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.

Genesis 32: 22-31 and Luke 18: 1-8 - Sunday, October 19, 2025

This morning we have before us two incidents that involve persistence, conflict, and a resolution that teaches us of the power of perseverance: ours, and God’s.

The reading from Luke is self-contained and straight-forward. Jesus tells a parable about “a judge who neither feared God nor respected people” and a widow who was relentless in her pursuit of justice.  Eventually the woman’s persistence pays off, and the judge gives in, not because he is concerned for justice, because he’s had enough of her.

In this, I believe that Jesus is making two points.

1)    His first point is a rhetorical question, as he teaches his disciples to always consider the way things are now, versus how they will be in the Kingdom or Kin-dom of God: if a judge who respects neither God nor humans is willing to relent when a just cause is presented over and over again, can you even imagine how glorious it will be to live in the Kingdom of God, where such perseverance won’t be necessary, for the heart of God will be embraced by everyone and dignity will be respected without anyone needing to harp about it?

2)    His second point, views things from the widow’s standpoint.  Widows in that culture, unless remarried to a family member of the deceased husband, were in a really tough spot, with few options for financial support.  Rather than accepting defeat when she is cheated, this widow persists in expecting that the world should be a fair, just place for everyone, including her.  She raises her voice to the judge in court, and she presents her needs to God in prayer. And with this I can picture Jesus turning to us disciples and saying, “this is your role, too.  When there is injustice or oppression, don’t sit in polite silence.  Pray for those in need and insist on fairness from those in human authority, for that is what God intends.”  Bringing this into our current day, grass roots movements including the “No Kings” protests are saying enough is enough, and we recall the United Church of Canada’s new call and purpose, of deep spirituality, bold discipleship, and daring justice. Our calling is to dare to push for justice, even when injustice is entrenched, to be bold in speaking truth to power, even when that is awkward or scary, and to know that at its heart, every action we take on behalf of the marginalized, including our prayers, is an action that articulates our love and trust of God.

We set that aside for a moment, to be picked up later on, as we engage the more nuanced of our two readings, the story of Jacob, wrestling and striving and emerging with a new identity.  As an aside before doing so: I admit that I find it a lot easier to delve into this particular story, which speaks of the formative days of the people of Israel, at a time when there is at least a process of peaceful intent between Israel and Palestine.

Whenever engaging stories from the Torah, I attempt to find what a range of contemporary Jewish voices have to say, out of respect for the faith tradition that first received this text as scripture, and to come alongside the lively and enduring rabbinic tradition of truly wrestling with Biblical texts.  

And in so doing, Rabbi Dr. Elliot Dorff and the late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks ask a question: “With whom was Jacob wrestling?” And then, they mull some possibilities: “it might be Jacob wrestling with his own conscience… According to the prophet Hosea, it was an angel. For the Sages, it was the guardian angel of Esau. The Bible text itself simply says Jacob was wrestling with “‘a man.’ And Jacob himself had no doubt - it was God. The adversary himself implies as much when he gives Jacob the name Israel, [which means] ‘because you have struggled with God and with man and have overcome.’” What intriguing possibilities!

This incident of Jacob, wrestling all night, does not arise from nowhere, so let’s review a bit about Jacob’s back-story.  Jacob and his twin brother Esau were the sons of Rebecca and Isaac, grandsons of Sarah and Abraham.  The sibling rivalry between these twins was intense right from the womb; the name Jacob means “heel-grabber” as when Esau was born, tradition says that Jacob was holding on to his brother’s foot.  This rivalry intensified as they grew to adulthood, with outdoorsy, impulsive Esau closer to his father, and the more analytical, domestic Jacob closer to his mother.  Esau, barely the elder of the two, was to inherit everything upon his father’s death, but Jacob extracts that inheritance from him one day when Esau was staggered by hunger, trading some well-timed lentil stew for the birthright.  This got sealed when Jacob, egged on by his mom, pretended to be his brother, kneeling down before his blind, ailing father to be blessed, wearing animal pelts to emulate his rugged brother. (Which makes me wonder, “just how hairy WAS Esau? But that’s a question for another time.) Interestingly, while I have always regarded this deception by Jacob as crafty, one of the Jewish sources I consulted (Chabad.org) saw the will of God in all of this, for by imitating Esau, his less capable, much more impetuous older brother, Jacob insures that Isaac’s blessing will go to the brother better suited to the complexity of the task ahead. Given what we’re seeing in the world of today when an impetuous person has too much power, I can understand this point of view.  

