The Gospel According to the Letter G

 based on the Luke's version of the resurrection

 

Greeting the genitive glow, the graceful group of Mary’s gathered to go to the glistening garden with their grieving gift; grainily ground gums.

Going into the glum graveyard, the graceful group gasped.  The grave’s gigantic granite gateway – gone!

The group gazed into the gaping grave.

Gleaming gents gently gestured the graceful group to give-ear. Gregariously, the gents gabbed:

God-in-human-guise, the Galilean guru’s goal ---- grow and guide a group with the galvanizing grip of God’s grace.  Go through gritty grime of gross gestures, be gruffly goaded, and gravitate to gory gutting by guileful, gutless, and greedy – guides, gurus, generals, and governors- guys generating guilt on God-in-human-guise.

 Guilty!  So, gruesomely gutted!

 

Good Friday gone --- a grave grovelling ghost --- then genuine glorified regeneration!

 

Grasping the Gospel the graceful group,  -giggling, grateful and glad-  gossiped the guargantum good news to the Galilean guru’s guys.  The guys, gob-smacked, glowered at the graceful group, guessing the group gullible to the gents’ gabbings.

Good grief guys. Get-with-it! It’s God’s greatest gift of grace generously given!

 

Grappling the Gospel, Peter galloped, got going to the grave.  The guy, gloriously greeted by ground-breaking goodness.  The grave, gaping!

God-in-human-guise’s good grace, growing.  Groovy!

 

...it involves a canoe

 I have a parable on the tip of my tongue...

...it involves a canoe.

 

And as parables go it is most certainly a metaphor for the kindom of God, although I do not have all the pieces figured out; like the kindom of God, the parable of the canoe is a work in progress.

 

I started the week thinking about the storm at sea with the anxious disciples waking Jesus, demanding that he do something – this, set beside ponderings of World Refugee Day and the stories from past congregation members who were Displaced Persons from WWII, who boarded all kinds of boats and seafaring craft, hopping from harbour to harbour, seeking safe passage to far off lands to settle and rebuild their lives. The stories were of families boarding separate ships to escape quickly, ships that were sunk by the machines of war, hiding in underbellies of boats for weeks on end, months of rolling seas and motion sickness, witnessing deaths and burials at sea, and the wishing -praying- for land.  

I wonder where was Jesus on these ships full of refugees – where was he sleeping?

 Jesus, wake up and do something, please?

These are not the questions I heard in the stories of once Displaced Persons.

The stories were bone chilling, and yet, the deeper the cold penetrated the more the story included talking of faith, of prayer, of reciting psalms, of singing hymns, of experiencing the presence of angels, of feeling that one was not alone in the storm and chaos at sea. Jesus was already awake and in their midst; in the midst of putrid air, salt ravished skin, shrunken bellies, the infestation of rats, in sickness and in death. 

 

I have a parable on the tip of my tongue...

...it involves a canoe.

 

In my Bible, Psalm 107 has been given the title, “Thanksgiving for a Return From Exile.”

This morning we heard one of four cases presented in the psalm, the case of those fearing storm and sea. The others cases are: the case of those who hunger and thirst, the case of those in darkness and gloom, and the case of those suffering in sin and affliction.  Each is a vignette of deliverance where those in the circumstance described are redeemed  and all benefit from God’s saving work. The hungry are fed, the gloom-mired are liberated, the dead in sin are given life, the fearful are hopeful. The thrust of the Psalm -in praying this psalm- a congregation, the community, is to embrace and understand themselves as redeemed.

Redeemed is the starting point – regardless of the condition or case a remedy is at hand- God’s unconditional covenant loyalty, God’s steadfast love is at hand, present, and soaked in during the journey.

 

Okay back to the pieces of the canoe parable.

 

Getting in a boat, any kind of boat, other than a canoe, no matter how excited I might be for the adventure, how calm I appear, I start in a private fear that I will feel ill later on, and will need time to recover. I will likely get tired and grouchy and not be very nice to be around.

But put me in a canoe and I am happy.  I love canoes and canoeing. I do not get motion sick in a canoe.

