Jesus Proclaims I AM! to each Forest

I AM the vine. You are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.

The Season of Easter is a time filled with excitement. We have witnessed the disciples, now apostles, preaching and healing; and the Gospels have shared resurrection appearances of Jesus. With resurrection fresh in our minds, we turn back to reflect on Jesus’ final words of wisdom given to the disciples. Jesus’ final words sound different and take on new meaning on this side of Easter. Karoline Lewis, professor at Luther Seminary, St. Paul Minnesota writes, “The Farewell Discourse is Jesus at his pastoral best.” Jesus shared much in his final intimate talk with the disciples, giving them what they would need to grieve, to understand what God had done, and the words to spread the story of Jesus Christ. Through the Gospel of John, Jesus proclaims a variety of I AM statements: I AM the Bread of Life, I AM the Light of the world, I AM the Door, I AM the Resurrection and the Life. I AM the Good Shepherd. I AM the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The final I AM appears in the farewell discourse, “I AM the Vine.” Lewis asks, “What difference does this image make as the last I AM revelation from Jesus?”

 

My initial thought of the image’s meaning is:

I AM the Vine. Rooted. Grounded. Living. Growing. Lifegiving.

But what difference does the image make and why is it revealed last?

 

Recently a beautiful living practice was shared with me that has helped me reflect on the question. It is a living practice that expresses a vine and branches idea. It expands the ‘I AM the vine’ into our context and speaks hope and resurrection to a people living in a world that is experiencing climate crisis. The living practice speaks to the heart and spirit of those trying to live faithfully in a sustainable way and taking seriously the stewardship of creation.  

 

I AM the vine – resurrected in DAISUGI.

Daisugi is an ancient Japanese forestry technique developed in the 14^th century in the Kitayama region of Japan. It is an example of silviculture; the science and art of growing and cultivating forest.

The practice chooses an established old growth tree, usually a variety of Japanese cypress. This mother tree is cropped straight across, removing its top canopy. Cedar shoots are grafted onto the cropped branches of the mother tree. These shoots are pruned every few years to ensure straight and knot free lumber come harvest time.

So the picture is a large tree trunk with strong branches reaching up, from what would be the middle of the tree there is a straight line – from here a whole forest grows on top of the other tree.

The cultivated forest takes 20 years to mature. At harvest time the strong established mother tree remains ready to grow the next forest.

Forests that are nourished from Mother Tree mature quicker and produce more wood than other cedar forests. The wood is more flexile, denser, and stronger than standard cedar. This process has created a sustainable supply of raw material for over 700 years.

 

Revisiting Jesus’ statement, I AM the Vine, during the season of Easter, brings forward the promises Jesus spoke before his death and brings them into the realm of resurrection. This opens a myriad of possibilities for life, for resurrection appearances amid whatever the suffering and crisis of the day.  The All Creation Sings hymnbook concludes one of its creation prayers:

“In the name of the one who from a wounded tree birthed a new creation”—pg 47ACS

Here is the answer to the question, “What difference does this image make as the last I AM revelation of Jesus?” From a wounded tree – from the cross- I AM did not die. I AM rooted in all that was, and is, and is to come, is resurrected – I AM alive!  I AM a vivacious hearty vine with energy and love and wisdom to cultivate a forest of branches to produce abundant fruit.

 

Canadian forest ecologist, Suzanne Simard, in her book “Finding the Mother Tree” discusses the interconnectedness of trees and how -rather than competing for resources- they share nutrients and resources with each other. Mother Trees are relational, with vast underground networks connected over the centuries. They are energy and the source of ancient life.

Jesus saying, “I AM the Vine,” takes us back to Genesis with I AM moving over the waters in creation and the Word creating by speaking “let there be.” In the garden was the Tree of Life, a Mother Tree, connecting all the way through to I AM the Vine; connecting all the way to today.

 

The Tree of Life - Mother Tree, to the tree of the cross, to a rooted vine, to a faithful forest.

 

When I heard about the living practice of daisugi I was excited. I am a lover of trees. When I think about growing a whole forest on top of one tree, I am filled with so much hope for the earth’s future and its health. The abundance of this practice is astonishing. And to know that that forest matures faster, stronger, more flexible and durable, because of the sustenance flowing from the Mother Tree – amazing! And to know that the growing of a new forest can be done continually. Wow!

 

When I hear about the living practice of daisugi I am excited. I am a lover of Jesus. When I think about baptism and being grafted into God’s family, I never considered being grafted onto the vine as being that which has roots to the Mother Tree. Because of Jesus rootedness, the disciples matured – strong, durable, flexible- as they shared Jesus’ story with others. The early church grew quickly by their witness.

 

In our context, consider the living practice of daisugi as one to be practiced in the church. Would we be less fretful of what is and more hopeful of what will be, if we understood and experienced rootedness? If we considered our present congregation as one forest, in a line of consecutively cultivated faith forests on the vine, the Mother Tree, I AM? Can we wrap our heads and hearts around the living practice of every 20 years the beautiful straight and knot-free trees bearing fruit? Meaning cut into lumber; fruit is distributed and used, as the next forest begins to grow. It means that every 20 years we let go, in some way we let the church of the day give up its life to be resurrected again; resurrected strong, durable, and flexible.

 

Suzanne Simard wrote: When Mother Trees---the majestic hubs at the center of forest communication, protection, and sentience ---die, they pass their wisdom to their kin, generation after generation, sharing the knowledge of what helps and what harms, who is friend or foe, and how to adapt and survive in an ever-changing landscape. It’s what all parents do.

It is what we do as congregations as faith passes from one generation, or one gathering of people, to the next.

Sometimes we get stuck trying to keep the old forest growing, rather than harvesting the forest, sharing the fruits and letting the next forest grow. We forget that the forest was never meant to be permanent, only the trunk – the Source of Life- which continues rooted and ground and full of life.

