August 16, 2026
Pentecost + 12
My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.
Please be seated.
Each of today’s readings has to do with people who might find themselves on the inside, looking out, or on the outside, looking in. And each of today’s readings suggests that the boundary—age for age and time for time—is, or ought to be, more permeable and more porous than we might ask or imagine.
In our first reading, the Israelite community is gradually making its way back from the Babylonian exile. Their homeland is no longer the place they left. It is unrecognizable. It’s been generations, after all. The temple is now being rebuilt on the foundations of yesteryear. But it’s a new thing. In the air are questions as to who is legally of their community and who is not; about those who stayed and those who left. There are questions of authority in the face of corrupt leadership; questions of who is included in and who is included out. There are questions about enemies and foreigners. And there’s lots of us and them to go around.
In our second reading, Paul is wrestling with the intersection of the Jewish community (and our ancestors in faith), and the community of Gentiles, to form the People of the Way, our early Christian forebears. The term Christian, for this community of faith, is only just emerging, used first at Antioch. So, does God’s ancient covenant with the Israelites still apply? Are they included in, in God’s great plan of salvation? Or does it all begin—and end—with Jesus? If so, how does that work? It would take several generations for the Christian community to be seen as a wholly distinct branch of the Jewish faith rather than as part of its continuing trunk and mainstream… a branch that upon dipping to the ground would put down its own roots—as some plants do—to live and thrive on its own, un-tethered to the great and former tree. And there’s lots more us and them to go around!
And to our Gospel. At the heart of the story is a Canaanite woman. The Canaanites were the people that the Israelites had conquered a thousand and more years before Jesus. So, they were long gone. But in the story as told, the term “Canaanite” would evoke the sense of enemy in addition to the sense of foreigner. Mark, the earlier Gospel writer, calls her a Syrophoenician woman: think a Greek resident of what is modern-day Lebanon. A foreigner but not an enemy. In any event, the instinct of Jesus’ followers is clear: “Send her away.” Never mind her plea; never mind her need. Again, us and them. Cut to the chase: Jesus wields some choice words against his disciples, dresses them down by pressing and mocking their meanness, praises the woman’s faith, and extends his healing to her child.
We live at a time wherein us and them may be the prevailing way in which people look at the world. We humans have this almost innate need to categorize and to contrast others with ourselves. To compare and contrast as I was taught in high-school. Which of these is not like the others? Indigenous. Non-indigenous. Citizen. Immigrant. White. Not white. Straight. Not straight. Christian. Which kind of Christian? Not Christian. We tend, it seems, as part of our worldview, to want to think about whether people are like us or not. So it was with the ancient Israelites. So it was with the followers of Jesus. So it was with the first Christians.
Worse than categorizing is the instinct to think of the other as having less access to God’s grace, mercy and kindness, less access to all aspects of God’s salvation, than we do. Or less privileged access. One of the things I hear in today’s readings is a lot of us and them. But the other thing I hear is the ancient struggle to embrace the fuzziness of both/and. The foreigner can be both a foreigner and someone bound to God. Both Jew and Gentile may live in covenanted relationships with God. And faith, of one form or another, may inhabit both those on the inside looking out and those on the outside looking in. Those truths are both fuzzy truths and messy truths. They’re imperfect truths precisely because they do not admit to the this or that of us and them. We may just have to love people we can’t stand!
In recent times, I’ve been thinking about this community and my place in this community. What makes me happy? What drives me nuts? You know, there’s something about this place that I love very much. And it’s something about just how porous, and permeable, is the boundary between the people on the inside looking out, and the people on the outside, looking in. Around here, that boundary is hardly a boundary at all, especially when we’re at our best. You look around this place, and you’d be hard-pressed to play the game Which of these is not like the others? There is just so much variety. You’d be hard-pressed to draw conclusions.
This is one of the most diverse and inclusive communities I’ve ever been in. Many different faiths are embraced in this community and not all of them are Heinz 57 Christian. And most of us, in one fashion or another, are foreigners who bind ourselves to the Lord. And on a good day, a day with a little introspection, most of us can identify both with the woman yelling after Jesus for help and with the disciples who just wished she’d just go away. I can see both sorts of figures in myself. There is, on the one hand, the imperfection of categories built right in and on the other a longing to welcome all to our precincts, to this table and to our God … without regard. There but for the grace of God… And I love that truth very, very much. So, the truth is, for me, that it’s good to be here, in this place, in the community of St. John’s, working out my salvation with fear and trembling, as Paul put it to the Philippians, and embracing the both/and of life and of all that that might imply. Fewer boundaries. Fewer hard lines. Less us and them. I hear that in Preston’s preaching. I discern it in how we live and move and have our being.
I’ve been researching my family tree. Mostly, I’m just curious. I’ve learned that you don’t get to choose your ancestors. They just are who they are. And some of them were awful. Now, I’ve always described myself as a Mutt —something not nearly as purebred as our daughter’s Chihuahua or Preston’s Frenchie. The wild oats were widely sewn, back in the day. Seeds planted all over the place. Roots that took hold all over the place. But I take a sort of pride in those roots. I’m not sure why. My family tree is littered with “deeply flawed” people. People of dubious character. People who did bad things. People who wanted to draw all sorts of terrible lines between us and them. And almost all of them were Christians.
Part of preaching, as I see it, is an obligation to lift up and to affirm the people to whom we are invited to preach. Preaching is always a privilege. So, to you: St. John’s is a great place in which to work out our salvation, to resist the impulse to other and to them and us and either/or and to greet the possibilities of both/and and of diversity and inclusion, with a profound sense of acceptance and welcome, kinship and friendship, wherever we can.
We won’t—and we don’t!—always get it right. But the ethic of Isaiah and the ethic of Paul and the ethic of Jesus, shared a desire to consider, accommodate, to include and to welcome. And that is our ethic here. And I say that both as a matter of inspiration, as I have found it in you, and aspiration, as I seek to find it in myself.
May the words of my lips and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to the Holy One, blessèd be. And may the church say “Amen”. Amen.
André Lavergne CWA (Pastor)
Honourary Assistant,
Church of St. John the Evangelist, Kitchener.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.