Relationships are about mutual care, mutual consideration, and mutual compassion.

Sermon by Pastor Joel Crouse

Sunday September 10, 2023

This summer, on holidays, I binged a TV show about a hijacked airplane. I want to make it clear: this was a completely ridiculous show based on highly implausible plot points. Shakespeare it was not. Not even its name was original: Hijack. I watched it and forgot it. Until this week, that is, when I sat down with today’s readings on conflict.

In the show, a mediator played by Idris Elba gets trapped on a hijacked plane. Because he is Idris Elba, his character is tough and strong. But he spends most of his time on the plane talking to keep the situation calm. And he accomplishes this over, and over again with one trick: he figures out what other people ultimately want or need, and he keeps an eye on what he ultimately wants, which is to get home safely to his family. With that goal in mind – he is willing to compromise, to walk back an insult, to accept restraints, to save one of the terrorists. Now, of course, in between there is a lot of silly action and drama. But ultimately, his character survives because he listens, and pays attention, and figures out what people need to resolve the conflict. (And in this case, land the plane and walk away.) He is constantly looking for common ground. Intelligent compromise, even when it is painful (quite literally), is his superpower.

Our conflicts are – thank goodness – a little more earthbound. But they are often very destructive. Friendships end. Family members are estranged. Communities break down. These conflicts may not be life or death. But they often hijack our lives. They can be devastating to us. I have met people who truly grieve no longer speaking to once-close members of their family, and yet can hardly articulate what started the fight in the first place. Somewhere along the line, they failed to see what the other person wanted or needed. They even forget what they themselves wanted or needed.

Our second lesson, which is a kind of re-branding of the ten commandments by Jesus, tries to teach us to keep the focus. Yes, Jesus says, the Ten Commandments, as they were traditionally presented, are important: don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t covet. All those classic nuggets. But they are focused on the law; they lead either to a binary world of right or wrong, or a distracting moral debate about context. Jesus says that ultimately, they should be packaged up into one commandment: Love your neighbor as yourself. Love, Jesus says, does no wrong to the neighbor. And therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.

It’s important to consider that statement in full: Love your neighbor as yourself. Love is a relationship – between ourselves and another person. It is about mutual care, mutual consideration, and mutual compassion. If we can be compassionate for ourselves and our mistakes, so should we be with the mistakes our neighbor makes against us. If our wants and needs are important to us, the wants and needs of our neighbor are of equal importance. If we value our lives, we must also value the life of our neighbor.

Think of our Idris Elba back on his hijacked airplane. His only goal is to get home safely to his family. But if that is all he values, he will never achieve that goal. He would insist on his way, and conflict would ensue. Instead, he has to consider what his captor wants, and the ways that they might have shared interests. The obvious one, of course is that they also want to land safely and get home to their families. There are all kinds of incremental moments on the show where Idris could get angry and react in the moment – and thus, put his goal at risk. But he holds his focus. What is the best action here, he asks, so we can all get what we need?

We lose sight of this all the time. We choose to stew over a careless phrase made in an argument, even if it means all negotiation stops. We fail to work at seeing the perspective of the other person and jump to conclusions about their meanings without asking for an explanation. We become obsessed with the law: his actions weren’t right; she shouldn’t have said that. We fail to focus on love: what is it we both want? How can this conflict be resolved by meeting or compromising on what we both need?

Jesus surely knew that conflict was a virus that can destroy communities. So in our gospel, he gives very precise instructions for dealing with it. Indeed, those instructions are etched into our justice and governance system. As Jesus describes it, if you have conflict with someone, first seek them out and try to talk it out. If you can’t figure it out between you, bring in someone else to help. If that doesn’t work, seek out the help of your community.