With lifejacket on and paddle in hand, I settle into a canoe, legs crossed as I lightly sit on the front of the provided seat. I place my paddle in the water and with ‘j’, ‘s’, and ‘c’ strokes gently glide the canoe forward in the waterway. As I paddle, the troubles of life seem to drip off the paddle, swirling away in the eddies that flow from the boat. The canoe sits in the water, embraced by the water on either side; you can touch the water, move through it, see into it. With your own hands the paddle strokes can take you anywhere you want to go.

I realized this week I like canoeing because in a canoe I feel close to nature, as if the Creator is hugging the boat – and me, and together we are on a journey -an adventure of awe and wonder. I feel connected, at peace, that all is right with the world; canoeing is a moment of how I imagine God’s kindom to feel.

I also realized – much to my annoyance- that I like canoeing because in a canoe (for the most part) I have control.  And this is where the parable of the canoe should have a pithy turning of the image.  But that is beyond me... because I am stuck wrestling with the concept, and very real reality, that I like to be in control.

 

The hardest part of the storm and waves of the past year, for me, centred around control – or the lack of my ability to control circumstances. I was not in a canoe.  I was in some sort of a large barge, frigate, or ocean liner, being tossed about feeling sick, discombobulated, and not able to do anything to stop swaying or the storm.

The less control I feel that I have, the more anxious and fearful I become.

 

I guess I should have been praying from Jesus’ prayer book, Psalm 107, where the focus is to accept ones lack of control and wash oneself in the understanding and faith that one -that peoples- begin redeemed; that God’s steadfast love and covenant loyalty are at hand.  Having this prayer in ones’ heart, in a sense, controls one’s response to the case, crisis, or storm wherein one finds themselves. I can control what I pray. I can’t control how it will or won’t affect me when full of fear or find myself in short supply.

 

I have a story that I have told you many times before, it is of a man who set up a competition between two famous painters.  The painter’s task was to paint a scene that illustrated a true picture of peace. The one artist painted a lovely idyllic scene in soft pastels, with green pastures, a babbling brook, cute little sheep, and soft puffy clouds hanging in the sky.

The other painter painted a sparrow with her nest tucked tightly in the ‘v’ between trunk and branch.  The mama bird was sitting peacefully on her nest, seemingly unware, that the tree leaned out over a raging spring river, with white water overflowing the banks and swallowing the bottom of the tree. As the paintings were unveiled, the first artist was given praise for the peace presented in the work – the crowd relaxing sighed together. The second work received a gasp! How can this be peace?  In the end the second work won the competition ... peace and faith are confidence and assurance amidst the storms of life that you have no control over.

 

I have a parable on the tip of my tongue...

... it is about a canoe.

 

I remember a family canoeing adventure, where the river became too shallow for two people to be in the canoe.  My brother volunteered to take the lead ropes of the canoes and carefully walk up the river until we found deeper water. Mom, dad, and myself walked along the shore. All was great. Without having to portage the canoes we reached deeper water. My brother had done a great job, just wet to his knees.  As we settled into the canoes, my brother while trying to get into his canoe, somehow caught his foot on the side rail and fell into the river. He was soaking wet. You can have the best laid plans, and seemingly be in control ... until one is not.

 

I am still working out the parable of the canoe.  I am still working out my relationship with matters of control. I wrestle with taking the risk to let go of fear, and even with the strong possibility of sickness, to board the large barge, frigate, or ocean liner and encounter God, God’s covenant loyalty, and in the midst of storm – uncontrolled by me - to hear the words of Psalm 107 rise from my heart.  The same words used to compose the hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save, that has me cry every time I hear it. I lose control ... and it feels good as I feel waves of liberation and life and hope drown me.

 

And when in my happy place, in the canoe, here too I wrestle with control.  Sometimes I need to stop paddling -to let go – and see where God takes me. Or to let someone else paddle, the community sharing in the kindom.

 

I have a parable on the tip of my tongue...

... it is about a canoe.

 

...it is about God’s covenant loyalty and the fullness of the kindom of God.

 ... it is a work in progress.

 

 

Sprawling Is the Kindom

Today’s sermon is brought to you by the word:  Sprawling (spell out) 

In the Public Gardens there are a number of  sprawling rhododendron; one in particular – when standing at the bandshell, looking at the coffee house, glance right and there is a massive sprawling group of rhododendron.  What captures my attention with this group of shrubs – is its WELCOME.  It beckons children, to run underneath and through the little trails hidden inside; a dozen or more could easily be engulfed in the branches. The access holes are tiny, for those who are younger than three. Once inside the bush it is its own world.  City noise is hushed, the air is cool, and you have a birds-eye-view of the world from a hidden fort. The children have fun hiding from their parents and chasing each other; playing make-believe and running with fairies.  Besides the children, this section of the garden is home to all kinds insects – bees, and a variety of birds, including flickers – which I have not seen in too many other places in Halifax.

