March 8 ~ Discovering the Desire for Depth

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Exodus 17:1-7

Psalm 95

Romans 5:1-11

John 4:5-42

Sermon by Joel Crouse

We are a searching species. We search for success, for money, for good fortune. And yet even when we achieve those things, we still feel something is missing, that our search is not complete. That is because, as we learn when we have them, life is not truly rich without purpose, meaning, curiosity, and introspection – because through those qualities, we find love.

The Samaritan woman teaches us all this lesson. Her story is one of the simplest and yet the most profound of how life becomes more real and meaningful when we add the dimension of depth. Her story is also remarkable – it is one of the longest conversations that Jesus has with someone in the gospel, and he has it with a most unlikely character. As we hear in the gospel - even the disciples were shocked.

Her story begins with a great discovery, one that happened by chance. Jesus was on the way to Jerusalem. At the sixth hour—noon our time—he stopped at the restaurant of his day—a well. It was Jacob’s well on the outskirts of the city of Samaria. While the disciples went to the nearest store to get some food, Jesus sat down to rest his weary legs.

As he sat there, a woman came along to draw some water from the well. She was astonished when Jesus asked her for a drink. For one thing, Jesus was crossing the barrier of the sexist custom which did not allow a man to speak to a woman in public. For another, he was crossing the barrier of racism. Complete amazement at the request of Jesus caused her to blurt out, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman from Samaria?”

To which he replied, “If you knew the gift of God and who was saying to you, ‘Give me a drink’, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” What a strange response. She could have said, “Why don’t you mind your own business?”, as she was trying to mind hers. Or she could have said, “That’s ridiculous.” How could you give me a drink when I have the dipper in my hand?” But she didn’t. She was at the point of making a discovery. What better way to do that than to ask the question, “Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well?” Jacob was her hero, you see. Anyone greater than him would have to be God.

With the first part of his answer, Jesus points out something the woman, in her weary role of going back and forth hauling water, was already sensing. You can’t find happiness in life if you live it in only two dimensions. “Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again.” Jesus said, “Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give will never thirst.”

Whoever finds the third dimension of the waters of God’s grace will know the gift of new life that is freely offered. That is the great discovery that the Samaritan woman made at Jacob’s well.

I suppose our presence here this morning indicates that we have also made that discovery. Or maybe we have come here hoping to make it. If you have already made the discovery, then the greatest pitfall is that the water might have become stale. It is not easy to sustain faith as a discovery. What once was greeted with great enthusiasm becomes commonplace. Note that the thing you once discovered with great joy and satisfaction hasn’t changed one bit. If anything, it’s probably improved. It’s our perception, our attitude towards it, that has changed.

Happy is the person who greets each day as a new discovery, each moment with a loved one as a new opportunity. But especially happy is the person who keeps the water of life fresh. Love and grace are meant to become deeper and more meaningful to us.

That really happens through desire. “Sir,” the Samaritan woman said, “give me this water, that I may not thirst.” The psalmist says, “my soul thirsts for the living God.” I believe that just as our bodies have been created with a thirst for water, so our inner beings have been fashioned with a thirst for the divine. Deep within us we cry out for depth. But so often we don’t let that cry come to the surface. The surface desires of our own immediate needs so preoccupy us that we never take the time to focus on the real questions.

Notice that the desire within the Samaritan woman needed to be expressed in worship. Her only problem was she didn’t quite know how to worship. Should she go up the mountain like her fellow Samaritans did to speak to God, or down to Jerusalem to the temple as the Jews did?

Jesus helps her out with one of the great lines to come from his mouth: “God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth.” The place, Jesus says, is not important even though his custom was to worship in the synagogue each Sabbath. But what is important is the worshipper, their readiness in Spirit to have a relationship with the Divine and their absolute honesty in expressing their desires.

That leads us to the third dimension the woman found at Jacob’s well—direction. She came to the well as an aimless wanderer. The only vision she had was gathering water. She left the well to tell anyone who would listen how her life had been renewed.

For one thing, that new direction meant being honest with herself. She had to look at the truth of who she was and find the direction that would give her new life and hope. We can’t hide from ourselves. And we certainly cannot hide from God. When you stand before God, your whole life stands before God. A life with direction which meditates upon what is true, honourable, just, loving and gracious, is a life that has meaning and depth to it.

