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Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 5:27-32

Psalm 118:14-29

Revelation 1:4-8

John 20:19-31

Sermon by Pastor Nelson

I had my sermon mostly finished last Monday and then we heard the news of Pope Francis’ death.  So I want to say a few words about him. I look at myself, as I hope you all do as catholic, but not Roman Catholic.

I am fortunate to have started my ministry in the time of John XXIII and now at 85 to end my ministry influenced by Francis.  Pope Francis wanted us as pastors/shepherds to be among the people, “to have the smell of the sheep.” He did not want a fur cape, nor red slippers and he rode around in a small fiat and will be buried in a pine box.

Yes he was a humble person who literally said, “he just wanted to be known as a good guy.”  How does that compare to the leader in the USA who wants to be the strongman? Pope Francis’ trip to Canada to apologize to the indigenous people was “one of a kind.”  There will be an election of a new pope, please read the book or watch the movie “conclave.” I am told it gives us a good idea of what will take place.

Now let us get to my sermon.  Last Sunday was Easter. Your pastor and you were full of vim and vigour, it was a grand day. Today, the Sunday after Easter is always, if not a downer, certainly a “low” Sunday.  Your pastor “got out of dodge,” and you are stuck with an 85-year-old “Chester,” who was delivering the times-colonist in his 11th floor apartment building at 3 am this morning, and now needs a nap, and tomorrow we have an election, one of the most important elections in our lifetime.  I wish we had John A here, even though he was a conservative, with all of his faults, because he beat back the Americans who wanted to put tariffs on us way back then.  Incidentally, at one time, he represented Victoria and he never came out to Victoria. Among other things he also got a railroad going east to west across our great country. Keeping up with the theme, for this Sunday, “a downer,” the second lesson from Revelation jumps out at me today.  Revelation will be used for six weeks and I will try to concentrate on revelation for today and next week and in my own sermons for the rest of the easter season.

It will probably drive me and you crazy but after tomorrow’s election, we may all feel a little crazy. Remember Martin Luther did not want Revelation in the Canon but he did not want James either.  But I have enjoyed James, so let us try Revelation.  The language from Revelation is as vivid as it is mysterious.  “It requires of its readers confident, steady intonation which will more than adequately convey a sense of value.” So says a guide to how to read Revelation on a Sunday morning.  Revelation is apocalyptic literature, like Daniel.  Sorry, if that ruins your Daniel in the lion’s den story.  Apocalyptic literature frequently reflects a negative view of the world and expresses the hope for salvation in a new creation or in another life. Someway, it was/is supposed to comfort faithful people in difficult times.  The word apocalyptic means, disclosure or ‘revelation.’ The book of revelation definitely should not be translated literally. But, of course, the “right wing religious nuts” do it all the time.  I am sorry but “I calls them as I sees them.”

There are several lessons that we can draw from this first chapter of revelation used in our lectionary today.

-        First, we are not the intended audience, we are not the seven churches.

-        Revelation was not written for you and me.

-        It was not written to predict our time or represent our world.

When we make it about us and about predicting our time, we not only miss the whole point of the book, but we get caught up in “paranoid fantasies.”

Elisabeth Schussler Florenza, a Krister Stendahl professor at Harvard, puts it this way, “something very strange happens when this text is appropriated by readers in a comfortable, powerful, majority community: It becomes a gold mine for paranoid fantasies and for those who want to preach revenge and destruction.”   Like I said, “right wing religious nuts.”  Florenza is Roman Catholic and Stendahl was a Swedish Lutheran.  You cannot get any better than that. The author, who we call John, wrote Revelation about 95 AD. Christians who refused to call the Emperor of Rome, “lord and god” were being killed or exiled. Thus this John was writing to them not us. We, as preachers, must write/preach to people here and now, and not to some far-off nether land.

“We must smell like our sheep.” -> Remember, “it is where you live and work and play, that is where god is.” John’s churches were made up of a persecuted minority, people who were indigenous to the area, a mix of Jewish and Gentile, all following the testimony of Jesus, while living under Roman occupation.  They were on the margins of the empire, poor and religiously persecuted by Rome. Sad to say we have the like in Victoria and Ottawa as well. I wish I could say it will change after tomorrow’s election.

John’s message to them during their time was “patient endurance,” and resist assimilation into the ideology of the empire. I wonder if any of our forefathers told this message to the indigenous people of turtle island?

