I'll Take The Message of the Cross for Five Hundred: A Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Epiphany

 

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, and St Luke's Creemore, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 1 February, 2026, the Fourth Sunday of Epiphany (Yr A).

Texts for this Sunday: Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31; Matthew 5:1-12

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?  (1 Cor 1.20)

Some of you longtime ˆJeopardy fans may remember the Rev. David Sibley, who had a four night run on the show in 2022, and came back in 2024 to win the quarter final but lost in the semi final.  A pretty good showing for the Rector of St Paul’s, Walla Walla, Washington, whose smarts earned him around $78,000, though as he said, his bishop reminded him that his winnings should be tithed.

Sibley is in fact one of three Episcopal (Anglican) clergy who have appeared on Jeopardy, for which, I suppose, we as a denomination might take some pride.   Anglicanism has long valued the education of its clergy, many of whom have been scholars and scientists, such as Edward Stone (inventor of aspirin) and Charles Darwin, who began his career in a seminary.   Indeed, a famous quote from long ago, one of the Popes, then arch enemies of the Anglican church, admitted that the clerics of England were, because of their superior education, the wonder of the world (clericus Anglicanus, stupor mundi).

However, lest we get too self-congratulatory, it’s worth noting that Rev. Sibley was knocked out of Jeopary’s semi-finals because he got a bible and Shakespeare question wrong (what biblical city is Comedy of Errors set in?  Ephesus.  Sibley guessed Corinth).   In life, as in quiz games, our intellects only get us so far, and the same is true of theology, which is what Paul tells the Christians in Corinth in our second lesson today.

So for the last few Sundays, our second reading has been from the first chapter of Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth.   After praising this church as a collection of saints called by God and “enriched in him in speech and knowledge of every kind” (1 Cor 1.5), he then scolds them for falling into rival factions, each with its own leader and message.    For Paul there is only one message, the message of the cross of Christ.  And the message of the cross has nothing to do with things that smart people value (“eloquent wisdom”), rather it is a message that Paul calls “foolishness”.

So what is the message of the cross, and how is it foolish?  First, I think we have to understand what Paul means when he dismisses “earthly wisdom”.  Wisdom for Paul is a lot more than just Rev. Sibley’s command of Jeopary facts and figures.  It is the whole cultural and religious system of his day and what it values.   

For Greeks (and Romans), wisdom was science and philosophy, art and beauty, the purity of math and astronomy and logic.  Greek gods were powerful, handsome and gorgeous.  It made no sense to wise Greeks that a god would die in shame and agony on a Roman instrument of torture.  Likewise Jews saw their salvation in a Messiah who would come like a second King David, so ditto for them not understanding how Jesus could be Messiah when he died on a Roman cross.

So for Paul, the cross is the complete oppositie of what his world values.  It would be like Paul, if he were here  today saying that technology, AI, the stock market, finance, capitalism, ideology, fashion - it’s all meaningless. 

Likewise for Paul, the cross has to do where people are in society.  When he talks to the Corinthian Christians, he reminds them that “not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many of you were  of noble birth” (1 Cor 1.26).   The Corinthian Christians might have had a few well off people in the parish directory, but by and large they did not call the shots.  Some scholars estimate that between 70 to 80 percent of people in the ancient world lived in poverty, either at or below the level of subsistence.   Cities were crowded, political life could be violent, taxes were high, and of course many were enslaved.  Human rights as we understand them simply did not exist in the ancient world.  So if you think about the kind of elite people who gathered last week in Davos, Switzerland, Paul would say, “yeah, not you guys”.

I think that when Jesus looked down at the crowds at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, he knew exactly who they were and what their lives were like,   Matthew tells us that the crowds included “the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases  and pains, demoniacs, epiletics, and paralytics” (Mt 4.24).   No doubt most of these were poor, or who, like the woman with the hemorhrage in Mark’s gospel, had spent all they had on the limited skills of physicians (Mk 5.26).  Jesus knew who these people were, and the Beatitudes tare about them and about God’s commitment to them.

I think that when we hear the Beatitudes and hear phrases like “Blessed are the poor in spirit” or “Blessed are the meek”, we think that that these are moral commands.  We think that Jesus is telling us to be betters people,  humbler, more peaceful, and more committed to good causes.    In part this is true, but I think the Beatitudes are about the message of the cross, that God stands with those who are as hungry for their next meal as they are hungry for an end of oppression,  that God sees the downtrodden and the unimportant.  The  Beaitudes are as much about the people of Gaza and Minneapolis as they are about the people of Jesus’ day or Paul’s day, and indeed, they are really the same people.

