Saturday, January 25, 2025

Political But not Partisan: Reflections for the 3rd Sunday after Epiphany


Political But not Partisan

Reflections for the 3rd Sunday after Epiphany

 

RCL Epiphany 3C

26 January 2026

 

Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         On the Feast of Saint Thomas, the 21st of December 1981, a snowy Monday night, Bishop William Frey of Colorado presided at my ordination to the priesthood in the Cathedral of Saint John in the Wilderness in Denver, Colorado.  Before asking me to make certain commitments and promises, Bishop Frey spoke these words to me:

 

As a priest, it will be your task to proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to fashion your life in accordance with its precepts.  You are to love and serve the people among whom you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor. . . . It all that you do, you are to nourish Christ’s people from the riches of his grace, and strengthen them to glorify God in this life and in the life to come. (BCP 1979, 531)

 

With these and other words and actions, Bishop Frey entrusted to me a political ministry.

 

         By a political ministry, I do not mean a partisan ministry.  The word ‘political’ comes from the Greek word polis which means ‘city or state or community’.  To be political means that one takes responsibility for working for the good of the entire community, “young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor”.  To be political means committing oneself to the work of the common good of every human being.  To be political does not mean not to have opinions about how best to achieve the common good, but it does mean that one must be prepared to listen to diverse voices and, perhaps more importantly, to be willing to acknowledge two things:  (i) that no one voice or opinion possesses all the truth and wisdom necessary for the good of all and (ii) that I, along with my ‘circle’, might be wrong.

 

         When you and I were baptized into the Christian community, we were baptized into a political movement whose commitment is to serve those who are not Christians as well as those who are and to serve those whose views are not necessarily ours as well as to work with those who share our views and values.  We renew our commitment to this political movement each time we renew our baptismal covenant, as we did, for example, when Archbishop John was with us on the Feast of the Epiphany. 

 

·      To promise to persevere in resisting evil and, when we fall into sin, to repent and return to the Lord is a political choice.

·      To promise to proclaim the good news of God in Christ, a message that challenges those who have power, is a political choice.

·      To promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbour as ourselves, is a political choice.

·      To promise to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being, is a political choice.  (BAS 1985, 159)

 

How we fulfill these promises does involve hearing diverse voices and differing approaches.  We will disagree, sometimes mildly, sometimes forcefully, but we dare not pretend that we are not engaged in working with God “so that we and all God’s children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise (God’s) name” (BAS 1985 215).

 

         When Nehemiah and Ezra gathered the people to hear the reading from the Law of Moses, they made some political choices that may not be apparent.  Because they were committed to the renewal of the people of Israel after more than seventy years of exile and oppression, Nehemiah and Ezra chose to read the Law in a public place where there no obstacles to the participation of every single person present in the city of Jerusalem.  Nehemiah and Ezra chose to ensure that there were people in the crowd who could translate the Law from Hebrew, a language many people did not speak, into Aramaic, a language they could speak.  Nehemiah and Ezra knew that the common good required a restoration of a shared knowledge of the traditions and aspirations of the people.

 

         When Paul wrote to the Christian community in Corinth, he chose to confront the partisanship that had begun to emerge and that was dividing the community.  People were beginning to identify themselves as followers of Paul, others as followers of another evangelist by the name of Apollos, still others were claiming to be directly inspired by Christ.  When Paul uses the image of the body, he is making a political choice.  When one part of the body thinks itself superior to another, then the common good, the health of the whole body, is threatened.  Paul reminds the Corinthians that they are mutually dependent upon one another.  Despite their pride and arrogance, they all need one another or, as Paul so clearly puts it:  “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if once member is honoured, all rejoice together with it.” (1 Corinthians 12.26)

 

         When Jesus enters the synagogue at Nazareth and is handed the scroll to read, he does not choose the text from Isaiah.  It is simply the text assigned for that day.  But he does turn the moment into a political one by declaring that the promises that Isaiah is making about the future are, in fact, a present reality.

