A Homily and Backgrounder for the All Saints Special Vestry Meeting

Preached at All Saints Church, Collingwood,  Anglican Diocese of Toronto, on the Second Sunday of Easter, 27 December, 2025.

Readings:  Acts 5:27-32; Psalm  150; Revelation 1:4-8; John 20:19-31

And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.” Acts 5.32

A witness is someone who can speak to what they know to be true.

Since 1855, in one form or another, All Saints has been a witness to the community of Collingwod.

We’ve been a witness through our physical presence, through our worship, and through our service to the community.

It hasn’t always been easy, especially as the world became more secular starting in the mid 20th century, but like the disciples who say to the sceptical Thomas that “We have seen the Lord”, so our job has always been to say that we are witness to the Lord Jesus whom we believe to be true because of the love, forgiveness, and community that we’ve found.

Part of Christian witness has been the churchyard or cemetery, a place where the dead are remembered by us as they are remembered by God.  The Christian cemetery is also a place where our witness to the resurrection is displayed.  As we heard this morning in Revelation, Jesus is the “firstborn of the dead”, meaning that those who follow him and believe in him will also be awakened to new life.

All Saints was blessed to receive a lot of land for its cemetery from the Crown, back in the days of Queen Victoria.  Given current rates of usage, our Cemetery Board believes that the current space actually in use as a cemetery will be sufficient for 160 years to come.   The remaining thirteen acres of scrub forest is surplus to requirements and could be sold.

All Saints has imagined selling this surplus land for years, and while various ideas were proposed to the Diocese and rejected, finally we have full Diocesan approval to proceed.   The only requirement placed on us by the Diocese was that we consider how some of our share of the proceeds from this sale would go to ministry.  Putting all of our share of the proceeds into our Foundation and living off the interest is not an option.

If you look at the motion that will be voted on today, you will see that there are some ideas given as to what our ministry or witness might look like.  These ideas include a shared ministry position between All Saints and Prince of Peace, Wasaga Beach, enhancement of programs in our Regional Ministry (children’s ministry, food ministry, etc), as well as much needed work on our historic building and rectory.  After all, buildings are witness in themselves if they are well used and busy, they say “God’s Kingdom is lived out here, come and see!”  All these ideas will be carefully considered by our parish leadership in the years to come.

Here is the text of the motion below.  You will notice that the proceedings of the sale will be divided 50/50% between All Saints and the Diocese.  We had asked for a 60/40 split but Synod Council was within its rights to make this decision as per Diocesan policy.  Assuming that the property sells for what we believe it is worth, a 50/50% still gives us somewhere north of two million dollars, which is a very nice position for any parish to be in.

Resolution of the Vestry of All Saints Collingwood Regarding the Disposition/Sale of Property

Whereas the Corporation of All Saints Collingwood has proposed the Severance and Sale of thirteen acres of surplus cemetery property as legally described below;

Whereas, during the Vestry meeting held on Sunday, April 27, 2025, the proposal was duly presented, reviewed, and discussed.

Now, therefore, be it resolved that the Vestry of All Saints, Collingwood, authorizes the Corporation to:

1. Seek all necessary diocesan approvals in accordance with Canon 6, with respect to the sale of property; and further,
2. Retain the services of a licensed realtor to list, market, and sell the property, legally described as PT W1/2 LT 41 CON 7 NOTTAWASAGA AS IN CG3285 & CG10012 EXCEPT PT 1 PL 51R19115 & PT 1 PL 51R32520; COLLINGWOOD, PIN 582990068, located on the northeast portion of the existing cemetery property along Ron Emo Road at a sale price not less than five million dollars; and further,
3. Request that, in consideration of the diocesan Capital Re-Deployment Policy, the Incorporated Synod of the Diocese of Toronto grant permission for the parish to retain 50% of the sale proceeds; and further,
4. Allocate the parish's portion of the sale proceeds as follows:

1. A.Repayment of money leant by the parish to the cemetery board for construction of the new columbarium, purchase of software for cemetery management, and other improvements to the cemetery as agreed on in advance by both the Cemetery Board and the All Saints Corporation;
2. B.Regional Ministry priorities including a shared clergy position between All Saints Collingwood and Prince of Peace Wasaga Beach, as well as improvement of services and programs at our regional churches, as discussed by the Regional Advisory Group and approved in advance by the All Saints Corporation;
3. C.Repairs to the physical plant of All Saints Collingwood including replacement of antiquated heating plant and radiators, parking lot repairs, accessibility improvements, and renovations to the historic rectory including window frames and casings, as required and over a time frame to be determined in advance by the All Saints Corporation; and
4. D.Investment of remaining proceeds in the All Saints Foundation to provide for the long term sustainability of All Saints and of the Regional Ministry of South Georgian Bay.

