Luke 15: 1-3, 11-31

One day, some Pharisees came to Jesus and complained that he was eating with outcasts and other sinners.  Rather than barking back defensively, Jesus told them a three-part story.

For the sake of brevity, we did not hear the first two parts of the parable read aloud this morning, but they’re relevant to our discussion: the first part is about a lost sheep, in which a shepherd shockingly leaves ninety-nine sheep to their own devices in order to rescue one that wandered off.  The second part is about a lost coin, in which a woman searches feverishly for one of ten dowry coins until it, too, is found. 

The final part of this three-part parable, which we heard this morning, is about a lost son.  Or perhaps two lost sons, as the elder son was as lost in his anger as the younger son was in his wild living. Commonly known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, it’s a wonderful illustration of the human condition and God’s incomparable grace, a story that could be preached on week after week without exhausting its possibilities.  

Where I’m going to start today, is with things I learned from two related books: Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes by Kenneth Bailey, and Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes by Randolph Richards and Brandon O’Brien.  These authors have reconstructed the cultural assumptions of the audience who would have heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son first-hand, and they describe three moments in the parable that the audience would have found jarring:

Jarring moment number one happens when the younger son demands that he be paid his inheritance, right now.  Just think of it, from an agricultural standpoint: the inheritance wasn’t money, it was a half-share in the family farm.  The only way to pay that out in advance is to sell half of the land and livestock, with the father and the elder son retaining the remaining half.  While the father in the parable agrees to subdivide the property, Kenneth Bailey indicates that the actual response in a middle eastern society would consist of (1) a statement by the parent that this land comes available only when he is are cold and dead; (2) a back-handed slap across the face of the offending son; and (3) permanent banishment from the land.   This course of action would have been so well-established, in fact, that the hearers of this parable would wonder what never-never land Jesus has set his story in, because it could never have happened where they live, not a chance. But, says Jesus, this parent – a metaphor for God - is not bound by rules of propriety, this parent is bound only by love, so he allows the younger son to follow his heart and, cash in hand, junior leaves for a place far away from home.

Jarring moment number two comes when the younger son, who has lived an extravagant or “prodigal” life, turns for home.   Having wasted his precious inheritance on a raunchy, wasteful lifestyle, he knew he was no longer part of the family he’d grown up in, and could barely even imagine that there would be a place for him back as a hired hand on the ranch.  He knew that none of the neighbours would have anything to do with him, because in treating his parents as he had done, he would be as dead to the neighbours as he was to his own family.  And here, generations of preachers have often taken a misguided step. We want to see in turning for home, a conversion moment, when the young man believes in advance that only the loving arms of his Father can save him.

But the story sure doesn’t say that.  It does imply that the young man heads toward home both embarrassed and humiliated, and he does apologize, but Randolph Richards and Brandon O’Brien point to verse fourteen of today’s scripture: the primary reason he heads for home is because of a widespread famine in the land. He turns for home, because things were so hopeless that he’d try anything. When he demanded his half of the inheritance the younger son had basically said, “Dad, I wish you were dead and I’d like my land now” and there was no chance at all of being accepted back by his parent.  But, says Jesus, this parent – this God of ours - is not bound by those rules of propriety, this parent is bound only by love, and the way the story unfolds, with welcome and celebration, exceeds the younger son’s wildest dreams.

And then we have jarring moment number three: the eager response of the parent when the prodigal returns would be scandalous to the original audience.  When the son comes within visual range of his dad, his father’s “heart is filled with pity, and he ran, threw his arms around his son, and kissed him”, and before the prodigal could say a thing, his father sent a servant to “bring the best robe and put it on him.  Put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet.  Then go and get the prize calf and kill it, and let us celebrate with a feast!”   This presents one stiff jolt after another for Jesus’ listeners.  First off, in that culture it was humiliating for a man over the age of 40 to run for ANY purpose, but beyond that you have all the other problems already outlined:  Nobody would do what this father did.  But, says Jesus, this parent is not bound by those rules of propriety, this parent is bound only by love.  Who cares about the cultural rules? The son who was as good as dead has come back to life, start the feast and strike up the band!!  God received the return of the lost child as cause for celebration.

