It takes strength to live by what is just and pure - strength to live with faithful discipleship.

Sermon by Pastor Joel Crouse

Sunday October 15, 2023

Well, that’s quite the gospel, this morning. Basically, we are offered a parable by Jesus that is essentially about God’s “cancelling” someone for wearing the wrong thing to a party.

Even by our current standards of outrage – legitimate and otherwise – showing up in the wrong robe isn’t likely to get that kind of reaction.

So let’s unpackage what is really going on.

In our gospel, this morning, Jesus offers us a parable. This King sends out invitations to a wedding party for his son. He invites some bigwigs, some landowners, powerful people. But they are too busy or can’t be bothered. Some of them even attack or kill those delivering the invitation. The king, in anger, responds by taking revenge.

He then decides to open the wedding up to everyone. Except one man is found not wearing the proper garb. When he can’t explain himself, the king orders the man tossed out of the party. We are to understand that his orders were followed. He was the king, after all. “Many are called,” Jesus says in warning. “Few are chosen.”

First of all, I wouldn’t consider this one of Jesus’s most successful parables. So many of his parables endure across time and traditions. But this one doesn’t so easily translate into our day. We’ve certainly seen our fair share, recently, of vengeful kings or petty leaders. We have seen quite clearly what happens to people who have the power to be “exclusive,” who decide who gets tossed and who measures up. We all heard the former president of the United States once spell it out baldly for us: that “When you are a star” people let you do things – egregious things – that other people couldn’t get away with. So, I don’t know about you, but upon first modern-day reading, my sympathy goes to the man who didn’t follow the dress code and got tossed out the door.

This parable is challenging, so let’s break it down. In some ways, it’s a bit on the nose. The King is God, the son is Jesus. God calls the leaders to follow the gospel, and they reject the offer or ignore it. Worse, they kill the messenger – that is, the prophet, such as John the Baptist, who was sent out to “invite” us to hear Jesus. So, God opens up the Kingdom of Heaven to everyone, no matter who they are, and waits to see who shows up.

First, let us consider this parable against the parables that surround it. In the previous chapter of Matthew, Jesus tells the crowd of a father who asks his sons to help him: one says no but changes his mind and does it.The other says yes but doesn’t help. Which one, Jesus asks, did what his father wanted? The first, the crowd answers. And so Jesus teaches that even when we choose wrong, our mistakes can be corrected. That what we say does not define us, but ultimately our actions do.

The next parable we hear is of a vineyard owner who rents his land to a set of farmers. When it comes time to collect his share of the harvest, he sends his servant, who the farmers beat and kill. A second meets with the same fate. Finally the land owner sends his son, who is also killed. And in the crowd, we hear that the chief priests and Pharisees squirm – for they know that the parable is about them, who hold on to power for the sake of power.

Now the parables of Jesus always have to be balanced by the message that resonates with us today, and the historical context we need truly to truly understand what is happening. In Jesus’s time, a wedding thrown by a King or very wealthy person would have included the host’s providing wedding robes for the guests. Not to wear one, would have been an insult and affront. So, the man is not bounced from the party for his ratty clothes. He is kicked out for not accepting a gift. The wedding robes in this sense are meant to represent grace. The man is not wearing a robe of character, and it costs him his invitation.

But is that fair? Is that even our understanding of the gospel? If many are called, but few are chosen, doesn’t that lead us to a community of faith where some pass, and some fail? This, for me, is a troublesome part of this analogy. It appears to contradict so many of the other teachings of Jesus, which are about grace and forgiveness. In the end, don’t we all want the same chance -- to learn from our mistakes?

But just as I would question anyone who uses one line from the Old Testament to decide their views on a matter, we have to remember to take the gospel in its entirety. Each parable should be seen as a kernel of wisdom; taken together, they give us the nuanced wisdom of the gospel.

It makes no sense that Jesus would be saying, if you mess up and forget to put on the robe this one day, you are out. Or, if you realize your error, and put on the wedding robe, you won’t get back into the party.

But some of the parables of Jesus guide our actions, such as the one about the Good Samaritan. Others make us see how even in our failings, we are accepted, such as the story of the two sons that precedes it. And some of the parables, like this one and the one before it, remind us of our obligation to the gospel. In these parables, of course, Jesus is speaking without much disguise about his own role on earth, to upend and unsettle the powers that be, even if there is a cost.

In doing so, Jesus is reminding us that getting invited to God’s table isn’t something to take lightly. It comes with risk. It comes with effort. Collecting the harvest won’t be easy. We don’t just wake up one day and wander over to the party. This invitation comes with a calling to live with character.

