May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Two years ago at our Diocese Synod, the synod of Huron voted to memorialise Archbishop Oscar Romero. What this means in the Anglican tradition is that we recognise his status within the Roman Catholic Church. As he proceeds toward sainthood (San Romero), we in the Diocese of Huron have chosen to embrace this journey and make his soon to be saint day, his day of remembrance part of our calendar. That day is March 24, the date of Romero’s assassination, just two days ago. Today I want to reflect upon Romero, how he lived his life and he was blind but regained his sight.

When you step off the plane in El Salvador and you enter into the city of San Salvador, without realising it you are stepping deep into the biblical narrative. That isn’t to say that El Salvador is some backwards third world country that has you stepping backwards 2000 years into the past, for San Salvador is much like any North American city complete with gas stations, shopping malls and of course ice cream shops.

No. What I mean is that the biblical story has been lived out in El Salvador in our lifetime. This becomes abundantly clear as you drive around the city and country and you steep yourself in its people and its history. This is the place that its people suffered in slavery, suppressed by Pharaoh, the right wing government of oligarchs. This is the place where they journeyed for years in exile during the civil war, searching for their promise land, to share all that God had promised them with each other, where the land could provide enough for each person, a land flowing with milk and honey. And this is the place that gave birth to some of the most prominent people in the Liberation Theology movement, prophets to be sure.

Let me explain. You see before Oscar Romero was Oscar Romero, he was a dutiful priest in El Salvador. He was, in many ways, ill prepared for his ascension to the role of Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in El Salvador. He was a quiet man, who more often than not shrank from confrontation. He was prayerful of course and he lived a pious and meagre life, serving the people that God sent to him.

But much like the Catholic Church as a whole at that time, he focused on the salvation of the person’s soul, not the material conditions in which people found themselves. The scripture that informed the church’s position in El Salvador was, “blessed are the poor for theirs shall be the kingdom of heaven”. He taught, much like the rest of the church, that you ought to be happy with your lot in this life for in the kingdom of heaven you would receive their reward. And that is how the church became a tool of the right wing government, the military and the oligarchy that helped to maintain the status quo and the oppression of the poor. Take your lumps for your reward will be in heaven. Hardly the principles of a legend, like Romero. Much more akin to one who is blind to the plight of his people.

That was, of course, till Romero met a friend and mentor, Padre Grande. Padre Grande was a revolutionary, a rogue and a radical. And he was a mentor to Romero. Padre Grande preached a radical message. He preached a message of the love of God for the poor, not only in the next world but also in this world, in the material conditions in which the poor found themselves. He preached that God chooses the poor, he resides with the poor and that God has a preference for the poor, a message with deep scriptural and theological roots.

This revolutionary and counter-cultural message of the times rubbed the ruling families the wrong way. Romero hadn’t adopted this position when he ascended the throne of the archbishop of El Salvador. In fact, he was chosen specifically to be archbishop because he was quiet and a moderate. The government and the oligarchs of El Salvador figured he would be a useful tool in using religion as the opiate of the masses in an effort to maintain the status quo and their position of privilege.

Two events changed the course of Romero’s life and therefore also changed the fate and destiny of the people of El Salvador. He was asked to be present by the army at a student protest, for the army feared violence would break out and the archbishop’s presence with the military could help keep the peace. Three times the generals asked Romero, and three times Romero denied them, quietly and simply saying he would pray for them.

When Romero woke the next day and opened the paper, he read of the violence that had occurred, how the army had opened fire on the peaceful protesters and how hundreds were now dead, murdered by their government. Romero had an epiphany that day. A moment when the heavens are torn open and God descended. That doing nothing was, in fact, a choice, and therefore he was complicit with the murders and the violence that had just occurred because choosing to do nothing meant he chose the side of the oppressor.

And while Romero was wrestling with this epiphany, during a period of fasting and prayer, Padre Grande his mentor and friend and a leader in the liberation theology movement in the Roman Catholic Church was assassinated by the government of El Salvador. Much as John the Baptist was killed and silenced by Herod, Padre Grande was also silenced by those he opposed with nothing more than a message of peace, love and repentance. A message the oligarchs deemed too dangerous.

These two events, the gift from God of knowledge and the death of a mentor spurred Romero into a new direction, a new ministry; a ministry to be with the poor and to speak on behalf of the poor. A ministry that focused on the life of Christ, the life that Christ lead; of feeding the poor, healing the sick and caring for the most vulnerable of society. A ministry that focused on not only allowing the light of Christ to guide our lives, but for the light of Christ to become a beacon for nation suffering under foreign oppression and domination, as the US government ignored atrocities of entire villages being murdered as they poured over 1 million dollars a day in military aid into the right wing government and the oligarchs that controlled it.

If this reminds you of the baptism of Christ and Jesus’s relationship with John the Baptist, it should, for it is a mirror of the Gospel story. Romero would champion the cause of the poor. The light of Christ guided Romero and his work of healing a nation and a people divided. The government, the Pharisees, though fought him every step of the way.

Until they could take no more. The Pharisees, the government, conspired after one of the most controversial sermons Romero preached on a radio address to the people of El Salvador in which he ordered the soldiers of the military junta to disobey commands when ordered to open fire and kill their brother or sister, their fellow Salvadorian. That God’s law of thou shall not kill trumps any order from any officers in the military, or the government, or the Pharisees, the oligarchs.

And while preparing to celebrate the last supper, the Eucharist, the greatest offering to God of the church, Romero was assassinated. Gunned down in cold blood has he stood behind the altar of our Lord.

After preaching love, healing and care for the poor in the outskirts of the Holy Land, the outskirts of Jerusalem, Romero would come to Jerusalem, San Salvador and would be killed by the authorities. I remembered Christ own journey from baptism and his light rising as John light faded, till John was eventually killed like Padre Grande. And I remembered how Christ actions of siding with the poor and fighting systems of oppressions of oligarchs and foreign domination would lead to his eventual crucifixion.

This is where the story diverges, although I wonder if it truly does. Christ was resurrected, while Romero lies dead still. I have visited and prayed at his tomb. Except, except that in his final sermon the night before his assassination, Romero boldly predicted that even if he were killed he would live on in the people of El Salvador. And after visiting his tomb and walking past mural after mural, shrine after shrine, the image of Oscar Romero is literally everywhere in El Salvador.

I tell you this story of the people of El Salvador for a reason. We, like Monsieur Romero have a choice. We can either choose blindness or we can choose to see. Romero was blind to the plight of his people until the light of Christ illumined the suffering of the people of El Salvador. And we too have the same choice. The salve to open our eyes lies within the words of scripture, the Logos, the word made flesh, Jesus. The healing of our blindness comes from following Christ. Our sight is dependent on washing ourselves in the waters of baptism as the blind man washed himself in the pool of Siloam.

But like the blind, I will not promise you that from baptism comes a life of ease. We will be questioned as he was questioned. We will be doubted as he was doubted. We will be pushed out and ostracised as he was. Yet even though it will not be easy, the grace that flows from the waters of baptism will heal us and we others. We were blind but now we see. And once we see the plight of the poor, once we have walked with them in their lives, in mission and service of mutual transformation, we, like Romero will never be the same. I was blind, but now I see.

