At This Time --- There is Still Stone on Stone

Hold fast to your confession of hope, meet together, consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, encourage each other; and do this all the more as you see the final Day approaching.

As we near the end of the church year, scripture texts are presented to have us contemplate the times in which we live.  The Apocalyptic literature is heard at a time when there is war, fear of terror attacks, bio-logical and nuclear weapons; fear of the foreigner/the migrant, fear of a loss of values; fear of perfect storms, environmental disasters, a dying plant; fear of the other --- those with differing opinions, politics, religion, race, and gender; at a time when we are continually pushed to fear that we do not have enough and what we have could be lost or taken away at any moment. The text we heard from Daniel was written at a time of great persecution; a time of war, famine, religions butting heads, cultural difference; a divide between the rich and the poor. The text was written, and today is heard, at a time of fear and chaos; a time that is at the cusp of …

… falling apart, ending, changing, transforming? Dying and living?

The point of the scripture texts for this morning is to have us contemplate the time in which we live, and what that means to the way we are to live. God speaks through the authors’ hands, talking about the end time, and balances out human fear with images of God’s revelation, of God’s kingdom yet to come where there will be vindication of the righteous. The text is a movement from “what-is-wrong-with-the-world;” from desperate circumstances, to a message of hope.  The writings’ ultimate goal is not for people to get lost in the images of destruction and despair, but, rather, to be filled with hope for a future time.

Daniel writes, --- At that time ---Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book.

People of that time would see a grand cosmic picture open before them, one that lifted their spirits and drew hope to a place outside the ashes of their every day lives. Mentioning Michael- the angel who conquered Satan; would have people think of the other primary angels in Jewish lore: Gabriel- who was to announce the end of the world; Raphael- who healed the sick and protected travellers; and Uriel – who punished evil doers. 

In that time, hope is written as a way to move to a focal point in the future; a place for the community to direct their energies. Their energy is not to wallow in the ways of the world, but, to anticipate being wise, to lead others to righteousness, the result will be cosmic; to shine like the brightness of the sky and the stars forever and ever.  

At that time, the text reads that Michael will arise, as the text ends it is the people who are called to rise; called to responsibility and action.  At that time, was a moment of shifting tides, falling empires and powers, a point of transition – which looked like utter chaos and felt terrifying--- it was here where the ash of current chaos transformed into future hope.  At that time, was life lived simultaneously and paradoxically filled with both anguish and deliverance. This is the breeding ground of hope. Hope is the confession we are asked to hold on to.  We are called to rise as a people, from our lives intertwined with anguish and deliverance, and proffer hope to the world.

Hold fast to your confession of hope, meet together, consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, encourage each other; and do this all the more as you see the final Day approaching.

Jesus, is with the disciples, continuing to teach them about what is to take place.  The text once again is apocalyptic, speaking of wars, rumours of wars, nation rising against nation; famine, earthquakes; the coming of the end – this is the beginning of the birth pangs.  And right in the midst of the text, Jesus reminds the hearer, Do not be alarmed.

As always, the disciples ask Jesus about what the sign will be that the day is upon them, that the day is closer; Jesus’ reply:  Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.

If we recall, Jesus has been sitting with the disciple facing the Temple.  The conversation carries on from last week’s, where they observed a widow placing coins in the Temple treasury. Jesus teaches the disciples that the Temple requirements are stealing from the least; that the religious system is messed up and has lost its way. It has forgotten that the point is to love God and to love neighbour. Continuing Jesus suggests that all things -all human things - shall pass away; the stones of the Temple will fall, the stones of the systems holding people in captivity and poverty will fall; the unravelling of relationship and the chaos that ensues will be the fall of power. Jesus alludes to coming days when, at that time, will mean his death … then wait for it …

From the dead will rise new life, Christ, with future hope for all.

