Silly But Fruitful: A Homily for the Fifth Sunday After Pentecost

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, and Good Shepherd, Stayner, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, on Sunday, July 13, 2025, the Fifth Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 15C).  Readings for this Sunday: Amos 7:7-17, Psalm 82, Colossians 1:1-14, Luke 10:25-35

 9 For this reason, since the day we heard it, we have not ceased praying for you and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of God’s[ will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, 10 so that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God (Colossions 5:9-10)

I had a wonderful time this past week with our friends at Prince of Peace, Wasaga Beach, who put on a vacation bible camp which retold the CS Lewis book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe over five days.   

The children got to reenact scenes from the book, and got to meet characters such as Mr and Mrs Beaver, the evil White Witch, and of course the lion Aslan.   Besides crafts and games, the children got to learn some of the key themes from the book:  truthfulness, loyalty, hope and forgiveness, and the promise that love righteousness always triumphs over evil and cruelty.  It was a very effective piece of children’s ministry, involving the talents and energies of many volunteers, particularly Val Beasley from Prince of Peace who wrote the script, designed the crafts, and made wonderful masks such as the one I wore as Aslan.

I thought the week was also a wonderful example of how our regional ministry can come together to produce results that one church alone can’t manage.   While the summer vacation bible camp is a Prince of Peace tradition, it involved children from Good Shepherd in Stayner and every day began and ended with a singsong led by the wonderful Gren Bray, who also made a cameo appearance as Father Christmas.  

One of the songs that Gren taught us over the week is relevant to our second reading, from Colossians.  The song is about the Pauline idea of fruits of the spirit, which Paul mentions in passing in our first reading, and elsewhere lists (Gal 5.22-23), a list which inspires this silly song, and because it left me with a terrible case of earworm, I think it’s only fair that you suffer with me.  So here is the song, complete with a prop.

The fruit of the Spirit's not a BANANA

The fruit of the Spirit's not a BANANA

If you wanna be a BANANA

You might as well hear it

You can't be a fruit of the Spirit

[Chorus]

'Cause the fruit is

Love, joy, peace, patience

Kindness, goodness, faithfulness

Gentleness and self-control

Love, joy, peace, patience

Kindness, goodness, faithfulness

Gentleness and self-control, oh

If you can’t get that tune out of the head for the rest of the day, then my work here is done.

Well, my work’s not really done, because this was a fun if long lead-in to some very brief comments (brief because it’s hot) on some of our readings today, starting with Colossians.

Our first reading is from the opening of Paul’s letter to the Christian church in Colossae, a Roman colony in the west of what is now Turkey.    There is some entertaining and helpful background on the themes of Colossians here:  https://bibleproject.com/guides/book-of-colossians/, though I only have time to focus on our reading, which is one big long introduction to a letter.

In this greeting, Paul praises the members of this church for their faithfulness and for accepting the salvation that comes from Jesus Christ, who has “rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption,[h] the forgiveness of sins( Col 1:13-14).   

Now we might think that a Christian community that lives in a pagan city where their neighbours worship the Roman gods might be self-satisfied, insular, and judgmental.    After all, they now live in the kingdom of Jesus, while their neighbours still languish in sin and darkness.     Indeed, there is a widespread perception in the world today that Christians are like this, and one of the temptations of Christian belief is that we fall into an us vs them mindset of self-righteousness that cuts us off from those we judge to be sinners and outsiders.  This is of course Pride Weekend in Collingwood, and I’m sure you can all think of ways that debates about sexual orientation have led many to this sort of mindset.

But, as our silly song taught us, the fruits of the spirit are about the way of life that Jesus calls us to.   A Christian community that congratulated itself on being saved and tight with God, while condemning those outside it as godless sinners, would I think be singularly lacking in the fruits of the spirit.   Are there limits to love?  Can we gentle to just those we like?  How much goodness is required of us?

Today’s gospel reading from Luke 10 tells us without any doubt that the fruits of the spirit, if they are real and truly from God, are for all to receive.    The Parable of the Good Samaritan is so well known and so often preached on that it may be hard to hear with fresh ears.   I think all I need to say about it today is that it is prompted by a question, “who is my neighbour”, and instead answers another question, “how should I treat my neighbour”?