Dios bendiga a monseñor Romero y Dios los bendiga. Amen

The follow sermon series was inspired from my recent mission trip to El Salvador with Foundation Cristosal. Walking through Holy Week is something I had the privilege to do this past year, not just during Holy Week itself, but also in the lives, memory and people of El Salvador. I have included for you pictures that inspired my thoughts. I hope and pray that my words and thoughts have honoured the people we met and the stories we were entrusted with.

Palm Sunday

Readings:
Isaiah 50:4-9b
Psalm 31:9-16
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke 22:14-23:56

When you step off the plane in El Salvador and you enter into the city of San Salvador, without realizing it you are stepping into the biblical narrative. That isn’t to say that El Salvador is some backwards third world country that has you stepping backwards 2000 years into the past, for San Salvador is much like any North American city complete with gas stations, shopping malls and of course ice cream shops, just ask the Dean of the Cathedral. Every time we past one there was a Kevin shaped cloud in the place where Kevin recently stood, right out of Loony Tune cartoons fame.

No what I mean is that the biblical story has been lived out in El Salvador in our generation. This becomes abundant clear as you drive around the city and you steep yourself in its people and its history. This is the place that suffered its people in slavery, suppressed by Pharaoh, an oligarchy. This is the place where they journeyed for years in exile during the civil war, searching for their promise land, to share all that God had promised them. And this is the place that gave birth to some of the most profound people in the Liberation Theology, messiahs of sorts.

Let me explain. You see before Oscar Romero was Oscar Romero, he was a dutiful priest in El Salvador. He was, in many ways, ill prepared for his ascension to the role of Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in El Salvador. He was a quiet man, who more often then not shrank from confrontation. He was prayerful of course and he lived a pious and meager life, serving the people that God sent to him.

But much like the Catholic Church as a whole, he focused on the salvation of the person’s soul. The scripture that informed the church’s position was, “blessed are the poor for theirs shall be the kingdom of heaven”. He taught, much like the rest of the church, that you ought to be happy with your lot in this life for in the kingdom of heaven they would receive their reward. And the church was a tool of the right wing government, the military and the oligarchy that helped to maintain the status quo and oppress the poor. Hardly the principles of a legend, like Romero.

That was, of course, till Romero met a friend and mentor, Padre Grande. Padre Grande was a revolutionary, a rogue and a radical. And he was a mentor to Romero. Padre Grande preached a radical message. He preached that God loved all, equally in this world and in the next. But more so he preached that God went to the poor, to those that suffers. That God goes to the poor of El Salvador and that God wants the wealth of the world, and especially of El Salvador, to be redistributed so that all share in God’s abundance.

This revolutionary and a counter cultural message of the times rubbed the oligarchy the wrong way. Romero hadn’t adopted this position when he ascended to be archbishop of El Salvador. In fact, he was chosen because to be archbishop because he was quiet and a moderate. The government and the oligarchy figured he would be a useful tool in using religion as the opiate of the masses in an effort to maintain the status quo.

Two events changed the course of Romero’s life and therefor changed the destiny of the people of El Salvador. He was asked to be present by the army at a student protest, for the army feared violence would break out and the archbishop’s presence with the military could help keep the peace. Three times the generals asked Romero, and three times Romero quietly and simply said he would pray for them.

When Romero woke the next day and opened the paper, he read of the violence that had occurred. Romero had an epiphany that day. A moment when the heavens are tore open and God descends. That doing nothing was, in fact, a choice, and therefore he was complicit with the murders and the violence that had just occurred.

And while Romero was wrestle with this knowledge, during a period of fasting and prayer, Padre Grande his mentor and friend and leader in the liberation theology movement in the Roman Catholic Church in El Salvador, was assassinated by the government.

These two events, the gift from God of knowledge and the death of a mentor spurred Romero into a new direction, a new ministry; a ministry to be with the poor and speak on behalf the poor. A ministry that focused on the life of Christ, the life that Christ lead; of feeding the poor, healing the sick and caring for the most vulnerable of society.

If this reminds you of the baptism of Christ and Jesus’s relationship with John the Baptist, it should, for it is mirror of the Gospel story. And for the next three years, three years, Romero would champion the cause of the poor. For three years, much like Christ himself, Romero worked at healing a nation and a people divided. The oligarchy, the Pharisees though, fought him every step of the way.

Until after three years they could take no more. The Pharisees, the oligarchy, conspired after one of the most controversial sermons Romero preached in which he ordered the soldiers of the military to disobey orders when ordered to kill their brother or sister, their fellow Salvadorian. That God’s law of thou shall not kill trumps any order from officers in the military, or from the oligarchy, the Pharisees.

And while preparing to celebrate the last supper, the Eucharist, the greatest the offering to God of the church, Romero was assassinated. Gunned down in cold blood has he stood behind the altar of our Lord.

As I reflected upon Palm Sunday and Christ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem after three years of preaching, healing and caring for the poor in the outskirts of the Holy Land, I remembered the story I had just walked in El Salvador. I remembered Christ own journey from baptism and his light rising as John light faded, till John was eventually killed. And I remembered how Christ actions of siding with the poor and fighting systems of oppressions would lead to his eventual crucifixion.

Of course Christ is resurrected, while Romero lies dead still. Except that in his final sermon Romero boldly predicted that even if he was killed he would live on in the people of El Salvador. And as we past mural after mural, the image of Oscar Romero is literally everywhere in El Salvador.

So I invite you my friends, as we prepare ourselves for Holy Week, and to walk the path from the triumphant entrance into Jerusalem to the cross; and from the cross to the tomb. And from the tomb to the resurrection; I invite you to remember that this is not just a story from a long time ago, but it is a story that God continues to enact in our world today. It is the story of the people of El Salvador and if we have ears to listen and eyes to see, it is our story also, the story of St Andrew Memorial and the people of London.

This week, look around you, read the paper, watch the news and be vigilant in prayer. For if you look around you, you will see the heavens split apart and God’s spirit descend. You will see wild men and women preaching the gospel and offering their lives. You will see people offering service, healing others and caring for the poor and you will see death, like death upon the cross. But if you look, if you really really look, pray and see with spirit filled eyes, you will have the privilege of also seeing resurrection.

Amen.

Maundy Thursday

Readings
Exodus 12:1-14
Psalm 16:1-2, 12-19
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-7, 31b-35

What does it mean to be a servant? And what does it mean to choose to serve the poor? These are the questions that pre-occupies a preacher during Holy Week, and most especially as we begin the Triduum; the great three days of Easter; Maundy Thursday and the institution of the last supper; Good Friday when our Lord and Saviour is crucified and the Great Easter Vigil with the kindling of the new fire and the celebration of the empty tomb and the resurrection of Christ.

What does it mean to be a servant, a servant like Christ? Is it that once a year I kneel before you, my congregation, and humble myself and wash your feet as Christ washed the disciples feet? Perhaps. But this symbolic act is meant to remind and re-enforce the servant ministry that we have all taken up in our common baptism.

What does it mean to be a servant?