The disciples wanted to know when the end would come. Jesus’ answer: Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down. Pastor Rick Pryce, at Zion in Lunenburg, has an interesting thought about this phrase.  It is true that within 40 years after Jesus death, the stones of the Temple that the disciples and Jesus were observing were thrown down by the Romans, but, not ALL the stones.  Jesus said, that not one stone will be left upon another, in that day. Pastor Rick reminded the clergy that met together this week, that some of the limestone ashlar blocks of the Herodian Temple still remain, stone on stone. These 80 tonne stones still stand in some places to a height of 100 feet above the foundations of Herod’s Temple. The lighter stones, those weighing 4 tonnes or so, where knocked down, and used in later buildings around the city of Jerusalem. So not only are there parts of walls, there is a very large foundation platform (on which now sit 2 large mosques) that is made of stone; a solid foundation.  

Stone is still on stone.  It means that at this time it is not the end…

Kingdoms may be warring with kingdoms, nations rise against other nations, there are earthquakes, and fires, and hurricanes, and FEAR the world over; but, today is not the end.  The world is on the edge, a tipping point, the cusp of….

…hopefully a transformation that raises spirits out of fear and places hope as a focal point for moving forward together.  This is our work to do.

As a community of faith, we are called to rise, at this time, of apocalyptic fervor, and live from Jesus’ words to the disciples, do not be alarmed. These words come in the midst of fear gone wild. We are called as a community to keep our wits about us, and our heads working out solutions to problems, on the way to fulfilling a hope yet to come. For the hope to come about we should not be alarmed that life as we know it will change, structures and systems will fall, especially those that in their operating create oppression, show a lack of care for the widow, and pray off those on the margin.

The end is coming. Yes, we know, so now what? Note that the texts do not waste time on what is to come, in the sense of working out what happens in life after, the nuts-and-bolts of heaven or hell; the texts rather, remind the hearer to have faith and trust, that God is redemptive. In this, the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews, has a strong articulation of what we are to be about.  Often it is preached that we are to approach God in humility, asking for forgiveness, -seeking mercy-; here we are encouraged to approach God in faith (in full hearted hope), knowing that God has already done everything through the death of Jesus. We need not ask for forgiveness, it is already done, so we come in thanksgiving, trusting this to be true. This acknowledges God’s present work in and through us, a confession that God is present in our lives and thus, in the world.  This is not a statement of belief, it is a confession of hope – faith is what God has done, hope is what is yet to come. Because of what God has done, we are changed as we live towards the fullness of hope. 

Hebrews tells us that hope doesn’t just happen, human beings create hope through the way they live.  Hope is the responsibility of faithful people. Hope is our responsibility. It is how we are to tackle fear. It is how we have a hand in the end of time. At that time… in this time there is still time, to share the Gospel message of hope with all people.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us how to do this: we are to meet together, to consider how to provoke each other to love and good deeds, and to encourage each other. And the more fear we see or experience, the more we are to be about these things. Why? Because hope creates love that transforms death to life.

And as long as there is stone on stone, a solid foundation, there is time to eradicate fear with hope that creates love. And at the end, that’s the fullness of God’s redemption.   

A Congregational Letter

Dear Congregation,

Today I was reflecting on the ebbs and flows of parish ministry.  I am thankful for the rhythm that you allow for me. This rhythm became very apparent to me over the past few weeks, especially due to conversations with students and self-care.

I am very thankful that you are a teaching congregation (I have had colleagues covet your commitment and dedication to taking learning seriously).  I find great joy in mentoring and teaching students, and learning from them.  This exercise makes me feel like I am using my gifts to the best of my ability. It renews my spirit, my intellect, and my energy.

I say this, because this afternoon I met with a Doctor of Ministry student attending Acadia Divinity College (I'm her mentor).  Over this year, we will meet for 2 hrs, once a month. She talked about finding the rhythm of ministry, in the sense of being wise to one's own needs (self-care) and not succumbing to compassion fatigue.