Mixed in with Jesus’ compassion is the same commitment to justice that we see in the prophets like Micah.  When Jesus says that the reward of the righteous will be “great in heaven”, this is more than a consolation of some afterlife where things will be better.  It’s God’s commitment to be there in the struggle until oppression is overcome.  The Negro spirituals which saw freedom as a from slavery to the promised land knew where God’s heart is, as Dr King knew so well, and as the clergy and people arrested in Minneapolis know.  Tech billionaires, oligarchs and dictators may see talk of freedom and human dignity as so much foollshness, but God’s people know better.

So to conclude, the wisdom of the cross is not a celebration of ignorance.   Jesus told his disciples to be wise and innocent.  Perhaps we can say that the message of the cross, and the vision of the cross, is about seeing and valuing the people that Jesus sees.  I’ll give the last word to Rev. Sibley, who put it well after his run on Jeopary:

“One thing that I love about Jeopardy! is that it is, in many ways, a celebration of curiosity about the world around us. So if I can hope for any one thing, it’s that my little turn in the spotlight might inspire you to become more curious — about others, about our world — and in so doing, grow in love of God and neighbor for seeing the beautiful web in which we all live and move.”

The Kingdom Is Near: A Homily for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany.

Preached on Sunday, January 25th, 2026, at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto.   Readings for this Sunday: Isaiah 9:1-4; Psalm 27:1, 5-13; 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23

“From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” (Mt 4.17)

In Matthew’s gospel, before Jesus calls his disciples, and before he does any miracles, he preached, and the message that he preached was this:  “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Mt 4.17).    Because this message is the first action of Jesus’ ministry, we could say that it is foundational to his very purpose and mission, that Jesus was all about showing us the kingdom of heaven as something that could and should change our lives.

If we want to learn more about the kingdom of heaven, then we need, like the fishermen, to hear his call, follow him, and learn from him as we do next Sunday when we hear part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. 

 Indeed, the Christian life could be called a long and continuous pilgrimage towards the kingdom of heaven, though strangely it’s not a very long journey.   Paul says that the God “is near to you, on your lips and in your heart”, and in Luke’s gospel Jesus says that “the kingdom of God is among you” (Lk 17.21).   So it may very well be that the kingdom of God is something that was always there before us, we just needed the right eyes to see it or the right ears to hear it.

We can also understand the kingdom of heaven by seeing it in contrast to the world we know, the kingdoms of earth.   Just before the events of today’s gospel reading, Matthew describes Jesus’ testing by Satan in the desert.  Satan as you recall offers Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor” but their price is that in return for this power, Jesus must worship the devil, which of course he refuses to do.    The implication here is that either Satan is lying and this is a prize he can’t deliver, or worse, that earthly power and authority somehow falls within the devil’s sphere of influence.

The possibility that the latter is true, that the kingdoms of earth are within the realm of evil or at least susceptible to it, is suggested in the first detail of our gospel reading today, that John the Baptist has been arrested by Herod, and as we know, John will later be executed in prison.    Earlier in Matthew’s gospel we learned that Herod’s father ordered the massacre of the boy children in Bethlehem when he heard about the birth of Jesus, so Matthew has already taught us to be suspicious of what earthly kings will do.

Yesterday we learned a further lesson of how evil can flourish in earthly kingdoms.   Alex Pretti was shot by federal agents while restrained and lying on the ground.   He was an ICU nurse and had been filming the actions of ICE agents.  He is the second civilian killed in Minneapolis in several weeks, and is part of a larger pattern of violence.   In 2025, immigration agents shot 27 people, killing 7, and also in 2025, 32 people have died while in immigration detention.   As someone who has served in a disciplined, professional military, I can only conclude that these are the actions of violent, untrained goons in military uniforms, whose job is to spread terror and repression.

This last week as well, 100 Christian clergy and at least one rabbi were arrested and briefly detained after protesting at the airport in Minneapolis.  Several told reporters that they were there to protest against immorality.   I like to think that I would have joined them had I been closer.   I think these clergy, like the tens of thousands in the streets, are good people who sense the presence of evil but who also sense the nearness of the kingdom of heaven.

