Homily for the Annunciation March 25, 2017, The Rev. Frances Drolet-Smith, Oblate SSJD

Isaiah 7: 10–14 Hebrews 10: 4–10 Luke 1.26–38

There’s a little girl in my congregation named Alyssa. She’s about 10 now, I guess. I baptised her when she was 5. She’s an amazing kid. On the day of her baptism she was beaming, I kid you not. When the liturgy began, she stood in her pew with her family and I asked her “Do you desire to be baptised?, she replied in a big, clear outside voice, “I do!”. She has a remarkably keen sense of God’s presence in her life and she is very open about the frank conversations she has with God in her prayers. She often up-stages me during the children’s talk (and sometimes during the sermon) with her astute answers and profound insights. This past Christmas Eve, as the children were sharing symbols of the Incarnation with the congregation, Alyssa went ‘off script’ and declared in that big, clear, outside voice of hers, “Mary was Jesus’ first home”. Just think about that for a minute – “Mary was Jesus’ first home” – it’s an astonishingly accurate observation.

Today we hear the story of the Annunciation; of the angel’s invitation to Mary to become Jesus’ first home. “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus – do not be afraid – you have found favour with God.”

In the Hebrew scripture appointed for today, Isaiah actually foretells this story: Look, a young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. Immanuel – God with us, or perhaps more accurately, God at home with us. God came to nest with Mary – and Joseph, first in a stable, then in exile, then in the apartment behind the carpenter’s shop. But what about now?  Where does God live now? 

Some years ago, I spent a summer working as a chaplain in a psychiatric hospital in Montreal. It was a hard job – one I wasn’t sure I could do. The patients I was assigned to work with suffered from distressing illnesses that caused them to hallucinate or hear voices. They were often fearful, suspicious, frightened. They were all ages – some elderly, some middle aged. One patient was 22, my age at the time. Her name was Debby. Most of the time, she sat in the day-room, her arms wrapped around her, hugging herself and rocking. She seldom spoke, just made a low moaning sound. One morning, we learned she was being transferred to a “secure” or locked unit for specialized treatment, and as the orderly wheeled her away, she asked me anxiously, “Fran, does God love me?” She was crying and soon, so was I, and to comfort her, I said, though to be honest, I’m not sure I believed it at the time, “Yes, Debby, God does love you!” About two weeks later, Debby returned to our unit. I almost didn’t recognize her. She was walking upright. Her blonde hair was combed and gently braided on her shoulder. She was smiling – actually, she was beaming. She came over to me in the day room with her arms outstretched. She said, “You were right, Fran! God does love me!” and she hugged me. I thought, “Finally! I’ve gotten through to someone!” I asked her how she knew God loves her. She said, “He told me – he delivers the mail on the locked ward.”

At first I was disappointed – I hadn’t gotten “through” at all; I thought perhaps I had been too optimistic, too naive. I guessed that this woman wasn’t really cured at all – she was obviously still hallucinating, perhaps even hearing voices, if she thought God was the postie on the locked ward. And then it hit me. If God can come as a child born in a stable, then who says he can’t be a postie on a locked ward? Something in that postie’s manner – did he speak a kind word? Did he smile at her? Did he treat her like a person, and not merely a patient? If we believe, as we say we do, that Christ takes “our nature upon him”, that God has made us in his image, then aren’t we, like Mary, meant to “bear” God – to bring Christ to others, not by what we “give” them, but by who we are? Jesus told his disciples that if they loved him, truly loved him, then he would dwell within them. And people will know you belong to me, that you are my disciples, if you show love. Wherever you are, he said, I am in your midst. So, then, where does God “live” now?

The Rev. Frances Drolet-Smith, Oblate SSJD with retreatant. 

Well, I think God lives in a high-rise on the waterfront, in a rooming house on Pleasant Street near my church and on the sidewalk where a homeless woman sleeps on a heating grate to stay warm.  God dwells in the refugee camp and in the slums, in the mud hut and in the 4-bedroom house in the suburbs.  God inhabits the hospital room and nursing home, resides where there is peace and where there is no peace, sits at the table teaming with food and at the one where there’ll be an empty place this Christmas. And I hope he still has a job delivering the mail on the locked ward.

