Truth Comes to Me at the Fence Post

 

Before I go on a journey, particularly if it involves airplane travel, I take time to find a novel to take along. I try to find a piece of fiction that is engaging and is long enough to last through long waits in airports. It is sometimes read while on the plane. I can read for hours, completely at home in the story. Time passes quickly and is enjoyable.

 

Matt Haig, in his book, Notes on a Nervous Planet, writes:

In a world that can get too much, a world where we are running out of mind space, fictional worlds are essential. They can be an escape from reality, yes, but not an escape from the truth. Quite the opposite. In the “real” world, I used to struggle with fitting in. The codes you had to follow. The lies you had to tell. The laughs you had to fake. Fiction felt not like an escape from truth but a release into it. Even if its was a truth with monsters or talks of bears, there was always some kind of truth there. A truth that could keep you sane, or at least you you.

For me reading was never an antisocial activity. It was deeply social. It was the most profound kind of socializing there was. A deep connection to the imagination of another human being. A way to connect without the many filters society normally demands.

Reading … is important because it gives you room to exist beyond the reality you’re given. It is how humans merge. How minds connect. Dreams. Empathy. Understanding. Escape.

Reading is love in action. (-pg238-9)

 

Reading is love in action. Haig describes for me what the long readings of the Lent cycle and Holy Week are all about. Jesus is into the telling of parables – stories wherein we are released into truth- we experience a deep connection to the imagination of God; a room beyond our known and experienced reality. A place of possibilities and hope. Love in action. We are surrounded by God’s expansive imagination and truth in the parable of the fig tree. The parable of the prodigal son. The Passion narrative.

 

I don’t know about you, but every time I come to the story of the prodigal son, I fall into it in a different place. I hear and experience new truths, learning much about myself as a human being and where I am in life and my relationships with others. I become aware of where I am stuck in not living God’s covenant fully. The prodigal son parable is like falling into a therapy session. And because I know the story and the characters it feels like a safe place to wander because at the conclusion of the story, I always come away with feeling that the reading is love in action – big love, God love.

 

I have a good friend who explores scripture by imagining themself in the Gospel story. They insert themself in the story as they are in their everyday life. While in the story they talk with the characters, work alongside them, and participate in whatever is going on. When my friend talks about these journeys I am amazed with the deep conversations they have with Jesus. My friend often says, “So, I asked Jesus about that.” Then they tell me about what wisdom they encountered; the truth that was present. They drop themselves into the story with the expectation that their experience with Jesus will change them  - their perspective, their understanding, their capacity; their ability to love and be loved. What a powerful way to enter the Gospel --- God’s story.

 

Haig, in his writing, draws on his experience of mental illness and depression. The reading of fiction is one of the ways he finds healing and wholeness. He writes, “Find a good book. And sit down and read it. There will be times in our life when you’ll feel lost and confused. The way back to yourself is through reading. I want to remember that. The more you read, the more you will know how to find your way through those difficult times.” _pg266

 

We have a good book. In fact, we have many good books, all in one book – the Bible. This year, the focus is on the Book of Luke and Luke’s telling of the Gospel story. Luke is a master storyteller. His characters are everyday people, living everyday lives, with everyday emotions. The stories are understandably human. What appear to be very human stories are waiting for us to fall into them – to read and relax into truth. What we find is that the stories, while being very human, are rich with the presence of God.

 

This year, as I relaxed into the story of the prodigal son, and walked around in it, I rested at the gate of the farm. The prodigal son returns: I saw him coming down the road. The father whoops and hollers loudly when he sees the son. Shortly thereafter there is a whole lot of commotion. Large groups of birds are disturbed and fly in circling masses. Hired hands scurry all over the farm gathering the fixings to host a celebration, a party with food and dancing. People from the neighbouring countryside are issued invitations, as the word spreads people start streaming to the farm. At the gate I see and hear the makings of a party. There is movement and work all over the estate, along with the noise of that work. I smell the food cooking. The dust from the road catches in my throat as it swirls behind carts and wagons. It seems everyone has heard about the party --- except for an oblivious older son, who doesn’t realize until he pretty much stumbles in the door of the farmhouse. It is impossible to believe that he had no idea, that his senses missed it all. How did he miss the excitement and enthusiasm, the commotion and the preparation?

