

Hespeler, March 2, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Transfiguration Sunday
Exodus 34:29-35, Psalm 99, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, Luke 9:28-36, Luke 9:37-43a
The rumour in the camp was that underneath the veil, the face of Moses was shining so brightly that no one could stand the sight of it. That’s what they said, but of course, none of them had ever actually seen it because of the veil.
He would disappear for hours at a time in a tent – in a place that was called the holy of holies. And people said that he met with God and received messages from God there.
What was it like? They knew that Moses wasn’t hearing some voice booming from heaven because surely that was something that they would have heard outside of the tent. Some people argued that perhaps the voice of God came to him more like a whisper – a disembodied voice emanating from the empty space just above the Ark of the Covenant. Others liked to imagine that God materialized bodily right in the tent as a heavenly being in the form of a man or perhaps as a spiritual being made of little more than wind.
They imagined all kinds of things because they really hadn’t a clue what went on in there. They just imagined these wild scenarios, terrifying themselves in the process. All that they knew for sure was that he did encounter God in there and that God gave him messages for all the people.
They probably would have been surprised and maybe disappointed to find out what actually went on in that tent.
Moses didn’t hear voices, not really. He spent his time in deep meditation, emptying his mind of all extraneous thought and then reflecting upon his experience and the law that had been passed down among the people of Israel to discern what God might have to say about any particular circumstance.
And yes, he did believe that the answers that came to him were answers given by God. But that belief was often mixed with doubt and always mixed with an understanding that any answers he came to were partial and incomplete. He struggled over every answer as someone who was called to lead God’s people.
But the people saw none of that struggle because of the veil. Yes, they said it was to cover up the scary aftereffects of him being in the presence of God. But they never got to peek under it. If his face was actually shining or if it was just showing lingering uncertainty or doubt, they didn’t know because all they saw was the veil.
It made everything that Moses said when he wore it absolute truth, the unquestioned word of God. It removed all shades of grey and reduced it all to black and white. But sometimes, I think, Moses must have wished for someone to understand that, under the veil he was just a man and maybe struggled with many of the things that they did.
I find that image of Moses wearing that veil and speaking for God through it to be extremely important. It is fascinating because the wearing of the veil indicates the presence of something that no one can see because of it: the shining of Moses’ face – the lingering aftereffects of being in the presence of God. Ironically, they only know that it is there because they can’t see it.
I think that this brief passage is key to understanding the role that priests and clergy have played in society down through the ages and right up to today. Clergy are these people who have been seen as having a unique relationship with God. They go into their study or vestry or prayer closet and God speaks to them in ways that are not accessible to other people.
In ancient times it was not uncommon for clergy to then literally put a mask or veil over their face and become the literal voice of the god to the people. We have become a little bit more sophisticated than that, of course. But we still have this tendency to defer to our clergy when we see them wearing certain collars or vestments or speaking from special places. It marks them as speaking for God.
I have always felt a little bit conflicted about all such thinking. Let me say this. As a member of the clergy and as someone called to preach in the church of Jesus Christ, I do believe that God uses me to speak the word of God. I know that I have written sermons and said things that, unquestionably as far as I am concerned, come from God and are things that God wants said here and now.
And, no, that is not because I have heard God speaking to me as a voice booming from heaven, nor even some still small voice whispering to me from an invisible point above the communion table.
I have found that message through years of studying the Bible and reading many scholars. I have particularly found that message by reflecting on contemporary events and struggling with the question of how they might relate to scriptures written in a very different time and place. On top of that, I also take the time to meditate and reflect on all of that to allow space for the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts.
And when I do all of that, I have often been amazed to discover a message that I am quite convinced is from God. But, at the same time, I would never say that I don’t have any doubts about that.
I would also never suggest that I have received a complete and final oracle from God – it is more of a particular word for a particular moment. But it certainly is exhilarating to receive and to be able to pass on such a message.
But then what do I do? I come into the church and pass on that message. And, though I do not wear a literal mask or veil, I do feel like there is a kind of a metaphorical veil when I do so. All of the doubt and the ambiguity and the incompleteness of the message is covered up. All of the shades of grey that were there in the study somehow get filtered down to black and white.
That’s why I think I can understand what Moses went through when he put on the veil. I think, to a certain extent every priest and member of the clergy can understand. And maybe, to a certain extent, that veil is necessary. Maybe there are times when we need to have the message presented in black and white, but I still wish that we could find ways to give people more glimpses beneath that veil.
I think that this passage is inviting us to probe a little deeper into the role of clergy in our churches at a time when it seems to be in flux. For many decades now, the life and work specifically of our Presbyterian Churches has been dominated by the clergy.
Most of us grew up in a time when it was normal for every congregation to be led by one minister, at least in urban settings. In rural settings, two or sometimes three-point charges were also quite common. But the assumption was that there would almost always be that clergy in that leadership position.
When a minister moved on or retired, the expectation was that they would be replaced in fairly short order. The interim period was a scary time; congregations did their best to move through it as quickly as possible. The church could then breathe a sigh of relief when a new minister was called and get back to “normal.”