Yes, indeed, Alyssa, “Mary was Jesus’ first home”. And God continually comes to nest in each one of us, inviting us to be a place of welcome in the world. Thanks be to God.

The Rev. Frances Drolet-Smith, Oblate SSJD

HOMILY - Lent 2A, March 12, 2017 Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD

Genesis 12:1-4a Psalm 121

Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 John 3:1-17

Nicodemus has been hooked by Jesus. He’s been watching him, listening to him, wondering about him. Nic has also heard all kinds of criticism about him from his colleagues – the Pharisees. (I hope you don’t mind me calling him Nic – he has come to seem quite real to me, and Nic just seems too formal for someone I have gotten to know quite well from a spiritual point of view.)

Like the rest of the Pharisees (who were the spiritual leaders of the Jews in Jesus’ time) Nic keeps the Jewish law impeccably – not only the spirit of the law as given by Moses, not only the prescriptions in the book of Leviticus that go way beyond the Ten Commandments in detail and difficulty, but also all the intricate details of the laws that the scribes wrote as commentaries on the laws in Leviticus. Nic was a shining role model among the Pharisees.

And yet something about Jesus caught his attention and wouldn’t let it go. Jesus, who always seemed to be stretching the limits of the law, like healing people on the Sabbath when no work was to be done; Jesus, who liked sharing meals with the ritually impure; Jesus who liked offending the social mores of the day by sleeping on the road with his disciples having no fixed residence; Jesus who told stories that seemed to make outsiders seem more moral than the Pharisees, as in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

We can guess what might have intrigued Nic about Jesus. Maybe he had become a little discouraged or even bored with his job studying the commentaries on commentaries on commentaries about the law. Maybe he was longing for something more fulfilling in his life, something that would light a fire in his heart, not just be fodder for his brain. Maybe he deeply needed real spiritual friendship, the kind that Jesus offered to his disciples. In other words, maybe Nic is having a vocational crisis. Is he meant to be a Pharisee – or a follower of Jesus?

But it’s dangerous to admit this up front, or even to ask too many questions in public – and so he comes to Jesus at night when he is less likely to be noticed by his Pharisee colleagues. And you can hardly blame him. He’s exploring, questioning, maybe even hoping that this Jesus has something better to offer, that he might even be the Messiah. But he doesn’t know yet and so unlike the other disciples he’s more cautious -- he doesn’t want to burn his bridges until he knows more about this handsome, charismatic young prophet Jesus.

He says to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”

With the title “Rabbi” or “teacher” Nic is acknowledging that Jesus has a certain personal and spiritual authority even though he does not have an official place in the establishment. But clearly he knows there is more to Jesus than being a talented Rabbi. He is trying to understand. Like Abram in our first reading from Genesis, he is responding to a call from God to leave the place where he lives – not literally, but in terms of his position and authority – and to go somewhere new, somewhere unknown. It is a spiritual journey Nic sets out on when he comes to see Jesus at night.

And what does Jesus say? “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nic takes this very literally, and asks Jesus how a person can possibly enter into the mother’s womb a second time and be born again.

Jesus responds by trying to explain that he is talking about a spiritual birth – a birth that comes from the Spirit. And he seems amazed that Nic doesn’t understand this. Jesus tries to help him by saying “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

But this just seems more puzzling to Nic. “How can these things be?” he asks. Remember he is a Pharisee, a literalist, and he probably hasn’t had much practice in understanding metaphors. So he just doesn’t get it. “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” Jesus asks. Well, we might feel the same way as Nic if we went to Jesus and he responded that way.

Nic, like ourselves sometimes, has to get the truth from his head to his heart, to know experientially that the Spirit of God cannot be controlled by us. We have no control over the wind, and even the most talented meteorologists can’t always predict where it’s going to go next. Likewise we have no idea how the Spirit might play in our lives, how God might use us, or what will happen if we respond to God’s call.

Abram couldn’t have predicted how the Spirit would blow through his life, nor could any of our ancestors in the faith, ancient or modern. People like Martin Luther King, like Gandhi, like Mother Teresa – all of them simply responded to God’s call to go on a journey. They blessed more people than the stars in heaven. But they couldn’t have known that ahead of time.