Needless to say, whether it was “for the best” or not, this reassignment of inheritance and blessing caused a huge rift between the brothers and Jacob spent much of his adult life in fear of his intense, angry brother. Recently (Genesis 32:6), Jacob heard “that Esau was coming to meet him with a force of four hundred men, and, in response tried diplomacy (sending lavish gifts of herds and flocks to Esau), prayer (‘Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother’ Jacob begged to God) and when those did not work, he readied himself and his camp for war (dividing his household into two camps so that one at least would survive).

But one chapter later, in Genesis 33, when Esau finally appears, “all the fears turn out to be unfounded. He ran to meet Jacob, threw his arms around his neck, kissed him and wept. There is no anger, animosity or threat of revenge in Esau’s behaviour …and in reply, Jacob and all his household bowed down to the ground seven times before Esau.” They were reconciled.

Knowing all that came before and after Jacob’s night-time wrestling match, we wonder once more who he was wrestling with, and why?  Was he wrestling with Esau’s guardian angel? With himself? With God? I think the correct answer, is “yes.”  Jacob had a lot to answer for in his previous behaviour, and he had to wrestle with that.  His brother was furious with him and wanted him dead, and he had to wrestle with that.  And God saw special potential in Jacob in spite of all this, and Jacob had to wrestle with that too.  From this point on, God knew this man not as Jacob, the heel-grabber defined by his rivalry with Esau, but now as Israel, “the one who struggled with God and with humans and has overcome”, the one who would literally and figuratively be the father of the 12 tribes of Israel.

To me, this image of wrestling with self and others and God well-describes a healthy faith life. Whether one describes themselves as “spiritual”, or “religious,” or both, the humility and curiosity and engagement that it takes to wrestle with our beliefs and behaviours, knowing that we might need to change, suggests an openness that is so needed in the world of today.   Our faith life isn’t primarily about memorization or even being in the right; it involves actually grappling with the complexities of life, the complexities of human beings, the complexities of one’s own motivations, and the shortfalls of our knowledge.  

And to do that wrestling is in itself an important statement of faith.  To wrestle with God, to engage the complexities of human living as we struggle to discern God’s will, is to imply that there is a God.  There is something there, someone real and impactful and alive for us to wrestle with. And it’s not just the divine that we are to wrestle with; when we have the opportunity to have an honest engagement with those of a different mindset, we step away from labelling and dismissal, and in so doing we acknowledge their personhood.   And here, today’s two scripture lessons come together to make a point.

I know myself well enough to know that I like it when things are harmonious.  I don’t like it when people are upset with each other.  But as much as I would choose harmony if I could,  I have also seen enough situations, in workplaces and congregations and towns and provinces to realize that there comes a time when people must speak up against injustice, people need to “rassle” with their own thoughts and with each other in order to try to improve the lives of those whose lives are made a misery by public opinion or government policies.  To be a person of faith is not only to have things conceptually in order, but to do the hard emotional and spiritual work of confronting my fears and my shadow side.  To be a person of faith is to face both my doubts and my beliefs in ways that equip me to listen and to act.  And, to be a person of faith is to be persistent in taking up the cause of justice, even if that creates conflict, like the widow’s insistent pleading of her case before an unprincipled judge until he finally relented. It is so important that people of good will do this hard work, as we see horrible old attitudes leaking back into common conversation, and as governments take dead aim at women, immigrants and other people of colour, first nations and people on disability assistance and trans folks.  It turns out that fights for justice and equity I thought had been permanently won 40 years ago need to be won again.

And as we wrestle like Jacob, as we persist like the widow, we celebrate that even as we persevere, so does God.  Day by day, the outrageous behaviours and mean-spirited actions that fill our news cycles might suggest an absentee God, but thankfully, that is not the case.   God’s commitment to goodness and grace never ends. God insists that a love founded in truth, empathy and equity is the very power of life, and it will prevail.  God’s highest hopes for us, which we learn through our walk with the risen Christ, are truly relentless.

On this day of worship and praise, may all this be so.  Amen.

References cited:

Dorff, Elliot. https://www.aju.edu/ziegler-school-rabbinic-studies/our-torah/back-issues/wrestling-god

Kaminker, Mendy. https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/2389625/jewish/Jacob-Wrestles-With-the-Angel.htm

Sacks, Jonathan (in memoriam), https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/vayishlach/jacob-wrestling/

Also consulted:

Crossan, John Dominic. In Parables: the challenge of the historical Jesus. NYC: Harper & Row, 1973.

Goldstein, Rabbi Elyse. The Women’s Torah Commentary.  Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2000.