What is most important as we read Revelation is, because of the historical, contextual and experiential difference between the first readers of John’s writings and us, we cannot assume to understand all of the symbolism and allegory taking place in the text. [Which many of our fellow Christians do not understand and continually misinterpret revelation.]  Many preachers love fiction mysteries, and so do I. This writing from John, surely is a mystery.  John is smuggling notes out from Patmos to those churches, using biblical language, images, and symbolism that the Roman readers would not automatically understand. This is one way to pass notes under the nose of the authorities without getting caught.  [this happened many times in the second world war.]

Marianne Maye Thompson called Revelation a kind of political cartoon, “until we are well-acquainted with the people and the events it was written for and about, the joke is lost on us.”  Basically then this writing in Revelation, is not about us. This is a letter from a pastor to people in the midst of great suffering and challenge, he was a shepherd for his sheep, shaping their imaginations by “the lamb that was slain.”  By recognizing the distance between us and these first readers/hearers, we “may,” find our own way into this text of faith today. I mentioned our indigenous brothers and sisters hearing these words. I tried to say these words to the horn honkers of a couple of years ago and I would think these words would have meaning to the Ukrainians as well, if they had time to listen. This writing from this John is not an end time prediction [as again so many preachers try to make it] but an apocalyptic unmasking. Let us then see what lies underneath the surface. Yes, I would like to make Russia the bear of revelation as many have done,  but this is not a book of prophecy. I am sure the John of Patmos was smart but not that smart. What the book of revelation is, is a prophetic book from Jesus through John, speaking as all biblical prophets do, against superpowers that oppress the most vulnerable and seek to take the place of God.   Sounds like down south, eh? The writer of revelation is trying to awaken his audience to the presence of marginalized forces otherwise unnamed and unchallenged.  The struggle against the powers for John’s congregations was in the now, and so it must be for us. John writes to those who are suffering at the hands of the powerful. His vision of Jesus is meant to unmask what is really going on so that they are able to see things in context and to understand the larger picture and how to sustain and resist. How can I not compare President Zelenskyy against Putin or Trump or even worse Canada to the USA.

But please recognize John of Patmos did not have that kind of foresight, but we can learn from him. John had connections to those churches, he was imprisoned on the Island of Patmos. John’s scathing critique of Rome would be enough to land him in trouble and just like now, his communications were continually being looked at. John was/is setting up the reader to emulate the resistance of Jesus when he says, “Jesus the Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This Jesus who proclaimed release to the captives, liberation for the oppressed and was himself crushed by the empire, He is the faithful one.

You see revelation sees Jesus as the firstborn of the dead, inaugurating a new creation, a new social order, a new ethic, a new way of relating not only to one another but to the imperial powers.  That is easter!

So, we have not a book that says the end of the world is near, as many preachers would like it to say, but as a letter or handbook for how the early church resisted the empire and something we can learn from. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote a letter from a ‘Birmingham jail.’ He called the church to be faithful and not to assimilate with the empire. Michael Coren called this to our attention again in ‘The Globe and Mail’, April 18, 2025, when he pleaded with the ‘Christian’ administration of the USA which turns out to be the most ‘unchristian’ administration of all times.

Coren rightfully said, “they are obsessed with the end times. But they do not understand, ‘it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the Kingdom of God.’ They do not understand, ‘what must I do to obtain eternal life, sell everything and give the money to the poor.’”  Recently, they even had the Vice President lecturing the Pope. The Pope died the next day, can you imagine? Trump and his gang understand to be a Christian, means you never apologize and you slander the messenger.  What religious playbook does all that come from? That is why we are voting tomorrow.    Can we in 2025 find ways to be faithful to the message of Jesus against the empire that challenges our own comforts and the positions we may have to take tomorrow?   Can we read Revelation not as a book that has scared children for generations and the “left behind” series who turned revelation into a pop-cultural icon and cash cow, featuring eternal torture and punishment for many, while a few of God’s chosen get to experience all the luxuries of heaven? I do not know about you but it all sounds like Trump’s Christianity to me.   

May we read revelation as a book which talks to people who are oppressed by an empire and see at least some of the early church who actually understood what the liberating message of the resurrection really was/is. The Rev. Daniel berrigan wrote, “was this John of Patmos a kook? We ask the question because it seemed as though the early church was facing the same question, at least by implication. No, he was not a kook, he suffered for Jesus and thus for the faith.” The seven churches also had this same vision of John, welcomed it, and believed it. In other words, the vision is for the community and not just for john or the seven churches.” It is for us also. Thus, each year, the readings for this Sunday provide us with a literary window through which we revisit the early church, and find what should be. John the gospel writer reminds us that we belong to a community founded on the peace of Christ.