I have always enjoyed parish ministry because of the ebbs and flows of life; baptisms, weddings, funerals, joys and sorrows, sickness and health, life and death.

This week it is the students I am working with: mentoring a D.Min student, facilitating an on-line course for the Atlantic School of Theolgy ( I check in to the online conversation on Monday mornings), and of course, our current intern from Martin Luther University College in Waterloo --- who have been my absolute joy.

It balanced out: the water in the church basement to varying degrees over the past three weeks, a break in and the clean up of broken glass at the church, and a sewage backup into the house last night.

I am also grateful for what I have learned from those who have helped with the maintenance issues. Tom and Dang for showing me how to shore-up a window, for Bob and Paul who taught me lots about removing water, for Karen who found the right people to come immediately to give advice as to what to do at the house.  I am on the crest of a wave, when, without support and all of you, could have remained in the trough or worse the mud.

Thanks for being open to teaching students, to teaching me.  Thanks for being open and providing an ebb and flow; a rhythm conducive to living life well.

Hugs and Son-shine,
Kimber +

All Saints Sunday

Last Sunday, along with others, I pushed and shovelled water, helping to clear 4 inches of water out of the church basement. Part way through the exercise, I realized that the experience was the very one I would remember through the years; Bob and I throwing water over the sump pump that was in a large square box – tactfully missing each other’s shovels and pausing every now and again with a few words passed between us as we rested. 

While shoveling I was reminded of the porch project at the parsonage, 14 years ago.  A group of men from the congregation came to replace the floor. The lumber was in the driveway, the table saw was on the sidewalk, a few had on carpentry aprons; measuring tapes, large pencils, nails and hammers were in hand; men were working, and of course there were a couple of supervisors. I came home from a visit and went into the house to retrieve my hammer. At which point I offered to help ….  after a few looks, and me throwing the first nail, it was all good--- it seemed everyone took a very long break, while Heinz and I finished nailing down the floor boards.  This story is being told because it was the day I began to know Art Crouse. He is one among many whom we remember today.

In church world, I have found that when individuals focus their energy in the same direction, trust, relationships, and community grow.   Sweating and working together for a common goal and purpose are the moments that create saintly memories.

Over the years, that day on the porch, fostered relationship between the people present--- and in years that followed, when those men experienced overwhelming circumstances, the chaos of life, the death of loved ones, journeying through sickness, and their own deaths --- the saints gathered; I gathered with them and their families in a deep way; together we shed tears and bore each other’s burdens.  Gone was a superficial dancing around about how we would be with each other, gone was the need to nervously fill silence with talk; awkwardness and fear were dispelled for we had sweated together, focused together, were not afraid to get dirty together.  What I would like to call saint moments, are these times of vulnerability, whether physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual; moments that test and challenge us. Saint moments shape us into who we are and how it is that we “be” in the world.

The word from Isaiah, as read earlier, is a text that acknowledges the difficulty and challenge of present times.  For Isaiah’s people, it was living in a trampling ground for the empires of the world as they fought with each other.  Caught in the middle, the people are exiled by one foreign power or another; with tears they lose people, home, land, and Temple.  In tears, they face a changing way of life, and a fear that they will no longer be a people.

The difficulty and challenge of present times, as spoken by Isaiah, is just as tear-filled thousands of years later. Whether we look at escalating fear as articulated through exclusionary rhetoric, the cruel and inhumane treatment of fellow human beings, incidences and politics of hate --- we live in the face of a changing way of life. It breaks my heart, and the tears are there, ready to overflow.

I take comfort in the readings for this morning. They are the most tear-filled readings in the lectionary cycle. As a community we are invited to theologically reflect on tears.

American essayist and diplomat, Washington Irving wrote: There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

There is truth in these words.  How many of you, those who have lost a loved one, or loved ones, have had moments when your eyes fill with tears, when tears simply run over? 
We are in good company.  The Gospel of John, shares with us a vulnerable and intimate moment in Jesus’ human life.  At the death of a close friend, while accompanied by others – Mary and Martha- Jesus began to weep. With tears they bore each other’s fears and grief.

