Saturday, September 26, 2026

Making Room: Reflections on Philippians 2.1-13

 

RCL Proper 26A [i]

27 September 2026

 

Holy Trinity Anglican Church

White Rock BC

 

Running out of room

            At some point in the spring of 1991, Paula and I came to realize the truth of an old familiar saying:  Two’s company, three’s a crowd.  This realization came as a result of the birth of our third child in October 1990.  We’d managed to squeeze two car seats and one booster seat in the back seat of our Subaru station wagon for a few months, but by the spring of 1991, the writing was on the wall.  So we traded in our Subaru and bought a new Dodge Voyager van.

 

            As the kids grew, we became happier and happier with our purchase.  We didn’t have to put up with too many backseat turf wars.  Each child, regardless of age, had their own space with a buffer zone either between them or beside them.  Many family trips and holidays were saved by the extra space.

 

Making room for each other

            We all need space to grow.  But it is not enough to claim space; someone has to make space for us.  If no one makes space for us, then we can easily decide to do more than complain that we don’t have enough room.  How many conflicts in human history have been caused by the refusal to make space for someone else or by someone making unreasonable demands for more space at the expense of someone else?  How often in human history has one community welcomed another only to have those newly-welcomed ones want more and more space?  And how often in human history has a community denied room to another for reasons of national identity or social cohesion or simple racism?

 

            Over the span of millennia we human beings have struggled to make room for each other and to be grateful for the space for growth and well-being we have.  This struggle to make room for others and to be grateful for what we have is addressed by Paul in the passage from his letter to the Christians in Philippi that we heard this morning.  It’s clear that there is conflict in this community and part of the cause is the refusal to give one another proper space to grow and thrive:  

 

Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. [ii]

 

Implicit in the last verse is this:  If everyone looks out for each other, no one will be neglected.  There will be enough for all.  If you watch someone else’s back, then they will watch yours.

 

            Paul then writes words which many of us immediately recognize and which have inspired many hymns.  Indeed, many biblical scholars think that Paul is quoting a hymn known by the Philippians already.  It is a hymn that celebrates Christ’s free choice to make room for humanity by setting aside the privileges of divinity.  Being Christ-like, Paul reminds the Philippians, is willingly setting aside privilege, power, rights and authority that one may have by virtue of age, gender, length of association, power or authority.  Christ gives us an example by emptying himself of all these prerogatives and suffering death, so that we might share in that divine life he has so freely set aside.

 

            There is a special word for this – kenōsis.  Kenōsis or self-emptying love is a defining quality of the God in whom we live and love and have our being.  The universe we inhabit exists not because God had to create it, but because God chose to make room “ . . . for the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home . . . (and from) the primal element . . . (to bring forth) the human race”. [iii]

 

Welcoming the other

            How we make room for others, how we welcome others into that space we call our personal lives, is an embodiment of that divine self-emptying love made known to us in Jesus of Nazareth and that is our baptismal birthright, our identity as creatures made in the likeness of God and empowered by the Spirit to live into the likeness of Christ.

 

            Making room for others, no matter how we define ‘the other’ is not beyond our abilities.  Despite the many voices raised in our times who seek to limit how wide we draw the circle of God’s all-embracing love, there is another voice, a more compelling voice, that rises above them and speaks more clearly and convincingly.  It is the voice of the One who spoke to tax collectors and prostitutes, to women and men in need of healing, to thieves and soldiers, bidding them all welcome to the table of God’s banquet.  It is the voice of the One “who is at work in (us), enabling (us) both to will and to work for (God’s) good pleasure”. [iv]

 

            You see, long before we ever thought of it, God created a van, named it ‘creation’ and made sure that there was room for all of God’s beloved, every single lovable and unlovable one, every single familiar and unfamiliar one, room enough for all with room to spare.     



[i] Exodus 17.1-7; Psalm 78.1-4, 12-16 (BAS); Philippians 2.1-13; Matthew 21.23-32.

 

[ii] Philippians 2.3-4 (NRSVue).

 

[iii] Eucharistic Prayer 4 in The Book of Alternative Services (1985), 201.

 

[iv] Philippians 2.14 (NRSVue).

 

Saturday, September 12, 2026

What Does It Mean? Reflections on Exodus and Matthew

RCL Proper 24A [i]

13 September 2026

 

Holy Trinity Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

 

Teasing out the meaning

         In January 2012 I was part of a group of Jewish and Christian clergy who travelled to Israel and the West Bank.  Our journey was something more than a shared journey to sites that had meaning for both our traditions.  We were also learning how our traditions read and interpreted our Scriptures.

 

         One of our stops was to a yeshiva, a Jewish theological school, located northwest of Jerusalem.  As we approached the main classroom, I noticed that there was a kind of buzzing sound.  When the doors opened, the source of the sound became clear.  It was the sound of more than a hundred students who were studying the Torah, the first five books of the Bible.

