A Little Good News: A Sermon for Christmas 2021

With the news of the omicron variant, rising Covid cases and return of restrictions, I did what any level-headed, patriotic Canadian would do…I started listening to Anne Murray tunes – in particular, her song A Little Good News.  In it, Anne croons of a day when she can turn on the news or pick up a newspaper and not be bombarded with bad news.

Nobody robbed a liquor store on the lower part of town
Nobody OD’ed, nobody burned a single buildin’ down
Nobody fired a shot in anger, nobody had to die in vain
We sure could use a little good news today.

It might have been 1983 when Anne first sang these words, but she could be singing about our world today.  In fact, I think Anne’s song could be the theme song for the pandemic…especially this part.  We’re all in desperate need of some good news.

That got me thinking about another blast from the past: NTV’s Jim Furlong’s Good News Report.  The theme song for this segment was Anne Murray singing A Little Good News.  Anyone who grew up in Newfoundland in the 80’s and 90’s remembers the stoic Jim Furlong telling us about all the good things going on in the province.  Back then I thought it was hokey – if we had more channels I would have watched something else – but we didn’t, so I was stuck with NTV and Jim.  Now that I am older, with the world in the state that it’s in, I long for Jim Furlong to tell me some good news.  Please Jim, come back.  Please, if anyone from NTV is reading this, bring back Jim’s good news report.  He might not be the hero we want, but he’s the hero we need.

All jokes aside, and really this is no joking matter, people are hurting.  If I had forgotten or chose not to know this, I was severely reminded of it in the past few weeks.  The buildup to the Christmas season is always a busy one in the church.  There’s lot of extra stuff on the go.  One of those things is the charitable work we do.  Actually, charity is on overdrive in December.  We’re all a little bit more aware of the needs of others, always a little more ready to help out, to give.  But this year the needs seem greater; the challenges more insurmountable.  It’s all been a little overwhelming,  the stories upon stories of people struggling.

The newly single parent suffering through domestic violence who thinks that the only way out is to not only escape the situation, but to escape this life altogether.  I listen to the stories of generational abuse, addiction and trauma, and my heart aches for them.

The dad who lost his job and now his EI has run out.  What will he do for his kids for Christmas?

The Afghan refugees who escaped the horrors of their home only to arrive here to be stuck in a hotel room for 50 days with their families because there is not enough affordable housing.  I listen as fatigued settlement workers cry tears of exhaustion.

The seeming unending number of families struggling to put food on the table.  That there is hunger in such an advanced society still fills me with rage most days, especially when smiling politicians and newscasters talk about the latest charitable effort to stock food bank shelves.  Should our response to poverty and hunger be left to chance and goodwill?

The many who sit in doctor’s offices and hospital rooms and take in the not-so-good news that the doctor shares with them.  What comes next?

The young person in despair because she doesn’t see a future because of climate change.

All of us at our wits’ end because we’re not sure how much more of this Covid pandemic we can take.

So, when I listen to Anne sing that we all could use some good news, when I hear the Angel proclaiming good news for all people to the shepherds, I can’t help but wonder…what is this good news?  What is this good news for those who are struggling?  What is this good news, the gospel, the church talks so much about?

Unfortunately, the church has limited the good news to forgiveness of sins and escape from the wrath of an angry God – a Gospel that proclaims an escape to a better world, not one that embraces and heals this one; a Gospel that imposes a strict moral code that binds up, not liberates; a Gospel that sounds an awful lot like the rest of the world, that demands we be good citizens and not rock the status quo.

The word gospel derives from the Greek word euangelion.  Although we think of it as a churchy word, it was borrowed from the Romans and has a long history in the ancient world. 

In the gospel reading good news referenced the proclamation of the great works and deeds of Caesar.   The good news of Rome was the defeat of some barbarian king, the putting down of some bloody rebellion, the enslavement of some nation or people group.

The good news announced in the gospel of Luke has a different feel to it.  First of all, notice who the announcement includes or doesn’t include.  The Caesars, the governors, the rulers, the powerful are a mere footnote in the story.  They merely give the story some sense of historical grounding.  Instead, the story includes a bunch of nobodies.  There’s a peasant girl named Mary, an insignificant artisan craftsman named Joseph, and a band of smelly shepherds.  And the Angelic announcement was not made in the corridors of power in Rome, or Athens, or even Jerusalem where the Temple sits, the house and throne room of Yahweh.  No, it happens out in the middle of nowhere, in some backwater town, in a backwater province of the Empire.  The characters and setting tell us that something different is going on.

The words the angel speaks about this good news are words taken directly from the good news pronouncements about Caesar and other rulers.  The angel speaks of newborn child as saviour, Messiah (chosen one), the Lord.  Anyone in the ancient world hearing this story for the first time would have known that Caesar is the saviour.  Caesar is the one.  Caesar is Lord. Caesar is the son of god.  And much like the euangelion of Rome tells of the peace of Caesar, so too the angels tell of the peace of this child born in Bethlehem.

But again, how is this good news?  So what if another power is rising?  It will be good news for some, but certainly not good for most, especially those who are already suffering.  What is this gospel?  How will this child be any different than any other king?  How will he save?

