"A House of Prayer for All Nations--That Means You" August 7, 2011--Pride Sunday in River City

Isaiah 56:1-7
Thus says our God: Maintain justice, and do what is right, for soon my salvation will come, and my deliverance be revealed.  Happy is the human who does this, the one who holds it fast, who keeps the sabbath, not profaning it, and refrains from doing any evil.  Do not let the foreigner joined to God say, "The Holy One will surely separate me from God’s people"; and do not let the eunuch say, "I am just a dry tree."   For thus says our God: To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant,  I will give, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.   And the foreigners who join themselves to the Holy One, to minister to God, to love the name of God, and to be God’s servants, all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant-- these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”

Mark 11:15-19
 Then Jesus and his disciples came to Jerusalem. And Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers."  And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching.  And when evening came, Jesus and his disciples went out of the city.

I would ask you to pray with and for me. Holy One of all nations, be with us now. Open our hearts, minds and spirits to the truth you would have us hear. Give us grace to see as you see—to know that all human beings are your children, that all are welcome in your house, at your table of grace—that you do not exclude, hate or deny anyone. Open our eyes to your presence in all those around us, even those who hurt us or anger us; may we see and understand with your heart and your love. In your many names, amen.

A house of prayer for all nations. Isaiah quotes God saying it, Jesus repeats it.

All nations.

We know, most of us, where we belong.  Sometimes we cross those borders—as they say, everyone is Irish on March 17! But we know where we belong—we have our certainties of kinship and tribe. For those of you who are gay, bisexual or lesbian, do you remember the first time you went to an LGBT gathering? Maybe it was the women’s potluck, or a bar; perhaps it was a friend’s party. Do you remember the sense of belonging, suddenly? Of knowing, “yes, these are my people and I am home.”

I have felt the same way in other situations too—have you? I’ll admit to a large dollop of geekiness and say I felt that way the first time I stepped into a science fiction convention. I feel that way in some churches, too—and always in book stores.

Maybe for you it’s a yoga studio, or a stage; or your garden. For others, a sailboat, a barn, a woodshop.

It’s that sense of knowing that you are home—that you are among your own who love and support you and even if they disagree with you, are allied with you.  There might be internal disagreements, but woe betide the outsider who dares to attack one of you!

That’s a tribe—our tribe, as the moderator—the head—of Metropolitan Community Churches, Rev. Nancy Wilson put it.

But—and this is what Jesus is pointing out here—God’s place is for all people. Tribes and divisions do not matter in God’s house, because all those borders and boundaries are transcended before God, who created all of us, without borders or limits.

Jesus was not upset and offended that there was commerce going on in the Temple—it was necessary for the people to buy animals for the sacrifices and to obtain the temple coins for their donations. He’s angry because outrageous profits are being made at the expense of the people. “Thieves,” he calls the sellers. Not that they were selling, but that they were taking more than they should. And by selling at high prices, they were drawing lines around who could afford to worship God as they were commanded—they were making it impossible for some people to be able to fulfill God’s laws.

Jesus did not exclude on the basis of income or station in life. Now, I have to be honest here and admit that yes, for a good part of his ministry Jesus did limit his teaching to his fellow Jewish people—but he learned from a woman who challenged him—the Syro-Phonecian woman—who said to him, in effect, “You may insult me and call me a dog, but even a dog is part of the household and deserves to be cared for.” And Jesus realised she was right, and opened his teaching to all people. And always, he was in the company of marginalized people—the poor, the homeless, sex workers, fishermen, widows—the ones on the edges of polite society.

“God’s house should be a house of prayer for all people.”

There are some today who would close God’s house to certain people—people who don’t speak the same language, or live in the same country, or marry the same people as they do. People who are different, in other words. Such people are drawing the lines of tribes too closely. Instead of support and care, their boundaries of tribe, of nation, are strangling and suffocating. Too many churches deny the gifts of their own people, because they are—well, you name it. Women, or they don’t speak the “right” language, or they are gay, or not from the “right” country or don’t have skin the “right” colour, or they are lesbian, or transgender or not educated or… Humans can come up with amazing lists of people they feel are not worthy.

