July 3rd, 2022

Sermon by Rev. Joel Crouse

It is true that we are not Americans, but we live both in the sunlight and in the shadow of the United States, and it is a country that casts a long shadow. On the day the Supreme Court overturned Roe v Wade, and summarily stripped a half-century of constitutional right from 50 per cent of the population, in my house, and perhaps in many of yours, there was pain and fear and despair—even here in Ottawa, with a Prime Minister who quickly affirmed the right of women to choose. I heard that fear and anger, nonetheless, in the voices of the women I know, in the conversations that I overheard. It is the feeling of being trapped by an arbitrary act dictated by people (most of whom never risk having to make the same difficult decision) who have decided your life for you, who have infantilized you, as if being a woman makes you a child who has no right to her own decision. What’s more, the door has been opened to reversing rights for same-sex couples to love one another, to limiting the rights of couples to choose how, and when, and with whom to create their families. The tremors it created shook the ground here. And the voice of God was wielded like a sword. Which is precisely the opposite of what it is meant to do.

There have been plenty of times in my 25 years, now, as a pastor when people have recited the Bible not to me – but at me. But “This line,” they will say to me, “says this, Pastor. Doesn’t that make this person a sinner, or that choice a sin?” What is sad, by the way, is how much rarer it is for people to quote, at will, Bible verses as a gesture of love and acceptance. We humans certainly like to make good things into weapons, if we can figure out a way. Proof-texting is a fruitless exercise. Throw out one verse, another comes back at you. It is an exercise in mutually-assured confusion.

In seminary, I chose to write my thesis on why the church should marry same-sex couples. It is hard to believe that as a church of the gospel, we were talking about denying people love and kindness – and yet we were, and we still are, imperfect about it. As a cisgendered man, I came around to the rights of those whose gender was different from mine slowly, too slowly. There were many epiphany moments along the way, but, in seminary, one stood out. While visiting as a student pastor, I met two women living together, who were clearly a couple. But when I visited, even though I was there to help them, they pretended otherwise, they hid the truth of themselves from me. They did not trust me or how I might use God’s voice and power in their presence. And that, I felt, could never be. How can a pastor help anyone if they are afraid to show themselves? How can God’s voice be joyful if there is fear it will be used as a sword? How can compassion exist in a lie? Everything I understood about the gospel said it could not.

What does Paul say to the Galatians in his eloquent, pleasing speech in our second lesson? “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” How are we burdened? By being hated by others when we are different from them. By being judged by others when we make choices they decide are sins. Aren’t those among the worst burdens of human existence: hate and judgement?

How much worse they are when a law supports them.

As a minister, I often see people in their worst moments. They have experienced a terrible loss, they are trying to repair a life-changing mistake, they are wrestling with a difficult decision. In those very human moments – ones in which we all find ourselves – people need not law and doctrine, but compassion and kindness. They need someone to listen to them, to be there for them, to help guide them as they navigate what happens next on their own.

We are all lucky, then, as Paul says, that the law of Christ is not hate and scorn, but the call to bear one another’s burdens.

But Paul continues, reminding the crowd that they reap what they sow: “So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.”

We have a stark lesson across the border: we can lose rights if we don’t pay attention. Society can go backwards. At a time when we face the threat of war, climate change, and growing financial inequity – we have to ask ourselves who wins when we are distracted, fighting, or worrying about a woman’s right to choose? It is not God, who loves us as we are, who hopes, as Paul says, that we will carry one another’s burdens. It is not the gospel, a message of compassion.

We have our directions from Jesus, in his lessons to the disciples in our gospel: “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves,” he says. Go out, and persist; where you find like minds, embrace them; where you find differences, try to find common ground. In the face of uncertain success, when your feet are at their dustiest, and your bones creak, shake it off. For you must persist, always, to the next day.

We will reap what we sow. “So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.” Amen

June 26th, 2022

Sermon by Rev. Joel Crouse

While reading up on the gospel story this week, I came across an excerpt from a book called The Power of Focus. The goal of the book was to teach people “how to hit their business and personal targets with certainty.”