What was the character that God wanted the man to instill by his presence? A character that would be as visible as the clothes he was wearing. Surely it was the humility that the wealthy landowners did not show. But also kindness and generosity -- not looking away when we see wrong. The cloak of character comes with sacrifice. At times, it is a heavy cloak to wear.

But let’s not forget that other story told today. The exchange between Moses and God is one particularly worth noting. God is angry about the golden calf, ready to call it quits on the Israelites. But Moses, in essence, talks God down. And eventually, we are told, God changes God’s mind. Think about that: in a moment, a calm human voice, asking for mercy, was heard by God, and brought change, another chance to wear the cloak of character.

Are we the many who are called, or the few chosen? Faith is, by its nature, aspirational: a goal to which we strive, a cloak of character we try to wear as much as can. Jesus is impressing upon us the cost of the cloak of discipleship, even as he reminds us that the price of the invitation to the party is not perfection. Let us hear the call. Let us be mindful of false idols and Kings. And let us leave the choosing to God. Amen.

Giving thanks and honouring others is not only healing, it is a bond that connects us.

Sermon by Pastor Joel Crouse

Sunday October 8, 2023

Thanksgiving Sunday

Early this week, the Nobel Prize for Medicine was given to two researchers for their long-term research that led to the development of the MRNA COVID vaccine, which has saved innumerable people around the world and restored our lives after long years of lockdowns and limitations.

One of the winners was Katalin Kariko, a Hungarian-American biochemist. A year earlier, she had given a speech while accepting the Gairdner science award in Toronto. She gave a speech of thanks. She thanked her parents, a butcher and a bookkeeper in Hungary who had taught her the value of hard work. The teachers who had fostered her curiosity for science. The mentors who had inspired her to keep going. Her family who loved her. But along the way, she explained, it wasn’t easy: and not just when her experiments failed. She worked in a male-dominated field; she was demoted, fired from faculty positions, and passed over for promotion. And yet she said, “It may surprise you, but I also thank all the people who tried to make my life miserable.” Without them, she said, she would not be there.

I thought of her speech this week, because it seemed like a fitting lesson in gratitude, offered by a woman to whom we all have so much to be thankful. Gratitude is not just an act of saying thanks. It should not be just appreciation for what we have. It is also a choice: to find strength even in hard times, and to be grateful for that strength.

The gospel tells us the famous story of the ten lepers whom Jesus heals. And yet only one returns to give thanks. The healed man who comes back is a foreigner. “Where are the rest? “ Jesus asks. But then he says to the one man who has returned: “Get up and go on our way: your faith has made you well.”

Is it significant that the man who returned was a foreigner, out of place? Perhaps, we might imagine that the other nine ran home to their families to celebrate the gift of new life, to be accepted back into their own lives. In their joy and relief, they forgot Jesus entirely. They claimed their gift and ran. But the outsider valued the gift and recognized the worth of the person who had bestowed it. How often do we, in a moment of success or victory or good fortune, fail to acknowledge the people that led us to that place? How often do we act as if our fate were entirely of our own making? What does that mean when we fail – do we fail all alone as well? Often it is the people who are best at giving thanks who are also the most comfortable accepting help when they need it. Surely that’s a balance for happiness.

And then Jesus says to the man: “Your faith has made you well.” That is an interesting line. Technically, the man has already been made well: he has been healed of a terrible disease. We never hear that the other men who forgot to give thanks are suddenly made ill again.

So what can Jesus mean? The only thing, as far as we can see, that sets this man apart is his act of gratitude. Isn’t Jesus saying that the act of giving thanks, of recognizing generosity, or being able to humble yourself before another person, is an act of healing? It requires intention and risk: in this case the Samaritan risked returning and saying thank you to a leader in society who might mistreat him.. He might have thought Jesus had accidentally healed him; drawing attention had a clear risk. When we make ourselves vulnerable to others, when we say thank you, we are also acknowledging that we need other people, that we can’t go it alone. That’s an attitude that often works against our individualistic society that takes pride in self. Jesus, however, says that recognizing and honouring the role of others is healing for the self. Giving thanks is not a phrase to smooth social interactions. It is a bond that reminds us how we are connected.

Let me end by saying “Thank you” to Dr. Kariko. Not only for changing all of our lives, but for the lesson of gratitude that she passes on.

I hope, this Thanksgiving, that we give wide and honest thanks for the gifts we have, and also for the strength found in our burdens.

