Yr C ~ Easter 4 ~ Acts 9:36-43

We’re in a sermon series called “That Changes Everything”. Last week we met a wonderfully faithful fellow named Ananias who was called to the unlikely ministry of praying with the worst person imaginable, and helping to change that person’s life by introducing them to The Way of Jesus, and helping to nurture and form them in Christian community. That ‘worst person ever’ had a personal awakening, but it was thanks to the faithfulness of Ananias that that awakening was able to grow and flourish. So, was it the awakening that changed everything, or the prayerful nurturing? Yes! Both!

Today we get to meet another wonderful disciple of Jesus whose faithful living and loving changed everything for many people. Her name is Tabitha, or Dorcas (I’ll explain in a minute). If you’re starting to think that maybe the thing that changes everything isn’t a mysterious spiritual miracle, but the faithfulness of followers of Jesus – well, spoiler alert – you’re right! Maybe the best miracles aren’t inexplicable supernatural occurrences but rather profound movements of the Spirit that inspire regular folks, like you and me, to live out the courage of our convictions, to ‘live out loud’ the love of God. Miracles like that really can ‘change everything’! So let’s meet another one of God’s miracles, and see how she might inspire us.

As I said, she is named Tabitha, and Dorcas. Why the two names? It’s probably because of where she lived, and it actually speaks volumes. She lived in a place called Joppa, which is known now as Tel-Aviv. It’s a port town – which means it’s a place where many people, and many cultures, intersect. Tabitha is her Hebrew name, and Dorcas is her Greek name. Referring to her by both, interchangeably, suggests she was known in and by both communities. That’s quite remarkable, especially for a woman in their time to be named as such.

What might be even more remarkable, however, is that she’s also referred to as a disciple of The Way of Jesus. In fact, she is the only female person in the entire New Testament who explicitly gets that label. Many women are associated with Jesus, or the Way, and many, many were no doubt practicing disciples in every sense of the word. Absolutely! But for some reason Tabitha is the only one called a mathetria, the feminine form of mathetai which is the male version of ‘disciple’ which is used extensively. The writer of Luke and Acts has done a pretty extraordinary thing here. In a profoundly patriarchal world they’ve championed feminism. Women were critically important to the Jesus movement. It’s shameful that the early church lost that focus. (Well, they more likely buried it, you know, because patriarchy.)

In their respective languages ‘Tabitha’ and ‘Dorcas’ both mean the same thing: gazelle, or more descriptively, an animal with large bright eyes! What a beautiful description of a disciple of Jesus – a person with large bright eyes – a person who can perceive the Kingdom of God, and love it out. She is also described as a disciple who was ‘continually’ ministering to people. She was a seamstress, which suggests she was self-sufficient (employed, perhaps somewhat wealthy) – and as someone who shares her resources she must’ve had some resources to share! She was clearly an extraordinary and beloved woman. There is no mention of a husband or family in the text, so it’s fair to assume Tabitha/Dorcas was a widow – and this helps to explain much of the passage. By the way, we’re still in the first verse of the story! We get all that context from one verse!

As I prepared for this sermon I started to refer to this passage as one of missed opportunities – not in the action of the story, but in the translation. As the story goes, Tabitha dies and was washed and laid out for honouring in a “room upstairs” – but that is the exact same as saying “an upper room”! Room upstairs doesn’t mean much – but “an upper room” has all sorts of energy for us. The translators missed an opportunity to honour her by connecting her to Jesus. Luke didn’t – Luke used the same word – the translators blew it.

Being a woman who was held in such high regard, upon her death some other disciples from the church at Joppa were sent to find the apostle Peter who was in a nearby town. They implore Peter to come to see her. Why do you think that was? What did they hope to accomplish? read on →

Yr C ~ Easter 3 ~ Acts 9:1-20

Picture it. It’s 36 CE (or thereabouts) roughly 3 years after the time of Jesus’ death and resurrection. A man named Saul is on the warpath. He is a zealous man, intent on wiping out the upstart movement that had become known as ‘The Way’. In Saul’s mind this movement was heretical, blasphemous even. They followed a person Saul thought to be a false Messiah – a rabble-rouser named Jesus of Nazareth, who his followers believed had died on a cross and then was mysteriously raised up. Saul had obtained warrants allowing him to arrest any man or woman he found that was a follower of The Way of Jesus. He was travelling north from Jerusalem toward Damascus when our story for today picks up.