 

“The ‘someday’ of hope is now the ‘today’ of fulfillment (v. 21).  For Luke’s church and for us, it is still ‘today,’ and preaching that turns ‘today’ into another vague and distant ‘someday’ has not listened carefully to the text.” (Craddock, Preaching Through the Christian Year:  Year C  1993, 88)

 

If we are not releasing people today from whatever is holding them captive, then we are failing in our vocation as followers of Christ.  How we bring about that release is always a lively debate and there are good people who disagree on what steps to take, but taking steps in the here and now cannot be put off until some abstract future moment.

 

         This past week we have witnessed the contrast between politics as a commitment to the well-being of the whole community and to listening to diverse voices and partisanship as the use of power to coerce others without regard to questions of justice, loving-kindness and humility.  The story is told that, when the warrant for the execution of King Charles 1 was being signed, one of the members of Parliament said to Oliver Cromwell, the leader of the anti-monarchist party, ‘I beseech you, Sir, by the bowels of Christ, to consider that you might be wrong.’

 

         So, my friends, have no illusions.  Being a Christian means being political.  As Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said, “When people say that religion and politics don’t mix, I wonder which Bible it is they are reading.”  But we must be on guard at all times that we do not confuse our political vocation with partisan advocacy at the expense of others.  

 

Partisanship always looks for opponents to be defeated; politics always looks for people of differing perspectives to be united in a common work for the common good.  Partisanship embraces coercion; politics embraces persuasion.  Partisanship uses fear as its main weapon; politics uses hope as its main message.  Partisanship lives in a closed sound chamber; politics encourages the voices of all, young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor.

 

On Wednesday, the Bishop of Washington acknowledged the authority of the current President but also asked him to consider that he might be wrong.  That is not partisanship; that was the political ministry to which we have been all baptized and the political ministry to which the Bishop had been ordained.  May God grant us the grace never to back away from this ministry.

Saturday, January 18, 2025

When the Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary: Reflections for the 2nd Sunday after Epiphany

 

 

RCL Epiphany 2C

19 January 2025

 

Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         For the first ten years of our life in Canada my family attended St Anselm’s on the University Endowment Lands.  When our older son, David, was about four or five, the Parish decided to change the brand of communion wine we had been using.  So, for a period of a month or so, we used a different brand of wine every Sunday.

 

         It was David who brought the wine-tasting to an end.  He went up for communion as he always did, received the bread and then the wine.  After he received the wine, he turned to face the congregation, wiped his hand across his lips and, in a very loud voice, announced, ‘That was great!’  David, having pronounced judgement, we had a new wine for the eucharist.

 

         I couldn’t help but think of this story when I read the gospel for today.  It is a familiar story to all of us.  It even ends in a similar way to St Anselm’s search for new communion wine:  “When the person in charge tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), that person called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk.  But you have kept the good wine until now.” (John 2.9-10 NRSVue). 

 

The good wine comes when the guests least expect it.  Ordinary first-century wedding catering practice is turned upside down, and the extraordinary wine comes at the end rather than at the beginning.

 

         In the religious traditions of the Celtic peoples of Britain and Ireland there is a concept called ‘thin places’.  ‘Thin places’ are moments in time or locations where our ordinary world touches the extraordinary world that exists just beyond our senses.  We can sense the presence of the extraordinary and we are drawn to it.

 

         But these extraordinary moments and places are firmly rooted in the ordinary.  We see a child rejoicing in the taste of good wine and unexpectedly find ourselves sitting with Jesus at a wedding feast in Cana of Galilee.  We hear someone reading a familiar biblical text and unexpectedly discover ourselves sitting near a loved one telling us a family story.  We see a stranger in a shopping mall whose clothing and way of walking remind us of a loved one who has died and unexpectedly that loved one joins us for a brief moment.

 

         Thin places are the work of the Holy Spirit.  This work of the Spirit is not unusual.  The Spirit is constantly at work in the ordinary moments and places of our lives, filling these moments and places with the potential to be encounters with the extraordinary beauty of the world as God desires it to be.