Holbert, John. https://www.patheos.com/progressive-christian/surprise-of-grace-john-holbert-07-28-2014

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

Luke 17: 11-19 - Thanksgiving Sunday, October 12, 2025

I’ve never been in the habit of titling my sermons, but if I were to title this one, it would be “cleansed, cured and made whole.” This title is borrowed from Mark Davis, a Presbyterian Minister in southern California, who every week digs into the Greek of Sunday’s gospel reading and regularly unearths some absolute gems.  I met him last year, and thanked him for this. In his translation of this reading from Luke 17, he sees a move from cleansing, to cure, to being made whole, and that move has helped me to structure today’s sermon.

First, some background. Today’s gospel reading finds Jesus walking in an in-between place, between Galilee and Samaria.  This may sound like a throw-away detail, but it is anything but.  In those days, the long-held animosity between Jew and Samaritan was so strong that they would go around each other’s territory when traveling, greatly increasing the distance. Capernaum to Jerusalem, for example, is about 140 km by the most direct route, but 200 km if you skirt around Samaria.  In spite of adding one or two days to the journey, virtually every Jew travelling from the Galilee to Judea would take this bypass rather than risking interaction with Samaritans.

But Jesus does not do this, he walks right into this uncomfortable territory. I’m sure he would have had both Jews and Samaritans shake their heads at his disregard of social convention, but he ignored that cultural foolishness because (a) his life’s work was all about dismantling old boundaries to prepare for the Kingdom of God, where the old rules about power and prejudice will end, and because (b) according to Luke, Jesus Christ was God incarnate… and God does not play our games of labelling, judging and excluding those we regard as “other.” The hatred and avoidance between Jews and Samaritans was not of God’s making, so Jesus ignored these human constructs, and walked right in.

The ten men Jesus encounters are described by various Bible translations as “men with a dreaded skin disease” (Good News), “people with leprosy” (CEV) or just plain “lepers” (Phillips).  I “get” the desire of Bible translators to soften the harshness of the language, but I’m going to assume that these ten men had leprosy, a terrible, disfiguring bacterial disease of the skin and nerves that still exists, and creates terrible physical symptoms and devastating social isolation.  In their daily lives these men were seen basically AS their disease; their entire personhood was shaped by the term, leper:  unclean, diseased, to be avoided.  And Leprosy, or “Hansen’s Disease” is a cruel disease, for the severity of its disfiguring symptoms, for the social isolation it creates, and for the casual way that “leper” gets used to describe social outcasts who have been “rejected or ostracized for unacceptable behavior, opinions, or character.” 

The ten men with leprosy described by Luke, were in the land between the Jews and the Samaritans, partly because nobody else would go there, which gave them the ability to move around more freely, and partly because they were a mixed group of both Jews and Samaritans. In a way, this group of ten understood God’s will in a way that the divided peoples of Judea, Galilee and Samaria did not; they had to get past the differences, because of the terrible disease which unified them. As required by religious/civil law, they kept their distance and shouted, “unclean, unclean” but, according to Luke’s recollection, they also recognized Jesus as someone who could help, adding, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"  And to that plea – and the plea of all who live on the knife-edge of hopelessness – Jesus does not keep his distance. He cleanses them.

And here we are, at the first of the three words put forward by Mark Davis: CLEANSE.

In order for these men to re-enter society, they would need to be cleansed, then inspected by the priest in order to be declared fit for re-entry.  Jesus, carrying God’s healing power but also knowing that he wasn’t formally designated as a priest, cleanses them and sends them off for this next, required step. And lest we feel unkind thoughts toward the nine men who hustled off to the priest without giving Jesus a second thought, they were overwhelmed by being cleansed and could not afford to mess it up by not following the rules.  To be cured, they had to see a priest.

So Jesus CLEANSED them, but he was not the one to declare them CURED.  “Cure” [ἰάομαι] and “cleanse” [καθαρίζω] are separate words in New Testament Greek; though Jesus clearly asserted some spiritual cleansing here, cleansing implies something akin to disinfection, and in the 21^st century would also involve antibiotics which can, thankfully, cure leprosy.  The proclamation of being cured or disease-free, however, was up to a priest, who had been trained to inspect the lesions, if healed over, would allow the men to re-enter mainstream society.