We have to skip ahead, but we know the answer.  He will save not in the power of the powers that be, but in the weak power of love, or the powerless power of love.  His peace will not come at the end of a sword, but in non-violent self-giving.  He will heal, forgive, show mercy and grace, and teach in such a way that it turns our understanding of power, religion and God upside down.  He will show us a new kind of Kingdom, God’s kingdom, God’s reign, what the world would look like if God’s will were done on earth.  It means a new way of seeing ourselves, and others, as beloved children sharing in God’s Kingdom work of justice and peace, a kin-dom of God.  This is a message that resonated with people.  And I believe it still can.

When I read this story, when I imagine it in my head – or perhaps better yet, my heart – I see the scene frozen in time.  The Angels hang in the air, their wings motionless, their song silent.  The shepherds too, stand motionless and soundless, as do their sheep.  So do the holy family, Mary and Joseph…they are still, quiet.  So is the child, the Messiah, Jesus who will become the Christ.  He, too, is frozen and motionless…no sound, no cries.  All eyes, all of them, from the angels to the shepherds, even the creaturely sheep, the weary parents, look not at the newborn child but at something else.  Even the Christ child gazes intently at something not in the picture.  They are all looking at us, looking to us.  You see this good news will only come; the kin-dom will only come; hope and peace, joy and love will only come if we say yes.  We must say yes with our lives, confess and embody the good news.  Say yes like Mary, whose willingness made her the God-bearer.  Say yes like Joseph who welcomed and nurtured God’s gift to the world.  Say yes like the bumbling, thick-headed disciples, who answered Jesus’ call to come and follow.  Say yes like the countless saints, known and unknown, inside and outside the church, who lived their lives in such a way that we can dare to imagine that a better way for the world is possible.

So this Christmas let us not keep Christ in Christmas, but instead say yes…every day, every moment, in every situation…yes to the reign of God, the kin-dom of God.  May we say yes to peace, mercy, grace, forgiveness, healing and kindness; yes to the stranger, the other, the weak, the poor, the hungry.  May we say yes to love, even the love of our enemies.  May we say yes, bring to life, bring to bear in our bodies, in our action a more just and caring world.  And may it be good news to the whole human family and all of creation.

And may we do this in the name of God who is creator, redeemer and sustainer of all life.  Amen.

Do You Believe You Are So Called? A Sermon for the Ordination of Derrick Sheppard to the Diaconate

As I share in this special day with my friend Derrick, I can’t help but think of my own ordination day and the emotions that I was feeling.  I had a profound experience that day, but it didn’t happen in the typical way.  It was nothing like the scene we read about in the prophet Isaiah’s account of his own calling and commissioning.  There were no lofty visions of the Almighty.  There were no other-worldly seraphs or thunderous voices or heavenly smoke.  I did not hear the voice of God.

In the days and weeks leading up to my ordination I had not been feeling anything particularly profound about the approaching significance of the big day.  Everyone thought I should and kept asking “You must be getting very excited?”  But in all honesty, I wasn’t.

Even on the day of the ordination, even after a quiet morning of silence and prayer with a fellow ordinand, I still didn’t ‘feel it’.  So in the afternoon, along with my trusty dog Lucky, I headed into the woods for a walk.  I live in Airport Heights and Pippy Park is just a short walk away.  It was a typical dreary May day.  As we headed up the hill my mind was consumed with the minutia of the coming service, when I should arrive at the cathedral, when I was supposed to stand or kneel.  What is it I am supposed to say again?

As Lucky and I crested the hill we came to a clearing that overlooked Windsor Lake.  Lucky went off sniffing in the underbrush at something or other, but I stood there and gazed at the lake.  I was also taken by the rolling green hills.  It was quite beautiful.  I thought to myself, all this is only a tiny portion of the vastness of our planet.  Our planet is only a tiny portion of the immensity, the seeming infiniteness of the cosmos.  And as I stood there an overwhelming feeling of smallness rose up in me.  This lake and these hills and trees had been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years and they would be long, long after I am gone.  Earth will continue its course around the sun, the sun will continue its path around our galaxy, and our galaxy will continue to hurl through the vastness of space.  I am just a blip, a speck.  I am a tiny fragment of the universe perceiving itself for a moment.  It was pretty humbling.

And with it came another feeling.  Even though I am a tiny, finite part of this bigger whole, I am being invited, called, welcomed into something much bigger than myself, even if it is only for a short time.  God is at work in the world – always has been, always will be – and for a flicker of time I get to participate, to join in with what God is doing.  This, too, was pretty overwhelming, and when I made eye contact with my dog, he had his head cocked to the side as if to say, “You ok?”

So I came back down the hill, through the woods, to my house.  I got ready.  I put on my clergy shirt and collar for the first time.  I made my way to the cathedral and put on the vestments.  I knelt before Bishop Cy Pitman, and I gave thanks in my heart for the opportunity that I was being given.  I believe I am so called.

