Let us pray. Gracious and loving God, we offer to you that which is here spoken, heard and thought. Accept that which is worthy of you and through your abundant mercy and grace, forgive that which is unworthy. This we pray in the name of Jesus, your Christ and our Lord. Amen.
Our Church year began some six months ago with the anticipation and preparation that characterize the Season of Advent and culminated in our celebration of the birth of Jesus at Christmas. Then came the feast of the Epiphany and the church season of the same name, a season during which we celebrated the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus and the Feast of the Transfiguration. Then, on Ash Wednesday, we ushered in the Season of Lent. Next came Palm Sunday which led us into Holy Week which included the Stations of the Cross, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday. We then celebrated the most important day of our Church year, Easter day, that glorious Sunday of the Resurrection which was followed by the wondrous season of Easter. After the fifty days of Easter we observed (in great fashion, I must say) the feast of Pentecost, that great celebration of the Holy Spirit. And last Sunday we celebrated the mystery of the Holy Trinity.
My, oh my, that is one roller coaster of a ride. But today, the roller coaster ride comes to an end and we begin a ride down a lazy river which will take us through the rest of our church year when, on the First Sunday of Advent, we will once again hop on the roller coaster. But for now, for the next twenty-five weeks, we will enjoy floating along on the lazy river of the longest season in our liturgical year, the season known as the Season of Pentecost.
During the Season of Pentecost this year our weekly Gospel readings will come from the Gospel we attribute to Matthew. Earlier in this liturgical year we read a good bit from the earlier chapters of Matthew and today, reading from the ninth chapter, we have picked up where we left of and will move chapter by chapter through the balance of this account of the life and ministry of Jesus.
The short excerpt of Matthew that we have read today is a bit odd. It comes from a larger section of the Gospel that recounts a series of healing stories. Starting in chapter eight, following the Sermon on the Mount which is detailed in chapters five, six and seven, Matthew narrates a series of healing stories: the cleansing a man with leprosy (8:1-4), the healing a Roman army officer's servant (8:5-13), the healing of Peter's mother and others at Peter's house (8:14-17), the healing of two demoniacs (8:28-34), the healing a paralyzed man (9:1-8), the healing a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years (9:18-22) – which we heard today, the restoration to life of the daughter of a synagogue leader (9:23-26) – which we also heard today, the healing of two blind men (9:27-31) and the healing of one who was mute (9:32-34).
In the midst of all those healing stories, which show that Jesus did not just talk a good story, he put his words into concrete actions (or as our familiar idiom says, he put his money where his mouth was), the author inserts four brief sidebars, three of which, Jesus’ words about following him, the stilling of the storm and Jesus’ words about fasting, we don’t get to hear this year. The fourth sidebar, the call of Matthew the tax collector, we have heard today.
The call of Matthew is a rather simple story – Jesus was walking along, he saw Matthew sitting at the tax booth, he said to Matthew “Follow me.” and Matthew got up and followed him. It is a story that appears almost verbatim in the Gospels attributed to Mark and Luke, the other two Synoptic Gospels. The only real difference is that Mark and Luke both refer to Matthew as Levi and Luke adds the interesting little detail that not only did Matthew the tax collector get up and follow Jesus, in doing so, he left everything.
Certainly the theme of being called and following is a worthy topic for a sermon – indeed, it is a theme that is implied in our opening hymn today and is front and centre in the offertory hymn we will sing in a few minutes. But what really grabbed my attention in this short vignette is what unfolded after Matthew got up and followed Jesus.
What happened is that Jesus went to Matthew’s house for dinner. His disciples were with him and a bunch of tax collectors and sinners showed up to the party. Jesus was notorious for hanging out with such people, you know, the kind you won’t find in polite society, outliers who were downtrodden and poor, outcast such as lepers, the blind, the lame and those with demons, all those who would have been excluded not only from society but also from the synagogue for various religious reasons.
So there was Jesus, eating with a bunch of people who the religious elite deemed to be sinners. That is when the friction started.
As with so many of the stories about Jesus, there is conflict between Jesus and the religious authorities of the time. The encounter we have before us today is the first.
On seeing Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners, the Pharisees asked the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” Note that even though the Pharisees did not ask Jesus directly, Jesus heard what they said and he responded directly to them.