This is when Truth joins me at the fence post and taps me on the shoulder and asks me, “are you oblivious?”

 

I pause because I cast my gaze on the party at hand. I saw the son come home. I felt the joy of the father and the love given to the returning son. I was present in the commotion. I witnessed the daftness of the elder son.

Truth, has not let go of my shoulder, and whispers, “To what are you oblivious? What is God doing? Where is love? Where is there rejoicing? Where is there extravagant hospitality?” Truth whispers it as fact, I am oblivious even though I pride myself on being keenly observant.

Truth turns and stands in front of me and looking me in the eye, looking deep inside and repeats, “what are you missing?”

 In this later half of Lent, Truth asks me to step away from being preoccupied in work and daily tasks, being consumed by world crisis, from being self-absorbed, and to pay attention to a present God who is hosting welcome home parties all over the neighbourhood, inviting me to come, and use my hands to participate with excitement and enthusiasm in the commotion and preparation for the celebrations.

Truth has spoken to me through the Gospel story.

 

This Sunday in Lent we are given a gift of story. I encourage you to return to story of the prodigal son and the rejoicing father, Luke 15 starting at verse 11, place yourself in the story, be released into truth – and find what Truth says to you. Pick up the Gospel of Luke, sit down and read it. As you read, find the way back to yourself, make deep connections in all relationships, be healed by the presence of God, and be inspired by love in action, to be God’s love in action.

 

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Time Flies!

 Time flies!

It certainly feels that way for many of us. Perhaps we have crammed so much into our days that it feels like we have not enough time. Or time seems shorter because as we age it takes longer to complete tasks. Maybe we sense the earth’s drift closer to the sun and note that every few years clock time is readjusted by a few seconds because it takes less time for the earth to circle the sun.

Time flies!

In New Denmark, NB, our Lutheran siblings have a tradition where at the end of the graveside prayers, those in the cemetery sing to the tune of Silent Night, the first verse of this Danish hymn:

Klokken slaar, tiden gaar, evigheden os forestarr…

Loosely translated and continuing: Bells strike, time passes, eternity awaits us. So, let’s use the precious time to serve our Lord with earnest diligence; then we’ll come home, then we’ll come home.

Time flies!

The scripture texts for today remark on how it is that humans spend their time.

Isaiah pointedly tells listeners that they busy themselves spending time and money on things that do not satisfy and on things that have little value. As prophets do, they berated humans for amassing wealth and failing to care and share with others. The prophet calls humans to repent… to turn away from wasting time and money.

Jesus is swarmed by a group who are spending their time gossiping about Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with sacrifices and wanting a response from Jesus.  Jesus’ response is a redirection, a turning away from gossip and fear mongering; a call of sorts to repent.

Jesus continues to refocus the conversation by pulling from the news reel of the day. The news of the tower’s collapse and the subsequent deaths was probably the consuming talk of the whole town. Jesus turns people from the news, repent; turn away.

Time flies!

In myself, I have noticed a change in how I experience scripture. As humans turn towards gossip, fear mongering, highlighting death, forgetting to care for neighbour, amassing more for themselves – including power, I hear a growing urgency in the words of Isaiah and Jesus. I sense an urgency within myself. It doesn’t take long for times to change, for that which we thought was stable to fall apart. Repent – turn around.

For Isaiah, turning around is described as: Eat what is good, incline your ear, come to me, so that you might live. Your earthly life, your time as a people is short, get on with living the covenant. For Jesus, turning around is described in the parable of the fig tree where one turns towards patience and loving and tending that which is before them.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians describes for us a community of faith that is figuring out how to apply and live the words of Isaiah and Jesus. They are discerning repentive action: turning away, turning around, and turning towards.

Paul uses snippets of Hebrew stories to serve as examples, explaining that Hebrew scriptures were written down to instruct us, on whom the end of the ages have come. And reminding the people that No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. The scriptures referred to address fear-filled times, the end of the ages as Paul puts it, and are used to illustrate God’s continued faithfulness regardless of world and human affairs.

 

Reading the letters to the Corinthians, we note that the community is not of one mind. Although having a unity in the figure of Jesus and commonality in the following of Christ, there is a diversity of opinion on how the community goes about being a Christian community that lives in a world of idolatry and terror.