And this evening we gather with Derrick as he takes this next step in his journey of faith, as he answers the call and takes up his vocation in the church.  This has been a long time coming for Derrick.  He has been haunted by this call for many years.  His journey, like for most of us, has not be a linear journey from point A to point B.  There has been doubling back, straying off the path – sometimes willful, sometimes unintentional.  Sometimes the calling voice has been booming thunder, like Isaiah heard in the throne room.  Sometimes a nagging, persistent call that makes one want to run the other way like Jonah.  Other times the calling is nothing but a faint whisper, or the memory of the thought of a whisper, remembered but not quite heard – not quite present, but not absent either.

Even in the past two years, through pandemic and tragedy, through waiting and waiting and waiting some more, the call ebbs and flows.  But here we are, gathered with Derrick, called to the sacred order of deacons, a deacon in the church of God.  Called to be a deacon, called to be a servant, called to serve.

Throughout scripture, calling and service are synonymous.  To be called is to be called to serve God and God’s people.  Abraham and Sarah are called to be the seed bearers of a promise that will bless the whole human family.  Moses is called to lead the Hebrew people from oppressive slavery to covenant freedom.  The prophets and judges, the likes of Isaiah and Deborah, were called to call, called to call the people back to the paths of righteousness and justice, to the care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger.  John the Baptist is called to prepare the way, a way of repentance that benefits the vulnerable.  Mary is called to be the God-bearer, that the lowly might be exalted and the exalted brought low.  Jesus, too, is called to take the form of a servant.  As St. Paul says in some of the most theologically-rich words in all of the New Testament:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

 who, though he was in the form of God,

    did not regard equality with God

    as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

    taking the form of a slave,

    being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

    and became obedient to the point of death—

    even death on a cross (Phil 2:5-8).

In the holy scriptures, both Hebrew and Christian, to be called is to be a servant, a servant to the poorest, the weakest, the most vulnerable among us.  Thus, the term ‘deacon’, that comes from the Greek diakonos, servant.  The Acts of the Apostles tell us that the order of deacons emerges out of a need to care for the widows and, I might add, the Apostles lack of interest in getting caught up in this messy business, this waiting on tables.  But the calling of service, the calling of deacon, does not come, or ought not to come with high praise and honour.  There is no limelight.  It is messy work, the work of setting the tables and proclaiming, the living out of the gospel, the care of the vulnerable, being the present to the world and making the needs of the world present to the church.  Leave the glory to the long robes, the powers that be, while those called to service roll up their sleeves and get God’s work done.

This is the lesson that Jesus teaches his disciples in our gospel reading.  They make a request that many of us would make if given the chance and would likely not turn down were it offered to us: to sit at the side of Christ when he comes to reign.  These sons of thunder seek power and prestige, a place of honour and recognition.  But this is not the way of Jesus.  The way of Jesus, the calling of Jesus, is the way of self-emptying, of selfless love, of love of the other.  This starts a bit of a racket among the other disciples.  How dare they ask Jesus that question?  It was obvious to them that they were the greatest disciples.  They were the most important, not James and John.

Jesus calls his thick-headed disciples together: “So you want to be the greatest, hey?” Jesus said.  We can imagine all the disciples nodding in agreement.  “Well then, if you want to be the greatest you have to become a servant.”  Become a what now?  The disciples thought.  “Whoever wants to be first, must be last.”  They, like us, are left scratching their heads in confusion.  Jesus went on, “If you want to follow me, to be like me, then be a servant like me.  That’s why I’m here – to serve and not to be served.  To help others and not myself.”  Ah, the true heart of a deacon, to help the other and not the self.

This evening we acknowledge and bear witness to this calling in Derrick.  Do you believe you are so called?  We do.  We have seen your service; your genuine care for others; your ministry to the most vulnerable of our parish ministry.  From the Lord’s table, the table where we gather, you bring the food and presence of the body and blood of Christ, our body and blood, to those who for whatever reason cannot gather here with us.  We see you so freely share your gift of music, your voice, with us, your church, and also with the wider church and world.

But we are not only here because of Derrick, but to acknowledge and celebrate the order of deacons, to give thanks for the calling that calls to service.  It is a humbling reminder that the way up is the way down, that the way of Jesus is not one of advancement, but of decrease.  This calling is not so much about leadership, but discipleship; not leading, but following.  I firmly believe that the church needs more deacons, more who will heed the call of God, the weak call, the call to weakness, the call of servanthood.  We need more people to embrace the call of the diaconate, the call to prepare tables and proclaim the gospel, the good news.  Oh, I don’t mean here in these buildings…we have enough of that already.  We need those who will answer the call to serve the world, to prepare tables in and for the world.  To be the bearers of good news, not so much in word, but in their bodies, in their presence, to be present with the marginalized and forgotten.  Only the table can save us, bring us together, heal us and feed us, and the ones who are willing to roll up their sleeves and set these tables, to serve, truly answer the ancient call of God.

