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Prayers for Luke 7:36-50

The following prayer was written by Deb Whalen-Blaize for the April 5 Wine Before Breakfast service in response to the text of Luke 7:36-50 where the outcast woman anoints Jesus.

Creator, Whole One,
who formed us, whole, from clay
and called us good;
Knowing we are broken,
knowing our ways are broken,
we come to be reminded that we are still good.
 
That we are loved
Even when we are sick,
when we are bankrupt,
when we numb ourselves.
 
In the face of a culture that expects us to perform,
to deliver, and to compete,
remind us again that you see us
already good, still good, created good;
 
Created to be loved
even when we are overwhelmed,
when we are fuming,
when we are losing our sanity.
 
We take this moment to let down our guard,
to pause our hiding and posturing,
to accept that you know exactly
who and how we are in this moment,
and to practice trusting that you love us -
that you always have and you always will.
 
(Moment of reflecting and opening ourselves to God)
 
What wondrous love this is that you offer us,
complete and full and rich and untainted.
It saturates all the places
where we are criticized and cracked
until we are full to overflowing.
 
When we are so full of this love
we long to offer it back to you in a meaningful way
But you are no longer a man travelling the desert
whose feet are tired and worn.
How do we demonstrate our passionate adoration?
 
You have said
that whatever we do to the least among us,
we are doing it to you.
We shall endeavor
to seek out the least and love them,
to give food to the hungry and water to the thirsty,
to welcome the stranger and clothe the naked,
to care for the sick and accompany the imprisoned.
 
We lift to you
the people and communities on our hearts
whom we love because you first loved us,
who are beloved regardless of their brokenness.
 
(Prayers for people and communities in need)
May each one be filled
with the certainty of your love.
May they find healing and wholeness,
confident of your acceptance.
 
We pray, too, for those in power,
those the world sees as the greatest among us,
but who you know are not without sin.
They, too, are only redeemed by love.
 
We ask that you persuade them, Lord,
to wield their power, wealth, and status,
not as weapons, but as tools to build your kin-dom.
May they contribute
to the healing and wholeness of your world.
 
(prayers for those in power)
 
May each of these,
know your love deeply,
be inspired to do your will,
and to act and decree with loving kindness.
 
Every day, God, we see our brokenness
and the brokenness of others.
If you marked our transgressions, Lord,
who would stand?
May your love fill us with such confidence
that we can meet the transgressions of others
with forgiveness and love,
tending to a cycle of healing
and breaking the cycle of brokenness.
 
May we, restored and full of gladness,
work towards the building of your kin-dom,
conquering pain with compassion,
overcoming fear with trust,
knowing we are nurtured and protected
by your love. Amen.

For more highlights on this text and others we’ve looked at this past semester, see our Instagram posts, other reflections, and the weekly emails.

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Collect Prayer for Luke 20:9-19

The following prayer was written for the March 29 Wine Before Breakfast service in response to the text of Luke 20:9-19, the parable of the tenants.

Creator who sets free,
you give second and third chances
and punish those who are dishonorable.
Open our hearts to heed your word
so that the vulnerable receive care,
those who have done harm
are held accountable,
and we might welcome you with open arms.
Set us free, O Gracious God.

For more thoughts on the parable of the tenants, see our Instagram post and the weekly email on this text.\

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Prayers of the people for Mark 11:12-25

The following prayers were written for the March 22 Wine Before Breakfast service in response to the text of Mark 11:12-25, which focuses on Jesus’ cursing the fig tree and the cleansing of the temple. 

God of power,
Your word brings life and death,
shapes the world into being
and withers that which bears no fruit. 

You invite us to put our trust in you,
To send our voices to you.
You invite us to believe that you hear,
And that the answer will come. 

And so we pray for the world
    and all who are suffering,
especially for those in Ukraine and Russia,
and for those negatively affected 
    by the new covid regulations. 

[Prayers for the world and for our country]

God of power,
you entered Jerusalem on a colt
and with an army of peasants.
You entered the temple, 
became angry and raised your voice 
and overturned the tables of injustice.

Tear down the injustices in our churches,
the university and our workplaces. 
Remove those who have abused their power,
bring to light antisemitism and able-ism.
Let exploitation and thievery to wither
so that restitution may grow in its place.

