Without Partiality: A Homily on Hunger and the Epistle of James

 Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto,  8 September, 2024, the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost.  Readings for this Sunday:  Pr 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23; Ps 125; Jas 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17; Mk 7:24-37

My brothers and sisters, do not claim the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ of glory while showing partiality. (James 2.1)

Today we continue to hear from the Epistle of James.  No book in the New Testament outside the gospels spells out our duty as followers of Jesus in such a clear and uncompromising way.   One of James’ key words is “partiality”, by which he means our human tendency to show more attention and regard to the rich and the well off than we do to the poor and the humble.    I’ll come back to this idea in James in a moment, but first let’s take a little trip down Highway 26 to see what  James might ask us to see in today’s world.

As most of you know, my wife Joy and I are from Barrie and we still maintain a foot there.   I moved there a decade ago, when I was posted to CFB Borden, and I got to know Barrie quite well because I was a runner.   One of my routes took me through Berczy Park, which is several acres of forest and trails just north of the downtown.  It’s surrounded by older homes and high rises.    Joy’s mother’s retirement home is on one side.   

Berczy Park is a case study for homelessness in Canada.   In the last few weeks it’s been in the local news because a homeless encampment has taken root there, with about a dozen tents according to the local news.   Local residents have raised concerns to the media about safety issues, and one home owner complained that she may not be able to sell her two million dollar house because it is next to the park.  As of several days ago, the City of Barrie had ticketed those camping in the park, but had not evicted them.

Berczy Park is just one small example of a problem that seems to be both everywhere and insoluble.   It’s thought that there are some six hundred homeless or underhoused people in Barrie, and as many as 1200 throughout Simcoe County.   The causes are various and complex:  drug  and alcohol addiction, a shortage of living wage employment, not enough affordable housing, and a mental health crisis.   It’s a toxic brew.

These problems often feed off one another and they create dangerous situations for everyone.   Several random stabbings have set Barrie on edge and have been blamed on homeless people, but talk to some of the people who come to our Friendship Dinners and they’ll tell you that the shelters and the encampments are dangerous for the homeless.   So homelessness is a problem that affects all of us because it degrades the quality of life for our communities.  So who should fix it?

The City of Barrie wants to ticket and evict the people in the park, but under Ontario law they can only do that if local agencies can provide shelter beds for the people being evicted.  In the longterm, homelessness and affordable housing are a problem for the County, and while Simcoe County wants to build more affordable housing in Barrie, that will take time.  So in the short time, it’s up to the nearby Busby Centre to operate more shelter beds.   Those of you with long memories will recall that Busby started off as a faith organization, founded by the Rev. David Busby, who was then the rector of Trinity Anglican Church in Barrie.  And that brings us to the role of churches in all of this.

Churches and faith communities have been helping the poor and the homeless from the beginning, and in part we have our second reading, the Epistle of James to thank for this.  Tradition holds that the James who wrote it was the brother of Jesus, so he may well have heard his brother say that “whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me” (Mt 25.40).  Even if somebody else wrote the Letter using the honoured name of James, the message is clear.  As the Letter famously exhorts us, we can’t just hear the word of God, we have to put our faith into action and be “doers of the word” (Ja 1.23).    And the word that we must put into action s distilled into one of Jesus’ core teachings, as we heard today, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Ja 2.8).

The Letter of James is written with an acute awareness of the gaps between rich and poor.   As this letter was shared and passed between the first churches throughout the Roman Empire (“the twelve tribes in the Dispersion” (Ja 1.1), those churches would have lived with those differences.   

The city of Rome itself at the time would have had one million inhabitants, and historians estimate that a third of that population would have been “desperately poor”, living in slums or worse.  We can imagine people of all social classes being interested in this new religion from Palestine, and James is clear that if someone with “gold rings and in fine clothes” were to visit a church, they should not get “partiality” or special treatment.

That word “partiality” does some heavy lifting in scripture.   One of the traditional readings on Easter Sunday is from Acts, when Peter preaches a sermon defending the baptism of the first Gentiles.   “I truly understand”, Peter says, “ that God shows no partiality but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts 10.34).   In other words, and this is the theology of the Epistle of James, all people are equal and valuable in God’s sight, and all can become citizens of the kingdom of God if they wish to be.