I don’t know if you have noticed this, but things don’t quite work like that in many of our churches these days. Many of the other Presbyterian churches around us these days don’t have full-time clergy. Many of them can’t afford them or struggle to find them if they can.
As a result, the clergy that we do have are being stretched thinner and asked to do more to keep our churches going. This is something that has been contributing to clergy burnout and people leaving the profession, something that has been happening across the religious spectrum in recent years.
Now, I do believe that there is a vital role for the clergy in our churches. I do believe that the depth of study and experience we bring to the church is essential. I expect clergy to continue to contribute in that way for a long time to come. But I also think that we are going to see a shift in the role of the clergy in coming years.
In particular, I see us shifting from being a denomination that is clergy led and supported by the laity to one that is led by the laity who are supported by the clergy. That is a subtle shift, but its an important one. And one of the key parts of that is a changing attitude towards those jobs that have been traditionally reserved only for the clergy.
Traditionally, in our denomination, the things that only clergy could do were preaching, leading the sacraments of baptism and communion, and moderating sessions. But that is changing, and I believe the change will accelerate in years to come.
For some time now, we have come to realize the wisdom and blessing that comes from the preaching of the laity. We have learned that lay preachers are not lesser preachers, nor greater preachers, but they are different preachers and they bring their own perspective which is valuable and enlightening.
More recently, the church has opened up ways for the laity to step up and offer leadership in the sacraments. And again, that’s not because they do it better nor is it that they are second best. They bring their own unique approach and wisdom to the task and that is also a gift to the church.
That is why, when the session considered the possibility of designating one of our elders as a sacramental elder, I supported the motion. I think having Steve as such an elder is an incredible asset that we now have.
We can ask him now to preside at the communion table or at the baptismal font when it is needed. We can even designate him to go to other congregations and lead in the sacraments when they may have a hard time finding someone to do so.
I welcome this development. Some might say that it takes away from the uniqueness and the mystique of the role of the clergy. Some even think that it will make the clergy irrelevant. But I don’t see it that way. I see it as welcoming us all to peek beyond the veil. It is an invitation to see that whoever is preaching or whoever is leading in the sacraments, they are human.
They don’t really have all the final answers. They don’t have an absolute truth that they can present in black and white. And they are not manipulating some sort of magical power. But they do have what we all have, the ability to encounter God in our own way and on our own terms and to share that experience with others in powerful ways.
I respect the traditional role of the clergy and also the traditional ways in which their special role has been marked. We don’t use veils or masks, but we have found other ways to mark them as speakers of the truth.
But truth, as important as it is, is seldom black and white. Finding truth is a struggle and a quest. It involves frequent doubts and questions and uncertainties. But it is the most important struggle that we can ever have. And it is something that I invite us all to engage in, beneath the veil.
Hespeler, February 23, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany
Genesis 45:3-15, Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40, 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50, Luke 6:27-38
The sons of Jacob had been hearing disturbing things about the country to the south (and west) of them for some time. It seemed that Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, had essentially handed over the control of his entire nation to some unelected immigrant who he called Zaphnath-Paaneah. (Genesis 41:45)
I realize that that name is a bit of a mouthful. That is why people mostly referred to this man as the First Buddy. When they wanted to mock the Pharaoh for giving up most of his power, they called him President Zaph.
Having obtained enormous power, President Zaph immediately set about using it in unprecedented ways. He created a new department to achieve his goal of Disrupting Operations Governing Egypt (or D.O.G.E. as he liked to call it). And he sent out his DOGE goons to seize control of all of the granaries in the country.
He spent the next seven years plundering the best food produced in the Nile Valley, the breadbasket of the ancient world, from the farmers and workers of Egypt. All of the food he took and stored up in the granaries that were under his exclusive control.
When people complained and asked who he was to do such things, Zaph explained that he was doing it all for their own good. He understood that what he was doing might cause the people of Egypt enormous harm, but that was a price that he was willing to pay.
And then, after seven years of Zaph sucking up everything from the people and imposing complete control, it was like everything finally collapsed. The entire economy had been despoiled of all of its resources and many sectors just began to shut down. This led to a recession that caused widespread shortages.
This was the crisis that President Zaph was ready to exploit. He opened up his granaries and storehouses to offer food to the Egyptians and even to people who were starving everywhere. And, since he had established complete control of supply, he was able to charge whatever he wanted for the food.
Did anyone complain? Did anyone point out that the food that he was now selling to the people of Egypt at a premium had actually been seized from them over the previous seven years? Did anyone add that it had been taken with the promise that it was being done for their own good and that it would be available for them when bad times came?
Well, there were no reports of anyone raising any of those issues. Was that really because everyone was happy with the situation? Maybe, but the sons of Jacob suspected that it was more like no one was brave enough to object, or maybe even that anyone who did dare to step forward had been eliminated as a lesson to the rest.
The people of Egypt, and indeed of the whole world including the sons of Jacob up north in Canaan were reeling. The change and chaos brought by Zaph’s actions had thrown everyone off balance. People were walking around shell-shocked and hadn’t a clue what to do.
Many assumed that Zaph was just plain evil. Perhaps they would have had some sympathy for him if they had known some of the struggles he had faced in his life.
