The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Fr. 
David Curry
	
	Christ Church 
	Hall, Windsor, NS  February 5 
	AD 
	2006
	 
	
	“Forbearing one another and forgiving one another”
	 
	Paul’s words go 
	to the heart of our life together in the body of Christ. What he is talking 
	about is our mutual forbearance and forgiveness of one another. That such an 
	exhortation comes from one who, to say the least, was hardly the easiest 
	person to get along with, only adds to the power of its eloquence.
	 
	Paul knows only 
	too well how hard we can all be to get along with. He knows as well how 
	difficult he himself can be for others. And perhaps, just perhaps, there is 
	that extra dimension of self-awareness in knowing, too, how hard we can be 
	on ourselves. There is not only the tyranny of our self-righteous judgments 
	against one another; there is also the harshness of our judgments against 
	ourselves. We are, after all, our own worst enemies. “An enemy has done 
	this”, as the gospel puts it; the enemy is ourselves. 
	 
	Epiphany runs 
	out in the themes of mercy and judgment. Today’s epistle complements and 
	illustrates the gospel. Wheat and tares grow together in the field of the 
	world. Wheat and weeds are there together, both the good and the bad. But 
	who can be sure which is which? What is weed and what is wheat? This is to 
	recognize the limitations of our judgments. “Let them both grow together 
	until harvest”, says the sower. God is the gardener and God is the 
	judge. Not you and not me. That is itself a great mercy. 
	 
	This doesn’t 
	simply mean the suspension of our judgment in the abdication of 
	responsibilities. We have the obligation and the ability to discern right 
	from wrong and, and by God’s grace, to act accordingly. We are bidden to be 
	God’s good wheat in the world of wheat and tares. But it does mean a check 
	upon our judgmentalism. Forbearing one another and forgiving one another is 
	the counter to our judgmentalism. Our judgmentalism is our presumption to 
	know what we cannot and do not know about others and even about ourselves. 
	We would put ourselves in the place of God as judge. We would presume to 
	have a total and absolute view when, in fact, our viewpoint is altogether 
	restricted and limited. We see, at best, “through a glass darkly”. To 
	know this is to be aware of the limits of our knowing. It is the beginning 
	of wisdom. It frees us from the tyranny of ourselves. 
	 
	The epiphany 
	here is the light of Christ made manifest in us. It is our self-awareness of 
	the limits of human judgment both with respect to ourselves and to one 
	another. But is all this simply a cautionary tale? Are we exhorted here 
	merely to a posture of skepticism? to a suspension of belief about the 
	possibilities of knowing anything and therefore about doing anything? No. 
	Quite the opposite. What we are presented with counters the cynical and 
	false skepticism of our age which would deny any objective view about what 
	is good and true while asserting as absolute its own relativism. And what we 
	are presented with equally counters the religion of sentimentalism and 
	self-righteousness which makes the church such a parody of itself.
	 
	At the heart of 
	Paul’s exhortation are these strong, strong words about forbearing and 
	forgiving. They impart an active quality to the virtues of “mercy and 
	compassion, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering” - 
	virtues which belong to our identity in Christ as “elect”, “holy and 
	beloved”. We are reminded of who we are in the sight of God. That is no 
	occasion for self-righteousness but for the deepening of our lives in faith,
	“put[ting] on charity, let[ting] the peace of God rule in [y]our hearts, 
	let[ting] the word of Christ dwell in [us] more richly”. In every way we 
	are drawn more fully into the light of Christ, the one who has come into the 
	midst of the world of wheat and tares, the one who illumines the darkness of 
	our hearts. We are at once convicted and comforted by the light of Christ.
	 
	There is a 
	vision here. There is an epiphany of our lives in the light of Christ. We 
	are given to see and to act out of what we are given to see. We are given to 
	see something of the forbearance and the forgiveness of God 
	towards us which compels us to forbear and forgive one another. “Even as 
	the Lord forgave you, so also do ye”. It is always what we pray. Our 
	lives are lived in the sight of God “from whom no secrets are hid”. 
	What we are given to see is the picture of his love for us. It counters all 
	our pretensions and all the presumptions of our judgmentalism. Equally, it 
	challenges our all-too-willing subservience to tyranny and bullying by 
	institutional authorities, whether it be Bishops or Synods or whatever, who 
	have betrayed the principles that govern their authority. Why?
	 
	Because it 
	opens us out to the greater mercy of God in Jesus Christ. “Love bade me 
	welcome”, George Herbert’s last poem begins, “yet my soul drew back, 
	/ Guiltie of dust and sinne”. There is the awareness of our sinfulness,
	Contrition that leads to Confession. The soul in 
	confession says to God, personified as Love, that “I cannot look on thee” 
	to which Love replies wonderfully, “Who made the eyes but I?” But the 
	soul in the deep awareness of its separation from God can only seek for 
	truth as justice, “Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame/ Go 
	where it doth deserve”.  “And know you not, says Love, who bore the 
	blame?” Our judgments upon ourselves would continue to separate us from 
	the one “who bore the blame” and whose mercy bids us “sit down and 
	taste my meat.” He is our Satisfaction. It means “forbearing 
	one another and forgiving one another”. It means, of course, 
	“put[ting] on charity.” It means “let[ting] the word of Christ dwell 
	in you richly in all wisdom.” It is, we might say, “all for Jesus.”
	For “whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the 
	Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”