May your house once again
be a place of prayer for all peoples. 
May the university and workplaces
be places where all may flourish.


[Prayers for the church and the university]

God of power, you have promised
that if we say to a mountain 
‘Lift up and go into the sea,’ 
with hearts that believe and do not doubt, 
then it will be done.

But, O God, we doubt.
Our world is filled with 
mountains of oppression,
valleys of polarization we cannot cross.  
We are weighed down by heavy burdens
placed on ourselves and one another. 

What sea can hold these mountains?
How do we not also drown from our efforts?

Help us to imagine a different world,
a world where rulers humble themselves
and fight for the poor and oppressed.
Help us imagine a world
where we tear down mountains together
and where all creation flourishes. 
 
We lift up ourselves and those close to us.
Help us to trust in you.
Help us to believe your promises.

[Prayers for those close to us]

God of power,
we believe you hear us. 
May we trust in you. 

As we wait for your answer,
give us courage as we fight for justice,
give us wisdom to rest in your presence,
and fill us with hope.
Amen.

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Prayers of people from March 8, 2022 – based on the story of the Syrophoenician woman in Mark 7:24-30

Prayers adapted from those written by Luke T on this passage in November 2017.

Creator, Son, Spirit
Your Kingdom is for us
Your Kingdom is for all
God of all earth, all people, all relationships
We are hurting.
The earth is not as in heaven.
 
We keep power for ourselves, abusing it even.
We eat the bread and keep the scraps for ourselves.
The earth is not as in heaven.
Or we discard the scraps,
only giving away what we no longer want.
The earth is not as in heaven.
 
But we want to be inclusive
Included
Welcoming
Welcomed
We want to love
Be loved
Because your Kingdom is for us
Your Kingdom is for all
 
[Silent and spoken prayers for hospitality and inclusivity for the church and the world]
 
God of grace,
For the times we have excluded
The times we have withheld even the scraps
Withheld the warmth of hospitality
 
Withheld care and compassion
Equality and empathy,
When we have forgotten
Your Kingdom is for all

When we forget the outsider
The foreigner
The less equal
We confess our sin to You.
[Prayers of confession]
 
God of hope,
For the times we are included
The times we have been given so much
Felt the warmth of hospitality
The comfort and love of community
The times we have been empowered
And seen so clearly
Your Kingdom is for all
 
When we find your love
In likely and unlikely places
We give you thanks.
[Prayers of gratitude]
 
Creator, Son, Spirit
Draw us into Your divine love
Ever present
Ever welcoming
Ever submitting
Ever generous
Teach us Your love
Amen.

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At the borderlands – Sermon on the Syrophoenician woman in Mark 7:24-30

A sermon by Sylvia Keesmaat, preached at Wine Before Breakfast on March 8, 2022.


They met in the borderlands.
 
He: a travelling preacher,
who fed those who were hungry,
healed those who were sick,
spent his time amongst the poor villagers of Galilee.
 
She: a Syrophoenician woman
from the wealthy district
of Tyre and Sidon,
a Greek woman,
cultured, well-heeled.
 
Her people had the power that mattered:
access to the seaports,
economic control,
a hand in all the trade that
passed too and from his land.
 
His people provided the power
that had no status:
supplies, labour, and cheap food.
 
His people kept in poverty
by her people.
 
Her people: the powerful,
his people: the exploited.
 
They met in the borderlands,
as he sought respite from the relentless
needs of his people:
needs heightened by the exploitation
caused by her people:
sickness caused by the lack of nutritious food,
mental illness caused by the uncertainties
and violence of poverty.
A hunger for food,
a hunger for justice,
underlying the needs
that shaped the rhythm of his days.
 
Perhaps here,
perhaps in this house,
perhaps in this liminal space,
there would be rest,
there would be peace.
 
They met in the borderlands,
as she sought healing for her daughter,
her daughter left at home,
lying in a proper bed,
not the straw pallets common
for his people.
 
She sought healing for her daughter
in a world where daughters were disposable,
not usually worth a trip to a healer.
 
Did she know already that
Jesus had healed the daughter
of a synagogue leader?
Perhaps.
 