The text is very human. It reveals a proclivity for rules, a human system to determine sin and a way to judge the same. It reads pointing fingers at historical actions leading to destruction, exile, and death. In Paul’s letters there is a repeated focus on naming sin, and communities consumed in judging sin of its members, rather than living with Christ-like concern for others and being guided by this principle. It is like the parable of the fig tree, Jesus turns the focus from what is interpreted as a no-good-tree, to concern and love for the tree.

Paul does get to the point of his argument, that the community is to faithfully be on the lookout for ‘ways God will provide.’ And it might be in the most unexpected ways. The church in Corinth is a young Christian community that is different from the world around them. Most notably it is what the community will eat and not eat; these rules based in Hebrew scripture. It posed real challenges and potential danger for the Christian community, as the society in which they lived, shared and ate food sacrificed to Roman-gods. To not eat that which was offered was offensive and anti-Empire. Some ate, some didn’t, both had a theological reason for choosing the action they did, and both sides judged each other’s religiousity or sinfulness. Paul invites the community to repentive action – turning away from judging and arguing. Paul refocuses the conversation of discernment on how to live as God-followers in the world as a turn towards patience and love. Let love dictate interactions in the world.

I hear Paul’s words as an urgent plea to repent, time is flying, time is short. Repent from spending your time making a hierarchy of sin, of judging each other, and get on with covenant living, get on with loving.

Time flies!

Klokken slaar, tiden gaar, evigheden os forestarr… Bells strike, time passes, eternity awaits us.

 

I appreciated the singing of this Danish verse. To mark the end of earthly life, those gathered are reminded that time passes and eternity awaits us. Simply put, it is reminiscent of Ash Wednesday’s Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return and Jesus’ words from the cross to the thief, Today you will be with me in paradise.

The statement is simple and true.

There is certainly nothing we can do about time passing. There is nothing we can do for those who have died. There is nothing we can do to change the past. The final act of singing this verse allows one to gently be laid to rest, while mourners sing a seed of hope to move them from death to living life in the time they have.

As Isaiah, and Jesus, and Paul invite repentance and a turning towards covenant living--

So let’s use the precious time (we have) to serve our Lord with earnest diligence; then we’ll come home, then we’ll come home.

Time flies!

There is no time like the present to repent – to turn around – to turn towards living each precious moment serving our Lord with earnest diligence and with patience, loving and tending those who are around us.

 

The Mother Hen

 Can chickens fly? …

I’ll come back around to answer this question.

 

While writing this Gospel, Luke may very well have been praying or singing Psalm 91.

You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I trust.’ For he will deliver you from the snare of the hunter and from the deadly pestilence; he will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and defense. -Ps 91: 1-4

The Psalm describes God’s shelter, or being shelter by God, as being covered by wings. Pinions – that is the outer part of a bird’s wing including the flight feathers. Enfolded in the faithfulness of God’s wings, the persons collected find refuge, fortress, and deliverance; a shield, a defense.

 

I wonder if Luke was experiencing a sense of instability in the world around him. I wonder if he had anxiety. The world at his time was filled with political posturing, Roman aggression, economic troubles, increased taxes, religious disputes, escalating violence, and growing discontent. When I read the Gospel of Luke, I wonder if some of what I feel today – or the how ‘we’ feel – was what Luke felt. Did he feel troubled by the chaos in the world around him? Remember in this Gospel one of his favourite phrases is ‘Do not be afraid.’ Often writers write as much to themselves as for their audience. Today’s text speaks to me as if Luke took great comfort from an image he knew from the Psalms and wanted to share that comfort with others. God will cover you will his pinions and under his wings you will find refuge.

 

Yet here, Luke understands that taking refuge under God’s wings does not mean that the struggles encountered in the world, or the turbulence in society disappears, rather it changes him and his ability to live in that world. Luke, in his telling of the gospel, describes a lost society where because people were ensnared – to their own will or to the will of others, there were ever more who were forgotten by the same. The forgotten were marginalized whether poor, widowed, orphaned, hungry, sick, or demon possessed. A significant group from the general population had turned away from seeking refuge in God. God’s vision of creation was far from being created and lived. We hear this in Luke’s story in the words of a frustrated – grieving, lamenting- Jesus, how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!