Our world, I think, is not so different then the world in which Christ found himself. He championed the poor and spoke on behalf of those that had so little. He cared for the sick and the outcast, ate and lived with sinners. And in the process violated many religious laws, whether biblical or institutional, that had been in place and used to oppress the poor and maintain the structures of society that benefitted the elite, an oligarchy.

Jesus message was a dangerous message for the powers of Jerusalem. Not because they would insight a revolt against Rome, but because they would insight a revolt against the religious oligarchy that had formed over many centuries and clung to its power. It was Jesus who stepped into the temple and drove the moneychangers out of the temple.

The scam was actually quite intricate. To have your sins forgiving you must offer sacrifice at the temple. You would journey to the temple and in the outer court purchase a dove from the priest to sacrifice. But because you couldn’t purchase a sacrifice with money that had a graven image upon it, like the image of Caesar, you had to change your money in for temple currency, at a fee of course.

The sacrifice would then be taken to the priest, and the penitent sinner would hope the priest did not find a blemish on the dove, for the process would start over and each time it did the temple authorities would glean a little more off the top because a dove with a blemish would not be worth the original price paid for it.

This religious oligarchy would do whatever they had to do to maintain their control and power over the people. What was at stake for them was their power, wealth and earthly possessions. And like most of history, oligarchies use deadly force to silence movements before a revolt could occur and their power eroded.

History is replete with example after example of this same story being lived out time and time again. It happened in ancient Palestine with Jesus, it happened in South Africa under Apartheid, and it happened in El Salvador.

When the power and wealth of oligarchies, the social elites, is threatened, they use whatever resources are at their disposal to silence the ones that are speaking on behalf of the poor and serving the most marginalized in society. For when the poor are cared for, they have something very very dangerous, hope. And with hope, they aspire for something better.

In the case of South Africa this was the imprisonment of Nelson Mandela, the execution of Stephen Biko and the forced oppression of millions of people. In El Salvador this comprised of the assassination of prominent church figures like Oscar Romero, Padre Grande, the Jesuits instructors at the University of the Americas and many others.

In El Salvador this went so far as to ban the owning and carrying of a bible. For the bible and the biblical message of caring for the poor and the sick, that God always sides with the poor and calls government to the fire for not caring for the poor, was seen as a communist message, a revolutionary message and a message that threatened the power of the ruling elites. And it is this message, preached and lived by Oscar Romero, that lead to his assassination by the government.

An example closer to home for us is the way in which the rich used the state and the police to disperse and eliminate a growing movement is the occupy movement, which was casting a light upon the income discrepancy between the 1% and the 99%.

In each case the powerful and rich of society continue, as they did 2000 years ago, to bully, silence and many times resort to coercive and deadly force to eliminate those that would speak on behalf of the poor and marginalized; to point out the various structural injustices in society.

What does it mean to be a servant?

The servant is often cast in a horrible light in the media, as stories are fabricated or embellished. Servants are forced to live through attack after attack upon their character, their morality and often their very physical being as well.

To be a servant, is to suffer and walk in the shadow of the cross. It is to be vilified in society and cast out because the oligarchies, filled with greed for wealth and power, will do whatever they have to do to keep their wealth, even if that means oppressing the poor, destroying the lives of thousands and eliminating servants, by whatever means necessary.

Tonight as we reflect upon what it means to be a servant like Christ, to bend low and wash the feet of the disciples, we come face to face with the cost of a servant ministry, the cost that many saints before us have born. And we struggle with our willingness to bare these costs and to speak on behalf of the poor and to serve those in needs. But as we struggle to with the true cost of servant-hood we know as Christians, we do not bare these costs alone.

Even in the darkest of nights in prison on Robbin Island, Mandela knew he was not alone. Standing at the altar, preparing to celebrate the Eucharist, Romero knew he was not alone. And as we, servants of our fellow person, we know when we go forward to do the work of God, the Missio Dei, we are not alone either.

We are joined to Christ and the saints throughout the ages through our common baptism. And we gain insight and courage from their example. But most notably and most importantly, we gain strength and courage to continue to serve the poor by being nourished in the meal that Jesus inaugurated this night, in the bread and the wine, the Eucharist.

In it we find hope, peace and most especially love. And armed with these virtues we go forward into the world to serve the poor and meet all those that would stop us with hate, anger and violence to save for themselves a few more dollars. And while at times it may seem bleak and hopeless, we return to the table to be nourished and find what will be waiting for us on Easter Sunday, in the empty tomb and God’s promise. Peace, love, hope and Resurrection. All the things we need to be servants.

Amen.

Good Friday

Readings:
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Psalm 22
Hebrews 10:16-25
John 18:1-19:42

Rufina Amaya was one of the only survivor of the El Mozote massacre on December 11 and December 12, 1981, in the Salvadoran department of Morazán during the Salvadoran Civil War.

Early in the morning, the soldiers assembled the entire village in the square. They separated the men from the women and children and locked them in separate groups in the church, the convent, and various houses.
During the morning, they proceeded to interrogate, torture, and execute the men in several locations. Around noon, they began taking the women and older girls in groups, separating them from their children and gunning them down after raping them.

Finally, they killed the children at first by slitting their throats then by hanging them from trees, with one child as young as two years old. After killing the entire population, the soldiers set fire to the buildings and burned the village and all the corpses to the ground.

The soldiers remained in El Mozote that night but the next day went to the village of Los Toriles, some 2 km away and carried out a further massacre. Men, women and children were taken from their homes, lined up, robbed and shot and their homes then set ablaze.

Hidden in a tree to which she had run to while soldiers were distracted, Amaya watched and listened as government soldiers raped women, then killed men, women. She watched them then burn the bodies.
Amaya lost not only her neighbors, but also her husband whose decapitation she saw; her 9-year-old son, who cried out to her, “Mama, they’re killing me. They’ve killed my sister. They’re going to kill me.”; and her daughters ages 5 years, 3 years, and 8 months old were also killed. The only one of her children who was not killed in the massacre was her daughter Fidelia, who was not in the village at the time.

Following the massacre, Amaya became a refugee for a time in the neighboring country of Honduras. She returned to El Salvador in 1990. Her testimony of the attacks, reported shortly afterward by two American reporters, but the reports were called into question by the U.S. journalism community as well as by the U.S. and Salvadoran governments, was instrumental in the eventual investigation by the United Nations Commission on the Truth for El Salvador after the end of the war.

The investigation led to the November 1992 exhumation of bodies buried at the site and the commission’s conclusion that Amaya’s testimony and experiences had accurately represented the events has they occurred.
I cannot imagine what Amaya had gone through that night or any other night afterwards when she closed her eyes and went to slept. What visions and dreams would haunt her? I cannot imagine what she endured as a wife, a friend and a mother. Or how she continued on and even moved back to the site of such a horrific event.

And as I cried at the mass burial site, knowing my tears were mixing in the dirt with the tears of so many others who had come there since so much blood had been spilled, and I looked at the grave of Rufina Amaya, buried with her kin after her death in 2007 from a stroke, I was confronted with the ugliness of the cross, and the love of a mother, of Mary.