But that is not God’s plan; it is not God’s intention that anyone be turned away from God’s house. All of us are welcome in God’s house, part of God’s family. Even those whom the world despises—or maybe especially those the world despises—will be elevated, welcomed, into God’s house of prayer.

God does not turn anyone away. If you have been told you are not “good enough” in some way, that you must change who you are, that you may not express who you are in church—turn away from those who tell you that. Because God made you as you are—beautiful, amazing, and good. Yes, there are behaviours we need to change—we all have actions and deeds we are ashamed of, when we have hurt others, or been untrue to our own standards and morals. But we should not be ashamed of who God made us to be, whether we are made lesbian, disabled,  straight, black,  left-handed, bisexual, Latino, gay, red-headed, transgendered, two-spirited…any of the ways the world likes to slot people away, mark them as less-than, different and unworthy.

When we give in to the shaming of these people, these institutions that dare to call themselves Godly, we are denying the very gifts of God in our lives—the gift of who we are as God made us. When we hide who we are, who we love, how we know we should be living, we are saying that God screwed up, that we are not as we should be—that we are mistakes, we are errors. God, my sisters and brothers, does not make trash.

Everyone of you is fearfully and wonderfully made, in the very image of God—beautiful, lovely in God’s sight, worthy of love and life and all the gifts God has to offer you—a partner who loves you truly, a life of fulfillment, hope and peace, friends who care and support you, a community of mutual support, an amazing world to live in—and a loving God of grace to love and worship.

A house of prayer for all nations. That means you and me, brothers and sisters—everyone of us here in this tent, on this riverfront, in this city, this nation, this continent, this world. All of us—straight, Muslim, two-spirited, poor, Christian, black, bisexual, disabled, Buddhist, lesbian, educated, rich, Latino, Jewish, gay, Asian, unionized or not—every one of us has a place in God’s house of prayer, at God’s table, at God’s feast.  God created each of us in love, and that love welcomes us home to this feast of hope and joy in God’s house, which is for all nations.

Remember this, sisters and brothers. Next time you are made to feel that you are less than—whether it is because of your skin colour, the language you speak, who you love, how you earn a living—whatever it is—know that God made you as you are, intended you to be as you are, and declared you good. Claim that goodness, that God spark in yourself, that knowledge that God made and loves and claims you as God’s own and do not allow yourself to be turned away from God’s house, for it is for all nations—even yours, even ours, even theirs—for all nations.

In the name of our loving God, amen.

Loaves and Fishes: What's in Your Basket? July 31, 2011, Pentecost 7

Romans 9:1-5

I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit—I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh. They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.

Matthew 14:13-21

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to Jesus and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, Jesus looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

***

Will you pray with me? Generous God, open our hearts so that we might share all that we have and are, even when we think it’s not enough, not good enough or is not needed. Open our eyes to the treasures we have within us—gifts, talents, graces, abilities, parts of us we don’t really think are even worthy of mention—but gifts and abilities our sisters and brothers need desperately. Give us courage to share them, to use them in your service, that we may see your realm on earth. In the name of your child, Jesus, our saviour, guide and friend, amen.

A little more than a year after I moved to River City, a friend called me. She had struck up a friendship with a young man—a youth, really, all of 16 or 17 years old—who hung out in the same coffee-shop she did. He had come to trust her and told her his story. When she heard it, she contacted me. He had been evicted from his parents’ home because he was gay and now had nowhere to go. She and I both knew what often happens to gay youth in that situation and she was trying to help him find an alternative to the streets. I knew of an inexpensive apartment that was available, and when I spoke to the landlord—who had often volunteered with Bog Brothers/Big Sisters and knew the score too—he was willing to rent it for what the youth received for rent from social services. So the young man had a safe place to live, but no employment and nothing to put in his apartment.  Another member of the community offered him an apprenticeship in his chosen field and mentored him, monitoring his schoolwork as well as his training. Our church helped furnish his apartment, everything from lamps to towels and dishes. Other community members, gay and straight, brought clothes, furniture, advice and support.This young man was surrounded by caring people who gave of what they had. He thrived and is now on his own, doing well in his chosen profession elsewhere in Canada.