 

         What the Spirit does with the moments and places of our lives, the Spirit also does with people, including ourselves.  Paul knows this when he writes to the Christian community in Corinth.  He encourages them to recognize in the gifts each one brings to the life of the community the work of the Holy Spirit.  All of these ‘ordinary’ signs of God’s activity in their midst are also signs of the ‘extraordinary’ reality of our unity as human beings made in God’s image.  For Paul the Christian community is a ‘thin place’ where God reveals one of the mysteries of faith – that we are all mutually interdependent and that diversity is not a curse but a gift that nurtures and enriches human life.

 

         For Paul an important dimension of his ministry is to open the eyes of the disciples of Jesus – both those to whom he is writing and to us who hear his words today – “I do not want you to be ignorant”, he writes (1 Corinthians 12.1b NRSVue).  It is possible to fail to recognize when God’s ‘extraordinary’ draws near to our ‘ordinary’ moments and places, when God’s very self comes to us in the face and form of a familiar person or even a stranger.  When we “are wearied by the changes and chances of this life” (BAS 132), our senses become dulled, and thin places seem far and few.  But they have not disappeared; they are only obscured when our “dull senses” are not looking for the light that the Spirit of God is continually beaming upon us (Common Praise #637, v. 4). 

 

         My friends, all around us the ordinary waters of our daily lives hold within them the extraordinary wine of the reign of God.  Even five-year-old children can sense its presence.  May we be open to the quickening of the Spirit, so that we can drink deeply and find renewal, hope and the courage to persevere.

 

Saturday, January 11, 2025

Do You Love Me? Reflections on the Baptism of Christ

 


Do You Love Me?

Reflections on the Baptism of Christ

 

RCL Baptism of Christ C

12 January 2025

 

Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         As I was preparing for today’s sermon, I had an idea for a book title – The Gospel according to Broadway.  When I was growing up, Broadway musicals were a regular feature of the music life of my family.  Paula and I brought a shared loved of musicals into our own family life.  Just get our three children together and, with the right incentive, you’ll get a performance of Cats or A Muppets’ Christmas Carol staged right in front of you.

 

         One of my favourite musicals is The Fiddler on the Roof.  It tells the story of Anatevka, a Jewish village in Czarist Russia before the upheavals of World War I and the Communist Revolution of 1917.  Despite its setting, the themes of the musical touch on things that are not so foreign to us:

·      religious persecution of minorities,

·      ethnic cleansing,

·      political repression and violence,

·      social and economic inequality,

·      the tension between tradition and modernity.

 

         Early in the musical Tevya, the lead character, a poor, hard-working milkman, struggles with his eldest daughter’s refusal to agree to the marriage he has arranged with one of the wealthiest men in the village, the local butcher.  She loves a poor but enterprising tailor whom she has known since childhood, and, in a rejection of tradition, they have pledged themselves to each other.

 

         Tevya doesn’t understand this.  His own marriage was arranged by his parents and his wife’s parents twenty-five years ago.  For twenty-five years they have had children together, struggled to make a life for themselves, met the expectations of their community.  Love played no part in the matter.

 

         Faced with his daughter’s refusal and the potential scandal it will cause, Tevya is at a loss.  He turns to his wife and asks her, ‘Do you love me?’  She is as startled by the question as Tevya.  She responds by giving a summary of all that she has done for him, all that she has suffered for him, all that people of expected of her as a wife and mother.  But, by the end of the duet, she and Tevya agree that they do love one another.  They sing, ‘It doesn’t change a thing, but after twenty-five years, it’s nice to know.’

 

         Every human being needs to hear the words, ‘I love you’, spoken by someone who knows us as we are, who knows our strengths and our weaknesses, who cares for our very being.  We want to hear the words spoken by someone who is actively seeking to nurture us so that we can become who we are truly meant to be and who is willing to speak hard truths to us when we need to hear the truth.