In shaping this story as he did, with such disregard for social convention, Jesus would capture his audience’s attention and perhaps raise their anger.  He portrays God, not as one who is bound by cultural expectations, but as one whose foundational love transcends all.  And as Kenneth Bailey wrote, thinking once more of how this parable would be heard initially and, well, now, “Grace is not only amazing, it’s infuriating!”  And with this, I feel my embarrassment rise,  for the slow burn of the more dutiful brother who stayed and worked for his father and resented the wastrel’s return is perhaps more familiar to me than the joy of the father.  I can identify with the elder lad more than I care to admit, times in my life when I thought that someone else had been allowed to follow an easier path than the one I’d had to walk.  In those moments, I am like the elder son and, as it turns out, like the Pharisees who had confronted Jesus in the first place: pious, dutiful, and utterly without grace.

The God of Jesus’ understanding, the God who indwells him and inspires every bit of his teaching and healing and self-sacrifice, is a God whose love is so deep that nothing can subdue it.  A sheep who foolishly wanders off, a coin that may never be found through no fault of its own, a child who is easy picking when temptations call hither, all three of these elicit the same response from our loving parent: you are lost, and I’m not going to stop looking until I find you and restore you. And then we will celebrate!  Yes, unlike the sheep or coin who needed to be searched for, the prodigal son voluntarily turned for home so it was a matter of receiving him rather than finding him, but the restoration to the larger group was still done by God, the everlasting source of love. In the season of Lent, the path of desolation followed by Jesus, which led to crucifixion, and the power of love and grace, which led to resurrection, show us that holy love once more.

It is noteworthy that while the stories of the lost sheep and lost coin both end with the words, “In the same way [as there was rejoicing when these were found] there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15: 10), assuring us of God’s eternal and heavenly welcome and delight, the ending of the story of the prodigal son is different.  Jesus leaves the story of the Prodigal unfinished, with the parent attempting to help his elder son find enough grace in his heart to welcome his brother home: “My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.  But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” (Luke 15: 31-32). 

This wonderful three-part parable ends, then, not with everything neatly worked out and tied up with a bow, but with the messiness of what happens next.  That, to me, suggests that this story is ours to finish. From a personal standpoint, there are times in my life when the reality of God’s unconditional love has meant absolutely everything to me: the sense that no matter how much I had screwed up, no matter how badly I had squandered the gifts of life, our outrageously gracious God still greets me with love.  The culturally inappropriate image of God, running down the road in a place where an adult simply did not do that, shows that nothing can keep the God of love from being the God of love.  I hope, for all of us, that this sense of God’s love in all circumstances feels true and trustworthy. I hope that in those times when we might find it hard to love ourselves, when guilt or shame overwhelms us, when we yearn to end an estrangement,  or when we are the one feeling wronged, God’s active, out-reaching forgiveness and love will hold us close and awaken in us the reality of grace, given and received.

From a societal standpoint, though, I admit to needing a bit of extra reassurance right now, for it feels like we Canadians, and in many ways the world as a whole, are still out in the land where the prodigal son got stranded by a perfect storm, of famine in the land just when his cash reserves had been drained.  Though I was reassured somewhat by the positive meeting on Friday between Prime Minister Carney and the 47^th President of the USA, the current brokenness in Canada’s relationship with our closest neighbours, resembles the split between the siblings in this story, who got along just fine until something outrageous happened. If and when the time is right, how will we rebuild that relationship with our neighbours?  Will we be able to turn for home, or to find a new relationship with them that is healthy and stable? It is certain to me that we will need God’s own grace and courage, in no small measure, if any degree of reconciliation is to happen. And while much of my attention recently has been captured by this national concern, the brokenness in our world widespread.  As I consider what is faced by the people of Gaza and Ukraine, by queer and trans folx, by immigrants and refugees, by Indigenous peoples around the earth and by the planet itself… our need for God’s gracious, powerful, reconciling love comes clearer and clearer. As the younger son who deserves nothing is held in the loving embrace of his Papa, we see that love in action. That broad, loving intention of God, God’s yearning for the world and all who dwell therein to be restored to health and sanity and resultant rejoicing, restores in me a flicker of hope, and for now that will need to suffice.

Relatable across cultures and across the ages, the story of the prodigal is a story that will land differently for each person.  Perhaps there is unresolved brokenness in your story that comes to the surface; if so, let God be present to that.  Perhaps you have personal experience of dramatic healing; may we rejoice with you in that.  Perhaps the love described here is too big for you to really believe; may you be patient with that.  In all of it, we give thanks for a God whose very essence is the expression of LOVE, and for a parable from two thousand years ago which touches our hearts today.   Thanks be to God, Amen.

References cited:

Bailey, Kenneth. Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2008 – and - Poet and Peasant and Through Peasant eyes: A literary-cultural approach to the Parables.  Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983.

