03/02/2026
In light of the terrible news yesterday affecting so many people in the middle east, The Most Revd Hosam Naoum, the Primate of the Episcopal Church in Jerusalem and the Middle East issued a Pastoral Letter.
He oversees the churches in the Diocese of Jerusalem (Israel and Palestine, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon), the Diocese of Iran, and the Diocese of Cyprus (Cyprus, Iraq, Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, UAE, Oman, and Yemen).
In his letter Archbishop Naoum states in part:
“Firstly, I call upon the global Church to join us in urgent, unceasing prayer. We implore God to protect the innocent—the mothers, the children, and the elderly—who are caught in the crossfire….
“Second, we must offer each other the sanctuary of Christian love….. our hope is not in the strength of armadas or missile shields, but in the Prince of Peace….
“Finally, we must remain 'Bridge Builders.' Even as diplomatic windows seem to slam shut, the Church must keep the doors of reconciliation open. We refuse to see our neighbors as enemies, whether they be in Tehran, Tel Aviv, or the military bases of the Gulf…
“…. I extend an urgent invitation to the wider Anglican Communion and all people of goodwill: Intercede for us now. The hour is late, and the danger is great. We remain “battered and bruised, but not defeated.”
It’s a powerful and beautiful letter and I commend the full text of it to your reading. Copies are available at the back of the church.
God loved the world; he didn’t condemn it.
God’s love is predicated not on the fact that the world was particularly lovable or impressive. The love of God was not delivered as a reward for good behaviour, or for a certain amount of faith, or a particular level of piety.
Perhaps the hardest thing to believe is the fact that God loves the world; even and particularly while the world seems to be very successful in creating such a mess of things. Why would God love this?
For some they may believe that God loves the world, but they exempt themselves from that equation. They think, “It’s all very well that God loves the world, but I’m not so sure that God would actually love me. I place myself outside of the collection called “the world” because I don’t fit in to the collection of believing people, or praying people, or worthy people. I don’t fit the mold of the church “type.””
The hardest thing for most of us to believe is that God loves the world, and that I am a part of that world.
Sometimes people say that amidst all the tragedy and suffering they have a hard time believing. Then on top of that there’s the Bible stories and the creeds of the church. “You believe that stuff?” they ask.
That virgin birth or the resurrection of the dead; or the great deeds of power - walking on water, feeding the multitude, raising Lazarus, making the blind man see. It’s hard to believe any of that when you take into account the scale of suffering in the world and you wonder where God is. If God really loved the world, then why wouldn’t he do something about all this mess?
Well, what is the role of God in the world? What agency does God have in the world? And what do you understand the event of Jesus coming in the midst of an oppressed and exiled people on the edge of the Roman Empire to represent? And what do you understand the event of Jesus willingly subjecting himself to the suffering and shame of a public ex*****on as a criminal on a cross to accomplish? Because this event, called the incarnation, the descent of God to fully inhabit the flesh of humanity, becomes the central event of the gospel writers and the epistles, and the focus of our worship.
We hear today about Nicodemus, one who was well versed in the scriptures, who comes to Jesus by night because he too struggles with these things.
It’s hard to see clearly by night.
The gospel of John has recurring themes about seeing, knowing, and believing; light and darkness; night and day; about giving and receiving testimony.
And Jesus, in the dark of night, begins to talk to Nicodemus about seeing things from a certain perspective; from the perspective of above.
Jesus says that no one can see these things without being born of the Spirit.
This “from above” bit is about stepping outside of ourselves for a minute and looking in from the perspective of God.
“No one,” Jesus says, “has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven.” So this is a bit of a unique perspective that maybe really only Jesus fully grasps and understands.
But Jesus shows us this perspective as he becomes the cursed one pinned on a pole and raised up for all to see.
In his conversation with Nicodemus Jesus recalls the story of Moses in the wilderness when the people were being bitten by poisonous snakes and dying, and everyone complained and said, ‘take us back to Egypt where we were slaves. At least we were safe there.’
And Moses asks God, “what I am to do?”
“Take one of those snakes,” God says, “make it into bronze and raise it up on a pole; and anyone who looks up and sees it will live.”
This is where the medical and health professions get the symbol of the snake wrapped around a pole, because it is an ancient symbol of healing and life.
Moses couldn’t explain why it worked, and it all seemed a bit outlandish to take the source of death and pin it up on a pole so looking at it became the path for healing. Who knew? You can’t make this stuff up.
Jesus becomes that serpent. Jesus becomes the snake lifted up on the pole. So even those who walked in the shadow of death, or those who lived in deep darkness, or those who were lost in the wilderness and wished they were back in Egypt as slaves, could look up to that cursed one on a cross and live.
The deliverance, healing, and living for those dying in the wilderness was not a result of their great works, or their belief, or their faith, or their piety, or their prayers. It was a result of them looking at or lifting up their hearts to see, in the darkness of suffering in the wilderness, the source of their death raised up on a pole. The psalm today begins with that great line, “I lift up my eyes to the hills.” Jesus raised up on a cross outside the city walls as the cursed one becomes the agency of life for the world. This becomes the symbol and demonstration of God’s greatest act of love: of inhabiting the world’s darkest suffering and redeeming it all. Every bit of it.
So, as we heard in the Bishop of Jerusalem’s Pastoral Letter, we do not lose hope, but hold fast to it, and we embrace it. Because this is the God who gives life to the dead, and calls into existence the things that do not exist, whether we believe it or not. Lift up your hearts. We lift them up unto the Lord.
- Paul Walker
Rector of St John’s Elora
Second Sunday in Lent
Psalm 121
John 3