 

         Without such an affirmation it is difficult, if not downright impossible, to navigate the rapids of the river of life.  If we do not know that we are loved, we may lose the incentive to venture into paths unknown and choose to remain firmly in ‘the straight and narrow’ of the status quo.  If we do not know that we are loved, it is not easy to love anyone else.  The writer of 1 John writes to his community, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. . . . There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.  We love because [God] first loved us.” (1 John 4.16b, 18-19 NRSVue)

 

         Even Jesus needs this affirmation.  As I read today’s gospel, I was struck by a simple observation.  When Jesus shows up and joins the crowd coming to be baptized by his cousin John for the forgiveness of sin, Jesus hasn’t actually done anything significant.  It’s true that in Luke’s gospel we learn about several episodes in his childhood, but Jesus hasn’t done anything noteworthy.  But here, at the river, God speaks these words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3.22b)

 

         With this affirmation Jesus embarks on his three-year mission that will transform the world forever.  With this affirmation Jesus faces the testing in the desert and emerges victorious.  With this affirmation Jesus proclaims God’s kingdom to sympathetic and unsympathetic crowds from north to south, from west to east.  With this affirmation Jesus faces that lonely night in the garden and chooses to follow the path that will lead to his trial, condemnation and execution.

 

         My friends, I think that there are many people in the world today, some of whom are even members of the Church, who do not believe that God loves us.  I cannot deny that there are many reasons why it is difficult to believe this – wars, injustice, poverty, inequality – the list of obstacles to belief in God’s love is lengthy.  And so we go about ‘looking for love in all the wrong places’ [1]  We look for love in the ownership of possessions, in the search for power of one form or another, for physical gratification – a list at least as long as the list of obstacles to belief in God’ love for us.  But what we’re all looking for is to be found in the life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth.

 

         What Jesus has taught us is that knowing we are love empowers us to build life-giving communities that are unafraid to confront the powers that deny the dignity and full humanity of every child of God.  What Jesus has taught us is that knowing we are loved empowers us to love our neighbours as we love ourselves regardless of where they come from, when they became our neighbours or which faith they profess.  What Jesus has taught us is that knowing we are loved empowers us to take responsibility for our failures as well as our successes and to live a life of gratitude that safeguards the integrity of God’s creation and works to respect, sustain and renew the life of ‘this fragile earth, our island home’.

 

         We begin this civil new year of 2025 with a variety of emotions, concerns and uncertainties.  Some of these are the product of political and economic forces at work in Canada and beyond.  Others are the natural emotions that accompany times of transition and change.  All can become overwhelming and lead us to be motivated by our fears rather than our hopes and values.  But on this day when we remember the baptism of Christ in the river Jordan, we receive the antidote to such fears and to believing that we are powerless to act.  It’s an antidote that like flu and COVID vaccines we need to receive more than once.  The antidote God offers us is the same that he offered to Jesus when he joined the crowd and walked into the water:  ‘People of the Church of the Epiphany, people everywhere, you are my children, the Beloved; in you I am well pleased.  Let my perfect love cast away any fear that may seek to take hold of you.  I am with you until the ending of the worlds.’



[1] ‘Looking for Love’ is a song written by Wanda Mallette, Bob Morrison and Patti Ryan.  It was released in June 1980 and recorded by Johnny Lee.  See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lookin%27_for_Love#:~:text=%22Lookin'%20for%20Love%22%20is,Urban%20Cowboy%2C%20released%20that%20yearaccessed on 11 January 2025.

 


Monday, January 6, 2025

Don't Let the Light Go Out!

 There are songs that remind us of what we are meant to be and to do.  This is one of them.  I have chosen it to be my theme song as we begin this year of 2025 and beyond.

… Light one candle for the Maccabee children
With thanks that their light didn't die
Light one candle for the pain they endured
When their right to exist was denied
Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice
Justice and freedom demand
But light one candle for the wisdom to know
When the peacemaker's time is at hand 
… Don't let the light go out!
It's lasted for so many years!
Don't let the light go out!
Let it shine through our hope and our tears. (2) 
… Light one candle for the strength that we need
To never become our own foe
And light one candle for those who are suffering
Pain we learned so long ago
Light one candle for all we believe in
That anger not tear us apart
And light one candle to find us together
With peace as the song in our hearts 
… Don't let the light go out!
It's lasted for so many years!
Don't let the light go out!
Let it shine through our hope and our tears. (2) 
… What is the memory that's valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What's the commitment to those who have died
That we cry out they've not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
This is why we will not fail! 
… Don't let the light go out!
Don't let the light go out!
Don't let the light go out!