The I AM the Vine is spoken as the final I AM because it is Jesus’ proclamation that branches will come, bear fruit, and die, but the Vine remains, as does the life that comes from the Vine – for it has a deep ancient source, the Mother Tree.

As Easter people we bear witness to resurrection appearances. We have witnessed life and death and life.

On this side of Easter, 2000 years later, we bear witness to the millions of forests that have grown from Mother Tree. The forests have embraced, believed, and lived the promises of Jesus brought forward into the resurrection. Jesus proclaims I AM! To each forest, Jesus proclaims I AM the Vine, therefore, YOU ARE!

 

Thanks be God. Amen. 

God’s desire: that Love-Unearthed shepherd human ambition.

 I have been disturbed since the beginning of Easter.

I was running through the courtyard of Dalhousie’s medical school and noticed new banners on the light standards. Printed on the banners is the Med School’s new mission tagline: where infinite ambition meets global impact.

I actually came to a complete stop to ensure that I had read the banner correctly; INFINITE AMBITION

I find the thought deeply disturbing and disconcerting. For weeks, I have wrestled with why it bothers me so much. It is not either word by itself. I have nothing against ambition, in fact I have been known to be ambitious because its how my dreams become reality and how my creative projects come into existence.

I have figured out that it is combining ambition with infinite that is the issue.

Infinite, according to the Oxford dictionary means limitless or endless in space, extent, or size; impossible to measure or calculate.

Add to that the definition from the Cambridge and American dictionaries for ambition -

A strong wish to achieve something; a strong wish to be successful, powerful, rich, etc. (Cambridge)

A strong desire for success, achievement, power, or wealth; (America)

Imagine a limitless and endless desire – quest- for success, power, achievement, wealth.

Imagine success, power, achievement, wealth that is impossible to measure or calculate.

That is disturbing!

When I think about the world – climate change, environmental degradation; war, aggression, civil unrest; displaced persons, and humanitarian crisis- are they not fueled by human ambition? ---An entitled voracious desire for more.

 

It is Good Shepherd Sunday and tomorrow is Earth Day.

For me, both days are resurrection appearances in a world prone to and comfortable with infinite ambition. Good Shepherd Sunday and Earth Day are intentional days that are grounded in community and rooted in relationship. Repeatedly the Gospels relate stories and parables, where Jesus confronts human ambition and flips-the-script, to reveal God’s aspirations for creation. Easter is the grand unearthing of God’s love – that which died at the hand of human ambition was resurrected by the grace of God.

 

My ambition is to be a sheep – said no one ever!

Sure, at church camp you may have sung:

I just wanna be a sheep: baa, baa, baa, baa/ I just wanna be a sheep, baa, baa, baa, baa/

I pray the Lord my soul to keep/ I just wanna be a sheep, baa, baa, baa, baa.

Don’t wanna be a goat, nope. ... and so on.

But it was sung as a cute ditty. I’m not so sure anyone thought about the actual meaning and how one would live that out. What does it mean to follow the Good Shepherd; to be a sheep in the flock of the Good Shepherd; to be shepherded in/with/and under the ethic of the Shepherd?

With rod and staff, the flock is redirected from human ambition that desires infinite success, power, achievement, and wealth. Sheep individually relinquish thoughts of “my “ ambition – my will, our will-  and graze on God’s will, God’s daily bread where there is green pastures and still waters.

 

National Bishop Susan Johnson and partners wrote for their: In Full Communion Joint statement Earth Day 2024:

“Earth Day is an occasion to call ourselves back to our relationship and responsibilities to this world that we are blessed to live on, and our responsibilities to one another to work toward an equitable sharing of the fruit and resources of God’s creation. A recentering of these relationships is increasingly important as we continue to experience the effects of a worsening climate emergency around the world, and so we join with faith communities, civil society organizations, community leaders and concerned individuals in lifting up our commitment to work for a truly sustainable world for all.”

 

I think I am disturbed by the thought of infinite ambition because in practice I can see it spiraling out of control. It sounds greedy, competitive, and consumeristic. It feels incompatible and contrary to the essence of Easter and the resurrected life to which we are called. The bishops articulate key components of resurrected living: relationship, responsibility, equitable sharing, sustainability, community, and commitment.

God’s aspiration for creation -

consider an idyllic picture of a flock of sheep – grazing peacefully together in a meadow – common wealth of grasses, flowers, air, sunshine, rain; shared experience of the absence or presence of predators; shared protection and care from sheep dog and Shepherd; all creation, human, animal, plant, the seen and unseen harmoniously sharing life abundantly.

 

This whole season of Easter follows Lent and Holy Week, a time focused on letting go, offering to God, laying down our will, standing at the foot of the cross, kneeling with humility, admitting I can not live by my own merit- I am broken, confessing there is that which is greater than myself.

Easter is waking up resurrected; broken-yet-whole. Easter is waking up resurrected and finding not just yourself but others in the flock who have witnessed resurrection appearances too. Do not be afraid. You are not alone. I am with you to the end of the age.

 

For the Earth, it is time for us to confidently and with intent, to let human ambition die and be resurrected into God’s aspiration and desire.  Humbly declaring, I just wanna be a sheep.

Sheep are givers, giving meat, milk, and wool; wool being a sustainable fibre that is durable, renewable, biodegradable. As a flock -when sheep live together in community, grazing together, walking the land together - they reduce the impact of climate change.

Amazingly a flock of sheep sequester carbon deep into soil, create healthier soil, fertilize ground, remove invasive plant species, replace herbicides and lawn mowers, increase biodiversity for pollinators and bird habitat, and support wildfire prevention.

 

Although human, we too can be like a flock of sheep, reducing the impact of climate change. Grounded in faith community, rooted in relationship we can live God’s desire –

 that Love-Unearthed shepherd human ambition.