But the other direction the woman received, as she left her waterpots, was to go and tell others about what she had learned to be true for her. What a change in direction. Where once she questioned Jesus for talking to her, now she was speaking to men and women alike about this Jesus that had changed the direction of her life.

The direction we are called in is a radical change from living for ourselves to living for others. To help ourselves AND OTHERS find the dimension of depth for life by hearing the gospel and living it out in action. We become the dipper bringing new life to all people.

Discovery, Desire, and Direction. They all add up to depth. The Samaritan woman helps us to discover it. Jesus wants us to desire it. And Lent sets us in the right direction to find it.

Amen

March 1 ~ A Gospel That Doesn't Point Fingers but Points Towards Values

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Genesis 12:1-4a

Psalm 121

Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

John 3:1-17

Sermon by Joel Crouse

Our gospel today gives us a line that is so familiar it can almost slip past us:

“Indeed, God did not send Jesus into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”  Not to condemn. But to save.  Not to judge, but to serve. 

But is this true?  Jesus appears to spend his fair share of time pointing out what was wrong in the world. He sometimes couched his ideas in parables, but we understood: the person who walks by a dying man and doesn’t offer help– that’s wrong. The person who devalues someone because they are just a woman at a well – wrong. The person who would trade his beliefs for money and honour - wrong.

How easy and delicious that feels. The world gets so simple. The person who breaks a law: Wrong. The person who lies: Wrong. The person who fails to help: consider yourself judged. And we have so many targets today for our condemnation and judgement. We are living in a moment when so many people are doing harm so publicly, so casually, so boldly. The headlines come at us like a flood. Leaders spew racism with impunity, or lie brazenly when we can see the truth for ourselves. Communities have been unjustly targeted. Our own country is continually insulted. Rage-baiting is rising. The ethical bar is falling. 

We could spend our whole day handing out condemnations, and we might even feel a little better at the end of it. Until we didn’t. 

Yet how do we save a world with so much wrongdoing, without condemnation? How do we serve the gospel without clear values, without judging?

Let’s take an example that seems small, but really isn’t.

After the United States men’s hockey team won the gold medal against Canada, they got a call from the President of the United States. And during that call, Mr. Trump showered them with praise and glory and then offered up a private jet to the Oval Office. And then he made a joke, telling the men that he would have to invite the women’s team – also gold medal winners – or else he would be impeached. The room filled with laughter, all of it caught on camera. 

In most of my social media feeds, the judgment was swift. These men, most of them professional hockey players, had allowed their teammates to be belittled, even though they had also won gold with far fewer resources, and had received no call from the president. My feed filled up with insulting memes and critiques of the men’s team - even more so when all but five of them showed up for the State of the Union celebration. 

Those jokes were funny; the judgement felt deserved. 

But was it useful? If we were trying to right a wrong, to save rather than condemn, did that judgement accomplish anything?  I don’t think so.

In the first place, it focused a lot of attention on the people we were condemning – a group of people who make a lot of money to play a game, and who live in an entirely different world from the rest of us.  

Secondly, by focusing on the joke and on how the men’s team laughed, we made them the story – so much so that when the captain of the women’s team was asked questions about it in a press conference, she pointed out that here she was, a gold medal winner, having to explain someone else’s behaviour.

Thirdly, by focusing on the players in the room who laughed, we missed the few in the group who cheered for the women. The story could have been: these hockey players refused to go along with a sexist joke. But judging was more fun.

Fourth: instead of judging, we could look more widely at the story, and ask ourselves, “Who needs saving?” By elevating allies, we shift the conversation back to why a certain group would need allies at all. By asking how this kind of belittling joke plays out in the resources and support the women get, we have focused on a problem we might fix. By lifting up graceful winners and honorable losers, we define the world we want. 

And this is the difference between condemning and saving, between judging and serving. In fact, Jesus spent his ministry using what was wrong in the world to highlight what was right. The person who stopped for the dying man – that’s the Good Samaritan we remember. The words of the woman at the well -- that’s the focus of the story Jesus tells.  The tax collector is defined not by his job, but by the choices he makes within it. Jesus may have dodged temptation in the desert with the devil, but when the disciples don’t do the same, they are not condemned.  They are embraced by Jesus to try again. At each stage, Jesus urges us not to spend time on people to be judged, but to look behind them and around them to the people we need to serve. This is why we have a gospel that reveals values, but does not point fingers.