Following the John of Patmos and the John of the Gospel, we find the strength to endure every difficulty because the story of Jesus is a pledge to us. We will hear of a vine with many branches, a living member, likened to a body and again and again as a community brought together by a faith and a communion open to all. Does that always happen? No. But through it all we hear the word shalom [peace] and we receive it, and share it, forgiveness that is, ‘the peace that passes all understanding.’  I am not sure what the resurrection means but I can begin to know what peace and forgiveness mean.  For some reason, those who found Thomas on another day, were not capable of communicating the whole message to him. But they did get him to join them a week later. In reality the other disciples had not fully caught on either. Thomas grasped what none of them had grasped; we are not exempt from suffering.  But God’s forgiveness expresses a love as vulnerable as human beings and more powerful than evil. Thomas did not, does not stand back in awe. Thomas found that evil as horrendous as it was, was not omnipotent.  Thomas’ faith did not come easy, but for that reason it would become unshakeable. With Thomas we can understand that God forgives us in our freely chosen vulnerability. But with Thomas we realize that the God who suffered and still suffers in the world’s victims, invites us into a history-changing transformation. Thomas reminds us that honestly facing our doubts can open us to greater faith. Thomas allowed God to reveal god’s face in a new and fuller way. Thomas shows us that god frees us to forgive and be forgiven.

Finally let me say, it is inspiring to look at the early church, through the scriptures. Hopefully it will give us an impetus for the present and the future. Centuries from now, will our descendants in the faith be looking back at us and seeing a vision of faith, a vision of forgiveness, and above all a vision love?  This is the word of God for us today even when the symbolism of revelation baffles us.  This is the word of God for us today in a world marked by the raw exercise of political power. The shadow of the roman empire would have fallen mightily on the earliest readers of Revelation. This is the word of God for us today, not tomorrow. Revelation is a text about the present, not about the future. These stories today are about a hope in a God we can trust and an expectation for a future that god has crafted. This is a word about god for us today.

Jesus says, “he is the Alpha and the Omega, the A and the Z, the beginning  and the end, the dawn of the world and its dusk.” Revelation is not a road map to the end of the days. It is fundamentally about the character of God. It is about how we relate to God and to one another. Revelation is not about bold predictions about days yet to come. Revelation is about seeing the work of God in the ordinary, unremarkable moments that fill our lives. Revelation warns us about complacency. That has never been as true as it is today. In all of this we might just see our own struggles and successes reflected back to us. But revelation reminds God’s faithful that God is in control but god does not act alone. We need to be awake and aware of the evil that ‘The Empire’ still maintains.


AND WE SAY


OF THE FATHER’S LOVE BEGOTTEN

ERE THE WORLDS BEGAN TO BE,

HE IS ALPHA AND OMEGA,

HE THE SOURCE, THE ENDING HE,

OF THINGS THAT ARE,

THAT HAVE BEEN,

AND THAT FUTURE YEARS SHALL SEE,

EVERMORE AND EVERMORE.

[ELW 295]


AND WE HEAR


“GO, MY CHILDREN, WITH MY BLESSING,

NEVER ALONE.

GO, MY CHILDREN, WITH MY BLESSING,

YOU ARE MY OWN.”

[ELW 543]  

 

AMEN.

Updated: 6 days ago


Click above to watch a recording of Sunday's Sermon

Easter Sunday

Acts 10:34-43

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

1 Corinthians 15:19-26

Luke 24:1-12

(The context of this sermon was 100% written in Canada by a human)

Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

The sun has risen, the tomb has been cracked open, the world has been transformed. Seven days ago, Jesus entered Jerusalem to a cheering and then a jeering mob. Three days ago, the disciples ate their last meal together, not entirely knowing that the next day, nothing would be the same. On Good Friday, Jesus took his last breath on the cross, and his followers could feel only helpless, hopeless anger. And yet today, on this brilliant Easter Sunday, the world has changed entirely once again. Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

Over our Lenten journey, we have been asked to consider what we might need to change in ourselves to make the gospel shine more brightly in our lives. What is broken that we might mend? What is neglected that requires our attention? What – and who- are lost that we can find?

If Good Friday is about sitting with all that change and wrestling with our anger at our own failings and those of humanity in general, then Easter morning – this morning – is about transformation. The sun set on one world and rose on another. The followers of Jesus had thought everything was over, but now they knew they had a new beginning. What of their grief, and anger --  did it just vanish? Let’s come back to that.

As human beings, we get so nervous about change. But why? Everything changes. Winter gives way to spring; elementary school becomes high school; work becomes retirement. It is inevitable.  I think we fear it because we assume that change will be hard, and we don’t like to risk not being happy. The disciples, after all, had been hearing Jesus preach every day about new life and God’s grace, and they still thought the death of Jesus was the end of the story. Yet everything happened just as it was meant to. The resurrection happened. Jesus rose from the dead. 

