Matthew 2: 1-12 - Epiphany Sunday, January 4, 2026

 Although we included them in our Christmas Eve service, the Magi – the wise visitors from the east– get their own festival, which we celebrate today. It’s the ancient festival of the Epiphany, reckoned by the Catholic News Agency to be an older celebration than Christmas itself.  

Carols like We Three Kings and The First Nowell assume that there were three Magi who made the journey to Bethlehem, but Matthew’s gospel story does not actually tell us how many Magi there were, only that they brought three gifts with them.  In the Eastern Christian tradition, there are no fewer than twelve magi! Since it’s quite a fanciful story, I think that it’s safe to assume that much of what we are reading here is allegorical, illustrating broader truths about the relationship between Jesus and those who seek him, and taken in that way (a) there’s not much value in getting bent out of shape about the details and (b) since a well-told story can be basically ageless, the account of the Magi still has a LOT to teach us as we engage the next aspects of the Intentional Interim work that is before us in 2026.

According to Matthew, the physical gifts of the Magi were Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh.  The Biblical Archaeology Society says that Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh “were standard gifts to honor a king or deity in the ancient world: gold as a precious metal, frankincense as perfume or incense, and myrrh as anointing oil…. In addition to the honor and status implied by the value of the gifts of the magi, scholars think that these three were chosen for their special spiritual symbolism about Jesus himself—gold representing his kingship, frankincense a symbol of his priestly role, and myrrh a prefiguring of his death and embalming.”  These first three gifts, we might call “gifts of our sacred heritage.”

But much in the same way that Shannon led off our twenty-two month Interim Ministry journey by outlining some of the things we might need to bring in our backpack (signified in an ongoing way by the hiking pole at the front of the sanctuary), we realize that the Magi would have needed more than just the gifts they were bringing the newborn King - gold, frankincense and myrrh.  They would, of course, need all the practical things one needs to survive a journey in the Middle East, and they would have been experts at that.  Given the religious and political nature of their journey, they would have needed other qualities as well, such as wisdom, curiosity, humility, and adaptability, and we expect that God gave them these gifts in abundance.  Let’s imagine these, one by one.

We start with the gift of WISDOM. We aren’t 100% sure if the Magi were astrologers or astronomers or Zoroastrian priests, but one way or another, they were well versed in their own spiritual/religious tradition.  They had studied and trained and had an innate spiritual wisdom that helped them recognize when they were being called into the sacred unknown.  The way that Matthew crafts their story indicates that they also had more worldly kinds of wisdom; that is, they were wise enough to seek the permission of King Herod, in order to stay on his good side, and in their discussion with him they sussed out whether or not his interest in the location of the Christ Child was authentic. (It was not).

One of our assumptions, as your ministers, is that each of you brings wisdom.  You have inner wisdom, beliefs, a history with this congregation and knowledge of how things work here in the south Okanagan.  You also bring, as we have found in our first sixteen months here, an openness to both share your wisdom and have it shaped by the wisdom of others. While Shannon and I bring our training and experience, your knowledge, wisdom, and ability to read local trends is crucial to the future shape of this congregation.

Next, is the gift of CURIOSITY: it’s clear to me that these experts in their own faith were curious to explore the world of their neighbours.  Matthew talks about the Magi being led by a star to honour Judea’s newborn king but honestly, that doesn’t strike me as sufficient reason to leave home.  But a healthy curiosity about what’s going on in that neighbouring land, and its political realities, well, that would get me to load up the camel caravan and see what happens.

I want to stay with the gift of curiosity for a bit, for it’s a biggie. 2025 was a year that, in my opinion, did quite a bit to stifle curiosity, for even saying some things out loud seemed to box you in to one camp or another.  And yet, a healthy curiosity about how other people see things is going to be crucial if the world is going to actually move forward in just and humane ways.  Here in the south Okanagan, for example, there is lots for us to be curious about: we have a significant Sikh population, as well as a huge number of people who would describe themselves as either “spiritual but not religious” or, “neither spiritual nor religious.”  We also have a much larger homeless or precariously housed population than we might imagine. Could we find new paths of service and healing, if curiosity could lead us to learn more about these neighbours?  Or, looking at it in a very different way, how would it change us if neighbours who don’t know US very well, wandered in to get a sense of what happens here?  Might those interactions reshape our approach and priorities? The curiosity that spurred the Magi toward respectful engagement of “the other” helped break down barriers; traditionally, the Magi are understood as the first Gentiles or non-Jews to encounter Jesus and as such, the forebears of most Christian Churches today.  A desire to be curious rather than having fixed opinions – and fixed ideas of who’s welcome - could change so much in our communities and our world.  

The next gift I imagine is HUMILITY. Kendall Batten-Kalantzis is a Christian Chaplain now living in Denver, who has extensive experience in elder care and also with L’Arche communities. Considering the 2^nd chapter of Matthew, she wonders if the wise men felt foolish as they handed over a rare ointment when that which the poor holy family needed most of all was proper accommodations.  Kendall continues: “I think the greatest parallel between [our journeys] and the journey of the magi is discovering the deep mystery of God present in the most unexpected way, in the lives of the most vulnerable.”  Much like the gift of curiosity, humility opens us not only to what we do know, but what we don’t know.  Humility gives us the freedom to make mistakes, to perceive what’s missing in our own knowledge or our own practice, to admit that we have much to learn.  As we continue to take steps toward our Anglican neighbours in Oliver, as we imagine what mission might be served by the Osoyoos Church and the undeveloped piece of property behind it, we are sure to make some flubs, but they must not stop us from trying new things. Amidst such uncertainty, a little humility, to help put things in their proper perspective, goes a long way.

And finally, I cannot imagine the journey of the Magi without ADAPTABILITY.  As I mentioned earlier, we know that the Magi were wise: I mean, when I was growing up we never used the term Magi, it was always “the wise men”. These travelers were knowledgeable, savvy, and open to learning.  When they met with King Herod, it seems that they sensed his evil intent, and their hunches were confirmed by God. Matthew 2, verse 12 states, “having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.”  Herod wanted a report back, but the Magi changed course, for God was committed to getting them back home, safely, without exposing the vulnerable family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph to further danger.  The Magi did not just follow known and predictable steps back home, they were open to have fresh information change their route.  (And as an aside: were there alternate safe routes home, or were the Magi needing to take new risks to avoid the wrath of Herod??)  That adaptability, which got us through the pandemic five-nearly-six years ago, and which helped our forebears in Oliver and Osoyoos keep on keeping on as Church even when resources were meagre, will continue to get a workout as we work toward our Interim goals.

There’s no question about it: 2026 is going to be a big year for the Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.  With the guidance of the Transition Team in Osoyoos and Oliver, the Joint Anglican-United Exploration Team in Oliver, the support of our Pacific Mountain Region and whatever Shannon and I are able to bring, you will be discerning the path to which God is calling you, and that is going to take all these gifts that equipped the Magi.  Perhaps not so much Myrrh and Frankincense, though gold would be nice - but the rest of them, Wisdom, Curiosity, Humility and Adaptability, are all going to be crucial.  The gifts we need for our journey are gifts that the world needs us to have, to find God’s future for these communities of faith, a future in which we relate to one another and the communities around us with the love that God has placed within each person, a love bound together in service by Christ our Lord.