And so, like Jesus, we must be careful that in naming harm, we do not define contempt. That in fighting justice, we still believe in redemption. That we can say “this act was wrong,” without also deciding “this person is beyond hope.” That when we do point to wrongdoing, it is not just a way for us to reassure ourselves: “I am not like them.” For of course, one way or another, we are all imperfect; we all have parts of ourselves that merit judgement.

Now let’s be clear, Jesus was hardly mealy-mouthed. We all know where he stood; his values are clear to us – and yet he made them clear by focusing on what he wanted to save, and not by becoming mired in condemnation. That is not wishy-washy. It is strength. 

Let this be part of our Lenten journey: when we feel ourselves judging, let us stop for a moment. Take a breath. Is this judgement - even a just one -useful? Who am I ignoring when I focus on this judgement? What better cause am I missing? Sometimes, like that rude joke in a locker room, you will see that the focus should be on serving the brunt of the joke, rather than on judging the joker. Or you may recognize that within that very same person we are judging there is also a someone who needs our help.  

Jesus came into the world not to condemn but to save. And so, we are called in the world, not to judge but to serve. Especially this world. And especially now.  

Amen

Feb. 22 ~ The temptation of turning stone to bread and the temptation of easy answer

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Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7

Psalm 32

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Sermon by Joel Crouse

For this Sunday, I was given a sermon from the Eastern Synod’s Climate Justice Committee to read to you. After some thought, however, I am not going to read that sermon - not in its entirety. A copy, however, is available to anyone who wants it.

When I read and reflected on the sermon provided, it didn’t sit right with me. We live in a complicated time, and the words I speak must reflect that. We have to approach this age - when so many of our values are threatened, our sovereignty is challenged, our climate is being destroyed, our children don’t have jobs, and still in this wealthy country, we have people without homes dying on the street. In fact, in January, I buried a man who died on our city streets; no one even knew his name.

In this difficult world, Jesus gives us guidance; and I, from this place, seek to represent that guidance, to pose questions that I hope reveal something of the gospel. As your pastor, I can walk with you toward an answer. I can support you in your search. But your answer, in the end, is between you and God.

In our gospel, this morning, we hear the story of Eve’s temptation by the serpent in the Garden, and the Devil’s temptation of Jesus in the desert. I want to address both - although the Synod’s sermon touches only on the latter.

For starters, I don’t think we should ever read that story about Eve in church, without requiring the pastor to address it. Without the pastor’s comments, too many parts of the Bible have left judgement mistakenly cast on women. We all know the story: God tells Eve and Adam not to eat the apple; the serpent convinces Eve to take a bite, she shares it with Adam, and they leave the Garden of Eden forever. There are so many aspects of this story that have always made me wonder. First, why did God, knowing our human failings, understanding our desire for knowledge and our innate curiosity, place such a test upon us, dangling an apple that would separate us from God within such tantalizing reach? Also, why were we expected to live in paradise forever, when it is against our very nature - when we are a species designed to reach for the future, to grow and change?

Perhaps the lesson here is that God never intended for us to remain in the Garden of Eden forever; but to go out in the world and fail and succeed where we could. By leaving the garden, we acquired free will, the ability to choose our fate; and years later when Jesus arrived on the scene, he honoured and valued that free will by creating a gospel that was a guide and inspiration but not a cage.

In that sense, what did Eve do but hope what all mothers do for their families? That they would find their own way into the world, learn from failure, rejoice in life’s happy moments, and come to know themselves more fully. Who among us, had we been in Eve’s situation would have been able to resist that apple forever? Let us not sit in judgement. To be curious and searching is to take risks. And do we not now as a society see curiosity as the driver for wider thoughts and innovation?

In the desert, the devil presented Jesus with questions with surprisingly simple answers. I do not mean that the questions themselves were easy, only that once Jesus had heard them the answers came easily.

First, the devil tells Jesus, who has been fasting, to turn stone to bread - surely the Son of God can pull off that trick, and the human part of Jesus must be hungry. But Jesus refuses: one cannot live by bread alone. Once you have turned the stone to bread for expediency at the Devil’s request, what then?