So assuming that we approve this motion today, we will have accomplished everything that needs to be done on the church side.  It will also allow us to unlock a $75,000 line of credit from the Diocese which will allow us to do the things we need to do on the Town side.  All of the items below that do not yet have a checkmark need to be achieved before we can put up a FOR SALE sign, and each of these items costs money.  We are grateful to Mr John Kirby for all the work he has done to date in getting us to this point.

Our hope is that we can complete all the steps required of us by the Town of Collingwood and list the property for sale by this summer or early fall.

Thank you for reading and hopefully for supporting today’s vestry motion.  We shall keep the parish well advised as we move forward in this process, and may the result allow us to continue our witness here for many decades to come.

From the Land of the Dead to the Land of the Living: A Homily for Easter Sunday

 Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 20 April, 2025

Readings for Easter Sunday:  Acts 10:34-43 OR Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26 OR Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 OR Luke 24:1-12

”Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen”

We don’t know what it was like, those first steps out of the tomb. Perhaps the garden outside the tomb was just being painted with the first dawn light and just starting to come alive with birdsong.  To get out of the tomb, though, those first steps had to be taken on mangled, wounded feet mangled by the cruel iron of Roman nails.   Even so, he took those steps, and it was an easier journey than the one he had already made that night, travelling from the land of the dead, to the land of the living.

It’s been a hard journey to be sure.   I suppose it began, really, up there on the mountain after the Transfiguration, when Jesus had to drag his starry eyed friends back down and into the midst of human need.  And eventually that road took him to Jerusalem, and it looked for sure like it was leading only to the domain of death.  The journey took him to anguished prayers in the dark, to torches and swords, to thorns beatings and meetings with despots, and finally to agony and humiliation on the cross and the quiet tomb.  The journey seemed to end there, in the land of the dead.

If it seemed that the journey entered there, then perhaps we should have remembered the words of the psalmist, that we heard back near the start of Lent: “What if I had not believed that I should see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!” (Ps 27.13).  The psalmist speaks to us, for Jesus was never traveling this hard road by himself.   No, he was always bringing us along, as many of us as wanted to journey with him, the guide who brings us to the land of the living.

If we’ve been traveling with Jesus through Lent, we have heard stories from the gospels of other travellers who went ahead of us.  You may recall the story of the prodigal son that we heard later on in Lent, how he came to his senses when he realized that he had squandered his gifts and was literally dying.  His steps out of the land of the dead must have been hobbled by hunger and shame, until he saw his father at the gate, faithfully keeping vigil so he could welcome his lost son to the land of the living.

You may also remember, on the last Sunday of Lent this year, hearing the story of how Jesus stopped at his friends’ house in Bethany.  They were having a party, remembering how Jesus had stood at a tomb and cried in a loud voice, “Lazarus come out!”   And now they are feasting, Lazarus very much alive, and the house is filling with fragrance as Mary washes her teacher’s feet in costly perfume.   That sweet small banished any memories of the stench of death that had lingered in the minds.  That fragrance was a promise that Jesus will bring his friends to the land of the living.

Easter is always an invitation to accompany Jesus on this road from darkness to life.  Perhaps your life has been one of disappointment, and the things you thought you wanted didn’t bring you joy.  Maybe you’ve been struggling with some addiction or burden.    If so, then you’ve probably been looking for the living among the dead.  Follow Jesus, and he’ll help you find better things in the land of the living.

Perhaps you’re convinced that there’s a better worldview than the one they’ve tried to sell you on:  shallow consumerism, the idle vanity of influencer culture, and the harshness of political extremism.   Maybe you’re standing on the edge of faith, wanting something ancient and permanent and trustworthy.  Last night our friend Josh was baptized because he chose faith so he could become a citizen of the land of the living. 

It may be that you’re life is full of grief, that a loved one’s absence is a hole at the centre of things.   Or you’re sick or old and weary, yet perhaps fearful of what lies beyond.    You’re on the border of the land of the living, and there’s a guide waiting to bring you across to the reunions that await.

You see, Jesus isn’t content to make the journey by himself.  If there’s one more of us that needs to come with him, Jesus will find them.   Sometimes we come willingly, sometime we have to be nudged a bit, and sometimes we have to be dragged out of death into life.   There’s an old tradition in medieval art called The Harrowing of Hell.  Many scenes show angels holding devils at bay, while Jesus reaches out his hand to pull the dead out of their graves.  No one is beyond his reach.