Richards, E. Randolph and O’Brien, Brandon J. Misreading scripture with western eyes: removing cultural blinders to better understand the Bible. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2012.

See also:

Doyle, Larry. https://www.baptistpress.com/resource-library/news/first-person-how-would-you-end-the-prodigal-parable/

LeMay, Mark.
https://www.parallax.org/mindfulnessbell/article/the-prodigal-son/

Thomas, Debie. http://journeywithjesus.net/essays/856-letters-to-prodigals

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

 

Luke 9: 18-25 - March 23, 2025 - Lent III

Jesus said, “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me.” As pointed out by a tongue-in-cheek poster by WonderCafe, this is not exactly the catchphrase you’d use as the front end of your marketing campaign, but they are nonetheless words at the core of our understanding of Jesus Christ.

I’m going to approach this statement as somewhat of an equation: deny yourself + take up your cross = follow me. That is, deny yourself, and take up your cross, taken together, is what equates to bring a follower of Jesus. We set aside selfish ways and engage in actions that affirm the lives of others, and we challenge those forces in the world that deny the fullness of life to all God’s children. To be a follower of Jesus Christ involves inner work and outward action, and we do so knowing that it’s not going to be easy.

So: the first element of the equation, Deny yourself.

Self-denial has for centuries been central to the penitential season of Lent, and is a central tenet of most world religions. Emulating the story of Jesus’ fasting for forty days in the wilderness, Christians take this time of year to give up luxuries – no sugar, no chocolate, no booze, no movies, no trips, no unnecessary purchases. This year, in many of our households, including ours, it has also been a time of letting go of our reliance on US produced foodstuffs and travel plans and video streaming services in favour of Canadian alternatives, a process which I have found to be both meaningful and exhausting.  Though it’s small-scale, an individual’s choice to “give up something for Lent” can be an important opportunity to go deeper with God, as it frees us from our slavish service of materialism. Self-denial, practiced with our hearts open, leads us away from the blaring allure of the world, and closer to the heart of God. The call to let go of self, as a means of stepping out of the busywork of our lives and into the stillness of the holy, opening our hearts to the essence of life. To this end, the Lenten conversations that Shannon is holding, each Thursday in Lent, help participants to let go of attachments and worries within a community that is committed to go deep with God. Times when we let truly let go of our attachments are God moments, for as our preoccupations are released we come to realize our connectedness with others through our shared Spirit. In those moments the separation between me dissolves, and the command to love others as ourselves takes on an entirely new, organic sense. We love others and they love us, because that’s who we are in Christ; the call to deny ourselves frees us to discover who we really are.

That basic move, away from worldly attachments, toward service of others and worship of God is a good thing, but self-denial can have one particularly nasty spin-off. When someone who is already humble, selfless and generous, and maybe of limited financial means, is coerced into further self-denial by someone who holds power over them, the call by Jesus to deny oneself is twisted into something he does not intend.

In the history of the Church, Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox alike, we have been guilty, often, of adding to the challenges of the challenged. Generations of already-burdened people, mostly women, often impoverished, have been handed pious reasons to further deny themselves, sold the lie that it’s what Jesus wants them to do. Ministers, priests, pastors, entire Church communities, have pushed vulnerable people to suck it up and not complain about their lot in life, mirroring the actions of abusive partners and feudal lords and plantation masters. The road of self-denial, which can lead to profound self-discovery if taken voluntarily, can be bent into something harmful and demeaning when used to create guilt among people whose lives are already bowed down by the oppressive weight of another. Our calling to let go and let God, must never be weaponized in this way. At its best, the path of self-denial takes us to a deep, divine place where see ourselves in connection to others, and their needs. As we come to know God with greater depth, we come to realize how interconnected we all are, we embrace the spiritual presence of the Holy that lives in me and in you and between us and beyond us. Christ’s call to set aside the stuff I want in order to see what’s really important, changes who I am. A new willingness to turn away from the bright lights of selfishness and consumerism, opens me to go deep with God.

The second element of the equation, is take up your cross.

I hear these difficult words from Jesus to his closest friends and followers, and almost immediately move to a metaphorical interpretation. To “take up my cross,” taken this way, is to face up to something challenging in my life, and deal with it. Taking up my cross, in a metaphorical sense, is to confront and change the most counter-productive aspects of my life, in the same way that Jesus did not shy away from the hardest aspects of his journey. This, I believe, is part of what Jesus intends with these words, as it goes one step further in the process of denying oneself.