Here the text of Matthew differs a bit from that of Mark and Luke. While all three Synoptic Gospels report that Jesus stated the obvious by way of a medical analogy, saying that it is those who are not well who need a doctor, the commonality ends there. Both Mark and Luke have Jesus immediately complete the analogy, saying, “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” And in Mark and Luke nothing else is said.
However, in Matthew’s account of this confrontation, Jesus challenged the Pharisees, telling them to go and learn what the words the Prophet Hosea, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice” actually meant.
For the religious elite, especially the Pharisees and their scribes, ritual observance, offering the appropriate sacrifices, obeying Jewish traditions and following the letter of the Law were the hallmarks of religious practice. Their relationship with God was transactional – a quid pro quo arrangement based on short-term exchanges – they obeyed the letter of the law and offered sacrifices in exchange for the favour and good will of God. In the eyes of Jesus they were exact in performing the rituals prescribed by humanity but failed to fulfill the will of God. In effect, Jesus was faced with the same problem as had been the prophets of old; that the religious leaders encouraged “doing” religion rather than doing mercy, justice and righteousness. They sought ritual correctness – nothing other.
I’m not sure if I have told you this story or not – but it serves here to make a point. Many years ago I encountered a man who would not attend worship unless it was from the Book of Common Prayer. None of that Book of Alternative Services for him! Only the traditional service – which in his opinion was the only valid service. One Christmas Eve, when I was new to the parish, I scheduled only BAS services. This man, who, by the way, only came to church on Christmas Eve, walked in, saw in the bulletin that is was not a Book of Common Prayer service, and walked out. So, the following Christmas Eve I scheduled one of the services to be from the Book of Common Prayer. The man, right on schedule, arrived, looked at the bulletin, saw it was the traditional Book of Common Prayer service and took a pew. After the service, I greeted people as they left the service. When the man approached me, I wished him a Merry Christmas and held out my hand to shake his. He refused my gesture, looked at me with malice and said, “Can you not even get it right? The words are, ‘The body of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee’ – NOT given for you.” And he waked out.
Ritual correctness, the spotless sacrifice.
Jesus said, “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’
‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ Wonderful words of the prophet Hosea, whose ultimate message was the unwavering, unconditional love of God for all people despite our persistent humanity and our continual unfaithfulness.
This moment is not so much about the call of Matthew. Rather, this is a story in which Jesus did what Jesus did best – demonstrating and calling forth the mercy, grace, unconditional love, radical embrace and compassion of the Kingdom of God. In this moment of confrontation Jesus not only taught but demonstrated that the power of God's presence was embedded in mercy and not in religious rituals, emphasizing God's preference for genuine compassion and love over ritualistic religious practices. In this moment when the Pharisees showed contempt for Jesus and the people he embraced, calling them sinners and considering them unworthy and irrelevant, Jesus demonstrated that divine love is at its most magnificent when it goes beyond our unmerciful human tendency to judge and exclude and reaches out to accept, heal, and transform people who are messy, imperfect, broken and hurting. The Kingdom of God is not realized in perfect sacrifice, ritual correctness and the exclusion of those deemed contemptable and insignificant but in the extravagant embrace of all people – flawed and imperfect as we are. Thanks be to God.
7 June 2026 - Canon Ric’s sermon
Let’s pray. Loving God, bless your word this day wherever it is read, wherever it is heard, wherever it is preached, and most especially, wherever it is lived. We ask this in the name of Jesus, your Christ and our Lord. Amen.
Who are you? Who, who? Who, who? Who are you? Who, who? Who, who?
Who are you? Who, who? Who, who? Who are you? Who, who? Who, who?
Those are the opening lines of the late 1970’s song entitled Who Are You sung by the English rock band “The Who”. It was one of the bands biggest hits and it became one of the signature songs of their live performances. It was also the theme song for the TV show CSI: Crime Scene Investigation which aired from 2000 to 2015. More recently it is the theme song for most versions of the mystery singing competition The Masked Singer. And for you sports fans, in 2010 “The Who” sang a short version of the song during the halftime show of Super Bowl XLIV.
Who are you? Who, who? Who, who?
