Luke 2:1-7, Matthew 1:18-24, 2:13-15
Ann Weems, in her book “Kneeling in Bethlehem”, wrote these lines in the poem “Getting to the Front of the Stable?” We know little about Joseph, except that he was from the line of King David, and worked in Nazareth as a carpenter. Matthew and Luke present him as a kind, and deeply spiritual man. ...the opening of Matthew’s Gospel gives the whole of David’s line, to prove Joseph comes from King David. It is a puzzle as to why he is a carpenter in Nazareth, when he is a descendant of a wealthy land-owning family in Bethlehem, royal blood flowing in his veins. Work as a carpenter was equivalent to slave labour. Something drastic must have happened. The second-century Book of James and fourth century History of Joseph the Carpenter present him as a widower with children at the time he met Mary in Nazareth. I would assume that this is the origin of the idea that Joseph was older than Mary
William Willimon, former Dean of Duke University Chapel, now a bishop in Alabama, tells of an incident which happened while preparing for the Christmas pageant at Duke Chapel. The director of the pageant had just received a phone call from the mother of the young man who was to play Joseph. Her son was sick and would not be able to play his part. “We have no Joseph!” was the directors cry. “Not to worry,” Willimon reassured her. “We can get a shepherd to fill in. Joseph doesn’t have a speaking part. He just stands there.”
It occurred to me, watching the movie “Nativity Story” again, that the interpretation of the whole story really put “legs” under Joseph, so to speak. He was a real person, with real feelings, who also went against the culture of his people. Mary could not have made it without him. Probably neither could Jesus.
The texts tell us that Joseph also had visions. When he is ready to put Mary aside and not marry her, an angel comes to him. And he listens! When they are in danger in Bethlehem, another warning comes, and he takes Mary and Jesus to live in Egypt until Herod is dead. He gives up everything to save the two of them. It was custom that when a man agreed to take on a child not of his own making, he still became that child’s father for the purposes of records and posterity. The only way Jesus could have descended from the line of David was if Joseph was willing to take him as his own. In fact, Joseph is a critical part of the story, and yet we have reduced him to the role of potted plant on a stage. A non-speaking part which just stands there. In stage lingo, he would be the equivalent of the spear-carrier, the expendable extra who gets bumped off as the tale unfolds.
I want to stand up for Joseph. He was a critical and integral part of this whole scenario. He wasn’t an extra who just stood there. In every reading of the story, all the carols we sing, all the art work, Mary and the shepherds and the kings, all get the attention. Joseph is stuck at the back of the stable, wearing brown and holding a staff, looking as if he really has nothing to do with this.
I want to bring him to the front of the stable. In our tradition Mary has been recognised as the first disciple. As little more than a child herself, she was asked to break completely with culture and tradition, risk the displeasure of the man to whom she was engaged, to follow God’s call.
If Mary was the first disciple, I suggest that Joseph was the second. When I say disciple, though, let me be clear. Both these people were not followers of Jesus - they were Israelites called by God and told they were to be parents of the Messiah, the one for whom all Israel.
Let’s look at the two texts - first, from Matthew:
The birth of Jesus happened in this way: Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph was a righteous man, and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he thought to quietly put her aside.
As he was considering this, a messenger of God appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, take Mary as your wife, because her child comes from the Holy Spirit. She will have a son, and his name should be Joshua, which means “The Lord saves.”
When Joseph woke up, he did what the messenger had told him and took Mary home as his wife....
.....and from Luke:
So Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee, to Bethlehem in Judea, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Joseph knew the Scriptures, and he generally lived with the scriptures as a guide. What the scriptures said was clear; he should get rid of the disgrace of Mary, and get a legal decree separating them before a marriage took place. It was tantamount to a divorce. - and that was the gentler interpretation of the law.
But Joseph, instead of interpreting literally and to the letter of the law, chooses the God of compassion, of kindness, love, forgiveness. I am sure he didn’t sleep a lot. What had happened to Mary had not only changed her life in the village of Nazareth, it had changed his as well. No matter what he did, he would be remembered either as the guy who *did* get taken for a ride, or almost got taken. The law was clear. But rather than endanger her or the baby, he decides to simply separate from her quietly. Then a messenger comes to him, with the same message. It is safe to take Mary as his wife. And Joseph says yes.
Rev. Joseph Harvard, at First Presbyterian Church in Durham, NC, says this about Joseph’s choice.
“He said a bold, brave, risky yes to God. He said a yes to the surprising God, who not only asked Joseph to say yes, but asked him to look beyond the clear lines of the law, to see that God was doing something new in his midst. He asked Joseph to be a part of this new thing, and Joseph did.”
...and finally, the rest of the Matthew text:
When the Magi had gone, a messenger from God came to Joseph in a dream. "Get up, take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child in order to kill him." So Joseph got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod."
Here, Joseph is told to make a hurried retreat into Egypt, and wait for the angel to come *again*, when it would be safe for him to go home. He literally gave up everything he was, everything he had, his home, his work, his reputation - *everything* - in order to do this incredible thing. He set out on a journey in a harsh land, where he could easily have been attacked by bandits. Desert nights are never warm. He had to take food for himself and Mary *and* the donkey. He knew where Bethlehem was, but then along comes God and says now go to Egypt. ...and do what? No idea, but he gets up and goes.
Here is the whole poem by Ann Weems:
Who put Joseph in the back of the stable?
Who dressed him in brown,
put a staff in his hand,
and told him to stand
in the back of the creche,
background for the magnificent light
of the Madonna?
God-chosen, this man Joseph was faithful
in spite of the gossip in Nazareth,
in spite of the danger from Herod.
This man, Joseph, listened to angels
and it was he who named the Child
Emmanuel.
Is this a man to be stuck for centuries
in the back of the stable?
Actually, Joseph probably stood in the doorway
guarding the mother and child
or greeting shepherds and kings.
When he wasn’t in the doorway,
he was probably urging Mary
to get some rest,
gently covering her with his cloak,
assuring her that he would watch the Child.
Actually, he probably picked the Child up in his arms
and walked him in the night,
patting him lovingly
until he closed his eyes.
This Christmas, let us give thanks to God
for this man of incredible faith
into whose care God placed
The Christ Child.
As a gesture of gratitude,
let’s put Joseph in the front of the stable
where he can guard and greet
and cast an occasional glance
at this Child who brought us life.
Sources:
1. Walter Murray, Applewood United Church, Mississauga, from the 2001 Gathering Worship Resources.
2. Rev. Joseph Harvard, First Presbyterian Church, Durham, North Carolina: from the December 23, 2007 sermon “Getting to the Front of the Stable.”