The brutal power of the state, of the right wing government and the oligarchy bent on crushing a rebellion is not very different then the oligarchy of religious Jewish figures and the Roman Empire some 2000 years ago.
The desire for earthly power and money and the lengths that people go to cling to that power is disturbing. And standing at the crossroads of the cross of El Mozete I was forced to confront that our world is not so much different or evolved.

In that village, Christ suffered. In that village Christ was crucified. And in that village Christ died. Soldiers carried out the orders of the ruling elites and crucified the Lord. Power and wealth was protected. A movement crushed and the people beat down by a power thirsty oligarchy. And this all happened while Mary or Rufina, the mother watched.

Today, as we come forward to venerate the cross, stop and read the articles and look at the pictures crucified on the wood. Christ suffered long ago, in the mists of time. But Christ continues to suffer, in the people of El Salvador, the men, women and children of El Mozote and in the many tragedies that continue in the world.
Today we have walked with Christ as far as we can go. We can walk no further. Now, like Mary and like Rufina Amaya, we must watch, we must see, and we must listen. We must tell the story so it is not forgotten, how one man speaking to the face of power risked everything for the poor of the world. We must tell the story of how Christ continues to pour out his blood in the people of the world, in the people of El Salvador and El Mozote and we must be vigilant in prayer, looking for hope and trusting that God will provide.

Amen.

Easter Sunday

Readings:
Isaiah 65:17-25
Paslm:118:1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
John 20:1-18

Over this past Holy Week we have travelled from the triumphant entrance into Jerusalem of Jesus to great fanfare and him being welcomed as a king, the messiah. We sat at the Last Supper and experienced the betrayal of Judas, one of the disciples. We prayed in the garden with Jesus before his arrest. And we stood and watch his trial before Pilate and his eventual execution by crucifixion.

As a spiritual exercise, each year, we commemorate these events in our worship. We re-create the triumphant entrance with a procession on Palm Sunday. We sit for the last super, wash the feet of others and await the betrayal we know that is coming. And we come on Good Friday to hear the passion, and to experience the crucifixion. And then on Easter Sunday, we great the empty tomb and celebrate with our Lord and Saviour the victory over death.

This year I framed the experience of Holy Week in the life of the people of El Salvador from my recent mission trip. And in that framing, I think, we came to realize that the biblical story is not something from long ago, but is something that continues to be lived out in people’s lives. That God continues to act in the world to restore his people back to right relationship when things go so terribly wrong.

We learned how Oscar Romero served the poor for three years as archbishop before his own crucifixion, when he assassinated behind the altar has he prepared to celebrate communion. We heard how his mentor, Padre Grande, a radical and a bit of a rogue influenced the life and ministry of Oscar Romero, much like John the Baptist influenced the life and ministry of Jesus Christ and how the story of these two men mirrored the biblical story of John the Baptist and Jesus himself.

We heard about how when individuals side with the poor, speak on behalf of the poor and seek to help the poor attain the basics in life, food, clothing and shelter and basic human rights and a fair wage, the social elites, the oligarchies, will use whatever force is required to suppress or eliminate those that would rise against their earthly power and wealth, even if that means resorting to murder to keep 30 pieces of silver whist other beg for food.

Padre Grande assassinated, Oscar Romero assassinated, the Jesuit martyrs, all betrayed and killed by a government that they peacefully protested against, when they were only asking for fair treatment of the poor, and that all of God’s children share in God’s abundance. Some of the most basics that we take for granted here at home on Canada like being able to turn on your tap and have water that will not kill you.

And we walked the long road to the crucifixion through the massacre at El Mozote, where we heard the horrific tale of Rufina Amaya, the lone survivor of the massacre where the entire village was systematically eliminated. Men murdered, women raped and killed and children horribly murdered. And like Rufina Amaya we came before the cross to look at the ugliness of the cross and the results of human action and greed.

We have journeyed to the end of Holy Week and it is Easter Sunday. But we haven’t yet heard all the tales of El Salvador. We haven’t heard the last. There is still more stories to tell. And in many ways as I prepared to tell this story, I must admit I was very tempted to swap out the gospel reading for today, and instead to read the story of the road to Emmaus from the Gospel of Luke. And the reason for that is that I want to tell you the story of Maria.

Maria is a farmer who lives by Perquin, in the Morazan department in El Salvador. The Morazan Department and especially around Perquin was guerilla controlled territory during the Salvadorian civil war. As such, most of, if not all, the local population was eventually driven out. If you continued to live in the area you would be considered a guerilla and killed by the state for simply eeking out a living on the land.

In the war Maria lost her husband and her son. Her farm was burnt and the buildings destroyed. All that she had was gone. She lived as a refugee for a time in Honduras until the end of the war. She returned to her farm, found “this old man” she would say as she pointed to a man standing by her, her new husband and telling us he would do just fine with a wink.

Her daughter lived with her, her son in law and now grandchildren. The little children ran around the farm and chased after the dog and laughed. In all it had the makings of a beautiful life, a life filled with love and grace.

We happened there quite by accident really. After walking through the El Mozote massacre site and tracing the escape path of Rufina Amaya, we had journeyed to Perquin to see the revolutionary museum and the old Guerilla camp. Having gotten ourselves ahead of schedule (a miracle in of itself), we found we had the morning free in Perquin, and having sat at the foot of cross, so to speak, the day before as we experienced El Mozote, we took advantage of the free time and our local guide knew a river where we could go swimming for the morning and decompress.

That is when we drove onto the farm, or rolled back the stone and looked inside the tomb. Maria invited us into her home. A modest building where the kitchen attached to it was open with only a roof over top. The morning breeze brought the smell of cooking to meet us as we approached. The fire was going, the metal skillet sat atop and Maria was making tortillas. She invited us into her home and we sat in her kitchen has she cooked. She told us her story, the story of losing her husband, her son and her farm. We heard about lose and betrayal. We heard about greed and death.

But she kept talking, smiling and laughing. She told us about her new husband, her grandchildren and how she re-claimed her farm. Her snow-white cat was begging for food and once it got its food the dog kept trying to steal the cats food. It was peaceful, loving and warm. It seemed so distant from the tales of war, massacres, pain, suffering and loss. Here was a place of peace and love.

Maria offered us fresh cheese she had just made and tortillas right off the grill and we graciously accepted. As we waited for the tortillas to cool so we could eat them, Maria began to make fun of us (Silly Gringos) for having such soft hands, just like her son in law. She reached over and broke our bread for us, she broke bread for us. “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him”

Maria opened her home to us and shared with us her story of renewal and new life. We broke bread together and in that moment after all the pain and suffering we had experienced, we came to know and experience resurrection. Maria ceased to be Maria, but Christ was made known to us.

It would be easy to pass over and not recognize Christ as Mary in the garden fails to recognize him immediately. We are always left looking for that perfect image or that perfect moment. We are looking for the heavens to be tore open and Jesus descend on a cloud in majesty. And as such we forget to look for the way that God subtle works in the world, the subtle and small little ways that God recreates, renews and creates that Easter moment of resurrection.

As I sat eating my Tortilla and cheese, the sounds of the world slowly vanished. The mowing of the cow and belting of the goats drifted away and this Salvadorian woman captivated me. For in the breaking of the bread, Christ promised that we would know him. And in the breaking of the tortillas the image of Christ appeared to us that day and that was the image of an old, weathered, partially toothless Salvadorian women. Christ was alive. Alleluia, Christ is risen. Praise be to God.