When I hear the parable of the mustard seed and the massive sprawling shrub that grows – I think of the rhododendron in the Public Gardens; their beauty, their shade, the laughter of children, the enjoyment by onlookers, the home provided for creatures of all kinds. It is a beautiful image for the wholeness of God’s kindom.

 

For those not so nature oriented, consider the image of a person sprawling on a couch, wearing comfy lounging clothes, everything they need – tv converter, cell phone, gaming equipment, snacks, beverages, reading material- all within reach; and bodily taking up every inch of the couch. The sprawl-er is totally in their own world and has no concept of being in another’s space or being watched; they just are enjoying, being, grounded in their space and time. This is the parable of mustard shrub; grounded - it is pushing its boundaries, expanding out, reaching.  Being in all its glory. This is an image of the wholeness of God’s kindom.

 

Today we once again focus on the prayer book of Jesus; this time prayer #92 – a Psalm that plants an image of the kindom of God, alive and expanding. The Psalm is really quite spectacular in its imagery and meaning. Praying this Psalm, is praying as in the Lord’s Prayer, ‘your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven.’

 

Psalm 92 is one of few psalms assigned to a particular occasion and more specifically a day.  It’s title is: ‘A Song for the Sabbath Day.’ And there are three important pieces to note:

The first are the references to creation. When the psalm says ‘your work’ or ‘the works of your hands’  the author is speaking to God as creator;  creating, being God’s work. Not only that, but if one reads the whole Psalm you will see that the name of God appears 7x in the Psalm. The creation story is laid out in the form that God took 6 days to create and on the 7^th day rested.  Creation -God’s work- takes 7 days.

The second piece to note expands from God’s work of 7 days – to focus on the 7^th  when God rested, the Sabbath.  A day when people offer prayers, music, worship in the house of the Lord – in the time of the Psalm in the Temple.

The third piece expands the image one more time by describing the courts of the Lord where creation flourishes – that is in the divine presence. The Mishnah describes this psalm as “a song for the world that is to come, for the day which is wholly sabbath rest for eternity.” The Psalm is eschatological.  Sabbath is not only the 7^th day but also a symbol of the ‘rest to come’, like our communion liturgy says, “a foretaste of the feast to come.”  At the feast, at the sabbath rest of eternity, there is a fullness of promise. Vs.14 states- in old age the faithful will still produce fruit and always be green and full of sap ---- the relationship and movement of creation, sabbath, creation comes full circle; in the fullness of time  – in the ultimate coming of the kindom.

 

Proclaiming prayer#92 is an act of faith – we declare God’s steadfast love while we wait for the fullness of the promise, God’s flourishing kindom.  It is images from Jesus’ prayer book – the Psalms- that Jesus draws on when speaking in parables -like the parable of the mustard seed as an interpretation of Psalm 92. And it is the praying of the image from this Psalm that keeps me hopeful and faithful when it would be so easy to throw up my hands and say, “I give up. I quit.” Today’s readings continue to foster hope in me because I can truly picture the fullness of the metaphor of the sprawling tree; some would call it naivete or wishful thinking but I do fathom the possibilities of the wholeness of creation and kindom.

After the hate, disrespect, lack of understanding, no effort at relationship that manifests itself through human life, and these past few weeks has been brought into the open --- Islamophobia, deaths at residential schools, it is so easy to for the image of kindom to be swallowed in shadow and be wiped away. However, the image of the kindom described using trees has been repeated so often in scripture – so often by me in reading scripture, hearing the image used by those around me, in liturgy, and in hymns; that there is a seed that has been planted deep down inside me, and in you.

I read this phrase this week:  “Once a seed is planted it is a mystery being revealed.”