And this brings us to the third term proposed by Mark Davis: MADE WHOLE [σῴζω]. Jesus cleansed and initiated cure, the priests determined and declared that they were cured, but they wouldn’t be fully healed or made whole until they were re-integrated into their communities and families.  Then, and now, it’s one thing to get rid of a disease of the body, mind or spirit; it’s another thing to overcome the relationships twisted or broken because of the disease and the societal response elicited by it.  But there’s another thing that goes on in this gospel story, around being cleansed, cured and made whole: while nine cleansed and cured men continue their journey of restoration, one man pauses the process, and turns back to Jesus to express his gratitude.  it’s interesting that only at this point of the story does Luke tells us that this one man who returned to Jesus was a Samaritan.

Whenever the gospels refer to Samaritans, imagine the word in big flashing lights.  The animosity between Jews and Samaritans is not hard for us to imagine in a world where genocide is a reality, a world where the progressive political leaning of a city is enough to send in the National Guard under false pretences.  Raised amidst the bad blood between their people, the Jews, and their traditional enemies, the Samaritans, the disciples could not imagine that there was one shred of good in Samaritans, so Jesus decides to break down this bigotry, regularly casting Samaritans in a positive light, in his stories and in his daily interactions.

In Luke’s story, however, there is an irony: the moment that one man turns back to Jesus – an exemplary moment of giving thanks to Jesus and, through Jesus, to God – is also the moment where the group of ten divides. When they lived together as a cluster of men with leprosy as their unifier, their differences of ethnicity or religion did not matter but now that they are moving to being restored to community, those social separators kick in and matter a great deal. Now the Jews head one way, and the Samaritan goes the other way.  I recall Indigenous soldiers in Canada who remember soldiers of all backgrounds fighting as comrades in arms overseas, then coming back home and being segregated again: white soldiers, back to the city or farm, and Indigenous soldiers back under the thumb of the Indian Agents.  In hard times, the differences barely mattered, but in more normal times, the separateness of societal norms is reawakened.  It our gospel reading, it is a sad sidebar that once the men are restored to mainstream life, they are also restored to separation. We’d be completely off-target in saying that life in a leper colony was nice, yet there is a bittersweet loss of togetherness in this return to their two solitudes.

Debie Thomas, another of my favourite authors over the past years, is an Episcopal Church leader in north California.  She was born in Kerala, South India, and raised as a preacher’s kid in Boston, Massachusetts, and reflecting on this scripture she writes, “Like many children of immigrants, I grew up juggling a complicated and often confusing mix of identities: South Asian, New England suburban, evangelical, and feminist.”  As a woman of colour, as an American citizen and a person of south Asian ancestry who is not Hindu, Muslim or Sikh, she knows a bit about the kinds of complexities lifted up by the 17^th chapter of Luke and she writes,

“This week’s Gospel story is, of course, about thankfulness. Ten lepers experience healing; one experiences salvation. There is something about the practice of thankfulness that enlarges, blesses, and restores us. The leper’s act of gratitude points to the fact that we were created to recognize life as a gift and to find our salvation at the feet of the giver.

“But this passage also speaks to questions of identity—questions of exclusion and inclusion, exile and return. This is a story about the kingdom of God—about who is welcome, who belongs, and who stays. As a daughter of immigrants, I feel these questions in my bones. They’re not intellectual or abstract; they’re emotional and urgent. What does it mean to belong? Where is home, and what is my identity?”

These are key questions for us to consider as Church, as we look into the future.  It is my sense that even ten years from now, our denomination and its local congregations will be much more diverse in ethnicity and in gender expression than we are today. Churches that survive will be those who have learned to see things from the standpoint of those not presently with us yet who yearn for spiritual connection with others. We will learn to see this as the gift of new and unfamiliar ways, rather than the loss of the more comfortable and more familiar. Debie Thomas pushes me here, as she speaks from first-hand experience; I hear her questions, “what does it mean to belong…where is home… what is my identity?” as questions I need to understand, hard questions which are being asked around me even now by people I do not yet have a relationship with but who could, potentially, change my whole worldview.  And when I imagine that, as I imagine responding and building relationships, my worries about the future of our Church don’t magically go away, but many of my worries are lessened and replaced with a sense of wonder.

This is such a fine story relayed to us by Luke, about a time when Jesus disregarded social convention, walked into the scary place between two cultures, and initiated a process of restorative wholeness.   In this story, God and Jesus shine, with their ability to enact change and their disregard for our silly rivalries, and in this story a Samaritan’s behaviour (once again!) teaches a lesson.  Debie Thomas, furnishing my closing words, describes it like so:

By returning to Jesus, one of the men expresses gratitude, “but it’s also the expression” she writes, “of a deeper and truer belonging. The tenth leper is a Samaritan, a ‘double other’ marginalized by both illness and foreignness… [and] it’s quite possible that the Samaritan’s social ostracism continues even after the local priests declare him clean.