So what can we say about the kingdom of heaven as we see it in Matthew?   While we could derive a longer answer from reading the whole gospel, I think we can come up with a clear idea even from what little we hear in today’s reading.   Specifically we can say three things about the kingdom of heaven.  First, the kingdom of heaven is formed in communities, where a group of people come together because they follow Jesus.  Second, we can say that the kingdom of heaven is formed wherever acts of mercy are displayed.  Finally, we can say that the kingdom of heaven is the triumph of life over the powers of death.

First, community.  The most inspiring stories we’ve heard coming out of Minneapolis have to do with neighbours coming together to help and protect neighbours.    Families that don’t dare leave their homes and apartments have groceries delivered, and laundry picked up, washed, and returned.   Often these efforts are organized by churches and faith groups.     The call of the kingdom of heaven is heard collectively.  The disciples are called in ones and twos, but they become the twelve, and the twelve found the church.    As Paul reminds the Corinthian church in our second reading, the Christian life is lived fully when people discard their factions and petty allegiances and live in a Christ-focused community.

Second, mercy.  The kingdom of heaven is visible wherever mercy is shown.  At the end of our gospel reading, we hear that Jesus combines his preaching ministry with a healing ministry, “curing every disease and every sickness among the people” (Mt 4.23).  Jesus’ healing miracles are, as Father Gordon said last night at our Après Ski service, used to bring us back to wholeness.   Healing in scripture is not just medical, it brings lepers and madmen back into the community and it reconciles sinners and offenders to God.    Our little food pantry, which I’ve seen emptied in hours, is a sign of mercy, a small sign of care and mercy for those who suffer cold and hunger and homelessness.

Finally, life.    When Matthew tells us that Jesus goes to Galilee to bring light to “those who sat in the region and sharow of death” (Mt 4.16), he’s elaborating on the prophesy  of Isaiah that we heard in our first lesson.  The light isn’t just the knowledge of Jesus that will come to benighted Gentiles who didn’t previously know God, though it is that.  It’s also the light of Easter morning, the dawn of the resurrection that floods into the tomb.   The powers of earth may kill citizens on the street, they may blow up boats and whole cities, but history shows us that all blood soaked regimes have their day and are brought low because God’s justice is always opposed to tyranny and death.  I think the uniformed goons on the streets of Minneapolis know that they are part of the kingdom of death, and I think that knowledge must secretly torment them.

The season of Lent begins soon in February.  Once again we’ll be invited to take up Jesus’ call to repent and seek the kingdom of God.  This year repentance might mean  letting go of the fears and hatreds that make the kingdoms of this world such deadly and lifeless places.   And the good news is that we don’t have to look far to find the kingdom of heaven because it is very close.  The kingdom of heaven is wherever we see a community that practices mercy and chooses to follow Jesus, the lord of life and light.  The kingdom of heaven is within these walls.

God Above Comes As A Dove: A Homily for the Second Sunday of Epiphany

 Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 18 Januarey, 2026, the Second Sunday of Epiphany.  Texts for this day:  ISAIAH 49:1-7; PSALM 40:1-12; 1 CORINTHIANS 1:1-9; JOHN 1:29-42

And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him’ (Jn 1.32)

How many of you have a birdfeeder outside your house?   How many of you have two?  Or three?   We currently have three on the go, and keeping them stocked is an expensive job, especially if you shop at one of those fancy bird stores.   We don’t mind the expense.  Someone once said that birdfeeders are basically TV for old people, and I won’t deny that we’ve reached that point in life.   There’s something about the fragility of small birds, especially in the winter, the joy of seeing their quick movements and colours, and the satisfaction that comes from providing for them.

I think we feel a connection to wild birds that’s perhaps a closer connection to nature than we get from our house pets.  Wild birds, like the other creatures we see on hikes in the forest, are in their proper environment,  they are truly part of nature, or as people of faith would say, they are one with God’s creation.