This Easter, Jesus’ hand is extended to you.   The hand is pierced and wounded, but its still strong.  Grasp it, and let Jesus pull you over the threshold, out of the grave, and into the land of the living.

Given For All: A Sermon For Maundy Thursday

Preached Thursday, April 17, 2025, at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, Barrie, Ontario

Lections:  Exodus 12:1-14, Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, John 17:1-17, 31b-35

For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

Tonight we do something so unusual, so profound, so clear in its meaning, that I think the act of washing one another’s feet speaks clearly to our souls.   To kneel before someone, to touch and wash their feet, to accept the other’s offer of vulnerability and grace, and to hold that offer, like their feet, in the greatest trust and humility – these things speak clearly and eloquently to our Lord’s call to love one another that I think they scarce need a sermon to illuminate their meaning.  

Besides this service where we do this one extraordinary thing once a year, we also do the perfectly ordinary thing of coming forward to take the bread and wine.   Well, sort of.   The bread is really a weightless, tasteless disc that might be distantly related to wheat, and a tiny sip of wine for those who dare to drink from the chalice.  Nevertheless we recognize that this symbols stand for something greater, and see them as a glimpse of the love and forgiveness of the heavenly banquet.  So we do this every Sunday, and as we receive the bread and wine we hear the same words each Sunday, the same words that we just heard in our second lesson, “this is my body”, “this is my blood”, “do this in remembrance of me”.   

The familiarity of the eucharist that we are all used to is juxtaposed with the strangeness of something that we just do on this particular night.  Some of us are brave and allow ourselves to feel the shock of water and strange hands on our gnarled and unlovely feet, others awkwardly watch and all grateful that they don’t have to go forward.  This is all as it should be, for the Anglican saying certainly applies tonight, “All many, some should, none must”.    But I wonder tonight, as we transition from the foot washing to more familiar ground, what if we could  somehow also find communion weird, as that last supper must have seemed to Jesus’ friends as they heard him say “This is my body”, “This is my blood?”

This meal, what we call eucharist or communion, certainly was strange to the first Christians.   It was absolutely foreign to their thinking.  When Paul wrote his first letter to Corinth, he was writing to new believers who had started a church, but had almost no clue what they were doing or why.   They knew about communion or the Lord’s supper, but they observed it as if it was just a normal meal, conducted according to the usual social rules of the ancient world.   The haves ate with the haves and had quite a nice time.   The have nots stood at the fringes and watched.  

So Paul wrote angrily to them:

²⁰When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. ²¹For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk.  ²²What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you! (1 Cor 11: 20-22)

 Paul made it clear to the Corinthians that this was an event for all of them.   No one should be left out.  It was a meal for all, to be started only when the community had come together, so that all believers would be fed, regardless of their wealth and status (1 Cor 11:33).   These instructions on how to conduct this meal were not up for debate.   As Paul told this struggling church, “I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you” (1 Cor 11:23).  These instructions came from Jesus himself, and when he said “do this in memory of me”, he was speaking to all his followers.

 Paul understood that a community that waited until all were at the table was a community that cared for one another.   It was also a community that wanted its witness about Christ to have integrity and credibility.   No one was left out of this meal, slave, rich or poor, man and woman, observant Jew and gentile believers in Christ, all were welcome.  That was a huge message in the ancient world. 

 It’s a huge message in our world of inequality and injustice, where a handful of mega wealthy oligarchs control vast amounts of wealth and billions have inadequate access to shelter, food and water.   When we come forward to receive the bread and wine, rubbing shoulders with people from all walks of life and from different races and places, we come forward and are welcomed by our God who wants all to be fed.   I think we make a mistake to think that the bread and wine are just spiritual food, that communion is simply about the feeding of our souls.   Food is food.  In taking the bread and wine, we remember a savior whose place was with the poor in body and spirit, who called us to care for the least among us.

 “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you”.   Tonight, our act of communion may not be as dramatic as the ritual of footwashing but they point to the same thing.   Both actions remind us that just as God came to serve us, so are we expected to serve.  The life of this parish, particularly what we do around food, should be in the spirit of the eucharist.  If one of us brings some folded twenties to slip into the free will offering, and someone else brings an appetite sharpened by want and hunger, both should be welcome.  No one should be resented for being a free rider, because we are all free riders at the communion table.   Our social events, our programming, our mission and outreach, need to point the God who wants to feed us all out of his love and abundance.

