within us to spur us into doing what we are called to be, to do and to become.

            Garrison Keillor, the American humourist, hosted a wonderful radio program called, ‘A Prairie Home Companion’ on public radio in the United States.  Done in the style of the late forties and fifties, one of the ‘sponsors’ of the program was the makers of ‘Powdermilk Biscuits’, a treat that promised giving "shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done.’  Well, friends, on this Pentecost, it’s fair to ask what the Spirit is going to give us, so that we have the strength to get up and do what needs to be done.

 

Courage is the gift of the Spirit.

            Thirty-one years ago I travelled to Ottawa to participate as a member of General Synod from the Diocese of New Westminster.  As I was registering, I was suddenly whisked away and asked if I would be willing to preside and preach at a three-point parish in the Ottawa Valley that coming Sunday.  It turned out that the priest who was going to host a number of people from dioceses in British Columbia had come down with a serious case of laryngitis.  I said ‘yes’ and then had reason to regret my answer.  That coming Sunday was Pentecost.

            General Synod 1995 took place is a highly-charged atmosphere.  We were in the early days of our conflict over the full inclusion of LGTBQ disciples in the life of our Church.  A three-year ‘listening to diverse voices’ project had indicated that we weren’t listening well to one another and that diversity, much as it has become again, was a red flag to a bull.  So, in the days leading up to Pentecost, I found myself pondering what was the gift of the Spirit that came upon the apostolic community.

            Despite what we heard in the Acts of the Apostles this morning, the gift of the Spirit was more than the ability to proclaim the good news of God in Jesus of Nazareth in the many and diverse languages spoken among those who heard Peter speak two thousand years ago.  I realized that the primary gift of the Spirit was something more subtle but essential.

            The evangelist Luke tells us that Jesus spent forty days after his resurrection providing the apostolic community with a comprehensive ‘continuing education’ course on his mission and ministry.  The evangelist John tells of a number of encounters the apostles and others had with the risen Jesus.  So, it would seem that Peter and his community knew what the mission and ministry given to them was all about.  What they lacked was one thing:  courage.

            We know that the apostolic community was afraid.  We know that they were meeting behind closed doors.  We know that some had been arrested by the religious authorities.  We know that in a short time one will be stoned to death.  There were many reasons for the followers of Jesus to keep a low profile and off the radar screens of both the religious and imperial authorities.

            But all this changes on Pentecost.  Peter dares to come out of hiding and to proclaim the message of the resurrection to those who are gathered in Jerusalem.  From that day forth there is no more concealment.  Tradition tells us that from that day on, the followers of Jesus spread out throughout the Mediterranean world to share the mystery of faith:  Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.

 

Courage is still needed.

            Courage, my friends, is not the absence of fear or concern.  It is not brashness or heedless of the risks.  Courage is the choice to act on our convictions – despite our fears and despite the risks.  I dare say that courage is still needed among the followers of Jesus, even in Canada.  That courage is needed in particular to confront the distortions of the message of the gospel that masquerade as Christian faith, but are really the worse angels of human nature cloaked in religious rhetoric and regalia.

            We know that goodness is stronger than evil, but it takes courage to be good when we are amid a sea of evils.  We know that love is stronger than hate, but it takes courage to love when we are afraid of the future and hate of the ‘other’ or ‘change’ or whatever other scapegoat lures us.  We know that light is stronger than darkness, but it takes courage to add our one small light when darkness seems so powerful and immense.  We know that life is stronger than death, but it takes courage to live boldly as the body of Christ when we are assaulted by the news of how death stalks our planet.

            It takes courage to be a follower of the way of Jesus in a neighbourhood where we seem to be invisible and irrelevant.  It takes courage to proclaim the truth of Jesus is a world where that truth has been distorted by those who claim to be its strongest advocates.  It takes courage to risk the life of Jesus when there are voices that whisper that love of neighbour rather than love of self ought to be the priority.

            But, my friends, two thousand years ago a small community of Jewish women and men were given the gift of courage.  They gave birth to a movement that is world-wide and world-changing, something that was infinitely more than they could ask or imagine.  For two thousand years women, men and children have embraced the responsibility to bear witness to the way, the truth and the life of Jesus, despite the temptations to pack it in and hide away.  All this was accomplished because of the one gift of the Spirit that matters more than any other:  the gift of courage, the gift to shy people such as we to get up and do what needs to be done.

            And that gift is ours – today and in all the days to come.

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[i] Numbers 11.24-30; Psalm 104.24-34, 35c (NRSVue); Acts 2.1-21; John 7.37-39.