In Full Communion partners invite member congregations to live resurrection, suggesting that members:

participate in neighbourhood and community Earth Day events and activities, advocate for effective climate policy, discern how a congregation can continue to respond, learn about carbon impact of one’s church building, do a Green house gas inventory; and pray for healing, solidarity and action for the sake of the earth.

 

Our commission for Good Shepherd Sunday and Earth Day comes from our Full Communion Bishops:

“This earth Day, may our faith in the promise of the resurrection move us forward in hope to take action together.”

--Chris Harper, National Indigenous Anglican bishop, Susan Johnson National Bishop, Linda Nicolls, Arch Bp/Primate

 

 

Resurrection Appearances: Coffee and Pastry or Tea with Cookies

 

The sermon for this morning begins on pg. 89 in the front of our hymn books.

The art found on this page sets the stage for the Holy Communion liturgies. This piece of art is a plain version of a colourful work created by He Qi (Huh Chee) a contemporary Chinese Christian artist. 

45 Supper-at-Emmaus Artist Proof (heqiart.com)

The work is titled: Supper at Emmaus.

 

What do you notice?

It is the evening, following the day the tomb is open. Time is conflated. In the upper  right corner you see the crosses and the tomb. You witness the women coming to tell the disciples the tomb is empty. You notice the town in Galilee where Jesus says he will meet the disciples. There, outside the door, it appears as if an eternal flame is kindled; the Spirit waiting. And in the foreground, you are invited to the table with the two who encountered Jesus on the road to Emmaus. Gathered with a group, Jesus breaks bread and they recognize him. Later, after this evening passes, Jesus will appear among them again and ask for something to eat.

What do you notice? Jesus is holding bread. On the table there is wine and a fish.

There are a couple of resurrection appearances where fish are the bread that is shared.

 

Over the years, I have encountered resurrection appearances…. not in fish dishes, but communion, in coffee and pastry, and in tea and cookies.

 

Dr. Elton Higgs, retired English professor, reflects on the resurrection appearances and the sharing of fish: Jesus made himself “available to them in the most common circumstances of human life, and though he had no need to sustain himself with physical food, he nevertheless shared with them in their ongoing need.” In the breaking of bread and fish, Jesus communes with the disciples.

 

In a field supervision course I taught, the students read Gordon Lathrop’s The Pastor: A Spirituality. Lathrop is a Lutheran and the work explores the sacramentality of a pastor’s life – and a theological perspective of sacrament in daily life. Students found the text difficult as it was a theology new to them and very Lutheran.

 

We begin in what we know. Sacraments -baptism and communion- requires two things: an earthly element and the Word. In baptism, that is water and the Word, in communion it is bread and wine and the Word. Through the Word, God is present -in, with, and under- the earthly element; and through receiving the sacrament one receives God’s grace.

Lathrop’s book explores what happens when the sacrament -God’s grace- is received and then lived out through the lives of those who receive it. This grace is extraordinary because it always comes and is embodied in one who is broken, not perfect. It is the brokenness receiving grace that is a resurrection to a wholeness that is a home for the incarnate Christ. It is a paradox – its sacramental-  to live in brokenness and yet be resurrected to wholeness. This being broken yet whole is the vocation of a pastor, the vocation of the baptized. Through Christ’s death and resurrection, when we gather as a community to receive sacrament, God’s grace settles into our brokenness and makes us whole. And this state of being broken-yet-whole changes how we are in the world; our lives can expand sacrament into sacramental living.

 

There are some who suggest that there is a third item required to make a sacrament: an earthly element, the Word, and community. Other than the account in the Gospel of John where resurrected Jesus meets Mary in the garden, all the resurrection accounts happen in community: the pair on the road to Emmaus who recognize Jesus with others at the breaking of bread; the disciples having breakfast with Jesus at the seashore; the disciples gathered behind closed doors when Jesus appears and says ‘peace be with you.’

Earlier I asked, “What do you notice?” The women were together. Jesus was at the table with two. The art also reminds us that resurrection is experienced in community.

What I have noticed over the years is a human need and desire for communion. What I have experienced is that for many the sacrament of communion is not here in the church, but is rather, through the hands of one who is fed here and goes -living sacramentally- and sharing of themselves in the world.

 

What I have noticed as a pastor is that resurrection appearances happen most frequently over a cup of coffee and pastry; or a cup of tea with cookies.

 

Perhaps you have experienced one of these resurrection appearances. Consider a time when you were with another person, either as inviter or invitee, and you met for coffee; a time when one of you was experiencing an overwhelming event – the loss of a job, a death, a family crisis, a health diagnosis, troubling news, a search for meaning, or a time of transition. Some circumstance that was difficult to talk about and emotions hard to articulate.

 

What do you notice? I’ve noticed that one never just starts talking. You get your warm drinks and pastry. You sit down together. You hold the warm cup in your hands and let the steam rise to your face. You take a sip or two. … and then and only then, in this communion, the one who is hurting opens up and shares at least some of the brokenness they are experiencing. In the conversation, and in the listening by the other, grace is given. Sacrament is shared as brokenness is met with wholeness.

In these coffee conversations, both people are changed, feeling better than they did when they met. This is the resurrection appearance. Resurrection is movement from death to life. In coffee communion, brokenness moves towards wholeness – a person’s grief heals a little, depression lifts a bit, confusion clears a tad… sacrament becomes part of life; the paradox of being broken-yet-whole.

 

This morning’s Gospel has Jesus eating fish in his resurrection appearance. Jesus has come among the disciples to bear witness to the power of communion, of sharing a meal, bread, wine, fish, …a cup of coffee.

Each of us is broken. Each of us is not perfect. And yet, the promise of Easter is that we through God’s grace have been made whole. The disciples embrace communion early on, when they meet, they meet over food with prayers. It is the practice of the early church. It is a continuation of the resurrection appearances of Jesus.

The Easter season reminds us and calls us to sacramental living – a sharing of communion – here and out there.