He had always had a hard time fitting in. He was different – probably on the autism spectrum or neuro-divergent in some other way. His birth family had also treated him horribly, inflicting horrible emotional trauma on him.
So maybe there was more to the story of Zaph and what had made him the man that he was. Whatever the whole story was, though, the devastating effects of everything that he was doing were plain for anyone to see.
The Egyptian people lost everything – not only their life savings, but also their livestock, their ancestral farms and ultimately their own freedom as they literally sold themselves into slavery.
And there was President Zaph sitting upon an ever-increasing mountain of wealth. He said that he was holding it on behalf of the Pharaoh and all people of Egypt, of course. But he was the one who had exclusive control of it. And when it comes to wealth, practical control always trumps theoretical ownership.
The crisis in Egypt quickly became a recession. The Pharaoh responded by raising tariffs on surrounding nations which meant that the economic pain quickly spread beyond the borders. Up north in Canaan, the brothers were suffering. They needed to replenish their stores and they had heard that the only place where there was any surplus was in the granaries that were under control of Zaph.
And so, they pulled together an enormous amount of money and headed down south to deal with the man himself.
It was a horrible experience. First of all, he treated them like criminals, interrogating them endlessly, probing into every detail of their lives and family. Then, just for his own amusement, he just threw them in jail for three days. Finally he let them buy some supplies and return home, but actually kept one of them as a hostage that he said he’d only release to them when they brought back to him their youngest brother, Benjamin, their father’s favourite.
They were terrified by this man, but what choice did they have? They played his game. And then when they returned with Benjamin, Zaph went on to frame him for theft, threatening to take him and make a slave of him.
The brothers were beside themselves. This man was clearly a monster! But now he was not only robbing from the Egyptians and using the stolen goods to play with them. He was about to destroy the life of their baby brother for no reason! And this was not just about Benjamin, if they didn’t bring Ben home, the loss would probably kill their father too.
That was when Judah stepped forward and fell to the ground before the evil oligarch. “Take me, take me instead, O President Zaph. You can ruin my life if you wish, but please, if you have an ounce of humanity in you, let the kid go.”
That was when Zaphnath-Paaneah suddenly ordered all of his Egyptian attendants to leave. This included his Canaanite interpreter who had enabled the entire conversation up until this point. The brothers looked at each other uneasily. For all they knew this madman had just gotten rid of the witnesses and he was about to have them all killed, and their bodies thrown in the Nile! They were going to be annihilated!
But, no sooner had everyone left than a strange look came over Zaph’s face. Then, as the brothers look at each other in utter confusion, the most bizarre thing that had happened yet in this entire story took place. Zaph began to weep uncontrollably.
It was a real ugly cry. The tears flowed down his face like a waterfall. He kept trying to speak but he was sobbing so hard that they couldn’t make anything out even though he amazingly seemed to be trying to speak their own Canaanite dialect.
This went on for several very embarrassing minutes until Zaph finally caught his breath. When they finally caught what he had been trying to say, they completely understood why it had taken them so long. It was literally unbelievable.
“Judah, it’s me. It’s Joseph. Remember, the brother that it was your brilliant idea to sell into slavery for 20 pieces of silver? Is… is my father really still alive?”
That was about all he managed to get out before he turned and hugged his brother Benjamin like a man who had never before been hugged in his entire life.
That was when the fear of the brothers turned into utter panic.
We have a certain tendency in the church to skip over some of the really troubling parts of the story and rush to the happy ending. I think that might be one reason why people sometimes think that the Bible is irrelevant to modern life. We give people this impression that it only says that all is well and that God is obviously in control and making everything well. Meanwhile, people are living in a world where things go very wrong all the time.
Well, the story of Joseph is a story that is very much set in the real world. To just reduce it to a happy ending (which our reading selection from the Lectionary would have us do) is to totally miss all of that. For one thing, we skip over the terrible trauma that Joseph goes through. It starts with him being rejected, beaten and sold into slavery by his own family and gets worse from there.
But more interesting to me today is how we skip over the trauma that was inflicted on Egypt and the world because of the trauma that Joseph had suffered. The story I just told you about what I call the disruption of Egypt is absolutely there in the Book of Genesis and it is the story of people who had their whole world systematically dismantled.
Of course, the story in Genesis is told from the point of view of Joseph who seems to be confident that he is doing the right thing for the people of Egypt.
But let me tell you something. Anyone looking from the outside on the actions of the man given the name Zaphnath-Paaneah by the Pharaoh would have seen it much like I have described. He disrupted every system and norm of the Egyptian state leaving fear, destruction and chaos in his wake. And everyone was terrified at where all of this might lead – even Canaanites looking on from the North.
Does any of that sound familiar? Does any of it sound relevant to the kinds of things we see going on in our world today? I’m afraid it does. And I talk to many people who are reeling these days as so many of our assumptions about how the world is supposed to work are thrown into chaos.
Well, I wanted to tell you this story to let you know that, if you are feeling like that, you are not alone. The people of Egypt experienced it in biblical times and so did their appalled neighbours to the north.
So, the Bible understands what you may be feeling. But I suspect you may be looking for more than just understanding today. The big question for today is what do we do when the world falls apart like that. The big question is where do we find hope.