The incredible generosity of the Samaritan, a member of a group despised by most Jews, is a beautiful illustration of the fruits of the spirit in action.  The kindness, gentleness and love given by the Samaritan man to this stranger are in stark contrast to the indifference of the first two men, the priest and the levite, who would doubtless congratulate themselves for being tight with God but whose actions show no godliness, only rotten fruit.

Today we are reminded that the fruits of the spirit are gifts from God but also signs of a life given over to following Jesus.   The spiritually fruitful life does not limit itself to certain neighbours, it bears fruit for all in need.    These are good lessons for a children’s song, and good lessons for adults as well.  It is also a good lesson to hear during our town’s Pride Weekend.  The parade floats Joy and I saw yesterday celebrated things like love and inclusion, and if those messages lead people to be spiritually fruitful, then who are we to argue with them?

The General Humbled and Cured: A Homily for the Fourth Sunday After Pentecost

A homily for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost,  Proper 14C.   Readings for this Sunday:  Preached at Prince of Peace, Wasaga Beach, and St Luke’s, Creemore.

Readings for this Sunday: 2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30; Galatians 6:(1-6),7-16; Luke 10:1-11,16-20

“Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man, and in high favour with his master” (2 Ki 5.`)

Today I’d like us to spend some time thinking about our first lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures, which I think is one of the best and finest stories in scripture.    The two Books of Kings are full of stories about the kings of Israel and Judah, their enemies, and their relationships with God and with God’s prophets.   Some of these kings are wise and faithful, but most, not so much.  Usually in these stories, it’s the prophets that are the voices we should pay attention to, and not the kings.   

In today’s except from Second Kings, we are introduced to quite a range of characters: a general, several kings, a slave girl, and a prophet.  Which one of these characters do you think is the most important, the one we should pay attention to?

 

If you said the general, that would be understandable, because we can all have images of generals.  Perhaps you imagine someone with a stern expression and an impressive collection of medals, someone who looks like they get things done.   If you’re of a certain vintage, you might think of George C Scott in the movie Patton, standing in front of that giant American flag, mean and convinced of his own reputation.

(Of course, as Canadians, we might think of Jennie Carnigan, our top soldier, throwing out the first pitch at the Blue Jays game on Canada Day, friendly and approachable, but that’s another image altogether!)

I suspect Naaman from our first reading is more in tune with the traditional idea of an army general as a swaggering, authoritative sort  of figure, more like Patton than Carnigan.  Naaman is from Aram, which is the biblical name for Syria, a neighbour and ancient rival of Israel and Judea.   We’re told that “the Lord has given victory to Naaman”, which may seem odd seeing as he’s not an Israelite. But in the Old Testament often God gives the upper hand to the enemy when Israel needs to be punished.   And that mention of “the Lord” at the beginning is a hint as to who this story is really about.

 So Naaman is a mighty general, he travels with “horses and chariots”, which seems a very impressive sort of thing to do.  But there’s one problem - he has leprosy, which makes him human.   He needs to be cured, and that’s when we meet the second character in the story.

This character doesn’t have a name, she’s a slave girl, an Israeiite, and she’s far from home and is the maid of Naaman’s wife.  But she remembers her home, and she remembers that there is a holy man, a prophet, who could heal her master.  Often in the Old Testmanent it’s a humble character, often a women, like this who sets things in motion - think of the Hebrew woman who puts Moses in a basket in the Nile to save him.

As is often the case, a woman’s ideas aren’t really listened to.  Naaman goes to the king of Aram, tells him there’s a guy in Israel who could heal him, so the king gives him a bunch of presents for the King of Israel and a letter saying “Hey, King of Israel, please heal my guy Naaman.”  Now the slave girl didn’t say anything about the King of Israel, she said it was a prophet who could heal Naaman, but I guess the King of Aram, being a king, just assumed that another king could help.   Important people seem to assume that other important people make things happen.