Over the past number of years all sorts of folks have wondered not so much who you are but who they are themselves - that is, there has been a surge in people wanting not so much to “find themselves” (that’s the self-help craze) but rather to discover their lineage, their national or ethnic heritage, their family story. There has been a flood of service, both DNA and genealogy records oriented, ready to assist us in our quest to discover and connect with ancestors in order for us to claim status, gain a sense of belonging and perhaps discover that we are actually related to someone famous – or infamous as the case may be. A quick internet search with the help of Mr. Google will present you with multiple website such as ancestry.ca, myheritage.com, dnaweekly.com, 23andme.com, ancestralrecords.org, among a bunch of others. In fact, just this past week I saw ancestry.ca advertised on T.V. a number of time.
Yes indeed, in our time many among us have a hunger to find their roots. Perhaps the last time we experienced such an interest in things genealogical was during the 1970s when Alex Haley published his 900-page book “Roots: The Saga of an American Family”, which followed the life of the mostly fictional Kunta Kinte from his 18th-century capture in Gambia, West Africa, to his life as a slave in the United States, and then traced the lives of his descendants over two centuries and seven generations, culminating with a family connection to Haley himself.
No one knew it at the time, but Haley's best-seller, and the television mini-series that aired a year later, were the beginnings of a genealogy craze that would sweep North America, a craze that continues, even on a larger scale, today. Indeed, the real-life scavenger hunt where people trace their ancestral roots using historical documents, DNA tests, and family stories is, apparently, one of the most popular hobbies around, so much so that, again apparently, at one point not too many years ago genealogical websites were the second most visited websites, second only, I am afraid to say, to pornographic websites.
Together, genealogical research and DNA testing provide powerful and meaningful points of access into what led to us and have become a billion dollar industry that has spawned scores of books, a vast industry of ‘in-home’ DNA ancestry testing and even television shows such as the current documentary television series, “Finding Your Roots”, hosted by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., in which celebrities are presented with a "book of life" that is compiled with information researched by professional genealogists that allows them to view their ancestral histories, learn about familial connections and discover secrets about their lineage.
Who are you? Who am I? Who are we?
Well, such questions are not new; they are not questions asked only in our post-modern world.
Who we are and where we came from are questions that have been asked throughout the history of humanity. And they have been asked on a grander scale than wanting simply to discover our individual ethnicity, nationality, ancestral roots or geographic origins. The questions of who we are and where we came from run deep in our human desire - so much so that all cultures, ancient and present day, have myths to explain who we are, where we came from, how the world began and how people first came into being! Certainly such inquiry is far more complex and extensive than finding out the name of my great-great-grandfather. So plentiful are these myths that there is actually a book, a 400 plus page book, filled with such stories. The book, called “Sun Songs: Creation Myths from Around the World”, is an anthology, edited by Raymond Van Over, that first came out in 1980. Alas, the copy I got the year it was first published when I was in my first year in Religious Studies at York University has vanished.
Today we have heard one of the two creation myths that are common to Judaism, Christianity and Islam - the three great Abrahamic faiths. Today we have read the first of our stories of creation as found in the first chapter of the Book of Genesis – it’s the one that details the events of creation over the course of six days. The second of our creation myths, the one that talks about Adam, the first person created by God from the dust of the ground, follows directly in the second chapter of Genesis. It must be said that creation myths, Christian or otherwise, are not to be understood as factual, historical accounts. Nor should they be considered to be false or fanciful story. Rather, creation myths metaphorically and symbolically convey profound truth, the historical and literal nature of which cannot be known, let alone adequately expressed. Myths are stories that seek to express meaning about something that cannot be observed and is beyond absolute certainty.
In truth, this side of heaven we will never fully “know” the answer to such profound questions as our ultimate human beginning - even science cannot explain such a thing with absolute certainty. I imagine that is why the Big Bang theory is still a “theory”. And besides, perhaps the Big Bang theory and all the creation myths are pointing to one and the same event that, despite all our longing to know, remains unknowable. But likely I should leave consideration of that thought for another time.
I think that the point of all this, on a broader and less specifically individual, “me” oriented level, is that our contemporary genealogical discoveries reveal an inter-relatedness that threads its way through the entire fabric of humanity. A number of folks who have done the DNA testing will tell you that they are, all be it at a distance, related to so-and-so the actor or singer or other person of fame. If you can believe it, apparently my family tree, on my mother’s side, has on one of its branches a king of England. So, just maybe there is something behind the idea of six degrees of separation - the idea that all people are six, or fewer, social connections away from each other. Again, the point being, we are connected.