As you eat at God’s table and receive God’s grace, be fed and encouraged to be bread for the hungry – meaning commune with your friends, family, and neighbours by sacramentally living; participating in resurrection appearances. Be ministers of the sacrament of coffee and pastry, tea and cookies. Amen.

Resurrection Scars: Liberated from Perfection

 the watercolour/ink paintings in this blog post were painted by John Mueller (my father) and are part of my collection of his work

My dad was an artist who worked in watercolour and ink. A gentleman commissioned my dad to do a painting of his home. This man’s house was picture perfect. Everything that was wood looked freshly painted; the brass door knocker was polished; the gardens around the house were manicured; not even a blade of grass was out of place. Now my dad’s portfolio --- the works not commissioned--- were broken barns, old tractors, rusty iron fences and gates; each painting was full of surprise, beauty, and life.

My dad painted a pretty picture of the gentleman’s house, with every detail as if he was a draftsman. The best part of the pretty picture for my dad was the downspout on the eavestrough… it had a dent, like a lawn mower had run over it. That one section of the painting made the picture real. It was certainly eye catching amidst the perfection of the rest of the just-so-house. When the gentleman took a look at the painting, he asked my father to re-do it with a non-damaged eavestrough. Driving by the house a day later, the downspout had been replaced.

 

This story came to mind this week as I was reminded of the surprise, beauty, and life of Jesus’ resurrection. An article was shared with me that directed peoples’ attention to the particulars of Christ’s resurrected body. What did Jesus’ resurrected body look like? Was it perfect --- perfect in a Greek sculpture with precise musculature, smooth skin, proportionally ideal body kind of way? Was it a body made whole? What does wholeness look like? What is resurrection?

Although we don’t think about it very much because we spend far more time considering Thomas and his doubt and belief --- the description of Jesus’ resurrected body has been right in front of us all along. Perhaps, Jesus’ resurrected body, is the point of the story.

The scripture text from Luke describes the resurrected Jesus as having scars – marks from the nails in his hands and a gash on his side from the jab of a spear. Jesus’ resurrected body had scars. And it was the scars that convinced and comforted the disciples.

 

When reading the story from Luke, focusing on Jesus’ resurrected body, I learn a couple of important things – Easter good news kind of things! It is like looking at one of my dad’s paintings of something broken, old, or rusty and it being full of surprise, beauty, and life.  The proclamation of today’s gospel is that:

Resurrection has freed us from perfection and perfectionism.

Resurrection requires that one has been wounded.

And surprise -The proof of resurrection is the remaining scar- and therein is beauty and life.

 

It is like looking at one of my dad’s paintings of a broken barn, in contrast to a pretty picture of a so-called perfect house.

The pretty picture of the so-called perfect house is flat, without personality or character. It feels unlived in, unwelcoming, and devoid of story; a show piece rather than a home. It seems staged and thus cold, without relationships. It lacks heart. For me, although pretty, it lacks life or even the possibility of life because to touch it would be to disturb it.

Give me the broken barn any day. The broken barn tells a story, many stories, and although one may not know the individual stories one has a sense that the barn has history. It is real. It is organic. It has lived a long life. It has served its purpose. It has been connected to animals and people and creation. It is rich in colour and there is beauty in the worn timbers and crooked parapets, and life in the grass growing between the floor boards and the wind whistling through the open haylofts. There is movement in the brokenness. There are surprises to be discovered. There is history and story to think about and imagine. There is life -and beauty- amidst the brokenness.

 

The beauty of Easter -the good news- is that resurrection embodies the wounds of death, incorporating them into that which becomes life. Resurrection can not be separated from the experience of death. Resurrection carries the scars of being wounded. Life comes (resurrection comes) through the healing of the wounds.

Nancy Eiesland wrote in “the Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability“ that, “the foundation of Christian theology is the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yet seldom is the resurrected Christ recognized as a deity whose hands, feet and side bear the marks of profound physical impairment. In presenting his impaired body to his startled friends the resurrected Jesus is revealed as the disabled God.”

 

That final phrase is hard for many in a Western culture to grasp – in presenting his impaired body to his startled friends the resurrected Jesus is revealed as the disabled God. 

How often have you pretended to be okay or fine, completely put together, that you have everything under control? How often do you present a stiff-upper-lip, run yourself frantic being super-parent, or continually increase your production to be seen as more valuable at work? How often do we suck in our bellies, dye our grey hairs, cover our wrinkles?  

Humans get drawn into the sin of perfectionism, believing in some unattainable ideal of ‘perfect.’ We are held in bondage by striving for perfection as if perfection is the purpose of life. Jesus stands in the midst of the disciples, in our midst, resurrected with an impaired body, revealing a disabled God. Once again, just as Jesus did with the parables about the kindom of God, Jesus throws everything we think we know upside down. Perfection is not the goal, it is not a truth, it is rather an enemy that holds us in bondage, a bondage from which we need to be freed.

 

Wounded and resurrected with visible scars, God is radically identifying with persons who, according to the world’s view, are imperfect, don’t measure up, or are lacking in some way. Jesus’ embodied wounds give life and acknowledges that God experiences human life in what the world sees as weakness.

 

Author Lisa Powell, revisits Nancy Eieland’s book on the ‘disabled God,’ and in that reflection, argues that the able-body does not persist in the world to come; in other words, you will not receive a perfect body in heaven. She considers that wholeness -resurrection- is humanity journeying towards ever more transparency, vulnerability, and interdependency. Transparent, vulnerable, and interdependent -this is the body of Christ - this is a resurrected Jesus.

 

Scars are reminders that we have been transformed, and that wholeness has come through a process. We are who we are because of the deaths -the woundings- that we have suffered or continue to carry as weeping wounds that are in the process of healing to become scars in resurrection. Scars are an essential part of resurrected identity.

This Easter season, I invite us to move away from the perfect pretty picture of what we think church and church community should be, and what a perfect world is, and rather, 

fully embrace the broken, the old, and the rusty.