Joseph stared at his brothers; his brothers stared at him. It was a remarkable moment. The sons of Jacob had spent the last nine years seeing this man in front of them only as President Zaph – their enemy who had been put on earth merely to torment them.
And now, they were being forced in a moment to see him a completely different light. They were forced to see how they were connected to him. Indeed, they were all part of the same dysfunctional family and had even played their own part in making him the flawed person that he was.
I wish I could tell you that that recognition of their connection suddenly made everything alright. The damage that Zaph had done still remained. The Egyptians were still destitute and enslaved. The whole world was in an economic mess that was causing untold misery. There are no easy fixes once the oligarchs take over and plunder everything of value.
But perhaps if this story can teach us anything, it is that we are more connected than we usually realize. The objects of our hatred and scorn – the ones who seem to be ruining our lives are our own family.
That means, for one thing, that we have a voice. We can speak up against the systems at work that are robbing people of their autonomy and freedom. It also means that we can have compassion for those who are plundering the world – to understand that they are only trying to fill an aching void within them that can never be filled by all the wealth in the world (as some of our wealthiest billionaires are definitely demonstrating to us these days).
Compassion doesn’t mean we don’t oppose them, of course, but it does recognize that healing can only come when we find the common humanity of all.
Joseph wept inconsolably on the neck of his little brother Benjamin who reached up and placed his hand on Joseph’s head.
“You are my brother and I love you,” he said. “You’ve made a terrible mess, but I love you.”
In the Gospel of Matthew, the beatitudes of Jesus – that famous list of those who are blessed – are delivered from a mountaintop. That is why we call it the Sermon on the Mount. Mountains represent hierarchy – the idea that some things are naturally higher than and rule over others. In Matthew the beatitudes are literally a teaching that is handed down from on high.
I find it interesting that, when the same teaching is featured in the Gospel of Luke, the setting is so strikingly different. There Jesus delivers the beatitudes “on a level place.” Rather than looking down upon his disciples, Luke says that he looked up at them.
Surely this represents a different perspective on this very important teaching of Jesus. It is given in a setting where everyone is on the same level. Everyone, at least in Jesus’ eyes, is equal. And that perspective definitely changes the meaning of Jesus’ words, doesn’t it?
For one thing, it means that Jesus’ words are no longer directed only to certain people in the crowd – those he sees as particularly worthy of blessing. He must also address the others.
And I would like to reflect on one of those teachings today. I would like to imagine it not only reverberating across the people standing in that level place, but also to imagine these words echoing down through the centuries until today. I wonder how people might hear them in our times.
That teaching is this: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” Or, as it is put in the Good News Bible, “you have had your easy life!”
Imagine, for example, those words echoing down all the way to the pulpits of certain modern preachers. There are a number of them who, in our times, preach something called the “Prosperity Gospel.” Their message is fairly simple, and often quite persuasive.
If you listen to their messages, they will inform you that God wants you to be wealthy, like really wealthy. And they will promise you that, if you only live out the Christian Life in the way they tell you, which almost always includes committing to send them significant amounts of money, God will make you extremely rich.
These Prosperity Gospel preachers are always an excellent example to their flock as they demonstrate how to live a lavish lifestyle replete with mansions, private jets and expensive parties. Oh yes, they show you how to be wealthy.
This way of understanding the gospel is not just wishful thinking or something that they made up. There are definitely passages in the Bible that seem to proclaim a sort of Prosperity Gospel. The Psalm that we read this morning is a perfect example.
The psalmist describes righteous people like this: “They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.” You see, it is right there. If you are righteous, if you are someone who always does the right thing, prosperity is guaranteed.
It is a lovely thought, of course. Imagine living in a world where everyone who did the right thing was always generously rewarded. But here is the thing. It is not always easy to judge someone’s righteousness or right action. But it is pretty easy to see who is really prosperous and who is not.
That’s why this teaching of the Bible often gets turned on its head. We look around and see all the extremely wealthy people and conclude that, if they are rich, God must have blessed them. And if God blessed them, it must be because they are righteous. The other side of that coin, of course, is that, if people are poor, it must be because they are bad. They must deserve it.
This is an assumption that it is so easy to fall into in our world. And the preachers of the Prosperity Gospel take advantage of that easy assumption. But anyone who pauses and reflects has to realize that things simply don’t work that way. There are also lots of Bible passages that complain about the evil who prosper and the righteous who are mistreated.
So, perhaps when these words of Jesus come echoing down through the centuries till today, we need to allow them to challenge the ways we think about the rich and just how worthy they really are to enjoy their prosperity. Perhaps we need to allow them to challenge the easy judgments we make of those who are in the ranks of the poor.
But the preachers are not the only ones who need to be challenged by these words of Jesus. Let’s imagine, for a moment, them carrying all the way to a scene that famously took place about a month ago. On that day, three people were gathered in one place who were the richest people in the entire world. Their names were, in order, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg.
But let me be a bit more precise. They were not just the three richest people in the world at that moment. They are the three richest people who have ever existed in the entire history of the world. More wealth was concentrated in that one spot than has ever been extracted from the global economy before. And it is wealth that every single one of us has contributed to because you actually cannot function in the modern world without using the various services that have made them so wealthy.