Loaves and fishes.

None of us alone could have helped him in any meaningful way. But together, as a community—a chance friend in the coffee shop, a small business owner, church members, a landlord, neighbours—we came together and offered him a second chance, an alternative view of the world, new options in how to live and how to treat others. When he was first kicked out, living in the only place he thought he could afford, with crack pipes in the tub in the shared washroom and no locks on the doors, I am sure he thought the situation was hopeless, that there was no way out for him. And then he found that many people wanted to help him. There was a way.

Loaves and fishes.

I have some sympathy for Jesus here. He’s just heard that Herod has executed Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptist. He’s been preaching to his followers for days. He’s tried to go off by himself to mourn his losses and rest, to no avail. And now his disciples want him to feed this crowd?

But patiently, Jesus teaches them that they can do more than they think they can—important preparation for when he will no longer be with them . “You feed them,” he says to the disciples. He wants them to look around, take the initiative, find the way where there seems to be no way—to find out what the people—the congregation—have to share. Not what they, the disciples, can conjure out of the air or make themselves—but what they can find in the congregation, the people.

Loaves and fishes.

We do the same thing—we are so much like the disciples. We think there is no way out—we think there are no options, no solution. We’re hungry for—what? Healing—physical, emotional, spiritual. We are looking for friendship, or hope, a job, spiritual insight, love, or maybe a release from addiction. Maybe we’re in an unhealthy relationship or struggling with grief. We tell ourselves we can’t do what we need to do to change the situation—we can’t leave the relationship because of our financial situation, or our physical illness is chronic and can’t be cured, or we are terrified of life without whatever our chosen substance of abuse is (food, nicotine, drugs, alcohol)—and we’re right. We can’t change the situation, not on our own. But with God, and with a community, there is nothing we cannot do. If we look to our community, we will find the hope and support and love we need. It is there we will find brothers and sisters who also struggle with addictions, who will support us with the tough love we need to leave those addictions behind. It is among our friends in community we will find understanding of the spiritual struggles we face, and new insight—as we can offer them insight. The people around us can offer emotional strength and support as we struggle free of the unhealthy relationship, as we come to terms with our chronic illnesses and learn to live with them. Those around us—in these very chairs, and the ones who could not be here today but whom we know and love—they offer exactly what we need.

And the other side of that coin is that we offer them what they need, too. It is your smile, your hug, that reminds a despairing brother that he is good, and not the terrible person he is told he is by the faith tradition he grew up in. It’s your conversation over coffee that lets the person struggling with cancer know that she is not alone in her fear and despair. It’s your hands helping a person move from an unhealthy living situation; it’s your story, shared over a meal, that gives a sister courage to resist the siren call of her addiction.

Loaves and fishes.

Jesus didn’t turn stones into bread and snakes into fish. He did not provide the loaves and fishes. The disciples didn’t go into town and buy fish and bread. They didn’t provide the food either. The community, the people, those listening to Jesus—they shared what they had. It started with those five loaves and two fish; but it was enough. The disciples went to them and asked—which means they became friends with them, shared with them, were part of the community themselves—because you can’t ask that sort of thing of strangers.

We each have gifts, talents, skills—something we can share with others. Perhaps it’s the gift of music, or of preaching; maybe it’s administration, or simply listening. Maybe it’s the gift of organizing or the ability to analyze a situation and see what path is most productive. Perhaps we are powerful pray-ers, or good cooks; maybe we love hands-on repair and construction work. We may not even think of it as a gift, or as anything special. But every one of us has something to give, and every one of our gifts is needed.

It’s no mistake that we gather around a table to share a meal as part of our community gathering—communion, the Lord’s Supper, Eucharist.  Every family reunion, large or small, is focussed on food—Aunt Kay’s potato salad, Uncle Sam’s fried chicken, Mom’s brownies. I visited a website recently that featured churches which had been converted into homes—and they were very creatively done, I must say. Almost without exception, the chancel—the part of the church where the altar usually is—was used in  the homes as the dining area. Even the non-religious recognise that sharing a meal is sacred, a way of being intimate, of tightening those bonds of family, friendship and love that connect a community.