I’m going to circle back to the start of this later and do some poking at it, but for now I want to treat the story as a broad archetype. By that I mean to see it as a pattern, or a pathway from ‘not’ being a person of the Way of Jesus to being one.

Acts 9:3 says – Now as Saul was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.

Saul was on a certain path, and then in the midst of that he had an experience that changed everything. The story speaks of a light flashing. Perhaps it was an actual visual thing like a bolt of lightning, but it doesn’t have to be. Perhaps it’s nothing more (and nothing less) than the dazzling brightness of a new thought dawning on you. When awareness comes it can feel like the whole world exploding in your brain and shattering some of the things you used to think were real and true. I suspect for most people that sense of awareness creeps up on you and emerges stealthily over time rather than being a lightning bolt – but I ain’t saying lightning doesn’t strike!

Something happened to Saul on that road trip from Jerusalem to Damascus. Something that made him stop in his tracks and re-examine his life. Earlier than Luke’s writing (Luke wrote both Luke/Acts), in the book of Galatians, Paul (Saul’s new name) writes about this Damascus Road experience himself, but it’s much more vague. Luke, as always, likes to give lots of details in his storytelling.

In Luke’s telling Saul has a conversation with the Spirit of the Risen Jesus. He doesn’t see Jesus – he just hears his voice – and Jesus is disappointed. Acts 9:4 “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

Notice that the voice doesn’t say, “Why do you persecute my followers?” Jesus makes it personal. Paul replies with a “who are you?” And the answer came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.”

Saul’s fellow travellers apparently heard the voice, but saw no one. And, as we all know this story so well, Saul got up and even though his eyes were open he couldn’t see – which, frankly, describes a lot of people! And then we get the key line – Acts 9:9 For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.
Gee, I wonder what that’s supposed to make us think of?
Three days in the dark and not eating or drinking. And then he awakens and emerges into a new life.
Obviously this is an Easter reference! Saul has to die to what was so he can be reborn into what will be – into God’s loving Way.

Then the story shifts to one of my favourite biblical characters – Ananias. Ananias was a disciple of The Way in Damascus. Out of nowhere he experiences a vision of Jesus who tells him he must go and find Saul, and pray with him, and lay hands on Saul so that he might regain his sight. First of all, Ananias is a very faithful man, and his first response was “Here I am, Lord.” That is until he heard who he was supposed to go and pray with. Saul wasn’t just some guy. He was well known to the people of the Way. Saul was public enemy number one in their minds. Imagine the worst person you can – Hitler, Putin, the list goes on – now imagine that Jesus tells you you’re supposed to go and make nice with them and pray with them. So Ananias says, “Say what now? Him? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. He’s the worst!” But in this vision Jesus persists and explains that Saul will actually become a great leader and preacher championing The Way.

I really feel for Ananias. I can only imagine how conflicted he must have been. But, being a faithful man, off he goes to pray with Saul.
Acts 9:17-18 So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored.

Let’s pause here and think about Saul’s journey. He had a stop-in-your-tracks enlightening experience, he endured a symbolic dying and was ‘in the tomb’ for 3 days, and now, upon receiving prayer, and the laying on of hands, he becomes filled with the Holy Spirit. Can you see the pattern? An awakening of some sort stopped his former path, he died to that former path and spent some time in the darkness of unknowing (maybe it was like a wilderness time), and then he receives prayer and healing through the faithfulness of a mature person of faith, and it brings him out of his tomb and into the light of Christ.

After such a blessing, after such a gift of renewed life, his very first response, his first action, is to be baptized. Baptism is an act of surrender, an act of trust (especially if you’re doing the immersion kind), and an act of initiation, of becoming one of the People of the Way of Jesus. Saul’s second response was to spend several days with the disciples in Damascus, eating, regaining his strength, learning from them, experiencing their vibe, discovering what this renewed life kinda looked like. I think this time of Saul’s being among the disciples is severely overlooked. He’s often written as kind of a loner – going off on missionary journeys and doing his own thing. So it’s really important to see that before he did that he was nurtured and formed in Christian community! (Just like us!)

And then his last action in this reading is that he begins his public ministry as a preacher, going out and sharing the story of Jesus in synagogues. Can you imagine what kind of reception he may have gotten in some of those places? Maybe that’s why he needed to go and minister among Gentiles – because it may have been hard for people who knew of him before to accept the ‘new Saul’.