So to, creation myths point to our divine oneness asserting that all humanity can trace its roots into the depth of the creative love of the divine. We are all God’s children – and for me, everything else is just commentary. No matter how much or how little we know about ourselves or each other, through faith we know that in the unbounded eternity of the divine, we are God’s.
I will end this reflection with a poem written by German Lutheran pastor, theologian and anti-Nazi dissident Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the theological greats of the 20th century. He wrote this poem while imprisoned during World War II, shortly before he was executed by the Nazi’s on April 9, 1945.
This poem is from the book, “Letters and Papers from Prison”, a book compiled after Bonhoeffer's death by his good friend, Eberhard Bethge (bait-g). The poem speaks to the fundamental question of ‘SELF’ and discloses to us the only answer that brings new life to our humanity: in the end our infinite value and the infinite value of every human being, lies in the knowledge that we are all, each and every one of us, children of God.
And so now I read Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s poem entitled “Who am I”:
Who am I?
They often tell me I stepped from my cell's confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I?
They often tell me I used to speak to my guards freely and friendly and clearly,
As though I were the one in charge.
Who am I?
They also tell me I bore the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
shaking with rage at power lust and pettiest insult,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I?
This or the other?
Am I one person to-day and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once?
A hypocrite before others and before myself
a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me like a beaten army fleeing in disorder
from victory already achieved?
Who am I?
They mock me, these lonely question of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
Let us pray. Loving God, divine creator, help us remember and embrace the greatest truth, that whoever we are, we are yours! Amen.
31 May 2026 - Canon Ric’s sermon
Gracious God, we pray that our hearts and minds may be open to the truth of your word and that we, like Jesus, may have the courage to go where you lead and do as you would have us do. Amen.
Well, here we are together as the curtain comes down on the most glorious season of Easter, during the great fifty days of which we have been celebrating the risen Christ of God as he encountered and engaged his followers and extended the kingdom through resurrected hope. This week brings us to the seventh and final Sunday of Easter and we are about to cross the threshold into the long, green season of Pentecost.
And this week, as promised last Sunday, we have heard the first part of Jesus’ great prayer that is often called The High Priestly Prayer. I must mention in passing that there is a lot of chatter about calling this prayer The High Priestly Prayer. Opinions vary. One such opinion, one that I would say is creative but most unlikely, asserts that this is called The High Priestly Prayer because it pictures Jesus praying for his apostles – the first priests. But we should note that in this prayer Jesus prays for a lot more than just his apostles. Then we can get into word games and ask if the title indicates that Jesus is the “high priest” who prays this prayer or is it that the prayer itself is a “priestly prayer” that is “high” meaning it is “grand” or “glorious” or “the greatest” prayer that Jesus just happens to pray. However, when it comes right down to it, I think the chatter about the title should be constrained to the simple fact that the author of this Gospel never uses the term “high priest’ to describe Jesus. References to Jesus as “high priest” are found particularly in the Letter to the Hebrews and from there the term has made its way into our theology.
At the end of the last supper, after Judas had gone off too betray him and after he has spoken all the words of the Farewell Discourse in which he sought to prepare the remaining eleven disciples for his departure, instructing them, warning them and equipping them, Jesus looked up to heaven and began this long, majestic, glorious, wonderful prayer and no matter what title we give to it, there is a whole lot of meat within it. Just like the Farewell Discourse, this prayer of Jesus is most certainly, a "theological treasure trove", the full richness of which cannot be dealt with in just a single sermon but would require a series of sermons or, perhaps more fittingly, a serious bible study. As one commentator noted, “Jesus’ ‘high priestly prayer’ is only about 650 words. It takes only 3 minutes and 30 seconds to read it aloud. But it will take all eternity for us to fully understand it!”
Consequently, I, like many a preacher this morning, have had to be selective.
First, let’s note that in the Gospel attributed to John, Jesus does not, as he does in the Gospels attributed to Matthew and Luke, offer the disciples instruction on how to pray, giving them the example of The Lord’s Prayer. According to the author of this the fourth Gospel, this prayer that follows or perhaps draws the Farewell Discourse to conclusion, is the Lord’s Prayer or perhaps it would be best to call it the prayer of our Lord. In any event, it is the longest prayer of Jesus recorded in the Bible. And coming where it does before his betrayal, arrest and crucifixion, we could certainly argue it is the most important prayer Jesus prayed on earth.
