Inclusivity

I speak to you in the name of God: Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, and Life-giver - source of all that is, and all that shall be. Amen.

This weekend, I had the opportunity to attend my first Parish Council Retreat. The retreat took place at Galilee Centre, in Arnprior - a beautiful, quiet, sacred setting. It was a good weekend, thoroughly enjoyable.

This morning is neither the time nor place to report on our deliberations in Arnprior. Nevertheless, and with the permission of Council, I would like to speak about one item on our agenda. The name of the session was "Benchmarks for Parish Success." Council undertook an exercise to determine how the members of Parish Council measured the success of our life together as a parish community. There were 14 different criteria that members of Council were asked to rank. In the end, one "measure of success" clearly topped the list. Almost everyone present ranked it as Number 1. I will read it now: "[Our success is measured by the] degree to which all people, regardless of gender, class, age, theology, or liturgical preference, feel included and welcomed."

This measure of success ranked higher, for example, than how we are perceived within the community and diocese. It ranked higher than the amount of increase in annual giving, or financial pledges. It ranked higher than an active, committed and effective leadership team.

Listen once again. The principal measure of our success as a parish - in the minds of 13 members of Parish Council - was the "degree to which all people, regardless of gender, class, age, theology, or liturgical preference, feel included and welcomed."

"... included and welcomed" - inclusivity.

For those of us assembled in Arnprior, "inclusivity" is a vitally important gospel imperative - an imperative that we are called to make manifest at St John's. Indeed, for me, it's an imperative that is made manifest here.

I use the term "gospel imperative" with a quiet certainty today. I do so because, it seems to me, that our text from John - our exceeding long text from John - clearly supports this view. Of course, the story of the Samaritan Woman - "the Woman at the Well" - contains a plurality/a multiplicity of themes, images, insights, and meanings. Nevertheless, I think it's fair to say that a principle theme of this text is "inclusivity." It is this theme that I would like to explore this morning.

The story of the Samaritan woman is similar to our gospel account from last week - the story about Nicodemus and Jesus. It concerns an encounter between Jesus and one other person. More particularly, it concerns a conversation. In both stories, the conversation follows a pattern - a recurring formula characteristic of John's gospel. Jesus makes a statement. Initially, the statement is misunderstood. Finally, there is clarification, and (at least in today's story) a subsequent clarity in the mind of the hearer. The conversation then is a process of sorts - the woman at the well is led "progressively" to deeper insight, to revelation.

In certain respects, the conversation reflects our own lifelong encounter with Jesus. Slowly, sometimes very slowly, we find answers to our questions. Slowly, faith begins to replace our doubt. It is a process of personal "transformation," of growing in spiritual maturity.

But what is it about this story that relates to St John's, and to "inclusivity" in the Body of Christ? The answer to this question lies in the person of the Samaritan woman, the one who is transformed by her encounter with a stranger at a well.

For John, the woman is a type, "a representative figure." She is the "quintessential outsider." The boundaries between this woman and Jesus are well fortified: they are vast - vast, and impenetrable.

There is, of course, the gender boundary. In antiquity, women did not inhabit public space. Public space was the exclusive preserve of men. If women did venture out to fulfill domestic tasks, they did so in groups, at certain hours of the day. Never alone, and never at noon. And never did they speak to men in a public setting. Before men, they were mute.

Obviously, this cultural norm, this gender boundary, is broken down - it is shattered completely - in our gospel for today. Other boundaries are similarly crossed.

• The ethnic boundary, separating Jew from Gentile.



• The purity boundary, separating clean from unclean.



• The moral boundary, separating the righteous from sinners.



• The cultural boundary, separating those at the center from those at the margins.

There can be no mistake: this "shameless" woman - a woman with 5 husbands - was marginalized. She was "radically excluded" from her society - "the least, the last, the little, and the lost." As one author suggests, she was "the most unlikely person on the cultural landscape" to be welcomed into the community of Jesus.

But she was welcomed. She was included. And not a word of condemnation passed from Jesus' lips. For these reasons, our text for today typifies "radical inclusivity." Furthermore, it clearly sets out a "benchmark for success," or faithfulness, for Christian communities. I believe indeed that our faithfulness will be measured by the "degree to which all people, regardless of gender, class, age, theology, or liturgical preference, feel included and welcomed" among us.

Surely we are blessed here at St John's because - as I mentioned earlier - "inclusivity" does characterize our parish community. Indeed, "inclusivity" is what drew me here in the first place. I believe it has drawn many, many others, and will continue to do so.

But we must be vigilant. We must continually acknowledge - with a deep sense of humility, and gratitude - that this "charism" (a charism of the community) is a gift of God. And we must recognize that we have been blessed in order to be a blessing. Like the women at the well, we are called to share this good news with others. To proclaim that God's love extends to every human being, and that every human being is invited to participate - with us - in this "dream come true."

In closing, I would like to quote briefly from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Coleridge wrote: "What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand."

Sometimes, you know, there are moments in this place, "corporate moments," filled with God - filled with light, and laughter, and friendship, and love - love floating on a sea of diversity, transpierced with tolerance. Love floating on a sea of diversity, transpierced with tolerance.

For me, it is like waking from a dream - waking from a dream about heaven, with a strange and beautiful flower in my hand.