They met in the borderlands,
the woman of high status,
lowering herself before
this peasant healer,
begging in a way
that she had never begged
for anything before.
 
Was this because she sensed
that she had already taken
more than her due
from his people?
Did she beg because of her shame in
asking for more?
 
She, who commanded
and it was done.
 
Was she worried
about a refusal?
Or did she assume
that healing would be granted?
 
Was she surprised at his response?
Was she surprised at the hostility?
 
Or did she recognize the justice
in his words:
“First let the poor,
those you have exploited,
finally be satisfied,
for it is not good to take their food
and throw it to the well-fed dogs,
who have always had enough.”
 
Perhaps she saw justice in his words.
For her response
accepts the rebuke:
“Yes, but even the dogs under the table
can eat the children’s crumbs,”
she says.
 
Even the dogs under the table
can eat the children’s crumbs.
 
She is willing to forgo a seat at the table,
willing to be counted among the dogs,
willing to accept the crumbs
that are usually all that the poor receive.
 
They met at the borderlands,
where she willingly gave up her status
for the healing of her daughter,
where he willingly recognized
her well-chosen words,
and offered the oppressor healing.
 
He challenged her, yes.
But she also challenged him.
Who changed whom in the borderlands?
 
But perhaps there was more.
For Jesus’ trek into the borderlands
is bordered in Mark,
by stories about food,
stories about crumbs,
stories about leftovers.
 
Did the woman know that Jesus
had previously fed far more than 5,000
people with five loaves and two fish?
 
Did she know
that the whole exploitive economy
on which her people relied,
was being undermined by this teacher,
this healer,
who was able to take crumbs
and turn them into a satisfying meal,
into abundance for all who came?
 
Did she know that this abundance
was more than they could ask or imagine,
that twelve baskets of leftovers
were carefully gathered up,
that in this economy all were fed,
and excess was carefully gathered,
gleaned for the feeding of those who still hungered?
 
Perhaps she did.
Perhaps she knew that
at the table Jesus set,
there was always enough,
always enough for the hungry,
always enough for the overfed,
always enough for those who need healing,
no matter who they are.
 
And if she didn’t know this,
Mark seems intent on letting us know.
 
For when Jesus heads back
out of the borderlands,
into the land of Galilee,
he once again provides bread.
This time there are more than 4,000 people.
This time he begins with seven pieces of bread
and a few small fish.
This time there are seven baskets left over.
 
Numbers have meaning in this story.
In the first feeding, Jesus creates abundance
out of five loaves and two fish:
a minuscule amount to feed so many.
And there are 12 baskets left over:
one basket for each of the twelve tribes of Israel.
The leftovers of Jesus’ abundance
are enough to feed all of Israel.
 
In the second feeding,
Jesus begins with seven loaves of bread.
Seven.
In the Bible seven is the day of completion,
of enough,
of fulfilment.
This time, instead of creating abundance
out of the crumbs of empire,
Jesus is working out of the abundance
of the reign of God.
Of course there is enough for all:
there always was.
 
And there are seven baskets left over.
Even after all have eaten there is abundance for all.
 
But that is not all.
There were seven Gentile nations
named in Deuteronomy 7
when the people entered the land.
Seven Gentile nations to be destroyed,
seven Gentile nations
who were not to be shown compassion.
 
Could it be,
that after Jesus heals this Greek woman,
that after a Syrophoenician woman
is offered the crumbs from the table,
that Jesus is making a statement
about the abundance of the kingdom
being for those seven Gentile nations as well?
 
If the 12 baskets of leftovers are the twelve tribes,
do the 7 baskets of leftovers represent the fulness of the Gentiles,
all welcome to share in the overflowing abundance
of the bread of life?
 
Perhaps the leftovers of Jesus’ abundance
are enough to feed the whole world.
 
* * * *
How do we read this story?
We who have much
and we who have little?
 
How do we live into this community
that Jesus is shaping?
A community of welcome
for oppressor and oppressed,
a community of abundance,
where those who live with crumbs
are offered abundance,
and those used to abundance
offer to be satisfied with crumbs.
What do we sacrifice so that
there is abundance for all?
 
They met in the borderlands.
He challenged her world.
And she challenged his.
Both went their ways
with a fuller vision
of the healing on offer,
with a new vision of abundance.
 