May we not be one of the nine lepers who started living again without first pausing to recognize the true value of the gift of that life they’d been given.

May we, instead, be like the Samaritan who returned to Jesus, with humility, and was thus made more whole by being connected to something greater than and beyond themselves. Amen.

God gives us powerful tools in order to be active workers for Love, Peace and Hope in the world.

Sermon by Pastor Joel Crouse

Sunday October 1, 2023

Well, that was quite a week in our Parliament. The Speaker of the House of Commons resigned, a mea culpa from the Prime Minister, headlines around the world that linked together two unfortunate words - Canada and Nazi. I know you will know the details, but just quickly. Two Fridays ago, Ukrainian President Zelensky spoke before Parliament. After his speech, the Speaker of the House paid public tribute to a man he called a “Canadian and Ukrainian hero” in the chamber, and not one but two unanimous standing ovations followed. What also followed was a lesson in why we should always study history, because as it happened, the man served in a Ukrainian division trained by the Nazis and commanded by the SS. It took a while for people to figure out what had happened - but soon the full weight of the mistake became clear. Russia used the false claim that Ukraine is a Nazi state to justify its invasion; now they had video of Zelensky applauding someone who served under the Nazis.

It was a mistake. It’s clear to anyone who saw his comments on that Friday that the Speaker meant only the best. But sometimes good intentions are not enough: sometimes we need to own up to our failure, apologize and face the consequences. So by Tuesday, the speaker had resigned. However it came about, he owned up to his mistake. The Speaker must have the faith of the members of the House of Commons, and he had lost it. We can judge his mistake as foolish and feel sympathetic to the situation he found himself in. But he also had to rise to the standards of the position he held.

That’s really what our gospel is about this morning: do we put our money where our mouths are? Do we do as we say? Do we live as we claim to live?

In the gospel, Jesus offers up a parable to deal with questions about belief. The chief priests and elders of the people, as we’re told, are giving Jesus the gears, challenging his authority. Jesus asks them a simple theological question: “Do you think the baptism of John came from heaven or human origin?” The elders wrestle with this question amongst themselves. What to say, what to say? If they say the baptism was divine, then Jesus will ask why they didn’t then believe what John had said about Jesus? If they say it was of human origin, then the crowd might turn on them. So they came back with no answer at all: We do not know. They took the weak middle road to cover their butts.

Jesus then follows up with an easy parable. The first son refused to work in his father’s vineyard, but then changes his mind and goes. The second son says he will go, but then does not. Which did the will of the father? The first, of course, the elders answer.

The focus of this parable is usually on the first son – the stand-in for the taxpayers and the prostitutes – who sees his error and corrects it in time. The lesson here is just that - doing the right thing in the end matters more than the place where the person started. You can change the path you are on.

But the second may be even more relevant to us these days. We live in a world of words, more than at any time in history. There is no cost to words. We can read pretty much whatever we want with the click of a button. We can clarify nearly every question with a Google search (Though I am not vouching for the answer). And we spout off as much as we choose, on Facebook, Twitter, our own blogs, on comments on other blogs and to other people’s tweets. Our words cost nothing to say. Take little effort to publish. And are easily tossed, then lost on a mountain of more words. Who can blame us for becoming careless with them?

But all our words-for-free age has really done is expose how often we are also careless with the things we believe, the truths that we say we value. We claim to want to be kind, and then we post insults on Twitter. We claim to support equality, and then we shut up when insults are made because we don’t want draw attention to ourselves. We speak too much when it doesn’t matter, and we speak too little when it does.

This bar, let me tell you, is especially high for those of us who sit here each Sunday, listening to the words of the gospel, praying for social justice. Words, all of them empty, if the action doesn’t follow.

That is only part of the problem with how the chief priests and elders responded to Jesus’s question. They were more worried about the reaction their answer would cause, than about speaking what they believed. There are many examples in the gospel of Jesus taking questions of faith and wrestling with them, but always when the questioner answered honestly. By saying “We don’t know,” the priests weren’t even true to themselves.

There is no other way around it – we must be willing to confront what contradicts our own beliefs, what is morally wrong, or sexist, or homophobic, or racist – with real answers, with clear words. If we truly believe what we pray for each Sunday, we cannot be mute the rest of the week. When I meet young people who are so vocal in their opinions, I am proud of them. But I also worry that they will become adults who learn to be polite when the situation calls for something stronger.

We are powerful tools to be forces of change. We are called to do the labour in God’s vineyard. God does not want us to sit on our hands. God encourages us to be active workers for love, peace, and hope in our lives and in the world. Amen.