I started by saying that the eucharist seems symbolic compared to the physical reality of footwashing.   I suppose we could do something to make communion more concrete.  We could tear off chunks of bread for one another, leaving the floor covered in crumbs, and drink the wine in big gulps so that it dribbles down our chins.    That would be fun, though it would be messy!   But better still, I think, to make our communion truly real and truly urgent by remembering the amazingly generous spirit of the words that we hear each time we take the bread and wine.    

This is the bread.  This is the wine.  This is the love.  This is the abundance.  Given for us.   Given for all of us.   Paul  wrote, “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you.”  May we, who have received so much grace and abundance from the Lord, hand them on to others.  May we wo do these things in remembrance of him, remember also those who are physically and spiritually hungry.   Amen.

Aliens or Nationalists? What First Peter says to Christians in An Idolatrous Time

A Homily Preached at Trinity Church, Barrie, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, Friday 11 April as Part of Their Lenten Series on Faith Informing Politics

Honour everyone. Love the family of believers. Fear God. Honour the emperor. 1 Peter 2.17

Let me begin by thanking you for asking me back there to come back to Trinity as a preacher for the Lenten series.  As I hope you know, Trinity holds a special place in my heart and that of my wife Joy, your former canonical administrator, and who is very sorry that she can’t be here today because of a funeral.

The topic for these services, “Faith Informing Politics”, could not be any more relevant to our time, and I can only imagine what a rich feast of thoughts you’ve enjoyed from the previous preachers in this series.   The times we find ourselves in feel unmoored and chaotic.   As Canadians, our nationalistic emotions are stirred by talk of the “Fifty First State” and phrases like “Elbows Up”.   We are buffeted by ever-changing news about tariffs, we worry about our savings evaporating, and we are perplexed by the sorry, indeed, idolatrous state of much of Christianity in the United States.

In the past few months we’ve seen US evangelicals continue to proclaim that their president has a divine mission to make America great again, while we’ve seen an Anglican Bishop, Mariann Budde, who dared to preach about mercy and compassion at the Inaugural service in Washington in January, hounded as a “Radical Left hard line Trump hater”. As the new president wrote on social media,  the Bishop “brought her church into the World of politics in a very ungracious way”.

If for the American right there is a “gracious way” for politics and church to mix, then it seems to be in the heady brew called “Christian Nationalism”.  Drew Strait, an Mennonite scholar, defines Christian Nationalism as “a form of political idolatry that distorts our knowledge of God and neighbor through a xenophobic, racialized and militarized gospel that is at odds with the life and teachings of Jesus”.   Many who hold this view see Donald Trump as a chosen agent of God, despite all evidence to the contrary, and see his democratic opponents as evil and even demonic.    Tellingly, Christian Nationalism actually has little to say about Jesus or his teachings, such as the Beatitudes, which cannot in any way be reconciled with an authoritarian political project.

Its worth noting that two days ago, the church remembered the German theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was murdered by the Nazis on April 9th, 1945.   Bonhoeffer and many of his Christian clergy colleagues saw a similar attempt by many of their contemporaries to give religious approval to the rise of fascism in Germany.    In 1934 Bonhoeffer and many other German Christians signed the Barmen Declaration, a manifesto critiquing any attempt by the Nazis to co-opt the church.     They wrote that “We repudiate the false teaching that the church can turn over the form her her message … according to some dominant ideological and political convictions”.

Perversely, Bonhoeffer has himself become a contested symbol.  Because he was associated with some Germans  involved in the plot to assassinate Hitler, some have made tried to make Bonhoeffer a hero of the right.  One of his biographers, Eric Metaxas, has argued that because Bonhoeffer resisted an unjust authority, he should therefore be a patron saint for those who resisted the Biden administration, including the January 6th rioters.  Bonhoeffer scholars have protested against such attempts to link his memory to Christian nationalism, calling it “a dangerous and grievous misuse of his theology and life.”

The Bonhoeffer controversy brings us squarely to the question of how Christians should live and conduct themselves under political authority.  The New Testament seems to be on the side of the rulers.   The criminal crucified beside Jesus in Luke’s gospel says that he and the other criminal have “been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds”, although he admits that there has been a miscarriage of justice in Jesus’ case (Lk 23.40-51).  Paul in Romans, as you heard last week, says that that “every person [should] be subject to the governing authorities” (Rom 13.1).  And today we hear from the letter known as First Peter that  “For the Lord’s sake [we should] accept the authority of every human institution, whether of the emperor as supreme, or of governors, as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right. (1 Pe 13-14).

Now we might surely wonder, how could Paul and the author of First Peter counsel obedience to pagan rulers who were at best suspicious of Christians, and at worst hostile to them?   The answer might be as simple as this, that the early church was keeping its head down, trying to be good citizens and trying not to attract attention or suspicion.   The Roman authorities had a limited understanding of Christianity, and were generally suspicious of any cult or belief that had the potential to disturb social norms and social order.   Here’s an example.