Loaves and fishes. Share yours with God’s people.

Loaves and fishes. Receive the gifts of God’s people as they seek to lift you up.

In the name of our ever-generous God, amen.

Like a Pebble in Your Shoe; Pentecost 6, July 24, 2011

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Jesus put before them another parable: “The realm of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in a field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” He told them another parable: “The realm of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

“The realm of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. “Again, the realm of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. Again, the realm of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. “Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And Jesus said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the realm of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

**
Will you pray with me? Loving God, pour out your grace on us today. Open our hearts and spirits to speak and hear your truth and love; all that you would have us know, that we may work more effectively to bring about your realm here on earth. We ask in your own mighty name, amen.

Wow, this reading sounds like some of my sermons—just all over the place, trying several different metaphors trying to explain or even just discuss the realm of God. A mustard seed, the realm of God is like a mustard seed—or no, it’s like some bread dough—wait, it’s more like a treasure, a pearl…or maybe it’s a netful of fish…

Human language cannot really explain the things of God. I think we all understand that. The best we can do is use metaphors, images, ideas of what God’s realm is like. And so Matthew has come up with this array of images—mustard seed, yeast, hidden treasure in a field, pearl, a pile of fish. If that’s not a bunch of unconnected images, I don’t know what is! 

And yet…these all do have something in common. Matthew is trying to convey the idea of something seemingly small, hidden, inconsequential at first glance, something that needs discernment and understanding to see and claim. 

That mustard seed—it’s small, but once it’s planted, it grows tall. A little bit of yeast is all you need to make a lot of bread—and don’t forget bread was the main food item in those days. Jesus is indulging in hyperbole here, by the way—there are smaller seeds than mustard seeds and it never grows into an actual tree, and there’s no way that yeast could leaven the whole amount of flour.  But that exaggeration emphasizes the point—minor, insignificant things can in fact be very important.

A hidden treasure—how valuable could it really be if someone has forgotten about it and someone else can just stumble on it in the countryside? And yet it is valuable enough for the finder to buy the whole field in order to get it.

That pearl of great price…a tiny thing, easily crushed or damaged—and yet the merchant sells off everything else she has in order to get it—to put all her resources into this one small pearl. Not good business is it? It speaks of a passion—for the perfect, for the ideal, for a willingness to sacrifice everything for a goal.
Finally, those fish… The fishers were using what’s called a seine net—you pull it through the water and gather up everything that’s too big to get through the meshes. So then they had to sit down on the shore and sort it all out. There were, I am sure, old bottles, and sticks, and a worn-out sandal someone threw away, and turtles and some broken pottery and algae mats and fish that were not good eating and fish that were good eating. But they didn’t try to sort them out until afterwards—until the whole catch had been brought in—and when it comes to us, it’s not human beings who do that sorting but angels. There’s a saying I’ve always disliked, usually associated with the military—“kill them all and let God sort them out.” I’d rather change that to “Bring them all in and let God sort them out.” 

The realm of God is like that, too—gathering all the people together, regardless of whether they are seen as valuable or worthless or somewhere in the middle. God knows their worth. And after all, even the bottles could be used as a flower vase and some turtles make good soup. 

But the truth here is that important things, good things, valuable things, can come from small beginnings or look like they are worthless. A tiny seed, a turtle, an empty field; or a few disciples who were not well-educated, wealthy or important. The smallest things, the most insignificant acts can change the way people look at each other and the relationship they have with God.

I spent much of yesterday afternoon at a fundraiser—a cruise on the River. The majority of attendees were not people whom we will probably ever see here in our service—some are simply not interested in church, others have churches they attend already, some we see from time to time, a few are opposed to churches. But my presence there spoke to them in a different way—even if they weren’t aware of it, even if it was on an unconscious level. A pastor, on the river cruise, dancing to the DJ, friends with many of them, talking, laughing, bantering, and yes, drinking a Mike’s Cranberry Lemonade…I was there, I was present for them, sharing their lives and their experiences. It may have been a mustard seed—or a pebble in their shoes, reminding them of God’s presence there, not so much in me but in each one of them—that tiny pebble that won’t go away, but reminds you of its presence with each step. 