Structurally, the prayer divides neatly into three sections. First, Jesus prays for himself, that is what we find in verses one through five. Second, in verses six through nineteen, Jesus prays for his disciples, that is, those who were with him at that immediate moment. Then third, in verses twenty through twenty-six, Jesus prays for those who will come to know him based upon the message of his disciples.
Yes, there is certainly a great deal of thought provoking fodder in the words of Jesus' prayer and there are a number of directions we could go, but of the many important themes in this prayer, the one that became stuck in my head as I pondered and explored todays passage is that of unity or oneness which Jesus expressed in the final words we have read today. Today’s Gospel reading ends with Jesus praying to God saying, “Protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.”
“So that they may be one, as we are one.”
In those ten words we hear Jesus request that his followers would be unified, mirroring the intimate relationship that existed between himself and God. That is the theme that resonated in my mind - the theme of the unity between Jesus and God and our resultant unity through Jesus (to whom we are united) with God and ultimately with each other.
Note that Jesus did not just say, “So that they may be one” and leave it there. Jesus added the words, “As we are one”. If we cut the quote short we miss a significant point. Shortening the quotation to "So that they may be one," misquotes the verse and tragically omits the defining quality of the oneness to which we are called, that is, the unity, the oneness that exists between Jesus and God. The quality of the relationship between Jesus and God is the measure of our relationship with each other. The ultimate object of Jesus’ request here is the unity of the disciples – a theme to which he will return in the concluding words of this great prayer. I encourage you to take three and a half minutes this afternoon and read this prayer, found in chapter 17 of the Gospel attributed to John, in its entirety with the theme of unity or oneness in mind.
Dear friends, we all know that we live in a fallen world. Our world is filled with division and separation. Even in the church, even among those of us who seek to follow Jesus, relationships break down. Perhaps you’ve heard the cynical statement that the church would be a great place if it weren’t for the people. Time and time again we get in the way. Time and time again our ego, our pride, our vanity, our stubbornness, our hubris (and the list goes on … ) all get in the way. And looking at Christian history it is difficult, maybe even impossible, to speak of Christian unity. Right from the very beginning – just read the Epistles of Paul to see how the early Christian world quickly divided along opinions and egos. Then consider the two minor schisms in the fifth century, the Great Schism of 1054, the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century and all the fragmenting that has happened since and is still happening today. The human legacy is that in today’s world there are a large variety of groups that share a common history within and without mainstream Christianity but that have significant differences in tradition, theology, church government, doctrine, beliefs, practices and language.
I say toma(eɪ)to and you say toma(ah)to, I wear paja(æ)mas and you wear paja(aw)mas. "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off"
Well, no, let’s not call the whole thing off because the unity of which Jesus speaks, the unity for which he prays, is not just about us agreeing on every little thing. The unity Jesus seeks for us is a spiritual unity grounded in the truth of the Kingdom of God. That is the unity Jesus came to reveal, model and complete. It is a unity that finds its root and source in the sure sense that first and last, we all belong to God; we are all God’s children. The common thread is not that we agree about every little detail but that we all come from the same place, we are all called to live in and live out the values of the Kingdom of God and we are all blessed with the same destination. The unity Jesus prayed for is the unity that comes from being sanctified by divine truth, a unity that recognizes that we are all children of God, loved by God and called into the Kingdom of God by Jesus. It is a unity that is especially resilient because it finds its root and its source in our oneness in Jesus and his oneness with God.
This unity, this oneness that Jesus prays for is not all of us coming together in a big group hug and white-washing our differences just so we can say we have complied with Jesus’ prayerful request. Rather, despite our differences, our oneness is to be found in our recognition and subsequent living out of the truth that we are all beloved children of our creator God – just as Jesus did. For after all, we are one in Jesus.
17 May 2026 - 7th Sunday of Easter Sermon
Gracious and loving God, as we hear your truth may we live your truth. We pray in the name of Jesus, your anointed one and our Lord. Amen.