First Peter was written in the late 80s as a letter circulated among the churches in Asia Minor, modern day Turkey.   A few decades later, a Roman governor in that part of the world named Pliny, reported to the emperor Trajan that he had investigated cases of people, women and men, accused of being Christians.   He described them as being superstitious, with an “inflexible obstinacy”, but not criminals in the usual sense.  In fact, he told Trajan, when they gathered to worship Christ, “they [bound] themselves by an oath …to abstain from theft robbery, adultery, and breach of faith”.    Generally, he found them harmless people whose only crime was that their belief was undermining the official religion of Rome.

Pliny’s description of Christians as generally law-abiding closely follows the instructions given in First Peter to “do right” and “not use your freedom as a pretext for evil” (1 Pe 2.17).   First Peter consistently preaches a message of morality, urging Christians to shun the vices that it associates with pagan (gentile) society such as “licentiousness, passions, drunkenness”.  It offers the interesting idea that all have a freedom that they have found in Christ, but urges them not to use that freedom in a disruptive way, so that slaves should obey their masters and wives their husbands (suggesting that many Christians were in fact women and slaves).   

The letter is clear that Christians should not rock the social boat; they should “honour” the emperor but they should also “honour” everyone.  Here the Greek word for honour, timaō, seems to mean give appropriate and due respect.   “Honour the emperor” in First Peter may thus mean something as simple as 'respect that the emperor is the boss for now, but Jesus is the boss for all time”.  It probably wasn’t the same sense of honour that Pliny had in mind when he tried to force Christians to curse Christ and say prayers to the emperor and to the Roman Gods.

There is clearly in First Peter a sense that Christians under Roman authority are living in a temporary situation.  Believers are repeatedly described as “aliens and exiles” who owe their true obedience to Christ.   The letter does imagine the possibility that Christians may be questioned about their beliefs, perhaps questioned by someone like Pliny, in which case, the letter states, “Always be ready to make your defence to anyone who demands an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence” (3.15-16).   In other words, when you have to, be clear that you are a Christian, in the religious sense of confessing , of stating belief, knowing that you might have to suffer the consequences.  First Peter is clear that Christians may be called to a [share] in Christ’s sufferings (1 Pe 4.12-19) but through these ordeals you are “receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls” (1.9).

Its fair to say that First Peter is in some ways a subversive document.   It places Christ at the centre of the universe, and only admits a temporary authority for the emperor, whose power will not last.  The letter shares a common belief of the early church, that Christ will return soon,  and the “The end of all things is near”(4.7-11).  There is also a subtle reference to Rome itself at the end, when the letter offers greetings from “Your sister church in Babylon” (1 Pe 5.13).  The Book of Revelation, written about a decade later, paints a scathing portrait of Rome as a sinful, whorish New Babylon, suggesting that the early Christians had a sort of code.  It’s unlikely that someone like Pliny would have understood this reference had he see a copy of the letter of First Peter.

If First Peter tells us anything as we navigate these strange and perilous  political times, it is that we as Christians should lead wholesome lives while paying appropriate respects to rulers whose reign and power are temporary.   Living as a Christian in a time of empire is to always be aware that our allegiance is ultimately to another kingdom, the kingdom of God whose power is not expressed in golden images or in slavish demands for obedience, but rather exists at the edge of our perceptions, only becoming real through acts of worship, love, gentleness, and self sacrifice.  

I’m thinking here of this coming Sunday and the Passion narrative from Luke, when Jesus is confronted by Herod and Pilate, who demand to know what sort of king he is.    Pilate’s mocking inscription, “King of the Jews”, totally misunderstands Jesus.    Previously in Luke Jesus has associated the kingdom of God with the banishing of demons and the gathering of innocent children.    The kingdom of God is a place strong enough to obliterate evil but gentle enough to gather the lost and the weak like a mother hen.   It is humble rather than grandiose, and it is merciful enough to welcome the condemned man whose plea for mercy is simply this, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”.

The kingdom of God is where our moral compasses should always point towards, even in the bleakest of times..   The kingdom of God has no politics other than love and mercy.  The kingdom of God has no ethnicity and has no room for nationalism. The kingdom of God has no agenda other than a longing for Christ’s return.   The kingdom of God is where our ultimate loyalty resides.

Source For Pliny and Trajan:  Church and Society in Documents 100 - 600AD, ed Alan L Hayes, Toronto: Canadian Scholars' Press, pp 1-6.