3. Ann Weems, ‘Getting to the Front of the Stable.’ in “Kneeling in Bethlehem”. Westminster John Knox Press, July 1996. Pp. 52-53.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Singing of Joy December 14, 2008
Singing of Joy A sermon based upon Luke 1:47-55
Movie clip - The Nativity Story
A couple of Christmases ago when this text came up, I told you the story of a friend of mine from Iran, who at 14 was married to her high school English teacher, a man twice her age. He and her parents came to an agreement, and she simply had to do it. So she was married at 14 and had her first child at 15. Shortly after her daughter was born her husband decided to go to school in the US, to get a PhD, and she had to go with him. She was terrified, she said - having to leave her village and go to a new country with a baby, not speaking English, not knowing anything about the culture or the world around her.
This is a very old practice, predating even the story of the nativity. Mary was betrothed to Joseph in an agreement made between him and her parents. What was her response? While I think the rest of the movie gets a little sappy from time to time, Mary’s reaction to being married off is less than enthusiastic. She is sullen, somewhat argumentative, and clearly doesn’t want to get married. Then, God intervenes and she becomes pregnant. She goes to be with her cousin, to spend some time thinking.
When Mary returns from visiting Elizabeth, and it is clear she is pregnant, her parents are angry, Joseph considers cancelling the agreement, and in fact she could be stoned. Of course she was terrified.
But somewhere in all this turmoil, there is a part of her which refuses to be put down or put aside. She is going to wear her pregnancy and wear it openly. She reaches a point where she believes that she is meant to have this child, for whatever reason - so knowing that she could be disowned by her family, cut off by Joseph, and even stoned for committing adultery, she still somehow finds faith to be open to the unprecedented event, and trust that God knows what will happen.
Perhaps she recognised that regardless of how it happened, the child is not at fault in any way. Perhaps her acceptance was a way of stating again the sanctity of all life. While the commandments said “No killing”, stoning was allowable for adultery, sending a woman away to live as a prostitute or beggar was considered appropriate. Culturally, women had little status. The religious “laws” which supported the cultural ethos were man-made, not God-given. Somewhere she gets the strength to trust God, and hold to her determination to have the baby. She moves from a sullen girl in a snit, to a strong woman of faith.
Into the text comes a song - lifted from the Hebrew Scriptures, the song of Hannah - not quite word for word, but close enough - words inserted 75 years later when the text was being written. We know Luke wrote this text, and he states right up front he is writing down what he has been told by someone else. So he doesn’t know whether or not Mary was happy - it’s a story, handed down by word of mouth and embellished along the way.
We can look at this on two levels: first, Mary herself and the cultural conditions she lived in. The text is a story of turning the recognised way of things upside down. God has given a gift - and not to the wealthy people one would expect a king to be born to, but to a young peasant girl in a backwater village in a tiny country under occupation. Her family are labourers - not quite untouchables, but close enough. People who make their living by manual labour are the bottom of the social and economic heap. So the one who is to free Israel from its oppression is being born to a nobody, nowhere. And Mary recognises that to God, that’s exactly the idea - to turn everyone’s preconceived notions upside down, and do something no one expects. In this turnabout, the rich are sent home with nothing, while the poor are fed; the proud are scattered, the mighty are taken down from their thrones. - and the most stunning part of all, God comes to a simple young girl who is to be married off by her parents against her will.
In the movie, Mary and Joseph encounter one of the old shepherds, on a cold night on their way to Bethlehem. The shepherd tells Mary “My father once told me God gives each one of us gift. Your gift is what you carry inside you.”
The great Reformers in the church didn’t give a lot of attention to Mary, and given that God’s grace was central to their faith, Mary probably should have had more attention. She illustrated that every one of us is a passive and virgin recipient of God’s calling. Christianity is a religion of what God has done for us and to us. Mary herself speaks of God gracing a “humble servant”.
But the idea is not that we remain passive recipients. While Mary received the gift, she then took an active role. God graces us so that we will be active and creative, but at the root of everything is God’s initiative and grace. Everything that is comes from God; every hope for the redemption of all things comes from God. If we think in these terms, how can we fail to realise that we are all Mary, made pregnant with the gifts of God’s grace.
In our lives, we tend to think that we are in control, we are in charge - or that we should be in control and in charge - and when things don’t go in our preconceived way, we panic. We use same approach for our politics, for our finances, for the running of our church, for everything. We have built up elaborate props around ourselves and our systems which we rely on. We pay lip service to God’s grace, but when it comes to the bottom line we think we are the ones who make everything work. We don’t want to do what God calls us into.
And so I hold up Mary, the humble servant - a young woman at the bottom of the social scale, selected by God to receive a great gift. Each of us at Glen Ayr is also to be a humble servant, and we have each been selected by God. We are individually, and collectively, the humble, barefoot recipients of a grace and a call that are the foundation of all we can ever hope to accomplish. Maybe God needs us to continue to sing the song of creation, which came down through the ages, through Mary, and more like her. Maybe raising our voices in joy for the grace of God giving us each a unique gift is our purpose. May it be so.
Movie clip - The Nativity Story
A couple of Christmases ago when this text came up, I told you the story of a friend of mine from Iran, who at 14 was married to her high school English teacher, a man twice her age. He and her parents came to an agreement, and she simply had to do it. So she was married at 14 and had her first child at 15. Shortly after her daughter was born her husband decided to go to school in the US, to get a PhD, and she had to go with him. She was terrified, she said - having to leave her village and go to a new country with a baby, not speaking English, not knowing anything about the culture or the world around her.
This is a very old practice, predating even the story of the nativity. Mary was betrothed to Joseph in an agreement made between him and her parents. What was her response? While I think the rest of the movie gets a little sappy from time to time, Mary’s reaction to being married off is less than enthusiastic. She is sullen, somewhat argumentative, and clearly doesn’t want to get married. Then, God intervenes and she becomes pregnant. She goes to be with her cousin, to spend some time thinking.
When Mary returns from visiting Elizabeth, and it is clear she is pregnant, her parents are angry, Joseph considers cancelling the agreement, and in fact she could be stoned. Of course she was terrified.
But somewhere in all this turmoil, there is a part of her which refuses to be put down or put aside. She is going to wear her pregnancy and wear it openly. She reaches a point where she believes that she is meant to have this child, for whatever reason - so knowing that she could be disowned by her family, cut off by Joseph, and even stoned for committing adultery, she still somehow finds faith to be open to the unprecedented event, and trust that God knows what will happen.