And finally, a reminder that this call is not just for some select few, a separate class.  No, this call is for all of us, all of the baptized, all who claim to follow Jesus.  As Derrick responds to his calling, says yes and joins in with what God in Christ is doing in the world, remember your own calling, remember your own baptism.  So much of this liturgy this evening mirrors our baptism liturgy.  And this calling comes to turn our hearts and minds, and hands and feet to serve, to turn our lives upside down, to reorient us to a new way of being in the world where the first are last and the last are first, where losing means finding, where truth is found in the powerless power of love.  Where our lives are turned to the other, and our lives and faith communities are flung open in the radical hospitality of Jesus and the Kingdom of God.  The question put to Derrick is put to all of us: do you, do we, each and every one of us, believe we are so called?  Amen.

Prayers of the People for Advent 2

Heavenly Father, we gather before you with hearts yearning for your peace and salvation. Just as John the Baptist tells us, we must prepare the way for the Lord, as we move through the Advent season and celebrate the birth of Jesus and his coming again into our lives. Let us bring our prayers to God saying:

God of Peace, hear our prayer

Let us pray for the church and her leaders: for Sam, our Bishop, David, our metropolitan and Linda, our Primate. We pray for Robert, our Rector and our parish’s leadership team. We pray also for the church in Burundi, and the Synod Office in Western Newfoundland. May all of your leaders experience your peaceful guidance, as we prepare during this Advent season.

God of Peace, hear our prayer

We thank you for calling us to the water of baptism, and we give thanks that today Amelia Danielle Lily (Saturday) Griffin James (Sunday) have answered your call of welcome. Help us to show them the love of Jesus in a community of concern and care for others.

God of Peace, hear our prayer

We pray also for our community, and the most vulnerable therein. Inspire us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and visit the isolated. In this way we can bring your love and light to all those in need.

God of Peace, hear our prayer

We pray for peace on this second Sunday in Advent, as we mark the National Day of Remembrance and Action to End Violence Against Women, and in particular we remember the Massacre at Ecole Polytechnique, and honor the lives lost on that dark day. Give us courage to actively seek an end to all gender based violence.

God of Peace, hear our prayer

We pray today for your healing hand upon all those who suffer, in body, mind and spirit. We pray especially today for Pam Janes, Louise Price, Tyler Cramm, David Jeans and those who we now name aloud or in the silence of our hearts. (pause) May they feel your peaceful presence amid their struggles.

God of Peace, hear our prayer

We remember and celebrate the lives of those who have died recently, especially Jean Seaward. May we be stewards of your peace and love, shining light into the darkness of grief for all those who mourn.

God of Peace, hear our prayer 

Peaceful God, free us from fear and help us to act boldly in the face of injustice wherever we may find it. May we be purposeful in our preparations, never overlooking those in need, always with a view to bringing your message of peace to those we meet. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Prayers of the People for Advent 1

Father, as we begin our Advent journey, fill our hearts with anticipation and hope.  Help us shed the weight of the challenges and distractions of the past year, and work instead on being ready to receive Your Son, The Christ. We lift our prayers to you as we say,

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

Gracious God, we ask your blessing on the Anglican Episcopal Church of Brazil and the parishes of Trinity/Port Rexton and Twillingate.  We thank you for the gift of your church communities and church leaders; for Reverend Robert and for Archdeacon Charlene.  As they prepare for a new year, new challenges and new opportunities, strenthen and guide them to fullfill the purpose to which they are called.

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

The season of love and giving that lies before us lays bare the reality that many in our community are living with desperate emotional or financial struggles.  Help us to be a source of hope and comfort to those in need.

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

As we approach World Aids Day, we give thanks for the advances in medical science to treat this disease and we ask your healing presence with the tens of millions of people still living with HIV and AIDS.  Give us generosity of spirit for sharing our medical resources with poorer countries struggling under the weight of AIDS and COVID 19.  Inspire world leaders to work together on eradicating these global contagions.

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

We lift up to you in prayer, all those all who are sick, suffering or otherwise in need of your healing grace.  We pray in particular for Pam Janes, Louise Price, Jean Seaward and those known to us who we now name either silently or aloud (pause…).

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

We pray for those who have died recently, especially…… and for the loved ones who celebrate their lives while mourning their loss. May they feel the comfort of your loving presence. 

Through your grace:  May hope grow in our hearts

Father, you enter our lives through the most unlikely places, like a child born in a stable.  Open our eyes and ears that we might always be attentive to your presence.  As we begin our Advent celebration, awaiting the hope fulfilled by the birth of your Son, help us to be your ambassadors for hope in the world.  Amen.

The prayers of the people this week are written by Charles Randell.

Endings and Beginnings: A Message for the Season of Advent

Dear Friends,

It seems very fitting that I write my last pastoral correspondence to you as we prepare to enter into Advent, the season of endings and beginnings.  I have had the privilege of serving the people of St. Mark’s for sixteen years, first as youth minister, then as Associate Priest, and over six years as Rector.  To say that I am proud of what we have done and accomplished together would be an understatement.  My heart is heavy as we come to the end of our journey together, but I am also excited for the beginning of my next journey at Queen’s College.