Nor can we. Nor could Jesus. The one thing we do know is that somehow, mysteriously, we have a part in the way God works out the divine purpose. The journey God calls each of us to is a road that leads to the working out of God’s plan, the Kingdom of God.

And that is summed up by gospel writer John. After we have listened to this conversation between Nic and Jesus, we are thrown back on the simple, glorious truth that “God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Martin Luther called this short verse “the gospel in miniature.” And indeed, it sums up everything we know about God’s self-giving love, about Jesus’ faithfulness and obedience even to death, about the grace of forgiveness and new life that we receive from this gift of God’s love.

Abraham left his home to go out into a new, unknown world, and died of old age. Jesus followed God’s call for him even though it meant death at a young age. Nic became a follower of Jesus (at least we assume that because he brought Jesus’ expensive myrrh and aloes to anoint Jesus’ body after the crucifixion).

May we have the faith of Abraham, the courage of Nic, and the love of Jesus that allows us to say “yes” to whatever call God puts in our hearts. And may we never forget that God watches over our going out and our coming in, and will make us a blessing to all those whose lives we touch.

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Homily for Lent 1 - Year A The Rev. Claudine Carlson

For the sake of clarity. it’s helpful to know that you’ll be hearing a different kind of sermon today. It will be delivered as a first person narrative, and the words you hear come from an unexpected, even shocking source. Though I caution you to be skeptical of the speaker’s spin on what happened, I nonetheless believe that  his thoughts offer important insights into the nature of Jesus’ temptations, as well as our own.

Before hearing from our guest preacher, however, I invite you to close your eyes and recall a wilderness time in your own life. A time when you had some important decision to make and were confused about which path to take. A time when you felt very alone as you searched for answers…

I’m reluctant to begin my time with you on a negative note, but I consider myself an honest person and need to let you know, right up front, that I object to that lesson you just read. In fact, I find it downright offensive. To begin with, this inaccurate, one-sided account of what happened puts me in a very bad and most unfair light.  And next - and this really, really ticks me off -the story doesn’t even get my name right! I’m referred to as “the devil”! The DEVIL!! That’s NOT my name. My name is “Lucifer” and it means “angel of light”. It’s the name given to me by the Lord God, Almighty, for heaven’s sake… and it’s the name my friends call me. So at least that’s straight now, right? Okay. We can move along now.

Let me make it clear that I like Jesus just fine. He’s a bright young man with good intentions, but incredibly and dangerously naive. Green as spring grass. He doesn’t have a clue about how things really work on planet earth. Amazing to me how a person with a good brain like his can be so utterly stupid about things that matter… like how to get by in this life. But he doesn’t. And that’s where I can help him - that’s why I tried to help him. After all, I am the “Prince of this world”, and if I don't know how things work and how to get things done here - on earth - then let me assure you, nobody does. NOBODY!

Jesus had recently been baptized by John when I first met him. Quite the hell raiser, that John was. Way too serious for my taste, but I had to respect his fire. Anyway, Jesus saw this as the beginning of his ministry and, wisely enough, wanted to take some time to think about the “what-happens-next?” sorts of questions. Do some strategizing - to work on a game plan, you know?

But does he hire a consultant? Do any serious career planning? Even sit in on a few focus groups? No! He heads off into the wilderness and wanders around listening to the voices in his head, which no doubt got crazier and crazier the hungrier he got. Yep! That’s right. When I found him he was was ambling about the Judean wilderness with only snakes and scorpions for companions. Starving himself to death!

Well, I’m sure you’ll understand why I had to make an intervention. You should have seen him - he was emaciated! Nothing but skin and bones. Looked like he was within hours of death - that lean, strong carpenter’s body of his was just wasted away. How he thought this starvation exercise was in any way “holy” is beyond me. I mean, he says he’s here to help people, but think about it - how can you help people when you’re on the verge of starvation?

And so I appealed to him. Reminded him of his status. “C’mon, Jesus. If you’re the Son of God you can turn these stones into bread. You need to eat something, for God’s sake!” But does he listen? NO! “People don’t live by bread alone”, he says… as if I don’t know that. Of course you need more than food, but we do need food if we’re ever going to enjoy the other things we need.