Perhaps she recognised that regardless of how it happened, the child is not at fault in any way. Perhaps her acceptance was a way of stating again the sanctity of all life. While the commandments said “No killing”, stoning was allowable for adultery, sending a woman away to live as a prostitute or beggar was considered appropriate. Culturally, women had little status. The religious “laws” which supported the cultural ethos were man-made, not God-given. Somewhere she gets the strength to trust God, and hold to her determination to have the baby. She moves from a sullen girl in a snit, to a strong woman of faith.
Into the text comes a song - lifted from the Hebrew Scriptures, the song of Hannah - not quite word for word, but close enough - words inserted 75 years later when the text was being written. We know Luke wrote this text, and he states right up front he is writing down what he has been told by someone else. So he doesn’t know whether or not Mary was happy - it’s a story, handed down by word of mouth and embellished along the way.
We can look at this on two levels: first, Mary herself and the cultural conditions she lived in. The text is a story of turning the recognised way of things upside down. God has given a gift - and not to the wealthy people one would expect a king to be born to, but to a young peasant girl in a backwater village in a tiny country under occupation. Her family are labourers - not quite untouchables, but close enough. People who make their living by manual labour are the bottom of the social and economic heap. So the one who is to free Israel from its oppression is being born to a nobody, nowhere. And Mary recognises that to God, that’s exactly the idea - to turn everyone’s preconceived notions upside down, and do something no one expects. In this turnabout, the rich are sent home with nothing, while the poor are fed; the proud are scattered, the mighty are taken down from their thrones. - and the most stunning part of all, God comes to a simple young girl who is to be married off by her parents against her will.
In the movie, Mary and Joseph encounter one of the old shepherds, on a cold night on their way to Bethlehem. The shepherd tells Mary “My father once told me God gives each one of us gift. Your gift is what you carry inside you.”
The great Reformers in the church didn’t give a lot of attention to Mary, and given that God’s grace was central to their faith, Mary probably should have had more attention. She illustrated that every one of us is a passive and virgin recipient of God’s calling. Christianity is a religion of what God has done for us and to us. Mary herself speaks of God gracing a “humble servant”.
But the idea is not that we remain passive recipients. While Mary received the gift, she then took an active role. God graces us so that we will be active and creative, but at the root of everything is God’s initiative and grace. Everything that is comes from God; every hope for the redemption of all things comes from God. If we think in these terms, how can we fail to realise that we are all Mary, made pregnant with the gifts of God’s grace.
In our lives, we tend to think that we are in control, we are in charge - or that we should be in control and in charge - and when things don’t go in our preconceived way, we panic. We use same approach for our politics, for our finances, for the running of our church, for everything. We have built up elaborate props around ourselves and our systems which we rely on. We pay lip service to God’s grace, but when it comes to the bottom line we think we are the ones who make everything work. We don’t want to do what God calls us into.
And so I hold up Mary, the humble servant - a young woman at the bottom of the social scale, selected by God to receive a great gift. Each of us at Glen Ayr is also to be a humble servant, and we have each been selected by God. We are individually, and collectively, the humble, barefoot recipients of a grace and a call that are the foundation of all we can ever hope to accomplish. Maybe God needs us to continue to sing the song of creation, which came down through the ages, through Mary, and more like her. Maybe raising our voices in joy for the grace of God giving us each a unique gift is our purpose. May it be so.
The Second Agreement: Dont Take Anything Personally Dec. 7, 2008
Earlier this week, a clergy friend related a story about a dinner at her congregation. She was away on a youth retreat, and received a call in the middle that one of the long-time members of the congregation had called a newer member, who happened to be gay, a faggot. Not only was it not in private, it was in front of the whole of the gathered community at dinner. The person who was so attacked has left the congregation after five years there. The person who made the comment has been taken to task by the rest of the congregational community, yet remains unrepentant, and claims entitlement due to long-term membership. The congregation is still reeling that their ideal of Christian community has been so damaged. Interestingly, even the other anti-gay people in the congregation have demanded that such discriminatory and poisonous behaviour not be allowed to continue.
Pretty hard not to take that personally, in fact, extremely hard. But the comment tells us a lot more about the person who made the comment, and about that person’s own issues. The damage to the congregation will take far longer to be repaired, and some will begin to wonder if they have been at fault.
One person’s poison affects an entire community. It is up to the community, of course, as to whether they will let the poison kill them or not.
A few years ago, as President of Conference, I chaired the committee which made decisions about the status of two clergy colleagues, both who happened to be people I also considered friends. They were removed from ministry, and placed on a disciplinary discontinued service list. These were agonising and painful decisions to make, and there were tears around the table as we made those decisions. I remember wondering how it was that people I had respected could get to such a point. But listening to the stories, I began to understand. They took themselves too seriously; they were not able to step back; they had lost the ability to recognise what were other people’s issues - and when there was criticism, they took it as personal attacks, and became defensive.
Well, somewhat extreme examples. What about at a level closer to home? My third child, when he moved here to Toronto, found that because his birthday fell mid-December, he was moved into Grade 4 from Grade 3 in the US. He railed and ranted - he shouldn’t be in Grade 4, he couldn’t do it, he was too young. For the rest of his life - even today - he will tell you that he has always been behind in life because he was forced to go into Grade 4, and his parents did the wrong thing. It has become one of the stories he tells himself about himself, and he took it so personally that it shaped how he sees himself still. Nothing positive that we say to him will change that.
At an even simpler level, what if a parent says to a child often enough “You are so stupid!” Or “You always have to cause trouble, don’t you?”, or “You were behind the door when the brains were handed out.” Eventually that is going to become the fabric of the stories this child believes, and all the child’s life will be played out in that context. They will take that with them as they become adults. The statements probably come out of our own fears about life, but we have laid them on our children who then internalise them. Because we are not impeccable in our words, with ourselves and with them, they learn to buy into it as well.
So, in terms of life in a congregational community, whose reason for being is to carry out God’s mission in the world, how does this play out? In any congregation, there are three major groups. There are those who take major leadership positions, and they are about five percent; there is a large group which comes mostly on Sundays for worship; and there is another small group of people who are minimally active. We all tend to think that what we see or hear on Sunday morning is who people really are. We tend to think we all see things the same way, like our worship the same way, have the same opinions. We tend to think we know each other well, because we come together maybe once or twice a week. Yet the reality is, every single one of us has a different opinion and a different point of view. We all come from different perspectives; the biggest problem is we come assuming that the church community is required to accept us regardless of what we do or say, and required to make us all happy.