And yet, who is resurrected? A transformed Jesus – the same teacher and healer they know, but also formed into someone new, who had died and risen again. This is the gift we are also offered with Easter – the chance to experience a new beginning, a transformation, to let go of what we no longer want to hold on to, to carry forward what we do, and to rise up to a new day.  Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

So what do we bring into this Easter Sunday? For many of you, I know, it is not all sunshine.  You cannot leave behind everything that grieves you or causes you sorrow. If your family is like mine, you are also carrying anger and worry about the future of our country and feelings of betrayal by our closest ally. We cannot leave all of it, nor should we want to do so. But on Easter, we are shown how we can transform it into something worthy, grace-centred, and hopeful.

Think of the women, in despair and angry, who found the tomb opened and, Jesus gone, thinking the worst had happened., In that moment it was true, and in the next, Jesus appeared to them, and they ran joyfully to tell the disciples what had happened. Think of the disciples fearfully making plans, angry at themselves for failing to save Jesus, and trying to flee, only to learn that Jesus had appeared outside the tomb. They hit the road, their courage renewed.

And yet, were they all suddenly no longer sad, no longer fearful, no longer angry? Did Easter erase all of the past and reset the day, or did it, in fact, reform the day with all the parts that remained true?

Think of us right now as a country, carrying around all that worry and anger. And yet, for me it keeps transforming. I watch my fellow Canadians buying ‘produced in Canada’ at the grocery store, and I feel inspired. I see the rallying of support online and I feel hope. I listen to a new conversation about what it means to be Canadians – that it means more than just being “not-American” and I feel better. But are my worry and anger gone? They ae not, but they are changed, because they dwell now with hope and inspiration and a sense of what is right.

We talk about Easter as a new beginning, and it is – for us. God is who God ever was; Jesus is who Jesus ever was. But with Easter, we are reminded, in human terms, with the most real-world examples, that even when we think we are alone, we are not. When things seem at an end, look ahead. When we think the stone is set, it is rolled away. Easter is a reminder that we don’t have to carry our mistakes around until they drag us into the ground. We have only to bring them to God to be transformed by forgiveness, and learn from them, and in that way they are changed into lessons from which we grow.  Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

Now, there is a lot happening in the world, a lot we cannot control. We can spend our time worrying about the things we cannot change, or we can focus on what action we can take. The Resurrection is a powerful reminder of our choice. It was God’s work, and a moment over which we had no control. A gift given to us, like a brilliant sunset on a warm spring day after a long, dreary winter. We don’t make the sun rise, we don’t make the spring arrive, and we didn’t make the resurrection happen. And yet, just as Mary and the women realized, racing back from the open tomb, just as the disciples learned, slipping quietly out of Jerusalem, the choice is how we respond. We decide what to do with the day started by the sun, what kindness we will share, what compassion we will show. We decide to step optimistically into spring, looking for ways to serve. We decide whether to claim the Resurrection for the new start God offers.   

What does that mean in our modern upside-down world? We have a new identity, an upgrade on our old one. This version of us doesn’t save our own skins - for we are already saved. And we don't have to cover our own you-know-whats, because mistakes, as the gospel teaches us through the stories of the prodigal son and the tax collector, are the necessary learning moments of life. We need neither feel shame at our failures, nor boast about our achievements. The resurrection releases us from this. From the shame-mongering, and the one-up-man-ship, and the paralyzing self-doubt. Because we are forgiven—we are resurrected—we are free.  Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!

This is the joyful news of Easter.  The Resurrection represents the purest of freedoms. A gift given with no expectation, only the hope that we will accept it and put it to the best of use. The foundation has been laid, the sacrifice made, the grief transformed into hope. Our calling -- our only calling -- is to carry the gospel into the parts of life over which we have control – the people we love, the community where we live, the world we inhabit – to bring it to new life with each rising sun, again and again and again.  Because Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!  Alleluia!


Click above to watch a recording of Good Friday's Sermon

Good Friday

Psalm 22

John 18:1--19:42

(The context of this sermon was 100% written

in Canada by a human)

What must the women have been thinking, standing at the foot of the cross on that first Good Friday? Standing there on that hill in Golgotha in the shadow of a nightmare. Jesus – a man they loved, an innocent man, a great and kind man – dying on the cross above them. What must they have felt, wincing as each nail was hammered into his feet and his hands?

Surely, inflaming their shock and grief, they must have felt anger burning in their souls, the anger of those who have no power to stop an injustice they see more clearly than anyone.

