The Temptations of the Church: A Homily for Vestry Sunday:

A Homily for the First Sunday of Lent, preached on Vestry Sunday at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto.  Readings for Lent 1A: Genesus 2:15-17, 3:1-7; Psalm 32; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11. 

 THE HOLY GOSPEL OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST 

ACCORDING TO MATTHEW
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread." But he answered, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus said to him, "Again it is written, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour; and he said to him, "All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me." Jesus said to him, "Away with you, Satan! for it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Which would you rather be:  independent?  or dependent?  

A lot of us value independence, particularly teenagers, those reluctant to get married, and the current premier of Alberta.   Independance is about autonomy, self-determination, charting your own course, being master of your own fate.

Dependence, on the other hand, can often be seen in a negative light.  Being dependent on someone else can make one feel like a burden.   It might inspire feelings of resentment - why do I have to help so and so?   

The story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert is about dependence.    In the three temptations, Satan tries to get Jesus to chose independence over reliance on God the Father.  First, Jesus is encouraged to rely on his own powers turn rocks into bread and end his fast.   Next, Jesus is challenged to perform a miracle to prove his identify as the Son of God.  Finally, Satan offers Jesus all the power in the world if only he will give up his loyalty to God, which, ironically, just leads to Jesus depending on Satan rather than on God.

In resisting all three temptations, Jesus chooses to put his trust and his faith in God the Father.   He knows he belongs to God, and he trusts that God will bring him through this ordeal.  He will be tested again in worse moments, as when he is taunted to show his power and come down off the cross, but then as he does here, he trusts that God will deliver him.

God will look after Jesus, just as God looks after the church.  I think there’s a certain divine humour at play in that just before our annual vestry meeting, we hear the story of Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness.  This story announces the beginning of Lent this week, and introduces some traditional Lenten themes such as fasting and austerity, but it’s also a useful text for us to hear today because it helps us resist temptations to try and be what church shouldn’t be.

The church, most Anglican churches, really, live in our own  wilderness time.  We have our own temptations.  The first is what I call the bread temptation. Just as Jesus must have been tempted by fresh bread, so we are tempted to imagine having more resources.  Funds are scarce, our people are aging, and our buildings are getting old.  But we have what we really need, which is Jesus in our midst.   If we listen to him, as he listens to every word of his Father, we can trust that we will get what we need for as long as it pleases God to give to us.  And we trust in Jesus because we know he does provide and he does feed us.

The second temptation of the church is what I call the miracle worker temptation.   Just as Jesus is asked to perform a miracle save himself from falling, I think we wish that we as church could perform miracles, with the best of intentions.  We see so much need around us — hunger, homelessness, just raw human need.   It’s tempting to think that we could do so much more - another meal, maybe a breakfast program, maybe do something around sheltering people overnight.   Recently I heard a talk by the new principal of Wycliffe College, Dr Kristen Johnson, and she said that God wants saints, not heroes.   If at the end of the day, we as individuals and as church do what we can with what we have, that’s enough for the moment.   Jesus said love your neighbour, he didn’t put a quota on how many neighbours we had to love each day.

The third temptation of the church is what I call the boss temptation.  Satan promises Jesus all the authority on earth if Jesus will worship Satan, but Jesus already knows that all authority on heaven and on earth has been given to him by his Father.   The authority of God isn’t the Satanic authority of so many kings and dictators on earth.  We know that just by watching the news.   In the kingdom of God there are no bosses, only servants.   Scripture calls us as church to remember that we all rely on one another’s gifts and efforts, just as all the body parts work together.  This idea of interdependence is especially relevant to us as we will lean more into regional ministry in the years to come.   It’s not just big All Saints supporting our smaller churches, it’s also about how they enrich us and about our common life together.

So my friends, as we soon move into our vestry meeting, and as we think about the future of this church, let’s resist the temptation of independence and keep in mind that are wonderfully, happily, and fulfillingly dependent, dependent on God, and dependent on one another.  

High Anxiety: A Homily for the Last Sunday of Epiphany

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, on the Last Sunday of the Epiphany, 15 February, 2026.  Readings for this Sunday:  Exodus 24:12-18, Psalm 2, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Matthew 17:1-9

:But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” (Matthew 17:7)

Mountains are scary, wonderful, and mystic places.    During my military career, I had the opportunity to climb three mountains in three days as part of a strenuous kind of holiday that the Army calls Adventure Training.  This wasn't the kind of technical climbing with ropes and pitons, but it was challenging and the mountains, on the Alberta side of the Rockies, had names like The Fortress and Windy Tower.  