I invite us to be a community with depth and colour; beauty and life; a community that leads with our scars.

 I invite us on an Easter journey toward ever more transparency, vulnerability, and interdependency, evermore becoming the resurrected body of Christ. 

May this journey minister to and heal the wounds encountered in the community, in the neighbourhood, in the city, in the country, in the world, and in all creation; and may we be surprised on that day when the sun rises to find that wounds have been healed as resurrection has dawned bearing beautiful scars.

 

God Is Known- Eye to Eye, Heart to Heart

 

The following lines from today’s scripture weave together in my mind.

 

I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts… no longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me.  Jer. 31: 33-34

 

Greeks came to Philip and said, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Jn 12: 21

 

I have here a wooden box. It is a very special wooden box. It is filled with cards, photos, and a few other odds and ends. But it is anything but simply cards and photos. 98% of what is in this box captures a moment in the life of family.

To open this box is to visit my heart. Everything in this box is within me, written on my heart:

The cards with my grandmothers’ handwriting – words of wisdom from both sides of the family;

Pictures of my parents as little ones, my grandmother as a girl- where the pictures if not in sepia tone looks like me;

Moments of joy captured, quirky looks and family hilarity, alongside funeral memorial cards;

There is a hand drawn picture from my grandpa after a stroke. There are tickets from a Maple Leafs’ game at Maple Leaf gardens.  Every item has a feeling. Every item has a story. Every item is part of my DNA.

I imagine this box to be what Jeremiah the prophet talks about with God: I will put my law within them, and I will write in on their hearts, I will be their God, and they will be my people.

 

The law within I learned from the people around me – honour, respect, gratitude, kindness, grace, faith; the law I live from, my ethic comes from the pieces that have been engraved on my heart.

The writing on my heart abound in encouragement, it is fun loving, wonder seeking, playful, educated, profound, acceptance. All these things are written in the eyes of those who look back at me from the photos – and there is acknowledgement of this passing of law and that there is an expectation on me to continue to carry and paint and plant and share that which has been created in me; a generation to generation gift of specific DNA and skills to contribute to present humanity and to the next.

The writings on my heart were put there through people living life… committed to family relationships,

for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…

 

When someone comes to me wishing to see Jesus, I open my heart. That means I tell stories. I open the treasures collected and inscribed on my heart. This precious box of gathered moments are instances of God come near, of unconditional love, of a way of living, of an ethic to aspire to.

This box illustrates that it is the little moments of captured bliss, peace, wonder, etc. that together create heart; not a big come see Jesus moment, but an accumulation of instances, mystery, feeling, wherein one know Jesus – experiences Jesus. When I hold the wooden box, I am fully satisfied, saturated by an abundance of feeling, totally embraced, and the fullness of which is beyond articulation.

 

When I was pondering this Sunday’s sermon I was running in the Fairview Lawn cemetery. Over the years, I have gathered with many families to bury and grieve loved ones. I thought about the captured moments of grace that are written on my heart because of my relationships with the people buried and those who gathered. When someone comes to me wishing to see Jesus, I open my eyes and look directly into theirs. Because I saw Jesus in the shared held gaze with those who I’ve buried in that cemetery and others: of the one who had to move to long term care, of the one with Alzheimer’s, of the one who journeyed through palliative care, of the one who worried for their family, of the one who sought forgiveness, of the one who had lost everything. These moments were ones that had no words, it was looking at each other eye-to-eye and witnessing the other’s heart – all the emotion, worries, pain, burdens, faith, hope, all one’s thoughts – everything captured in a moment. And in the passing our hearts back and forth – there was Jesus.

 

I have often wondered about the healings and miracles through the hands of Jesus, along with other intimate moments in his ministry: the woman at the women, the blind man, the woman who washed his feet with her tears, the demon possessed, one-on-one conversations with Nicodemus, Zaccheus, Levi. How much of the healing happened because Jesus and the other paused and looked each other in the eyes?; opening their eyes they saw each others’ hearts and everything written there. If you recall women, widows, the sick were considered unclean, forgotten, not to be touched; people that were overlooked and purposefully not seen. How much did the captured moment, eye-to-eye, write a resurrected story on the heart?

 

 

Greeks came to Philip asking to see Jesus. Did they ask Philip because they could see in his eyes that there was something there, something deep and connected? Could they see that Philip knew Jesus? Before Lent we heard the story of Philip calling Nathanael to come and see Jesus and Nathaneil does and becomes a disciple.

What is in our eyes --- what is written on our hearts? Through our eyes do others know Jesus?

 

I was at a clergy retreat with colleagues all of whom I knew. The speaker asked us to find a partner. With our partner we were to get comfortable and then look each other in the eyes – to keep looking- until the timer went 2 mins later. 2 mins is a long time to remain in eye contact with someone. I still remember the person I was paired with, I remember the flicker of light, changing visage, pooling of deep things. I still feel the compassion, grace, power, understanding, acceptance that passed between us. Forever engraved on my heart.

 

In a world where people are alone, where people are screen focused, where people hide secrets, where people produce their public persona, where people avert their eyes … there is no way, in this world, that those wishing to see Jesus will see Jesus.

 

My experience of Jesus – captured through the deep moments shared with others- is in my face this morning. I hear in the statement ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus,’ a call to be present. The scripture is encouraging and calling those with God written in their hearts to open the box; to allow ourselves to be conduits of God’s healing and miracles. We are called to face those who are alone, to turn off way from our screens, to let people in- secrets and all, to refrain from putting on a mask in public, to keep attentive and watching. For others to see Jesus we are asked to be moments that inscribe love, compassion, forgiveness – all through a look.

Living what is in our hearts, allows others to fill a special box, wherein all can have a change of heart.  

In changed hearts, those wishing to see Jesus will see Jesus.