Now, was Jesus speaking to them when he said, “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation”? He absolutely was. Sure, nobody in the crowd that day would have been able to imagine that such people could ever possibly exist. But there is no better example of what Jesus was really talking about.
So, what would they think if those words came to them? I suspect that they would find them hilarious. I think that they would especially laugh at the part where Jesus says to them, “you have received your consolation.” That implies, doesn’t it, that they have enough – that they don’t need anything more.
And let me tell you something. There is no group that is less satisfied with what they have than multi-billionaires. Every so often you will hear someone argue that billionaires make the best leaders because they already have what they need and so they won’t be tempted to engage in corruption or self-serving.
That may sound reasonable. It is true that billionaires have so much money that they could never possibly spend it on themselves or their loved ones (if they have them) in several lifetimes. But it is actually only the very rare billionaire who ever decides that they have enough.
This is something that is absolutely undeniable as we see over the last few decades that all of the people who have billions have constantly managed to amass more and more. They have clearly decided that they have not yet received their consolation.
So, how would those billionaires react if they heard these words of Jesus echoing down to them. I think that I can hear them laughing from here.
But there is another reason why they would laugh. This saying is contrasted in the Gospel with Jesus’ opening beatitude. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” So, Jesus has just promised the poor a kingdom and now goes on to say that the rich have already received as much as is coming to them. In other words, no kingdom for them!
Now, what kind of kingdom Jesus means when he says “the kingdom of God” is obviously a big question that we’ll come back to. But whatever this kingdom looks like, he is definitely saying that the poor get to rule over something.
And would our modern multi-billionaires laugh at that? You bet they would. I’m not sure we’ve all come to terms with this yet, but we are actually increasingly living in a world where the extremely wealthy have pretty much taken over.
And yes, I know, you will say to me that our democratic systems of government are still in place and so the oligarchs are technically not in control. But the wealthy have such control over everything that keeps our democracy running that it doesn’t seem to matter very much. When, for example, they control almost all of our primary modes of communication, do they not also control most of the levers that flip our democracy one way or the other?
They have taken over the kingdom of this world and they don’t seem to be hesitating to use their position to build up their wealth and power even further. I kind of suspect that Elon Musk might take over the entire U.S. Treasury at some point if he hasn’t already. And the world is not stopping them. It seems to have declared, “You who are rich are obviously blessed, so why don’t you just take over everything and we’ll hope for the best.”
That is the simple truth, these words of Jesus would be met with nothing but mockery and derision from the wealthy of our world if they were spoken today. And so it also was when Jesus first said them.
So, why did he say it? He was obviously not offering a commentary on how the world actually works, because it doesn’t work that way. It never has. It is clear that he was offering a picture of an entirely different system – a picture of the way that the world should work, rather than a pragmatic picture of how it does work. That is what he means when he talks about the kingdom of God.
I know that we often speak about the kingdom of God as something that is only achieved in another world – a place we go only after we die. I understand where that kind of thinking comes from. The picture of a world where the extremely rich are satisfied and not in the process of taking over that Jesus presents here seems so impossible that we are often left thinking that the kingdom of God must be a literal pie in the sky idea.
But Jesus wasn’t talking about what might happen in heaven one day. He was talking about here and now. He said “Blessed are you who are poor, For yours is the kingdom of God.” And he spoke of the consolation of the rich as something that was over and done with.
So what do we do with that? Because I am not ready to say that Jesus was just delusional and had no understanding of what he was talking about. I hope you aren’t either.
Jesus was proclaiming that the world’s system and much of its functioning was corrupt. But when he spoke about the kingdom of God, what he was promising you and me was that we don’t have to live according to that system. We, by choosing to follow him, could opt out of this world’s system and choose to live in an alternate system – this thing that he called the kingdom of God.
And living in the reality of the kingdom of God is not just living in denial of how the world really works. It makes a practical difference. It is a difference that is to begin here, in the church, where we are called to live into the reality that, as Paul wrote, “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” He also could have added that there is no rich or poor, no oligarch and no powerless people in the thrall of oligarchs.
It starts here where we demonstrate to the world that things can actually operate according to a different system. And it extends from here as we reach out into the community to treat all people, no matter who they are – no matter if they are poor or immigrants or minorities or people who don’t fit into the traditional roles of society – as people who are more valuable in themselves than the richest billionaire is according to this world’s measure.
And if we do it right, o my family in Christ, if we do it right, we will shake the wealthy in the very halls of their power. It is, to be fair for a moment, something that the church has rarely gotten right in its long history, but the potential is there. That potential was what Jesus was talking about when he stood and shared blessings and woes on that level place.
Hespeler, February 9, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Isaiah 6:1-13, Psalm 138, 1 Corinthians 15:1-11, Luke 5:1-11
There I was, minding my own business. It was early in the morning and my partners and I had been out on the lake all night. We had worked our fingers to the bone casting and pulling in our nets just like we had been doing for years. Just like our fathers before us had also done, and their fathers, and their fathers for as long as anybody could remember.
We hadn’t caught anything on this night. Not that we necessarily minded. There was just something about being out there with our nets in our boats on the water that reminded us of good times past and stirred up many happy memories.