Perhaps the borderlands
is where we should be.
 
Amen.

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Reconciliation and the Parable of the lost son

Sermon preached at WBB on January 11

Reading: Luke 15:11-32 (Parable of the lost son)

Many people feel connected to the parable we read today. No matter how wild or tame we’ve lived, we recognize how we’ve wandered from God and gone our own ways. We’ve demanded our share of what is coming to us and chosen to live as we’d like.

Yet, when we, like the youngest son, come back to our right minds, we return to God. And who is not deeply moved by the image in the text – the image of a parent who is waiting for us, who runs to us and throw their arms around us to welcome us home? Especially in this difficult pandemic season, this image of being embraced and welcomed is a powerful one.

But is the point of a parable only to comfort us? Shouldn’t it also challenge us and even make us a bit uncomfortable? And this is often where the interpretation of the second half of the parable moves: those of us who have followed God faithfully all of our lives – who have done all that was asked of us – are challenged to be less bitter and judgmental.

And while Jesus certainly commands people not to judge – and this is a real problem in the church and world – such an interpretation misses part of the messiness of the text and part of the invitation of the text to give and receive grace.

I want to acknowledge that it is the work of Amy-Jill Levine that helped me question my own understanding of the parable – her knowledge of the Old Testament helped me see that we should be surprised about the direction the parable moves.

First of all, Genesis tells multiple stories of two sons, like Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau – and it is the younger who chooses to do what is right. Yet in this parable, the younger son chooses for himself, choosing here to ask for as much as the father could give. There are questions about how appropriate it was that the younger son ask for his share of the inheritance – the version we read today provides, in italics, the interpretation that he ought not to have done so. The text here further explains that the father was good-hearted and loved his sons – and so the father gave in to him, allowing him to make a choice that had the potential for a lot of negative consequences – for both the younger and the older son.

You’ll notice that I’m gently prodding at what the text says about the father. One of the hardest challenges I find in interpreting this text relates to the beautiful image in the parable of the father’s welcome and loving embrace ––this image might shape our understanding so much of the text that we find it hard not to identify the father in the text with God. And thus it is difficult to question how good a father they actually are.

And while I can appreciate the image of God being a parent full of abounding love, I wonder how much of that appreciation has to do with my implicitly centering the story on me. Such an interpretation can easily center on how, on the basis of my own efforts, I came to my right mind and returned to God. Such an interpretation can easily shift to focusing on how I deserve the lavish gift of a banquet and being clothed in the best clothes while the consequences of our actions are ignored, including any harm done to others or how others might be excluded by our centralizing ourselves in the story.

When we look closely at the parable, we see that the older brother, as he is returning from a hard day’s work in the fields, hears the music and dancing. There was a feast going on without him – a feast that would have taken hours to prepare – to prepare the food and gather the guests. And no one in all that time had thought to let the brother know or invite him. And then, to add insult to injury, he needs to ask a servant what is going on: “Well, your father has prepared a great feast for your brother, because he is alive and well.”

And so, not surprisingly, the brother is angry. And he refuses to go in. The First Nations Version says that he refuses to go into the lodge, which helps me understand the weight of the brother’s refusal – he is refusing to go into the place that is home, the place that symbolizes welcome – for it has become a place of not-welcome, a place where he feels he has been excluded.

And so the son speaks angrily to his father: “Why can you not see?!? I have done all that you asked of me.” And in his anger, he distances himself from his brother, naming him not brother – but ‘this son of yours’ and accusing him of wasting all his money on sexual favours with women, an accusation that is not backed up earlier in the text. And so the older brother lashes out at the family who had wrongly hurt him.

And his father looks kindly on him. He does not address his son’s accusations, nor does he even acknowledge that what he or the younger brother did was wrong. Instead, he reminds him of the family relationship: my son, you are close to my heart. Your brother was dead but now he is alive. We must celebrate this return of the lost, we ought to celebrate the restoration of the family.