Friends: even amidst uncertainty, enjoy the journey.  Enjoy one another’s company.  Enjoy the new friends you meet along the way.  Enjoy the new things we learn.  And enjoy the presence of Christ, and the fullness of God’s love.  Amen.  

References cited:

Batten-Kalantzis, Kendall. https://larchechicago.org/about-larche/news/larche-and-the-journey-of-the-magi/

Biblical Archaeology Society. https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/jesus-historical-jesus/why-did-the-magi-bring-gold-frankincense-and-myrrh/

Olivares, Carlos. https://adventistreview.org/magazine-article/two-or-three-or-12-wise-men/

 

© 2025/2026, Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.

 

Matthew 1: 18-25 - Sunday, December 21, 2025 - Advent IV

 

Pastor Chelsea Harmon, from the Reformed Church congregation in Langley, writes “In other years, [on the 4^th Sunday of Advent] we hear the stories about Mary and Elizabeth saying yes to God; this year we hear about how Joseph said yes, learned a new measure of righteousness, and how his obedience supported another’s calling.”  Indeed, while most years this is Mary’s Sunday, in this year’s lectionary Joseph steps out of the shadows.  (Spoiler alert: in part because of this, Mary comes back to centre stage in this year’s Christmas Eve service!!)

Although the holy family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph is held in high esteem, the Bible tells us little about Joseph, and that has left us yearning for more. Countless generations have wanted to know more about him: his life’s story, his relationship with God, and how he received the news of a completely unexpected pregnancy.  And while the whole notion of virgin birth may stretch our 21^st century sensibilities, this is one of many places in the Bible where there is so much to learn by entering into the world of this story as it unfolds before us, to be curious rather than dismissive of the interactions between the characters in the story and their gracious, eternal God. However we take it, this story of the birth of Immanuel, God-with-Us, speaks of the intimacy God desires with us, and the role that common folk can play in making that divine intimacy embodied and real.

Given how little the Bible tells us about Joseph, it comes as no surprise that traditions have sprung up over the ages to fil the information gap. One tradition, is that Mary and Joseph had known each other for a long time, both growing up at Nazareth in Galilee.  Imagine the level of shame and betrayal that this Joseph would have experienced, at hearing that his betrothed, Mary, was with child.  They would have been the talk of the town, with all the intersections between families in a small town like Nazareth, and any plans that they or their families had mapped out would have come crashing down just like that.  That Joseph, I imagine, would have been deeply hurt and may have been tempted to use the legal and religious recourse available to him, to punish Mary for what would have felt like a shared future, shattered.

A second tradition, is that Joseph was from Bethlehem.  Not just that his family was from Bethlehem, as per Luke’s account of a census that hailed Jews to their ancestral hometowns, but that Bethlehem was Joseph’s home.  If this is true, picture Joseph not so much as a tradesman with a nicely established business in his hometown of Nazareth, but as a working man from down south, seeking to ply his trade up north in Galilee… following the work, as still happens, particularly if you work in construction or resource extraction. 

While most Bible translations refer to Joseph as a “carpenter,” the Greek word so translated, Tekton, was broader than that: a builder, an architect, a stonemason, a tradesman.  It’s a good thing he didn’t just rely on carpentry, for wood is fairly scarce Galilee, whereas black basalt stone was plentiful, and homes and even furniture tended to be made from that.  As posited by James Fleming, “Joseph would have formed and made nine out of ten projects from stone, either by chiseling or carving the stone or stacking building blocks.”

Further to this notion, in the days of Joseph, up in Galilee, the Romans had some huge construction projects needing lots of workers, both skilled and unskilled.  Is it hard to imagine Joseph heading up there to get work, and finding himself drawn to this small-town girl named Mary?   Not to my mind it isn’t.  And if this version of Joseph were to hear that Mary was expecting, well, what would his response be?  Could be that he knew other couples in the same situation and he’d just roll with it… or since he was basically unknown up there, it could be that it would be much easier to just divorce her, leave town, and head back south to Bethlehem.

A third portrait of Joseph focuses not on where he was from, but when.  This widespread tradition imagines him as much, much, much older than Mary.  In this tradition, we envision an arranged marriage, the local matchmakers finding a solid, thoughtful, respectable man for young Mary.  This Joseph could have been a widower – which smooths out references in the gospels of the siblings of Jesus, for those asserting the perpetual virginity of Mary – and it also explains why only Mary was present at the foot of the cross rather than Mary and Joseph, for Joseph would have died long since. 

And how would this Joseph have taken the news, that his young, betrothed one was with child?  This older Joseph, methinks, may have had the savvy to give it a few days – to listen to what the God-inspired dream was telling him about his young bride – and to step back from revenge.  This older Joseph may be less concerned about what other people would think, though I suspect he would not have been eager to tell his previous family about it.  

As I hear these possible “back-stories” about Joseph, I find myself drawn to doing two things… and then a third thing comes to mind, too.

First, I want to express gratitude to any of these versions of Joseph for holding such compassion for his betrothed, Mary, and for his openness to listen to what God was telling him to do, even at the risk of embarrassment or judgment by his family and neighbours.  The cultural pressures pressing him to divorce Mary would have been strong, and while rarely used, the law did permit that a woman caught in such circumstances could be put to death by stoning,.  And yet, sensing God in the midst of this mess in ways he could not understand, Joseph chose something else.  Whether he was guided by a dream, a holy visitor, or just his conscience, Joseph was inspired by God to choose a different response that would require him to stretch, a lot… and he did.

But after expressing that gratitude for Joseph, I acknowledge with dismay how often stories like this still happen in our world.  Mary then, and hundreds of millions of women now, have little or no agency to actually direct their lives: the thing to happen next in her life is decided by someone else, a man following the rules of patriarchy. Without downplaying the gracious and courageous course of action taken by Joseph, he had the benefit of privilege that Mary did not have and that describes the life of far too many women at this very moment.

In the world of 2025 patriarchy still runs rampant, with some 22 million women in forced marriages where they have no say over their lives, and countless others with limited agency, no voting rights, little access to education, and no pathway to careers.  On top of that, there are nations where the rights of women, which were already behind the rights of men, are being dismantled as patriarchy reasserts itself in the halls of power, in one populist regime after another.  And it’s not just governments; our Abrahamic faiths of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, also have much to answer for in this.  In the story of Joseph we have a ray of hope for those who assert God’s just, equitable ways, but the struggle is real.