So our calling as the people of God is to see those around us without “partiality”.    At the same time, we need to be clear-eyed the challenges of our calling when it comes to homelessness.   As we noted earlier, this are massive social problems, and churches aren’t well-equipped to deal with them.    I mentioned the Busby Centre, and while it was started in the basement of an Anglican church, it soon became too much for that church to handle.  Similarly, many downtown churches across Canada tried offering winter shelter space but most ended these ministries when they discovered the challenges of keeping people safe and secure.    

However, there are many reasons to be encouraged.   Trinity Church in Barrie, where the Busby Centre started, has a new partnership with an organization called Care Without Borders.  They host a community nurse and a social worker who are working with Barrie’s homeless population.   Other churches in the area have plans to help build geared-to-income housing.  So the church still has a role to play.

Our approach at All Saints has been to focus on food insecurity.   We welcome all for our Friendship Dinners, and last Wednesday our Five Loaves program sent 100 hot and nutritious meals out the door.  Many of these were delivered to by our friends at the Collingwood Mobile Soup Kitchen, who know were the greatest need is in our community.    I’m very proud of the volunteers who make these programs possible.

This week we’ve taken another step to be doers of the word and to show love without partiality.   On Elgin Street, just beneath the kitchen, you will notice one of those little food pantries that more and more churches are offering.   Ours will be stocked regularly with non-perishable food offerings as well as hygiene items and some warm-weather items.   We will welcome contributions to keep the pantry stocked, and inside your bulletin today you will find a list of suggested items.    All contributions can be left in the  containers by the church doors and will be gratefully accepted.

A small pantry may seem like a drop in an ocean of need, but it’s a sign that we see the need and we hear our calling, to show our faith by word and deed without partiality.

Knowledge of Salvation: A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent.

Preached at All Saints, King City, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, Sunday, December 5, 2021.  Texts for this Sunday (Yr C): Mal 3.1-4; C 19 (Lk 1:68-79); Phil 1:3-11; Lk 3:1-6.

 

⁷⁶And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, ⁷⁷to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. (Like 1:78-79)

“To give knowledge of salvation”.   These words are given by the Holy Spirit to the priest Zechariah after the birth of his son John, who we know as John the Baptist.   Now the birth of John to two aged and infertile parents was miraculous enough, but, says Zechariah, an even greater miracle is coming and John will be its messenger.    John will bring “knowledge of salvation” to his people by the forgiveness of their sins”.

Advent is, as I said last Sunday, many things besides a Christmas countdown.   Chiefly, I think, it is when we the church celebrate the message of the John, spoken in the wilderness, that we “shall see the salvation of God” (Lk 3.6).   Advent is about salvation, and Advent tells is that salvation is something real and certain and factual, something that we can have knowledge about and something that we can see with our own eyes.

Salvation is what we celebrate.   It’s what we’re all about as church and as disciples of the one we call our Saviour, Jesus Christ.  So what does “knowledge of salvation” mean to you?   What does salvation look like to you.   Do we understand salvation?  Can we be certain of our salvation ?   Can we explain salvation to others?

This last week I had the amazing experience of being in a room full of people who know what their salvation looks like and who can talk about salvation with confidence.

I met these people at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, the first one I’ve ever attended.   Someone who is dear to me had asked me to come as a guest and see them receive their One Year Sober medallion.   I was not prepared for what a powerful experience this would prove to be. There was so much spirituality, honesty, courage and love in the room that I walked away thinking, “if church was like this, we’d have standing room only on Sundays”.

Here's three things that I admired about these people.  

First, I admired their total honesty.  Every one who speaks has to begin by admitting their addiction: “Hello, I’m Joe, and I’m an alcoholic”.   Each time someone introduced themselves that way, it didn’t seem rote to me.   Each speaker seemed to recognize that they had been in the thrall of something dark and powerful that had blighted their lives.   Often they spoke with a fearlessness that took my breath away. 

The guest speaker, a former policeman, told of how he had hit bottom in his career, about to be fired as a hopeless drunk, and one night he found himself on a meaningless duty in his cruiser with his gun in his mouth while trying to pray the AA serenity prayer.  As he said in his simple, matter of fact way, he felt that prayer was answered, and day by day since then he turned his life around.  That man knew about salvation.

Secondly, I admired their belief in a higher power.  You don’t have to be a Christian to be an AA member.  In fact, the person who invited me calls themselves an atheist.   However, if you know addiction is a power that can control you, as every AA member is painfully aware, then it stands to reason that you believe in a higher power (addiction), and so you believe only an even higher power can save you. 

