09/06/2026
Today’s readings are about deliverance and restoration. This is the movement of the entire canon of the Judeo-Christian scriptures.
The old testament reading today (Exodus 12:1-14) provides a detailed description of the preparations for the event of the Passover. Passover marks the deliverance for the Hebrews from their captivity as slaves in Egypt.
The important part I think comes at the end: “the blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you live; when I see the blood I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.”
Don’t forget it!
This text is read in our calendar on Maundy Thursday during Holy Week. It is the day before we hear of the passion of Christ when Jesus becomes the Passover Lamb - the one whose blood becomes the agency for our deliverance.
We also hear on Maundy Thursday the description of the Last Supper. Jesus celebrates the Passover meal with his friends in Jerusalem and says, “this is my body, this is my blood, do this in remembrance of me.”
There is an intentional connection between the body and blood of the lamb, and the body and blood of the Christ, with in both cases the direction to “remember”. It is what we hear in the prayer of consecration every time we celebrate communion: “do this in remembrance of me.”
The act of remembering is foundational to our faith. Remembering the event of our deliverance is a critical piece of our liturgy. Like the Hebrews in Egypt, we all have things that we need to be delivered from.
You remember the story of Peter who steps out of the boat in the storm and walks on water towards Jesus. When he begins to sink, he cries out, “Lord, save me.”
Peter’s cry is our cry.
Liturgically we use the phrase, “Good Lord, deliver us.” It is most commonly used in the Great Litany which describes a host of things that we pray to be delivered from.
There are personal things like pride, vanity, envy, hatred, or hardness of heart. You might want to add to that stress and anxiety. Good Lord, deliver us.
There are more public things like civil strife, mischief, war, murder, and violence. Good Lord, deliver us.
There are more cosmic things like earthquake, drought, fire and flood. Good Lord, deliver us.
And there are spiritual things like evil and the crafts and assaults of the devil.
These are all things that we hear about in the news and should not surprise us. They are things that we are susceptible and vulnerable to and have experienced.
Deliverance doesn’t mean you are held in the prison of slavery in Egypt, but it can be something like being held in the grips of addiction which can paralyze us, take away our agency and start affecting those around us. It can be Tumbler Ridge or the wildfires this summer, or the landslides in Nepal. It can substance abuse, violence or domestic abuse. It can be the insatiable need to read the news, check the stock markets, or scroll social media.
Any of these things can be subtle and careful in how they creep in and take hold of us, and they have a powerful ability to isolate us.
But the movement of the scriptures is always about restoring community, recovering agency and dignity, and providing liberation.
This is expressed in all the gospel stories describing people who encountered Jesus looking for some sort of deliverance.
Today we hear in the gospel (Matthew 18:15-20) about naming the isolation created by something that oppresses us. It starts by addressing something very privately, personally and confidentially; then moves to bringing in witnesses that a small group can assist with; and ends with something much more public. By the time it gets to the last stage we see things being played out in media and it’s always messy. You don’t want to get to that stage.
Last month we had the opportunity to see two plays at the Stratford Festival. Two plays that were written 400 years apart but both addressed these themes of restoration and deliverance.
The first was Shakespeare’s The Tempest. It was a stunning and beautiful production that, amongst other things, is largely a story of reconciliation. It is a Jacob and Esau story, or a Joseph and his brothers story. An exiled brother, Prospero, summons all of his powers to bring his usurping brother and other opposing members of the court to a private place, a deserted island. Here, Prospero is able to confront his opponents and articulate the impact that their hurtful acts had on him. Through a series of events it all finally results in a moving scene of accountability and reconciliation.
The second was Arthur Miller’s 1949 play, The Death of a Salesman. It is a daunting tragedy that addresses the power of generational and cultural expectations placed one person, W***y Loman. These pressures affect not only his own sense of personal value and worth but also those his wife, Linda, and his two adoring sons, Biff and Happy. In both plays the moments of reconciliation are captured with such emotional credibility and vulnerability that they become palpable throughout the entire theatre. No audience member leaves with a dry eye.
These plays are still performed because they express the need for restoration and deliverance. They resonate with audiences across generations because they speak of alienation, disintegration and reintegration. They, like our scriptures, point us to remember something big - in our case we remember the source of a great and powerful covenant. Like Passover this divine covenant is sealed in blood and given to us as a gift: it becomes the vehicle for our deliverance. May we find ourselves always remembering this event because it is the antidote for our isolation, the foundation for our community, and the agency for our freedom.
- Paul Walker
Rector of St John’s Elora
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Photo Credit 1: David Hou. Stratford Festival, Death of a Salesman, 2026. Tom McCamus and Lucy Peacock.
Photo Credit 2: From left: Paul Dunn, Geraint Wyn Davies and Ashley Dingwell. Photo: David Hou. Stratford Festival, The Tempest, 2026.