“So what does he do? What does his otherness enable him to see that his nine companions do not? He sees that his identity—his truest place of belonging—lies at Jesus’ feet. He sees that Jesus’ arms are wide enough to embrace all of who he is—leper, foreigner, exile.

“Ten lepers dutifully stand at a distance and call Jesus ‘Mas­ter.’ One draws close, dares intimacy, and finds his lasting home, clinging to Jesus for a better and more permanent citizenship. The tenth leper moves past obedience and finds friendship. He discovers what happens when duty gives way to love”.

May these words, of the good news of Jesus Christ, find a home in the hearts of our lives, our land, and the Church.  Amen.

References cited: 

https://www.cdc.gov/leprosy/about/index.html

Davis, D. Mark. https://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com/2013/10/cleanse-cure-and-make-whole.html

https://www.dictionary.com/browse/leper

https://www.ictinc.ca/blog/indigenous-veterans

Thomas, Debie. https://www.debiethomas.com/ and https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2016-09/october-9-28th-sunday-ordinary-time

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

Luke 17: 5-10 - World Communion Sunday, October 5, 2025

How much faith is enough?  This may well be the most old-timey and “churchy” opening I’ve ever had to a sermon, but it’s a question worth asking. And on this World Communion Sunday, with many Churches not only sharing communion but following the same lectionary readings, I suspect there are preachers in the Philippines, Nigeria, Brazil, the UK and the US preaching on the power of even the tiniest bit of faith.

While there are many scholarly definitions of what faith is, I’m going to defer to the book of Hebrews 11:1 (NIV), which states “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”  To say that I am a person of faith, is to acknowledge that there is much about life and human destiny that I do not know and cannot know. It starts, then, with humility. But there is also within faith a profound hope in the power of love, counting on the foundational love of God on which all life rests, and the activated love of those who will not bend when tempted by something other than love.

But how much faith is enough?  I recall as a teenager being particularly worried about this, absolutely certain I didn’t have enough to meet God’s standards. Apparently, this was a concern for the disciples, too, as today’s gospel reading begins with a request to Jesus to increase their faith. It is as if faith were a commodity that one could either create or obtain. 

The great protestant reformer Martin Luther coined the term Sola Fide, or “justification by faith” as a way to steer Christians away from the notion that they can earn their way into heaven by their actions, and it's important to hear the fullness of what Luther was saying, and not saying.   Howard Griffith, interpreting Luther, writes “Faith is trust in God. Faith is not…an inward good work that takes the place of outward good works.”

Faith, then, isn’t a commodity we construct or possess in order to get on God’s good side, nor is it, as Howard Griffith says, an “inward good work.”  And while we’re attempting to define it, even the most confident faith does, and indeed must, still have questions.  As Paul Tillich wrote in mid-1950s, “Doubt isn’t the opposite of faith; it’s an element of faith” for faith is not the same thing as certainty. There are things about life and death, forgiveness and grace, and the nature of love itself, that are beyond our ability to know with certainty, and part of being human is finding ways to muddle through amidst that uncertainty. The term “faith” is one way to name that muddling through: a God-given tool that helps me live with humility and to trust in the power of God’s creative, invitational, forgiving love, even amidst uncertainty.

As Howard Griffith suggests, when we see the word FAITH in scripture we could substitute the word TRUST, and we would approach what the New Testament means.  While the word “faith” can be treated as something fixed, an unchangeable assertion of one’s belief in God and Jesus Christ, the word “trust” implies commitment to a relationship with something or someone that is trustworthy. To have faith in God is ultimately a statement of trust: first, that God exists and second, that the God we know from reason, experience, scripture and tradition is infinitely trustworthy.  In expressing my faith, I trust that God is creative and loving, God is attentive and forgiving, God is the source and destination of my soul.  And in the year 2025 in the northern hemisphere, where religious faith is frequently mocked as “believing in imaginary friends”, it is no small thing to say that in my deepest being I trust in the loving, personally engaged sacred source of creativity and love, that I know by the name, “God,” and the ongoing presence of the living Christ.   

With this, then, we turn to the parable of the mustard seed and its description of the amount of faith that is needed.  As a Canadian I am delighted Jesus used a mustard seed as his object lesson that day, for Canadian farmers produce almost 40 per cent of the world’s mustard crop and are the largest exporter of mustard seeds for the manufacture of prepared mustard.  But beyond my Canuck pride, it’s a relatable parable because most people can picture a mustard seed.  It’s not as tiny as some seeds we’re familiar with, such as a carrot seed, but when Jesus decided to tell a story about tiny beginnings leading to great growth, a mustard seed was his object lesson of choice.