So that pattern again – an awakening,
a time of unknowing,
dying to what was,
receiving blessing through persons of faith,
emerging into a renewed life, symbolized by baptism,
being formed and nurtured in Christian community,
and then living out your calling by sharing the love of God in the world.

I’m not sure at what moment we might say that Saul was truly changed – but through this process, this pattern, it’s clear he was. Imagine going from being public enemy number one to being part of the group you were persecuting! Encountering the light of Christ, well, that changes everything, if you’re ready to receive it.

And that leads me back to the start of this story. I have a confession to make. read on →

Yr C ~ Palm Sunday ~ Luke 19:28-40

To begin, did anyone notice that in Luke’s version of Palm Sunday there are a couple of things missing – like palms? If we only had Luke’s version we’d have to call this story something else. Maybe Parade Sunday, or Cloak Sunday. In Luke’s version the people laid cloaks before Jesus but didn’t wave palm branches. Maybe the detail doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s enough to acknowledge that somehow Jesus’ arrival at the city of Jerusalem for Passover that year created quite a stir.

I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that what Jesus and his disciples are doing as they parade into Jerusalem for Passover is political theatre. There are crowds, cheering, a passionate exchange of ideas, and the entire act itself is making a big statement.

The details vary depending on which gospel you read this story in. For Luke’s version, other than there being no palms, the really interesting thing is the crowd. I want to say two things about this crowd – one of which might shift how you read the whole story!

Verse 37 says: As [Jesus] was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen.

Did you catch that? Who is making up this crowd? It says “the whole multitude of disciples!” A multitude of disciples! Not just 12, not just a bunch, but a multitude. I think our typical view of the story is that the crowd was made up of a throng of curious onlookers who heard a commotion and came to see what the fuss was about. But Luke suggests it was a multitude of disciples accompanying Jesus – followers filled with the Spirit and being unashamedly demonstrative about it.

Does that change the way you see the story? How about this? – If you were a Roman soldier or a Pharisee and you saw a random crowd gather you might worry a bit – but if you saw a multitude of disciples descending on the city raising a ruckus I’m pretty certain your guard would be up and you’d be ready for action.

Here’s a question for you. If Jesus were to appear today and start parading toward a city to make some kind of point would you be a curious onlooker? Would you be part of the parade laying down your cloak, singing songs of praise to God, and marching toward the powers that be? I wonder.

Ok, now we get to the really juicy stuff! Listen carefully to verse 39:
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.”

Did you catch that? Where does Luke suggest the Pharisees were? In the crowd! Not standing apart and looking down judgingly but in the midst of the crowd – the crowd of disciples! The suggestion here is that Jesus had some Pharisees as his disciples! Wow!

The story works perfectly well either way – whether the Pharisees were apart from the crowd or within it. What changes is the tone. If those Pharisees were disciples in the crowd then when they say “Teacher, order your disciples to stop” it isn’t an authoritative command from on high – it’s a heartfelt plea from within. The tone changes from angry judgment to friendly concern. Who better than Pharisees to understand that such a rowdy display was likely to seriously ruffle the feathers of the authorities.

However you interpret that one thing is certain. As Jesus entered Jerusalem he encountered opposition – maybe from without, maybe from within, but nonetheless, opposition. How did he respond? read on →

Yr C ~ Lent 5 ~ Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

This is the fifth sermon in a Lenten series called War of the Worlds. We’ve been looking at the culture clash and conflict that happens when the ‘ways of the world’ – which are marked by self-indulgence, self-importance, and self-obsession – collide with the ‘way of the Kingdom of God’ – which is grounded in love of God and love of other. I’ve called it ‘me, me, me’ vs ‘us, us, us’. And we’ve looked at it from a number of angles.

Interestingly, or perhaps tragically, over the centuries as we’ve tried to articulate what this Kingdom of God is like in contrast to the ‘ways of the world’ Christians have tended to get it, well, wrong. A lot. Our problem, our challenge, is that as we begin to describe God we have to rely on our own language and experience, both of which fall terribly short of being able to really frame the staggering awesomeness of God well. How do you describe the indescribable?
So instead of words and definitions we turn to stories and parables that paint pictures. Stories have the power to help us imagine things better – and there’s probably no better known story in the bible than that of the prodigals. Notice I didn’t call it the prodigal son. Although, I might have called it the prodigal sons, plural. More about that in a few minutes.