 

Luke takes great comfort under God’s pinions and refuge in God’s wings. It is from that faithfulness and strength of God’s, that he can write truth about power. It is no mistake that Luke calls Herod a fox; a shrewd choice of language. The Pharisees would agree. Herod was a fox. In an act of resistance, the pharisees approach Jesus, as a mother hen – offering a warning to protect that which they know too also be in opposition to, or counter to, the way of the fox. Luke begins this story with the Pharisees coming to warn Jesus of Herod’s intent to kill him. Unlike the Sadducees who were in cahoots with the authorities, the Pharisees separated themselves from Rome and its culture, recognizing the dangers of Roman Empire and its rulers who continually incited chaos and used violence towards the occupied territory and its people. This is represented in calling Herod a fox, there is no gospel in this statement. However, the gospel is found in the completion of the metaphor, Jesus as a hen gathering her brood under her wings -Lk 13: 34

 

The next two weeks Luke continues sharing the Gospel with stories told to the disciples and other followers, Jesus speaking to a brood of chicks. Under the wings of a mother hen, the chicks stay warm, growing together until they are big enough and feathered enough to fend for themselves. While in Jesus’ care the disciples hear parables – we will hear parables- that reflect God’s patience, God’s forgiveness, God’s grace, and God’s unconditional love. It is important for this mother hen time.

 

I feel this sanctuary on a Sunday morning as God’s pinions wrapped around us. We gather, together, to stay warm, to grow big enough and feathered enough to fend for ourselves. While here, I also feel like a mother hen gathering us and having specific stories to share to protect and strengthen us to face the foxes.  

This time is important. It is important to take refuge over the next few weeks because in our journey through Lent we know that a shadow is cast over the earth, over the human story, over the Incarnate One.

We are going to need the shield and refuge of stories reflecting God’s patience, forgiveness, grace, and unconditional love. We do not want to get caught being chickens running around with our heads cut off – a people without hope, wandering aimlessly, forgetting who we are, marginalizing others. These are serious times. We know…

Time is coming when the fox does kill mother hen and the chicks scatter. The hen is dead and buried.

Time is coming when from a sealed tomb, the rock is cracked open, and new life will emerge. The hen will rise.

Time is coming when the chicks will seek refuge in a locked upper room, mother hen returns with open wings ‘peace be with you.’

 

Can chickens fly? Technically yes. They can fly 10-12 metres and a little higher than an average human can reach. For all intents and purposes, the answer is no. Chickens are not really gifted with the ability to fly.

But a bird that can’t fly has much to teach us about the strength of being present. This inability to fly grounds the hen. Farmyards are not full of chickens all in a tizzy trying to fly. Chickens are content staying close to mother earth and to their chicks. A mother hen’s wings can collect and protect approximately 12 chicks – although there are instances where full sized hens have taken on twice that. There wings give protection and warmth. If there is no safe place to take refuge when a fox appears, a mother hen will gather the chicks under her wings and hunker down. The hen will not move, giving her life in protection of the chicks if necessary.

 

Jesus did not fly away from the fox. Jesus did not leave the disciples.  

God did not fly away from humankind. God chose to become and remain Incarnate. Present.

 

Bonhoeffer wrote in Discipleship –

And in the Incarnation the whole human race recovers the dignity of the image of God. Henceforth, any attack even on the least ... is an attack on Christ, who took the form of man, and in his own Person restored the image of God in all that bears a human form. Through fellowship and communion with the incarnate Lord, we recover our true humanity, and at the same time we are delivered from that individualism which is the consequence of sin, and retrieve our solidarity with the whole human race. By being partakers of Christ incarnate, we are partakers in the whole humanity which he bore. We know that we have been taken up and borne in the humanity of Jesus, and therefore that new nature we now enjoy means that we too must bear the sins and sorrows of others. The incarnate Lord makes his followers the siblings of all humankind.

Can chickens fly? More pointedly do you fly? When times get tough or too much do you (and your will) fly away, or do you ground yourself and taking refuge under God’s wings remain present. Partaking in Christ incarnate do you open your wings, gathering the chicks around you and bearing the sins and sorrows of others. Protecting, warming, with patience, forgiveness, grace, unconditional love, to death and beyond.

 

As Luke ends this story may it be true of us - blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.