And from a very personal standpoint – particularly on this Sunday when we have lit the candle of JOY – I need to say one more thing.  A few weeks ago, I brought forward the words of Bishop T. Garrot Benjamin, Jr., who told us that in order to find God’s purpose for our lives, as individuals and as Churches, we need to identify our passion by “following the tracks of our tears”.  As our grandson, Jamie, has brought smiles and giggles into our lives, I am reminded that ever since I became a father some thirty-seven years ago, I have been moved to tears when I see dads and kids.  It warms my heart when I see dads carrying diaper bags and pushing strollers, dads encouraging and nurturing their children, dads playing with their kids on a playground, dads comforting their children at times of injury or distress.  I celebrate the dads and Granddads who coached baseball with me and the dads, stepdads, uncles and neighbours who helped me many years ago, when I was the Akela to a group of Cubs.  While I primarily think of Joseph as someone who graciously stepped back from making life unlivable for Mary, today I also want to imagine the joy he gained from his choice: he got to experience the joy of parenting the young child Jesus.  While it’s uncertain whether Jesus grew up to be a Tekton like Joseph, it’s not hard to picture Joseph showing his son the tools of the trade, much in the way that my father-in-law, Del, whose skills in stonemasonry, auto mechanics and all manner of tinkering got shared with his children, nephews and neighbour kids.  Thinking of the fresh joy that entered Joseph’s life at saying yes to God truly brings a smile to my face on this Sunday of Joy.

Whether the decision about what to do with Mary’s news was made by Joseph the childhood sweetheart, or Joseph the megaproject worker from out of town, or wise old established Joseph, I am glad he chose as he did. I celebrate the way that his choice enabled Mary not only to live, but to fulfill her calling as the one who would nurture the Christ Child, even as I reject the notion that that Mary’s future should ever have been solely in Joseph’s hands. I long for a world where Mary has complete self-determination, where the choices regarding her life, her future, her safety, are hers to make and hers alone, believing that in the Kin-dom of God power does not follow lines of gender.  And I offer my heartfelt prayer, for all men blessed with the opportunity to be an influence in a child’s life – as a father, stepfather, grandfather, uncle, coach, teacher or activity leader – that they may embrace that with vulnerability, kindness, respect and lots of joy.  May all this be so.  Amen.

References cited or consulted:

https://www.antislavery.org/slavery-today/modern-slavery/

Fleming, James W. – accessed at https://www.christianpost.com/news/jesus-carpenter-or-stonemason.html

Harmon, Chelsea. https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2022-12-12/matthew-118-25-3/

Merritt, Jonathan. https://www.jonathanmerritt.com/article/2020/7/19/how-the-hebrew-bible-dismantles-the-patriarchy

Souvay, Charles. https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08504a.htm

Stroman, Jack. https://www.tallahassee.com/story/life/faith/2017/12/22/what-josephs-role-christmas-story/976519001/

“What about the children?” a 1998 VHS resource of Light of the World Christian Church, Indianapolis, Indiana.

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.

Isaiah 35: 1-10 - Third Sunday of Advent, December 14, 2025

 

It’s been a full month since I’ve been able to bring baseball into a sermon, so I need to correct that.  As many of you know, our son played Little League baseball for ten years and through his involvement in the game, I got active in it as well, and something one learns when coaching ball, is it involves a whole bunch of individual skills, and few children are going to be good at everything. The trick is to keep the athlete developing those things that might not come as easily or naturally, while at the same time praising and further honing the strengths.  As a coach, you hope (a) that the kids enjoy the game and (b) that you’re able to avoid making them disheartened by over-focusing on the things they dislike or find hard, and (c) that you can awaken a sense of striving for more in the player in those things that come easily, to keep building skills and avoid complacency.

I use baseball as the example, but the same thing holds true elsewhere.  In our working lives, there are sure to be favourite tasks things you feel confident in and do skillfully and other things that do not come naturally and are a tough slog.  A healthy job has a balance of easy and difficult, and so does a healthy life. This is very much true in our faith lives as well.

On this Sunday when we light the candle of Love, and prepare to adorn the Christmas tree with angels, we bring to mind that time when Jesus needed to identify the commandment that stood out above all others. (see Matthew 22: 36-40, Mark 12: 28-34, Luke 1-: 25-28) I suspect that when Jesus was asked this, those within earshot of the question hoped that he would name a commandment that they were drawn to and found fairly easy to fulfil.  But Jesus named not one commandment, but two: Love God with your entire being, and Love your Neighbour as yourself.  That two-pronged answer would likely have been sort of good and sort of bad for most people in the crowd, as most would be more inclined to one half of the statement than the other half.  Yes, there would be a few of them who were naturally inclined toward loving God and loving neighbour– like the “five-tool” ballplayer who can do everything well– but for most in the group, their understanding of what was most important in their religious lives would tend to lean toward (a) prayer, devotion and adherence to the traditions, or (b) the sacred insistence on attending to the needs of the impoverished and marginalized as THE most important thing. The embodied example of Jesus’ friends Mary and Martha (Luke 10: 38-42) also comes to mind: Martha, the busy one, mostly attended to people’s needs/love of neighbour, while Mary was mostly drawn more to contemplation and prayer/love of God.

As a denomination, I don’t think I’m stepping out on a limb by saying that “love your neighbour as yourself” is be the aspect of the two-fold great commandment that we United Church folks are more drawn to. It still needs honing, as we are told by those who feel like they are on the outside looking in when it comes to Church life & inclusion in the community in general, calling us to adapt and expand our action and advocacy; but over the years, I have found that most of the congregations I have served were pretty attentive to the practicalities of noticing and addressing need.  Where we, and I personally, could use some additional work, is on the other side of the great commandment: loving God with my whole being, and fully trusting in the everlasting promises of God, promises of life and life beyond life.

Advent is a time for us to give thanks to God, for the gifts of Hope, Peace, Love and Joy, qualities of our Advent candles, each with a practical aspect. But Advent is also a season which imagines a plane beyond that which we see, envisioning the bigger picture of what God is about: the Advent, or beginning, of God’s new realm.  This morning’s reading from the 35^th chapter of Isaiah, written some 750 years before the time of Jesus, reaches into those hopes of holy renewal, using bold images that we can relate to here in the south Okanagan: flowers blooming in the desert, scorched lands bearing springs of water, a safe roadway lifted up for the journey from what is to what is to come.  While the understanding of the afterlife is very different in Judaism than it is in Christianity, Isaiah said to the people of Judah there would be relief of their present woes, relief emanating from the eternal God’s concern that they not remain stranded in an unending cycle of despair.  Much in the way that Jesus coupled love of God and love of neighbour as qualities connecting God’s love for us in the here and now, and the hope God gives for a future we can scarcely imagine, Isaiah endeavoured to bring practical, daily blessing to the people by connecting them to the one Holy God, who cared for them now and was sovereign over all creation, forever.  

