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These are my notes from my ‘mini-sermon’ preached 10 years ago at the launch of AbbeyChurch on October 4, 2015. 

On that day, a small group of audacious and ragamuffin folk gathered first at Springridge Common, Fernwood’s permaculture garden, for a blessing of the animals led by Rev. Michelle Slater (she was the only ordained one among us and we’d ‘borrowed’ her from Oak Bay United, where she was minister at the time) - before we headed up Gladstone to the Fernwood Community Association’s Paul Philips Hall – which would be our home for the first few years of our life – an apt choice given the hall’s namesake’s  amazing community organizing work. 

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Today we’re recognizing St. Francis – that  zany, radical, mystical, talks-with-animals, gets-the-stigmata (that’s marks in his hands and feet and side), creation-loving, deeply and madly in love with Jesus-kinda-saint…

Those who know me know that I adore the story of Francis – who died – wow - 789 years ago this very day (ok – technically yesterday, it took a day to get news of his death to Rome to set his feast day).

If there were words to encapsulate Francis’ early life they’d be a love of rivalry and love of money. It was that love of rivalry which had him eager to go fight in the crusades.  And,  money – he had lots of it – son of a wealthy cloth merchant… and lived the high life and wanted more. 

Whatever happened to him in the crusades Francis came home a broken person.  Sometime in that brokenness, it was like he heard the voice of God saying: “rebuild my church” 

So, what did he do? – he stole from his rich merchant father and was brought before the Bishop on charges. 

At that point he said to the powers that be: Go on, take all I have -  and went out into the wilderness to rebuild a small ruined church called San Damian.  He might have been taking the what he heard from God a bit too literally.

Jesus, in today’s gospel reading – the reading always assigned for St. Francis’ feast day, says this:

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

Those could very well have been the words resonating through Francis’ mind when he walked from the place of privilege and comfort.  Perhaps Francis, even in his uncerainty knew that the Way of Jesus was one which, though not without times of immense difficulty, was one of freedom and lightness.

That’s Great.  Comfortable words that you hardly need a commentary for.  But they’re only half the story.   

There are two things in the text that I think are worth noting:

First - If we rewind the text back few seconds – Jesus’ words aren’t so comfortable – In fact we have some of the harshest words he ever spoke. Woe to you - doom to you cities… change. repent. You’ve missed the whole point of life.  It’s like he was speaking to a young St. Francis – cities placing trust in the ways of rivalry, power and money.  Was there another way?  

Second – and this thought came to me as we prayed through this scripture in silence at our Taize prayer on Friday evening. It struck me then that Jesus’ yoke may be easy – but it’s still a yoke – something that binds us to him.   And his burden may be light – but it’s still a burden.

Francis chose that paradoxical way of life – a life of following Jesus that was yoked and burdened – with holy struggle and even poverty.

These’s a quote I like – and it’s not really a sweet or comfortable one -  God comes to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.  

Some communities want to be the comfortable pew.   

Others want to send people out stir stuff up – you know, the social justice ones, the activists. 

I think that Jesus does both as he calls us into contemplation and action.

Both tensions are there in the call to Christian life – comforting the afflicted and, yes (though the language might be a bit harsh) – afflicting the comfortable.

And if that sounds tough – Jesus goes on to note that it’s quite simple. “I have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants.”

Pope Francis, who deliberately took his name from St. Francis said this “I prefer a church that is bruised, hurting and dirty because it’s been out on the streets.”

As we start this pilgrimage today as the Abbey - I want to ask you all this: Can this be a place to challenge the comfort – in the face of pain, injustice poverty – to be sent out (“mass”, the same root word as ‘mission’ literally means sent out)? 

Can this be a place for the weary to come to Jesus and find rest for their souls?

The theologian Tom Wright said this:  that we’re “Made for spirituality, we wallow in introspection. Made for joy, we settle for pleasure. Made for justice, we clamor for vengeance. Made for relationship, we insist on our own way. Made for beauty, we are satisfied with sentiment. But new creation has already begun. The sun has begun to rise. Christians are called to leave behind, in the tomb of Jesus Christ, all that belongs to the brokenness and incompleteness of the present world ... That, quite simply, is what it means to be Christian: to follow Jesus Christ into the new world, God's new world, which he has thrown open before us.” 

So this is our hope.  Drop the love of money and rivalry.  It's that that is at the root of all the violence in the world. Instead, come to Jesus, all who are weary and heavy laden and a life of deep and evocative spirituality, justice, relationship and beauty will be yours. 

No, not without pain – but so so much beauty as we’re held in Jesus’ grace and mercy.

Held by Jesus. 

We opened today with that lovely body prayer from another famed saint  (Patrick) - Christ be with me – Christ within me / Christ beside me and to win me / Christ to comfort and restore me…

So – two questions - share with a neighbour if you're comfortable:

1)  Today - do you need rest, a lightening of the load - do you need to be challenged? 

2) How can this community be sent to comfort this neighbourhood and city?  And challenge places of injustice, pain, fear?

 

Image: the earliest known image of St. Francis, from the sacred grotto at St. Benedict's cave. Public domain via WikiCommons