 As I said, there’s a lot of humour in this story, and part of it comes from the king of Israel’s reaction, which is basically a loud scream that echoes through his palace.  The poor king is at least self aware enough to know that he’s not a doctor or a prophet, and has no power to heal anyone, so he assumes that this is some sort of trap, and Aram will invade because he hasn’t been able to help Naaman.    So all he does is rip his clothes and complain.  At this point, we might well ask, how come a young Israelite slave girl in Aram knows that there is a prophet in Israel but the King of Israel doesn’t know this?  Not a good look for the King of Israel.

Fortunately word gets out that the King of Israel is complaining and pouting, because word gets to Elisha, and here we have to stop and remind ourselves of who Elisha is.   It’s confusing, because there are two prophets in Kings, Elijah, who comes first, and then Elisha, who Elijah takes on as his pupil.   Think of Elisha as a Jedi padwan in Star Wars if that helps.   After Elijah is taken up into heaven, Elisha takes over.

Elisha is a faithful prophet, he can perform miracles but he’s kinda cranky.  There’s a story in Kings about how a group of kids follow him one day and make fun of him because he’s bald, so Elisha curses them and at that point two bears come out of woods and maul the children  (2 Kings 223-24).  Not surprisingly, he sends a slightly cranky message back to the King of Israel, basically “Why are you making such a fuss, I’m the prophet, send this guy Naaman to me”.

Did I mention that Elisha was cranky?  Another seen that makes me laugh is when Naaman and all his horses and chariots are parked outside Elisha’s house.   I’m not sure what Naaman was expecting, he was probably used to red carpets and people making a fuss over him, but all he gets is a message from the house saying “go wash in the river Jordan seven times”.   

Elisha isn’t the only one who’s cranky.  The mighty (but leprous) Naaman is highly offended, not only because this prophet wouldn’t come out and give him some sort of personal prophet treatment,  but because (and this is a weird bit of nationalistic pride), if all he had to do was dip in a river, well, he could have stayed home in Aram where they have better rivers!  Harrumph!  Fortunately, Naaman gets good “what have you got to lose” advice, does the seven dips in the Jordan, and is cured.

So other than a few chuckles (I hope you agree with me that there is humour in this story), what can we take away from it?    I would say the first and major lesson would be that God is in charge.  When we think of powerful generals in the Hebrew Scriptures, we might think of the Egyptian army, also with horses and chariots, that is swept away in the Red Sea.  Scripture is always suspicious of military power, which is why Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey instead of in a general’s chariot.   In our age of dictators that increasingly seems to value military might, this seems like an important lesson.

Also, I think the lesson says something about the generosity of God and how God’s grace and favour isn’t confined to just one people.   Naaman is a soldier who is an outsider, a non-Jew.   In the sequel to this story, he returns to thank Elisha, and says that he now realizes that the God if Israel is greater than the gods of Aram.   He thus reminds us of people like the centurion Cornelius who is baptized with his family by Peter (Acts 10) or the centurion at the foot of the cross who recognizes that Jesus is the son of God.

Finally, we see here, with the servant girl and with Elisha, who was a farmer before Elijah chose him to be a prophet, a lifting up of the humble and lowly that runs all through scripture.    Today’s story began with kings and a general, and ended up reminding us that these people can be blinded by their own power, whereas the humble see the saving power of God clearly.   May it be so with us.

 

God Wants to Move In: A Homily for the Seventh Sunday of Easter

 

“I made your name known to them, and I will make it know, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them”  (Jn 17.21).

 

Last month I came across a commencement speech that was widely quoted in the media; it delivered lastmonth by Jay Powell to graduates of his alma mater, Princeton University.  Jay Powell is the Chair of the US Federal Reserve and may be one of the few adults keeping the US together.   It was a really good speech, and had a lot to say about the importance of personal integrity.  It also included an anecdote that made me think of how we sometimes think of prayer, the subject of my homily today.

Powell told the story of how, when he was a very junior partner at a prestigious law firm, he decided to make an impression on the senior partner, a VIP who had been a US Senator.   As Powell described it, he worked up the nerve to climb the stairs to the corner audience, had a very brief meeting, and left thinking, “well at least I tried”, but he made an impression and that helped his career.