When I came to St. Mark’s back in 2005, I was at a point in my own spiritual journey where I was questioning my place in the church.  I wasn’t sure where I belonged and whether I had a future in the church at all.  I didn’t feel like I fit into the tradition in which I was raised; neither did I feel like I fit into the Anglican tradition that I had been exposed to in my studies at Queen’s College.  St. Mark’s changed all that the day that Lorie, Victoria, Hailey and I walked through the door.  We were warmly welcomed and made to feel at home, and it has remained home for us ever since.  In St. Mark’s I found a community that nurtured and cared for me and my family, seeing us through the dark days of the deaths of parents and the challenges of raising children in an ever-changing world.  St. Mark’s set me free to be the follower of Jesus and to grow into the priest and pastor that I believed I was called to be.  No matter what wacky idea I came up with, and no matter how far I tried to push boundaries, you always went along with and supported me.  Together we did some great things.  In so many ways St. Mark’s saved me, and I will forever cherish each and every one of you.

But I don’t want this to be all about what is ending, because Advent is also about beginnings.  Every ending is a beginning.  Actually, the word advent means the coming or arrival of a notable person, thing or event.  The Christian understanding of the Season of Advent is the anticipation of the arrival of Jesus – yes, as a baby born to Mary and Joseph, but also as the returning messiah king who comes to make all things new, to set right what we have set wrong.  His arrival will cause a shakeup, a reordering.  This shakeup is best expressed in the words of Mary, the teenaged mother of Jesus, in her words recorded in the Magnificat: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.  He has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”  These are potent words, scandalous even…words that should make the privileged and powerful shake in their boots.  The arrival, the presence of Jesus, means a reversal of the way the world has always operated, where the wealthy and well-connected take up the best seats at the table and gobble down all its bounty.  At Jesus’ table there is room for all, especially the poor, the marginalized and the stranger.  It is a table overflowing with the good food of God, and with justice, compassion and healing.  

Here at St. Mark’s, we don’t have a literal understanding of this return or second coming of Jesus.  There is no historical date when the clouds will part and the trumpet will sound, and Jesus will come in the clouds.  We understand this language as metaphorical, and that the arrival of which it speaks as an ongoing process.  Jesus is always arriving; always being born; always returning, again and again.  The trick is to have eyes to see and ears to hear where and when Jesus is showing up.  And to have hearts and hands and courage to join in with what Jesus is up to in the world.  As the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins reminds us, “For Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his.”

If Advent tells us anything, if the Christmas story has anything to say to us today, it is that we are called to participate in the making new and setting right that Jesus begins.  It tells us that our tables are to mirror those of Jesus, to be a place and a people of welcome, open to the other and the outsider, overflowing in goodness, mercy and grace.  And that is why I do not fear for the next chapter in the story of St. Mark’s.  I, and so many others, have been fed and are being fed at your table.  Whether it’s the table at the center of our liturgical gatherings, where we are fed with and as the body of Christ.  Whether it’s the tables of our parish hall where many a meal has been served and friendships made.  Whether it’s your generous sharing that has helped so many families put food on their tables throughout the pandemic.  Whether it’s the digital table of Facebook Live, Zoom or YouTube, where we connect in ways unimaginable just a few short years (maybe even months) ago.  Jesus is among us and working through us, the people of God. Will there be challenges?  Most definitely.  But if I have learned anything in my time here, it’s that no one rises to a challenge like the people of St. Mark’s.  Just remember what the Lord requires of you – that you do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God – and the blessing of God – creator, redeemer, and sustainer – will be with you every step of the way.

Peace,

Robert

The Prayers of the People for Reign of Christ the King

Let us gather our voices together in reverence for our Creator and Saviour, saying

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

We pray that our meager actions as your earthly church, both here and in Bangladesh, honour and glorify you by creating your kingdom on earth. 

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

We thank you for calling Deacons to service.  May we become closer to you through their ministry. We pray especially for Derrick Sheppard as he prepares for ordination into the sacred order of deacons, that your grace and mercy would fill him. 

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

May we show our admiration for the St. Mark’s Archive Working Group, who preserve our history of honouring you, by acknowledging their work in all our ministries. 

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

Open the hearts of those applying to be our next Rector, so that they have insight to their strengths and weaknesses.  Guide us to select the person that can lead St. Mark’s to glorify you through humble service.

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

We welcome Andi Marie and Lillian Beatrice Deanne through the sacrament of baptism.  May we show them/him/her our love and commitment to you through our actions.

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

The ancients built a temple to house you.  Our ancestors built massive cathedrals to impress of your glory.  Human construction pales in magnificence to a single flower, created by you.  May we worship you by restoring your creation

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

You have bestowed us with many gifts.  May we use the gifts of medicine, security, family and community to comfort and heal those who are weak, especially Pam Janes, Louise Price, Jean Seaward and those known to us who we now name either silently or aloud (pause…).

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

We honour the lives of those who left earthly existence to join you in glory (especially…).  May we learn from their examples of service to you.

Almighty God: We Belong to the Truth

You taught us that in serving one another and creation, we serve you.  See us glorify you through our service to the truth.

Amen.

The prayer of the people this week are written by Rick Hibbs.