Amen.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

As I preparing for this morning’s sermon this past week, I was struggling with the text. It is a difficult text to preach upon in many ways. John the Baptist, who is well known as the herald and harbinger of the coming of the messiah, is dressing down the Jews, his congregation in a real sense, and calling them all a brood of vipers. And he openly wonders as to who it was that warned them of the forthcoming messiah and why they are repenting now as he says,

“John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

A scathing retort against any congregation and one I am sure I would never be able to get away with. And I was reading commentaries and essays on this passage on where I could focus my sermon, especially taking into considerations on our Advent theme of “Spend Less, Give More, Love All”. I could focus this homily on our desire as a people of God to leave behind the business as usual, for something new is about to arrive. A great message and focus for us as we re-discover what it is to live missionally again here in Old South.

I could look at the angle of those that rise to a new challenge because of a friend and mentor, as the disciples rose to new challenges through following Christ. And we have so many pop cultures examples of this too that I could draw upon for a laugh or two, like Karate Kid and Good Will Hunting. And imagine the unbelievable heights we will reach because we follow Christ? We could even share some stories of how we have risen to new challenges because of our faith, have a kind of revival and have old fashion testimonials.

And as I sat constructing a sermon that spoke of God’s grace and mercy, the hope we find in Jesus Christ, the expectant messiah, and how we can as community rise to any challenge if we follow our friend and mentor, Jesus Christ, that I should confess my struggles with the text had me writing my sermon on Friday. I was here in the sanctuary on Friday, preparing my sermon, preparing for last rites with one of our beloved, when my twitter account began to get a lot more active. That is when I tuned into CBC and then I heard about the tragedy in Newtown.

20 children gunned down and 6 adults. I was shacking by the news. I was numb at first, then angry, then completely sad. And as I fell to my knees in the sanctuary to pray at that moment for the victims, their families, and all those affected by this horrible, senseless event, and my mind was drawn to a different passage of scripture as I realized that the sermon I was working on could wait till another day.

All I could think about was the Gospel of Matthew, in chapter 2, after the wise men visit the infant Jesus and depart by another route so Herod does not find out where the Christ child is. I was drawn to the massacre of the Holy Infants as it is known.

“When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
‘A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’”

I knew then that my original sermon could wait. And this Sunday as we light the candle of Love, we would need to, as a community here, as neighbours to those that have lost so many precious little children, need to stop and talk about the events. We would need to ask why? How? And it would be a challenge to our faith. We would need to weep and yes to wail with those that have lost so much.

In the coming days and weeks as more information becomes known, you may find yourself in conversations with people who will ask you where was God in this? Or you may find yourself talking to someone who believes they are speaking on behalf of God and interpreting the massacre. I would like to, first, offer you 5 things not to say. 5 bad theological answers to peoples’ questions. Then I want to offer you 5 things to say when asked or confronted with people who are seeking answers. And then lastly I would like to humbly offer a thought about where God is in the massacre of Holy Infants.

1. “God just needed another angel.”

Portraying God as someone who arbitrarily kills children to fill celestial openings is neither helpful nor faithful to God.

2. This happened because prayer was taking out of school.

I have seen a T-Shirt floating around Facebook that says, “A concerned students asks God, ‘why do you allow so much violence in schools. And the t-shirt portrays God as answering ‘Dear concerned student, I am not allowed in schools.”

This implies that God somehow not only let this event transpire, but also suggest that perhaps it is punishment and if we only had been good, more devout, our Jealous and vengeful God would not have allowed this to happen.

3. He/she was just on loan from God and God has now called them home.

The message here is that God is so frivolous that God will break parents’ hearts at will just because God can. It also communicates to parents and loved ones that they are not really entitled to their grief.

4. God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.

Bullsh*t! Actually, some people do get a lot more than any one person should ever have to handle. And it doesn’t come from God. Don’t trivialize someone’s grief with a “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” mentality.

5. This was God’s will or judgment.

Unless you are God, don’t use this line. Proclaiming that God seeks revenge or somehow willed that parents would lose 20 children does not speak of the incredible love that God has shown for us by giving his only Son to die. Knowing the pain He suffered while Christ died on the cross, I do not believe God would will 20 children to die in judgment of a society.

Many of these things will get said in the coming days, and they are pad answers that I don’t think speaks of the love we have known in Jesus Christ, the actions of Christ in the world and the continuing outpouring of love that we will experience at Christmas as the messiah comes among us. So when confronted or talking to your friends about this tragedy, here are 5 things or answers that speaks of who we are as a people of God.

1. I don’t believe God wanted this or willed it.

God creates and recreated everything new. In the Easter moment God renews all creation. Our God, the God that died upon the cross, never, ever willed pain, suffering or death upon any. This simply is not the message of Jesus Christ.

2. It’s okay to be angry, even if that is to be angry with God.

This often never gets said. That this is a time or mourning and we must keep our composer. I don’t believe that to be true. There are times when screaming, wailing and weeping is the only way. Be mad about this, please. And if you want to yell at God, do it. I am sure he can take it.

3. It’s not okay.

It seems so obvious, but sometimes this doesn’t get said enough. Sometimes the pieces don’t fit. Sometimes nothing works out right. And sometimes there is no way to fix it. And there is nothing okay about this. And it is not okay with God.

4. I don’t know why this happened.

People are looking for answers, but giving them pad answers can deny them their grief, their anger and their sorrow. We don’t know why this happened yet, and we may never know. Don’t trivialize it with stock answers. Say what we all feel, we don’t know why this happened.

5. I can’t imagine what you are going through.

Often there is nothing we can do in our support of others. There is nothing to do but hug one another and cry, weep and wail. There are times when the world makes so little sense. And the events that surround us shock us and can de-humanize us and they become far to commonplace. Allowing ourselves the opportunity to cry and be angry helps us keep our humanity in the face of such senseless violence.

So as we contemplate this tragedy and how the lives of so many are affected I want to simply remind you that God takes no joy in this, or is it any part of his plan or judgment upon us, his people. But that God’s actions in the world rather is this, God goes to those who have suffered and God choses to be with those that have lost so many beautiful children and loved ones, and God joins with them, with us and with the world, as he did with Rachel and God “weeps for his children;
he refuses to be consoled, because they are no more.’

Let us pray,

God of grace and mercy, to all who have suffered in this tragedy be with them in their suffering, in their weeping and their wailing; be with us and the millions trying to make sense of this event and we pray for those who that lost their lives, grant to them eternal rest and perpetual light shine upon them, may their souls and all the souls of the dearly departed rest forever in your peace, now and forever.

Amen

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I have spent far too much time watching and reading the news of late and I have been a little startled by the news coverage to be honest. There is the looming financial crisis in the form of the fiscal cliff in the United States of America that is threatening to drag them, Canada, and the rest of the world back into a crippling recession.

While the financial crisis of 2008 is still being felt not only here in Canada, but throughout all of Europe, as country after country comes to the edge of bankruptcy. Greece, Ireland, Spain tittering on the very precipice of financial collapse.