But the call to take up our cross is more than just metaphorical. Speaking to his disciples in a situation of mounting instability, Jesus warns/informs them that their faithful discipleship will point them in exactly the same direction that he was heading: that is, toward a point of conflict with the powers that be, with crucifixion a distinct possibility. Yes, I recognize that whenever we come across scriptures where Jesus is talking about crucifixion, or speaking of himself as the Christ, we are likely reading words heavily edited by his first followers, but those same followers were completely committed to taking up their crosses and going the full distance with him. Not only in a metaphorical way, but in a real, literal, fatal sort of way. They were convinced that everything that Jesus said and did on behalf of the poorest of the poor was more important than anything else they could conceive, and they were as willing to give their lives for that, as Jesus had been.

Regardless of how we perceive the claims of Jesus on an academic or theological level two thousand years later, there was something about this travelling preacher that inspired his face-to-face followers to deny their own lives and take up their cross, to physically proclaim freedom and reconciliation in a context that wanted none of it, and the power of the sacrifices of the early Christian martyrs can never be downplayed.

When we commit ourselves to ways of radical forgiveness; when we reach out in love to those we are told to keep our distance from; when we walk hand-in-hand with those targeted by the powerful and the holier-than-thou, we take up the cross and follow Christ AND we will most certainly make enemies with the people and systems who want things to stay safe and predictable and manageable. And yet, that is our calling, as Church. When we do risky and unpopular things in Christ’s name, we prepare to carry the cross: our cross, his cross. To do so is may bring us into harm’s way – as sanctuary Churches in the US are finding these days - and it is clearly defined as the way we find new life in Christ.

 
So we return to that equation posed earlier in this sermon: Jesus calls us to an equation of fidelity: to deny ourselves + take up our cross = follow him. Jesus invites us to go deep – to release our ego and the goals the world puts in front of us, and to connect with one another at a level of Holy Love. Jesus invites us to go brave – to understand the depth of love required to truly take up a cross and follow him, to reject the falsehood of judgmentalism, spite and one-upmanship in favour of the resurrection life of forgiveness and reconciliation.

 
And Jesus, who in last Sunday’s lesson sent out the twelve in his name, two by two, does not intend that these actions of denying self and taking up the cross is not something we do on our own. We have one another, we have the risen Christ who goes before us along with the apostles and martyrs, we have God’s unimaginably deep love, and we have our well-placed hopes for the unfolding of God’s glorious Kin-dom. May this path of denying self and taking up the cross, in the name of Christ Jesus and for the sake of the world, be our path as we seek newness of life. Amen.

For further reading:
CIRA: “How to shop and buy Canadian.” https://www.cira.ca/en/resources/news/domains/how-shop-and-buy-canadian/
Rohr, Richard. “Every Viewpoint is a View from a Point”. Center for Action and Contemplation daily email, Wednesday, February 25, 2015.
World Scripture website, web chapter 18, “offering and sacrifice.” http://origin.org/ucs/ws/theme126.cfm


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

Luke 9: 1-6 - March 16, 2025 - Lent II

In our gospel reading this morning, Luke recounts the early days of the ministry of Jesus and the inner circle of twelve disciples.  I’d like to take a few moments with you, to enter that intimate space, face to face with Jesus.   

Imagine yourself in that group of twelve, given the power to go to the surrounding towns and villages to bring the gift of healing, and to proclaim a new realm founded on God’s own principles of equity, justice and hope.  Envision yourself, with Jesus, this charismatic young man, on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, a body of water not unlike our familiar lakes of the Okanagan valley.  And in that space 2000 years ago, we will need to set aside our mobile phones, and let go of the security of bank accounts, phone calls, hotel bookings, cars and planes and buses. 

In this space with Jesus, we could only know that those disciples knew.  Last Sunday we heard about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness, and between then and this morning’s gospel reading, Luke tells us what Jesus was up to.

·       He started his ministry as a solitary effort, teaching in local synagogues, and casting out demons.  Some celebrated this, others resented him and wanted him gone or dead. 

·       Before long, Jesus called disciples, to create community and to share the tasks of ministry. He called the fishers Simon Peter, James and John, the tax collector Levi, then eight more disciples of the inner circle and many more women and men beyond that. 

·       In their presence, Jesus healed those previously thought to be beyond restoration,

·       and the gospel writers describe a sense of being saved from peril, as Jesus stilled the waves on a stormy sea.