Let’s say our neighbors builds a fence across our property line. We can stomp over to his house, fuming, but to what end? If we end up yelling at each other, is he more likely to move the fence? If we try to understand how this happened, and learn it was an honest mistake, how much closer are we to the goal? If we learn the neighbor had different facts about the property line, we might seek a second opinion together. And so on. But if our entry point is – I like my property, you like your fence, so how can we solve this? – rather than blame and scorn, we might avoid all of that. If we first go with grace – loving our neighbors as ourselves – odds are higher we will get our metaphorical plane landed safely and be enjoying burgers on the BBQ by sunset.

But what if none of that works? What then, Jesus? Well then, Jesus says, treat those people as you would a tax collector. But that’s a trick answer. Because how did Jesus treat tax collectors? He welcomed them; he stayed open to their discipleship. And so what Jesus is saying is not that we cut that person from our lives forever. Jesus is making a case for healthy boundaries. You might not invite that tax collector to your family table. But you would still answer when they are in need. You would still listen to their overtures should they come. You would stay open for the day when an opportunity comes to heal the wound and end the conflict. Just as you would want that grace for yourself, you would extend it to others.

Not easy. Jesus, after all, spent the bulk of his time negotiating or advising about conflict between strangers, between sisters, between parents and children. There were plenty of times during that TV show when I just wanted Idris to take control and do something daring and definitive, instead of backing down; it would have felt better in the moment. There are times in all our lives when we don’t back down when we should; when we talk when we should listen; and when we find ourselves deep in a conflict having forgotten how we got there.

The gospel has some advice there, as well: it calls us to ask, each and every day, what matters? What matters today, in this moment? What will matter a week, a month, five years from now? Indeed Jesus gives us the answer: Love your neighbor as yourself. Amen.

Are we paying attention to the journey? Or focused too much on the destination?

Sermon by Pastor Joel Crouse

Sunday September3, 2023

In Nova Scotia, we have to boat, mostly on a small inflatable, to complete the labour of the day. We get groceries by boat and water. Every day this summer, Noah would travel the bay by boat to get to work. This isn’t easy. We don’t have a wharf to our camp, so depending on the tide, we often wade through water to make those final steps to shore. Or we have to make the crossing in the pouring rain.

And yet, if we pause, we are reminded that we do these tasks surrounded by beauty. On the boat ride across, if you are paying attention, you might see a porpoise or seal. If you take but a moment, you can look out toward the open ocean. Inhale mindfully, and you smell the sea air. In those moments, you can lose yourself in God’s creation. But only if you forget, for a moment, about the work waiting or left behind. Then you find it. The journey becomes more than the destination.

When I read the gospel this week, I thought about this profound statement from Jesus in the context of my short, often soggy, and yet beautiful journey. Jesus says: “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” It is a timely lesson for us on Labour Day weekend Sunday, in these waning days of summer. A lesson in priorities. Are we paying attention to the journey? Or focused too much on the destination?

It happens easily. After all, we are constantly being reminded to set goals. And so we map out where we want to be 5 years from now, how much money will be enough to buy a house or retire, how we will achieve that promotion at work. It’s good advice: these are worthy goals, in principle. But they are also the “saving life” kind of goals. We start here, and we want to get there. Usually what we need to do to achieve them has little to do with the gospel.

What would be a “losing life” kind of goal? The ones that Jesus would endorse. We already know instinctively– we all likely invested in a form of them this summer by making time to be in nature, to spend days with visiting families, to do fun things with grandchildren not in school. During those times, if we are lucky, we lose ourselves in the presence of others, or in the presence of God’s bounty. We breathe in the world. Now this is the life, we say.

In a way, the difference between saving your life and losing it is the difference between the destination and the journey. A journey must have a destination – otherwise you are just wondering. But it does not exist solely for that destination. And Jesus speaks to us about this too in his conversation with Peter, who is having a hard time thinking about the destination to which Jesus is heading, and tries to talk him out of it.

Jesus is angry: “Get behind me, Satan!” he rages to his dear friend. That is a terrible insult; Satan is the big bad boy in the gospel, after all. But Jesus’s response is also indicative of the bond he feels to Peter: Who else, but his closest counsel could tempt him to take a different path? Jesus is naming that temptation, just as we must name ours. And the story reminds us that often it is our friends and family who tempt us the most – to aim for one destination or another, wanting only the best for us, just as Peter did for Jesus.