 

It's Up to You Now: Reflections on the Ascension

 RCL Ascension [i]

17 May 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

            In the summer of 1968, I was hired for my first real job.  Two of my grade 9 teachers had a fireworks business that they ran in the months before the 4^th of July as a means of bolstering their teaching salaries.  They always hired students and these jobs were highly sought after – a side benefit was a generous supply of free fireworks.

 

            One of the teachers, Mr Kordula, taught woodworking and had designed a prefabricated road-side stand.  We set up a number of these stands along major roads – usually near a gas station so that we had access to a bathroom.  Since this was my first summer, I spent a week or so working with an older student who had worked for Mr Kordula and Mr Knox for two previous summers.  I learned a lot about how to keep accurate sales records and inventory as well as how to chat people up when they came to buy.

 

            On the first day of my second week, Mr Knox drove some other students and me to our assigned stands.  I got out and waited for someone else to join me.  Mr Knox asked me if I had plenty of water, my lunch and the cash box.  I said, ‘Yes’, and he said, ‘Great, I’ll see you around 5.00’ and drove off.  There I was, fifteen years old, with $100 in petty cash and change – the equivalent of $1000 today, in charge of my little stand on Nevada Avenue.  I admit that I was a bit worried and uncertain, but I really had no choice but to open up and get to work.

 

            I looked up to Mr Kordula and Mr Knox; all of us looked up to them.  It was great to work with them.  I felt safe when I was working with them.  What I hadn’t realized is that they were going to reward my trust in them with their trust in me.  On that day Mr Knox said without saying it, ‘It’s up to you now, Richard.’  Tuum est.

 

            Next week we will celebrate Pentecost, a festival that is often called the ‘birthday’ of the Church.  I actually think that Ascension, the festival we are keeping today, is the real ‘birthday’ of the Church.  It’s on this day that Jesus drops us off on a busy street we call ‘the world’, hands over to us the keys to the stand and drives off with a wave and a smile and breezy ‘Tuum est. – It’s up to you now.’

 

            Let’s put ourselves on that hilltop outside Jerusalem two thousand years ago.  According to Luke the evangelist, Jesus has spent forty days with the apostolic community.  Throughout those forty days, Jesus makes no public appearances; he just spends time with the women and men who are part of his community.  Someone might want to ask why Jesus didn’t go to the front door of the high priest’s home, knock on it and say, ‘Here I am.  What do you have to say now?’  But, as Luke tells the story, Jesus doesn’t.  I think that there is a simple reason:  the message of the good news of God in Jesus is one that is meant to be shared by human beings.

 

            In contrast to the celebrity culture that has pervaded human society from the very beginning, the culture of the gospel is wonderfully ordinary.  When we think about the early days of the Christian movement, we may want to focus on characters such as Paul, Peter, Barnabas and the like.  But the real foundation of the Christian movement was laid by the people who waved goodbye to Paul, Peter, Barnabas and the like as they left town.  These ordinary people were responsible for living a Christ-like life in Philippi and Thessalonica and Ephesus and all the other places around the Mediterranean Sea and even as far as the southwestern coast of India.  They were the ones who invited their neighbours to become part of this movement; they were the ones who sometimes paid the ultimate price for loving God and loving neighbour after the way of Christ.

 

            In every generation we have had saints and teachers, mentors and even celebrities, who could have become gravity wells that drew all the attention to themselves.  For the most part, they have not.  They have come into our midst, offered their wisdom and then, with a wave and a smile, went on their way with a cheerful ‘Tuum est.’  ‘It’s up to you now.’

 

            Here at Saint Helen’s, we have experienced both the joys and the sorrows of leadership that builds up the community and leadership that comes to an abrupt and troubling end.  If we were to buy into the celebrity and ‘influencer’ culture of our times, then we might well and truly be hooped.  But that is not who we are nor is it the culture of the good news.  The good news is that celebrities and influencers come and go, some for the better, some for the worse, but the beloved community for whom Christ lived and died always rises again, just as our Lord was raised.  We rise and accept the challenge made to every generation, ‘Tuum est.’  ‘It’s up to you now.’

 

            But to do this, we need the gift of the Spirit, the Advocate, the Comforter, the Counsellor, the Companion.  What I think the gift that the Spirit brings us – well, come next week and I’ll share those thoughts with you.

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[i] Daniel 7.9-14; Psalm 24.7-10 (BAS); Acts 1.1-11; John 17.1-11 (alternative Hebrew Scripture reading and Psalm with Easter 7A Gospel).