A few minutes from now, we will be decorating this tree with angels. The angels you are invited to place on the tree can be placed in memory of those who have died or loved ones who are not nearby now, but we wish they were, or they can represent other forms of longing and yearning in life, where things are falling short of what you hope for.  This, then, is one of those moments when our trust that the faithful departed are in the hand of God, and our actions to love one another in God’s name in the here and now, function as one; placing the angels is a moment where the fullness of time is real, what the Celts might call a “thin place”.  And while I mentioned earlier in this sermon, my sense that we as people of The United Church of Canada are in general more comfortable with showing our love in tangible, practical ways, and somewhat less comfortable with more devotional language about God and our understanding of the eternal realm, our calling is to be both these things, even if we are more drawn to one part than another.  Speaking our love of the Creator, and naming our yearnings to be disciples who love our neighbour as ourselves, are two ways that we live our love as healthy human beings.  And that, to me, is the integrative love that Jesus has always intended: while “the great commandment” started as two separate commandments, we are drawn to understand love of God and love of neighbour as two aspects of the same love.

Written in 2006, the United Church of Canada’s Song of Faith express this faith in the God of the eternal realm who is at the same time, fully invested in our lives.  I quote for you now the final three paragraphs of the Song of Faith, to close today’s sermon.  May these words that reach from earth to heaven and then back again, complete and integrate our understanding of love that unites us with God and neighbour.   And may these words rest upon us and those we love when we place our Advent angels on the tree, a symbolic action expressing God’s love, present and eternal:

We place our hope in God.

We sing of a life beyond life and a future good beyond imagining:

   a new heaven and a new earth, the end of sorrow, pain, and tears,

   Christ’s return and life with God, the making new of all things.

We yearn for the coming of that future,
even while participating in eternal life now.

Divine creation does not cease until all things have found wholeness, union, and integration with the common ground of all being.

As children of the Timeless One, our time-bound lives will find completion   in the all-embracing Creator.

In the meantime, we embrace the present, embodying hope, loving our enemies, caring for the earth, choosing life.

Grateful for God’s loving action, we cannot keep from singing.

Creating and seeking relationship, in awe and trust,

we witness to Holy Mystery who is Wholly Love.  Amen.

 

References cited or consulted:

https://www.baseball-reference.com/bullpen/Five-tool_player
(the five tools are: run, field, throw, hit for average, hit for power)

Carvalho, Corrine. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-advent/commentary-on-isaiah-351-10-7

https://www.desert.org/

https://www.esv.org/Matthew+22:34%E2%80%9340;Mark+12:28%E2%80%9334;Luke+10:25%E2%80%9328/

https://united-church.ca/sites/default/files/song-of-faith.docx

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.

Matthew 3: 1-12 - Second Sunday of Advent, December 7, 2025

 

In this morning’s gospel reading, we have the annual Advent appearance of John the Baptist, the one tasked with announcing the ministry of his cousin, Jesus, and pushing people to reorient their lives toward the Kingdom of God.  Because John shows up every Advent, one of the tasks for preachers is to make sure we’re not saying exactly the same thing year after year.  

So I looked back at what I preached a year ago, and found strong similarities between my initial preaching hunches this year, and where this gospel lesson led me last year.  But rather than calling me away from this angle of approach, to find another way in, I’m going to lift a paragraph from last year’s sermon and say it again on this 2nd Sunday of Advent 2025, the Sunday of Peace: “If we understand peace as a stress-free state of being where everything’s nice and chill, it seems odd to be talking about John the Baptist on the Sunday of Peace.  However, peace – the broad and beautiful Jewish concept of shalom - is so much more than that.  Shalom, as defined by Jewish journalist Susan Perlman, is about peace but also wholeness, completeness, soundness, health, safety and wide-spread, available prosperity…. In order for there to be peace, there needs to be justice.  In order for there to be justice, there needs to be a desire for equity, a levelling out of wealth and resources, likely with some overbalance in order to get there, a removal of all manner of barriers so that there is fair opportunity for everyone to experience shalom. Such peace, justice and equity will come only if the systems change, systems that continually fill the pockets and bellies of those who have more than enough while others go empty, away.”

It's a bit precious to quote oneself, so enough of that.  But the reason I was drawn to say it again, is that this year 2025 has been dominated by things very much the opposite of this broad, beautiful notion of peace.

I yearn for peace in its simplest form.  I tend to live a pretty quiet life, I grew up in a pretty peaceful family, and when our kids were growing up people would comment about how much calmness they brought with them.  This being the case, when I hear the word peace, my first association is this kind of mellow, harmonious tranquility.  A week ago, in retreat time on Vancouver Island, I was reminded of how much my soul needs not just quiet placidness, but full-on tranquility, the kind one finds in a tree-lined trail and the sounds of running water as it cascades and gurgles through rapids and streams.  The classic words of the 23^rd Psalm, which speak of walking with our Shepherd God “beside still waters” and the way that this “restoreth my soul” are so apt; solitude in nature opens us to an important aspect of peace, especially at a time of year when seasonal activities ramp up and a flurry of gift-buying can be anything but peaceful.

My second association with the word peace, beyond placid tranquility, is the way it’s used all the time in the news, that is, peace as the absence of war.  On October 9^th a truce was settled between Hamas and the state of Israel, and even as we hope and pray that the truce will hold, anything truly resembling peace in Gaza, the West Bank and Israel is a long, long way off.  In Ukraine, the war is nearing the four year mark, and we hear a lot of bluster from narcissistic world leaders bragging about their role in establishing peace while at the same time wondering aloud if now would be a good time for a war. In northeastern Nigeria, continuing abductions by the Boko Haram chill me to the core as I try to imagine what it would be like to live in a situation where the threat is so present and unpredictable.  Yesterday, Canada marked the 36^th anniversary of the Montreal massacre at Ecole Polytechnique, and we lament the ways that gender-based violence of all sorts makes life a living hell for so many.   Peace, in this sense – being able to sleep soundly at night without being targeted by personal or political violence – remains a key part of God’s plan for the world, even though it is so elusive.

But the thing that really strikes me as 2025 mercifully draws to a close, is the way that the “John the Baptists” in our world today, those who do not remain silent in the presence of injustice, are so very essential to the establishment of a peace that goes beyond tranquility, a peace that transcends signatures on a peace treaty.  This is the fullness of the Shalom embodied by Jesus, insistently announced by John the Baptist, the peace demanded when truth-tellers speak out.  As the rights of trans children and their parents get wiped out in parts of Canada, including our neighbours to the east, Calgary based organizations like Skipping Stone and our United Church affiliate, Affirming Connections, bring the consequences of this targeting into the light of day.  As immigrants south of the border and in many nations get scapegoated for everything, as the heartbreaking stories of  Indigenous Residential School survivors get intentionally disbelieved by some members of our own provincial legislature, as the needs of this planet are casually set aside, it is so important to have the right to protest, and to have media voices that are committed to principles of fairness, diversity and verifiability, unafraid of state retribution is they step out of line, to open our eyes and ears and hearts.  As the world in 2025 has been held captive by the wild whims of a small handful of elected leaders and captains of industry, we know all too well that just being silent about the evils of the world does not equate to peace.  Trying not to rock the boat does not move us in directions that honour God.

As jarring as it is to hear the baptizer thundering “you brood of vipers” at the crowds who had come to hear him, John was doing the groundwork needed for people to actually engage Jesus, the Christ.  John pushed people to change the very foundations of their lives, not just plaster over the problems. He was infuriated by the inaction of supposedly good-hearted people whose pious words and intentions were just for show. And, just like his cousin, Jesus, John the Baptist paid for opposing the status quo with his life.