It’s telling that I am often told by members of the community that I am their pastor, or this is their church, when they have no formal ties to the church.  What they do have are ties of affection, of understanding that here they are welcome and loved and wanted, even if they choose not to come, or not to come regularly. They know that if they decide to come, they have a place to come to worship. From such little things, seemingly insignificant, great things can grow. 

And you know, this is not simply a denominational thing. When I served two small country churches as a Methodist pastor, many people had the same sense about those churches. There was no town cemetery, so every one was buried in Waterside UMC on one side of the ridge or Countryside UMC on the other side. Most of the families didn’t belong to either church, but they still felt as if they were “their” church—there for them when they needed a church. Those small churches were pebbles, too—reminding people of God’s presence, always.

My sisters and brothers, consider this. Are you a pebble in someone’s shoe? Is this church a pebble? 

Are we intentional about being those seeds, that pearl, the fish in the net? Are we reminding the people around us of God’s presence with them—always?
There are so many ways to do that, many of them very simple. Just by behaving in ways that are Christian—caring for others by not gossiping or tearing down, showing respect for our sisters and brothers and ourselves in our actions, lifting others up who are in need—that sets an example, a counter-example to those who claim the name Christian and yet act in very un-Christlike ways. When the topic of spirituality arises in conversation with friends, strangers, family--mention church—that you go, that you go to church,  your role at church is—you usher, you serve communion, you were once on the board. 

That simple knowledge of you—someone who has a face to them—as a Christian who attends church means more than all the sermons, than all the glitzy campaigns or fancy buildings. It’s a mustard seed, a pearl—a hidden treasure.

In all God’s many names, amen.

"Watching What We Weed"

Pentecost 5

Romans 8:12-25

So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh— for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him. I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Matt 13:24-30, 36-43

Jesus put before them another parable: “The realm of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in a field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the servants of the householder came and said, ‘Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ The householder answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The servants said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’

Then Jesus left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Human One; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of God’s realm; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Human One will send his angels, and they will collect out of his realm all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in God’s realm. Let anyone with ears listen!

******

Will you pray with me? Loving God, teach us to be loving and forgiving, to understand that we do not see as you see and that your ways are wiser than ours. You do not see what the world sees, what humans see—you see the truth, you understand our hidden ways and you know when a weed is really wheat. In all your names, amen.

We seem to be on a farming streak in our readings! Last week the reading was about seeds and planting lots of them so they would grow. This week we’re talking about weeds!

One thing we should know about this parable of Jesus—tares, the word translated “weeds” in the reading, are a plant that looks a lot like wheat until it’s very close to harvest time. And they are poisonous, so you can’t just bring them in with the rest of the crop. What a predicament—poisonous, but they look just like the plants you want to keep; you have to keep away from the poison, but they are mixed in with the good. Does that sound like anything in your life?

I think the world is a lot like that wheat field—weeds and wheat all mixed together, and only God and the angels can tell the difference before harvest-time.

I am a huge fan of JRR Tolkien and his trilogy The Lord of the Rings. One of the main characters, Aragorn, is a hidden king who appears when his people’s need is the greatest—a familiar theme in legends. In the book The Fellowship of the Ring, four of the main characters, traveling in great danger and trying to avoid a fearful enemy,  meet Aragorn at an inn, and when he attempts to befriend them, are suspicious because he doesn’t seem to be the sort of person who would be on their side. Tolkien, who was not a bad poet, included this poem about Aragorn.

All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost 

In other words, Aragorn may appear quite foul—weatherbeaten, ragged, grim, even threatening—but this is the king who is to be, and he will help them in their time of need—and indeed, he saves their lives that very night. He looks like a weed, but is in fact the finest wheat. 