Image copyright Steve Penly.

Prayers of the People for the 24th Sunday After Pentecost

Creator God, you call us to love and serve you with body, mind and spirit through loving your creation and our sisters and brothers. Open our hearts in compassion and receive these petitions on behalf of the needs of the church and the world.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

We pray for the church and especially for Justin, Archbishop of Canterbury; for the Anglican Church of Canada and the work of the church within the lives of women, men, and children around the world; we pray for the Anglican Church in Australia and the parish of St. Timothy in Rigolet and the parish of Stephenville Crossing. May each faith community faithfully carry out Your work in the world.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

In this time of discernment, as we seek a new Rector to lead our parish community, we pray that as a parish we find ever more ways to engage the people around us, to grow in fellowship, and ensure that everyone sees You in us.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

Dear God, your people are burdened  with many troubles and worries. Climate change, poverty, hunger, abuse, loneliness and disease. We ask that you visit your people and pour out your strength and courage upon us. Help us to see the signs of the times, to not lose hope, and to act boldly with care and compassion for all people and all creation.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

God of mercy and healing, you hear the cries of those in need, we ask that you help those who are suffering. We pray especially for Pam Janes, Louise Price, Jean Seaward and those known to us who we now name either silently or aloud (pause…). May the power of your spirit comfort all who suffer.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

We pray for eternal peace for the recently deceased, (especially …………….). We give thanks for their lives and ask that you enfold their loved ones in the consoling light of Christ and the supportive empathy of their friends and faith community.

O God, guide Your people. Let us be bearers of the Good News.

Holy One, hear our prayers and make us faithful stewards of the fragile bounty of this earth that we may be entrusted with the riches of heaven. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

The prayers of the people for this week are written by Marilyn Beaton.

The Prayers of the People for the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls

On this All Saints Day we remember all those who have gone before us in faith. We are all pilgrims on a spiritual journey learning what it means to love our neighbour in justice, kindness and walking humbly with our God. Hear us, Oh God as we pray: Your mercy is great.

Let us pray for the church and all who minister within our parish community, that we may be faithful stewards of our time, talent, and treasure. Locally we pray for the Parish of St. Michaels and All Angels in St. John’s and the Parish of St. Peter in Upper Gullies, and globally for The Diocese of Guyana and The Episcopal/Anglican Province of Alexandria. Help us to support them as they faithfully carry out the message of your Gospel.

Hear us, Oh God: Your mercy is great.

We pray for Aurora Ruby Rosemary who is to receive the sacrament of baptism. As we welcome Aurora into the family of God, may we do all in our power to support her and her family in their life in Christ.

Hear us, Oh God: Your mercy is great.

God of creation, we marvel at the world you have made: the skies, the oceans, the forests and all of your creatures. Help us to remember that we are in relationship with your design and that we have a responsibility to care for all creation. Guide us to be mindful of the consequences of the climate crisis: flooding, rising sea levels, droughts, and rising temperatures. Help us to support those who advocate for sustainable change.

Hear us, Oh God: Your mercy is great.

God of justice, you cross boundaries and come to us in the faces of those crying out from the margins. We pray for those who are excluded and constantly denied a seat at the table. Help us to listen with compassion and kindness, to break down barriers, and to respond when we are invited to allyship with our siblings within our communities and throughout the world.

Hear us, Oh God: Your mercy is great.

God of comfort, we pray for those who are sick, lonely, suffering in silence, separated from their families, and isolated from their communities. We pray especially for Pam Janes, Louise Price, Jean Seaward and those whom we name in our hearts silently or aloud. (Pause) We trust in your Spirit’s power and presence to bring solace and strength where it is needed.

Hear us, Oh God: Your mercy is great.

God of compassion, as we commemorate the feast of All Soul’s we pause to remember all those from our parish community who have died this past year: Howard Hodder, George Pike, Doris Cook, Louise Major, Lloyd Ash, Janet Chalker, Robert Green, Wayne Seymour, Mary Belbin, Gerald Bannister, Clark Howell, Lee Shinkle and any other loved ones we wish to name in our hearts silently or aloud (pause).  Help us to follow their example until we all gather again in everlasting life.

Hear us, Oh God, Your mercy is great.

We lift these prayers to you oh God, that they may be acceptable in your sight. Help us to answer your call to discipleship this day and every day, and to walk alongside our neighbours lovingly in Christ’s name. Amen

The prayers of the people for this week are written by Victoria Featherston.

When God Was a Bird: A Sermon for the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi (Season of Creation)

Creation stories are universal.  All cultures have stories of how the universe came into being.  It is a basic human desire to understand why we are here, where we came from, as a part of our journey as people. The myths of our ancestors try to do just that, not with a scientific reductionism that simply asks how, but with a more theological why.  This is true of the creation myth we read from Genesis, and it is also true of the many, many myths that indigenous and first nations people tell about why the world was created. Some of you may be freaked out by that word myth, but we should not.  Myth does not mean false or not factual, but means that the story in question contains a truth beyond facts.  Myths are truer than true.