And I suppose this has been my experience as I wrestle with the horrors of hate, racism, attitudes of superiority, being complacent in systems that hurt and destroy. Deep down inside seeds have been planted and unannounced to me they have grown– the kindom has put in deep roots and in times like these now wants to push its growth outward like sprawling of bush.  The kindom seeds want to expand -to sprawl- from me. Praying this psalm reminds us that we are growing – sprawling – from being in the divine presence.  And this is so important, as the passing on of the hope of wholeness, is an ever a greater task. It is difficult to see and experience hope in jungle of life. To proclaim the psalm, this psalm, is to act in faith of that which is not yet realized, and in recent weeks not seen.

 

So that you remember this point, if none other, I have left an important aspect of this Psalm to end the sermon. This psalm is communal in nature and values relationship. So much so, that talking about kindom is only talked about within an image and practice of community.

 In my ministry I have heard many people, in a confessional sort of way, tell me that they are not a church person, but none-the-less are a good person. I won’t argue that there are good people who are not connected to a religious or faith community.  However; being a good person is not the call of Jesus, or the call that comes from Jesus’ prayer book. Faith and call are not an individual activity. For instance, I am sure there were good people at residential schools, but that did not stop horrendous acts or the inherent evil in the system; even though good people, and actions that they did or didn’t do, may have momentarily made a difference, but, did nothing to address the overall horrors within the system. To change a system it really takes speaking and acting as a  community.

Prayer #92 confronts us with the fact that Sabbath is a community event, kindom is a community event – it can not be done alone, no matter how good a person might be.  The psalm makes this clear: when speaking of formal worship and praising God, there is a list of instruments playing, -lute, harp and lyre- one person can not possibly play all these at the same time – there is need of a group working together, listening to each other, to make sabbath music that declares the steadfast love of God.  Love is relational!  The kindom of God is relational.

 

Let us crawl in under the sprawling rhododendron. Breathe in this image of the kindom of God. Pray, ‘your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.’

Be blessed to expand the kindom, a Sabbath that sprawls into the rest of this week, sprawls into your way of living and being, sprawls through you where you continually face the troubles of the world, the irritants, human failures with a continued declaration of God’s steadfast love; making this declaration as an act of faith for the kindom yet to be... and praying that it may happen soon, in the present, as we work together in community.

The Gospel According to the Letter 'R'

 Right-off the reliable remnant, the requisite Marys, roamed to the rock-hewn resting-place of the retired, to realize the required requiem rituals.

The rock-face of the rock-hewn receptical was rendered reachable for the rock roof was rolled right away. Relieved the remnant reverently relaxed into the recessed resting-place; revealing a Rabbi-less room, with remaining relics - rags.

Rapidly the razzle-dazzled reaction reverted to review radiant revelators who reassured the remnant and requested reflection: "Why reach to reveal the resusitated in the rotting? The Rabbi is not in rigamortous, rather, risen!"

Remember the Rabbi's Rule: restoration resources, route to renewal, and rabble-rousing retorts that reaped ramifications recommended from renigade religious representatives and regal Roman rulers--- the Rabbi - restricted, ruffed up, ridiculed, ruined - ravagely wrecked! Remaining removed, to return, restored, raised !

The remnant realized the reliability of the radiant revelators recitation - the Rabbi's return, really real!

Rapturously rivited, the remnant rushed to relay the radical revelation to the Rabbi's ranks. The ranks retorted, "The Remnant is reveling in raving rambles. Ridiculous!"

Receptive Peter, rapidly ran. Reaching the resting-place, reconnitoring the receptical, realized no remains.  The Rabbi, resurrected!

Praying Politically Subversive Statements

 

Jesus went home; and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat.  When Jesus’ family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, ‘He has gone out of his mind.’    Mark 3: 20

 

Jesus’ family is worried about him, so they go to him – perhaps to see for themselves or to talk sense into him or to protect him from the crowds. There is real concern for people are saying Jesus is out of his mind while others are saying that Jesus is possessed by the devil. Jesus is certainly drawing attention and crowds: perf0rming miracle after miracle, touching the sick, eating with sinners,  casting out demons, and telling what sound like prophetic parables that include dangerous kingdom talk.

It sounds overwhelming, chaotic: imagine being surrounded by large groups of disenfranchised people those looking for God’s steadfast love by means outside of the Temple, the Temple officials wanting a return of control of power over the people, people in the margins needing healing and words of hope, the insurrectionists who think Jesus might just be the military Messiah they are dreaming of.