·       And Jesus taught, using parables, and he preached. Oh, how he preached. In the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus outlined a vision of the Kingdom or Kin-dom of God, in which society gets turned upside down. He spoke of love, not just for friends but for enemies; he spoke of generosity of person and generosity of spirit.

Having seen and heard all that, you have been well prepared by Jesus, and he is ready to send you out, two by two. He trusts you, in his name and by his power, to bring healing to those who are ill and all who experience brokenness.  He trusts you to bring his vision of a world where the distribution of wealth is inverted, to towns who had not yet heard this good news.  And Jesus calls you, in turn, to trust the townsfolk to look after you: for you are told to bring nothing with you other than your good heart, and good news, and the power to heal. If such a welcome is not received, you are to shake the dust off your sandals, figure out where in the world you are going to spend the night, and move on to the next town.

For one more brief moment, we imagine ourselves back then and over there with Jesus … and then we take those feelings of intimacy with him and his mission, and bring them into the present day. In these deeply unsettling days of 2025, you and me, all of us together – are called and commissioned to bring healing in Jesus’ name, and to engage the world around us with his message of profound, over-the-top, gracious, endless love. 

The task of discipleship in our time and place is complex, but for this morning I am going to stay with the gospel framework.  As disciples, here and now, we are to bring healing, and to open hearts and minds to Christ’s teaching of a new Kin-dom.

There are many ways to understand the healing ministry of Jesus.  In his time and place, there were many herbal remedies that would have been quite effective – willow bark, the precursor of aspirin, has been used as a painkiller for thousands of years - but much of the work took the shape of casting out demons, and performing healing prayers in the name of God almighty.  While we have the amazing gifts in 2025 of vaccination and sophisticated medicines and surgical interventions, there has also been in a number of United Church congregations a reclaiming of the ministry of healing prayer, and the ancient practice of laying on of hands, grounded in God’s own loving intention for each person’s life.  Starting in Naramata in 1992, the Healing Pathway has given one way for people and congregations to carry out Christ’s ministry of healing.  And beyond something that brings comfort and wellness to the physical body, we are called to bring healing and wholeness to all places of spiritual and emotional woundedness: broken hearts, broken relationships, broken souls.  We are called, in these unsettling days, to hear the concerns, the worries.  And in the midst of all that, Jesus calls and empowers us to be a people of shalom, that state of being when all persons have what they need to live fruitful lives, when all are treated as equally important, when all can live with dignity, when all of humanity lives in harmony with nature.  This may mean that we will need to speak difficult truths to one another, it will involve speaking truth to power, and we will always need to be accountable to one another.   

As for the second task to which we are called, sharing the vision and promise of the Kingdom of God, well, that may take some un-learning before we move forward.

In a book by Tod Bolsinger, Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory, the metaphor of the early 19^th century Lewis & Clark expedition is used to help the Church shape its engagement of the future. Tod asserts that as they prepared to cross the continental divide from east to west, Lewis & Clark hunched that what they would see on the west side of the divide would mirror what they had already experienced on the east side. That, of course, was not the case, and their Indigenous guide, Sacagawea, had told them as much. Similarly, Tod asserts, if we assume that Church life in the 21^st century should be just like the Church life that we grew up with in the 20^th century, and that all we need to do to be successful and faithful in future is to work harder with the old tools, we are dead wrong.  In order to live and share the good news of Christ Jesus in our current context, we will need to do so with our eyes and ears and hearts wide open, to learn about the lives of our neighbours. There is a huge need for the good news of Christ’s powerful, invitational, non-judgmental love to be shared, by our deeds and words, and that needs to be shaped by listening to those who have been wounded by the Church. That includes our Indigenous sisters and brothers and all our 2SLGBTQIA+ children and siblings who did not feel that Church was a safe place for them, as well as those who equate Christianity with the heavily judgmental versions that make the headlines.  Such is our calling – our version of being sent out two by two into the world.

As we engage in Christ’s ministry of health and wholeness and his transformative vision of a world made new, we recall the words of our United Church Creed (1968):  “We are called to be the Church: to celebrate God’s presence, to live with respect in Creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil, to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope”.  Listen to those verbs: celebrate, proclaim, live with respect, love, serve, seek, resist.  That is a powerful calling in the mess that surrounds us, as we remain in a state of alarm at the outrageous things are said and done on an hourly basis by the so-called leader of the free world.  At a time when it feels like all we can do is fasten our seat belts and brace for impact, we are still called to bring healing… we are still called to speak the hope of the extraordinary realm to come… we are still called to receive Christ’s love, and share it freely.  