Charles Price, pastor emeritus at Toronto’s People’s Church, shares a wonderful extended analogy, in which he connects one of his life experiences with this parable.

He recounts his first time on an airplane. He was heading from the UK to a newly-accepted position in Africa, and as he sat in the middle seat of a bank of three, he was pretty apprehensive about the journey ahead of him.

In the seat beside him was an older Scottish lady who was gripping the arm rests with both hands.  Like him, she had never flown before, and she was terrified.  If not for the fact that her grandchildren in Africa needed her, she would have happily gone through the rest of her life never having flown in an aircraft; but they did need her, and here she was. 

On the other side of Charles was a businessman who had flown hundreds of times before.  He settled into his seat, put his attaché case under the seat in front of him, lightly fastened his seatbelt, and casually started to read the newspaper.

In order to get on that airplane, Charles related, each of them needed to have sufficient trust that the aircraft was sound and that the pilot’s experience and ability would get them safely to their destination.   The terrified Scottish lady indeed only had “faith the size of a mustard seed” – believing that there was, at best, a 51% chance that she would not die on this flight.  By comparison to her faith the size of a mustard seed, Charles surmised that he had faith the size of, say, a potato; and the business traveler beside him had faith the size of a watermelon. 

Then Charles made a point I’d never even considered.  Not only did all three of these travelers arrive safely at the airport in Kinshasa, all three of them did so at the same time; the gent with the watermelon sized faith didn’t arrive three hours before the terrified Scotswoman.  Overlaid on the parable told by Jesus, the tiniest amount of faith, akin to a mustard seed, was all that was needed to safely arrive at their common destination.  

What did vary, though, according to the amount of confidence and trust each of the travellers had, was the quality of their trip.  While the experienced traveler relaxed, enjoyed his meals, read a bit and napped when he felt like it, young Charles got through it but never really “relaxed”; and the poor terrified woman remained in the grip of fear the entire journey, enjoyed none of it, and the half-of-one-meal that she attempted to eat didn’t stay down for long.  The more trust they had – with trust and faith being more or less synonymous - the more they enjoyed the journey.

In response to his disciples’ desire to increase their faith, Jesus held up a mustard seed, the tiniest seed planted in his culture, (1mm–2mm in diameter) and said “this much faith” is all that’s needed.  If, in the interplay between belief and doubt that goes into making up our faith, doubt and worry seem to be getting the upper hand, remember, my friends, that faith the size of a mustard seed is all we need.  If your faith is more the size of a potato, or a watermelon, bravo! - but a tiny little seed will do. As Charles Price related, nobody gets “more saved” by having more faith, but chances are pretty good that if you can release whatever is blocking you from trusting Christ’s kind, inclusive, diligent love to guide, protect, and re-shape your life, you’re going to enjoy the ride much more. I need to remember that in these turbulent days when so many seeds of hatred, are being sown. Seeds of love will grow into positive change!

As we engage the daily challenges of life, as we look into the future of this community of faith and wonder what lies ahead, as we think of ourselves in the context of Christian response in other lands, I invite you to faith: Faith, as in, honestly wrestling with both belief and doubt; Faith, as in, leaning into God’s trustworthy love, as promised and embodied by Jesus.  By that faith, with that trust, may your life and our life together truly flourish.  In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.

References cited or consulted:

Borg, Marcus.  Speaking Christian. NYC: HarperOne, 2011.

Griffith, Howard. https://journal.rts.edu/article/luther-in-1520-justification-by-faith-alone/

Mustard 21 Canada. https://mustard21.com/research-summaries/condiment-mustard-development/

Price, Charles. http://www.livingtruth.ca/LT/charles.asp

Revised Common Lectionary. https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts/?y=384&z=p&d=78

Tillich, Paul. Dynamics of Faith. NYC: Harper and Row, 1957.

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

Psalm 121: Sunday, September 28, 2025

 What follows are the leader’s notes from a Worship/Workshop presentation by Rev. Shannon Mang, September 28, at both Osoyoos and Oliver United Church congregations.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills-- from where will my help come?
My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber.
He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.
The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.

Psalm 121 is a Song of Ascents, meaning that it was a song that was sung by pilgrims as they travelled to the Temple in Jerusalem for festivals. I wanted this psalm to be in our head and hearts as we look back at the patterns of Christian history, and United Church history and look ahead just 10 years as the United Church. The pilgrims sang this song as an assurance that they were being protected as they journeyed to the Temple for the great religious celebrations, and then returned home afterward.