I know I’ve preached on it here a couple of times, so some of you may have heard some of this before, but I’m hoping it’ll still surprise you, and maybe even offend you. And if it doesn’t then I’m not doing my job – because it is actually a profoundly shocking story. That’s what parables always are – if you’re reading them right! They’re thought bombs, and they’re designed to explode your brain!

It’s actually three stories – about two brothers and their parent – and they’re all pretty shocking! The younger turns away from the family, squanders the inheritance, makes bad choices, falls on hard times, becomes humble, and returns. The shocking parts are that the parent didn’t really have to give the inheritance but did, and that the kid ended up slopping pigs, which for a Jew was shameful, unclean, a tremendous indignity.
So the kid goes home fully expecting, and frankly deserving, to be treated as nothing more than a servant. At least there’d be food! The response was shocking.

“While he was still a long way off,” the parent came running out, wouldn’t even listen to the kid’s apology, and welcomed the kid home without hesitation. It’s almost like the parent had been waiting with open arms the whole time.

What does this say about the character or nature of “the parent?”

Instead of punishment, or a reduction in status, or even a period of getting back in the good books, the parent throws a lavish party for the wayward child – the prodigal. It’s shocking! I’m not sure that’s how I’d react if this was actually happening to me. How about you?

What does this say about the character or nature of “the parent?”

Enter the sulking older sibling – sees the party, learns it’s for the returned prodigal, and goes off in a huff. This is the dutiful child who stayed home and took care of things while the other one goofed off. Most of us probably relate to this older child. We’re the ones who follow the rules and do the right thing.

Are you ready for the shocking part? This child is a prodigal too!
Are you ready for another shocking part? The parent again comes running out and begs the older child to come in and share in the party.

What does this say about the character or nature of “the parent?”

Now, I’m sure we have some sympathy for the older sibling. Because we’re the dutiful ones we want to be rewarded and honoured for being good. On one level the older kid has a case. “I’ve produced like society says I’m supposed to. Where’s my reward?”

Is it any wonder we get theology wrong so often? On the surface the older sib looks like the one who’s hard done by. That’s our automatic reaction. But that’s also the way of the world. “Where’s my reward? I earned it.”

The parent though is on a whole other level.
The parent says, “But you’ve been with me all the time!”
And we go, “Huh?! That’s the reward?”
Yeah! It is!

What the parent didn’t say, and what the preacher gets to fill in is the longer, unpublished version of the parent’s speech… read on →

Yr C ~ Lent 3 ~ Luke 13:1-9

In the 1992 Clint Eastwood movie “Unforgiven” a young man who has just killed a man says, “Well, I reckon he had it coming.” To this the grizzled old gun slinger played by Eastwood replies, “We all got it coming, kid.”

How do you feel about that? It’s a heavy question. The technical theological term for it is theodicy. Theodicy is about the question of how to reconcile the presence of evil in the world if God is supreme, omnipotent, omniscient.

When bad things happen to good people is it a sign of God’s judgment?
When good things happen to bad people is it a sign of God dropping the ball?
Does God permit bad things to happen?
Cause them?
It’s a fundamental, core question that each of us has to answer for ourselves: what kind of god is the Holy Mystery we call God?

Jesus has a few thoughts on this! He tells us a couple of hot news stories in this passage. In one story we’re told that Pilate apparently (oh wait, it’s a news story – allegedly) killed some people while they were at worship.
Did they have it coming?
Did they die because they were worse sinners than other people?
Did God use Pilate as a tool?

Then there’s the story of an accident where a tower fell down and some people were killed.
Did they have it coming?
Or was it just terrible luck?
Is God pushing buildings over on people?
Is God standing by helplessly watching?

Jesus answers the questions plainly. He says no, God didn’t do this. That’s not the way God works. That is some bad, bad theology. Remember that next time some wild-eyed televangelist tries to blame some tragic event on sinful people.

Jesus. Says. No.

God does not will evil, permit evil, cause evil, use evil, or have anything to do with evil. God is love. Elsewhere Jesus says that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. But he doesn’t stop there. This isn’t a shoulder-shrugging fatalism that glumly endures whatever happens and renders God irrelevant.