The passage from the Gospel attributed to John that we have just heard carries on directly from last week's Gospel reading and, as was last week’s Gospel passage, today’s passage is part of Jesus' final speech to his followers before his arrest, trial, torture, and execution. That final speech that Jesus gave to eleven of his disciples immediately after the conclusion of the Last Supper in Jerusalem, is known as the Farewell Discourse and is found only in the Gospel we attribute to John. The Farewell Discourse is quite long, taking up about 15% of the Gospel, and it contains Jesus's final teachings and prayers for his disciples. In it Jesus offers comfort, promises the Holy Spirit and commands love and unity. It is, most certainly, a "theological treasure trove", the full richness of which cannot be captured in just a single sermon but would require a series of sermons or, perhaps more fittingly, a serious bible study.
The Farewell Discourse begins with Jesus telling the disciples the cold hard truth that he soon will no longer be with them. However, though he will no longer be with them himself, he comforted them with the news that he will send the Holy Spirit, whom he refers to as another advocate, the Spirit of truth, to guide them, as he had guided them while he was physically present with them. He offered them the analogy of the True Vine. He offered them peace. And he offered a prayer for his followers, a prayer which has come to be known as The High Priestly Prayer. (We will read the first part of that prayer next Sunday, so do plan to come to hear it.) In the midst of all that, and perhaps permeating all that, we hear Jesus refer to his command to love, which is arguably a key theme throughout the discourse.
Certainly, a significant part of today’s snippet from the Farewell Discourse has to do with Jesus’ promise that he will send the Holy Spirit. To my mind, the important thing to note about the gift of the Holy Spirit is that Jesus makes clear that not only will the Holy Spirit live with us, the Holy Spirit lives in us.
Often, in exploring this passage, preachers and theological writers focus their attention on the gift of the Holy Spirit. Yet, that is not the only significant thing about our Gospel reading today. Of equal significance is Jesus’ mention of love and keeping his commandments. Indeed, today’s passage begins with Jesus saying, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”
As was the gift of the Holy Spirit, the commandments of Jesus were part of what he was leaving behind for the disciples. Soon, Jesus would no longer be physically with them and he was preparing them for life without his presence so that they could continue his legacy and ministry, live life as he had modeled and do as he commanded.
That, of course, begs the question, “What did Jesus command us to do?”
Well, in the previous chapter of this very gospel, Jesus gave his disciples a new commandment, the commandment to love one another as he loved them. (John 13:34) He even went on to say that our love for others would be how people would know that we are his followers. (John 13:35)
In promising the Holy Spirit, I think what Jesus was telling the disciples is that they would not be going into the world alone. And having the Holy Spirit with them and in them, they had a responsibility to the world – to bear witness to the truth. Well and good – but it would be the nature of their lives, the way in which they lived out the commandment to love that would most truly reveal the divine presence to the world.
In other words, we, as were they, are to love others as Jesus loves us, seeing all people as God sees us all. With the Holy Spirit moving among us and in us we are to continue Jesus’ work of love. To paraphrase the words of one ancient writer, “the proper temple for the indwelling Spirit of Jesus is a heart filled with love.”
Perhaps a story might help bring home the point.
The story is called The Rabbi’s Gift. It was written in 1979 by a hermit monk by the name of Father Francis Dorff. Not quite ten years after Father Dorff penned these words, American psychiatrist and best-selling author M. Scott Peck brought this story to the mainstream by reproducing a version of it in the prologue to his first book about community building entitled The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace (Simon & Schuster, 1987). Here is my version of Scott Peck’s version.
Once upon a time there was a monastery that had fallen upon hard times. It had once been a great order, but as a result of waves of anti-monastic persecution and the rise of secularism, all its branch houses were lost and it had become decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order.
Deep in the woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. As the abbot agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to him at one such time to visit the hermitage and ask the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery. The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.”
So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things.
The time came when the abbot had to leave. The abbot and the rabbi embraced each other. “It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years,” the abbot said, “but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?” “No, I am sorry,” the rabbi responded. “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Christ is one of you.”
When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, “Well, what did the rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the abbot answered. “We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving - it was something cryptic - was that the Christ is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”
In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi’s words. The Christ is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that’s the case, which one?
Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people’s sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Phillip is the Christ. Of course the rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose he did mean me. O God, not me!
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect and love on the off chance that one among them might be the Christ. And on the off, off chance that each monk himself might be the Christ, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect and love.
Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary love that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.
Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm. The End.