 

I picture a scene of:  logging protestors, anti-maskers, pro-Palestinians, Pride flag bearers, BlackLivesMatter marchers, drummers calling for truth and reconciliation, people placing pairs of tiny shoes for Indigenous children’s lives lost, all gathered in a park around the tents of the homeless and precariously housed – all there because Jesus has something to say or be for the cause, the circumstance, directly affecting their life. Arriving and standing on the sidelines poised, ready, are eager reporters, curious bystanders -phones out to record, and flack-jacketed law enforcement. And in the middle of this crowd is Jesus standing on a picnic table, portable mic in hand – speaking kin-dom truth, while the disciples act as body guards pushing the crowd off the table.

 

And this is why the Psalms (otherwise known as the Psalter) was Jesus’ prayer book;

and for the summer will be our prayer book, our focus.

 

This past week I was reading a blog about Bonhoeffer where the author described the Psalms as politically subversive statements. Continuing to say that Bonhoeffer – following in the steps of Jesus- used the Psalms as a prayer book; praying the Psalms led both, Jesus and Bonhoeffer, to actions that had them face execution.  Praying the Psalms is a powerful way to join in the work of God, the kin-dom, -- but it is dangerous to pray politically subversive statements.

 It is dangerous because, as Mother Theresa once said, “I use to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know prayer changes us, and we change things.”

 

The powers-that-be do like when ‘WE’  including any person I mentioned standing in the park around Jesus on the picnic table, change, and then change things. Praying the Psalms is a continuation of the revolutionary work of Jesus passed on through the ages in a community of Spirit joined by the steadfast love of God that endures forever.

 

Bonhoeffer in his book, “Life Together,” explains ‘the secret of the Psalter,’ where those who pray (not read, but pray) the psalms learn three things.  First a person learns what prayer means by praying the Word of God including God’s promises; secondly one learns what one should pray; and thirdly one learns to pray as a fellowship.

 

Over the years, I have heard two opinions about the Psalms, both opinions often held by the same person: that the psalms are comforting so should be used all the time, while others are over the top and should be entirely excluded. The Psalms present joy, that for some is too high; pain that is too sharp; sufferings that are too distant; expressions that are too harsh; thoughts that are too private to share aloud - politically incorrect or impolite to speak aloud even though the thoughts have passed through the mind.

 

Bonhoeffer described the Psalms as prayer for the community – a fellowship – which for Christians is centred with Christ. A paraphrase of his thought goes something like this:

Each of our individual prayers is but a minute fragment of the whole prayer of the church.  As we pray a psalm, we enter the prayers of Jesus -the very ones Jesus prayed - and so we are transported to enter into Christ’s sufferings when he prayed the psalms – we are with Jesus singing the Psalms after the Last Supper, with Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, with Jesus crying from the cross. When we enter the prayers of Jesus we encounter in that prayer place others who also have prayed with Christ. Our prayers do not end in Jesus’ earthly moments, our connection then moves outward to Christ’s entering the sufferings in the current world through those praying the Psalms in the circumstances in which they find themselves – at a death bed, in the refugee camp, in residential schools and in the remaining trauma, in forgotten burials mounds, in an AIDS hospice, in an internment facility, in the courtroom, behind bars; we enter the prayers, the lives of others who are praying from their experiences that are beyond our own – we enter the sufferings of all, a fellowship of prayer that extends way beyond our boundaries and sense of comfort. This profound fellowship, profound prayer, changes us... so that we change things.

 

Jesus was not out of his mind or possessed by devils, he was empowered.

Praying the politically subversive statements of the Psalms, entering the extremes and depths of human emotion, connected to the promises of God, embraced in the Word – God’s steadfast love enduring forever and ever, had Jesus prophetically and boldly preach and bring the kin-dom of God to the present.

And yes, it was dangerous...

the sick were healed, the possessed were set free, the hungry were fed, the powers-that-be were put in their place, hope was given, grace shared;

the marginalized were included, people were not forgotten, differing views stood side-by-side, gross injustice was named,

 and a fellowship of unlikely groups came together to listen, to pray, to enter each others’ sufferings,  to change... and thus change things, for the healing of the world.

 

 

 

 

 

Then Jesus’ mother and brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him.  A crowd was siting around him; and they said to Jesus, “ your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And Jesus replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, Jesus said, “here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Mark 3: 31-33