Whether it was on the shores of Galilee some two thousand years ago, face to face, hand in hand with our young leader, Jesus, or with the risen Christ in the lands of the south Okanagan, we give thanks for the call to discipleship and all that it implies.  We give thanks for those with whom we share the calling, for those we will meet along the way, for the good news we have to share and all that we can learn from our neighbours.  And we give thanks for our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, whose liberative love brings hope, in this moment and always.  Amen.

References cited/consulted:

Bolsinger, Tod. Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory,.  Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 2015.

Craddock, Fred.  Interpretation: Luke. Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1990.

Naramata Centre: Healing Pathway. https://www.naramatacentresociety.org/community-life

The United Church of Canada: A New Creed. https://united-church.ca/community-and-faith/welcome-united-church-canada/faith-statements/new-creed-1968

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

Luke 4: 1-13 - March 9, 2025 - Lent I

A work detail that you never asked about and really don’t need to know, is that I typically write the first draft of a Sunday sermon on Tuesday.  This week, that meant that I was attempting to go deep with this scripture about Jesus and his testing time in the wilderness at the same time that heavy, constantly changing, falsely justified tariffs were being applied-then-not-yet-applied on Canadian goods by a the leader of a long-time formerly trusted neighbour.  To say that this impacted my reading of Satan offering that “all this can be yours if you bow down and worship me” would be an understatement.

Also on my mind while attempting to birth a sermon is an anniversary: two days from now is the fifth anniversary of the day when COVID-19 was declared as a pandemic by the World Health Organization.  Though our current days of scattergun chaos are very different from that global health emergency, I find my emotional life is in a similar state of disruption: I feel like I am in a constant state of alarm now, as I was in the early days of COVID, not knowing what the future would bring or what strategies would be best applied amidst the chaotic unknown.

It is strangely reassuring to overlay these daily realities with the age-old story of Jesus going into the wilderness to be tested. It’s not just a sense of “misery loves company;” it’s the sense that our connection with God-in-Christ is even more intense in times of desolation, fear and confusion. And even in the season of Lent, when Christ’s crucifixion on Good Friday is on the horizon, we know that the ultimate word in God’s story in Christ is the beauty and power of resurrection.  The sufferings of Jesus connect our souls to the divine, with the assurance that there will be emergence from the dread, as the power of life refuses to be subdued.

So: what about that wilderness experience that Jesus experienced? What can this metaphor from the gospel of Luke teach us in our time and place? How can it equip us not just to survive, but to emerge and even thrive? We start with our understanding of the word “wilderness”. 

In the days of Jesus, wilderness – specifically, the badlands east of Jerusalem - was a place of unknown terrors.  There were rumours of all manner of monsters and fearsome creatures that lived in the wilds, and some of that was true: lions, bears, wolves, leopards and serpents were among the wildlife there.  But more than that, heading into the wilderness signified that you had crossed the line from the predictable safety of community within the city walls, entering the unknown lands of storms and wild beasts and scoundrels.  You had gone from the land of “us”, the community of the comfortably familiar, to the land of “them”, the place of the fearsome unknown. Conspiracy theories, lies about societal trends, and blaming all of life’s shortfalls those who are different from the norm, are 21^st century versions of creating a sense of danger and alarm about the unknown.  We live in a time when we are quite rightly alarmed by the mean-spirited and outrageous actions of the 47^th President and others with outsized power, and that gets intensified by the insinuations of even worse things on the horizon.  The raw openness of wilderness is hard enough on its own, but keeping one’s head constantly on a swivel to watch out for unexpected threats is physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausting.

Alongside these dangerous aspects of wilderness, we know that wilderness was and is an important place of testing and growth. In the wilderness, either a physically “wild” place that tests us or a place of uncertainty where we don’t know what to do, you must face your fears and either overcome them, or find coping strategies to allow you to co-exist with them.  I think back 25 years in my own life’s story, the time when I crashed with clinical depression, and in the midst of that dark night of the soul it was clear that this place of emotional wilderness gave me no choice but to confront the cognitive distortions that were pushing me to the brink. Twelve steppers have often spoken to me about a similar experience in their lives, of not having the wherewithal to change until they hit bottom.  Wilderness forces us to confront ways of being that aren’t working, and find new ways forward.