As we allow ourselves to recognize the truth that the Christ, through the gift of the Holy Spirit, is in us, all of us, we are able, with deeper sensitivity, to love as Jesus loved and more fully see the Christ in others. When the Holy Spirit comes to us, when we stir up the Holy Spirit that is in us, we become even more sensitive to the heart of the Christ that abides in each other and the nature of the love of God and the love to which Jesus calls us. And the more we live into our calling to love, the more we see the truth that the Christ is in the other; in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned, the outcast, the vulnerable, the lonely – indeed, in each and every one of God’s children.
The Rabbi’s gift was to stir up the Holy Spirit, the abiding Christ, the heart of God, in the few remaining brothers at the monastery. That led the brothers to see with new eyes and with new Spirit filled hearts to love more deeply.
What might the world be like if we were to treat each person as if they might be Jesus in disguise? What if we look for the Christ in everyone we meet? And perhaps, in seeking the Christ in others, we might just discover more of the Christ within ourselves.
Dear friends, the Christ is not just one of us – the Christ is all of us!
10 May 2026 - Sixth Sunday of Easter
26 April 2026 - Canon Ric’s sermon, 4th Sunday of Easter
Let’s pray. Loving God, bless your word this day wherever it is read, wherever it is heard, wherever it is preached, and most especially, wherever it is lived. This we pray in the name of the risen Christ. Amen.
Well, here we are – it is the 4th. Sunday of Easter. In and of itself, that is not an earth-shattering thing to say but it is also what many call “Good Shepherd Sunday”. It might easily go unnoticed but each year the 4th. Sunday of Easter is always “Good Shepherd Sunday”. Each year, on the 4th. Sunday of Easter, we read a portion of the tenth chapter of the Gospel attributed to John each of which has something to say about Jesus as shepherd. So, to hear the rest of what there is about Jesus as the Good Shepherd in chapter ten of the Gospel attributed to John do plan to come to church on the 4th Sunday of Easter for the next two years – that’s April 18th., 2027 and May 7th., 2028. Or better yet, you could just read verses 1-30 of John chapter 10 later today.
Anyhow, to the point, there really isn’t anything wrong with hearing about Jesus the Good Shepherd year after year on the 4th. Sunday of Easter, it’s just that a lot of preachers find themselves asking what more is there to say about Jesus, the Good Shepherd. To be sure, it’s not that we don’t like Jesus as the Good Shepherd. After all, probably half of Christian art would disappear were it not for this popular image of Jesus. But, how many times can a preacher talk about shepherding practices in the ancient Near East? Truth be told, I don’t know a thing about shepherding or about sheep for that matter, whether two thousand years ago or today. And I don’t know about you but I really don’t want to hear yet again that we are all just a bunch of sheep.
And besides all that, even the author of this Gospel tells us that the shepherd of sheep image was just a figure of speech that Jesus used to try to explain things to his disciples and some Pharisees following the healing of a man born blind, but it was a figure of speech they did not understand. And truth be told, I’m not sure we really understand the figure of speech either. It is, after all, when you get right down to it, a rather specific image – almost like one of those inside stories you hear at weddings – you know the ones – the ones that only a select few understand. Well, maybe that is why the disciples and Pharisees didn’t understand what Jesus was saying. What would fishermen and religious leaders know about sheep or being a shepherd? It seems that they didn’t get that by using this figure of speech Jesus was trying to tell them who he was and what he was all about.
Anyway, leading up to this Good Shepherd Sunday you may just have heard a collective sigh of despair from preachers near and far.
But not from me – you see, every time I hear about Good Shepherd Jesus my mind goes in another direction and I recall a moment many years ago.
There was a wonderful, faithful priest and servant of our Lord Jesus, the Reverend Canon Tom Gracie. He touched many lives. Some of you may have known Tom. May he rest in peace.
Well, Tom had an interesting sense of humor.
I recall the Saturday morning when Tom was the guest speaker at a breakfast in a parish where I was the Incumbent. He took the liberty of a little digression before giving his talk, which I believe was about how Christians are like different species of fish.
His digression was this. He asked the gathered folks if they agreed that Jesus was the shepherd of the sheep. “Yes,” they quickly replied, “of course.” He then asked if they agreed that their parish priest, that was me, was a representative of Jesus, the great shepherd. Again, they agreed, it’s just that they thought about that for a moment or two (perhaps a moment too long!). Then he went one step further and asked them if their parish priest, still me, was their shepherd, the shepherd of their congregation. Once again they agreed. “Well then,” he said, “Because Ric is your parish priest and therefore is your shepherd, he has the right to fleece you twice a year!”