A RUMMAGE SALE OF EPIC PROPORTIONS

Last week I gave you a “heads up” that we would be looking at the premise of Phyllis Tickle’s book called the Great Emergence. Phyllis was a historian who saw, and wrote about a significant pattern.  As summarized by Anglican Biship, Rt. Rev. Mark Dyer, “Every 500 Years the Church feels compelled to hold a giant Rummage Sale… we are living through one of those 500-year sales”

In Phyllis Tickle’s work, Christianity has gone through 3 of these every 500-year cycles… and we are in our 4^th great upheaval. The upheaval has three predictable results once the dust settles:

• 1. A new and more vital form of Christianity emerges
• 2. Organized Christianity comes out with two new creatures– a fresh expression of Christianity and a refurbishment of the former creature
• 3. The new expressions of Christianity spread dramatically in new geographic and demographic areas it has never been before

Christianity’s last rummage sale resulted in the Protestant reformation. Reformers had struggled to bring reforms to the church for at least 2 centuries- there was a coming together of political powers with the reformers in the church.

Luther was at the right place at the right time- the brand new technology of the printing press changed everything

• Luther’s- and all of the other Reformer’s movements– Wycliff, Müntzer, Zwingli, Knox, Calvin all brought the sweeping change of literacy to Europe teaching everyone across class lines, both men and women to read for themselves
• The Roman Catholic Church had to address the corruption in itself– the Counter Reformation
• There was untold political and religious chaos for decades as all the Reformation movements took hold- Calvinism, the Anabaptists, Anglicanism all brought freedoms… and warfare.

It paved the way for exploration and trade… and colonialism

·        the Protestant Reformation created the conditions for the industrial revolution,

·        And the double mandate of colonialism– to spread Christianity and to exploit the riches of the world…

·        and the trans Atlantic slave trade from the 15^th to the 19^th Century… The good that comes from the Rummage Sale plants the seeds of what ends up corrupt and needing another massive Rummage Sale 500 years later

DEEP – BOLD – DARING: TOWARD 2035

In mid May of this year, all United Church congregations and ministry staff received an Open Letter from our Executive Secretary, Michael Blair called Toward 2035. This was just prior to the Centennial celebrations of the UCC. The letter was an invitation to begin a conversation about what our United Church of Canada might look like in 10 years… 

I am going to share parts of the Towards 2035 presentation from the General Council meeting in August 7-11, 2025, in Calgary. The Towards 2035 project takes seriously what Phyllis Tickle was writing about, and this project is the United Church’s commitment to live faithfully in this chaotic time.  Trina Duncan, Regional Council Executive Minister for Pacific Mountain and Chinook Winds Regions, and Cameron Fraser, Director of Growth and Ministry Development led this information session in Calgary…

Introduction:

Toward 2035 is a denomination-wide strategy. Inspired by our call, this strategy needs to be rooted in truth - both decline and growth - and address the likely trajectories, toward a better future.  The United Church continues to be called to faithfully witness to the God of abundant love, the Christ risen among us, and the lively Spirit who works in us and others.  We are invited to embody this witness first and foremost in the lives of faithful disciples gathered in communities across Canada, in small rural localities, towns, suburbs, and the breadth of Canada's cities.

The Changing Religious Context of Canada from 1991 to 2021:

In 1991, most Canadians identified as Christians, and half were Catholic, with the next largest group --very close to ¼ were made up of mainline Christians: United; Anglican; Lutheran; Presbyterian. 7% were “other Christians” and 4%  were other faiths.  In 1991 a new category, those who identified as “No Religion”, made up 13%. In 1991, it was normative to be associated with a Christian church.

In 2021, thirty years later:

Catholics went from 49% of respondents to 33%, The United Church went from 12% to 4%. The other Faiths category went in the opposite direction– it grew from 4% to 13% but the area that grew the most is that  “No Religion” category – it went from 13% in 1991 to 39% in 2021. In 2021, slightly more than ½ of the population still identified as people of faith, but Christianity in Canada has gone through a contraction in the past 3 decades.

Another way of looking at the same data from the last two slides, is that the Catholic line and United Church numbers are both in decline at approximately the same rate, the “Other Faiths” category has gone up at about the same rate as the Catholic and United Church lines went down…  but that “No Religion” line  grew exponentially.