As Levine notes, the father’s words are an invitation to reconciliation. More specifically, she notes that in a family with two sons, “if we lose one, the family is not whole.” And so, she asks “Can we recognize that perhaps they can reconcile — perhaps not from repentance, but perhaps because of expediency? There might be something here as well — do we have to wait for someone to say ‘I’m sorry’? Perhaps we can be generous enough to say, ‘You’re welcome. Welcome home. You’re part of the family.’” [Levine: ‘Prodigal son’ forces reassessment of Bible’s other brother pairs]

I find this a beautiful invitation: choose grace, choose reconciliation, choose celebration and God’s abundance. For God is deeply abundant – and it would be so deeply costly to lose a member of the family.

And yet, such an interpretation makes me a little uncomfortable if I place myself in the shoes of the older brother. The words don’t entirely sound like an invitation to grace and reconciliation and even God’s abundance. Instead, they sound like words of expediency and a sweeping under the rug of things gone wrong. How much do these words not echo the words spoken too often by white people to people of colour – can’t we all just get along and move forward? We’re all one family, right?

In light of these questions, the words of the father feel empty – there has been no apology and no talk of consequences, an empty promise of land and freedom with no true listening to the brother’s hurt regarding how the rest of his family had taken from him.

How often must those who have been harmed cry out: Can you not see?!? Why are you not listening?!?

The parable has no happy ending. Sure, there is a feast and celebration – but there’s no guarantee that the family will come back together. No guarantee that the younger son and father will provide restitution for their actions or that the older brother will be reconciled.

It is a messy story, and yet, because of that it fits with our world today.

For many things in life, there are no simple explanations and no simple solutions. Even our pictures of God are not as simple as we’d like – even if I believe the image of God as loving and abundant is true that does not mean all have experienced God to be that way.

And there is no simplistic solution for resolving the damage that we as humans have done to each other.

And yet, there is hope in that. For it forces us to long for grace – grace given to us by God, who when asked to reconcile always says yes. God always works to bring us back to their open arms and welcomes us home – and yet that welcome is also an invitation into the hard work of restitution and forgiveness, of pointing out to each other when we do not see and responding humbly when we recognize how we have not listened to others.

Thankfully we have the Holy Spirit working in us, and we have the rest of God’s family, who are spread from east to west, to help us as we make this challenging journey.

May we trust that God’s ever abounding grace will be with us along each step of the way.

In the name of the Father, the son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

– Brenda Kronemeijer-Heyink

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December 2021 Update

Once again we are inviting you to support us in our work at the University of Toronto. Through Wine Before Breakfast and Graduate Christian Fellowship, we challenge, mentor, and enable students to think, work, and live as Christian disciples in the academy and in their professions. Through wrestling with Scripture and difficult topics, we invite people into radical Christian discipleship, inviting them to rest in the hope of Christ and to participate in God’s work of bringing justice. 

The following words from Stephanie, an alumna of the ministry, give an example how God has worked in the past, and continues to work though this ministry into the present.

“I can’t express how much I have enjoyed staying connected via the weekly newsletter and the invitation to virtual gatherings during CoVid19.
This week’s topic [on politics] takes me back to a similar discussion held while I was on campus and there was a federal election. It was formative in my early walk as a Christian and I keep going back to those nuances I took away from that session each time I consider an issue presented in the political fora.
Although I am not I’m able to be present in it, it’s an important reminder to me that my fellow brethren are out there contemplating life with the lens of their faith.”

Grateful for how God uses this ministry to bless people’s lives, from generation to generation of students, we want to thank you for your support and participation, as well as invite you to partner financially with us in the shaping of a vibrant Christian community and witness at the University of Toronto and the wider city. 

For more detailed update about this past fall at Graduate Christian Fellowship and Wine Before Breakfast, including how we’ve been meeting in person, see the newsletter.

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Imposter syndrome and trust

InterVarsity’s Emerging Scholars Network recently published a helpful post about imposter syndrome and how it gets in the way of our trusting God fully. More specifically,

The core problem isn’t that we feel bad about ourselves but that Imposter syndrome distracts from action. Fear and inadequacy are like weights around our ankles preventing us from running full speed by keeping our eyes fixed on our inadequacy. As long as we’re preoccupied with our inability rather than God’s ability, we will live a life of fearful restraint and small goals, never plunging deep into the waters of faith. Imposter syndrome stands between us and following God’s call, convincing us we’re not good or able enough.