 

         The students were seated in pairs at small tables, each table stacked with a number of books.  At the centre of the table was an open Bible and each pair was engaged in a vigorous discussion of an assigned text.  Once and a while, one or the other would open one of the other books, commentaries on the Scriptures, to illustrate a point or to dig more deeply into the text.  The professors would roam the room, pausing at a table to listen to the discussion and occasionally to intervene with a word of wisdom or direction.

 

         I learned that in the Jewish tradition it is essential that each text is seen as a mother lode of meaning.  No matter how obvious a text may seem, no matter how obscure or irrelevant a text may seem, it is the job of the faithful reader to dig into that mother lode to explore the possible meanings.  And, just as it is essential to dig, it is essential in the Jewish tradition to have a partner or two with whom to work.  That partner might push us to consider an alternative or challenge our interpretation.

 

When did the waters part?

         One of the ways that Jewish teachers have dug into the meaning of the scriptures is by telling stories that expand upon the text.  These stories are called midrash, a word that comes from the Hebrew meaning ‘to search out’ or ‘to inquire’.  Midrash is a way of interpreting a text to explore its deeper ethical, legal or spiritual meanings beyond the literal text itself.  Midrash is not meant to replace the text, but to be used as a means of waking our spiritual imaginations to consider the possible meanings a text may have for how we live our lives.

 

         One of my favourite midrash is connected with the story of the parting of the Red Sea, our first reading this morning, and asks, ‘When did the waters of the sea part?’  The hero of the story is Nachshon, an ancestor of David.  Imagine for a moment the people of Israel on the shores of the sea.  They can see the dust cloud of the pursuing Egyptians and they can hear Moses tell them that God will part the waters – but nothing is happening.  Moses is encouraging them and the Egyptians are drawing closer each minute, but the waters remain an obstacle.

 

         From out of the crowd steps Nachson, a leader of the tribe of Judah.  He steps into the waters, but they do not part.  He walks further out into the waters, but they still do not part.  He continues to walk until the waters rise above his nose, and then – the waters part and Nachshon leads the people across the dry seabed and to safety.

 

         This midrash reminds us that trusting in God does not release us from the responsibility to act.  If we pray for God to relieve the needs of the poor and hungry, then we act, trusting that God will supply our needs as we reach out.  If we pray for justice and reconciliation, then we act, trusting that God will guide us as we go out as blessed peacemakers and ambassadors of reconciliation.  We may find ourselves ‘up to our noses’ in challenges, but it is such moments that God’s grace breaks into our lives.

 

How many times?

         In today’s parable Jesus gives us an example of midrash.  Peter asks a simple question, how many times should I forgive someone.  We know from other sources that Jewish tradition at the time suggested three times. [ii]  Peter goes even further in suggesting seven times.  Jesus does Peter ten times more – seventy-seven times!  To illustrate his interpretation of the tradition, Jesus tells Peter and the others the parable we heard.

 

         We are reminded of that petition in the Lord’s Prayer that I consider one of the most difficult prayers we ever offer:  “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Have you ever noticed that we are asking God to measure out forgiveness of our sins in the same balance as we forgive the sins of others?  I know my own shortcomings as a person of forgiveness, so each time I pray the Lord’s Prayer I am reminded of all those times that I have failed to forgive. 

 

         The forgiven but unforgiving servant was unwilling to walk into those waters.  Having managed to save his own neck, he shows that he has learned nothing, that he is unwilling to live into a new future where forgiveness rather than pay back is the guiding light.

 

         Today’s parable builds upon last week’s reading about seeking reconciliation in the midst of conflict.  I want to be clear about something.  Forgiveness is not forgetting.  Forgiveness is not about pretending that nothing ever happened and that nothing has changed in our relationships.  Forgiveness is taking the risk to walk into the waters of conflict in order to seek a new path towards God’s future for us and for those with whom we are in conflict.  We decide to trust God to lead us into a shared but different future than we might have had.

 

Up to our noses

         These days I sometimes feel that being a person of faith is like being up to my nose in troubled waters.  Perhaps you feel that way sometimes as well.  But the story of Nachshon reminds us that God is at work even when the waters seem close to overwhelming us.  The parable of the unforgiving servant reminds us that forgiveness can be the beginning of a path towards God’s future even if that path is not entirely clear.

 

         Some time ago I became acquainted with a prayer from the Lutheran tradition.  I return to it time and time again in times such as ours.  I close with it today.

 

O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the endings, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.  Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.[iii]



[i] Exodus 14.19-31; Psalm 114 or Exodus 15.1b-11, 20-21 (BAS Canticle 1); Romans 14.1-12; Matthew 18.21-35.

 

[ii] Comment on Matthew 18.21 in The Jewish Annotated New Testament (2011).

 

[iii] ELW 2006, 317.