My immediate family is reflected in the data of this 30 year period- there were 4 children in my birth family and 2 of us siblings continued to have a relationship with church in our adult years and 2 of my siblings did not. In the next generation of children and cousins, not one of them is involved with church– including my own offspring. Are your children and grandchildren reflected in that red line too?

Congregational Participation in The United Church of Canada

The next section of Treena and Cam’s presentation showed data from within the United Church of Canada, comparing membership, Sunday Attendance, participation in Sunday School and the total number of pastoral charges from 1992, 2023 and a projection to 2035 just using straight mathematics and a straight line projection.

Total Membership

1992: 767,055 > 2023: 321,054 > 2035 projection: 111,000

Average Sunday Worship Attendance

1992: 324,222 > 2023: 110,877 > 2035 projection: 8,174

One thing that jumped out for me in this set of figures is why were there only 324,222 people showing up for church  in 1992 when the membership of 767,055… in 1992 more than 50% of the membership of the UCC was staying home on Sunday mornings(442,833 were missing)

(In 2023—> 321,054 members-110,877 attendees= 210,177 –missing

In 2035 à 111,000 members- 8174 attendees = 102,826  -missing??)

The fact that more than half of our members weren’t going to church shows us that we were having an issue of relevance for some time.

Participants in Sunday School

1992: 185,033 > 2023: 18,048 > 2035 projection: 2,554

This slide shows us what most of us who have been in the church for the past 3 decades have  experienced directly. The overall national birthrate has been in steep decline, and those Canadians who are having children are simply not including church in their lives.

Sunday Schools and youth and young adult groups were an expected part of church life, but I now see any programming for children or youth is the exception, not the rule.

Total number of Pastoral Charges

1992: 2,423 > 2023: 1,976 > 2035: 1,633

The message of these numbers is a bit confusing after seeing the previous numbers.

If there are 8,174 people showing up for worship in 2035, across 1,633 pastoral charges, that shows that mathematically, we can expect about 5 people coming to worship in each Pastoral Charge--- which is goofy. Trina called this the thinning down, or a hollowing out of congregations, which is very prevalent now--- while there are fewer people in worship, congregations are proving to be much more resilient than we expected ten years ago in 2025.

Treena did say that we are, in fact only 2 years away from a national pivot point in the United Church where there will be cascading closures of congregations leaving large areas of Canada where there will be no UC presence.

2022 and 2025 public research results indicate that 60% of Canadians express a felt sense of stress or concern for mental well-being, wondering about living to life's fullest potential, lacking meaningful relationships. 49% express a belief in God or a higher power and 45% of these engage in a practice of prayer.  

In our current context, these 60% of Canadians DO NOT see the church as a place where they could have their needs met--- or they do not yet see the value of living out their belief in God or a higher power, or coming together to pray AT A CHURCH…

That is the hard news – the reality of us living through the current Rummage Sale of Epic Proportions…

And now some good news--- our story has not ONLY been about decline… let’s look at actual growth. In 2023, out of a total of 1976 Pastoral Charges, 205 reported an increase in membership; 604 reported an increase in worship attendance; 189 adults (12 years or older) were baptized; 316 people were welcomed by profession of faith. In total, in 2023 around 1500 people joined a United Church.

And there are Emerging Communities of Faith: 11 new communities of faith were funded within Pacific Mountain Region; 30 emerging migrant communities of faith supported by the General Council; other newly emerging communities are initiated by local congregations.

When taken as a whole, the following PREFERRED FUTURE FOR THE CHURCH IN 2035 has been stated for our denomination:

·        Resilient, inspired, diverse United Church communities of disciples, coast to coast to coast, urban and rural continue the story of Jesus, by embodying Christ's presence in our time and place.

·        In the broadest of terms, and in diverse expressions across the country, inspired communities embody all aspects of the denominational Call - Deep Spirituality, Bold Discipleship, Daring Justice.

·        The United Church as a whole, more closely reflects the racial and ethnic diversity of Canada, with Indigenous and Francophone presence, and includes the presence of all generations, notably children, youth, and young adults.

Like the pilgrims of old who sang Psalm 121 as they travelling to Jerusalem, we have been travelling through these last 3 decades and have witnessed huge changes in our communities and our congregations. We can be assured that God has travelled with us, and has been our protection. Our lived experience of the Christian church in North America going through a massive Rummage Sale, and changing dramatically has meant that those of us still gathering on a Sunday morning, have become a rare, but deeply resilient group.

(In twos and threes, attendees at the September 28 service were then invited to engage in conversation, with these questions: What do you take from what you’ve seen and heard today?  Where do you see God at Work doing something new in our communities of Osoyoos and Oliver?)