 

Eye-to-eye, heart-to-heart, God is known and the Word becomes life:

God says: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, ad they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they hall all know me, from the least of them t the greatest; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

Thanks be to God, this is written on our hearts.

Amen.

Wilderness to Godly Kinship

 

I have just finished a book that I read through Black History Month, A Matter of Equality: The Life’s Work of Senator Don Oliver. Do you know who he is? Don is an African Nova Scotian – the first Black man to be a Canadian Senator: a lawyer, a speaker, a diversity advocate, policy maker; his work earned him 5 honourary Doctorates. He is a mentor, a hero.

March the 10^th is the commemoration day of two African Americans – Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth. Two women who were born into slavery and lived through the abolishment of slavery. Harriet is known for her work with the Underground Railroad – helping 300 or so people escape before slavery was abolished; and her home was a centre for women’s rights and serving the aged and poor. Sojourner Truth became a preacher and was a popular speaker who spoke against slavery and for women’s rights.

 

Reflecting on the bible passage from Numbers, a story where the people are in the wilderness surrounded by snakes- Sundays and Seasons resource says: “to survive a wilderness journey, sometimes we need a sign to follow. A bronze snake was raised high to counteract the poison of earthly snakes on the Israelites’ journey from slavery into freedom.” The resource draws a connection between the wilderness and Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth.

Harriet spent much time in a geographical wilderness, journeying South to North moving slaves to freedom.

Both women spent time in other wilderness landscapes: political, social, spiritual wildernesses where promises to Black people and women were not kept. The women remained witnesses – holding high liberating truth.

 

This resonated with me. The idea of wilderness beyond geographical wilderness. Through Don Oliver’s life’s work, he journeyed through many wildernesses and bore witness to Canadians, that the country, our systems, our politics, our laws, our society were, and in many cases still are, wilderness – where promises of equity, diversity, and inclusion are not being lived.

 

“to survive a wilderness journey, sometimes we need a sign to follow. A bronze snake was raised high to counteract the poison of earthly snakes on the Israelites’ journey from slavery into freedom.”

Lent is the season of the church year when we take time to reflect on the journey to the cross. The scriptures read are to help us wrestle with what hinders our relationship with God and gets in the way of living the way of the cross. We pause to address those things that bind us and keep us in bondage to sin. Perhaps what imprisons us is the poisonous snakes of: holding on to grudges, allowing actions to be fueled by anger, wanting revenge, believing negative self-talk, lacking courage to act or speak, failing to love our neighbour. The letter to the Ephesians describes the bondage as being, Dead through trespasses and sins … following the course of this world.

 

Don Oliver reflected that his presence in Canada’s parliamentary system was a constant reminder to him of the wilderness of inequity. He was a sign to follow in that wilderness. He put himself in a spot to address, talk about, bring to the forefront matters of injustice. He was a pillar of diversity, equality, and inclusion. Others in the system looked to him as a beacon drawing people away from the snakes and to keep the focus on working towards freedom; liberation – to lead people to a different way of being.

There have been many who have been signs in the wilderness, who teach, preach, and work to move people from slavery to freedom; whether that is individual movement or that of a whole people. These signs bring healing and life to all involved.

Today I wish, I pray, for a sign in the wilderness, a direction to focus on so that healing and life become reality.

 

The peoples of the world are surrounded by wilderness – war, tyranny, poverty, famine, systemic racism, climate crisis, loneliness. The wilderness seems to encroach on the hope and life that is in the world and in response humanity wraps themselves in fear, doubt, and complaints. These being a natural place for snakes to appear, all because humans get lost in the wilderness. Humans get wrapped up the situation and in self-preservation. Humans turn inward, protective; their energy is consumed surviving with none left for relationship with neighbour; they become suspicious of the other; the snakes are greedy; nasty; hopeless; they loss the bigger picture; become disconnected. The snakes multiply as people’s sense of being lost grows.

 

Numbers 21 shows a people in this wilderness spiral; where snakes multiply. The people complain to God – a God who parted the Sea before their very eyes, a God who took them out of slavery, a God who they see veiled in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night; a God who sends manna every day; a God who has delivered quail, and brought water from a rock-  they complain, “why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness: for there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” Their complaints are unfounded; in fact, there is a lie in this complaint ‘there is no food,’ in the same breath they admit there is they just don’t like it. The people are tired of the journey through the wilderness. They are losing sight of what could be, the promise of life, of a new way of being. They have stopped dreaming of freedom.

It is hard work, and at times seemingly impossible, for humanity to move from slavery to freedom; from human ways to God ways; from individual living to commonwealth living. The first part of the journey leaving slavery happens – slavery is abolished, and then starts the work of moving towards freedom – living it completely… but the journey (the work) gets stuck wandering in a wilderness where sometimes it is simply easier to forget about freedom and return to slavery.

 

At the heart of today’s scripture is the question: do we prefer to identify as slaves rather than people of God?

Are we so comfortable being in bondage that living into freedom is beyond us?

 

Lent is the season when the wilderness in which we find ourselves, the wilderness we encounter in the world, is disrupted by a sign to follow. The cross is placed front and centre as a focus to draw us away from the snakes and point us to healing and the possibility of life. The cross set in the wilderness is a beacon to encourage the continued movement from slavery to freedom.

 

The letter from Ephesians describes the movement: slavery, wilderness, freedom – and all of it though the power of the cross.  But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ …  by grace you have been saved, through faith and this is not your own doing, it is a gift of God.

For we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

 

Because of the cross. Because of the love we have received. Because of God’s relationship with us … even though we continue to walk around in the wilderness, choose to be poisoned by snakes growing out of fear, and continually return to slavery and bondage; God set a sign of the cross in the midst of the current wilderness; and calls us to move to freedom that is already present if we simply shake off the snakes; look up, refocus and live the freedom already gifted to us.

 

As a people let us live in the freedom of the cross – let us proclaim the liberated truth by living God’s kindom into reality. Together I know this can be so.