One of the heroes of my childhood was another God-follower, who paid that same ultimate price for being a “John the Baptist” figure in his day, and proclaiming the good news of Jesus, our lover and liberator. Preaching in 1956 at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. shared these memorable words at the time of the Montgomery bus boycotts.  I share them, in the language of the day in which he wrote them:

“I had a long talk the other day with a man about this bus situation. He discussed the peace being destroyed in the community, the destroying of good race relations. I agreed that it is more tension now. But peace is not merely the absence of this tension, but the presence of justice. And even if we didn’t have this tension, we still wouldn’t have positive peace. Yes it is true that if the Negro accept his place, accepts exploitation, and injustice, there will be peace. But it would be an obnoxious peace. It would be a peace that boiled down to stagnant complicity, deadening passivity and If peace means this, I don’t want peace:

·       If peace means accepting second class citizenship, I don’t want it.

·       If peace means keeping my mouth shut in the midst of injustice and evil, I don’t want it.

·       If peace means being complacently adjusted to a deadening status quo, I don’t want peace.

·       If peace means a willingness to be exploited economically, dominated politically, humiliated and segregated, I don’t want peace. In a passive non-violent manner we must revolt against this peace”.

And then Dr. King concludes, “Jesus says in substance, ‘I will not be content until justice, goodwill, brotherhood, love yes, the kingdom of God are established upon the earth. This is real peace. Peace is the presence of positive good’.”

“Peace is the presence of positive good.” What a beautiful, simple way to put it.  And that’s where I want to leave things on this Second Sunday of Advent, 2025, the Sunday of Peace.  In our individual lives, in our life as a faith community, in our life as The United Church of Canada, may we be people whose lives depend on the presence of positive good.  In our neighbourhoods, in our towns of Oliver and Osoyoos, as residents of BC and citizens of Canada, may we be people who want the wide-spread presence of positive good.  While I still find it challenging to hear the Advent ravings of John the Baptist at the same time that I want the placid, harmonious, tranquil version of the Christmas proclamation, “Peace on Earth, goodwill toward all people”, I give thanks for the baptizer’s reality check at this time of year.  And so we lift our prayers for peace: peace that is substantive, just, and filled with the glory of God.  Amen.

References consulted/cited:.

Geopolitical Monitor. https://www.geopoliticalmonitor.com/map-boko-haram-nigeria-020915/

Government of Canada. https://www.canada.ca/en/women-gender-equality/commemorations-celebrations/16-days/national-day-remembrance.html

Jabakhanji, Sara and Bruce, Graeme. https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/israel-gaza-ceasefire-violations-tracker-9.6990252

King, Martin Luther Jr. https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/documents/when-peace-becomes-obnoxious

Perlman, Susan. https://inheritmag.com/articles/what-is-shalom-the-true-meaning

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge

Isiah 65: 17-25 - Sunday, November 16, 2025

For a collection of writings written amidst decades of turmoil, there are times that the book of Isaiah paints a picture as stunning and evocative as the most beautiful of the Psalms.  Today’s reading from Isaiah 65 speaks not only of our dream but God’s dream, with words that evoke a solemn engagement of the now, and holy hope for a better horizon.  They speak profoundly of hopes for humanity, but even for renewal of earth itself.

Today’s sermon begins, then, with a second reading of a segment of today’s scripture lesson.  I invite you to sit comfortably in your pew, release your shoulders, quiet your mind and focus on your breathing: breathing in God’s love, breathing out anything in the way of embracing or believing that love.  As you enter into that rhythm, hear these words once more:

¹⁷ For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.
¹⁸ But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating….
²⁰ No more shall there be…an infant who lives but a few days
    or an old person who does not live out a lifetime,
for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,
    and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
²¹ They shall build houses and inhabit them;
    they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
²² They shall not build and another inhabit;
    they shall not plant and another eat,
for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,
    and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
²³ They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity,
for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—
    and their descendants as well.
²⁴ Before they call I will answer,
    while they are yet speaking I will hear.
They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.

What a beautiful presentation of God’s ways of shalom, unfettered by “former things”.  As a Christian, as the season of Advent approaches, these words align well with our hopes for the new realm, the Kin-dom of God, a new heaven and new earth of joyous abundance for all creation. Depending on where that fits within your personal belief framework, each of us lives, to an extent, aware of that invisible and barely imaginable horizon line – a divine reality unfolding now and culminating in the future, all of which is beyond our perception.  And in Isaiah’s glorious portrait of a promised new heaven and new earth, nobody dies young, nobody’s life is lived solely for the prosperity of someone else, and even the natural enmity between species is no more.

While this reading from Isaiah bears remarkable similarity to New Testament writings of Christ’s return at a date yet to be determined, this was not the original intent of Isaiah.  

The book of Isaiah was written over many decades, by a series of authors.  It is thought that chapters 56-66 are mainly addressed to people who had returned to Jerusalem following decades of Babylonian exile. They had been threatened, and conquered, and hauled away to exile; seventy years later set free from exile, and then when they returned to their homeland they found it desolate and decimated. They needed help, and hope, in the present tense. So these words from Isaiah 65, then, in their original setting were not intended as prose about what God has in mind for some undated future; they were words of imminent hope, declared to people who had already been to hell and back.  Note the way it begins, “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth,” then it is referred to as something God “is creating.” These are words describing something about to start, soon.  

This was the canvas, then, on which Isaiah paints God’s masterpiece of unfolding hope, and perceiving this hope as something in process right now remains a helpful way for us to receive the words in our deeply messed up world in 2025.  Can we hear these words, not as far-away, not-in-our-lifetime events, but as expressions of God’s loving intention even now? 

When living in comfort, there is a tendency to tame scripture, to make it pleasant and general.  But for those living hard lives right now, there is an urgency to Isaiah’s words, for they are an indicator that God actually notices them and understands their plight.  So I’m going to briefly revisit these words a third time, one chunk at a time, and invite you to wonder with me who in the world right now, would hear these words as a lifeline of hope, aligning with their deepest needs.  And as you hear these words, I also invite you to notice if anything here really catches you, for I’ve got an interpretive framework to share a bit later that speaks to that. 

We begin with verse 20,

²⁰ No more shall there be…an infant who lives but a few days or an old person who does not live out a lifetime, for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth.

The world we live in has huge differences in infant mortality rates, based on the prosperity and political stability of the nation in which the child is born.  So right now, the rate of infant mortality in Afghanistan, Somalia or the Central African Republic is twenty times higher than the rate in Canada, and more than fifty times higher than the rate in Slovenia, Singapore or Iceland.  That is not God’s dream; longevity for all, is God’s dream, along with education for all, opportunity for all, fresh air for all, healthcare for all, and every bit of it unhindered by income or nationality or ethnicity or gender or sexual orientation. We lift to God all the solvable factors that lead to such high rates of infant mortality in too much of the world, including the baffling rise in suspicion of vaccinations in parts of Canada, as we long with the God of universal love for a day when children live long and happy lives, everywhere.