And now, as the sun rose upon the horizon, we had one job left to do before turning in for the day. We pulled our boats up on the shore and we took out our nets.
And let me tell you something about our nets. We took great pride in them. These nets had been in our families for generations. But, as old as they were, they didn’t show it. We took such extraordinary care of them that, at the first sight of any sort of rip or tear, we carefully replaced and mended each cord.
Over the years, most every strand had probably been replaced at least once. But despite that, we knew that they were still the same nets. Somehow there was this indescribable essence to them that had not changed. We were bound and determined that it never would.
And so, at the end of the night we drew each net up and carefully washed each portion of it. We removed every scrap of seaweed and debris that might cause the fabric to smell, decay or discolour. It was a ritual for us, and a pleasing way to end our night of hard labour.
At first, we barely noticed when the crowd began to form near the seashore. They were gathering around a man, an itinerant preacher who had come to town. He was telling them stories.
I’ll be honest. He was pretty good at it; he definitely held their attention. But they were mostly stories about things that didn’t concern fisher folk like us – stories of sowing seeds and farming and such. What did we care about such things? Our job is not to make things grow. We just go out to take what we need to survive.
So we were doing our best to tune him out as he went on and on. But the crowd kept on growing until there were so many people that many of them on the edges couldn’t hear him. That is when he came over to me.
“Hey, friend,” he said, “would it be alright if I got in your boat and we pushed out a little bit so that the people could hear better?” I was honestly a bit surprised that this guy, who I’d heard was just a tekton, an unskilled construction labourer, was even aware of something that all fishers know – that a voice carries much better over the water than the land. He wouldn’t have learned that on his building sites.
I shrugged. Sure, that was something that I could do, but something in me wanted to make sure that he knew where my priorities lay in this whole situation. “Okay, I guess,” I said. “I can clean my nets just as well from the stern of my boat as on the shore.”
So we climbed in and I pushed off. Once we were a few yards from the shoreline, he nodded to me and I threw out the anchor stone and went back to my work. As he continued to speak, it was a little harder now to tune him out. He was just beside me. So, even as I continued to concentrate on my very important nets, I couldn’t help but be moved a bit as he spoke of a kingdom of God that was growing and spreading.
Eventually both his voice and the people had had enough. I looked over at him, expecting that he would ask me to put him ashore. But, to my surprise, he said to me, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”
Now, here’s the thing. We had been out all night fishing. Sure, we hadn’t gone out in the deep water. We had remained in the shallows because we didn’t like to try anything too dangerous or unfamiliar.
Our families had been fishing in this way – in the safe shallows at night – for generations. And I couldn’t help but feel a bit resentful that this tekton, this unskilled worker in stone and wood, was presuming to teach us how to fish. Sure, our approach hadn’t us netted us any fish this night – indeed it often didn’t – but it was how we had always done things.
So I started to say so. “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” But, even as those words came out of my mouth, they didn’t quite seem like the rebuke that they were in my mind. Hadn’t I just admitted that our traditional approach was actually getting zero results?
And so I guess I kind of tricked myself into what I said next. “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” Rather than arguing with him, it seemed better to just demonstrate that his approach wasn't going to work . That is why I am almost embarrassed to tell you what happened next. No sooner did we get to the deep water and cast the nets than we began to haul them up bursting full of fish.
Now, you might think that me and my mates would have been thrilled at such an outcome. And for a few moments, perhaps we were. But then we realized the real downside of such success. Our precious nets – these family heirlooms that we had so lovingly cleaned and cared for for so long – immediately began to tear at the weight of all the fish.
Then, as we just barely managed to haul the nets back on board, we soon discovered that the bottoms of our boats were so filled with squirming and flopping fish that they began to swamp and sink.
Our most precious possessions were at risk! This was not acceptable! I had to make it stop! I turned to the man whose fault all of this was. I fell down at his knees and cried out, “Get out of here, Lord! I am a sinful man, I’m not equipped to handle this kind of success!”
The story of the great catch of fish in the Gospel of Luke is not about fish. I mean, maybe that is something that is absolutely obvious to you. After all, Jesus himself says as much at the end of the story. But I really think that it is important that we understand that here today.
This story is not about something that happened by the side of the lake in the town of Capernaum. It is absolutely about us and it is about today. And who are we in this story? We are clearly Simon and his team.
And what do the nets and the boats that the fishers inherited from their ancestors in this story represent? They are the church buildings and items and traditions that we have inherited from our spiritual ancestors. We, like they, can get pretty obsessed with making sure that they are clean and well taken care of, can’t we?
So, we are the fishers. The nets and the boats, they are our church buildings and traditions, right? And what about the complaint of Simon? “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” Well, that is totally our complaint isn’t it? I hear Presbyterian congregations all the time complaining about how they work so hard to keep their boat floating and their nets clean.
And they absolutely do. Many seem to be wearing themselves out just trying to keep things afloat. And they also complain that they aren’t catching any fish, that new people aren’t showing up in their churches. I hear both of those things all the time.
But here is when it all gets interesting. Our complaint is usually that there aren’t any fish out there. No one is interested in what we have to offer and so we wear ourselves out just keeping things going.