 

Sojourner Truth said: Let…individuals make the most of what God has given them, have their neighbours do the same, and then do all they can to serve each other. There is no use in one [person], or one nation, to try to do or be everything. It is a good thing to be dependent on each other for something, it makes us civil and peaceable.

May we live into this freedom: freedom from slavery and bondage to sin through dependence on each other; Godly kinship.

We Gather in the Presence of God who Gives Life

 

We gather in the presence of the God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. Rms 4: 17

 

On Transfiguration Sunday the sermon spoke of the Gospel of Mark and how Mark has three key events that are life altering experiences for Jesus: baptism, transfiguration, and crucifixion. In each there is a voice. God calls into existence. God calls, “This is my beloved.” By this articulation, saying the words aloud for ears to hear, speaking out in the open --- what did not exist comes into existence.

My beloved is born. God’s glory is revealed. Death turns to life.

 

We gather in the presence of the God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. Rms 4: 17

 

I am arrested by the thought of what doesn’t exist, especially when I consider the wonders that surround us: intriguing creatures like platypus, ostrich, sea urchins; new land created by flows of lava; and mesmerizing rainbows and cosmic dust. What could be called into existence that does not already exist? What a fantastical thought to ponder.

 

The nitty-gritty of this morning’s Gospel is that Jesus speaks of suffering and rejection. Jesus speaks quite openly about his death to come. Peter is rebuked. What is called into existence through Jesus’ words? Jesus articulates – calls into existence- divine things not human things. And calls the disciples, and hearers of the gospel to turn their minds from human things to divine things.

 

Jesus’ openness in talking about suffering, rejection, and death is a divine thing. It is honest and truthful and for the listener hits pretty close to home. All are topics humans tend to avoid. Avoiding conversation and reflection has humans wrapped up in bondage to the power of suffering, rejection, and death. We are filled with fear and anxiety. The more we don’t talk about suffering, rejection, and death -keep such things secret- we separate ourselves farther from community, God, each other, ourselves, creation. We make ourselves sick.

Jesus speaks of suffering, rejection, and death because the very articulation changes suffering, rejection, and death from the human attachment to them to a divine thing. Speaking of the events of Holy Week, Jesus releases the power that suffering, rejection, and death will have on him. He is no longer in bondage to the power held by the system, the authorities, the captors, the situation to terrorize him and his followers. He is freed from being captive to sin by choosing to articulate divine things and live in and toward divine things.

 

It has been suggested that Jesus’ rebuke of Peter in the form of get behind me Satan illustrates a continued need for Jesus to address temptation. Although no longer in the desert face-to-face with Satan, living life is a never-ending array of temptation that places our minds and actions on human things. Speaking the rebuke is a verbalized stance of obedience --- a bringing of obedience into existence. Satan is an important character in God’s court and in texts as Satan’s presence provides options for obedience and faithfulness. Jesus renounces Satan – the temptation of following the world’s ways. Many times between now and the cross, we will witness Jesus’ obedient words and actions, all rebuking the temptation to follow the ways of the world. And each time Jesus does this, the kindom of God comes closer.

 

I find it interesting that in the gospel the disciples and others are continually told to tell no one who Jesus is. Remember, coming down from the mountain after witnessing the transfiguration, Peter, James, and John are sworn to secrecy by Jesus. Others are not to articulate Jesus as Messiah, yet, Jesus takes control of the story. Jesus openly articulates who he is and what is going to happen; on his own terms, in his own style; today we might call it getting ahead of the press. Jesus brings into existence himself as the Messiah.

Everything changes after Jesus’ suffering, rejection, and death.

‘Getting ahead of the press,’ and bringing what doesn’t exist into existence becomes the responsibility of the disciples. The disciples become the tellers of the story. The disciples are faced with temptation – Satan in their face tempting them to human ways, rather than focusing on divine things. The disciples are given the option of obedience; to turn from fear, self-preservation, and leave the room where they have locked themselves after Jesus’ death. In the telling of the story, they speak of Jesus’ suffering, rejection, and death; where none of these human things have lingering power. They are living in divine things, in the power of resurrection and life.

 

I appreciate the reading from Romans this morning because it theologically reflects on what it is to follow after Jesus’ suffering, rejection, and death.

We gather in the presence of the God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

Paul reflects on the story of Abraham and Sarah in a way that sounds to me like Abraham embraced divine things.  Abraham’s faith did not weaken at the seemingly impossible promise that God articulated – to bring a baby to an elderly and barren couple.  Abraham trusted, no distrust made him waiver, and he grew strong in faith as he gave glory (gratitude) to God. Faith, trust, gratitude brought ‘hope against hope’ and life into existence. In this covenant between God and Abraham, Abraham chose to trust God in all things that he could not control, and to be obedient by taking responsibility for the parts of the covenant he had power over.

 

Paul’s articulation of faith, trust, and obedience brings into existence a Paul who acts remarkably in the face of suffering, rejection, and death. Consider the times Paul was imprisoned. Paul is face to face with Satan, tempted to lose hope, to fall into fear, to renounce his faith, to grab hold of the ways of the world and be a ‘good’ Roman citizen. Paul rebukes Satan and choses obedience. The stories of Paul in prison recount a focus on divine things: Paul is said to have sung hymns, prayed aloud, confessed Jesus crucified and risen, praised God, preached the Gospel to other inmates and guards.

What is called into existence through these acts is a freeing earthquake that opened prison doors, guards come to Jesus, prisoners are set free spiritually and physically, Paul is released into the world to continue as a missionary.

 

What is called into existence by the way you live your life? 

Do you rebuke Satan and chose obedience, focusing not on human things but on divine things?

Do you speak of suffering, rejection, and death – until all lose their power- and God’s kindom draws near; and the divine things, the power of resurrection and life are called into existence?