Miguel Ruiz talks about the voices we hear in our minds - the many voices all saying many different things, and how we try to listen to them all and juggle them all. I have always found it interesting that we can hear all kinds of good things about ourselves, but as soon as there is one negative comment, we begin to obsess and feed on it - and the comment can not only paralyse us, it can shape us. Instead of looking realistically into ourselves and learning to discern what is really critical for each of us, we get hooked into what others say about us, or tell us about ourselves.
Now this isn’t an “I’m OK, you’re OK” kind of thing. It says clearly that all of us have issues, that we aren’t all OK. We have to honestly, and sometimes with pain, address our own issues; others have to do the same. But we don’t have to take on the issues of others as our own, and recognising that helps us to be free from some of the poison.
Jesus knew that the criticisms came from people who were made uncomfortable by him. We see Jesus, in the biblical stories, going into the desert for discernment; we see him going off alone to meditate; we see him being questioned and tested by the religious leaders; we see him being attacked by political leaders. Jesus learned to do good discernment in prayer and meditation, and was able to go all the way to the cross, without taking it personally.
Ruiz says that this agreement and the first, are the two most important - and that makes sense. First, if we are impeccable with our words, hurtful situations will be avoided. Second, even if others aren’t impeccable with their words, we are able to step back and recognise that what is going on is about them, not about us.
In the movie “Hook”, in which Robin Williams plays Peter Pan grown up, Peter has stopped believing, become an adult, married Wendy’s granddaughter and had children. He has listened to the voices of the world for so long that he has actually forgotten who he is. The Lost Boys don’t really believe he’s Peter Pan; he doesn’t believe it either. There is a wonderful scene where one of the Lost Boys takes Peter’s face between his hands and looks into his eyes - touches his face, looks him over, and then looks deep into his eyes again, and exclaims “You ARE in there, aren’t you! You are Peter Pan!”
Jesus talks about the “least of these”, and seeing him in the least. In other places he talks about loving ourselves. The question is, do we see Jesus in ourselves too? I think Miguel Ruiz is addressing that as well. We have listened to the voices that hold us back, drag us down, distract us from who we are.
When you go home today, go look in the mirror. Look deep into your own eyes. See the Jesus there. When you come together with the congregation again, look into their eyes. And I mean, really look. You ARE in there! Thanks be to God.
Areas of agreement we make:
Personal agreements: Our bodies and ourselves
Social agreements: Family and friends
Spiritual agreements: Life and God
Financial agreements: Work and career
What areas of your life present a challenge at the moment?
What is your reaction to those challenges?
Are you aware of what gives you the greatest joy?
What inspires you, makes your spirit soar?
Do you see Jesus in yourself when you look closely?
Pretty hard not to take that personally, in fact, extremely hard. But the comment tells us a lot more about the person who made the comment, and about that person’s own issues. The damage to the congregation will take far longer to be repaired, and some will begin to wonder if they have been at fault.
One person’s poison affects an entire community. It is up to the community, of course, as to whether they will let the poison kill them or not.
A few years ago, as President of Conference, I chaired the committee which made decisions about the status of two clergy colleagues, both who happened to be people I also considered friends. They were removed from ministry, and placed on a disciplinary discontinued service list. These were agonising and painful decisions to make, and there were tears around the table as we made those decisions. I remember wondering how it was that people I had respected could get to such a point. But listening to the stories, I began to understand. They took themselves too seriously; they were not able to step back; they had lost the ability to recognise what were other people’s issues - and when there was criticism, they took it as personal attacks, and became defensive.
Well, somewhat extreme examples. What about at a level closer to home? My third child, when he moved here to Toronto, found that because his birthday fell mid-December, he was moved into Grade 4 from Grade 3 in the US. He railed and ranted - he shouldn’t be in Grade 4, he couldn’t do it, he was too young. For the rest of his life - even today - he will tell you that he has always been behind in life because he was forced to go into Grade 4, and his parents did the wrong thing. It has become one of the stories he tells himself about himself, and he took it so personally that it shaped how he sees himself still. Nothing positive that we say to him will change that.
At an even simpler level, what if a parent says to a child often enough “You are so stupid!” Or “You always have to cause trouble, don’t you?”, or “You were behind the door when the brains were handed out.” Eventually that is going to become the fabric of the stories this child believes, and all the child’s life will be played out in that context. They will take that with them as they become adults. The statements probably come out of our own fears about life, but we have laid them on our children who then internalise them. Because we are not impeccable in our words, with ourselves and with them, they learn to buy into it as well.
So, in terms of life in a congregational community, whose reason for being is to carry out God’s mission in the world, how does this play out? In any congregation, there are three major groups. There are those who take major leadership positions, and they are about five percent; there is a large group which comes mostly on Sundays for worship; and there is another small group of people who are minimally active. We all tend to think that what we see or hear on Sunday morning is who people really are. We tend to think we all see things the same way, like our worship the same way, have the same opinions. We tend to think we know each other well, because we come together maybe once or twice a week. Yet the reality is, every single one of us has a different opinion and a different point of view. We all come from different perspectives; the biggest problem is we come assuming that the church community is required to accept us regardless of what we do or say, and required to make us all happy.
Miguel Ruiz talks about the voices we hear in our minds - the many voices all saying many different things, and how we try to listen to them all and juggle them all. I have always found it interesting that we can hear all kinds of good things about ourselves, but as soon as there is one negative comment, we begin to obsess and feed on it - and the comment can not only paralyse us, it can shape us. Instead of looking realistically into ourselves and learning to discern what is really critical for each of us, we get hooked into what others say about us, or tell us about ourselves.
Now this isn’t an “I’m OK, you’re OK” kind of thing. It says clearly that all of us have issues, that we aren’t all OK. We have to honestly, and sometimes with pain, address our own issues; others have to do the same. But we don’t have to take on the issues of others as our own, and recognising that helps us to be free from some of the poison.
Jesus knew that the criticisms came from people who were made uncomfortable by him. We see Jesus, in the biblical stories, going into the desert for discernment; we see him going off alone to meditate; we see him being questioned and tested by the religious leaders; we see him being attacked by political leaders. Jesus learned to do good discernment in prayer and meditation, and was able to go all the way to the cross, without taking it personally.