In the Mi’gmaq creation story, the Giver of Life creates everything.  Creation is mysterious.  It contains everything, and everything is contained within it.  Life itself comes from Grandfather Sun.  Mother Earth is the sustainer of life through the gifts of rivers, forests, mountains, fish, animals and plants.  The first human is created by a series of lightening strikes hitting the ground.  This human is formed of the elements of earth.  A bald eagle descends to the first human with a message from the Giver of Life, Grandfather Sun, and Mother Earth that soon other family would come to help him understand his place in the world.  The first human then receives visits from Grandmother Rock, Nephew Grass and Mother Leaf.  The human then calls on the rest of creation to help in sustaining the Mi’gmaq people.  He also calls on the wind to blow on the sparks left from the original lightening strike, thus giving rise to Great Spirit Fire that in turn gives rise to other tribes.

In the Inuit story of creation, it is the Raven that makes the earth and the waters with the beats of its wings.  Raven takes the forms of a man and a raven interchangeably by lifting or lowering its beak like a mask.  At first the earth is quiet and dark, only mountains and waters have been created, although raven has planted some pea pods.  After five days one of the pods burst open and out pops a fully formed human.  The human is the first of the creatures to walk on Raven’s earth.  The human nourishes itself with some water from a nearby pool, but it is still weak.  As Raven soars high above the creation, he notices the movement of the human and descends to see what it is.  For a long time, the Raven and the human stare at each other.  Finally Raven asks, “Who are you and where did you come from?”  The human points to the empty pea pod and says, “I came from the pea pod.”  The Raven is astonished at the turn of events but is pleased nonetheless that there is someone to inhabit the land.  Raven flies off to forage for food for the human and returns with berries.  Raven sees that this will not sustain this hungry creature, so Raven creates fish, birds, and animals from the clay of the mountains to feed the human.

The Mohawk and other First Nations peoples tell a story of creation that features the Sky Woman.  She falls as a beam of light from a hole in the Sky World.  Her fall is noticed by a flock of birds who fly to catch her.  They descend with her pregnant body toward the watery world that creation is at the time.  They spot a sea turtle and ask if they can place the Sky Woman on its back.  It agrees and the Sky Woman is lowered onto its back.  The sea animals bring soil from the depths of the water and place it on the back of the sea turtle.  The Sky Woman is pleased and at home with the gift and she begins to dance.  As she dances, the turtle and the soil begin to grow, and soon the earth is formed.  The gifts that the woman brings from the Sky World are strawberries, tobacco, sweetgrass and corn – these are the medicines of creation.  The Sky Woman is the origin of human life on Turtle Island.

In the Genesis reading we are given the first of two creation stories.  We tend to read this story as God creating out of nothing, creating with a booming voice, God distant and separate from what is being created.  But a closer reading shows otherwise.

First of all, there is not nothing.  The earth is a formless void, or formless and void.  In Hebrew that is tohu wa bohu and is better translated as ‘wild and waste’.  The Message translation says that the earth was a “soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness.”

There is also the deep, or tehom.  In other creation myths of this time, the gods must overcome the sea or a sea monster in order to create.  The sea (or the sea monster) symbolizes chaos and disorder.  These myths are often violent, filled with murder and bloodshed.  But as we know, that is not the case in the Genesis story.

So, we have the raw stuff of creation, the wild and waste of the chaotic deep.  Enter the ruach – the spirit, the wind, the breath of God, Elohim.  Our translation reads that “while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”  Wait a minute!  Are we reading this right?  So “while” there is waste and void, and darkness over the face of the deep, the spirit of God is moving…doing something?  The verb that is used here is hard to pin down.  It can mean move or settle, but it can also mean to move in a rhythmic pattern, to pulsate.  Kind of like a bird flapping its wings, or the rhythmic beating of a drum, or like a heartbeat.  Maybe it’s no accident that the same verb is used in Deuteronomy 32:11 to describe a mother eagle hovering or brooding over her nest.  Imagine God, the Holy Spirit, a mother bird, hovering and brooding over an unborn, unformed creation, incubating, and nurturing it to life.  God is giving birth to life, to creation.

There is also a lot of argument about the phrase, ‘in the beginning’.  The text could be saying “in the beginning, when God created,” or it could be saying “When God began to create.”  The latter would seem to imply that this bringing to life, this incubation, this reorganizing of the wild and waste and chaos, the dispelling of the darkness is an ongoing process.  God has only begun to create, to call light to darkness, to bring forth life.  Perhaps we are still only in the first moments of creation and there is more and more and more to come.  And even at the end of the creation story, when it says that creation is finished and that God rests, could we not interpret that to mean that the work of creation is thrown back to us, left is our hands?  Like the hymn that says that we have been called “To be God’s co-creators, in new and wondrous ways.”

So let’s put it all together to reimagine the beginning of this all-too-familiar, perhaps much-too-familiar creation story.