This past week workers throughout Europe walked off the job in a continent wide protest over austerity measures, spending cuts, loss of pensions and benefits as nation after nation seeks to get a grip on spending that is, quite frankly, out of control. Workers are clashing violently with governments and companies over the ever increasing income gap, as tough economic measures are being bourn on the back of the once prosperous middle class and low income earners while the rich and ultra rich seem free from such measures and their wealth continues to grow.

Meanwhile in Syria the violence is escalating. The civil war that has gripped that country for months now, continues to claim the lives of innocents. Civilians, women and children, are increasingly killed and the number of refuges has climbed to a quarter of million people spilling into neighboring countries.

The civil war itself and the violence it breeds has even spilled into other countries and territories. Rocket fire was exchanged from Syria and Israel in the Golan Heights for the first time since the 6 day war back in 1967.

And Israel and the Palestinian people in the Gaza strip are once again at war as violence there escalates. Rockets being fired at Jerusalem for the first time since the mid 70’s, the night pierced by air raid sirens in Tel Aviv and Israel responding with naval bombardment and air strikes in Gaza. The Israeli government is preparing for a ground invasion, has thousands of troops have been called into active service in an attempt to eliminate Hamas once and for all.

The Middle East from one corner to the next is embroiled in conflict and war, from Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Libya, Egypt, Syria, Israel, and many more. And Western powers and politicians seem ready and almost eager to jump into the conflict and continue to wage war throughout the world if you are to listen o the Hawks in Washington.

And then there are the earthquakes, hurricanes and floods that dominate the news, as the US eastern seaboard seeks to still recover from Hurricane Sandy and the west coast was recently rocked by earthquake and warnings were dispatched, as fears of Tsunamis would devastate the area. Global warming, increasingly sever weather patterns and destructive storms rage throughout the world and their effects are being felt in the economy, the food supply and the global markets.

And then we read this morning’s gospel and we stop, we pause and we shiver.

“As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

“When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?”

Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”

Mark’s “little apocalyptic message” here is meant to frighten the disciples and us but also to prepare them. Jesus here is talking about what is necessary to help bring about the kingdom of God. And it seems all so very terrifying, with war, famine, natural disasters and nation rising against nation. A world gone completely mad to be sure.

But this has always been the world that we live in, fallen and broken. Each generation throughout history has been able to point to these impeding “signs” of doom and say that Christ will return soon, repent and believe. And how many prophets have come among us, seeking to sell us salvation. They preach about when the world was good, before we, as a society, had lost our way and gone down such a morally dubious pathway. They point to these “signs” and say that Christ is coming, and judgment is on its way, repent and believe for the end is near.

Yet, they are partially right, for the kingdom of God is indeed on its way, my brothers and sisters, its is coming, it is immanent. Because it is into this world that Jesus sends you, the baptized. You see, this passage from Mark, is not about the end that is coming, but about the beginning, the beginning of something new, the beginning of God renewing his creation and his covenant with his people. It is about the beginning of what we are to do as followers of Jesus Christ. These are indeed the problems of the world and these are the problems that we will face and are sent to help make right. We are to be the peacemakers, the healers, the stewards of creation and the friends, companions and advocates to all those that are broken and suffering.

We are to build something new, a new kingdom, a new temple to Christ, not one of rough stone hewn from the earth. But we are to build a new temple, a new kingdom, comprised of living stones. And we are to do it not alone, but through the grace and mercy of God, for we have been joined to God through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit in baptism. We are to be the new temple, the body of Christ. We are to be living stones.

Listen to the words of Peter in his 1 letter the church.

“Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture:
‘See, I am laying in Zion a stone,
a cornerstone chosen and precious;
and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

Living stones, a new temple in the form of the body of Christ we are. My friends, the end is indeed coming and instead of lamenting the loss of a world that is broken, we should be glad indeed. For the end of the old world and the beginning of something new, the kingdom of God, is upon us.

From us, living stones, joined together with Christ in baptism, we will go forward into this broken and fallen world, not to judge it or condemn it; not to hide or shrink from the work that needs to be done; nor to sit idly by and wait for the coming of our Lord again. We are to participate in the building of the kingdom of God, not as creators ourselves, but the resurrected body of Christ, the church. Christ as the head, but each of us as the body.

And we are to go forward, into the world, the living stones and we are to become a living temple were the kingdom of God is realized, through us and in us.
The apocalypse is upon us.

Alleluia and amen.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, Oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Greetings to you this morning in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And greetings to you on this high holy day, when we come together to worship and celebrate the triune God, the Holy Trinity. That mystical union that exist between God the Father, world without end, the Son, Jesus Christ, the first born of all creation and the Holy Spirit, the giver and sustainer of life.

Today is called Trinity Sunday, and it is the Sunday each year that we celebrate the Triune God. And it is the Sunday when we come together to attempt to make sense of what it means to worship only one God, but to put faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and to trust that the spirit of God will be with us. It is the Sunday each year when we try to answer the question, how can three be one.

For centuries, we have as Christians, struggled with what it means to believe in Jesus, and also to profess the same statement of faith that the Torah requires of us, in the Decalogue, Ten Commandments, to have no other gods before our Lord and creator YHWH (Yahweh). No other Lord then Yahweh, Jehovah, God. But yet, we also accept that at the name of Jesus ever knee shall bow. That Jesus Christ is the Son of God, who we often refer to directly as the incarnate God. And we also worship and glorify the Holy Spirit, the gift of God presence to us that we receive in baptism, to always be with us, a part of us; and that we are joined to God, through Jesus in baptism by this same Holy Spirit.

So do we worship Jesus? Is the cross an Idol? Is the image of Christ upon the cross a graven image? Is it proper to ask the Holy Spirit to intervene in our lives? This question has torn the church apart for centuries. For example, the early church, the Eastern Church, what would come to be known as Greek Orthodox to us, created images, icons, to help people pray and worship God. The western church condemned these images and one of the first schisms in the church took place and the body of Christ was broken, divided.

And this question was also front and center in the debates between Protestants and Catholics during the reformation; between Martin Luther and Rome, between the Church of England and the continental Catholics and also was a question in the formation of our diocese, the diocese of Huron. Just how catholic should our expression of piety be? Is the Eucharist a veneration of false idols? Should we only preach the word and celebrate the Eucharist sporadically and only a few times a year? It is a question that has troubled us and a question that has led to divisions in the body of Christ, both in the Diocese of Huron, in the world wide commune of Anglicans and the church universal. How do we worship one God, with three persons?

It is also a bad question.

Language, many times, has been the cause of the problem. Translations and miscommunications have lead to wars, disagreements and arguments that have consumed the church and its people for centuries. And it continues today.

And when it comes to the Trinity, we have been for far too long, subject to bad translations that have lead too much ink being spilled over theological interpretations, not mention blood between catholic and protestants. Allow me to explain. As many of you know, a joke won’t translate from language to language. The meaning is somehow lost in translation.

When St Paul wrote about the persons of the trinity, he wrote in Greek and used the word, prosopon. This word is used to describe the face or mask that actor would wear in a stage production in ancient Greece. It is meant to represent the face that is seen by the audience, the mask the actor wears, the prosopon.

