PAST SERMON 2009 #12
by Reverend Judith Alltree, delivered on Sunday November 8, 2009,
at the Church of the Holy Spirit.
Complacence VS. Radical Generosity
“…all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” Mark 12:44
Complacence has the power to kill: institutions, families, culture, the environment, even lives. Complacence means “self-satisfaction”: when we are satisfied with our lives and how we live them, no matter what we see of need around us, we ignore it. That is complacence.
Canada lost two young soldiers last week, neither of whom would we describe as complacent. They did not live lives of self-satisfaction; rather, in spite of the known risks to them and to their families they chose to join the Canadian Armed Forces, they accepted their assignments in Afghanistan, and within two weeks of their respective arrival in that country, they were dead.
Lt. Justin Garret Boyes and Sapper Stephen Marshall did not live complacent lives. Today we remember them, and the 131 other Canadian soldiers, young men and women in Afghanistan — the vast majority between the ages of 24 and 39 — and the countless thousands of other Canadians in the past 100 years who believed in something so profoundly, so passionately, that they put themselves at the greatest risk of all, and gave all they had to live on: they gave their lives for their country, for us.
A little less than 2 years ago, I was driving along the 401, heading east, when I saw emergency vehicles on the Victoria Park overpass. Assuming there had been a bad accident, and so near St. Andrew’s Church, I slowed as I drove underneath to check out the situation in the rear view mirror. That’s when I saw the Canadian flags draped over the side and realized a repatriation ceremony for Sapper Etienne Gonthier, the latest Canadian soldier killed, was underway.
I pulled off at Warden, the next exit. An ambulance and a small Parking Authority car were there. I pulled up behind the ambulance and the drivers explained the status of the motorcade and advised me to wait.
The ambulance driver told me that a protocol for these ceremonies was now in place for all off-duty emergency personnel. Drivers and staff would bring emergency vehicles to the nearest overpass to wait for the motorcade, to offer a salute to the family of the fallen soldier. There were never any problems getting volunteers.
A woman and her two sons (8 and 10 years old) pulled over shortly after I did. I told them what was happening. “Why don’t they just come home?” one child asked. “Because” his mother explained, “they believe in what they are doing. They are trying to make Afghanistan safe for children like you.” The boys were silent. More and more cars parked on the overpass, even blocking one of the lanes, but no one expressed their displeasure. Meanwhile on the 401, hundreds of cars speeding below us honked their horns and flashed their lights. The motorcade was kilometers behind them, but this was their part of the tribute. Everyone seemed to know what was going on. Car passengers waved, we on the overpass waved back.
And then the call came through the radio that the motorcade was very near. Toronto police cars, who pick up the motorcade from the OPP at the Pickering/Scarborough border, began racing down the 401. One police car stopped the traffic at the entrance to the express lanes – and although a line of cars built up very quickly, there were no honks of protest…
Off in the distance the 401 rises and we could see the lights of the motorcade coming toward us. Five police cars in a “V” formation led the way, followed by a long line of limousines and other official looking cars, military and police.
Then came the hearse, carrying Sapper Gonthier’s body. The police officers and ambulance drivers offered their salute. All the traffic in the other lanes on the 401 came to a halt and the noise of car horns was deafening. What moved me most was a small black-gloved hand, extended from the window of the car immediately behind the hearse, waving to us. Everyone cried, some of us hugged each other, the rest shook hands.
Most of us on the Warden overpass knew someone in the Canadian Armed forces in Afghanistan; Etienne Gonthier drew us together that day. His spirit and that of all the soldiers, men and women, who have served and died in Afghanistan — or anywhere — were with us on that overpass. When we dispersed, we all left changed in some measure. It is a moment I will never forget.
I do not believe in using the pulpit as a vehicle for my political beliefs, and will not be doing so today, but it devastates me each of the 133 times I have heard the news of yet another loss to our country. And it makes me think about what these young people were willing to give. They knew the possibility existed that they might die, and yet they were prepared to give their lives for something they believe so powerfully in.
Jesus sits down in a place where he can see the long line of offering receptacles in the temple. These are metal and shaped like trumpets. Into them people throw coins which clank inside. Large heavy coins make a loud clank. Small coins make a little clank. Listen closesly and you soon figure out who are the big shot contributors.
Jesus is not condemning the rich and powerful, but He is giving credit to the poor Widow, something that would not likely happen in those days. The rich and powerful gave out of their abundance; the Widow gave all that she had to live on. What was it that she believed in so powerfully, so profoundly, that she was willing to give it all up, in that moment?
When we believe in something, or wish to support an idea or cause, how much support do we offer? When we choose what we are going to give to support our parish of our time, our talent, or our treasure, how do we measure what we will give? Is it what is left over, what we won’t miss, or is it the most we can offer? Luke wrote: “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38 ) What you give will always be given back to you, in one form or another, a “good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over….” It is in how we choose to give that our reward is returned to us. If we are holding back, how can we expect a return? If we give joyously, openly, with abandon that is how it is returned to us: tenfold, as we are told. So full, so completely full, there is no room for any more and it spills over the top. That is how what we offer to God comes back to us.
These young men and women of our Armed Forces, and all of them were young, much too young, gave unstintingly of their time, their talent, and their ultimate treasure: their lives. They gave as the widow gave, all she had to live on. God does not expect us to impoverish ourselves, but God does expect us to be generous, to give from our hearts out of love, as He has given to us; as his own Son gave to us.
Because of the sacrifice of the lives of countless people in our country, we have our freedom, but it’s not freedom ‘from’ something; it’s freedom ‘to’ — freedom to be as generous with our gifts of time, talent and treasure as we want, as we can, as we are able. Freedom to offer all that we have to serve God, because all that we have been given has come to us from God: unselfishly, graciously, unconditionally.
Today we remember the Widow, who gave all that she had to live on; and countless young Canadian men and women who have given their lives, as Jesus gave his life: unselfishly, graciously, unconditionally.
AMEN.