We move on to verses 21 and 22, with their easily pictured yearnings:
²¹ They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. ²² They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat,

Living in a place of vineyard, orchards and ground crops, we can picture this! These words strike home for many of our children and grandchildren, who struggle to find pathways to affordable housing, and they reach out to many in the global south, where nutritious food crops were ploughed under decades ago to make room for cash crops.  We saw this firsthand in 1988 when we had the privilege of doing a United Church overseas summer internship in the Philippines: lands where fruits, vegetables and rice once grew were converted to the production of rubber, sugar cane, pineapple and other export-only crops. As we see so many people living rough in our towns and cities, as we bring to mind many First Nations across Canada that deal with substandard housing and decades-old boil water advisories, we are reminded that God’s vision is quite different, and we are allowed to long for the day when all, peasants and tenants and sharecroppers, shall build sturdy houses and inhabit them, plant gardens and orchards for their own use, enjoyment and benefit.

And finally we move to verse 23,

²³ They shall not labour in vain or bear children for calamity, for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord— and their descendants as well.

That is one very stark phrase, “children born for calamity”.  We think of children whose childhood is truncated by war and violence, and as we recall that these words of Isaiah were initially focused on people returning to Judah from a time of exile, we hold in our hearts the children of Gaza who are cornered by their life’s circumstances.  We think of child soldiers in Colombia, Mozambique, and Syria, and children in the Democratic Republic of Congo who mine cobalt so that our laptops, cell phones and cars can be easily recharged. We think of the 50 million people in the world today who are enslaved, either in forced labour or forced marriage.  We think of intergenerational trauma endured by descendants of Residential School survivors.  And as we think of all these who seem to be born for calamity we hear God say NO:  this is not my intent, you all of you, are beloved and blessed, no matter how strong the powers of empire may say otherwise.  And so, in an act of defiance, we, with God, yearn for a world where the cries for a world made new will upend the status quo.

In spite of all of the hopefulness that Isaiah brought from God to the returned exiles, I realize that the net impact of hearing all of this might sound helpless or hopeless.  But I have something to share that might help. Many years ago, I heard a talk by Bishop Thomas Garrott Benjamin, Jr, a legendary African American Pastor in Indianapolis.  Over a 42 year pastorate he oversaw huge changes in the shape, focus and physical location of the congregation and its ministry.  A few years before he spoke to us, the congregation decided to go all-in to be a place of safety, learning and empowerment for children in their reach.  When asked what advice he would have for other congregations wanting to find what God had in mind for them, he said this: find your passion.  More specifically: find your passion by “following the tracks of your tears.”  If it moves you to tears, then that may well be the calling God has for you.

As you have experienced these words from Isaiah this morning, or in your prayers from day to day, is there something in particular that moves you to tears, a deep yearning for you or perhaps even a calling you perceive for the next season of this congregation’s life?  Is there something calling our name, to continue something we are doing or initiate something new?  If you sense this, please share: be in touch: with me, with Shannon, with the people of the Transition Team/Joint Exploration Team.  For even as we acknowledge God’s role in the great and glorious unfolding of a new heaven and new earth, we also know that our calling as disciples of Jesus Christ is to bring love and hope in tangible, human, right-now ways.  We are called to be co-creators of the new realm, not yet here, but already in motion, to dream God’s dream with actions large and small.  

For millennia, the prophets of our Jewish forebears, and religious reformers and activists within our Christian story, have strived to bring God’s hopes into the lives of those most needing to know they are not alone in their struggles. So I end with Isaiah’s closing words of hope: ^24 “Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord”.  May it be so, Amen.

References consulted:

https://disciples.org/people/dedicated-disciple-bishop-t-garrott-benjamin-jr/

https://www.facebook.com/uccphilippines/posts/behold-i-create-new-heavens-in-which-life-justice-and-peace-are-possible-for-all/892091046282420/

https://news.un.org/en/story/2024/12/1158661

“What about the children?” a 1998 VHS resource of Light of the World Christian Church, Indianapolis, Indiana.

https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/infant-mortality-rate-by-country

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.

Psalm 145: 1-4, 8-10. Remembrance Sunday, November 9, 2025

 

This morning I want to talk about three of the most important words in the Bible, in worship, in our families, and in the way we live in community.  And what might these words be? Something from the big four Advent words, hope, peace, joy and love? Kindness? Compassion? Courage? Accountability? Honesty? Equity or equality?

Those are all big, important words, but the three words I have in mind are way more common than any of those, and in many ways, words that can be dangerous if misused or misunderstood.  The words are WE, US and OUR.

At their best, these little words imply a sense of belonging.   We know how devastating it is when individuals do not have a sense of belonging, either because they feel so different from those around them that they could not even imagine being welcomed, or because it has been made abundantly clear to them, by their parents, culture, neighbourhood, or even government, that they are NOT welcome.  News reports are full of situations where someone described as a “loner” did unspeakable things, or where someone was adrift and found a sense of belonging for the first time in a cult, a gang, or a group of religious extremists.  Two of our adult children are trained social workers, with experience on the front lines, and we hear from them that so many of the clients they deal with had absolutely awful childhood experiences, devoid of love and stability but with the message that they weren’t good enough coming through loud and clear. Among other factors, that sense from their days of childhood of not belonging to a safe, loving “we” made for a really shaky foundation.

It is so important to have places you feel you belong.  In a small way, I think we saw some of that belonging when the Blue Jays were having their inspiring run toward the World Series, and Canada proudly claimed them as “OUR” team. In the early 1990s a sociologist named Ray Oldenburg coined the term “third place” to describe a place beyond home and work, which he described as “a familiar public spot where you regularly connect with others known and unknown, over a shared interest or activity”. These are places of belonging, places, he wrote, for “people to gather easily, inexpensively, regularly, and pleasurably; a ‘place on the corner,’ real life alternatives to television, easy escapes from the cabin fever of marriage and family life that do not necessitate getting into an automobile.”  He named pubs, doughnut shops, pool halls, bingo halls, lodges, and youth recreation centers as the kinds of places that would fit this role, and I would add that volunteering at places that serve a common need – like the Thrift Shop – also fits the bill.  And to state the obvious, a Church should be a place where people from a wide variety of ages and backgrounds feel that they really “belong.”

But what happens when the words WE, US and OUR are meant to build walls, when a sense of belonging is used by a town, or a Church, or by people of the dominant culture, not in an invitational way, but in a possessive, defensive, superior way, to define insiders and keep outsiders away?  When Shannon and I were on our “settlement charge” in eastern Saskatchewan in the late 1980s, I remember a village about 45 minutes south of us which had a gas station with a small convenience store and a couple of big round tables where the locals would sit and chat.  Once or twice we had the occasion to stop for gas and when I walked in the door to pay, the sense of “we” in that room clearly did not include me.  The message of non-belonging and un-welcome was clearly articulated by the sudden silence at the table and an intense glare that said “pay for your fuel, and hit the road”.  And that’s just on the small scale; imagine what it’s like in to live your life knowing that there is an approved WE or US, you need to think a certain way, believe a certain way, and be of an approved sexual orientation, citizenship status and ethnic background, “or else.”