Paul’s meaning and intention, I believe, seems to indicate that there is one God, but with different faces that we see and come to know. There is God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. That they are in effect one, but with different faces for us humans to see and experience. The actor beneath of of course is one person, being of one substance.

When the bible was translated into Latin there was no word that was equivalent to prosopon in Latin. Instead the word persona was chosen and used to represent the Trinity. Which then lead to the development of three separate personas or three persons once the text arrived in English. Separate, distinct but related. And this translation miscue has lead to theological debates and arguments in Christianity for centuries but more importantly it has led to a separation between God and us.

Seeing each person of the Trinity as separate and distinctly other has lead far to many people to seeing the Trinity in certain was. God as separate and other, Jesus as someone who came, died and rose again and then ascended to heaven and is gone, for now. Our relationship with God comes through the Spirit only. That God sent Jesus and Jesus sent the spirit and this spirit joins us to God in a covenantal relationship through baptism.

We focus on the spirit in our times and not on Christ. We forget that God acts in the world today, like he did when he first created it, when he freed the Israelites from Egypt and led his people to the Promised Land. How he continued to send them prophets and to work in their lives. And finally how he incarnated himself in the form of Jesus Christ, to walk among them, heal them, and die for them and for us on the cross and then rose again so that all may have eternal life.

And while it may seem confusing at times, we must at all times remember that we come together to worship not God, or Jesus or the Spirit, but one God. We worship a God who is active in our world and in our lives today. We worship a God that incarnated himself so that we may be joined to him in baptism and who continues to incarnate himself through us each and every time we join another to us in baptism.

Today we come to worship the triune God. Three faces, three prosopons, but one actor beneath, one substance, one God.

Amen.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, Oh Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

What is the cost of discipleship and what are you willing to pay to follow Christ?

These are some fundamental questions that arise out of our gospel passage this morning. The focus for this passage so often is that of the Apostle Andrew and how becoming a fisher of people like Andrew; that by following Christ we learn to become evangelist who will fulfill the great commission to preach the gospel, continue in the breaking of the bread and the prayers and baptizing new believers in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

But underlying this passage is how far the disciples will go to follow Christ. What they are willing to leave behind; which is literally everything they have ever known to follow Christ. Simon and Andrew walk away from their boast, their nets, their trade, their business and their very livelihood. They just walk away from everything they have ever known, all they had worked for to follow Christ.

And then Jesus calls James and John, the sons of Zebedee, and they also leave their boats, but also they leave their father. They just walk away from their family and leave their father with a hired man. They must have been quite prosperous to have a hired man, someone who worked for them. We often think of the disciples as poor peasants willing to follow Christ, in hopes of a better life, yet the gospel passage challenges that very idea this morning. The disciples are business people, job creators and owners of boats with employees. They are not elites, in the halls of power, not the 1% to borrow a term from the Occupy Wall Street movement, but they are prosperous people, well off and they have something to lose, something that they give up to follow Christ.

During the Apartheid years in South Africa, black society was very complicated as the people struggled for their freedom. They would gather each day at St George Cathedral in Cape Town as they prepare to protest. They would bring food to the cathedral, medical supplies and many times their bedding for a long stay as they would sleep in the church for days, that was until they could slip away to get back home and away from government officials, police and soldiers.

Each day the protesters would go out and march upon the government buildings in non-violent protest against the Apartheid government. And each day the police and the army would attack them with clubs, tear gas, water canons, rubber bullets and far to often real bullets. The protesters would risk their lives for their freedom. And the army would chase the protesters back to the cathedral, where the protesters ran to, to seek refuge and safety in the sanctuary and in the house of God.

Not all would make it though. Some would be caught, arrested and detained as enemies of the state and suffer horribly in jail. Meanwhile the army would chase the protesters to the very doors of the church were they would encounter each day, Bishop Desmond Tutu, standing in the doorway of the cathedral in his purple cassock watching, and making sure the government, the army with their weapons, would never dare to enter the house of God.

And each day the army would stop and retreat from this one man and all that he represented. Bishop Tutu was and is an impressive and imposing figure, even if he is a small man in physical stature. And in many ways he had much to lose, power among his people and power in South Africa, standing in the Christian community and in the worldwide communion of Anglicans. Yet to follow Christ, he was willing to sacrifice all of this and so much more.

During those years, there was so much violence and so much lose of life. And it was perpetuated all around. In the black community violence of black against black was common. Especially if you were seen to be or worse caught to be a collaborator with the Apartheid government. There was a practice among the people, amongst the blacks, called necklacing.

If you were an informer, someone who traded information on your own people to the white government for money, food or even for the freedom of your family members, this was a dangerous situation to be in. If found out then the people of the community would not only shunned you but eventually they would attack you. They would take an old tire, soak it in petrol, in gasoline and place this tire around your neck and shoulders and then light the tire on fire. You would burn and die in the streets and no Samaritan would stop to help you. It was a horrible way to die, burning with people simply watching. It was meant as a visible deterrent for other blacks, what could happen if you betrayed your people to the government.

One day as Bishop Tutu was driving through the townships on his way back to his home after a protest, he screamed at his driver to pull the car over. He had seen the beginning of a person about to be necklaced. He lept from his car and sprinted down the muddy street, his purple cassock comically flapping behind him as he ran down the streets of the township and forced his way through the angry mob who were abusing and beating this man, who most likely had sold some information on his people to the Apartheid government. This traitor to the cause and all that Bishop Tutu stood for each and every day as he faced the army at the cathedral, it was to this traitor that Bishop Tutu ran to.

Bishop Tutu forced his way into the middle, to the man who had a gasoline soaked tire around his neck and shoulders, and as he lay on the ground and his attackers stood around him about to light the match, Bishop Tutu did the only thing he could, he through himself on top of the man to offer only his body as protection and in doing so he now wore a purple gasoline soaked cassock, while people stood around him with torches.

What was Tutu willing to give up to follow the teachings of Christ, his power, his prestige and his life as a spiritual leader of the community? Bishop Tutu was willing to sacrifice this and more. He was willing, as the body of Christ in the world, to break himself open for others; to offer his life in exchange, as ransom for others. A radical act for sure, but a Christian act.

When Jesus asked Simon and Andrew, and the sons of Zebedee to follow him, he is asking them to follow him not only to learn his teachings and hear the word of God, he is asking them to follow him to the cross, and to offer themselves up as a sacrifice for others. He is leading them to a place where they are to lose their life so that they may gain it back. A place where sacrifice and care for your neighbor, outweighs personal gain and even personally safety.

And as followers of Christ, we to are being asked this very same thing. We are being asked to follow Christ to the cross, where we too will offer ourselves up for others, where we will break ourselves open, literally and figuratively, so that others may be nourished, cared for and have life.

These are not figurative notions or metaphors, but a way of living. They are a turning away from this world and the material gains and trappings and a turning towards God. It is caring for our brothers and sisters, even if it means sacrificing some of our means to do it. Sacrificing a new TV, a new Iphone or a new car this year. It means following Christ is about more then listening to sermons and coming to church but a willingness to break one self open, to be bread for others and if necessary to throw ones body on top of another to save a life, even if that means we will lose our own life. Whether that life is the life of a business owner, a fisherman with employees and family or the life of a bishop.