In place of our psalm this morning, we heard the Canticle from Luke’s gospel, when old Zechariah blesses his son John the Baptizer and Herald of God.  Zechariah says “In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shone on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Lk 1.78-79).  That cop with the gun in his mouth eventually passed out, and woke in the morning with his gun on his lap.  In his despair he had reached out to the God of compassion and in the breaking dawn he found a new life waiting for him.  That man knew who had saved him.

Finally, I admired the love in that room.    Everyone in that room showed obvious and sincere love and support for one another.   I don’t think you could stand up and speak with such vulnerability and honesty without that love and support.  People spoke with pride of how far they had seen one another come, and what a difference they had seen AA make in one another.   I saw this especially in the sponsors, for every AA new AA member is paired with an experienced member, usually an older person, who promises to be there day and night to offer support, help, and advice. 

I think that of that night when I hear St. Paul in our epistle today pray that God make the Philippian church “overflow more and more with [love] and knowledge and full insight” (Phil 1:9).   I think had Paul been there, he would have thanked God for what he saw in that AA meeting.  In fact, another invited guest there with me, a person who knows nothing about church or faith, said afterwards, “I don’t drink but I want to join this group, just because they’re such nice people!”  These people took joy in their salvation.

In summary, these people knew they needed saving, they knew who it was who had saved them, and they took joy in one another’s salvation.   I came away grateful to God for this experience, but as I said I also left wondering how attractive church would be if church people acted this way.

There are reasons why we don’t act this way, of course.    Some are just cultural.  Anglicans are usually restrained people, we let the liturgy carry our emotions and feelings for us, and we don’t use the language of “being saved” or “being born again”.   Fair enough.   Christianity is a big family, and different denominations have different spiritual gifts and languages.

I wonder, though, if we just haven’t thought enough about what salvation really means.    Do we think of salvation as a customs inspection, where our passport of faith and good deeds on earth are checked before we can enter heaven?  If so, then I suggest that this afterlife-based understanding of salvation is impoverished, and ignores Jesus’ many calls to think about the kingdom of heaven as happening in the here and now.

One of my favourite ways of thinking about salvation comes from Jesus’ words in John’s gospel: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10.10).    There are so many dark things and forces in our world that steal and destroy the best things in life.  Addiction is one, as our AA friends know all too well.  But we can find ourselves also hurt and isolated, distrustful, without meaning or purpose or hope, overwhelmed by guilt and self-hatred and doubting that God, if God exists, could ever love us and forgive us.

My friends, this Advent, I encourage you to ask yourselves, what does salvation mean for me?    What is it that I can’t control or handle by myself that I need God’s help with?   Have you asked God for help?  Have you prayed, simply and urgently, for salvation?  I believe that salvation is there for the asking, and there are lots of people in our church who could help you pray for it.

If you know what salvation looks like, if you’ve experienced God’s help and power, then I encourage you to ask yourself,  do I show joy in my salvation?  Do I rejoice that others are here with me, here in the family of God?  Have I done what I could to come alongside someone who is seeking salvation, to be a friend, mentor, and companion?

Let me finish with the same thought I finished with last week.   A church that could talk about salvation with the same confidence and knowledge that an AA meeting talks about salvation would be an awesome and attractive place, because joy and confidence in salvation is the best form of evangelism.

 

The Peace of Jerusalem: A Sermon for Jerusalem Sunday

 

Sunday, May 16. The Seventh Sunday of Easter and Jerusalem Sunday.  Readings for Today:  Acts 1.15-17,21-26; Psalm 1; 1 John 5.9-13; John 17.6-19

 

Since 2013, when the General Synod of our national church voted to affirm our solidarity with the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem, thisSunday in the life of our Canadian church is known as Jerusalem Sunday.  It’s been a day when local churches across Canada are called to learn about our Anglican brothers and sisters in the Middle East, to pray for them, and to assist them in our ministries.

This year Jerusalem Sunday falls in the middle of an especially horrific cycle of violence in the region.  Disputes over evictions of Palestinian families from houses in East Jerusalem, as well as new security restrictions against Palestinians in Jerusalem, escalated into full-fledged exchanges of fire across the border of the Gaza Strip between the Israeli military and Hamas, the Palestinian militant group.   In Israeli cities, violence between Jewish and Arab groups threatens to destroy the multifaith and multicultural community and neighbourliness that has been a hallmark of Israeli society at its best.