Now, Jesus says the “realm of God” is like that wheat field—the good and the bad, the healthy and the dangerous, we’re all mixed up together, and only God can sort us out. The realm of God is a place Jesus clearly feels everyone should want to be—and yet it doesn’t seem to be as much like paradise as one might expect. This parable also suggests that things are not as clear-cut as some people would like them to be—life is not an either-or proposition, up or down, good or bad, yes or no. It’s mixed, not only in general, but—in fact—within ourselves.

None of us are pure wheat or pure weeds. And sometimes it’s hard to pull the weeds—those parts of us we don’t like to think about—without destroying the wheat—the parts of us we are proud of, at least in this world. I can be very stubborn and mulish—which is a weed. On the other hand, that very stubbornness keeps me working when others would have given up or not even begun, and often leads me to find a solution when I thought it was impossible. Sometimes a person is very outspoken—which can be difficult if she’s too blunt and hurts feelings or angers people. But that same person can also challenge people who need to face issues or to realize that their way is not the only way. What we see as a weed God may see as wheat—and vice versa. It sometimes takes a while and more maturity to see what is truly wheat and weed—it sometimes isn’t until the harvest that we can see the truth.

So—wheat and weed. But the point of the parable is not so much about the fact that we are a mixture of weed and wheat, and the world, too, is both healthy and dangerous. I think it’s more about the servants who wanted to try to pull those weeds too early, before they could really tell which was which.

Isn’t that a temptation for us? Are we like those servants, thinking we know exactly who is weed and who is wheat? Do we look at someone and think there’s no way that person is wheat? The Fred Phelpses, the Jerry Falwells, the opposition leaders, the homophobes and the white supremacists, the fundamentalists of any religion and none, anyone who promotes hate of others, who hurts other people—whether physically emotionally, or politically—those are the ones we think must be weeds. 

It’s so hard to remember that even those—even the ones who want to hurt us, and do hurt us—they too are children of God and in God’s eyes, their wheat-ness may outweigh their weed-ness. We do not know until that final harvest day which it is—and we do not know that about ourselves, either. If we pray and hope and have confidence that God will see our wheat-ness—all the good intentions, the holy acts, the loving relationships, the reconciliations, the mutual support—if we think God will see past our errors and mistakes, then we have to think God will do no less for others, even those who hurt us. For if God is a God who sees to the heart, then God sees not just to our heart, but to the heart of every person—and pulls out the weeds, but cherishes the wheat in every human heart, even the ones we humans believe cannot possibly have any wheat in their hearts.

I am not saying so much that we should forgive people who treat us badly—although Jesus does say that. The focus here, I think, is on realizing that we don’t know—we simply cannot know—who is wheat and who is weed in God’s eyes. So the Realm of God is not so much that only wheat is found there but that we all are aware that we are both wheat and weed, and content to allow God to be God and wait for God to pull out those weeds—in our hearts and in other peoples’—when the time is right. 

It’s about judging—or, more accurately, about NOT judging, not deciding we know who is godly and who is not. We are not the ones who will be doing the weeding!

Our call is to cultivate the wheat in our own lives and in the world—to starve those weeds, but also recognize that they have power and may in fact be wheat someday—God knows, we cannot. 

Trust God to know the difference—trust God to heal the weeds until they are wheat, and to harvest all together in God’s good time. 

In all God’s names, amen.

Catching Up For the Umpteenth Time...

Having briefly moved away from River City, I am now back where I feel I belong. I've found a lovely nest of an apartment (only word for it; a small one-bedroom perched on the top floor, airy and tree-shaded), and am settling in.

While my reasons for moving away were complicated, my reason for moving back is much simpler--this is where I need to be. For my calling, for the church I serve, for my mental and physical health, I need to be here. And so, with some difficulty, here I am!

And I must thank some folks for helping me to take this step--I made the decision, they gave me the assistance to do it. I was given a place to stay--safe, comfortable, caring, a haven in every sense of the word--when I was in desperate need. Physical labour in moving my belongings under circumstances both physically and emotionally difficult. Shelter for my things, which, while they are only things, nonetheless are meaningful and necessary (bed, chair, books...). Sacrifice of time and energy, and a sharing of expertise. I am blessed in my friends!

This blog was one of the things I have missed. I am committed to regular blogging--and on all topics, so look out below!