So let us bow our heads in prayer.

Almighty and everliving God, We most heartily thank thee That thou dost graciously feed us, in these holy mysteries, With the spiritual food of the most precious body and blood Of thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ; Assuring us thereby of thy favour and goodness towards us; And that we are living members of his mystical Body, Which is the blessed company of all faithful people; And are also heirs through hope of thy everlasting kingdom. And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, Ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee. And although we are unworthy, Yet we beseech thee to accept this our bounden duty and service, Not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offences; Through Jesus Christ our Lord, To whom, with thee and the Holy Spirit, be all honour and glory, World without end. Amen

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts always be acceptable in your sight, oh lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Good evening and welcome to St Andrew Memorial on this, the patronal feast of St Andrew. We come together tonight to worship and to offer our thanks and praise to our God for all that God has done in our lives and in the life of this parish, St Andrew Memorial, for these past 70 years.

And we ground that worship in our historical traditions, celebrating a BCP evensong with much thanks to Andrew Keegan Mackriell and Angus Sinclair and the Cathedral Choir of St Paul’s. It is with much gratitude and deep appreciation that I offer you Andrew, Angus and the Choir the thanks of the entire parish as you help us worship and celebrate 70 years of ministry here on the corner of Wellington and Foxbar.

As I reflected upon the scriptures as to what I would say on this glorious anniversary I was drawn to the reading from Ezekiel (47:1-12). The image of water flowing forth from the temple to nourish all of creation captured my mind and reminded me of the waters of the river Jordan, flowing, and in which John would baptized our Lord and Savior, marking the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry hear on earth and amongst us. And it is through baptism that we are joined to the life of Christ. We die to our old selves and are born again to a new life in Christ. In us we carry that divine spark, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and in a very real way we become part, enactors and contributors to the kingdom of God; the body of Christ.

A baptismal life is the kind of life that signifies that Christ is indeed part of us, that Christ is in us, guiding us daily and working through us to help bring about the kingdom of God. It is to live a life of service and giving, dedicated to others; dedicated to family, friends and to a community of faith. The marks of the Christian life are, at its core, service; service to God and service to neighbors. They take their cue from the two greatest commandments, to love God with all your heart, all your mind, all your strength and all your soul and to love your neighbor as your self.

And just as Jesus was and is joined to the Father through the trinity, we are joined to that mystical union of Father, Son and Holy Spirit though the very same Jesus Christ, in which we become part of the heavenly family; the precious Sons and Daughters of God. We belong to Christ; it is he whose we are. It he who we belong to and it is his life of healing and reconciliation that we share in, not just for ourselves, but for all of creation.

In the waters of baptism, in the Holy Sacrament, we transcend time and space and we exist as part of the redeemed and transformed creation. We become citizens of the heavenly city and are assured of our redemption through the one perfect and true sacrifice of Christ upon the cross, where our sins and the debt for those sins has been paid.

But there is a danger, a danger in believing that we are no longer of this world; that this world is behind us and we can ignore it or turn our back upon the suffering, the lame, the beggar, the widow or the orphan. This is simply not the case. Jesus reminds us that as the Father as sent him into the world too transform it, now Jesus is sending us and we are to take up that mission and help transform this broken world, this earthly city into a heavenly city. We are to be the grain that gives up its life so that others may grow in the faith.

We therefore exist here and now, but also in the heavenly city with our Lord and Father. But how do we transform this city, this world into a place that more closely reflects the kingdom of God as inaugurated by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ but also know the kingdom of God is not yet realized? How do we live in both the now and the not yet, the realized and the yet to be, here on the earthly city while still being citizens of the heavenly city? Not of this world, but sent to it by Christ to help it transform into the kingdom of God, that heavenly city.

Let me illustrate this idea of how we can help transform the earthly city by using a Richard Strauss’ opera, Ariadne auf Naxos, as an example. The action of the opera is set in the house of the richest man in Vienna, who is busy throwing a feast for numerous guests. The host is a man of indiscriminate taste. He has scheduled dinner to be followed by not one, but two performances, one a tragic opera and the other a comedy.

The pompous composer of the tragic opera is outraged when he discovers that his masterwork is to be followed by such a frivolous offering as a comedy. The situation becomes much worse for the composer when he learns that, in order to leave time for the fireworks display at the end of the evening, both the tragedy and the comedy will have to be performed simultaneously, on the same stage.

The composer objects to the other “actors” infiltrating his tragedy, as the tragedy “is the symbol of Mankind in Solitude.” The lord of the house though, having seen the tragedy wants to enliven it with characters from the comedy.

So as the curtain rises on the second act of Strauss’ opera, Ariadne is at the grotto grieving her abandonment by her lover Theseus. Ariadne resolves to await Hermes, the messenger of death, to take her away to the underworld, the realm of death, for in death is peace and the cessation of suffering and corruption. However, Zerbinetta and her troupe of comedians interrupt Ariadne’s tragedy and alter the direction of the entire opera. Zerbinetta tries to convince Ariadne that she wants not death, but a new lover.

On the scene comes the rakish young god Bacchus, whom Ariadne at first mistakes for the messenger of death. Eventually, however, she is won by his wooing, and she embraces life instead of death, as he carries her off to the heavens. Bacchus has the last word, proclaiming “By thy great sorrow rich am I made… And sooner shall perish the stars in their places, than Death shall tear thee from my arms.”

It is the tragedy of the earthly city, the world around us, we have been sent to perform our comedy of redemption. We, the community of Christ joined to him in baptism, are like Zerbinatta and her troupe of comedic actors. We are the fouls that interrupt the tragedy of the world, the hurt, the pain, the suffering and death with the message of hope, salvation and eternal life for all those that choose. We are the fouls that break down barriers of hate, violence and death with eternal life and love for all people as found in our Lord and Savior.

We are the grain of wheat that falls into the earth and dies so that much fruit may be harvested. And we have been dying for the past 70 years for a bountiful harvest indeed. We died so that we could build a new church in 1957. We died when we renovated this church and made it accessible for all of God’s children. We died when we converted our empty lot into a community garden for our neighbors. And we will continue to die and offer ourselves, our souls and our bodies, so that the kingdom of God can and will be slowly realized here at St Andrew Memorial, a small piece of the world changed by our comedy of redemption.

And as we look to the future and the next 70 years we are ready to offer ourselves to God in service, service to God and service to neighbor. We cast our eyes to the next harvest, grounded in our traditions but ever willing and present to explore new ways of making God’s love known to all. And we continue to look for new ways to die so that the harvest may be bountiful and the kingdom grow and flourish out of our sacrifices.

With just one seed, one grain, one of you, one committee, one community of faith, like St Andrew Memorial, the broken world we live in, the tragedy that surrounds us, will choose life and been redeemed and the world will be changed. How will you offer yourself to service and to God at St Andrew Memorial in the coming years so that the next harvest continues to be just as bountiful?

Amen.

Welcome to the Rogue Preacher’s sermon section. Below are some highlights, some sermons I enjoyed preaching and some sermon highlights. I won’t post every sermon I preach, but check back from time to time to see some I am particularly proud of.