In Luke’s account, we recall that Jesus didn’t just find himself in the wilderness; he was led there by the Spirit, immediately after his baptism by John, to undergo what Indigenous cultures would call a spirit quest.  In many world religions, this is the case: the leader of a new way needed to undergo a time of wilderness testing.  The symbolic forty days Jesus spent there mirrored a time centuries earlier, the legendary forty years of wilderness wandering by the Israelites, as God helped them learn the lessons of freedom.  I do not think that God intentionally leads us into heartbreak, but I do know that in those times when regret, embarrassment, despair, or unrelenting grief threaten to overwhelm, God points us toward that which we need in order to get through.  The sun will rise on a new day, even after the stormiest of nights.

Although it may not have been part of the context for Jesus, there is one more thing about wilderness that I need to mention.  For many people here in western Canada, wilderness is not in any way a bad or frightening word; quite the opposite.  Living in Canmore for twelve years, there were sizable rock-climbing and ice-climbing communities, back-country hiking and biking and skiing and snowshoeing were part of what drew people to live there, and wilderness was a good word.  It was a place of recreation/re-creation, a place where your knowledge, experience, physical strength and problem solving were put to the test, and it was also the place where you escaped the falsehood and artifice of daily urban living.  In the wilderness, the space between you and God was not moderated by the internet, your ability to stay warm and get a meal did not rely on a furnace or an oven.  Wilderness, at its best, rekindles your kinship with the earth and your fellow creatures, and it can be a place where it is a lot easier to meet God.  

And that is one of the reasons why the Lenten study this year, is about the spaciousness of spiritual practices. Lent, this wilderness time, is a great time to find ways that get beyond the distractions and barriers between us and God, and go deep into the realities of the Holy.  Rather than the usual choices of fight, flight or freeze in response to the bizarre days in which we live, we seek ways to be present to the challenges by going deep with God and with one another, to find the hidden resources that will help us not just survive these tests, but find renewal, light and life.  If you can see your way clear to joining Shannon on this journey, it starts this Thursday at 3:30 at Oliver United Church, and from there will be alternating between Oliver and Osoyoos each Thursday.  All are welcome, bring a friend.

In conclusion: to me, it feels like we are living in days where we need to have our wits about us, much like the forty days of testing endured by Jesus. It strikes me as a good time to be “woke”, as the attacks on marginalized people and nations are real, and people of good will in this land and all lands are needed to stand against such tyranny.  One could even say it is a good time for us, as Canadians, to “stand on guard.” It is not a time to be alarmist, but neither is it time for avoidance or complacency.  It is very much a time to realize all that wilderness can offer in a time of real threat, as it pushes us to go deep with God, to be confident in the life-affirming light that God has placed in us, to recommit ourselves to be people who trust that the final chapter in the Jesus story is not death, but resurrection.  These are hard days but unlike the wilderness testing of Jesus, they do not need to be solitary days – indeed, they must not.  These are days when we lean into one another, and together lean into the abundant and everlasting love of Christ Jesus to help us through.  In all of this, we live with hope, gratitude, and the trust of better things to come.  May this be so: Amen.

For further reading:

Hultgren, Arland. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/first-sunday-in-lent-3/commentary-on-luke-41-13-4

Otto, Andy. “Lenten Practices”. https://godinallthings.com/2012/02/21/lenten-practices/

Quora.com: www.quoara.com/What-wild-animals-lived-in-ancient-Israel

West, Audrey. Commentary on Matthew 4 (gospel parallel to Luke 4). https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/first-sunday-in-lent/commentary-on-matthew-41-11-3

 

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

1Corinthians 12: 12-27 - March 2, 2025

Annual Meeting Sunday: preached by Greg in Osoyoos, Shannon in Oliver!  

Last Sunday’s reading (1 Corinthians 12: 1-11) and today’s reading follow one right after the other and, together, form one discussion about Christian Unity by the Apostle Paul.  In last week’s segment, Paul listed the spiritual gifts that different community members bring to their local Church and encouraged people to honour this full range of gifts, rather than bragging about their own. This, he hoped, would help a fractious group of Christ-followers in the city of Corinth to develop some “holy manners” and celebrate the diversity that was present in their faith community.

This morning’s reading builds on that plea for respect, using the metaphor of body parts working together in one body, that is, the Body of Christ.  Some of it is quite funny, with a hand, a foot, an eye, and an ear debating their importance, and Paul also talked about body parts that are more, um, private.  There’s an absurdist humour here that would be right at home in a political cartoon or Monty Python sketch: our squabbling as Christians is as productive as an eye arguing with an ear.  In this metaphor of the body of Christ and its varied members, I sense that Paul is not just talking about the local faith community in Corinth, but about the way the entire body of Christ either works together, or it doesn’t work at all.  