The importance of having healthy connections where the words “we” “us” and “our” are broad, invitational words for the good of everyone was well known to Jesus.  When teaching his disciples how to pray (Matthew 6: 9-13), Jesus started with a word of togetherness and common connection, the word OUR: “Our Father, who art in heaven”. When asked which commandment was the greatest, Jesus answered not with one commandment, but two: one that made clear a sense of belonging with God, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind”; and a second one, calling on his followers to create a broad sense of belonging that goes beyond family and friends, “You must love your neighbour as yourself”. (Matthew 22: 37-39) Here, I recall the memorable teachings of Cynthia Bourgeault, who notes that Jesus is not directing us merely to love our neighbour as much as we love ourselves, but to love one’s neighbour AS “oneself”, to expand our whole sense of personhood so that your neighbour is considered an extension of you.  That is as strong a sense of “we”, “us” and “our” as one could possibly have.

When I first settled on the 145^th Psalm as the scripture that I’d be focusing on this morning, what drew me was that it was a song of praise, an outflowing our unreserved love for God.  Amidst the general bleakness of November, the solemnity of Remembrance Day, and the ongoing worries perpetuated by agents of Empire in our world, this scripture re-grounds us in the awesome glory of God.  Something we don’t see in our English translations of this Psalm, is that in its original Hebrew version, Psalm 145 takes the form of an alphabetical acrostic, where the first word of the first verse starts with the first Hebrew letter, alef, the first word of the second verse starts with the second Hebrew letter, bet, the first word of the third verse starts with the third Hebrew letter, gimel, and so on to the end of the alphabet.  Within this clever structure, the Psalmist basically finds as many nice things to say about God as there are letters in the alphabet, implying, in English terms, everything from A to Z is all about the goodness and glories of God.  We heard just a snippet of this Psalm but if we carry through the whole thing, God is described as great beyond understanding, glorious and majestic, kind and good and wonderful.  God is compassionate, loving, patient and faithful, God is glorious and eternal, the one who reigns for ever.  And in case all of these superlatives make God seem a bit distant, we also hear of God’s concern for those who are in trouble, those who have fallen, those who hunger, and all who sincerely call on God for help.

At times, I get so busy with small but pressing tasks, and weighed down with big worries about the world we live in, that I lose sight of these magnificent qualities of God, the author of all creativity and goodness. Psalm 145 speaks of God, the Holy One, the One who calls us together in service and in praise, the one who focuses our sense of WE, US and OUR in all people, all of creation being loved by this one, wonderful God.  And the United Church Creed begins with the words, “WE are not alone, WE live in God’s world” and concludes, “In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with US. WE are not alone. Thanks be to God” which once more uses the words WE and US in ways that are broad and inviting.  “We” to me is everyone who, in any way, recognizes the power of God’s love in their lives, and the “us” is all of us who share this planet. God implores us to not get lured into a small sense of WE and a mean-spirited sense of US and OUR.  This Psalm is not only designed to praise every aspect of God’s goodness, but to name all the good qualities and potentials that God has placed in our hearts.  In this, Psalm 145 bridges those two parts of Christ’s great commandment, for when we love God wholeheartedly, we in turn find ourselves empowered to truly embrace our neighbours as self, and to take it personally when any are being targeted, demeaned, or made to feel unsafe.  Not just the neighbours that look familiar and sound familiar, not just those we’ve known forever and are comfortable with, but all the beloved ones of God with whom we share this planet. 

In all of this, I am well aware that none of this is as simple as words on a page.  Most of the Bible was written at a time when the author’s people were overrun by their militarized neighbours, Egypt or Assyria or Babylonia or Rome, and that would not be lost on the poet who wrote the 145^th Psalm.  The sharply divided world of today, defined by ideologies, ethnicities and religious differences, fuelled by the need to obliterate those who don’t fit the narrower definitions of WE, US and OUR is such a mess that it’s hard to even know where to start.  And as we prepare for Remembrance Day this Tuesday, honouring all aspects of peace-making as we wear red poppies of remembrance and white poppies of peace, we cannot help but recall the grim decision to take up arms that reshaped so many lives, and ended others.  Living as we do, in a broken world, creates dilemmas that have no good solutions.  And yet… and yet… we are called, in the midst of all that, to choose a life in which WE, US and OUR find their footing in a broad-based commitment to hope, and love, and peacemaking.  WE and US are words of reconciliation and harmony as OUR common goals. And knowing how hard it is to actually reach beyond our usual circles of comfort, we rely on God’s infinite grace, to help us learn how to be to the greatest benefit of all, as people who strive to love the God of all creation, and to love all manner of neighbours in this beautifully diverse world.

We are reminded this morning, of who we are and whose we are, in the biggest, broadest ways, children of the living God.  May our sense of WE and US continue to grow, may OUR yearnings be God’s yearnings, may we help to usher in a world of encouragement, compassion, lovingkindness, and peace.  Amen.

References cited and/or consulted:

Bartel, LeRoy. “Hymns of Praise.” https://www.facebook.com/groups/coffeewithlord/posts/24298862573058120/

Bourgeault,  Cynthia. The Wisdom Jesus: Transforming Heart and Mind—A New Perspective on Christ and His Message (Shambhala: 2008), 31-32.  Accessed via the 17 January 2019 daily email of  www.centerforactionandcontemplation.com

deClaisse-Walford, Nancy. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-25/commentary-on-psalm-1451-8-4

Jewish Virtual Library. https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-hebrew-alphabet-aleph-bet

McCormack, Gavin. https://www.montessori.org/what-happens-when-are-children-know-they-are-truly-loved/

McGowan, Emily. https://www.thegoodtrade.com/features/third-place-community-spaces/

Project for Public Spaces, “Ray Oldenburg”. https://www.pps.org/article/roldenburg

 © 2025, Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.

Luke 19: 1-10 - All Souls Day, Sunday, November 2, 2025

Today’s sermon, even in the shadow of the Blue Jays' disappointment, pretty much needs to start with baseball. A two-time all star, winner of a silver slugger award as the top hitting catcher, Alejandro Kirk had a terrific season in 2025.  He’s a excellent defensive catcher, communicates well with the pitching staff, has terrific bat control and occasional home run power.

Thing is, in addition to all these baseball superlatives, he isn’t built like your average ballplayer. While the average MLB player is about 6’2” and 200 lbs., Alejandro is 5’8”, 245 lbs.  With that being the case, the mean-spirited world of social media says very little about what a great player he is (and that’s not going to get better after his making the final out of the World Series).  No, the armchair sports experts are more interested in body shaming, focusing on his height and weight and his slow running speed rather than the maximum effort and strong decision making he shows on the basepaths.