But notice that Simon at no point says that there aren’t any fish out in the Sea of Galilee. What he says is that they have been out there fishing in the way that they have always done it, and they caught nothing. And I think that is usually what we are really saying as well.
Can you hear Jesus challenging us therefore? Could it be that the reason why we aren’t catching any fish isn’t because there are no fish out there? Could it be that the way you have always done it – at particular hours and in the safe and comfortable shallows among other things – just isn’t connecting with any of those fish anymore. It is something to ponder.
But the truly shocking thing about this story is the surprising way that Simon reacts to success. He does give in and agree to try something new and a bit different even if it is only because Jesus says so. (Sometimes I think that is what it would take to get us to try something different in some of our churches too – we’d have to hear the voice of Jesus from heaven.) And Simon and company actually see the success that has eluded them for so long. But what happens next?
Do they exult in their catch? Do they immediately start celebrating? No, all we hear is how concerned they are for their precious nets which start to tear and their boats which start to sink. And it is in the shadow of those emerging problems associated with successful fishing that Simon falls on his knees and tells Jesus to get away from them.
We don’t do that, do we? We all say that our fondest desire is to have more people in our churches. I hear it all the time. But here is the problem with that. The new fish that are going to come into our churches these days are not going to come from the shallow waters. They are not going to come from the same demographic and socio-economic and ethnic pools that they came from in previous generations.
They are going to come from the deep water these days because, frankly, the shallow waters are fished out. And that is a wonderful thing. It is wonderful in so many ways to see our churches diversifying in our time. It feels like a fulfillment of God’s promises.
But, there is an issue that arises in that. To reach and incorporate such people means change. And that often creates a reaction. Our church isn’t the same anymore. We miss the way things used to be. We complain about our buildings being noisy or dirty and how sometimes things get broken because people are actually using the facilities. Our refrain becomes, “Our nets are ripping and our boats are sinking!”
And so, like Simon, we may be tempted to send Jesus away with his fancy new ideas about how to carry out our mission. “Get away from us lord so that we can go back to puttering around in the shallow waters and keeping our nets nice and clean by never catching anything in them.”
No, this story isn’t about fishing on the Sea of Galilee. It is a story about us. But I hope you don’t hear it as a rebuke of us. It is a story of hope.
Are we like the disciples of Jesus? Absolutely. We, like they, often get things wrong. But Jesus got into their boat. And the word of God was spoken from their boat – not because they had all the answers and everything figured out but because they didn’t. And when Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people, “ he said it immediately after Simon confessed that he didn’t know what he was doing.
Jesus will transform us as disciples as well. And he only asks for one thing: everything. “When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Notice how they immediately walked away from the only things that they showed care for throughout this whole story: their nets and their boats.
Well, once we realize that catching people with the good news of the gospel in word and in deed is more important than our nets and our boats, we will be amazed at what Jesus will do among us as well.
Hespeler, February 2, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
Jeremiah 1:4-10, Psalm 71:1-6, 1 Corinthians 13:1-13, Luke 4:21-30
When you have been a minister as long as I have been a minister, you will find that the passage we read from 1 Corinthians this morning becomes an old friend. When I perform a wedding, I usually ask the couple to choose which Bible passages we will read and then I use those texts to talk about that couple and what has brought them together.
But it’s not. Sure, it contains wonderful teachings about the kind of love that can help to sustain an excellent marriage. But Paul did not include this as something for the church in Corinth to read at their weddings or to use in their marriage counselling.
In fact, married couples were about the furthest thing from his mind. Earlier in this same letter (Chapter 7), Paul actually tells them that he would rather they didn’t get married at all, though he understands if they do.
So, what is he talking about? He is talking about the whole congregation at Corinth and how they need to treat each other because apparently they have not been getting on very well.
So let’s step back and take a good look at what was going on in the church in Corinth that made Paul feel that, in order to find their way forward, they needed to receive what is arguably the best teaching on the nature of true love that has ever been written?
Well, part of it had to do with the fact that they were not very united. In fact, in many ways they behaved like they were several separate congregations often disagreeing with one another rather than what Paul would call the one body of Christ.
This was not necessarily their fault. I think it is important to understand that. In many ways, their history had set them up to be at odds with each other. They had essentially been founded as a bunch of different congregations.
Paul had passed through Corinth and formed and instructed one congregation. Then sometime later a man named Cephas (who might be the Apostle Peter) had come along and gathered a different group and taught them somewhat differently. And then another founder named Apollos had come along.
Now, to a certain extent this is something that you will find in any congregation that has been around for a while. Various people will have come to the church or lived through their most formative years during the tenure of different ministers. And they tend to conclude that the way that “their” minister did things was the right way.
And so most ministers do get used to dealing with cries of “We never did things that way in Jeff’s time,” or “in Kevin’s day” or “in the time of Wally.”
But things were much more disorderly in Corinth where there had been a quick succession of founders over a very short period of time. They were still very much separate congregations who were having a hard time getting on the same page.
And now you are perhaps starting to understand why I chose to preach on this particular passage today. Two weeks ago, St. Andrew’s Hespeler and Knox Preston came together to become one congregation. And it has been wonderful to see how everyone has been willing to approach this with a good will and with open hearts. I know that you made your promises and vows in such a spirit.