“When God first began to create all that there is, the earth was wild and waste, there was darkness over the deep chaotic waters, while the Spirit of God was hovering, brooding, pulsating, incubating over the wild, waste of chaos.  Then God said, in the pangs of birth, light, and there was light…and it was good.  And then day and night.  And then the sky and atmosphere.  And then land and oceans and plants.  And then the stars and moons.  And then fish and birds.  And then animals and all creeping things and human beings.  And God looked at what was being born and said, ‘ahh yes, good, good, very good.’“

And maybe we could then read John’s creation story as a continuation of that ongoing creation story from Genesis.  After all, Jesus’ story begins with a birth narrative.  Jesus is the word, another loaded word, that means way more than the spoken word.  It is all the wonder and mystery of creation; the wisdom of the birthing Spirit; the divine light and spark of the cosmos coming to birth in a human being, the fruit of creation.  In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.  This light shines into a creation that is still often void, waste and wild, a chaotic mess, but this light cannot be overcome.  And that light, the light of creation, the light that was birthed by the spirit, is now in us.  In fact, I think it always was in us, the whole human family.  The light of creation, the light of God, pulses in each and every one of us.  In Jesus we see a fuller picture of God’s plan and intention for all people and all creation.  Jesus, who shows us a God that longs to gather us together, as a mother hen gathers her chicks under the warm, nurturing embrace of her wings.

In the West we have gotten this story so wrong.  The story about God’s nurture and care of creation, and our place within it, has been distorted by thoughts of dominion, domination and profit.  We view creation as something separate from us, outside of us.  We see our own fellow human beings as just the cost of doing business.  This hasn’t gone well for us and the planet.  So much so that we are at a crisis point for our species and the habitability of our planet.  The climate crisis threatens our very existence and the existence of plants, animals, birds, rivers, forests and oceans.  And we are at a time of economic inequality and injustice that threatens the very fabric of our society.  We cannot continue on like this. Something has to change.  We have to change.  We need to listen to the voices that are urging us, calling us, to find a better way.  The voices of indigenous people, who have always known our place within the created order and our responsibility to care for creation.  The voices of our youth, a generation whose future is in peril, who call us from the errors of our selfish ambition and wanton disregard for creation.  The voices of prophets like St. Francis of Assisi, who knew well our intimate connection and relationship with sister moon and brother sun.  And we need to reimagine our own story and our own understanding of God.  It’s time to leave behind the all-powerful, distant God, who angrily watches from afar, demanding purity as a gateway to an escape from this world.  It’s time to embrace and be embraced by the God who mothers, broods over creation; the Great Spirit, whose purpose is here and now, among all people, in all creation, unfolding in wonder and mystery, with justice, compassion and welcome for all.  And may this be our prayer in the name of God who is creator, redeemer and sustainer of all life.  Amen.

The scripture readings are from Genesis and the Gospel of John.

The title for this sermon is inspired by the Mark Wallace book When God Was a Bird: Christianity, Animism, and the Re-Enchantment of the World.

Photo credit: Don Mallette

The Prayers of the People for St. Francis of Assisi (Season of Creation)

God of Abundance, in gratitude we give thanks for the sun, for water, for soil, for air.  All life depends on these elements. When you made a world filled with a diversity of living beings, you saw that it was good. We come to you today to answer the need for an increased reverence for this planet Earth that we may use its resources rightly in the service of others and to your honour and glory saying Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us.

We pray for your blessings on all who spread the good news of your creation through the world. We remember the Church in Wales and the parishes of St. Lawrence/Portugal Cove and St. Luke, Springdale.  We thank you particularly for those clergy dear to us who, with their time and care, help us know you better. Make us sensitive to the impossible time demands placed on them.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us.

You saw that your creation was good yet the planet has been pushed beyond its limits: habitats are lost, species disappear, and systems fail. Due to the actions of humans, the earth is crying out, groaning for help. We ask that, in such a challenging situation you will give us the hope and the determination to labour alongside all who strive for renewed care for our common home.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us

Instead of your sanctuary, we now have a crisis with increasing numbers of animal species facing extinction. Let us be guided, by the example of St. Francis of Assisi, who saw your face in all you created in the natural world. Help us to change our priorities so we may be custodians not threats to creatures around us. Help us to realize that we have a special responsibility to care for all creation.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us.

In this time of increased cases of Covid 19, encourage us remain calm and ignore unsubstantiated rumours. Encourage us to foster respect and solidarity with others by following recommended guidelines. Encourage us to show our compassion to the whole human family by doing our part to control the spread of this virus.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us.

Today we pray for those losing homes and livelihoods due to climate change; those who have become climate refugees; those facing famine because the land can no longer provide. In our parish we entrust to your care Pam Janes, Robert Jones, Louise Price, Thalia Marie and others known to us named silently or aloud. . .(pause)  We trust in your Spirit’s power to bring solace and strength where it is needed.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us.

We entrust into your merciful care those who have died recently. May we provide compassion and support to all who grieve.

Lord of Creation: in your mercy, hear us

We give thanks Lord for this earthly sanctuary filled with your presence, a home for us to share, and we stand before you to accept a responsibility to care for your creation. Be with us as we accept the call to work together to renew our planet so that every generation will know your love of all creation. Amen

The prayers of the people this week are written by Lois Jeffery.