The point is not to try to figure out why some folks suffer or die in certain ways; the point Jesus makes is that we’re all going to die – some naturally, some by violence, some by accidents. But instead of fussing about that Jesus says we should spend our energy on how we live!

Twice here in this passage Jesus calls us to repent. Now, that’s a loaded word for some people. It has been understood (and preached) poorly over time.
Repent means to have a change of heart, a change of mind. Literally it means to have a new mind. There is a turning, a change of direction, an end to one path in favour of a new path in God’s love. A deep personal relationship with the Sacred is neither fire insurance nor a protective bubble – it’s about being fully alive while we’re alive. It’s about abundant life in this life.

In Luke 13:3 and again in verse 5, Jesus says something very cryptic. About those tragic news reports, and friends we’re still being inundated with tragic news reports all the time – Jesus asks whether those folks had it coming.
His answer is: No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.

We get the repent part – to have a change of heart and mind. But what about that ‘if you don’t you’ll all perish as they did’ part? read on →

Yr C ~ Lent 3 ~ Philippians 3:17-4:1

I’m calling this Lenten sermon series the War of the Worlds – borrowing from H.G. Wells’ classic sci-fi novel – a novel about what happens when a powerful, hostile ‘world’ wages war on a ‘world’ with an entirely different world-view. And really, that’s what this is about – it’s a war of the world-views. This concept is erupting with devastating consequences around our planet right now. Places like Ukraine, Myanmar, Yemen, Ethiopia-Eritrea-Sudan, on and on the violence goes. The evil of ‘power-over’ clashing with those who would resist.

Solving geo-political quagmires is far beyond us, but we can’t help but want to do something, anything to help. That’s why our recent appeal for donations of personal care items for people in Ukraine was so overwhelmingly supported. It was something we could tangibly do beyond thoughts and prayers.
And, this is important – it was a way to assert our world-view in the face of an oppressive world-view.

This is the war of the world-views that we can make a difference in. It’s the ‘ways of the world’ vs God’s Way. It’s the kingdoms of empire vs the Kingdom of God. It’s me, me, me vs us, us, us. The first Sunday in Lent we looked at Jesus in the wilderness – countering the voice of temptation that tries to entice us with taking the easy way, worshipping the wrong things, and distracting us from filling our tank with Spirit.

Last week we explored our constant struggle to turn away from self-interest, and self-indulgence, and self-importance and press on toward the ever-deepening goal of love, love, love. Today we’re picking up right where we left off in Philippians 3 and hearing Paul say more about those who worship the ways of the world, especially the self-indulgence part. We’re using The Message translation today because it’s phrasing is so personal and relatable, and I’m going to go verse-by-verse and amplify Paul’s words as I go.

v.17 Stick with me, friends. Keep track of those you see running this same course, headed for this same goal.

Watch for people whose faith journey seems deep and grounded. Seek out mentors you can be in relationship with and learn from. They probably won’t see themselves as worthy of being a mentor. But they are. We say we follow Jesus, but really we follow one another in the ways Jesus taught. When the world gives us so many examples of unhealthy and unloving ways to walk, it’s that much more critical that we find kindred in Christ whose walk inspires us.
Because…

v.18 There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I’ve warned you of them many times; sadly, I’m having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ’s Cross.

Easy street is the opposite of what Jesus taught. That’s why so many people seem hostile to our faith. Maybe you’ve encountered some of that. It usually comes in the form of a vicious and dismissive eye-roll! Maybe some of that hostility comes from the fact that far too many people through church history have tried to make faith into easy street. “Say these magic sentences and you get into heaven!” That’s easy street thinking.
Faith is the opposite of that.
Faith knows it’s not what you say – it’s how you live.
It’s how you love.
It’s how you love, love, love.

Easy-streeters hate Christ’s cross because the cross symbolizes dying to the ways of the world and opening your heart to God’s way of love. Dying to me, me, me and being reborn into us, us, us. Letting go of the lure of easy street is really hard, because on the surface it seems so appealing.

v.19 But easy street is a dead-end street.

The NRSV bible says for those on that path “their end is destruction.” It doesn’t really mean annihilation, but instead means “loss of well-being” not loss of ‘being’.
Loss of well-being. A dead-end street.
If that’s so obvious to us, why is this a problem? Why is the way of the world, easy street, so alluring?

v.19 continues Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites.

What does it mean to make your belly your god? read on →