I think many of us find it difficult to pray because we think of God like the senior partner in Powell’s story.    We think that we have to address God like some august personage, “Excuse me sir, sorry to trouble you, but f you don’t mind, could you please help with….”

What if there was another way of thinking about prayer, as something that didn’t look like a formal audience, but rather something that looked  like an intimate conversation with a loved one or dear friend.?  That’s the kind of prayer we hear in today’s gospel, from John 17, when Jesus prays to his father for his friends.

So a little background:  Today’s gospel reading from John 17 takes us back to territory we last visited on Maundy Thursday during Holy Week.   It’s the night of Jesus’ arrest, his last moments with his disciples.

Unlike in the Synoptic Gospels John has no account of the last supper.  Instead, after Jesus washes his friends’ feet, he has a long conversation (Jn 13-17) where he says that he must soon leave them (a dual reference to his death but also to his ascension which the church remembered this last Friday).   He also promises them that he will not leave them alone, which reminds us that next Sunday is Pentecost, the gift of the Holy Spirit.

The remarkable thing about Jn 17 is that by this point Jesus is not talking to the disciples.   He is talking to his Father, and he is praying for the disciples – and for us.  Jesus’ words, “I ask”, are the words of prayer.    So the disciples are actually overhearing Jesus pray for them, which is something we only see in John’s account of Jesus’ arrest. 

When you are going through a difficult time, does it make a difference knowing that others, people of deep faith, are praying for you?   Everyone I’ve put this question to has said absolutely, yet it does.    I wonder what that experience was like for you if the person praying for was with you, sitting with you, so you could hear their words, their tone of voice?   When people have been with me and prayed for me, at first I found it a little awkward, but I quickly came to appreciate how intimate and caring it can be to know that someone values you enough to speak to God on your behalf!

I think the same thing is true of today’s gospel, where the disciples learn that God the Son cares enough about them to speak to God the Father on their behalf.   In the Synoptic Gospels, the night of his arrest, Jesus prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane but we don’t hear his words, except for his prayer that he might be spared the cross unless it was his Father’s will (Mt 26.39).

John however lets us hear everything that Jesus prays, so what does he pray for?   Despite the convoluted language, the prayer is quite simple.  Jesus prays that his friends, including us, know the same love that exists between Jesus and his Father.   He prays that his friends may be drawn together by this love, so close that they become one, as Jesus and the father are one, and that this love might fill the lives and hearts of his friends.   At least, that’s what I make of it (I dreaded translating passages from John in my seminary Greek classes, but here I think I get the gist of it).

It's an astonishing moment when you think about it.  The disciples are overhearing a conversation of the Holy Trinity, Jesus speaking to God the Father on their behalf, asking for their welfare and the welfare of all who believe after them (as I said, us).   As one commentator has noted, it is a  wonder that the Father and the Son spend their time discussing the likes of us and our little community of faith”, but that shows the love and concern that God has for us, that God wants to draw us into the relationship of the Trinity, “so that the love which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them” (Jn 17.26).

If you only take away one thing from this homily, may it be this, that God loves you so much that God wants to include you in the love and relationship that exists within the three persons of God the Trinity:  Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.   Last Sunday in her very fine homily, our curate Rev. Amy spoke about how we can know Jesus better if we focus more on him and less on ourselves.  

Amy’s words made me think of decluttering a house, emptying the attic and basement of useless things that just take up space.  If we think of the soul as a house, the clutter we need to remove could be our sense of self-importance, our grievances, our feelings of entitlement – all need to go to make room for God.  And the good news is that God can’t wait to fill up that space, can’t wait to move into your soul, “so that the love which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them” (Jn 17.26).

So how do we pray for this occupancy to happen?  How do we pray for God to fill the space, the emptiness, within us?  Or, if you are with someone and you feel moved to pray for them in your presence, how do you pray that you might find words to fill that moment that might initially seem awkward?   If you can’t think of any words, you can’t go wrong with the prayer from our second reading today, the prayer that ends the Book of Revelation, “come Lord Jesus” (Rev 22.20).  Start with that prayer, and the Holy Spirit will fill in the space.

May God give us all the grace and confidence to pray, and the soul friends to pray with us and for us.