He writes (1 Corinthians 12: 26-27, CEV),

If one part of our body hurts, we hurt all over. If one part of our body is honoured, the whole body will be happy. Together you are the body of Christ. Each one of you is part of his body. 

The way that the joys and sorrows of others is shared by the whole is so true on the local congregational level.  The hurts borne by one are borne by all: when Church folks are grieving or in the midst of hard transitions, or when there is tumultuous conflict, the whole congregation is impacted.  Likewise, the joys and the God Moments experienced and spoken by one, are celebrated by all.  If we consider this dynamic on a larger scale, it speaks directly to the situation before us in 2025.

One of the three questions for our Interim Ministry time is, “who is our neighbour”? which also implies the question, “what are the needs of our neighbours”? This invites us to imagine how these congregations might address some of the needs of the south Okanagan.  How do we, as a manifestation of the body of Christ, share Christ’s love with others, beyond what we do in Sunday Worship?  {Osoyoos: Fortunately, we already have some answers to that, in the work of the Thrift Shop and in the energetic connection with Desert Sun that is now forming.} {Oliver: We can build on the long history of the Soup Kitchen and the community engagement with historic drives like the Christmas Hampers organized by the Knights of Columbus, and the more current support of the warming shelter in town.} These are great things for us to celebrate and build on.  How else might we embody the love of Christ? Are there, for example, ways in which we as Church could function as an “island of sanity” in this time of national and global high anxiety, or come alongside folks already doing this work?  As we seek to be faithful to our Christian calling, we also know a blunt reality: congregations that do not serve a key role in the community around them are already in countdown mode to their closure. 

This outward movement, this “drawing the circle wide”, connects us as a congregation to the townsfolk around us, and there is another aspect I would like to mention: the ecumenical aspect. When we were training for ministry at the Vancouver School of Theology, one third of the students were United Church and one third were Anglican.  The other third were everything under the sun: students who were Presbyterian, United Methodist, Lutheran, Roman Catholic and Unitarian, classmates who had grown up Jewish and Plymouth Brethren and agnostic, 20 year olds and 60 year olds, Canadians and Americans and folks from elsewhere; and in the midst of that glorious diversity we had instilled in all of us, an understanding that every ministry we would undertake had to be understood as part of the entire body of Christ.  As we work toward our Interim Ministry goal to build partnerships with Desert Sun in Osoyoos and St. Edward’s Anglican in Oliver, and be open to other partnerships as they emerge – we need to ask ourselves continuously: does this, or does this not, build up the body of Christ?

As we prepare for our Annual Meeting, then, a few minutes from now, a time which will focus on the past, present and future of this congregation, I pray for the wellbeing of all the Churches here in Osoyoos and Oliver, that they in their own way will hear the calling of a reconciling, loving and inclusive God, and reach out to broken hearts of all shapes with unconditional love.  Together, our United Church pastoral charge and Churches very different from us, are all called to loving, life-affirming service, and when we get it right, the Body of Christ is built up and our Lord smiles.  As we focus on our work as a local congregation, I pray for the wellbeing of The United Church of Canada as a whole as we approach our 100^th anniversary; and as one who believes that God speaks in many ways to the people of the world, I pray also for the health of all faith communities besides our Christian Churches.  As so much effort is being put these days by the world’s power-mongers into labelling people and pitting nation against nation, the more ways we can work together for the common good, the better.  Two thousand years ago, the Apostle Paul called us to respect one another’s gifts, even those we do not understand, and the tumult in the world today demands that we lift up the personhood of all ethnicities, all genders and gender expressions, all personal circumstances.  When we do so, we are Christ’s body.

And we hear Paul’s words once more:

If one part of our body hurts, we hurt all over. If one part of our body is honoured, the whole body will be happy. Together you are the body of Christ. Each one of you is part of his body.

I pray for health, wholeness, opportunity and joy for every bit of that body, and give thanks for the opportunities for service that God continues to present to us. Thanks be to God, Amen.

For further reading:

Vancouver School of Theology. https://vst.edu/about/history/#:~:text=Out%20of%20this%20exploration%2C%20Vancouver,officially%20became%20associated%20with%20VST.

Wheatley, Margaret “Meg”. “Islands of Sanity” outlined: https://margaretwheatley.com/books/restoring-sanity/

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