Ruiz says that this agreement and the first, are the two most important - and that makes sense. First, if we are impeccable with our words, hurtful situations will be avoided. Second, even if others aren’t impeccable with their words, we are able to step back and recognise that what is going on is about them, not about us.
In the movie “Hook”, in which Robin Williams plays Peter Pan grown up, Peter has stopped believing, become an adult, married Wendy’s granddaughter and had children. He has listened to the voices of the world for so long that he has actually forgotten who he is. The Lost Boys don’t really believe he’s Peter Pan; he doesn’t believe it either. There is a wonderful scene where one of the Lost Boys takes Peter’s face between his hands and looks into his eyes - touches his face, looks him over, and then looks deep into his eyes again, and exclaims “You ARE in there, aren’t you! You are Peter Pan!”
Jesus talks about the “least of these”, and seeing him in the least. In other places he talks about loving ourselves. The question is, do we see Jesus in ourselves too? I think Miguel Ruiz is addressing that as well. We have listened to the voices that hold us back, drag us down, distract us from who we are.
When you go home today, go look in the mirror. Look deep into your own eyes. See the Jesus there. When you come together with the congregation again, look into their eyes. And I mean, really look. You ARE in there! Thanks be to God.
Areas of agreement we make:
Personal agreements: Our bodies and ourselves
Social agreements: Family and friends
Spiritual agreements: Life and God
Financial agreements: Work and career
What areas of your life present a challenge at the moment?
What is your reaction to those challenges?
Are you aware of what gives you the greatest joy?
What inspires you, makes your spirit soar?
Do you see Jesus in yourself when you look closely?
Tables, Fonts, Pulpits November 30, 2008
Who owns a congregation? Members of a Board will likely answer that they represent the members of a congregation, or that they have a role as ministers alongside the pastor, or that they are responsible for the building and funds of the congregation. All of those, of course, are true to some extent, but not the most important answer.
Members of a congregation are not owners in the same way stockholders own corporations. So who owns a congregation? Jesus? God? Perhaps. But I put to you that the owner of a congregation is its purpose.
So what is the purpose of a congregation? It seems to me the purpose of a congregation is ‘changed lives’. Whose lives do we wish to change, and in what way? In order to change other lives do we also need to change ourselves? Management consultant Peter Drucker says that a congregation which limits its purpose to pleasing all the members falls well short of its true purpose. He says the job of congregational leaders is NOT to give the members what they want - because that says that the mission of the congregation is only to current members. The role of the congregational leaders is to teach people to want the things they don’t want - and the problem with that, he says, is that future members generally don’t vote - and if they did they would make up the majority. That means that not only are we seeking to transform the lives of people around us, but we are seeking to transform our own lives as well.
The role of the leaders is to discern what it believes the congregation needs (not what it wants, necessarily) and try to put that into practice. What is the role of the clergy? If you go by my job description, 60% of it is worship and preaching preparation. Why that? Because worship is the place we come together as a discipling community, and preaching is to educate, encourage, comfort, and provoke. The role of clergy is two-fold: to empower the leadership and the members of the congregation to discern, engage in, and live out, the purpose of the church; and to preach strategically in such a way that the congregation learns and continues to grow on its journey to another place. The problem is, that sometimes transformation feels like chaos, since we don’t really know where God is leading us till we get there - and like children we continually are asking “are we there yet?”, or even more “I don’t wanna go ” Remember that some of the Israelites got fed up with Moses and his purported vision, and wanted to go back to where they were comfortable.
So when we start talking about the purpose of a faith community - to change lives - we also have to talk about the message we give in our space. If you are a new person, and come to a church where the doors are closed or you can’t find the entrance, everyone sits in the same place all the time, the table and the minister are elevated *above* the people, and sit on thronelike chairs, the choir and musician are shunted off to one side, and the font is shunted off to the other where we forget it most of the time - what message are we giving about ourselves and our role.
Ken Gallinger, minister at Lawrence Park Community Church, talks about their reassessment of the building in relation to their perceived purpose. While the front of the church faces a main street, the main entrance is down a side alley. They realised that in itself sent a message about who was welcome and who wasn't. In rebuilding, they decided to put the front door on the front, making it mostly glass, open to everyone, with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, coffee available all the time - in short, a place which said "You are welcome here, make yourself at home."
I am going to take you - yet again - on a little trip through church history - because every single thing done inside and outside our churches has come from a particular cultural and theological understanding of the church.
God’s command to Moses was to build an altar of stone or earth, untouched by human handiwork. It was to be called an altar because it was used for the sacrifices and burning of animals. BUT the altar which Moses is commanded to build is NOT to be approached by steps, but is to be of the earth and from the earth, and accessible by all the people.
In Exodus, precise instructions are given for what is now the table - it is to be of acacia wood, square in shape - and God commands that is it to be a symbol of God’s presence among the people. Why square? So that there is no front or back - and still accessible by all.
Instead of being a static holy place where people go, the sanctuary is moveable - it goes with the people, and is housed (when they stop) in a tent. God clearly goes *with* the people. No building, even. The instructions for both the Ark to house the tablets, and the construction of the tent, were given so that it was clear to the gathered community, that God was *among* the people.
Exodus demonstrates that the idea of “holy place” takes on a whole new dynamic in the concept of God travelling with the people to meet them wherever they come to rest - and crucial to this understanding is the experience of journey.
Well, from table to temple. 1200 years prior to the birth of Jesus, Israel had got tired of being pushed around by other nations, and the antics of the sons of Samuel as the judges, with their hands in the till. The solution was a monarchy, they thought - and against Samuel’s better advice away they went. Three kings - Saul, David and Solomon - who decided to enshrine the Ark in a permanent place, and finalise a union of church and state. Neither the prophet Nathan, nor the strong indignation of God, were enough to deter the kings. In the end Solomon built the temple, and it became the ONLY place where sacrifice could take place, and therefore had to be a place of pilgrimage. Furthermore, because of the number of holy spaces from the door to the Ark, a rigid hierarchical system was set up in which the people could no longer approach God.
The new followers of Jesus - people of the Way, as they called themselves - returned to the understanding of God being among the people, - and for almost four hundred years the new groups functioned as house churches, meals around a common table, and all were ministers - with their supervisor Paul stopping by once a year or so. The first Christians borrowed as much as possible, and travelled light. The home had been the place of blessing and prayer for the Jews, and it is significant that Jesus used those very familiar home experiences into a prophetic act with common bread and wine.
Then along came Constantine, an unbaptised non-Christian emperor, who made Christianity the state religion. - and for the model of the church building chose neither temple NOR synagogue, but the basilica, or hall of the king. However, even in this space, the table was set in a central location where the people could surround it - and was square. Something new was added, however - a particular liturgical space for other functions. So the pulpit stood in the exact middle of the assembly, and the font was in a separate baptistry. Little by little steps and a chancel appeared, the priestly functions were taken from the people and appropriated by an exclusive group; the people’s participation came and went, buildings became more and more decorative - and so too did the priestly robes. Worship was conducted in a language which was increasingly more and more archaic.
Well, let’s jump to recent years. The church, as a whole, has begun looking at our response to what we hear both God and the world saying. It is known as the Liturgical Movement, and has in fact led to quite extraordinary renewal of worship and witness in the church on a scale not seen since the Reformation. The movement began in Belgium in the 1900's, and has continued to grow - culminating in ground-breaking agreements in 1988 among all denominations in the World Council of Churches. The liturgical movement says we must regularly reassess our purpose as churches, as well as our liturgies, and our buildings. It says we have to address God in language and forms appropriate to our current times, to do justice to new theological insights and God’s daily revelation.
The process of reordering helps us to discover who we are as a community of faith, and where we came from. The thing that will make our house of the church special, different and fun, will be the story it tells: first, the story common to all Christians, the life and work of Jesus and the journey with God; second, the story of this particular group of people and its pilgrimage in faith. So, alongside preaching and education, the internal arrangement of our building has to be used as a teaching aid.
Richard Giles, in this lovely book, points out that the reordering of any space has to focus on how the whole assembly can give full expression to its life in the risen Jesus - because that is, in fact, the reason we are here. In the gathered assembly, in the United Church, the table and the font are central to our life. He points out that the table should stand on the floor, in the middle of the worshipping space - a level approach to the table. The font should be in another room altogether - a room designed for that purpose - so that it does not become simply another piece of furniture shunted to one side when not needed. The breaking open of the Word is intended to be at a reading desk, in the middle of the assembly, and facing east. It should be neither a platform, nor an enclosed space. Choirs, he says, should be clearly a part of the worshipping community and not set apart in any way.
Whether or not we realise it, everything we do has both a theological reason, and makes a theological statement. As we in this community try to discern purpose, we need also to engage in review, reevaluation, and reordering.
Members of a congregation are not owners in the same way stockholders own corporations. So who owns a congregation? Jesus? God? Perhaps. But I put to you that the owner of a congregation is its purpose.
So what is the purpose of a congregation? It seems to me the purpose of a congregation is ‘changed lives’. Whose lives do we wish to change, and in what way? In order to change other lives do we also need to change ourselves? Management consultant Peter Drucker says that a congregation which limits its purpose to pleasing all the members falls well short of its true purpose. He says the job of congregational leaders is NOT to give the members what they want - because that says that the mission of the congregation is only to current members. The role of the congregational leaders is to teach people to want the things they don’t want - and the problem with that, he says, is that future members generally don’t vote - and if they did they would make up the majority. That means that not only are we seeking to transform the lives of people around us, but we are seeking to transform our own lives as well.
The role of the leaders is to discern what it believes the congregation needs (not what it wants, necessarily) and try to put that into practice. What is the role of the clergy? If you go by my job description, 60% of it is worship and preaching preparation. Why that? Because worship is the place we come together as a discipling community, and preaching is to educate, encourage, comfort, and provoke. The role of clergy is two-fold: to empower the leadership and the members of the congregation to discern, engage in, and live out, the purpose of the church; and to preach strategically in such a way that the congregation learns and continues to grow on its journey to another place. The problem is, that sometimes transformation feels like chaos, since we don’t really know where God is leading us till we get there - and like children we continually are asking “are we there yet?”, or even more “I don’t wanna go ” Remember that some of the Israelites got fed up with Moses and his purported vision, and wanted to go back to where they were comfortable.
So when we start talking about the purpose of a faith community - to change lives - we also have to talk about the message we give in our space. If you are a new person, and come to a church where the doors are closed or you can’t find the entrance, everyone sits in the same place all the time, the table and the minister are elevated *above* the people, and sit on thronelike chairs, the choir and musician are shunted off to one side, and the font is shunted off to the other where we forget it most of the time - what message are we giving about ourselves and our role.
Ken Gallinger, minister at Lawrence Park Community Church, talks about their reassessment of the building in relation to their perceived purpose. While the front of the church faces a main street, the main entrance is down a side alley. They realised that in itself sent a message about who was welcome and who wasn't. In rebuilding, they decided to put the front door on the front, making it mostly glass, open to everyone, with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, coffee available all the time - in short, a place which said "You are welcome here, make yourself at home."
I am going to take you - yet again - on a little trip through church history - because every single thing done inside and outside our churches has come from a particular cultural and theological understanding of the church.
God’s command to Moses was to build an altar of stone or earth, untouched by human handiwork. It was to be called an altar because it was used for the sacrifices and burning of animals. BUT the altar which Moses is commanded to build is NOT to be approached by steps, but is to be of the earth and from the earth, and accessible by all the people.
In Exodus, precise instructions are given for what is now the table - it is to be of acacia wood, square in shape - and God commands that is it to be a symbol of God’s presence among the people. Why square? So that there is no front or back - and still accessible by all.
Instead of being a static holy place where people go, the sanctuary is moveable - it goes with the people, and is housed (when they stop) in a tent. God clearly goes *with* the people. No building, even. The instructions for both the Ark to house the tablets, and the construction of the tent, were given so that it was clear to the gathered community, that God was *among* the people.
Exodus demonstrates that the idea of “holy place” takes on a whole new dynamic in the concept of God travelling with the people to meet them wherever they come to rest - and crucial to this understanding is the experience of journey.
Well, from table to temple. 1200 years prior to the birth of Jesus, Israel had got tired of being pushed around by other nations, and the antics of the sons of Samuel as the judges, with their hands in the till. The solution was a monarchy, they thought - and against Samuel’s better advice away they went. Three kings - Saul, David and Solomon - who decided to enshrine the Ark in a permanent place, and finalise a union of church and state. Neither the prophet Nathan, nor the strong indignation of God, were enough to deter the kings. In the end Solomon built the temple, and it became the ONLY place where sacrifice could take place, and therefore had to be a place of pilgrimage. Furthermore, because of the number of holy spaces from the door to the Ark, a rigid hierarchical system was set up in which the people could no longer approach God.
The new followers of Jesus - people of the Way, as they called themselves - returned to the understanding of God being among the people, - and for almost four hundred years the new groups functioned as house churches, meals around a common table, and all were ministers - with their supervisor Paul stopping by once a year or so. The first Christians borrowed as much as possible, and travelled light. The home had been the place of blessing and prayer for the Jews, and it is significant that Jesus used those very familiar home experiences into a prophetic act with common bread and wine.
Then along came Constantine, an unbaptised non-Christian emperor, who made Christianity the state religion. - and for the model of the church building chose neither temple NOR synagogue, but the basilica, or hall of the king. However, even in this space, the table was set in a central location where the people could surround it - and was square. Something new was added, however - a particular liturgical space for other functions. So the pulpit stood in the exact middle of the assembly, and the font was in a separate baptistry. Little by little steps and a chancel appeared, the priestly functions were taken from the people and appropriated by an exclusive group; the people’s participation came and went, buildings became more and more decorative - and so too did the priestly robes. Worship was conducted in a language which was increasingly more and more archaic.
Well, let’s jump to recent years. The church, as a whole, has begun looking at our response to what we hear both God and the world saying. It is known as the Liturgical Movement, and has in fact led to quite extraordinary renewal of worship and witness in the church on a scale not seen since the Reformation. The movement began in Belgium in the 1900's, and has continued to grow - culminating in ground-breaking agreements in 1988 among all denominations in the World Council of Churches. The liturgical movement says we must regularly reassess our purpose as churches, as well as our liturgies, and our buildings. It says we have to address God in language and forms appropriate to our current times, to do justice to new theological insights and God’s daily revelation.
The process of reordering helps us to discover who we are as a community of faith, and where we came from. The thing that will make our house of the church special, different and fun, will be the story it tells: first, the story common to all Christians, the life and work of Jesus and the journey with God; second, the story of this particular group of people and its pilgrimage in faith. So, alongside preaching and education, the internal arrangement of our building has to be used as a teaching aid.
Richard Giles, in this lovely book, points out that the reordering of any space has to focus on how the whole assembly can give full expression to its life in the risen Jesus - because that is, in fact, the reason we are here. In the gathered assembly, in the United Church, the table and the font are central to our life. He points out that the table should stand on the floor, in the middle of the worshipping space - a level approach to the table. The font should be in another room altogether - a room designed for that purpose - so that it does not become simply another piece of furniture shunted to one side when not needed. The breaking open of the Word is intended to be at a reading desk, in the middle of the assembly, and facing east. It should be neither a platform, nor an enclosed space. Choirs, he says, should be clearly a part of the worshipping community and not set apart in any way.
Whether or not we realise it, everything we do has both a theological reason, and makes a theological statement. As we in this community try to discern purpose, we need also to engage in review, reevaluation, and reordering.
The First Agreement November 23, 2008
“Be Impeccable with Your Word”
1. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning.
Through God all things were made; without God nothing was made.
In God was life, and that life was the light of creation.
The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has never understood it. (John 1)
2. Aboriginal creation
When the earth was new-born, it was plain and without any features or life. Waking time and sleeping time were the same. There were hollows on the surface of the Earth which would become waterholes. Around the waterholes were the ingredients of life.
Underneath the crust of the earth were the stars and sky, the sun and moon, all the forms of life, all sleeping. The tiniest details of life were present yet dormant: the head feathers of a cockatoo, the thump of a kangaroo's tail, the gleam of an insect's wing.
A time came when time itself split apart, and sleeping time separated from waking time. This moment was called the Dreamtime. At this moment everything started to burst into life.
The sun rose through the surface of the Earth and shone warm rays onto the hollows which became waterholes. Under each waterhole lay an Ancestor, an ancient man or woman who had been asleep through the ages. The sun filled the bodies of each Ancestor with light and life, and the Ancestors began to give birth to children. Their children were all the living things of the world, from the tiniest grub wriggling on a eucalyptus leaf to the broad-winged eagle soaring in the blue sky.
Rising from the waterholes, the Ancestors stood up with mud falling from their bodies. As the mud slipped away, the sun opened their eyelids and they saw the creatures they had made from their own bodies. Each Ancestor gazed at his creation in pride and wonderment. Each Ancestor sang out with joy: "I am!". One Ancestor sang "I am kangaroo!" Another sang "I am Cockatoo!" The next sang "I am Honey-Ant!" and the next sang "I am Lizard!"
As they sang, naming their own creations, they began to walk. Their footsteps and their music became one, calling all living things into being and weaving them into life with song. The ancestors sang their way all around the world. They sang the rivers to the valleys and the sand into dunes, the trees into leaf and the mountains to rise above the plain. As they walked they left a trail of music.
Then they were exhausted. They had shown all living things how to live, and they returned into the Earth itself to sleep. And, in honour of their Ancestors, the Aborigines still go Walkabout, retracing the steps and singing the songs that tell the story of life.
Native American
Earthmaker began to think about what should be done; in the end Earthmaker began to cry, tears flowing and falling to where they became bright objects, seas formed from tears.
Earthmaker thought, 'Anything I wish will happen just as I wish it'.
Earthmaker wished for light - it happened. Earthmaker wished for earth; earth was formed.
Speaking for the first time, Earthmaker said 'I shall make a being like myself' , took some earth and made it into a being.
Earthmaker spoke to the creature, but it gave no answer. Earthmaker looked closely, saw it had no mind and made a mind for it. But still it did not answer.
Earthmaker gave it a tongue and spoke to it, but still it did not answer.
Earthmaker saw it had no soul, so made it a soul, and talked to it ... and it very nearly said something, but failed to make itself understood.
So Earthmaker breathed into its mouth and spoke to it ... and it answered.
3. Who are we? Agreements we make in our lifetime, how that comes about. Challenging ourselves to change.
Being in a congregation is more than just showing up on Sunday morning and hearing what we want to hear, feeling at home and comfortable. Being in a congregation, if it is going to be a spiritually nurturing congregation, means we have to be with each other in honesty and respect. Being in a congregation means challenging ourselves to change, to adapt, to be more than we are. But the beginning of that is looking at those little agreements we make with ourselves - our behaviours, fears, concerns, relationships to others around us.
4. In the science fiction stories by Frank Herbert, about a desert planet known as Dune, a young nobleman named Leto Atreides becomes the world’s first super being. Leto learns in the course of his developing power, that he is able to kill with a word. He uses knowledge of word and power to train his followers.
5. Words are a double-edged sword, aren’t they? They can be used to hurt or heal, gossip, speculate, even tear others - or ourselves - down.