Next the devil tries to get Jesus to leap from the top of a temple in a city: either to be saved by God and revered for his miracle or cast to his death. But Jesus refuses again: he will not seek glory - and certainly not by putting God to the test. He doesn’t need glory - which is self-serving and not gospel-serving; and he doesn’t need to test a God he already believes in.

Finally, the Devil, now desperate it seems, says to Jesus: If you just worship me, I will give you everything you desire. Jesus firmly refuses: “I worship God alone.”

Now when I say these answers were easy, I mean in the context of who is asking and who is answering. For us, they are much harder - and we face these temptations all the time, from all kinds of devils. We are tempted to take the easy way out. We are tempted to show off for the sake of our own glory. We are tempted to bend our own values for personal gain. The devil does not appear so clearly to us in the desert; our temptations are so subtle we often don’t hear the questions being asked.

What is true for humans is true for the society that humans created. And certainly, the most damaging way we have given in to all three of these temptations has been at the expense of the Garden of Eden that we have been blessed to live in and charged with its responsibility. Our easy ways out, our overconsumption for glory, our greed, have brought ruin to every corner of the world. We know we need to change our ways more than what we are doing. We know we will need to make ourselves uncomfortable, that we may have to sacrifice - and yet we struggle to do so. We have acquired free will and yet we remained trapped by our lesser selves.

In particular this day, when thinking of our environment, our larger church wants us to think about the first temptation - to make bread into stone. Last spring, the Synod’s Climate Justice Committee, on your behalf, sponsored a “Pilgrimage for the Planet.” A group of Lutherans, some from this congregation, bicycled from Montreal to Parliament Hill in Ottawa to pressure the Canadian government to sign on to the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty. While we drew some attention, our hopes to have conversations with leaders were pre-empted by politicians leaving Parliament Hill to prepare for an election. So now, the committee’s effort is to encourage as many people as possible to call the Minister of the Environment during Lent and express the urgent concern to dramatically reduce subsidizing the extraction and production of petroleum products.

I suppose this endeavour; reminding our leaders what we want for our society is important, even if it does not lead right away to policy change. But as your pastor, I know that for some of you making this call, at this time, might be controversial. Our country is facing many threats; the world has many challenges. Our government is focused on making us less reliant on the United States and expanding our trade with other countries; we are an energy rich country; this is one of our most valuable resources. Can we risk not turning this stone into bread - just this one last time?

Of course, we know the danger: there will always be a next time. A new temptation to use what the earth gives us. But I want to suggest that two things can be true at once; we can recognize the need to protect our sovereignty - and agree as a nation that our dependency on oil needs to stop. We can ask our government to prioritize trade that is environmentally-friendly, to link our country’s future independence to modern green-energy, to focus on skills that will shape a new economy and mitigate climate change. When our government talks about expanding our AI industry, we can ask what energy will be used to run all that machine learning. And we can ask how our trade deals are encouraging other countries reduce their own independence on oil.

In the desert, the questions Jesus faced were about him: would he turn the stone, would he jump from the temple, would he switch sides for gold? We also face those individual questions each day, when it comes to our choices: will we buy Canadian? Will we use up all those leftovers? Will we reduce our consumption? Will we vote for politicians who support environmental policies? Will we set an example with our beliefs? As we see with both Eve and Jesus, those individual choices almost always have larger consequences, however they seep into the world.

So, while societal change may seem farther way - that call to the politician fruitless - society is composed of individuals, and enough individuals can change it.

The Committee mentions one example of hope that we heard about from Sophie Gebreyes a couple of weeks ago: in the recent Friends of Creation project around Lake Chad. Many congregations have been offering funds to support reforestation and sustainable agriculture in a region devastated by climate change. We are trying to fix a problem we largely created. But it should drive home the point that we must also work harder to prevent the problem at its source.

The Climate Justice Committee also rightly points out that our success lies in relationship. Let us all call the Environment Minister and express our desire to eliminate Canada’s dependency on oil - this is an essential goal. But let us also find ways to elevate solutions, to build up shared values, to give up a little so those without can have something.

Make the call to the cabinet minister, but do not stop there - for isn’t stopping there the same easy way out of responsibility? Educate yourself. Have conversations with your friends. Do not be tempted to adopt an easy answer; the solution lies in complexity. We must be curious like Eve to find it; and moral like Jesus to follow through on it. Always with our eye on the Garden of Eden, as our aspiration for the world.

Amen