I was part of a small group of soldiers, and we were ably led by Major McKnight, who was a qualified Canadian Armed Forces mountain warfare instructor and intimately familiar with this part of the Rockies.    At the start on the first day he told the driver of our van to put the keys under a rock near the parking lot.  When the driver asked why, the Major said "If you fall off the mountain with the keys, I'm not getting home".  That explanation sobered us up quickly.

When you first climb a mountain, at least in the Rockies, you start climbing a forest trail, but eventually you reach the treeline, and at first you can see the tops of the trees, and then the trees just blur into a green mass.   As you get higher, the mountain starts to narrow.   You make your way up, sometimes skirting the edges of steep rock faces, and realize you need to tread carefully.   The air thins a little and you're fully exposed to the sun so you get thirsty.  As we reached the top, it felt like there were just a few feet you could go either way and still be safe.  I felt enormously vulnerable, for I was wrapped in a  sense of great height and almost a feeling of vertigo, which haunted my dreams for some weeks after.  It was reassuring as we rested there to see how calm the Major was, and while I enjoyed the view, I was grateful when he said it was time to go back down.

The author trying not to look down.

When Jesus takes his two disciples up "a high mountain", it's not just for an adventure.   The purpose of the trip seems to be revelation, a chance for the disciples (and for those who heard their testimony, which includes us) to learn who Jesus is.  The theme of learning who Jesus is what the season of Epiphany is all about.   It's therefore fitting that Epiphany is bracketed by two utterances from the divine voice.  At the start of the season, at Jesus' baptism, we hear the voice say "This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased".  At the end of Epiphany, on the mountain, we hear the voice say the same thing, but adds the key phrase, "Listen to him".    So in addition to this affirmation of Jesus' identity we get the call to discipleship.  Our job is to follow the Son of God, to learn from him, and to do what he tells us to do.

For the disciples, this message is terrifying, as moments of revelation often are in scripture.   Perhaps the disciples remember the Exodus story from our first lesson, of how Moses went up another mountain to listen to God, who was like "a devouring fire" (Ex 24.16).  In Exodus God's voice on the mountain is like trumpet blasts, shaking the mountain and covering it with smoke, so perhaps the voice that Jesus' disciples hear is equally alarming.   And of course there is the bright cloud, the presence of Moses and Elijah, and their friend and rabbi transformed into a dazzling being of white, so no wonder this all a bit too much for them.  I think in similar circumstances, I'd fall down and find a large rock to hide behind.

I think the most important detail in the story comes near the end, when Jesus touches his disciples and tells them "Get up and do not be afraid" (Mt 10.7).   In the many healing miracles of the gospels, Jesus' touch (or even touching his cloak) is important.  It's a sign of deep connection and compassion between Jesus and his friends, which means that it's a sign of deep connection and compassion between God and humanity, or between the divine and mortals, or however you want to think about it.

It's tempting to think that this relationship of compassion and connection is a new thing in scripture, that Jesus is doing a new thing.  However, even in the terrifying Exodus stories around Mount Sinai, there is also a surprisingly tender moment.  Before Moses goes up the mountain, God invites Moses and some seventy of the leading Israelites to the foot of Mount Sinai for a dinner party.  Exodus reports that "God did not lay his hand on the chief men of the Israelites; they beheld God, and they ate and drank" (Ex 24:10).  So before God gives the law and the ten commandments to Moses, God wants the people to know him.  Maybe in this little passage we see a glimpse of the Last Supper and the Eucharist, and I think it's safe to say that throughout scripture, as in this moment, we see a God who wants to be known by us.  As I've said before, our God is a God of relationship.  If we fear God, then it's not much of a relationship.

Mountain top moments can be moments of revelation and exhilaration, but they can also be moments of fear and anxiety.   In our colloquial speech, when we want to descalate and calm someone, we say that we want to "talk them down".   One of Alfred Hitchcock's scariest films is Vertigo.  A place like those glass floors at the top of the CN Tower may be fun to some but terrifying to others.   Fear of flying is a real thing for many.  Heights underscore our fragility and are a perfect metaphor for anxiety, something this this world seems excessively well stocked with.

We started our worship today with some prayers for the people of Tumbler Ridge.  That mass shootings could happen even in a small Canadian town feels like a violation, an infection of our country's social and political body by forces of violence and hatred.  It can seem like no one and no place is really safe.   Our children are experiencing a crisis of anxiety, which we try to overcome by medication and social media bans.   We adults aren't immune either.  As someone wrote recently, social media helps me stay in touch with friends and helps me learn about new disasters.   