Online, someone had distilled down the eight lessons. I want to give you a sampling of what they are. To improve focus, the writers propose the following behaviours. Number One: Take one day completely off each week. Two: Spend time with your family. Three: Before going to bed, think about what you want to accomplish tomorrow. Number Four: Find one thing to make your day better. Five: Take a nap. Six: Ask for help. Seven: Be persistent. And Eight: Keep your promises.

I love reading lists like this. They sound so familiar. Perhaps, we have heard them before?

Perhaps, in one version or another, they have been spoken by the same guy who is giving us the gears in this morning’s gospel.

Jesus is certainly playing Bad Cop in the gospel text. He is in a moment of his ministry when he is making discipleship sound hard. So hard, we might be squirming in our seats a bit.

Someone says to Jesus: I will follow you anywhere. And Jesus basically says, come if you want, but we’re pretty much homeless, and foxes live better than we do.

He encounters another person and extends an invitation. This person agrees, but can he first go and bury his dad? Jesus fires back: let the dead take of themselves, he says.

A third potential disciple says, “I’m coming; just let me go and kiss my family good-bye.” “Whatever,” Jesus answers. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and look back is fit for the [Reign] of God.”

Was Jesus being a bit of a heavy? Absolutely. But his point was clear: discipleship is hard. In his day, it meant leaving your family, giving up a home and a comfortable bed, facing uncertainty, including the risk of arrest and death by the authorities. It was not a decision to be made lightly. We have it easier, living in Canada. But in our day, as the teachings of Jesus become less prominent in society, being disciples of the gospel also has its challenges. It is easy to lose focus.

But keeping focus, staying the course, and persisting is what Jesus is talking about today. What happens to the person pushing the plow if they get distracted and look backwards? They till a crooked line, or maybe the plow runs into a rock and gets stuck. If you are always looking to the life you wish you had, how can you truly live the one you have chosen? Faith requires Focus.

The gospel is never so lacking in nuance, even when the words of Jesus seem to be. The gospel is meant to be read as a complete story, and in context, and by lifting bits here or there. We can read the whole thing on a Sunday, so I get to preach on snippets, on themes. Today, Jesus is talking about focus, but he is also telling stories that highlight, in another context, the benefits of being open to distraction. And there have been plenty of times when Jesus lifted up memory, and family connection, and an awareness of ourselves as being bigger than one moment, as important parts of faith.

But, in this instance, he is talking specifically choosing discipleship when it is tough to do so, about the importance of deciding to be all-in, so you don’t waver at the first sign of trouble. It was going to be hard for the group he was gathering during the time in our story; and it is hard for us today to stay on that plow, never looking back. When we falter in those moments, when our plow goes off-kilter, Jesus reminds us to stay focused on God, on the gospel. Don’t worry about unfinished business you cannot make better. Don’t worry about what you don’t have. Don’t worry about mistakes you made you can’t fix. Look to what you can make better now, to what you can fix now.

So Jesus is talking about a singular focus, like following with thought. He is referring to the kind of focus that gives us energy, purpose and direction. Focus is a trait to adopt so all the other parts of our lives are more content, have more meaning, more love and space. And so it is interesting to hear those 8 points mentioned in a business book about focus.

Because - what were they again? Take off the Sabbath, care for your community, pray as you look to the next day; do something good that brings you peace; practice mindfulness; be open to support and wisdom; have the faith to keep going; and, as much as you can, do what you say you will.

We don’t need to buy a book for those rules; they are written here in the gospel. They are principles of focusing on a life that serves a greater good, a higher calling. Do not look behind, Jesus says, so that you become stuck among the things you cannot change; look ahead, with intention, and live well and honestly. Focus on the gospel, Jesus says, keep your hands on the plow of the faithful, and your harvest will be large indeed. Amen.