But I thought maybe he wasn’t as hungry as he looked, so I moved on and encouraged him to begin his ministry with some pizzaz - to get it launched on a strong note. Do something that would give him credibility from the get-go. So I took him to the top of the temple, where all the important religious people gather. To strengthen my suggestion, I quoted scripture to him: “Hurl yourself off, Jesus. God’s angels will protect you, you know. And think of how impressed people will be! You’d have the high priest’s attention from the start! In a split second you’d have the endorsement of religiously significant folks - the ones who can help you in your career.” But his answer was a flat-out “No!”. Not supposed to tempt God and all.

Finally I appealed to his mission. Presumably he came to this world for the sake of this world, so I gave him a vision of all the kingdoms on earth - the world he came to help, to “save”. He could’ve had it all in his pocket if only he’d agree to worship me. Now please understand that I wasn’t demanding complete and total allegiance - I know better than almost anyone that you humans have divided, complex hearts and motivations. I just wanted him to acknowledge that, in the earthly realm, I’m the boss - the “go-to” guy. Recall that I am the “prince of this world”. And since he was operating on my territory, it seemed like a reasonable request.

But he throws scripture at me again. “Worship and serve the Lord your God only”

he says  He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that you can be an upstanding, religious person and still show devotion to me…. and to the ways of the world in which we live!  He’s a purist, an idealogue. “Love the Lord your God only”! Good grief, I know plenty - plenty - of religious men and women who care more about their bank accounts than they do about God. And they’re fine people - people you’d be proud to call your friends. More than likely, people who already are your friends. But Jesus….

This man is so frustrating! I just couldn’t reason with him. Couldn’t get him to understand - or even listen to - the most effective, time-tested ways of winning people’s hearts and minds… which, of course, is what you have to do if you’re going to make a difference in the world. He wants to help people - fine. But you know and I know that you have to look out for yourself first. He’s not doing that, and so he’s made mistakes - big mistakes. And he keeps making them.

For starters, he hangs around with the wrong people. Seems to just love the down and outs and losers - whores, tax collectors, lepers. He’d rather spend time with them than with the folks who could really advance his career. He also seems to delight in offending the truly religious people who could assist him. He treats the nobodies like they’re somebodies and the real somebodies like they’re nothing special at all. It’s as though he lumps the good people in with the great unwashed sinners of the world. Well, I’ve known a sinner or two in my day, and I can tell you there are much bigger (and better!) sinners than Jesus’ nemesis,

Caiaphas, the high priest. In my opinion, he’d do well to make friends with him…. and to do so in a hurry.

But he’ll likely continue on his stubborn, “principled” path, and quite frankly, I’m worried about him. Really worried. Things are heating up quickly and powerful forces are rising up against him. Oh sure, he has a little band of dough-headed devotees who talk about this healing or that feeding, but those folks matter not a bit - they have no significance whatsoever. If Jesus is hauled off before the courts of the High Priest or Rome, those friends of his won’t even be heard - they simply do not matter. No one would listen to them. And they’re such a crew of weaklings, they’d probably go mute at the first sign of trouble anyway.

So, yes, I’m concerned. But I still have hopes he’ll listen to me…. that it’s not too late. As I said, he’s a bright young man, a quick study. He could turn things around even now if he’d just take my advice. But if he doesn’t, he’s on a dangerous path indeed; in a short time, he’ll be past the point of no return, and even I won’t be able to help him. The clock is ticking and Jesus needs to make a choice. Change course, listen to me, and live, so that his voice will continue to be heard…. or keep on going the direction he’s going. Mark my words, people, and mark them well. If he stays on this current path - doesn’t make an about-face and make it quickly - he will soon be a dead man.Trust me when I say I’m not exaggerating here. They will kill him and he will be a dead man. And let me ask you the same question I’ll ask him when next I see him: Honestly now, of what possible use is a dead man?!?  

The Rev. Claudine Carlson

The Reverend Claudine Carlson, SSJD Alongsider

HOMILY: Ash Wednesday, preached by Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD at Massey College

Massey College, St. Catherine’s Chapel, March 1, 2017

Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD

Joel 2:1-2,29-35

Ps 103:8-18

Mathhew 6: 1-6, 16-21

In the Name of God, for the Love of God, to the Glory of God. Amen.