As Christians, we need to cling to Jesus' words "do not be afraid".   The God of thunder and justice meets us as a friend, and takes us by the hand, and leads us down from our mountaintop anxiety.   Jesus comes down the mountain with us, with a message of peace and love for the world.    We are called to follow, to listen, and to tell others that there is a truth and a way of life that is one of peace rather than anxiety.   As Christians, we begin our journey of Lent this Wednesday with ashes and a sign of the cross.  It's important for us as we journey not to think that death and violence have dominion, for the Jesus' appearance on the mountaintop, dazzling white, is a foretaste of the resurrection that lies before us on Easter Sunday.  For ultimately we are Easter people, and God's message then and always is that we have nothing to fear.

Seeing the Unclean: A Meditation for our Après Ski Focus On God's Healing

Our Après Ski services this year feature meditations from members of our clergy team on God's healing as it's described in scripture and experienced in our lives.   Tonight's meditation focus on Jesus and the ten unclean men as described in Luke 17:11-19.

 ¹¹ On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. ¹² As he entered a village, ten men with a skin disease approached him. Keeping their distance, ¹³ they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” ¹⁴ When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. ¹⁵ Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. ¹⁶ He prostrated himself at Jesus’s feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. ¹⁷ Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? So where are the other nine? ¹⁸ Did none of them return to give glory to God except this foreigner?” ¹⁹ Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

You may have noticed that our translation of Luke’s gospel mentioned “ten men with a skin disease” and that may have taken you by surprise because in the versions of this story that we are familiar with, going all the way back to the King James version, the men are described as “lepers” (indeed, the Greek word used in Luke is lepros).  

Our translation today reflects recent biblical scholarship, which notes that what the ancient world called leprosy was not quite what we see in the film Ben Hur, and certainly not what medical science today calls Hansen’s Disease (more medical background here).  In ancient Judaism, what we used to call leprosy could be a wide variety of skin conditions such as psoriasis, dermatitis, scabies, lesions, or even thinning or balding hair.  

All of these conditions fell under a Hebrew word called tzaraat and all these various conditions are decribed in the Book of Leviticus.   The diagnosis would be done by a priest, and if a priest declared you as tzaraat, then you were unclean and not fit to be part of society.   Hence, when Jesus cures the ten men, he sends them to the priests so they can be declared as healed.    Thus, to be tzaraat in Jesus’ time was as much a religious conditon as it was a medical condition.

There is a further religious dimension to this story because of the ten men healed, only one returns to thank Jesus and praise God “with a loud voice”.  Jesus tells him that his “faith has made him well”, which is a little odd, because ten men were healed.  All ten were healed by Jesus, and only one has his faith recognized.  So were the other nine not healed by their faith?  It all seems a little confusing.  What is the connection between faith and healing?

If we step back a bit, we can make some sense of the story by putting it in its larger context.  The story, like most gospel stories, is about the power and authority that Jesus has been given by God the Father.    Jesus, as he says elsewhere, does not abolish the law of Torah - sending the men to the priests to be declared clean clearly shows his respect for Torah.   But Jesus also uses his authority to go beyond law to grace.

The man who returns to praise God is a Samaritan, an outsider to faithful Jews of Jesus’ day.   As we see elswehere in Luke’s gospel and in Acts, outsiders (Samaritans and gentiles) can be as worthy of God’s love and mercy as faithful Jews.  Indeed, the Good Samaritan shows more love and mercy than do the faithful Jews in the parable (Luke 10:25-37).  

So our gospel story tonight is about healing, to be sure.  The ten men are healed by Jesus.  But perhaps more importantly, it’s also about Jesus being willing to see and love and heal those who are not seen.  It’s about Jesus being merciful with the definitions of unclean and outsider.  

In her book Encampment: Resistance, Grace, and an Unhoused Community, Maggie Helwig begins by saying, in effect, that our society effectively treats the unhoused and most marginal as tzaraat, unclean.   She writes that ”there is a great gulf fixed, and very few people are willing to cross it. People who have not lived in the world of which encampments are part are afraid, and they are angry. And they cannot imagine that there is a way to cross that line, to speak to a homeless person as a fellow human being, without somehow themselves being harmed, being damaged, being touched by a world they would rather deny.”

I think we as a society can actually imagine what it would take to help the unhoused if we wanted to make real, costly investments in affordable housing, in addiction and mental health treatment, in accessible medical care, and a universal basic income.  But before we get there, we have to overcome our secret fear that the unhoused are the new tzaraat, the new lepers.   Today’s gospel story suggests to us that God’s healing can begin when we can let go of our fear of the unclean and see people for who they are, as loved children of God.

Helwig, Maggie. Encampment: Resistance, Grace, and an Unhoused Community (pp. 7-8). (Function). Kindle Edition.