In the midst of this conflict is the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem, made up of almost thirty parishes, 30 priests and more than 7,000 church members in Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine and Syria.  Besides its parish ministries, the Diocese is active in education and health care, and operates clinics and hospitals, including the Al Ahil Arab Hospital in Gaza City.  One can only imagine what the scenes in that hospital are presently like.   The Diocese also offers a ministry of hospitality to pilgrims to the Holy Land, including St. George’s College in Jerusalem, a place of learning, rest, and prayer.  The current bishop of Jerusalem is Archbishop Suheil Dawani, the fourteenth Anglican bishop of Jerusalem and the fourth Palestinian bishop.

On this day of prayer, in the middle of what may be a new war, the Diocese of Jerusalem reminds us of the role of the church as a witness to God’s commitment to love and peace.  As a minority in the middle east, the Diocese tries to model peaceful and respectful relations and dialogue between the nations and religions.   Now, more than ever, we need to pray for God to keep them strong, to protect them, and to bless their efforts to show the love of Christ to their neighbours.  In fact, this crisis invites us to think about why we are called to pray for other dioceses and regions of our Anglican Communion.

As part of our prayers and intercessions, it’s customary for us to pray for whichever part of the Communion comes up in the weekly cycle of prayer.   Sometimes these names are hard to pronounce and they are distant – there are so many Anglican dioceses just in Kenya and Uganda, and how can we meaningfully pray for them or know anything about them?   Here I would say two things.

The first is that today is an opportunity for us to think about how we are part of a much wider church.   All Saints may be just one of many diocesan churches, part of one of many dioceses in our national church, which is in turn just one of many national churches in our Anglican Communion, and so we are just a very small branch on a very big vine, to borrow Jesus’ words from two Sundays ago.   What unites us is that all of these churches exist to serve God, to be the presence of Christ in service to their parts of the world, and we all as churches have a duty to pray for all.

  On Friday for our Compline services, we recorded the nightime hymn, “The Day Thou Gavest Lord Has Ended”, which includes those wonderful lines of how, as the sun marches across the earth, a part of the church is always awake to praise and pray:  “As over each continent and island each dawn leads on another day, the voice of prayer is never silent, nor do thy praises die away”.  We may never know those people and parishes we pray for on any given Sunday, and neither do they know us, but we pray for one another and for the fulfillment of Jesus prayer to the Father, that God guards the church as Jesus did on earth.  Because we exist in a companionship of prayer, we are reminded that our shared identity as Anglicans, as disciples, as proclaimers of Christ to the world, transcend any of our particular differences.   We are, in the words of that old hymn, “one in the spirit and one in the Lord”.

The second point I want to make is that the Diocese of Jerusalem, while it is no holier than any other part of the worldwide church, has a particular role in connecting us with Jesus and the physical and historical substance of our faith.   The Diocese, like all Christian churches in the middle east, lives and walks in the streets and fields where Jesus and his disciples and apostles lived and walked.   It reminds us that our faith is not some vague otherworldly piety or spirituality, but is rooted in the world that Jesus knew, that Jesus blessed, and in which Jesus called his disciples to continue his work in that same world.  

In today’s gospel, Jesus prays to his Father that “As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world (Jn 17.18).  So Jesus knows that his disciples belong in the world, even if they are not worldly, which is why he prays to the Father to protect them from the Evil One.  The Evil One can mean anything that seeks to undermine and corrupt the children of God – anything that has to do with lies, violence, corruption, and human power.  We are seeing the effects of systemic evil in this current violence.  I say this without wanting to portray one side or another as evil.  I have nothing to say to you about the rights and wrongs of what is currently happening in Israel and Gaza today.  I would merely say that both sides are enmeshed in a process that is evil because it is contrary to peace.  Peace can only come when men and women who are serious about dialogue, compromise, and truthfulness can sit down and reach a settlement.   

Until then, this is why the witness of the Diocese of Jerusalem is so important.  Jerusalem is the ground zero of our faith.  It’s the breaking of bread, Jerusalem is death and resurrection, it’s the coming of the Holy Spirit, it’s diverse people made the church in prayer and faith and miracle.  In its stewardship of the place where it all began, the Diocese of Jerusalem points to hope, to God’s life, to God’s promises and God’s faithfulness.  In its dialogue with its Jewish and Muslim neighbours, it is the model of what peace, God’s shalom, can look like.   We need to pray that the Diocese can continue to do and be these things, just as we need their prayers, for together we are the church, the companionship of disciples that together shows Christ to the world and to one another.