There was an interesting (and to me really funny) story in the news last Thursday about a 21-year old man who drove his SUV into the streetcar tunnel down at Queen’s Quay. It took eight people to get him out with a special crane that ran on tracks, and the incident diverted streetcar traffic for several hours during the morning rush hour. Lots of money lost and spent for the city and the TTC. And his penalty? A fine of merely $425!

But why did he do do such a thing the police asked? “I was just following my GPS” he said!

I think Ash Wednesday – and Lent as a whole – is about exactly that – following our GPS, or recalibrating when we have gotten off track. But the GPS we should be following is what one of my Sisters calls the God Positioning System – not that annoying disembodied voice that hounds you to turn left even if you want to turn right, even if turning left is going to lead you into a traffic jam, or Lake Ontario – or a streetcar tunnel. And when you don’t follow the voice’s instructions it just gets more and more stressed – until finally it gives up in despair and says “recalibrating, recalibrating, recalibrating.”

Our God Postioning System doesn’t do that. Its voice is not pushy or insistent. Rather it offers a gentle invitation to recalibrate our lives, to look at what is really important to us and set our course anew. Ash Wednesday, with the ritual of the imposition of ashes, is a reminder of our mortality. We have come from the dust of the earth and our bodies will return there. But that is not the end of the story because we are created by the original GPS – the voice of the creating God who said “let us make humankind in our image.” God’s image is stamped on us. And because we are made in God’s image we too have the gift of creativity and freedom – the freedom to choose which GPS we want to follow.

The scripture readings for today help us to do that. At first, though, it may seem as if we’re listening to two conflicting GPS voices. “Blow the trumpet,” says the prophet Joel, “sound an alarm – a day of darkness and deep gloom is coming. Call on the name of the Lord – anyone who does will be saved.”

But then in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus says “do not blow the trumpet” – don’t blow your own horn to advertise your piety. Practice your prayer and your care for the poor privately. Go into you room and shut the door and the God who created you, who sees you everywhere, will reward you. And Jesus makes it clear in other places that the reward we will receive is not an earthly reward but the reward of an intimate relationship with the God who created us and loves us

So which voice do we listen to? Blow the trumpet or don’t blow the trumpet? Well, both of course.Both are proclaiming the same essential message – pay attention to what is happening in the world around you, and position yourself so you are grounded, rooted, in the love of a God who said at Jesus’ baptism, and again on the mount of Transfiguration, “this is my Son, the Beloved – listen to him.”

Call the community to prayer, Joel says, that we may repent of our preoccupation with things, with what the Hebrew prophets constantly call “false gods.” Call on God’s name, not on the name of wealth or power or greed or ambition.

Go to prayer yourself, Jesus tells us – enter into that place of intimacy with God your creator where you too can hear God say “you are my beloved son, my beloved daughter.”

Both these voices of Ash Wednesday call us to a holy Lent, a Lent that is not about false piety or spiritual practices that we undertake just because we think we ought to, but a Lent where the trumpet calls the community to prayer, and where the inner voice calls the individual to prayer, and where individual and community come together to respond to Jesus’ invitation to accept his gift of himself – to receive the bread and wine of the Eucharist, the nourishment we need if we are to stay on course, to know we are God’s beloved sons and daughters..

And that is what it means to keep a holy Lent. Let me close with a story from the second century Christian literature, from a book called The Shepherd of Hermas.

"I was sitting on a hillside, rather pleased with myself. I was fasting, as I often did, denying myself food, and getting up very early to climb the mountain and pray. I felt in this way I could repay the Lord for some of the difficult things he went through for me.  But then the shepherd approached me.

"What are you doing up here so early in the morning?" he asked.

"I'm observing a fast," I said, "to the Lord."

"What sort of a fast is that?"

"Oh, my usual. I abstain from food. Deny myself luxuries. Get up early. And pray."

The shepherd didn't look impressed.

"That's not the sort of fast that pleases the Lord," he said. "That's not what God asks of you."

He could see the puzzled look on my face.

"Look, God does not want you to deny yourself good things. That is no road to holiness. A true fast is to deny yourself bad things: keep God’s commandments, do what God says, reject evil thoughts and desires the moment they enter your imagination. Reject what is wrong and serve God with a simple, uncomplicated heart.   If you do that, you are fasting – fasting in a way that pleases the Lord."

Listen to the voice of your GPS: you are my son, my daughter, my beloved.