But now it is I who has digressed.
So, let’s shift our gaze to the other image Jesus used in this passage – that is the image of Jesus as the door, which, in the version of this passage that we have read today, is translated as “gate” - likely because someone thought the term “gate” better fit the pastoral scene. Twice in this passage Jesus says that he is the gate for the sheep (John 10:7 & 10:9) and the second time he explicitly states that whoever enters, presumably the sheepfold, by him as the gate, will be saved.
I hasten to mention here that this is one of those bible verses that can easily be taken out of context and used to assert the exclusionary claim that Jesus is the sole source and means of salvation. All the words of the Good Shepherd discourse in John chapter ten need to be read as a continuation of and in relation to the story of the healing of the man born blind – a story that comes immediately before these verses in John chapter 9, verses 1-41. That is the story we read not too long ago on the fourth Sunday in Lent. I think that the immediate context of this “I am the gate” verse works against such an absolute assumption which is, in fact, also counterintuitive to the theological premise of the Fourth Gospel, that God loves the world. But that is another sermon all together.
That being said, this bit in the Gospel attributed to John does affirm that those who enter the sheepfold by Jesus, who is the gate, will be saved. That, of course, begs the question, what is salvation?
Oh my goodness, that question might easily lead us into deep theological waters – especially if we open up the discussion to all scripture and to the two thousand years of interpreting scripture, which, I fear, all too often involves not exegesis, which seeks to draw meaning out of the text in an objective way, but rather eisegesis, which is a subjective activity in which the interpreter imposes their own ideas, biases, assumptions and preconceived notions onto the text even though they are not actually present in the text.
So, when it comes to talking about salvation - and to avoid any potentially overwhelming theological kettle of fish, - let’s just stick with the Gospel attributed to John, from which today’s passage is taken.
In the Gospel attributed to John, salvation is primarily defined as receiving abundant life, as Jesus himself affirms in the last few words of today’s passage, where he says, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly”. If we think about it, nowhere else does Jesus express the intent of his mission and ministry more clearly than in this last verse of today’s Gospel reading.
“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
Like others, I wonder whether we’ve narrowed how we understand and talk about the salvation Jesus brings. Salvation is often understood as the removal of our sin and failure. Don’t get me wrong, the forgiveness of sin is, of course, wonderful, if received appropriately. But if that’s all we understand salvation to be I think we miss that, more significantly, the salvation Jesus offers brings the creation of new life and possibility for us - not just plain old day to day life, but abundant life. If we heed the words of Jesus found in this Gospel it becomes clear that we are not only saved from something but also for something, for full, rich and meaningful life, that is, life in abundance.
In the Gospel we ascribe to John, salvation is a present possession of life in communion with God achieved simply through faith. It does not require human merit but rather is a gift of God. (John 4:10) It is a result of God's love for the world. (John 3:16) In contrast to all that would rob us of life - the thieves and bandits Jesus mentions - Jesus comes to give abundant – life that is filled with meaning, purpose, joy, peace and strength of spirit. It is life filled with the love of God, with all God’s fullness today, in the here and now. It is a quality of daily living that is made all the sweeter because it is also a taste or a manifestation of eternal life being lived out on earth, here and now.
And while abundant life looks different in different places and to different people, it always manifests itself as a response and counterpoint to whatever seeks to rob all God’s children of the fullness, purpose and joy of life in this moment and in this place.
I do not believe that salvation and abundant life are goals for which we strive. They are rather a consequence of following Jesus, the one who fed the hungry, comforted the distraught, embraced the shunned, welcomed the outcast and everywhere and always witnessed to the universal and unending love of God.
And lastly, I hear in this passage a profound invitation for us not simply to hear Jesus’ offer of salvation and abundant life but actually to live into them, joining ourselves to his mission to bring abundant life to all of God’s children. It reminds me that God has claimed us as God’s own and calls us to be Kingdom people in the light of God’s glorious day, that God is indeed with us, now and always and that the mission of Jesus was not just to get us into the Kingdom of God but to get the fullness of the Kingdom into us that we might offer it to others. Thanks be to God.