Denise Margaret Thompson

To hear more about the challenges of imposter syndrome, I encourage you to read the full article: Imposter Syndrome, The Bible and Grad Students – Emerging Scholars Blog.

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Elijah leaving – prayers of the people

The following prayers of the people written by Mike Walker were used in our Wine Before Breakfast service on October 26.

Gracious God,
God who comes to us in whirlwind and fire,
God who offers us both caution and courage,
We come before you humbly this morning.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we can accompany each other.
 
In our world, there are many doubtful voices,
Voices that cause us pain.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we can strengthen each other.
 
We intercede for many who need courage
and caution this morning.
We pray for those who seek to resist climate change.
We cry out for refugees and migrants
in Europe, the Middle East, and everywhere,
And we mourn with all those whose lives
are disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic.
We pray for our country of Canada as well,
Especially for truth and reconciliation
between Indigenous and settler peoples.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we may offer reparations
to our Indigenous siblings.
 
We ask for prudence like Elijah’s too,
So that we can use our natural resources wisely.
Give us Elijah’s wisdom,
and grant us large portions of your Spirit,
so that we can do your work.
(prayers silent and spoken for justice
in Canada, and in the world)
 
God of passion and prophecy,
We pray for our communities in Toronto,
And in every place where we are.
Be with our loved ones, God,
Especially those in physical,
spiritual, and financial need,
And help us to be with them too,
even from a distance.
 
Help us to support our street-involved siblings,
And all those who are marginalized.
At this time, in every way open to us,
We pray for our communities and our loved ones.
(prayers silent and spoken for our loved ones)
 
God who calls us out of our comfort zones,
We pray for ourselves.
Give us Elijah’s spirit,
so that we can sense your presence.

In our hearts,
with our mouths,
through our hands,
We offer you our conviction and our confusion,
Our faith and our fear,
Our longing and our love.
In all these ways, Holy One,
we pray for ourselves.
(prayers silent and spoken for our own needs)
 
We pray all these things in your name,
The name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.
Amen

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Subtle clues in the text: The word of the LORD in 1 Kings 17-19

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah comes exhausted to God. You would think that a prophet, especially one like Elijah who had done so much for God, wouldn’t need to be reminded of how much he needs God’s power and strength. Yet, if you look closely at the text, you’ll see how it subtly suggests that Elijah has been trying to do things for God on his own strength instead of doing things with God.

If you look back at 1 Kings 17 and 18 where we are introduced to Elijah, you’ll notice how often the word of the Lord comes to Elijah.

The word of the Lord came to Elijah to tell Ahab there was a drought, then to go to the wadi, then to travel to a foreign land where the LORD had commanded a widow to take care of him. And the word of the LORD comes to Elijah to tell Ahab that the drought will end.

On the way to Ahab, Elijah meets Obadiah and scorns how Obadiah has been serving God. And then there is the contest between Baal’s prophets and the LORD.

When the text has mentioned the word of the LORD in directing almost everything Elijah does, it is noticeable that in these last two interactions – with the other prophet, Obadiah, and with the contest between Baal’s prophets and the LORD, the word of the LORD is not mentioned.

God still shows up and sets the altar on fire, because God can still work despite us. But there’s something off with the story and the story ends in a strange way – with Elijah killing all the prophets of Baal. And while there are more times in the Old Testament where God commands people to be killed in God’s name, that command is noticeably absent at this point in this text – instead, there are subtle allusions in the texts to other killings – like that of Moses who killed the Egyptian and then also fled into the desert, fearing for his life. (Thomas Brodie, The Crucial Bridge, 12, footnote 18.)

These subtle clues in the text are confirmed with God’s response to Elijah. God does not directly tell Elijah that he is wrong, so much as Elijah is redirected and reminded that he is not alone, nor does he need to do things alone on his own strength. God provides a helper for Elijah in Elisha. God promises Elijah a new king, who will punish all those deserving of God’s judgment. Last of all, God reminds Elijah that he has never been alone – there are seven thousand in Israel who have not bowed down to Baal.

While our own stories are not yet fully written, may we still have the courage to look back at our own stories to wonder what subtle clues might be inviting us to imagine anew how God might work in and through us.