Over the years, I’ve been astonished at how much permission society gives to making fun of people who aren’t very tall.  My mom wasn’t real tall, neither was Shannon’s dad, and other than our son there’s not a lot of height in our family.   But beyond this, at staff meetings, public gatherings, or even at Church, how many times have we heard “no, stand up!” when a shorter person has stood to make a point, followed by laughter, and it’s only once in a blue moon that the room gets told how cheap and hurtful that is. 

Apparently, this denigration has a long history, for our scripture reading today is about a tax collector named Zacchaeus, whose most memorable attribute was that he wasn’t very tall.  Christian commentator Nancy Rockwell outlines his story and significance very well:

“’Zacchaeus was a wee little man’.  We sang that loud and proud in Sunday school when I was young.   We had no idea who Zacchaeus was, but we loved getting to sing a song that made fun of a short guy.  Jesus may have been his friend, but we still got to call him Shorty.

“We weren’t bullying anyone exactly, and we were children, so we were all short.  But the lesson, for those who didn’t grow tall and for the rest of us, was there.   Bullying, which is such a social problem in our time and in our schools, begins with something simple like that.  And gets taken to extremes by some who feed on the pleasure of putting someone else down.

“Zacchaeus must have been remarkably short, for Luke to have written down that detail about him.  It seems he was a first century scapegoat, the guy everyone got to pick on.   And that may be why he became a tax collector for the Roman Empire.  As Caesar’s tax collector, he finally got some respect, even if it was the grudging kind….So when Jesus came to Zacchaeus’ house for lunch that day [it was] hard for the townspeople to watch Jesus do [that].” 

In one way, this is an extraordinary story to be included in the Bible.  As Nancy Rockwell stated, Zacchaeus was very much a first century scapegoat, both for his lack of height and his collusion with the Roman oppressor, so for him to function as the central character in this story, to share table with Jesus and be welcomed into right relationship with Jesus, is most unusual. Zacchaeus, as a “wee little man” literally did not measure up to the leadership expectations of his day and, like it or not, that bias still exists. In his 2005 bestselling book Blink, Malcolm Gladwell noted that “in the U.S. population, about 14.5 percent of all men are six feet or taller. Among CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, that number is 58 percent. Even more striking, in the general American population, [just under 4 percent] of adult men are six foot two or taller. Among my CEO sample, almost a third were six foot two or taller.” 

But Jesus isn’t hoodwinked by such things.  Jesus, sizing things up through the very eyes of God, sees not the height (nor the unsavoury occupation) of this potential disciple, but he most definitely sees the potential.   Jesus notices Zacchaeus up in the sycamore tree, hails him to come down, and insists on dining with him.  He ignores social convention, doesn’t worry that being friendly with “this kind of person” might lessen the number of people drawn to his religious renewal movement, and sees past the externals to understand who this person was at heart.  Zacchaeus is forthright in admitting his past misdeeds and specifically promises to clean up his act, and Jesus graciously accepts that at face value.  

In this story, Jesus did what God repeatedly does in our sacred text, the God who chose Moses with all his shortfalls to be the guide from bondage to freedom, the God who selected young David as King over his older siblings, the God who chose a not-quite-married teenager to be the mother of the Messiah; Jesus chose the least likely, and drew out the best they had to offer.  And to be perfectly honest, if we were to look around the table with Jesus, the inner circle of twelve disciples along with the other women and men who supported his mission, we are hardly looking at a who’s who of middle eastern elites.

On this weekend of All Hallows, All Saints and All Souls, we consider the God who calls even the least likely to discipleship, and we give thanks for those who have presented themselves for service.  At All Saints (yesterday) we remembered those canonized as Saints, and today, at All Souls, we remember the faithful departed, people from our life’s story and from the life story of this faith community whose lives of service exhibited an embodiment of the invitational, uplifting love of Jesus.  I particularly want to note the lives of those who followed in the pattern of Jesus in seeing and encouraging the gifts and callings of others, who recognized the divine spark in others and found ways to bring those embers to fuller flame, regardless of whatever limiting factors stood in the way.  In a world where opportunity is yet again getting withdrawn from those who were finally getting a fair chance, to be concentrated once more into the hands of those who have always held power, we celebrate the exact opposite of this, namely, God’s agenda of fair, powerful love. We give thanks for those who see beyond the limitations of the now, and live as encouragers in the name of Jesus.

And there is one more thing for us to consider in today’s gospel reading – something a bit dangerous, tiptoeing along the lines of being heretical, and, for those directly impacted, possibly a bit thrilling.  You may have noticed that there is some ambiguity in today’s gospel reading, which began in the Greek and was picked up in the old King James Version and persists in most translations.  In verses 2 and 3 (of the NRSV-UE) we read, “Zacchaeus…was a chief tax collector and was rich. ³ He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature”.  In our “wee little man” song and in the sermon thus far, we assume that the “he” who was short in stature was Zacchaeus, but the way the sentence is structured it could just as easily have been Jesus who wasn’t very tall.  Going up in a tree to see better makes sense for Zacchaeus if he was small but it also makes sense if Jesus was small, and hard to see through the crowd without getting a better vantage point.

At the end of the day, as I read through the story, I think it makes more sense for Zacchaeus to be the person who is short in stature, but Bible translators through the ages have conceded that there is an ambiguity here, and I for one am happy for its presence. For when we think of the message and character of Jesus, the way that he consistently lifts up and empowers those who have been judged and marginalized by society, the abuse he absorbed all the way to crucifixion, wouldn’t it be a powerful statement if he also knew what it was like to be casually mocked in his life, fully identifying with the type of unrelenting, wearying bullying that vertically challenged people have to put up with every single day of their lives.  For me, to think about Jesus rather than Zacchaeus being the short fella in this gospel is the opposite of sacrilegious; such thinking draws me even closer to Jesus, my Saviour, the person of the Trinity who fully understands all of the challenges of human life. 

Regardless of how we see ourselves, regardless of how others see us, Christ Jesus actually sees us and calls us.   On this day of communion we, like Zacchaeus, are invited to dine with Jesus.  On this All Souls Day, we recall those who overcame all manner of obstacles to come into contact with Jesus, and embrace Christ’s ways of love as their ways.  As Christians, as Canadians, we hear this story with a casual and unchallenged prejudice woven directly into its narrative, and seek awareness of all the little way that such thinking worms its way into our relationships.  And once again, we give thanks for the way that scripture, and our ongoing connection with the risen Christ, steps across the centuries to illumine our path today.  Amen.

References cited:

Adler, David. https://www.mlb.com/news/featured/aaron-judge-is-a-baseball-giant-but-how-does-he-compare-outside-mlb

Baseball Reference. “Kirk, Alejandro.” https://www.baseball-reference.com/players/k/kirkal01.shtml

Gladwell, Malcolm, Blink (2005), accessed via Coles, Tammi L. https://globalnetwork.io/perspectives/2020/10/luck-bluff

Rockwell, Nancy. https://www.patheos.com/blogs/biteintheapple/a-short-story-about-saints-and-bullies/

Wikipedia. “Zacchaeus” (song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zacchaeus_(song)

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge.