Awkwardness Evaporates - Lent 5A

When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed home.
I can’t help but ponder how awkward was this meeting between Martha and Jesus?
Martha comes outside the village and meets Jesus on the road. She knows that Jesus is aware that Lazarus died because word had been sent, days ago. Jesus knows that Lazarus is dead because he waited a few more days before coming. Imagine: what is Martha thinking, feeling; what is Jesus thinking and feeling?

A little over a year ago, my friend- my brother by choice, died after a fight with cancer. In his last weeks my husband and I were apprized of his declining health; he moved from his home hospital bed to a hospice centre – where a daily watch was kept by those who lived closer than three provinces away.  Thank heavens for cell phones and social media: electronically we were kept informed, we shared prayer posts, texted our love, and felt like we were present in spirit. We made plans, so that we would be ready to travel when needed – the time chosen for us because I was asked by my brother to preach at his funeral service.
When our friend died, we set the plan in motion, arrived in Ontario, and prepared to face his family --- our chosen family. The visitation was in a cathedral, one walked up the side aisle, passed the casket at the front, and then greeted the family, before exiting down the other side aisle.
Waiting in the reception line was ... awkward.
One of my best friends had died, his wife – another best friend, my chosen sister, was waiting; our God-daughter and her brother were waiting, our adopted Finish grandmother was waiting... what was I going to say? How was I going to act? Was it okay that I hadn’t been there for the death? How could I be supportive and grieve at the same time? Was I going to fall apart? Did I feel guilty for living so far away, for not making a point to visit more? Had too much happened in the time since we last saw each other, face-to-face, that our connection was no longer strong? Good gracious.... awkward.

John’s Gospel has Martha go out to meet Jesus.  Their meeting is told as a conversation that starts in a hard-hitting kind of way.  It doesn’t start with the small talk of weather or local gossip. Martha starts off accusingly, if you had been here... And with that spoken, out of the way, the conversation turns to deeper thoughts, words to be seeded as hope amidst grief. Martha affirms, I believe you are the Messiah -the Son of God- the one coming into the world. Jesus and Martha contemplate resurrection, life from death – both later and now.  Satisfied with enough bread for the moment -  Martha goes to get Mary. Jesus remains outside the village where Martha had met him and waits for Mary to meet him there.
Mary rushes out to Jesus.  She kneels at his feet and weeps.

As the reception line in the cathedral shortened, as I wondered if my reaction would be a Martha sort or a Mary sort, as I passed the casket –the awkwardness of the moment evaporated-  in an instant I ended up in an embrace with my sister, an embrace without words that didn’t cease to end. In the silence and the time- standing-still of that embrace --- tears, acceptance, love – nothing had changed; but as we drew away from each other, squeezing each other’s hands, we acknowledged that everything had changed.

Jesus, Martha, and Mary are standing in the road outside the village; awkwardness evaporates, nothing has changed. But, as they pull away from each other, to move towards Lazarus’ grave -Jesus weeps, Jesus is disturbed in spirit, Jesus is deeply moved – walking together they acknowledge that everything has changed.

This is an experience to which many of us relate whether: a spouse dies, employment changes, survive cancer, change gender, become divorced or married, win the lottery, suffer addiction, a family member is imprisoned, adopt a child... all of these circumstances, and so many more, change us, change our relationships, and affect our ability to interact with our church family. In these times, people often withdraw from familiar relationships, stop coming to church, because of the awkwardness of the moment.  In the church community it appears that nothing has changed, but collective experience -because we are in relationship- will tell us that everything has changed.

Our current situation is like the story of Lazarus.
Lazarus is raised from the dead – nothing is the same – everything is made new. All of his relationships are affected. Loss does that. Grief does that. Death does that.

Church as we knew it, in a building and sitting in pews, died two weeks ago. From this death came new life – new expressions of church and virtual Christian community. Death forced a fervour of creation, innovation, and potential possibilities. Churches that were occupied with dwindling finances and inward crisis, moved to look outward.  Nothing -as in faith, theology, scripture, worship, ministry, pastoral care, offering- has changed, but we acknowledge that everything has changed. We are living in new life and in an expectation of the fullness of Martha’s affirmation: I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world. As virtual church community this affirmation is at the heart of creativity and innovations, brining the one coming into the world – into not just our building, but, into the world.

A colleague shared with a group of pastors earlier this week, that after a death -meaning any kind of loss that causes one to walk through the valley of grief, a valley of dry bones- changes a person such that when life returns to what is considered normal; it is normal but it is a changed normal. This can lead to a certain sadness, an awkwardness– a reserved celebration that we have come out the other side; a reserved ‘Praise the Lord’ all things are new. The first time one sits in a pew, alone, after a spouse dies; the first time, in a long time, when one can go to church and sit beside a family member newly arrived to Canada; the first conversation over coffee when it seems too much time has passed to have anything to talk about; the first Sunday after being away for a month, when all the children have grown and are unrecognizable, when we have forgotten names, and have new babies and their names to learn --- is sadness and awkwardness mixed with joy.

During this time of physical distancing and experiencing the fall-out of COVID-19, each of us has been put in a situation where we are daily confronting our relationship with death. We are living in a valley being scattered with dry bones. We face the possibility of physical death or serious illness. We face death, we face loss, whether in paychecks, lifestyle, pension funds, freedom, a sense of stability, connectedness, physical contact. We are all grieving, parts of life as we know it are dying, and all of us are in the process of being dry bones with new life being breathed around us. When this is over we can expect an awkwardness as we rise in a world where nothing is the same – everything is made new.
The Gospel in today’s scriptures stress that the word of the Lord brings new life to that which was dead; life comes out of death.

I think about this in relation to our virtual worshiping community. For this community we are experiencing a death of sorts – a loss- of eating together each week; sharing the sacrament of the altar. In pastor-world, and in Zoom meetings between Lutheran Bishops and theologians, many conversations have been had over the past two weeks about offering virtual communion; suggesting that if each person watching were to have a piece of bread and a little wine, that the Real Presence, through the words of institution could travel through cyberspace into each home; communion could still happen. Our Bishop has taken a different tact – not that he disputes the ability of the Real Presence to expand beyond our limited understanding of space and time- he suggests that we in a time of Eucharistic Fast. How very Lent.
I’m not sure that any of us who grew up in Canada, except for those who remember rationing during WWII, have been forced to fast.  Human beings are consumptive by nature and when we chose to fast give up something like chocolate or coffee or smoking, or fast a day before medical tests.  This Lent we have been forced into a fast – a fast from creature comforts, whether certain foods or toilet paper; a fast from movement -from going where we want when we want, and doing what we want, when we want; a fast from physical contact and gathering; and now a fast from Eucharist – a fast from the fullness of God’s grace that we experience through this sacrament. Nothing has changed, but, everything has changed.

Whenever Easter happens – that Sunday when we are once again gathered side-by-side in sacred space – in the awkwardness of the moment because we will all come changed because in a variety of forms we have faced death; walked through the valley of dry bones; we arrive at the Eucharistic table together to partake, to eat, to digest,... LIFE –
Some of us will come Martha-like, others Mary-like: there will be accusing thoughts – why did you let this happen?, and deep conversations, and kneeling, and tears; awkwardness will evaporate and in the depths of our loss, through the valley of death and dry bones, we will awake and be filled by the experience of the fullness of God’s grace in bread, wine, and community. LIFE –all will be new!  We will be new! I can’t wait to be resurrected to new life. Until then I hold fast to Martha’s affirmation:

I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.
... in your word is my hope.
... with You is steadfast love... and plenteous redemption.
Out of the depths my soul waits for the Lord.

A Matter of What We Do Not See

Things of which we are most afraid, are things we do not see -things to which the naked eye is blind –
We go about blind - forgetting, pretending, pushing away, ignoring-  hidden things that cause sickness, disruption, pain, suffering, grief, and death.
We do not see the presence of viruses and bacteria, toxins and contaminants, on the surfaces we touch or in the air we breathe or in the water we drink. 
We do not see how the decisions we make today will affect -in a global warming, environment in crisis kind of way-  all of creation.
We do not see the tension or level of threat for terrorism, nuclear strikes, or war.
We walk blind.

In church world much time is spent on things we do not see.
Today’s gospel, for instance, goes on and on about sin – trying to figure out who sinned this man or his parents that he was born blind.
The story weaves back and forth through a theological debate of invisible sin that has manifested itself in physical blindness; giving invisible sin a tangibility in a specific place and thing.
The story does not point to actions of sin – named as murder, stealing, adultery, or idolatry. The conversation is of ‘sin,’ the cause beyond the action. The perception in the story is that sin is now seen – it is real; it has manifested in blindness. Likewise, Jesus personifies sin by breaking the rules and healing on the Sabbath. The Pharisees ask, How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs? And continue, We know that God does not listen to sinners, but does listen to one who worships and obeys God’s will -God’s will as directed in the written Law. In the process of defining sin – containing that which we do not see- the Pharisees get lost in the tidbits of figuring out ‘how’ the man received his sight, and are blind to ‘who’ did the healing -Jesus- who has physically disappeared from the scene. He is not present, not seen, until he comes to the man-born-blind afterward.
After the man who received his sight is thrown out of the synagogue, Jesus asks him, Do you believe in the Son of Man? Jesus reveals that he is the Son of Man and he who was blind sees for a second time that day. And we enter another realm of -things we do not see- things that the church spends much time on;  things like faith and grace.

Life has been different for the world over the past few weeks. Reflecting on the world through the story of the blind man – the seeing man-  in the Gospel, has helped me in articulating what I have seen and what I do not see but feel.
We walk blind.

The CORONA virus is acting a bit like a mud and saliva poultice.
 For a moment blind has turned to sight.
Often we walk blind - blind to our relationship with the earth – within a week of reduced traffic and flights flying across Europe satellites have captured images that actually see European cities from space– the air has cleared; sight is not fogged up by a continual production of smog.
Often we walk blind - blind to our relationship with each other – as we practice social distancing and self-isolation or quarantine, there is a realization how much we take relationships for granted. We forget how interconnected we truly are – from farmers, to delivery people, to service people; how many people we share playground equipment with, restaurant seats, public transit, sidewalks.
Often we walk blind - blind to our relationship with God – until we are reminded of our fragility and return, or come for the first time, seeking something greater than ourselves to cope with a reality greater than our capacity. The last time I experienced a visible rise in church attendance was the first couple of Sunday’s after 9/11. People returned to hear the Word, and to join with a community of people who were experiencing the same thing.

When the going is good we walk blind.  We tend to become lax -in washing our hands, protecting those around us; we forget our interconnectedness; and our priorities are eschewed from building relationship.

As we wash the mud from our eyes, let us turn our attention to the Gospel to be found in ‘a matter of what we do not see.’

We believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen.  This is an ancient confession of the church. Church world has always lived in the known and unknown, seen and unseen, visible and invisible. As Christians:

Things of which we are most confident – bold;  are things we do not see- things to which the naked eye is blind –
We go about blind – remembering, revealing, welcoming, acknowledging – hidden things that cause healing, connection, comfort, blessing, hopefulness, and life.
We do not see the presence of Mystery – God: the force of creation, the incarnation of redemption, the energy of consciousness.
We do not see the ‘how’ of the workings of prayer, meditation, and worship.
We do not see faith.
Yet in all these things we do not see – we have utmost confidence through Christ.

We go about blind – remembering, revealing, welcoming, acknowledging – hidden things. I say we go about blind because we are about God’s work, a work that is revealed in its fullness in God’s time. We work in God’s creation, God’s mission, God’s vision – without knowing, without seeing the end.  We offer faith, peace, love, hope, compassion, forgiveness, joy – through words and deeds, knowingly and unknowningly, we plant seeds that come from the light of Christ.
God’s work, from time to time, in our midst turns into God’s work revealed. Although we do not see God, all the time God is with us. There have been moments when people within this community (I know because stories are shared with me) when people have experienced miracles, inspiration, inexplicable occurrences; God-sightings. Just for a moment, greater sight is given and the invisibles like faith grow.  Many have expressed moments when they have experienced grace.  These moments happen wherein we catch a glimpse of God’s fullness and can declare:
 One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.

The things of which I am most afraid are things I do not see.
 The things of which I am most confident and bold, are also things I do not see.
In times like these I purposefully and continually have to redirect my focus to hold onto and uplift the things I do not see in which I am confident – faith, grace, love, Real Presence, God, community, prayer, meditation, worship, relationship -- Living the ‘unseen’ that are reflections of God’s light shining on me relieves anxiety and manages fear. The letter to the Ephesians says it: O blind, awake, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you --- and it is the reflection of this light that plants hidden seeds, resists fear, calms anxiety – allows grace to be directed into a world full of blindness.

This morning the Gospel phrase I will take with me is a statement of faith.  It is a statement made by one who walks blind, and in this past week has been shown the depths of blindness into which I participate.
Thanks to a corrective of sorts, I am no longer blind to my relationship with the earth, blind to my relationship and interconnection with others, blind to my relationship with God and God-community.
One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.

May this statement of faith  reflect in the world through me – through us- consciously practicing the invisibles -that which is not seen-  living into the Mystery that is in all and is all.

In times like these

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Your Turning to God - A Blessing for the World

I brought with me this morning my pastoral care book.  This book travels with me to the hospital, providing scripture, prayer, and liturgy for confession, anointing with oil, for circumstances like removing life support systems, transplant surgery, emergency baptisms, and commendation of the dying.  It contains liturgy for house blessings and for presiding at marriages. Most often this book travels with me to the cemetery for burials.
The centre pages of the book are protected by mac-tac, so I can proclaim the Gospel and the hope found therein, without my pages turning to mush in rain, snow, or wind. The service gives options for readings and prayers.  Some prayers and readings are specific, like those used if a child is being buried, otherwise , pastors pick and choose based on the family and their own preferences.
After arriving at the grave, words of comfort are proclaimed to the mourners. 95% of the time this is what I say:
I will lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.
The Lord will not let your foot be moved nor will the one who watches over you fall asleep.
Behold the keeper of Israel will neither slumber nor sleep; the Lord watches over you;
The Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord will preserve you from all evil and will keep your life.
The Lord will watch over your going out and your coming in, from this time forth forevermore.

Of course, this is the psalm we chanted earlier, Psalm 121. At the end of formal responsibilities – the bedside vigil, the service planning, the visiting, the funeral liturgy, the reception- by the time I reach the grave, I need to hear -I need to speak- a word that will heal my grieving heart, warm my troubled spirit, and bolster my expended hope. I receive healing, warmth, and hope in the words of Psalm 121.
The Psalm is simple in its construction.  The person speaking asks a  simple question: “from where is my help to come?” The question is one of seeking, a question that will lead to a journey for an answer. The question is the person opening their heart and turning to a power outside themselves – turning toward God.
The question is followed by a confession, a statement. I wonder if the person states, “my help comes from the Lord,” because that is what they believe, or is it what they desperately want to believe? Is it what they believe sometimes, but, from time to time doubt?  When I recite this Psalm, the statement could be either – it is similar to the creed we say on Sunday morning; a corporate confession of faith that we say to bolster hope, warm the heart – for ourselves, but, perhaps more importantly for the faithful who are finding faith difficult in a particular moment.  I believe in God the father almighty creator of heaven and earth. My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. I acknowledge by speaking these words at a graveside that the Mystery of what is going on is far bigger than I can dream or imagine – the Mystery began in creation, even before creation, there is longevity in this creative force - this gives me hope. 
This Psalm is considered a Song of ascent, meaning it was sung as one journeyed up to the Temple, to give one’s offering, to offer prayers before God. There is some evidence it was sung too, as a spiritual pilgrimage when going to Jerusalem was impractical or impossible. Asking, seeking, -going on a journey outside of oneself- is stated so simply in the Psalm and surprisingly the grace offered is returned a hundredfold. The word of grace given is called in biblical text, a priestly blessing; much like blessing you hear at the end of service, the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine on you, as recorded in Deuteronomy.  Most of the Psalm 121 is a proclaimed blessing – and it grows from a simple question and confession of faith.

Although in a different style of writing, a similar pattern is heard in the text from Genesis.  Abram is invited to go on a journey which is followed by a sevenfold blessing. The text from John’s Gospel is again similar, Nicodemus journeys to Jesus, seeks to understand, with this text portion ending in a blessing that the Son came into the world, “in order that the world might be saved” – a blessing.

A priest is visiting his atheist barber for a trim and shave. The barber engages the priest in conversation and asks, “If there is a loving God, how can God allow poverty, war, and suffering?” At that moment, looking out the window of the barber shop, both saw a disheveled man with wily hair lumber past. The priest said to the barber, “You are a barber and claim to be a good one.  How can you allow that man to go about unkept and unshaved?” The barber snorted, “That man never gave me a chance.” To which the priest replied, “Exactly, people are what they are because they never give God a chance.”

This can not be said of Abram or Nicodemus. 
God comes to Abram – as unknown, unannounced, and as yet, unintroduced. Abram had not previously heard of this God, who has asked him to go on a journey that will take him and his household away from his kinsfolk, his inheritance, the land and the traditional gods of Mesopotamia, the bustling trade of Haran, the riches of this place, the availability of water and food, and the culture he has lived and known for 75 years. Abram is asked to go on a journey and sacrifice everything he has ever known. God invited Abram and Abram says, “yes.”
God came through Jesus, speaking in the streets, performing signs, and confronting the religious leaders – God came unannounced and in an unexpected way.  Nicodemus, watching for the signs that would usher in a Messiah, was unclear as to whether Jesus was the fulfilment of the prophets words that he had been taught all his life. Nicodemus, in his conversation with Jesus, is invited into a spiritual journey wherein what he has believed is being interpreted in a broader way. To entertain such thoughts Nicodemus takes a risk – potentially sacrificing everything he has ever known and believed, along with the possible loss of his job, status, friends, and family. God invited Nicodemus on a journey, Nicodemus says, “yes.” The confirmation of the ‘yes’ comes later in the Gospel story when Nicodemus stands up for Jesus in the Sanhedrin reminding colleagues that the law required that persons to be blamed with heresy are to be heard before a judge; and at the time of Jesus death Nicodemus provides the customary embalming spices and assists Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus’ body for burial.

God comes – unknown, unannounced, unintroduced, unexpected – looking around our troubled world this coming goes unobserved and perhaps unwanted; at the same time, according to biblical stories we hear through the season of Lent, God comes and people respond, ‘yes.’
The crux of the text that confronts me this morning is the seemingly simple way to bring blessing into the world. It is a phrase we hear over and over again, during Lent, “Return to the Lord your God.” In the texts of today turning to God, Nicodemus and the Psalmist do this by asking questions; Abram does it by going on a journey. The journey moves forward with a statement or action of faith --- and then because the participants dare to go on the journey, sacrificing everything they have ever known – blessing is imparted. 

Psalm 121, a Psalm that Nicodemus would have known, would have sung, speaks to me in the simplest form. When asking the question, “from where will my help come?” I think not of journey or sacrifice, it is a cry from the depths of my being --- that bursts into hope and visions of a brighter future by the poetically articulated blessing. At a graveside, when I hear the Word proclaimed, I am so exhausted that the Words sink deep within and they settle.  I believe them by osmosis, by intuiting their truth. And in speaking them aloud, the blessings live into the lives of others who hear them.  

Professor of Old Testament, Rolf Jacobson, at Luther Seminary in St. Paul Minnesota writes that the “genre of blessing is under utilized in our world today.” He states, “I believe that every child of God should give and receive a blessing every day.” We could do that, we could impart spoken blessings to people around us as we walk through our days.  We could also practice the spiritual discipline shown through scripture texts – turn or seek the Lord and proclaim a statement of faith (even if you might doubt the statement at the time of speaking it).  In a troubled world, is our turning to God, the healing balm that becomes a blessing on the whole world?  I would like to believe that it is.

By coming here this morning, you turn and seek the Lord, you make a confession of faith; a blessing will be received in the world, a hundredfold, as you go into the world with healing, warmth of spirit, and bolstered hope.

The God of Peace, who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, make you complete in everything good so that you may do God’s will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in God’s sight; through Jesus Christ , to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.           
-pg 251, Evangelical Lutheran Worship Pastoral Care, Augsburg Fortress

Forget Fasting; Indulge in Kindness -Lent 1A

Holistic health practitioner, Matt Marchant, has compiled on his business page a group of short parables on love and relationship. After hearing read the story of Eve and Adam from Genesis, I couldn’t resist sharing this modern day parable with you.
 “Mulla Nasrudin was talking with a friend about his love life. “I thought I had found the perfect woman,” Mulla said. “She was beautiful and had the most pleasing features a man could imagine. She was exceptional in every way, except she had no knowledge.”
     “So I traveled farther and met a woman who was both beautiful and intelligent. But, alas, we couldn’t communicate.” “After further travels, I met a lady who had everything: perfect mind, perfect intelligence, and great beauty, all the features I was looking for, but...”
     “What happened?” asked the friend. “Why didn’t you marry her at once?”
     “Ah well,” said Mulla, “as luck would have it, she was looking for the perfect man.””

Genesis chapter 3 is the passage in the Bible that has been used as the basis for the doctrine of original sin. It has been deliberated on through the centuries about whose fault sin was/is, how it happened, what it all means. In the end, Eve, Adam, and serpent are not found to be perfect. The Oxford Annotated NRSV Bible comments: “Though this story is often taken by Christians as an account of ‘original sin,’ the word ‘sin’ never occurs in it.  Instead, it describes how the maturing of humans into civilized life involved damage of connections established [in the creation story] between the Lord God, man, woman, and earth.”

Through Lent we will be asked to enter wonderful and daunting stories from Hebrew scripture. The stories confront themes that so often humans ignore and prefer not to contemplate. We will be asked to contemplate right and wrong, blessings and cursings, life and death. The texts will have us pondering our humanity and what that means for the relationships involved in being human.
In past interpretation today’s story, so often dissolves into argument about sin, missing further learnings to be gathered from the richness of the text.

Much to my pleasure I read a line of commentary that allowed me to ponder the text in a new way. The commentary summed up the story saying: Human beings were formed with great care, to be in relationship with the creator, creation, and one another. The serpent’s promise to the first couple that their eyes would be opened led, ironically, to the discovery only that they were naked. (– Sundays and Seasons 2020, Augsburg.)
Think about that for a moment – Eve and Adam eat fruit from the tree of knowledge- and they only realize that they are naked; that is all. What I find interesting is what happens next, and perhaps this is the first  ‘sin’ as this seems so human to me – Eve and Adam choose to judge the nakedness; and it is judged as bad because they go about sewing themselves coverings to hide being naked. What I also find interesting is and perhaps in competition beside judging to be the first ‘sin,’ that the new knowledge is all about them, all about me; it is applied directly to the self; the information is used in a self-serving way and separates the body, the person, from the intimate experiences they have had of the world around them. This applied knowledge has introduced a visible boundary in relationships; there is a layer of protection between woman and man, between humans and creation, between Creator and creature.
Judging and separation are not the only ‘sins’ in competition for the first sin. Perhaps the story has a variant ending – what if the first couple, eating forbidden fruit, had risked opening their eyes further – was there a possibility of discovering, of knowing, of intuiting, of grasping the ultimate importance and godliness of recognizing the need of the other; of daring to encounter and experience intimate relationships with partners, creation, Creator?  Could the first couple have chosen to not get stuck in the tidbit of being naked, and rather embrace the larger consciousness?  Could they not have been inundated with kindness – a will to be an expression of kindness?

This past week the message in the church sign on Windsor St. changed.  For the season of Lent, the sign’s dictate to the neighbourhood is: forget fasting, indulge in kindness.

This phrase came about one night when I was dreaming about what to put in the sign. I was pondering Lent and Lenten practice, considering what I would find beneficial as a direction for the season.  I figured whatever words I needed to hear, might also be the words someone else needed.  Lent is a season that reflects on sin and temptation – starting this past Wednesday at Ash Wednesday service – we heard that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  We were reminded that we sin – questioning this - take a few moments after worship and read through the confession on page 253 in the front of the hymn book. We have all sinned. The call that comes to sinners in Lent is to turn from sin and return to the Lord our God; to see and hear that Lord is good and God’s steadfast love endures, that God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. It is from this pondering that the sign’s phrase made sense to me: forget fasting, indulge in kindness.

I, like Eve and Adam, don’t do so well when asked not to do something. When I think of fasting I think about everything that I am not allowed to eat or drink or do. My mind and my heart become occupied in being perfect in keeping the rule that has been set, and I loss the point of the fast in the first place – to draw closer in relationship with creation the giver of food, to grow in my relationship with farmer the provider of food, to grow in relationship with siblings who have no food – who need my food; to spend more time in prayer and reflection (rather than eating) to increase my relationship with God.
So the dictate to the community – forget fasting, indulge in kindness – is not suggesting one refrain from doing wrong, or try to be perfect, rather, the incentive is for one to concentrate and focus on actively working to be kind.  Shifting the focus from a negation point of view to a view focused on a positive virtue, completely changes my attitude and thus my human willingness to participate. Perhaps it is my years spent in Christian community, I see the practice of indulging in kindness as the counterpoint to original sin; the fullness of kindness lacks the sin of judgement, the sin of separation, the sin of not risking enough by stopping at our own threshold and not being open to the beyond.

For the next 40 days, I invite you to join with me and indulge in kindness.  In literature from Alcoholics Anonymous, kindness is named as essential for working through the 12 steps of the program. AA material states that to be kind is to be in service of those in need. One can do a kind act for self-serving purposes, but, this is not kindness and is of no help to the person doing the act. If I used one word to describe the 12 steps of anonymous programs I would say the theme is relationship. Kindness is a virtue of the heart, and when applied one sees need; need is found everywhere especially in our relationships.

For the next 40 days, I invite you to join with me and indulge in kindness. Catholicstrength.com says, Kindness is a virtue which “lifts the spirits” and “touches the hearts” of the people we encounter in our lives. When kindness is amplified by grace theologians call it an infused or supernatural virtue gifted to us in baptism, and when that virtue of kindness becomes part of our very nature – perfecting us in grace – it is a manifestation of the fruit of the Holy Spirit. 

We have been perfected  in grace through the waters of baptism. As we have drowned sin, washed, and risen with Christ, God’s grace continues to flow through us. God works through our very lives, when we chose to stop living first sins. That is to fast from judging and to stop looking at ourselves, our nakedness, our lack of whatever, and rather,  risk opening ourselves to the world around us, to drop barriers that separate us from the  intimate experiences and relationships we were called to in the very beginning in the connections established in the creation story between the Lord, man, woman, and earth.

For the next 40 days, I invite you to join with me and indulge in kindness.
Creator, when tempted to eat forbidden fruit, turn us from sin, infuse us with courage to practice the risky business of opening our hearts to the world around us. Give us the grace to indulge in kindness. Let an abundance of compassion overflow and overwhelm our neighbourhoods. Flood the world with lavish love. May this season of Lent gush with a grace that lift spirits and touch hearts.  Amen.

Honest Fear Births God's Kingdom

In the late 1990s as I was finishing school and about to start in my first parish, I saw an interview where Oprah was interviewing the author De Becker and talking about his book, “The Gift of Fear.”  The book, still in print, has mixed reviews – and you can google it if you want to know more.   When I read the book I found it helpful because he addressed the importance of what many call ‘women’s intuition.’ The book addresses the socialization of girls and women growing up in a world, where to get ahead, one learns to hide, down-play, and even ignore anything that might be thought of as ‘women’s intuition.’  Instances are described where women had an intuition before an potentially harmful incident happened, for instance before violence was perpetrated toward them: the hairs on their arms getting prickly, a sense of time standing still, a crawling sensation across their shoulders or up their spine, a knot in the stomach, an immediate desire to throw up.  De Becker calls this ‘the gift of fear,’ and a gift that should be honed and practiced and shared...not downplayed or ignored.

I think the book affected me because I notice things – I intuit things.  And yes, I didn’t share those moments with others, lest they categorized me with unfavourable adjectives.  

The gift of fear should be honed and practiced and shared. Today I begin with my recollections of this book because we are going to take a look at FEAR.  Last Sunday, you will recall, that the readings were reinterpretations of the Law from one generation to the next.  The essence of the Law remained the same, but the tidbits changed and the application of the Law varied as society and circumstances changed across the centuries. The starting point was consistent, love the Lord your God; relationship with ‘I am the Lord.’

We are reminded of this again with the words heard earlier from Leviticus: Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God am holy. You shall love your neighbour as yourself. I am the Lord.

Last week, as part of the explanation of the text, during the Kid’s Corner, the children talked about commandment #5 -You shall not kill.  Our attention was drawn to Luther’s explanation of the commandment.  The explanation begins: What does this mean for us?  We are to fear and love God...

Every time I use the catechism and the meanings provided, I receive feedback about the use of the word FEAR; fear in relation to God.  People don’t like it – we are to fear God.

The Roman Catholic Diocese of Arlington has Youtube videos dubbed, #2minutes2virtue. In the videos Catholic priests from the Diocese explain a virtue in a quick and articulate way.  They have one called, “Cultivating Holy Fear.”  The priest begins by asking, “Are you afraid of God?” And responds, “I hope not.” Then asks, “Do you fear God?” And responds, “I hope so.”  Just so you heard it, the priest asks, “Are you afraid of God? I hope not. Do you fear God? I hope so.”

Some might argue that the questions posed are just a discussion of semantics – that the questions are the same. I like the tension between the questions because I think this is where Christians live – in the tension- in 50 shades of fear, so to speak. We are to constantly wrestle with our understanding and experience of God, the Law, and how it is we live righteously or fail to do so. We are to wrestle with FEAR within this discussion.

In cultivating holy fear, the priest talks about how Christians have drawn too close to Jesus, in the sense that we have made Jesus too familiar. Jesus is like us, our friend. Go to any art gallery that has religious art, and you will see that Jesus is painted in a way that looks like the artist – same skin colour, hair, body shape, clothing. What has happened in our application of the Gospel is that we have found a comfortable Jesus, retelling the stories that give us hope, reciting the beautiful words and sayings that bring peace, and taking consolation in the thought that Jesus died and rose for me.  We are not afraid of this Jesus.  We have no fear of this Jesus. In essence we have reduced God to our level.

On most top ten lists of what people are afraid of one will find the fear of thunder, lightening, darkness, and heights. Lists that delve deeper include fear of enclosed spaces, commitment, intimacy, and death. All of these fears are articulated in the story of Moses on the mountain receiving the Law from the Lord. In our Leviticus text Moses is on the mountain with God receiving instruction. It is Moses talking with God; the people have long since drawn back from being in conversation with God in such a big way. When the cloud enclosed the mountain – dulling God’s glory for earthy eyes – when the mountains shook with God’s voice, when God’s power released in thunder and lightening, when God first connected with the people as they arrived in the wilderness- leaving slavery for freedom- the people felt as if they would die.  The people feared the Lord. The people pleaded with Moses to ask God not to come to them in such manner, rather, Moses was asked to approach God and the people would receive God’s Law through him.  The experience was too grand; God’s power too awesome; the intimacy of the moment too thorough and all-knowing; the sense of one’s minuteness too overwhelming; the glory of God – even in shadow, covered in cloud- was too abundantly expansive. The people feared the Lord.

As a people we are far removed from the mountain experience of the Exodus; and far removed from fear of the Lord.  It has been argued that such fear has diminished with the rise of science, the ability to explain thunder, lightening, clouds over mountains, and earthquakes.  This may be true, yet, attentive people -despite knowing the science- experience awe and wonder in moments of Mystery provided through nature; perhaps though shying away from using the phrase, experiencing the fear of the Lord.

I think the problem with FEAR -as a concept, an emotion- fear is talked about in negative terms. Fear does not easily sit with the rise of the self-made human.  Fear becomes something to control; to overcome. One is not to fear; or not to show it to others for that would be to give another power over you. Unfortunately fear insinuates weakness.

As society has reached an epidemic height of ‘its-all-about-me,’ there is no room left for fear of a power greater than oneself. Whether one is egocentric, egotistical, narcissistic, attention seeking, a drama queen- what-have-you; attention is not given to reflect on how tiny human life is; how fragile we are as individuals and as communities; how having fear and naming our fears would serve us well in conversations about issues facing the planet today --- everything from global warming, changing economies, the right to protest, the spread of viruses, the number of displaced people, tyranny, the polarization of people.

The priest in the cultivating holy fear video, say that Christians are to fear the Lord, for it is this fear, and only this fear, that has the grace and power to deliver us from the false fears that haunt us. We are to return to scripture from last week, from this week, hear and digest the words, I am the Lord. This is the starting point, from here we then are to go and love our neighbour, and as Jesus says in today’s gospel, love our enemies.  This very suggestion should make us at least a little afraid and returns us to the discussion of a comfortable Jesus, God reduced to our level.

We are not to find a comfortable Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus continues his reiteration of the Law to those who live the Law – expanding the Law from a simple set of rules, to a full bodied discourse on relationship and reconciliation.  It made people angry. It induced fear. If an expanded Law was lived, life would change – for the individual, for the community, for the world – it would mean a drastic change in power, a change in economics, a change in public practices; social systems would be upended, there would be a whole lot of loss and there would be gain; people -as people are- would be fearful of living the turmoil and instability of such drastic change. As example we were merely inconvenienced by the blockades of the past few weeks, fear giving us a lack of vision for what could be, can be, in God’s eyes must be.  In opening ourselves to our biggest fears – entering them fully- we will find the fear of the Lord waiting for us. Entering a time of suffering and pain – honest fear- to birth God’s kingdom is outside most people’s ability.  But this is exactly what Jesus’ followers are being asked to do.

We are to fear and love God so that we...

are graced with a  power that delivers us from the false fears that haunt us; and inspires us to cultivate the gift of holy fear  -- a gift that when honed, practiced, and shared empowers God’s people to enter a time of suffering and pain – honest fear- to birth God’s Kingdom, and work beyond human fear.

The Lord said, speak to the congregation, to the whole community and tell them:

Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.  Love your neighbour; love your enemies. I am the Lord.

the Law as Living Word

Epiphany 6A-2020
When I was little, the neighbourhood children liked to play Barbie, or house, or we would play ‘Duke’s of Hazard,’ a favourite TV show at the time – which meant lots of chasing each other in our imaginary cars. These were okay, but, when alone I would line up my stuffed animals and dolls and play teacher, lecturer, sometimes almost preacher.
This morning’s scripture texts are a treasure trove for a teacher, or a teaching preacher.

We have illustrated for us, through a variety of texts, how it is that scripture has been interpreted and taught through the centuries. We learn how scripture is living Word, by witnessing how it changes – yet remains consistent and true.
We begin the journey in Deuteronomy, a word that literally means the “second law.”  It is a second statement of the law, meaning it summarizes, re-interprets, explains, enhances and presents a nuanced text. The same law – in essence- yet made new for the people to whom it was being taught.
Deuteronomy is presented as Moses’ final reiteration of the law, 40 years after the original Law was given as the people entered the desert – they are now about to enter new land, and begin to settle and live in community.  The text itself is younger than Moses, probably originating in the seventh century BCE; the expression of the Law coincides with the distinctive religious and legal requirements used by King Josiah to reform the Temple and practices of his time.
Skipping ahead 650 years or so, we encounter Jesus, using the Law as it had been used since the very beginning – summarizing, re-interpreting, explaining, enhancing, presenting a nuanced text – in essence the same Law, made new for the people to whom it was being taught.
Between Deuteronomy and Jesus, the Law was Living Word, remaining the same -but changing for each generation. In this time, the Law was taught and passed on through 22 generations.
We can read of the Law in the hands of the Judges, the prophets, the kings. We see it rewritten in Proverbs – a book of rules to teach young men how to be in the world. This book spans a hundred years or so of additions; and Sirach, also known as Ecclesiasticus, follows many generations later (but well before Jesus) to once again make a discipline manual for young men. After Jesus, we can read of the Law in the hands of Peter, and Paul, in their reinterpretation of the Law for their time and place.
What we learn is that the Law is continually reflected upon, practiced, argued.  The Law has importance and God’s people have and continue to wrestle with it. The Law sets a foundation for ethics and morals, contributes to religious and civil laws, is used when people discuss sin.
What we learn by following the Living Word through scripture is that the Law although set in stone, is not. There were many times in the life of God’s people when there was no Temple in Jerusalem – so many of the Laws were set aside until a time when the Temple might be rebuilt. There were times through history when all portions of the Law could not be kept due to circumstance or situation. Various teachers had varying views – Jesus’ disciples plucked and chewed grain on the sabbath; Jesus healed on the Sabbath; they ate with women and those considered sinful – all seen as unlawful actions by Pharisaic teachers of Jerusalem at that time.  In the time of Paul, new understandings meant the setting aside of food regulations, Laws about circumcision, and so on.
What we learn by following the Living Word through scripture is that the Law is not as black and white as people so often try to make it. We also learn that the Law does not rank actions as better or worse – each law is presented – no judgement or qualification given. Murder, sexuality, mixing of fibers when making fabric, what not to eat, how far one can walk, how to farm, the role of women, the tithe to give to God... all are presented in equal terms. Each generation has their favourites, laws chosen over other laws, those practiced, those forgotten; those debated, those used to label sin.
It has been 67 generations or so, since the time of Jesus; 89 from the time of Deuteronomy... and today we are once again called to reflect on interpretations of the Law.
Deuteronomy tells us that God has given a choice.  The choice is life and prosperity, or death and adversity. The interpretation of the Law is that people have a responsibility to apply the Law to life, as a people and as individuals.  The choices made as to how the Law is lived, will affect the outcome. Choice is about attitude. Do you live the Law because you have to, or because you want to? We learn from the interpretation offered by Deuteronomy that the whole Law is framed in one phrase, “you obey the commands of the Lord your God by loving the Lord your God;” followed by the responsibility to walk God’s ways, observe God’s commandments and ordinances. The beginning of choice, life, prosperity, attitude, is relationship with God. Loving God.
In every reiteration of the Law, loving God, does not change as the starting point for following the Law.
Loving God is the essence of the Law; the ordinances and commandments are illustrations as to how one expands their love for God- expanding one’s love for God is an ever expanding circle of rules that navigate human relationships ---to lead one to loving neighbour and loving creation.
Before Jesus teaches and expounds on points of the Law, he says, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets.  I have come, not to abolish them, but to fulfill them.” Jesus is assuring the listener that the Law remains – the same but changed – fuller. What we hear Jesus doing is expanding the basic Law to address the realities of the complexity of human living. Jesus delves into the nitty-gritty of failed human relationship using specific examples from his time and expands what it means to love God in such circumstances.  It is also quite clear that living the basic Law does not bring the kingdom of God to earth in the present; fullness of life requires going beyond.

Jesus ruffles a lot of people’s held beliefs and practices with his teaching of the Law. 
Everyone is held accountable – called murderers – as Jesus expands the Law to include arguing, holding grudges, withholding forgiveness, those with unreconciled relationships.
Men are held accountable for their actions with women, a revolutionary idea for the time; and perhaps with the #meToo movement not just Jesus’ time but ours too.
Then Jesus’ addresses divorce,  some scholars suggesting that Jesus is really pointing fingers at an epidemic of faux-marriage, non-marriage at that time– meaning people not committing at all to entering into covenant with another person in a marriage relationship. 
I can’ help but think that the whole point of Jesus’ interpretation of the Law is to have listeners annoyed enough that they reflect on their own lives, on the choices they make-EVERY CHOICE- is it compatible with loving God?

Eric Barreto, New Testament Professor at Princeton, wrote: “In the end, to what are these commandments calling us? Not to a checklist of morality but to a flourishing of life.  Not to a baseline of decency but to an embodied, relational, transformative encounter with all whom we meet.  Not to a sufficient set of hurdles for righteousness but to a path of wholeness with creature and creator alike.”

Today’s take aways:
• The essence of the Law is loving God. Loving God is the starting point for following the Law.
• We have been given the freedom to choose life or death, prosperity or adversity.
• As God-lovers we have a responsibility to act beyond the basic law.
• We are called to further God-love by making choices that build our human relationships and our relationship with creation.
• We are to continually reflect, interpret, apply, argue, teach, reiterate, the Law for our time and place.
• With every choice we make, the first question to slip through our minds and our hearts should be– is this compatible with loving God?

God whom we wish to love,
We give thanks for the Law – Living Word- passed from generation to generation. In its essence is You; hoping, praying that human beings take responsibility to live life choosing relationship. As we focus and strive on loving you, help us with the choices we make in our every day lives – every choice- may we reflect whether it is compatible with loving You. Through our actions and growing relationships may your kingdom come. Amen.

Follow Me: A Loaded Request

Epiphany 3A-2020
1 Corinthians 1: 10-18 and Matthew 4: 12-23
Rev. Dr. Kimberlynn McNabb

January 26th is the date on the Christian calander that commemerates Timothy, Titus, and Silas; as missionaries in the early church.  All were at one time companions of Paul, who accompanied him on missionary journeys.  Timothy and Titus ended up as Bishops, Silas was imprisoned and later freed by earthquake. One needed to watch what one declared. Saying, “I belong to Paul,” could have had you either thrown in prison or elected Bishop.
Paul tells the people of the church in Corinth to only declare that one belongs to Christ.
This declaration will change one’s life, more than being elected Bishop or thrown in prison.
Let us consider what it means to belong to Christ; to be a Jesus follower.

Social media is full of platforms, like Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook; each is used by people to gather followers. One can follow groups and people who interest them. Sites have follow buttons, and once clicked, you are a follower. The more followers, the more famous you are.
In a world where follow buttons are common place, how do we hear Jesus’ words, “Follow me?”
My guess is that Jesus would have had millions of social media followers.  Some would be watching for words of wisdom or challenge; others would follow his whereabouts so they could join him to learn, debate, or be healed.  Others would be followers to see what crazy things this man Jesus was going to do; Jesus actions would be their entertainment. He would be as popular on Twitter as Donald Trump.
To be a follower today only takes the clicking of a button. That’s all. There are no requirements to actually read the posts or content created by the person they are following. One need not comment or scroll through all posts.  One doesn’t even have to like the person or their beliefs. There is no commitment to being a follower. You are a follower forever, unless you click the unfollow button.
Jesus, social media free, calls to Andrew and Peter, “Follow me,” and immediately they leave their boats and nets.
Jesus calls to James and John, “Follow me,” and immediately they leave their boats, nets, and father.
Andrew, Peter, James, and John did more than simply click a button, and let life carry on as it was.  Everything changed, there was commitment, from the moment they chose to follow Jesus.

In the early 90s, Wilfrid Laurier University had a Hebrew professor named Dr. Fischer. Dr. Fischer was a gentleman in his 70s who wore thickly knit Scandinavian type sweaters and a poor-boy cap. He was a quiet teacher, methodical in method, and more or less succeeded in getting all his students to pass.  He was a favourite teacher for many because if you followed his lesson one learned about his passions.  He loved talking about his passions. Students could get him to regale stories or points of astute academia, or tidbits of new texts being found.  Dr. Fischer would get all excited, worked up he would bounce through the class, and talk with his hands.
A favourite topic was verse 6 of Psalm 23: “Surely your goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.”  Excitedly he explained to students that the word “follow” was a poor English translation of the Hebrew text. The English “follow,” makes the words of the Psalm comforting and reassuring.  In Hebrew, the word in the text is better translated as “pursue.” Meaning, God’s goodness and mercy will  pursue you, stalk you. You can’t, no matter how much you try, get away from God’s grace and mercy. Grace and mercy will chase you, even harass you.
What happens, then, if we were to hear Jesus’ invitation to the disciples as, “Pursue me,””Chase after me?” The invitation is not a simple click of a button. Pursue and chase is dangerous.  Consider Hollywood movies that contain car chases, police in pursuit; they are full scale drama, speed, aggression, high energy. There is collateral damage, and the possibility of prison, or life, or death. The chase is not for the weak of heart, or the stomach as may be the case for some.
Thesaurus.com suggests these words as alternatives for follow:
go after, seek, pursue; accompany, attend; badger, bate, but; hound, hunt; persevere, persist, plague; shadow, stalk.
After reading the synonyms, knowing that “pursue” is the best translation for the word in Psalm 23, the best translation for the original word in Matthew is worth investigating. The Greek word that we hear as “follow” literally means, “to be in the same way with;” as in two people were walking along the same road, or travelling a similar journey. The appropriate English translation is, to accompany.
Jesus calls Andrew and Peter, “Accompany me,” and immediately they leave their boats and nets.
Jesus calls James and John, “Accompany me,” and immediately they leave their boats, nets, and father.
Andrew, Peter, James, and John, did more than simply click a button, and let life carry on as it was.  Everything changed, there was commitment, from the moment they chose to follow Jesus.

This morning Jesus invites you, calls to you, “Accompany me,” and immediately...
Do you click a follow button? Do you leave your car, and job, and family?
I suspect that some of us dropped what we were doing when we heard the Gospel.  Jesus’ invitation was a recognition that we needed to, wanted to, change our lives and the way we were living. For many more of us, immediately following, has been a growth process that has been a journey of relationship with God and others over years.
Unfortunately, we have read a weak translation of what Jesus was asking, and calling the disciples to.  We now have to shift our understanding from “Follow me,” to something far more difficult.  Jesus invites us to accompany him.
Rachel Svenson, who works with young adults on ELCA Global Mission projects, begins her “Living Lutheran” blog with a quote from Linda Crockett’s book, “The Deepest Wound:”
Accompaniment goes beyond solidarity in that anyone who enters into its risks suffering the pain of those we would accompany ... accompaniment may include all of these acions (protest marches, pressing for change in law, civil disobedience) but it does not necessarily share the assumption that we can fix, save, or change a stiuation or person by what we do.  It calls for us to walk with those we accompany, forming relationship and sharing risks, joys, and lives.  We enter into the world of the one who suffers with no assurance that we can change or fix anything ... accompaniment is based on hope despite evidence that there is little reason for optimism.
Accompanying Jesus -Belonging to Christ – is not for the faint of heart or stomach.
Jesus called Andrew, Peter, James, and John into a life of accompaniment.  The passage we read this morning has John the Baptist in prison for his speaking truth to the powers of the day.  Jesus and his followers – people accompanying him – were often protesting and breaking laws (Jesus healing on the Sabbath, Jesus touching untouchables); the group as a whole gathered in large numbers for sit-ins to listen to Jesus (an illegal action in the Roman Empire); Jesus and those accompanying him bated the religious leaders with near heretical blasphemies, and insighted angst by taunting the authority of the Roman Empirer.  Every moment was a risk, as Jesus entered into relationship, with the powers of the day. Every moment was a risk for those who would accompany him.  Every moment was a risk as Jesus gave hope to the poor, the widow, the children; justice to the oppressed and imprisoned; and healing for the lame, the leperous, and demon possesed.

Jesus’ call, “accompany me,” was a loaded statement. Jesus did not invite people for a walk in the park, or stroll around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus’ call was for followers to risk being in relationship, knowing that God’s grace and mercy would be in pursuit to assist those who say “yes” to accompany others with all their hearts and souls and minds.

God, this morning we declare, “I belong to Christ.” We immediately drop our excuses, our fears, and all present preoccupations, to accompany you. Give us the courage “to belong to Christ” in a time when we are taught that to follow requires no commitment.

the Voice of the Lord: Louder and Louder

Baptism of our Lord A -2020
I once attended a rather interesting play at the Elora Gorge Conservation Area in ON. The Elora Gorge is a large section of parkland, full of trails above and below a 22 metre high cliff-face that runs along the deep and fast moving Grand River. It really is spectacular and the sound of the water in some spots is almost deafening. On this particular evening a group of people gathered at the remains of the old mill; remaining is part the foundation platform, and a few walls a little taller than myself.  This was the backdrop for the play. I assumed the play would happen in the ruin and we would simply watch and enjoy. 
It was past time for play to start, when there was commotion in the gathered audience.  It took a few moments to realize that the play had started.  One really had to pay attention and look around to catch what was going on.  We had no idea who the actors were and there was no sound system. We gathered what was happening from watching the reactions of those closest to the characters, or catching the actions that the actor had made; the audience spread what had happened to those standing behind them.  It was rather chaotic with the actors not being discernable from the audience.  We became as much a part of the play as the actors.  At one point there was a wedding, and towns-people came through the crowd handing out noise makers, banging pots and pans, dragging bystanders by the hand, dancing in jovial lines, moving the crowd around... I was cajoled into joining a party reveller, to refuse would make a worse scene than going along; I ended up on the foundation platform three feet from the bride and groom – I was all of a sudden part of the wedding party; the crowd was cheering and clapping and the pots and pans were being banged... I was like a deer in headlights...  I was uncomfortable, not sure I was to be where I was.  I felt out of place. The scene was WAY too loud, and I didn’t want to be asked to do anything or be pushed into an another unexpected role.  The wind picked up, the dew fell and settled, night descended, lanterns were lit--- and eventually the play came to an end as we all left the scene.
This is the image that came to mind when I reflected on the Psalm for this morning.
We have a very loud psalm.  The Voice of the Lord is over the waters, the voice thunders, the voice breaks and splits trees, the voice shakes the wilderness; it is mighty and full of splendor. I picture the wilds, with mighty wind, dust swirling, chaos, danger; a place for people not to be.

The origins of the psalm are found in the land and peoples North of Israel. Mentioned are the places of Lebanon, Syria, and Kadesh.  The words of the psalm echo the Mediterranean sensibility that it was the  gods that were the power of the natural phenomena – thunder, waves, wind, earthquake, volcano, storm- chaos and grand sound. There was other noise in the wilderness too.  Since the forming of peoples, caravans have come and gone, armies have trudged across the desert and back again – land has been laid waste, crops burnt, resources pillaged.  In more recent years, the land has been littered with landmines and missile shells; flattened by armoured tanks and the flight of millions of people.  The sound in the wilderness is loud – it is gun fire and rockets, mother’s wailing for lost fathers and children crying as they run for their lives. It is chaos and it is loud!

The Psalm and the Voice from heaven that we hear in the Gospel sit in contrast to each other.
As the psalmist sings, the voice of the Lord is over the waters, so the voice of the Lord is over the Jordan; yet, the voice heard comes from the heavens as the heavens open up to Jesus.  Matthew tells us that Jesus sees the heavens open and the dove descend, so we know Jesus also hears  - This is my Son the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  The way the story is told it is rather undramatic in comparison to the Voice of the Lord from the Psalm. The event is somewhat underwhelming and subtle; one would have had to be paying attention, listening.  There would have been a large crowd out to see John the Baptist, and I imagine it was kind of like the play at the Elora Gorge – figuring out who was John, pushing yourself through the crowd to see and hear, but not too close so you could escape if you wanted to. The passage does not tell us who else hears the voice confirming that God is pleased with Jesus. The voice is not thundered across the wilderness in a grand majestic announcement; it is whispered and will grow in strength in coming days and weeks.

Jason Byassee from Vancouver School of Theology notes that, The voice of the Lord comes to the world as a baby - born without the ability to speak – just like Alastor who is being baptized today. Now Jason also reflects that the inability to speak is simply a loll before the storm; after Jesus’ baptism the voice of the Lord gets louder and louder.  The voice will call for justice, the voice spoken will have the blind see, prisoners  set free, and those who have lived in darkness will see a great light;  through the voice the dead will be raised.          
This is not unlike what is to happen and does happen through the sacrament of Baptism, for now Alastor is quiet—well mostly quiet... but there is to come a time when baptismal promises get lived out, what we learn in this place gets lived out with our voices and our words getting louder and louder; we are given voices to proclaim Christ in word and deed, to care for others and the world God has made, to work for justice and peace.

I just finished reading a memoir by Stephanie Saldana, an American student, attending a Catholic University, who after 9/11 went on scholarship to Syria to learn Arabic; the idea of the scholarship was to foster relationships with Arabs and teach young bright Americans that Muslims were not terrorists. While she was in Syria there was a lot of movement of people, displaced by civil unrest, conflict, and war.  She lived in the Orthodox Christian section of the old city of Damascus. It was not all that safe to be in Syria: one had to watch what one said, where one went, how one dressed; to be cautious as neighbours often informed authorities about people stepping outside the rules. There were the sounds of parades yelling for Americans to go home; there was the sound of rumbling tanks, missiles, explosions.  There was the sound of religion, the call of the minaret for prayer, church bells from Orthodox buildings and Catholic cathedrals; there was the noise of people in the streets and crowded markets. She recounts all sorts of situations and instances where the world descended on Straight St. in Damascus – Jews, Christians, Muslims; Arabic in dialects from Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Iran, Palestinian territories...it was a microchaosim of peoples who in other places simply did not get along.  And here amidst loud voices from the wilderness, Stephanie talks of her daily routine and conversation with neighbours and street vendors – these relationships formed because everyone was displaced – here everyone belonged. And it is here that Stephanie found God, whom she had lost so many years before – in the voice of the rug repairer who quoted the Koran, a fellow Jewish classmate who continued to observe holy days despite it being illegal, in learning to speak Arabic in an array of dialect --- it was poetry.  Arabic’s unique phrasing was the music – the quiet voice, beauty that whispered to the heart. It was the quirky greetings in the neighbourhood that fostered peace  – when peace was the last thing one would expect.

At the beginning I talked about my experience of unexpectedly participating in an outside play that was chaotic and loud, ---how I felt out of place, uncomfortable, unsure, and hesitant as to what could come next. There were voices and noise swirling all around and I did not feel like I belonged. Since then I have experienced a similar sensation living life.  There is a lot of noise and chaos.  There are many voices in the world. Often I feel like I do not belong.  ...  until I am reminded that the voice of the Lord moves over the waters. I am drawn in by the thought of the psalmist who speaks of the Voice of the Lord being a majesty and splendor above the chaos and being in the chaos – a creating power – Word to infuse the very elements of life.  Today I am drawn back to the voice of the Lord moving over the waters, in water of the baptism font and the promises of the hushed voice whispering “you are a child of God, beloved” – a creating power – Word to infuse my spirit with life, with belonging, a naming.  

Beloved, the Voice of the Lord is loud, the voice of the Lord whispers – God is in all and is all. Listen for the voice of creating power – Word that infuses the elements of life.  Participate in creating power, in word that infuses life, do so by claiming the words of baptism; you are a child of God, beloved... now therefore be the Voice of the Lord getting louder and louder: proclaiming Christ in word and deed, caring for others and all God has made, and working for justice and peace.   Amen.

Advent 2A: The Peaceable Kingdom

Today’s headline:  John the hippy is in the desert smoking weed!  .....

I editorialized the story for the modern ear.  John the Baptist was not a hippy and was not smoking weed, however, the headline is directive as to what was going on in the desert.
John was preaching a message that was anti-establishment.
John’s vision of the future and the kingdom were very different from what was being spoken by the religious leaders of his day.
John was partaking in activity, that although not illegal, was off-putting to many, not understandable, and not acceptable in polite society; for goodness sake, his father Zechariah was a priest and along with wife Elizabeth were upstanding citizens.
John was out in the wilds not caring what people thought – or at least he didn’t let what other people thought, stop him from harshly proclaiming a baptism of repentance; to be followed by a life that bore fruit worthy of repentance.
John demanded of those who came to be baptized a sincere resolution to reform their life. Those who simply came to see, and gawk; to get a selfie with the passionate windswept John, or to capture a video or blip for the social media frenzy that would take place today ---with hashtags like #crazyprophet #voicecriesinthewilderness #camelshair #locustsandwildhoney #youbroodofvipers --- John vehemently confronted this group called them names, accused them of false pretenses, more or less told them they would go to hell (but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire).
John, labelled eccentric and indignant, claimed to be a mere shadow of the baptizer to come- Jesus. Terrifying.
John was wild with the urgency for conversion, high with the urgency for people to prepare for the coming Christ, ferocious with an urgency to be awake for the end of time.

There is no headline that could sanitize John the Baptist and his work in the desert of Judea. There is no headline that could make John’s message palatable; repent for the reign of God is at hand. There is no headline that could twist the words into something comfortable.  The message is harsh, direct, and painful.
Look at the images of the text:
It is painful - to make roads straight – if you have been on highway 103 over the past year and witnessed the dynamiting of bedrock, the crushing of stone, the spreading of gravel to make the new highway, it has been hard, dirty, and time-consuming work.
It is painful- to wear camels hair – if you have ever worn something that is made of wool and it has made you itch, or it gets wet and smells like farm, you know.
It is painful – to be called names, you brood of vipers; to have one’s ego knocked down, you’re not so great, God can make children for Abraham out of these rocks;
It is painful – if you are a tree- to be cut down; or for some people to watch trees get cut down for no reason.
It is painful – to think of baptism with fire rather than water; to consider judgement and purification in the process.
It is painful – to think about death, our death, the death of loved ones; where do they go? Where do we go? Is it a metaphor or is there unquenchable fire?
John the hippy -I mean- Baptizer is in the desert proclaiming –Repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near.
This is both frightening and exhilarating! Welcome to the tension of Advent.

The tension is evident throughout Advent scripture.  The prophet Isaiah began his words this morning with images of judgment, striking the ruthless, and slaying the wicked; in turn the poor and afflicted receive justice. Then Isaiah, in a very non-John-the-Baptist-way, created a beautiful piece of poetry, not to frighten us into repentance, but, to draw the hearers heart into an exhilarated moment of believing the possibility of a peaceable kingdom. The wolf and lamb will lie together, the leopard and the goat side by side, the calf and lion grazing together with a child guiding them, lion and ox eating hay together, and children playing in the dens of snakes and not being hurt. This comfortable poem is an indirect way to weave into a human heart a truth not heard in the surrounding world.  The story is very serious, although couched in comfort, the poem describes earth-shattering change, an upheaval of the natural order; as John the Baptist’s story indicates this kind of change is painful. Isaiah describes a change in the very nature of the animals; none of the animals in the poem are acting in the way they were created to act in order to survive. They are not living by animal instinct. Fear, protection, preservation – have all dissipated, vanished. The subtle idea being planted is the hope, the possibility, that if animal nature can so drastically change, so too can human nature.  Imagine human beings dramatically changed, turning from a proclivity to live from our shadow side. Fear, self-protection, self-preservation ---dissipated; jealously, anger, coveting, vengeance, judgement, bullying, lust—vanished; gone.
Isaiah painted for us a picture of John the Baptists’ railings in the wilderness: repent for the reign of God has come near. When come in its fulness it is a complete change of nature. Frightening and exhilarating.

In the early 1800s there was a Quaker minister named Edward Hicks. He was captivated by the words of Isaiah 11. Over a lifetime he painted more than 62 works of this prophecy – called the Peaceable Kingdom.
His early work had delightful animals – lions, leopards, cows, ox, sheep, goats, snakes, with little children- all happy, content, serene, filled with hope. In the pictures there were often groupings of people sometimes Quaker siblings, numerous examples that included prominently placed people of the Lenape First Nation.
Edward was deliberate in the inclusion of the Lenape who illustrated his sense of reconciliation and the Quaker practice of the values of friendship an love which Christ came to teach humans.  This relationship reminder was to direct people to honour the 1681 treaty of perpetual friendship signed with Pennsylvania’s founder William Penn—a treaty that by Hicks’ time had been disregarded.
The Quakers of Goose Creek, (later Lincoln, Virginia) acted like John in the wilderness – anti-establishment, creating a different vision. Before the American Civil War, they publicly acted and spoke against slavery; official written documents included an acknowledgement of women friends being part of the collective voice; and took an anti-war stance and declared themselves conscientious objectors. They practiced passivism, showing kindness and courage.
Hicks returned again and again to the peaceable kingdom because it was an expression of the Quaker understanding of the Inner Light, which referred to an understanding that salvation could be attained by yielding one’s will to the Christ-with-in.  Isaiah expressed the idea in the breaking down of barriers so that all could work and live together in peace.  Unfortunately, Edward’s art caused trouble; it was a bit of a John the Baptist move on his part. Quakers were a Society of Friends who shied away from any sort of ornamentation in their meeting halls, and also in their homes. Edward was between a rock and a hard place, as it was the selling of ornamental work – pictures of the peaceable kingdom-that gave him the means to support his family of five children.
In the early years, Edward had hope that humankind would establish peace on earth, by exercising biblical principles; that others would join Quakers in a bringing near the kingdom of God.  As years went on,  as Edward became more cynical about human beings abilities, the animals in his renderings of the peaceable kingdom became tense, exhausted, sometimes showing teeth; and the last paintings have animals like leopards depicted fighting with each other. He was disappointed that God’s kingdom would never be a reality on earth in its fullness --- in this loss of hope, he turned fervently towards Christ.

Advent 2 traditionally lights the candle of peace – Edward wrestled with the tension of the Advent season – the Peaceable kingdom, Christ’s kingdom now and not yet.  Isaiah offered a poem to inspire -the Peaceable Kingdom, to draw humankind to the possibility that humankind can change; be different, live peace. John the Baptist with no holds bar, demanded -demands- repent for the kingdom of God has come near; the reign of God is at hand. Frightened and exhilarated--- we go this week, to wrestle with the tension of what currently is, and what -if we turn our will to the Christ-with-in-  is promised possibility!

De-creation. Recreation. Reading Aloud in times of Apocalyptic Text

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed up on the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pilotless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

This is the Word of the Lord according to...? The prophet Haggai? Malachi? Isaiah? Wait – its from the beginning of a Gospel, Mark? Luke? ... It is the Gospel according to Irish poet, William Butler Yeats.
We heard from Isaiah: For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. We heard from Luke: The days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down. Nation will rise against nation... and so on.
What is it about this kind of literature that it is repeated from generation to generation across cultures and boundaries?  Texts that speak of DE-CREATION. The texts mention the noisy din of war and rumours of war, the devastation and upheaval of environments and ecosystems taxed beyond limits, the disrespect and ill-regard  ---cruelty--- toward fellow human beings.  This de-creation was not meant to be --- it seems humans are insistent on messing up God’s continued creating of a new heaven, a new earth.
What is it about this kind of literature? This kind of literature -the language of apocalyptic text- challenges the status quo, continually planting the idea that there are other options as to how to live – NEW, re-newed, wisdom led and fed ways. Apocalyptic texts tell us that whatever the circumstance we are facing, it will not always be this way; change is inevitable. In Luke’s apocalyptic moment he reminds us – as he always does: do not be terrified.
When one hears the text it is sometimes hard to not get pulled into the images of fire and destruction, of war, persecution, and terror ---  to listen with different ears, to pull out the Gospel (which is God’s continued action to bring life), and in this to find hope.  God is creating and we have been invited to be a part of it.
This new thing God is creating – is about to create--  is described in the final sentence of every piece of apocalyptic literature.  We heard read aloud from Isaiah, Luke, and Yeats:
They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.
By your endurance you will gain your souls.
Its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born
In some text there is promise throughout. Luke’s rendition is a foretaste of the what is to come in his Gospel sequel – the book of Acts, where the Holy Spirit comes on the day of Pentecost – changing the disciples lives forever.  Luke’s Jesus promises: I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. Wisdom is not just a state or a quality someone possesses. Wisdom is described as the breath of the power of God, a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty, a reflection of eternal light, a spotless mirror of the working of God and an image of God’s goodness. This description comes from the extra biblical book, The Book of Wisdom.  Imagine --- God giving such to human beings; new creations where the breathe of the power of God, a pure emanation of the glory of God, an image of God’s goodness, comes through us. There is power in the words of apocalyptic text; planting the idea that some day God will use us in this way to confound the status quo and say “there is a different way.”
Scripture has been told and read, poetry recited, stories recounted, ALOUD for as long as humans can remember.   The tales tell of war, struggle, famine, sickness; anger, revenge, sadness; overcoming monsters and obstacles; finding love, hope, acceptance; the literature contains woes and blessings, opens the hearer to the intimacy of human relationships, and seeks to make sense of a world -and life- that is fraught with complexity and confusion.
I have been reading a book about the importance and benefit of reading aloud, and being read to. Church is one place where adults are read to. Every week we hear various pieces of literature read from sacred text – and sometimes from works that are outside the Canon of Scripture. The texts we hear help us strive to make sense of the world, to say and wrestle with what is written, and feel what we might not be able to express.  Literature allows us to move through a vast array of emotions quickly, stretching the brain by imprinting ideas to be tucked away for later reflection. 
The book reflects on the studied healing power of reading to those in the hospital, rather than conversation that often gets stuck in the complaints of the day. The book remarks on the improvement of function and emotional calm brought by reading to those with dementia and Alzheimer’s.
Meghan Gurdon, also tells a beautiful story from history, which I recount in my own words:  Once upon a time, 1865 in Cuba to be exact,  a man named Martinez organized public readers to read the newspaper to the working class- only 15% of whom could read for themselves. The next year, public readers moved into the Havanna cigar factory – the cigar-rollers even pitched in to pay the reader.  Listening sure helped the workers by offering a distraction, something of interest, outside the mundane and repetitive rolling of tobacco leaves hour after hour. For six months the workers revelled in a sea of words and thoughts and ideas, until --- until the authorities put a stop to filling workers with dangerous ideas.  Afraid of the power being given to the working class, growing ideas and thoughts, public readings were banned. It wasn’t the first time books and literature were taken from the hands of the working class and it wouldn’t be the last.
A few years later, a son of a public reader, had moved to Florida with other Cubans seeking a new life. Remembering the heart of his father, and his father’s love of literature, and his sense of purpose to read aloud, the son began to read to cigar workers in Key West; the newspaper in the morning and novels in the afternoon.  He sat above and behind the cigar-rollers so his voice would carry, there cross-legged and spectacled he took the whole factory to places of great imaginings: around the world on pirate ships, to deserts and oasis, to great kingdoms, and to walk in the shoes of the cigar workers favourite character, the Count of Monte Cristo.
In the time of Jesus, the authorities did not much like the literature that Jesus shared with the disciples and the people (including the marginalized, the poor, the forgotten, the widow) who gathered around to hear Jesus. Jesus’ words were a disruption to the status quo and gave people ideas that balked against a heavy handed wealth acquiring ruling class.  As Jesus told stories, read scripture, wrestled with the Law, made apocalyptic pronouncements, people’s imaginations grew, affecting emotions, imprinting ideas, and bringing hope to a people who had forgotten how to hope, and thus, how to live into God’s new creation.
It was the same in the time of the prophet Haggai, Isaiah, or poet Yeats.  Text was read to empower human beings, to remind them of the essence of their being – created by the great Creator and then filled with Wisdom who would speak holy words through ordinary people, to continue the work of creation.
The beauty of being read to is not the expectation that we understand every word.  It is a growing of capacity for language, idea, vision, and a turning from de-creation to NEW CREATION.  I will admit poetry was never my favourite type of literature – at least not when every ounce of meaning was to be taken from the words – for me it was the feeling left behind by the hearing of the words, it was the communion of the community listening together and interacting in the process; it IS the ahhs and ooohs and yikes and the AMENs collectively shared.
Yeats poem, the Second Coming, is a foretaste of the readings to come over the next five weeks.  Next week we celebrate the reign of the Christ – the last Sunday of the church year.  We collectively read about Christ dying and rising, to remind us the ‘why’ of returning to Advent the week following and progressing via sacred text to the celebration of Christmas. In times when the noise of the world overpowers the falconer, when anarchy is loosed, innocence lost, and it feels like the centre is about to let go, and around us things fall apart...We come to read the texts aloud, so to stir up the Wisdom of the creator, so that facing a world rushing to consumer Christmas and wars and rumours of wars, we might be given the words to speak louder than the status quo, words that signal:  a new way -HOPE- ; a new vision -PEACE; a new heaven -JOY; a new earth - LOVE.