June 19th, 2022

Sermon by Rev. Joel Crouse

Our gospel this morning can fall prey to distraction. It is about people’s being possessed by demons, and Jesus’s commanding those demons out. As gospel stories go, it is one story that naturally gives our modern thinking pause. Theologians and pastors, me included, have tried to reconcile the stories of demon possession with the science we know today. Were the demons in the story actually bad habits – like drinking too much? Were they diseases, such as schizophrenia? If we agree that demons – like vampires and werewolves – are a fantastical idea – then what was Jesus commanding out of the person?

It also gets tricky if we go one step further: did Jesus believe in actual demons, or was he just speaking in a language that the people of the day could understand? And if Jesus did believe in actual demons, must we as well?

In the end, this is one of those coffee conversations about the gospel that can be entertaining, even revealing, but don’t really help us very much. Not, at least if our goal is to be gospel-bearing in 2022. The reason why the gospel lives on today is not because of its anachronisms, but because of its eternal truths, the ones that speak across time and place, to reach us here, even now.

So, I want you to decide for yourselves what those demons are. Maybe they are a bad habit or a pattern of behavior that is causing conflict between you and those you love. Maybe they are, indeed, an illness plaguing you, a mental illness or a physical one, that is putting you at a distance from your community of support. Maybe, in the moment, you want to imagine that the man in the gospel was possessed by a legion of actual demons. The image is yours.

But it is not the core truth of this gospel story.

Let us consider our demon-possessed man. When we meet him, he is not wearing any clothes, and hasn’t for a long time. He does not live in a house anymore, but in the graveyard. We are told, in a rather dramatic side reference, that he had been chained and guarded, but that he would break free from time to time and run into the wild.

Based on what we know at this point; we have two options: we can be afraid, as his neighbors clearly were, terrified of this dangerous, demon-possessed man.

Or, we can remain open to a different perspective: we can consider that he broke his chains from a desire to be free. We can overlook the fact that if we, like him, were shunned from our community, and left naked among the dead, after a while we might not act exactly like ourselves either. And if we were struggling before with an addiction or an illness, it might, under such circumstances only get worse.

What happens when the man meets Jesus? He does not attack him or shout out at him; as far as we know, his demons do not spin his head around and make claws grow from his hands. Instead, what happens is this poor, naked man, living in the tombs, falls to his knees and begs for Jesus to help him.

And suddenly, we have another challenge: how many times had he asked the same of his neighbors, his former friends, and was refused?

Now we come to the core truth of the gospel, as told in this story. And it no longer matters what kind of demon you or I or anyone else is wrestling with. Even when the language of the gospel trips us up, it is the actions of Jesus that translate across time and space. This is true, each and every time, in every story: peel away the wording, the framing, the social context, and you will find the actions of Jesus to teach us everything we need.

What does Jesus do? He does not run, or recoil. He goes to the man. He helps him. The demons, we hear, are pulled out of him, and asking not to be sent into the abyss, are put by Jesus into some pigs who then run off and drown in the river. Again, a high drama moment. But don’t be distracted. Where is Jesus? He is still with the man, and the man is still with him.

This is where the villagers find him, dressed and speaking normally, and by all appearances, better. Do they rejoice? Do they throw a party? No, they are afraid; and their fear costs them dearly. Because they do not invite Jesus among themselves; they send him away. Their fear has not made them wiser, or safer, or stronger. It has made them weaker, and smaller. It has isolated them.

Our gospel ends with Jesus’s sending the man back to his home, to reclaim his life.

The question we might ask ourselves now is this one: who is the real demon of the story? Is it whatever, or even whoever, was afflicting the man? Or is it the fear that caused people to abandon another person, to show him no love or kindness, and to leave him to die? That fear, as we see, was its own legion, for even when the demons in the man were gone from him, it still possessed the villagers. It blinded them to Jesus so they could not see him.

So what happened in this gospel story? What core truth was upheld? When everyone was afraid and judging, Jesus reached out with acceptance. When we judge ourselves, Jesus does not back away from our demons, but reaches out. When everyone is saying things are one way, Jesus calls us to ask: what is another way to see this situation? Is there some way to help?

When we respond blindly out of fear, we miss the chance to see all kinds of healing miracles happen in the world. We may even miss Jesus in our midst. Amen.