Through the tears, because of the tears, Jesus and Mary and Martha, along with the others at Lazarus’ grave found themselves in a sacred place, a place of power; the tears articulated the depths of their hearts, their love, their fears, and their broken dreams.  The tears also had an edge, an edge that contemplated hope, promises, and dreams of newness of life and resurrection; the tears had a silver lining that they could be changed to tears of joy.

When Jesus approaches Lazarus’ tomb – Jesus approaches a dark musty and lifeless hole— it is into this nothingness that Jesus calls. Jesus’ words echo through the abyss, and from it, life comes out. Jesus says to those with tears in their eyes: unbind him, and let him go.  As the people unbind Lazarus, they unbind their own fear and grief; tears turn from sadness to joy.

Karen Shaner, a New Testament scholar, suggests that on All Saints day we reflect more fully than on the theme of physical death to life.   Yes, this story of Lazarus is one of hope and promise, but, it is not in the end of life when saints are made.  Today is not just about the saints who have left this earthly life, today is a celebration of current saints -the ones who build porches and bail water; suggesting that perhaps each Nov. we should pause to celebrate those who have been baptized over the past year. This changes our perspective, to celebrate the saints who have come into the church through the waters of baptism – through the action of dying to oneself and rising with Christ. Saints, people who continually prepare and practice living into community and focusing their energy to sweat and work together, for the common good.

Today, together, we uphold for each other that on both sides of the grave there is life.

Brian Peterson, a New Testament scholar states: this day is about what all God’s saints have known and experienced, that here and now there is no death or grief or fear so deep and dark that the voice of Jesus cannot reach into it, call us out, and bring life.

God has not left us or abandoned us. Through tears, following tears, God calls into the darkness –of fear, loneliness, depression, listlessness, grief--- and from the abyss draws life.

A loud voice from the throne says, I am making all things new. See, the home of God is among mortals. God will dwell with them; they will be God’s peoples, and God will be with them; God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. 

This is apocalyptic literature at its best.  It is explicit that God has not taken our loved ones away. The new heaven comes down to earth; the new heaven is not a replacement, but, rather, a renewal of what was and is – in the very place God has always been; at home, dwelling, among mortals; crying at the open grave and from the abyss calling out life.

The calling out of life, once again places life to grow out of darkness, the darkness in us, in our hearts, in the chaos in the world, and in the change of the way of life as we have known it.

As God calls into the darkness, and we see more clearly through the tears, the words of Isaiah echo…

then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces. It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for God, so that God might save us. This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in God’s salvation.

Perhaps today grief is too raw for you to contemplate tears of joy and tears of hope. This is the beauty of a community of saints, ones who have toiled together, built porches, and bailed water side by side; there is an unspoken reality that we are in this ship together and come hell or high water we will share each one’s griefs, and carry light and hope, and resurrection, for each other, especially when the other is unable to do so for themselves.

Each week we come to this sacred place, oft times with tears in our eyes ready to spill over, to celebrate being given the grace of God to be saints through the way we live our lives. We come with tears in our eyes at the magnitude of God’s forgiveness and grace, as we celebrate that which is yet to be; a great feast of good things, for all people, on the mountain of God.  We celebrate this feast here, not in perfection, but, with all those of every time and place, as the new heaven comes to earth, to dwell where God has been all along. Here.

We bring our grief to the table and find there a foretaste of the feast to come.

Art Crouse, as others on the list of saints who have passed from this life, are as present and alive to me in the meal we share, as they are resurrected while building porches or shoveling water with the saints with whom I continue to sweat and work. 

God says: Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true. It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

May your tears be tears that spring from the water of life; with power to dispel grief and fear; and may we be unbound through the sacredness of tears that as a community we might have life in abundance; with abundance to share.