 

 We gather in the presence of the God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

As Reinhold Niebuhr prayed, we pray:

God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed,

Courage to change the things which should be changed,

And the Wisdom to distinguish one from the other.

Amen.

 

I Am Just Not Ready! Let's Just Move to Rainbows and Resurrection

 

I am just not ready!

It is an occupational hazard in those years when Easter happens early. March 31^st this year.

Ash Wednesday snuck up on me, us – it didn’t get advertised until the week before.

I am just not ready! My brain is working one season at a time; wanting to finish one season before putting the schedule together for the next.

 

The reading from Genesis has us standing outside with Noah, looking at the resplendent rainbow, and being told the significance of the rainbow as a sign of God’s covenant. Hearing this story now has two affects – one I want to just skip to Easter (the rainbow) and forget Lent; and a feeling that the rainbow is a great sign, but I have missed an experience and deeper understanding.

I am just not ready – I am not ready to tackle the scriptures of the day.

How can one interpret and talk about God’s rainbow covenant without first hearing, re-living the story of the call of Noah, the building of the ark, the call to repentance, the destruction of the whole earth -its people, its creatures- by flood? How can one interpret and talk about the start of Jesus’ public ministry without acknowledging on whose heels Jesus follows and not the just the imprisonment but the beheading of John the Baptist? A humanity destroying flood and the beheading of a faith leader…I am not ready to wrestle with either --- let’s just move to rainbows and resurrection.

 

I am just not ready! Perhaps it is because as one of hymns in the new hymnbook says, “for the troubles and the sufferings of the world…” My mind and heart have been saturated by a ‘humanity destroying flood’ – climate change, unkindness, greed; a rise in aggression, threat, violence, displacement, war; the ‘beheading’ of leaders and advocates who champion a different way, who disagree, who are outspoken… I am tired and not prepared to wrestle with any of this---- let’s just move to rainbows and resurrection.

 

If I was to ask you to tell me a story about a rainbow, I suspect most of you would tell me of a personal experience of the phenomenon. You would be able to recount the moment including: the sights, smells, tastes, the feeling you had, who you were with, where it was, what came before. I am pretty sure the story would not be, I simply looked up and there it was; just simple like anything else you might notice while outside.

The memorable rainbows are those that follow a deeper experience where your senses and emotions have been invested. Most of my memorable rainbow stories begin in harrowing, fear-filled, anxiety ridden moments experienced inside a storm. The stories involve torrential rain, excessive thunder and lightening, fast moving mud and water, and the inability to get to safety. And after this, when that rainbow graces the sky in all its vibrance and vitality, shining in front of the bank of moody clouds…

..I can feel it… the great sigh of relief expelled and my shoulders relaxing away from my ears…

…that moment is abundant in gratitude, there is pleasure and joy in the beauty, and a sense that all is well, and that all things shall be well.

The rainbow means less without the experience before. The experience of the rainbow without the emotions and investment before hand makes the rainbow in all its glory less meaningful, less visceral; in essence empty.

 

Maybe that is the gospel for us this morning, to take heed, that we take time to wrestle with the troubles and the sufferings of the world, that we take time to settle into Lent and do some hard work, self reflection, cry tears of repentance, suffer cuts and bruises, so that when we arrive at the glory of the empty tomb of Easter; it is a joyous Christ is risen, and not an empty tomb within ourselves because we did not invest in 40 days of time to get ready.

I began by saying “I am just not ready.” That isn’t entirely true – It is how I feel, however, it is exactly why Lent is a season. Lent is the gift of time. It is a season of getting ready- a season of preparation. We have time to build an ark, to ready ourselves as a container to carry life and salvation – so that we may sail the troubles and the sufferings of the world – addressing and dressing them with compassion, hope, and life. Sailing to the ends of the earth with the Good News of Jesus Christ, we can leave rainbows in our wake.

 

The other day, mom and I were having a conversation and talking about phrases that connect colour and feeling. Phrase like: ‘feeling blue,’ ‘green with envy,’ ‘seeing red.’ Through history, in various cultures, colours have been associated with feelings. It is no surprise that centuries ago the seven deadly sins each had an attributed colour: red for anger, orange for gluttony, yellow for greed, green for envy, light blue sloth, blue for lust, purple for pride.  A rainbow of sin if you will.

 

This morning the explanation of the rainbow as a sign of God’s covenant has been told to us.

For it to have a deeper meaning, let us take the symbol as a focus for our journey and reflection through Lent.

Let us take time with each colour and its corresponding sin and wrestle with how that sin affects our daily life and our relationships. By the time we work through and reflect on each sin, each colour of the rainbow, the hard work -the sweat, grime, and tears- should change us and our hearts; colouring our relationships in brightness and vibrancy. As we reflect on how specific sin affects our relationships with God, others, creation, ourselves – we sink deeper into understanding and come closer to living a colourful response to God’s covenant promise in the rainbow, the call to preserve life.

When the rainbow breaks out in front of the storm clouds, the vibrance of colour evokes a feeling of hope in a new beginning and joy in the possibility of the flourishing of life.

 

This year’s Lenten theme is lament and for Holy Week, the Valley of Tears.

We have a gift of 40+ days to immerse ourselves in the torrential rain of repentance and reflection on sin and our separation from the love of God and others.

We have a gift of 40+ days to journey through the tough stuff, the troubles and the sufferings of the world -so that we are ready for Easter, where the tomb being empty, is the rainbow of the Christ risen; and not simply an empty tomb in ourselves because we decided to avoid the storm.

 

 

Let us pray with a prayer from Julian of Norwich:

In you, Father all-mighty,

 We have our preservation and our bliss. In you Christ, we have our restoring and our saving. You are our mother, other, and saviour. In you, our Lod the Holy Spirit is marvelous and plenteous grace. You are our clothing; for love you wrap us and embrace us. You are our maker, our lover, our keeper. Teach u to believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Amen.