My mind has been going in this direction with our gospel reading today because of the dove and the other nature imagery (thanks to Cody Saunders for noticing this - https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-after-epiphany/commentary-on-john-129-42-7)

John the Baptist testifies that “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him”.    The dove is a common feature of all four accounts of Jesus’ baptism, though in this gospel, we don’t see the baptism,  we just hear John the Baptist describe it.  However, all four gospels describe the Spirit of God being present all say that it was  like a dove.  The Greek word translated as like, hõsei, is an adverb that is often used for similes (something is described by a comparison to something else).   For example, when Jesus sees the crowd in the wilderness, they are described as being “like/as sheep without a shepherd” (Mt 9.36).

So why am I geeking out about a Greek adverb?   Because similes, working as they do, suggest that X is sort of like Y, but is really X.   So in the case of the dove, is it actually a dove, or is it just the Holy Spirit in a dove costume?    Again I hear you thinking, why is this important?    I think it’s important because it leads us to think about something we’ve heard about quite a bit over Christmas, the Incarnation, where as John’s gospel puts it, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

If I say to you, Jesus was just God pretending to be human, then to me at least, it makes it all sound a bit of a cheat.  If Jesus was just masquerading as human, why did he need to be born as a human, did he really die on the cross, and was he really resurrected if he was never really dead?   On the other hand, if Jesus as a person of the Trinity actually became human, then I can relate to a God who wants to know what my life and my death are like, and who can understand my human failings and sins and take them away from me.   

So, if the Holy Spirit somehow is a dove, that’s important (at least to me) because it reinforces the connection between God the creator and the created world, what we call nature.   Yesterday, at Sheila Dixon’s funeral, we sang at her request the hymn “All Things Bright and Beautiful”.  That hymn ends with the prayer that we truly see creation and so praise God for making “all things well”.   So if God has made creation and done a good job at it, does it not follow that we God should be invested in it, or even present in it?

There’s a habit in Christianity of saying that everything physical is just a way of talking about the spiritual, but think about how important the natural world is in the stories (and legends) of the Nativity.  Mary rides to Bethlehem on a donkey.   Jesus is laid in a manger, warmed by the breaths of barn animals.   Shepherds come from the hills, lit by a starlight.   Magi come on camels (or whatever their ride was).  Presumably the same donkey carries Mary and Jesus to safety in Egypt.   None of this natural imagery would happen if Jesus has been born in a palace.

Likewise in the baptism accounts, besides the Spirit/Dove, John the Baptist greets Jesus as the “Lamb of God”.   To be sure this a  figure of speech, Jesus is not actually a lamb, but John sees something of Jesus’ role as the pure and sinless sacrifice.  Lambs play a huge role in the Jewish scriptures, from the story of Abraham and Isaac (the ram caught in the thicket) to the lamb’s blood that allows the firstborn of Israel to be spared on the Passover.    Lambs, like doves, are creatures of Temple sacrifice, and their blood speaks to the long and futile quest to deal with human sinfulness through the blood of innocent animals.

Besides animal imagery, there is of course water imagery.   John baptizes with water at the River Jordan, and his ministry is predicted in Isaiah by the promise that God will make a way in the desert and springs in the wilderness (Isa 43.19).  The psalms of course are full of nature and water imagery.  In Psalm 72, for example, God’s reign of justice will be “like rain upon the mown field, like showers that water the earth”.  Abundant water in a desert country is a perfect way to show God’s care and concern for creation.

I think we’d all have to admit that God cares for creation more than we humans do.  I know it’s hard to believe in global warming in the midst of such a snowy winter, but we know that the earth is getting warmer and glaciers everywhere are receding.  Skiing is good here but in Europe the industry is in peril. The seas are getting warmer.  Yesterday the  Economist magazine reported that disease transmission will increase because more mosquito species are developing a taste for human blood.  Why?  Because as biodiversity decreases there are fewer other species for mosquitoes to feed on. So yes, we should be concerned about the fate of the Earth that God gave us.

In Romans 8, there is a famous verse where Paul describes all Creation as groaning for its salvation.  What if we thought of Jesus’ birth not just as God dwelling with us, but God dwelling with all creation?  What if the Spirit becoming a dove in all four gospels is a sign that Jesus is born to save not just us, but all the world?  And if that is truly God’s purpose, shouldn’t attention to creation be our purpose?

In the religions of Jesus time doves and lambs and other sacrificial animals paid the price for human sin.  Today we don’t sacrifice animals for religion, but we still sacrifice entire species for our greed.  Would our attitudes change if we believed that God was as present in the created, natural world as God is present in our lives?