But good will doesn’t just erase two separate past histories. It doesn’t just erase expectations that have been built up by past experience. For that reason, I think we ought to be ready for some difficult issues to arise in times to come. That’s why I want to affirm to you today that this passage we read this morning wasn’t just written for the church in Corinth. It was written for us.
Now, the struggles that the Corinthians had are not necessarily the same ones that we will face. Paul lists some of the things that were dividing them at the beginning of our reading. Some of them were speaking in strange languages, some thought that they had a power that allowed them to speak for God. Some of them demonstrated great faith and others thought that they had so much to give that they boasted about it all the time.
Paul actually mocks the attitude of these people by speaking in exaggerated terms about what they thought made them so great. He talks of people who “speak in the tongues of humans and of angels” and who have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge.” He talks about those who “have all faith so as to remove mountains,” and of people giving away all possessions and even handing over their bodies!
Were people in Corinth doing all of that? Well, not exactly. They were engaging in ecstatic speech (probably like you might see in some Pentecostal churches today) but studies have shown that such speech is never actually any identifiable human (much less angelic) language.
None of them were actually moving mountains (that would be a major geological event that we would still find traces of today). No one has ever understood everything. And obviously none of them who were still part of the church had given up their bodies.
Paul is making a fine point here. He is talking about things that they were doing that were good things. They were meaningful parts of their spiritual lives. But Paul is criticizing them because they made them greater than they were. They made them into things of ultimate importance. That was where the problem lay.
Now, as I say, I don’t think that we will have divisions over the specific things that divided the church in Corinth. But I do expect that we have divisions over things that are meaningful to people in their Christian life and practice – good things and legitimate parts of spiritual practice but that we turn into conflicts because we give them ultimate importance.
We have actually already named some of these easily identifiable friction points in our discussions together up to this point. There is a recognition that we all find worship space to be a significant and positive part of our spiritual lives. The folks at Preston have all had to come to terms with the loss of a worship space that meant so much to them for a very long time.
But they shouldn’t be the only ones. We at St. Andrew’s also need to recognize that this new relationship will bring changes to our space and we haven’t even begun to process that. Part of that is, of course, finding places and ways that we can honour some significant items that the Preston people have brought with them, but I suggest that, as time goes on, we will discover other changes to our space that might prove more challenging.
Our love of our space is a good thing, and, for that reason, we don’t like to see changes. But the point is that we can manage such change so long as we don’t make the mistake they were making in Corinth and see this good thing as a thing of ultimate importance.
Some of the other obvious friction points that we have identified include time of worship, congregational names, the Lord’s prayer. Each congregation has different traditions and of course there is absolutely nothing wrong with loving those traditions. It is the temptation to make them have ultimate importance that is the source of possible division.
But, as I say, these are just the obvious ones. There is no doubt that, at some point, we will run into some difference that will take us completely by surprise. Something will change because of this new relationship we have formed, and somebody will see that change as a bridge too far. We will see conflict. I can almost guarantee it because it is almost inevitable.
So the Apostle Paul speaks to us, his voice echoing down through the centuries. He is teaching us how to deal with that kind of friction when it arises. He teaches us that the answer is that whenever we start to invest good things and meaningful practices with ultimate importance causing conflict, we need to realize that there is one thing that is more important than any of them. And that one thing is love.
So, when Paul starts to describe the nature of love, you shouldn’t be imagining a young married couple. You need to be imagining yourself dealing with other Christians in your church.
When he writes “Love is patient,” you need to be telling yourself to be patient with your brother in Christ who is having a hard time letting go of something that has been meaningful to him. When he says that “love is kind,” you need to be practicing kindness in all things with your sister in Christ.
When Paul says, “love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude,” you need to be examining your own conduct in the church and asking yourself when you have given into such attitudes.
And when he says that love “does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs,” you definitely need to be asking yourself when you have behaved like that. If you have insisted on getting your way even when it hurts another, you have not been practicing love.
How can we do that? How can we decide to let go of things that have been meaningful and significant to us because we decide to love? I think that Paul teaches us something about that.
“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.” He teaches us. “When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see only a reflection, as in a mirror, but then we will see face to face.”
How do we come to the place where we decide that our love for our fellow Christians is more important than some practice or place or name that has always been meaningful to us? We can do that because we recognize that our understanding of such things is never complete. We don’t have all the answers. We don’t have it all figured out.
The things that have mattered to us have not mattered because they are necessarily the best for all times. Frankly, our forebearers in the faith probably just made a lot of them up along the way. And then they became traditions. Then we started to invest them with ultimate value. And then we couldn’t let go of them because they meant too much.
But if we can always remember that, at best, we only know in part, we can be willing to step back and give some space to what someone else has known because we have committed ourselves to love them.
Whatever practices of the Christian faith that we have had, they will not last forever. Our church buildings will all one day be reduced to dust, their names will be forgotten. That one thing that we thought was of ultimate importance and we refused to give it up, it will be gone.
Paul is clear, none of those things will endure. In fact, only three things in our congregation will last forever: faith, hope and love. And need I remind you that the greatest of these is love, so any of us can let go of anything in the life of the church if we do it for love.