And then Jesus says to Peter that losing your life is the way to find it. And here we come to the journey, especially if we use Jesus as our guide. Jesus didn’t march straight to Jerusalem, to his destination. He stopped along the way. He fed the 5,000. He healed the sick. He chatted with the woman at the well. He noticed the outsiders and welcomed them. He preached to crowds. He ate dinner with friends. The gospel was not created in Jerusalem. That destination only meant something because of the journey. The gospel became a powerful, enduring message, because Jesus grew it out of nothing by serving other people, by being kind and open and generous. Jesus did not save his life to lose it on the cross: he lost his life to the gospel so that he might find his life in the end.

We are all on the same human journey. A different version of the same destination. Our lives on this earth eventually end. The living is our choice. Do we put the same energy into our relationships that we do into our work? Do we worry about our treasure, without equally spending our time where it can make a difference? Do we forget too quickly what was so valuable to us this summer, and let it lie fallow until next year’s summer sun?

Are we just saving our life to lose it in the end? Or losing our life to find it?

I don’t know about you, but I will think about this question mindfully, especially in the weeks ahead, as summer’s memory begins to fade.

And I will think, too, about Peter who loved Jesus so much that he didn’t want him to die; and Jesus who needed his friend to help him carry the burden, to temp him away from it. And how they both, in that difficult moment, chose to focus on hope and compassion on their journey. And that journey created the gospel.

May we all lose our lives to such a journey. Amen.

What does it mean to proclaim the Good News of Jesus?

Sermon by Rev. Ronald Nelson

My Guru, Roger Karban said, something like this, “if you listen to the William Tell overture and do not think of the Lone Ranger, you are very knowledgeable of classical music.” Like-wise, he said, “if you read Matthew 16:18 and do not think of the Roman Catholic papacy, you are a true Scripture scholar.”

Therefore, we Lutherans must be good Scripture scholars and old enough to remember “hi-yo-silver! Away!” Roger, a Roman Catholic, says, “we Roman Catholics have lost Matthew’s real message.” But let us not break our arm patting our Lutheran backs and let us look at this lesson today.

My first congregation that I served was of Danish persuasion, thus “Built on a Rock” by N. F. S. Grundtvig would have had to be sung today. The lectionary I use and the one in the ELW use two different lessons for the first two lessons, so I will try to stick with the Gospel. It is against my better judgement, but when the Anglicans and Lutherans persist in mucking up the lectionary, what is a guy to do?

Today’s reading from Matthew is generally considered to be the chief evangelical text for our understanding of the Church’s foundation. For Roman Catholics, they look at Peter as the rock, for us we say Faith is the rock and the Church carries that Faith forward.

When I look at Grundtvig’s hymn, he seems to say Christ is the rock, without ever saying it. Matthew’s story from the beginning has drawn us in with the Good News announcement of salvation that is to be for us in this one who we call “Immanuel – God with us,” [1:21-22]. Yet the central question still has to haunt us. The Sermon on the Mount has been delivered, Jesus’ ministry of teaching and healing is well underway and yet John the Baptiser still asks the question that is at issue for every one of us hearing the Good News today. “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

And what is Jesus’ reply? “Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” [11:3-6] This lesson is a pivotal time for Jesus’ ministry. Now is the time for Jesus’ disciples who have followed him to come clean and acknowledge the identity of this Jesus who has called them, and to follow his lead in the mission to the world. They/we have heard the stories of Jesus’ teaching and now we are asked the pointed question, “but who do you say that I am?” So Peter speaks for the disciples, for the community then and for us now. “Jesus is the Messiah.” “Jesus is the Christ, the anointed one.”