What of the disciples, in their place of hiding, knowing what was happening on the hill? Their friend, their teacher, the one who had led them from their ordinary lives, was even then being murdered.

What did they feel? Certainly sorrow. Regret, I imagine, that they had not stood up and done more to save him. Hate, for those carrying out this crime. Helplessness that they could not change it.

And anger, surely, the helpless anger, of those who, having failed to act, must now watch a great friend die, and know they cannot stop it.

And what of the mob, so ravenous to see Jesus on the cross? So quickly switched from cheering to jeering. What would they have been feeling? Perhaps a doubt, creeping in. Perhaps a conscience, whispering too softly to be heard. Most certainly anger, the kind that spews forth when we feel threatened, when we are afraid, when we have been fooled by misinformation, when we are offered an innocent man and told he is not innocent at all, and we believe it because we want to, because this anger – this anger that says “I didn’t get what I deserved” feels so much better than shame.

Let us consider these three angers: helplessness, powerlessness, misguidedness. Have we not felt them all? The anger of the women on the hill when they see what needs to be fixed and yet have no power to fix it; the anger that makes us want to scream -- at life, at God, at anyone -- to stop what cannot be stopped. Have we not felt this as well? The anger of the disciples that cries out in the pain of regret, with rage at what cannot be changed. This anger says, “I am sorry. I did not know.” This anger turns backward upon us, because, like the disciples, we always did know. And who among us can claim never to have been swept up in a mob, raging selfishly for someone else to suffer for a problem we caused or did not prevent or are not prepared to pay the cost of to fight today? This anger says: “You need to pay for doing this to me.” This anger avoids responsibility. This anger drowns out the shame.

These angers exist in our past, our present, and our future. They visit us when we are sitting while a loved one wastes away from a terrible disease that cannot be cured. While watching a family member walk out of our lives who we cannot bring back. History has been a long and weary witness to anger – those unable to save their family being marched off to the ovens in the Holocaust; the victims of racism who have been enslaved by violence and bigotry; the mob that flings its rage out in selfishness and cruelty and turns it back on the harm it causes.

What could Good Friday possibly teach us about what to do with our helpless, or shameful, or selfish anger? Good Friday didn’t work out. Pontius Pilate didn’t find some hidden decency and courage inside himself and set Jesus free. The mob didn’t recognize their own hate, and stop; no, they just kept yelling, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” No sympathetic Roman guard spirited Jesus to safety. No miracle from heaven lifted him off the cross. None of that happened. Jesus died an ugly, painful death. He died nailed to a cross so that he could not even be comforted with a kind touch. On that cross, in the midst of his own doubt and helpless anger, he asked for our forgiveness, at the very time we should have been asking for his. What should we do with that? Where should we take the helpless anger?

Good Friday is the darkest day of our faith: it takes us into the valley of death and makes us complicit in what happens there. It forces us to look at the cruelty and weakness of humanity and see ourselves in that same mob. It teaches us life’s hardest lesson: sometimes, here on earth, good people fall, and nobody picks them up. So we stand in the shadow of the cross and we feel that powerless, guilt-ridden, vengeful anger, and think “What is the point of anything?”

And yet, we know the answer. For Jesus taught us. He taught us when he defended the vulnerable, when he chastised the Pharisees, when he trashed the temple. He taught us that we can be angry, but only for the right reasons, only for other people, only if we use that anger to change the world, only if we wrap it in compassion and tolerance and mercy, and temper it with mindful prayer.

Anger, as Jesus taught, is not useful when it distorts the truth and conceals solutions for its own purposes. When we feel that fierce cry within us that something is wrong, we can bring it to God, who can bear all things. And our anger, once helpless and paralyzing, can become something righteous, and motivating.

And we will see, as the women at the cross will see, that if we could not save the ones we loved, we can still save the gospel in their memory. We will see, as the disciples see, that we can create something honorable from guilt.

We have our very own example today, standing guard in this time of betrayal and friendship broken by our closest ally. We feel helpless to change a government we didn’t elect and can’t control. We feel guilty, perhaps, that we did not think about protecting the values and sovereignty and economy of our own country long before it was under threat. We feel rage, the kind that wants to boo the anthem of the opposing team, even at a kid’s hockey game.

How will we transform that anger into something better?

First, we must own and carry the weight of it. This is what today is meant for. We are invited to stand in the shadow of the cross. To feel all that pain. To own all that anger. To ponder it in our hearts. And to lay it before the cross, to ask God to help us carry it, awaiting the certain answer to guide us forward. Amen.

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