Eighth Sunday after Pentecost [Proper 16] 2026, rcl yr a
WIS. OF SOL.12:13, 16-19; PS 86:11-17; ROM. 8:12-25; MATTHEW 13:24-30, 36-43
the creation waits with eager longing
This particular passage from Romans seems quite fitting for today.
The sky wasn’t quite as orange yesterday, as it’s been earlier on in the week, but the wildfires likely won’t burn down considerably, from what I understand, until there is significant rainfall; it might even have to wait until it snows.
This is part of a natural cycle—wildfires are part of the forest cycle of life and death, and necessary—Black Spruce cones, for example, need the heat to melt the resin that will allow Black Spruce seeds to propagate. Fire resets a forest’s ecology, taking out dense underbrush and allows for more sunlight, and more growth. Wildfires are a good thing for forests, and necessary.
What’s a good thing for forests, though, is not necessarily good for human beings. I’ve taken more allergy meds, and I’ve had an even more difficult time sleeping, on account of the smoke in the air; my eyes are itchy, my head hurts, and I get congested. We know that this amount of smoke has a negative effect even on healthy people; if you are immunocompromised, or you already have a condition that affects your breathing, you are at even more risk. The smoke from the fires will lead to billions of dollars in health expenses and include loss of health and life.
It seems an odd thing, in a way; why would God make the world in such a way that what is good for the forests, is bad for animals that breathe, and even worse for any living thing susceptible to heat and fire? Did God mess up? Did God get the variables wrong? Why not make the world in such a way that humans and animals got along better with the forests, and the necessity of fire?
Romans 8 is not a bad place to look to help us understand this. We are accustomed to idea that humankind doesn’t live up to what God might hope is best for us; Paul has been exploring this in his letter to the Romans for a good number of chapters now. Christians for the most part are accustomed to the notion that wth Adam’s sin, all humanity fell into sin with Adam; thus Paul will speak of the sort of sin that precedes our lives, as something that we inherit. We all live a far-from-perfect world, where social structures, and the politics of power, affect us negatively, and even give us opportunity to sin; but even if we were perfect, we can’t help but participate in a world of unjust structures that benefit us, whether we want them to or not.
Paul will also speak of personal sin, the sins we commit even though we like to think we have control over our actions: “I do not understand my own actions,” writes Paul “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. “ We get sin, both structural and social sin—that the world is not as it should be, and that we cannot take personal responsibility for much of it; at best we can lessen our own participation in those structures. Karen and I are part of a number of community shared agriculture programs, and this is good. They allow local farmers to farm in a more sustainable manner. But our diets are still not sustainable in the big picture. Even when we do what we can, it never seems to be enough.
But the notion that creation itself is fallen is a bit more of unusual idea—but that is what Paul is saying to us today. “[T]he creation was subjected to futility,” writes Paul “creation itself [is in]bondage to decay,” and “the whole creation [is]groaning in labour pains.” And so even as the forests renew themselves, we suffer as a result; and if we were to suppress all fires in the interests of human health (if we could even do that!) this would not be good for the forests.
Paul speaks of a connection, too, between a fallen humanity and a fallen creation. “[C]reation waits with eager longing,” but a longing for what? “[C]reation waits with eager longing … for the revealing of the children of God.” “[C]reation was subjected to futility … in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”
And does creation ever wait for the redemption of humankind. We are mired so deeply in social or structural sin, sometimes through unholy decisions by those whose decisions can impact a whole planetary ecosystem; add to that our own selfishness, our own complicity in things like climate change. We can see the result: creation falls in step with human sin, and it groans.
Because while these wildfires are necessary for the renewal of the arboreal ecosystem, they are also worse on account of self-centred human activity. Climate change, through drier and hotter weather, does make the wildfires worse. And God help you if you live in a northern community, or on a northern reserve. You may not get out alive, and it seems too, that even when you do, you may have to flee without support, and very little intervention and help; all things that could have been mitigated with better social support and fire mitigation around populated areas. Having chosen not to do that, human beings suffer, and out of no fault of their own.
All these things are connected: human sin, both personal and inherited, impact our relationship to the creation, which in turn has terrible consequences for ourselves and for others.
And so Paul speaks about a creation that waits with us for our own redemption: “creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God.” Does it ever! “[C]creation was subjected to futility … in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” Creation waits for us to be made perfect in holiness; it awaits a Godly peace, and a reconciliation that includes far more than our reconciliation with one another, and our reconciliation with God. When we are fully reconciled to God, and to one another, this will be good not only for us, but for the creation that waits for its own reconciliation with God, and with us.
The Gospel speaks, in some way, to this. We are asked to be patient. In God’s good time, and not in ours, evildoers will be pulled up like weeds, by the Son of Man, at the end of the age. It is not for us, in this parable, to do the weed-pulling; this is the work of God in Christ accompanied by the angels.
It would be inappropriate, though, to read this parable as a reason to kick back and to wait for God to sort it out; we have also been made stewards of creation, and it is our vocation to make good and holy decisions about the care of one another and the care of creation. This can include coercive laws and regulations, and changes to our own expectations and habits.
Though we would be reminded that any success here—in the full uprooting of evil—takes place in God’s good time. Paul puts it this way: Along with creation, we “groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”
And as we work away as stewards of creation, taking care of each other and the creation too, mitigating self-centredness and greed where we can, we wait with patience for the revealing of the Son of Man at the end of the age, and his making all things right. And we do so, in part, because God is already reconciled to creation in Jesus, in whom created materiality and spiritual reality are peacefully wedded together with the divine in the word made flesh.
In this, Jesus is a sign to us and pledge to us, in hope and in patience; Jesus is the manner of our own holiness and growth in faith, that even as we work to the benefit one another and the peace of creation, and as we wait for the coming of Jesus to set all things right, and even as it seems sin reigns over our bodies, spirits, and the created world itself, all is complete in the person and work of Jesus—fully divine and fully human, the source of our strength, and of our hope, and of our very lives—him crucified that we might live.
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.