At the end of the Gospel, Jesus commissions these disciples as representatives of this new community to go in his name and to make disciples of all nations. This Faith, this Church, this community of believers are bound in Jesus’ mission. This community, the church, is endowed with the promise of a rich gift, the “keys” of the kingdom which is identified as the community’s invitation and mission to exercise the power of forgiveness in the binding and loosing of sin in the name of God.

For the writer of Matthew this is the call and responsibility of discipleship.

I believe this is what we as the Church have forgotten. Please turn to page 114 in the front of the hymnal. “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord’s face shine on you with grace and mercy. The Lord look upon you with favour and + give you peace.” One of my biggest problems with the Church is emphasized by what I hear at the benediction, which is often said by either clergy or lay,

“May the Lord bless….

May the Lord’s face….

May the Lord look….

And give you peace.”

Look in your hymnal, does it say, “may”? No, it says the Lord “does” give us….

My red ordination stole has keys as the symbol on it. I as a pastor represent the church to which God has given the keys to the kingdom, the power to forgive. The question is then, what would it look like for us to claim such a blessing and to have such an imagination as to join in this confession and this community. What if we were to know ourselves to be called by this promise and given this identity as disciples and ambassadors of the reign of God? What if we could just catch even a glimpse of what it means to be a part of this new community, authorized and empowered as agents to exercise the task of forgiving and welcoming in the name of God who desires “mercy and not sacrifice.” [9:13]. What if our hope was constantly part of that vision, that to the ends of the earth, the will of God might indeed be realized. That not one of these little ones should be lost to the saving love of God?

The problem for us, is just like the disciples, with, for a brief moment at least, the exception of Peter, the disciples do not have an opinion of their own. They say, “Messi, the Argentinian soccer player, has never offended anyone, because he has no opinion.”

So here we are as Christians. I believe Jesus wished his people were hot or cold. Instead, their discipleship was unremarkable. How we identify with Jesus should be based on personal encounters with God, and how we are informed by our readings of Scripture and in dialogue with others.

Yes, we need lifelong conversations with God whereby we adjust what we think we know. Our denomination, our church, our pastors, our mothers, fathers, siblings, teachers, and others will have their opinions, but in the end, we have to decide for ourselves how we identify this Jesus.

We cannot be like Messi and many others, with no opinion. A living God is a dynamic God and not a static God whose clearest communication happened in the past. We say Jesus is the Messiah of the living God. When we say Jesus is the Son of Man, we mean that God continues to act. God does not have to resurrect John the Baptiser, or Elijah, or Jeremiah, or any other prophet to speak. God never ceases to exist, and to create, and to anoint. God can resurrect the dead, but resurrection is not his only option. Jesus continued to dialogue with Peter, God continues to dialogue with us. God is a living God, a relevant God, a contextual God. God speaks a relevant word that reflects the contexts in which we live and the challenges that we face.

God is a living God not bound by a written page or even a sacred text.

We must have opinions on God. What we do on earth matters and it has an impact all around us. And then interestingly, Jesus said, “Their lives will speak louder, more truthfully, and more effectively than their words.”

The bottom line is that God said, “we shall not build churches that oppress the poor and women and turn a blind eye to sexual violence.” On this “rock,” let us build assemblies that demonstrate belief in a living, incarnating God, a God of freedom and not of oppression, and above all a God of justice, and love and peace. Each one of us must pray for the call within the call, the grace within the grace. We must pray to find fullness that can only happen if we are willing to come in empty of our own agendas. Then we can discern where we see the creative movement of God stirring among us. What does it mean, in concrete and specific terms to proclaim the Good News of Jesus the Messiah in our communities, our work, our nation, our world?

Yes, the conviction that Jesus is the Messiah is the place to start. Then we must consider, in the light of this conviction, how do we live in faith that says the Messiah is present among us today? In the end, a life of faithful service may be the best answer to that awe-inspiring question, “Who do you say that I am?” we answer by saying who we are, and more importantly by what we do.

[...]

To God we belong

And to God is our return.

Amen.