Look at example of Jesus - how he used words, to construct - not deconstruct......that doesn’t mean he didn’t call things clearly - but it was never with the intent of putting down or getting revenge, or bending everyone to his will. Jesus only planted seed - and allowed it to grow, or not.
Hebrews 4:12 tells us that “the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
So there are two things in this chapter, I think - how we use our word against ourselves, first of all - because that is where everything starts. How do we take ourselves down, or build ourselves up, with our words against ourselves.
Ruiz says that for years in our lives we receive the gossip from the words of others, but also the way we use words with ourselves. We are constantly in dialogue with ourselves - we are too fat, ugly, getting old, stupid, never going to be good enough - and on and on. We need to understand what the word IS and what the word DOES. Once you begin to be impeccable with your word, you see the changes which can happen.- changes first in the way you deal with yourself, and changes with how you deal with others.
How many times have you gossiped about someone, or made assumptions about someone and circulated rumours - out of your own anxiety and fear? How many times have you hooked other people’s attention and spread poison about someone in order to make your opinion right? But your opinion is nothing more than your point of view, in the midst of many points of view. Your opinion is not necessarily true, because it comes from your assumptions, beliefs, fears, and ego. Yet within the community we create poison against others just so we can justify our opinion.
One of the tasks for Glen Ayr in this coming year is to begin to examine who we are, and what God is calling us to be. Not what we want to be - but engaging in a process of discernment to find out what God wants us to be.
For us to survive on the spiritual path, there are many challenges to face, and there is much to learn. We have to discover how to deal with obstacles and difficulties; how to process doubts and see through wrong views; how to inspire ourselves when we least feel like it; how to understand ourselves and our moods; how really to work with and integrate the teachings and practices; how to evoke compassion and enact it in life; and how to transform our emotions.
On the spiritual path, all of us need the support and the good foundation that come from really knowing the teachings, and this cannot be stressed strongly enough. For the more we study and practice, the more we embody discernment, clarity, and insight.
It seems to me that this is what Jesus was teaching as well.
From this one agreement you can attain the realm of heaven.
Questions:
Did this sermon raise any questions for you?
What do you really mean when you say you love God?
How do you love yourself?
What are the stories you tell yourself, which may hold you back?
How can you change this?
1. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning.
Through God all things were made; without God nothing was made.
In God was life, and that life was the light of creation.
The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has never understood it. (John 1)
2. Aboriginal creation
When the earth was new-born, it was plain and without any features or life. Waking time and sleeping time were the same. There were hollows on the surface of the Earth which would become waterholes. Around the waterholes were the ingredients of life.
Underneath the crust of the earth were the stars and sky, the sun and moon, all the forms of life, all sleeping. The tiniest details of life were present yet dormant: the head feathers of a cockatoo, the thump of a kangaroo's tail, the gleam of an insect's wing.
A time came when time itself split apart, and sleeping time separated from waking time. This moment was called the Dreamtime. At this moment everything started to burst into life.
The sun rose through the surface of the Earth and shone warm rays onto the hollows which became waterholes. Under each waterhole lay an Ancestor, an ancient man or woman who had been asleep through the ages. The sun filled the bodies of each Ancestor with light and life, and the Ancestors began to give birth to children. Their children were all the living things of the world, from the tiniest grub wriggling on a eucalyptus leaf to the broad-winged eagle soaring in the blue sky.
Rising from the waterholes, the Ancestors stood up with mud falling from their bodies. As the mud slipped away, the sun opened their eyelids and they saw the creatures they had made from their own bodies. Each Ancestor gazed at his creation in pride and wonderment. Each Ancestor sang out with joy: "I am!". One Ancestor sang "I am kangaroo!" Another sang "I am Cockatoo!" The next sang "I am Honey-Ant!" and the next sang "I am Lizard!"
As they sang, naming their own creations, they began to walk. Their footsteps and their music became one, calling all living things into being and weaving them into life with song. The ancestors sang their way all around the world. They sang the rivers to the valleys and the sand into dunes, the trees into leaf and the mountains to rise above the plain. As they walked they left a trail of music.
Then they were exhausted. They had shown all living things how to live, and they returned into the Earth itself to sleep. And, in honour of their Ancestors, the Aborigines still go Walkabout, retracing the steps and singing the songs that tell the story of life.
Native American
Earthmaker began to think about what should be done; in the end Earthmaker began to cry, tears flowing and falling to where they became bright objects, seas formed from tears.
Earthmaker thought, 'Anything I wish will happen just as I wish it'.
Earthmaker wished for light - it happened. Earthmaker wished for earth; earth was formed.
Speaking for the first time, Earthmaker said 'I shall make a being like myself' , took some earth and made it into a being.
Earthmaker spoke to the creature, but it gave no answer. Earthmaker looked closely, saw it had no mind and made a mind for it. But still it did not answer.
Earthmaker gave it a tongue and spoke to it, but still it did not answer.
Earthmaker saw it had no soul, so made it a soul, and talked to it ... and it very nearly said something, but failed to make itself understood.
So Earthmaker breathed into its mouth and spoke to it ... and it answered.
3. Who are we? Agreements we make in our lifetime, how that comes about. Challenging ourselves to change.
Being in a congregation is more than just showing up on Sunday morning and hearing what we want to hear, feeling at home and comfortable. Being in a congregation, if it is going to be a spiritually nurturing congregation, means we have to be with each other in honesty and respect. Being in a congregation means challenging ourselves to change, to adapt, to be more than we are. But the beginning of that is looking at those little agreements we make with ourselves - our behaviours, fears, concerns, relationships to others around us.
4. In the science fiction stories by Frank Herbert, about a desert planet known as Dune, a young nobleman named Leto Atreides becomes the world’s first super being. Leto learns in the course of his developing power, that he is able to kill with a word. He uses knowledge of word and power to train his followers.
5. Words are a double-edged sword, aren’t they? They can be used to hurt or heal, gossip, speculate, even tear others - or ourselves - down.
Look at example of Jesus - how he used words, to construct - not deconstruct......that doesn’t mean he didn’t call things clearly - but it was never with the intent of putting down or getting revenge, or bending everyone to his will. Jesus only planted seed - and allowed it to grow, or not.
Hebrews 4:12 tells us that “the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
So there are two things in this chapter, I think - how we use our word against ourselves, first of all - because that is where everything starts. How do we take ourselves down, or build ourselves up, with our words against ourselves.
Ruiz says that for years in our lives we receive the gossip from the words of others, but also the way we use words with ourselves. We are constantly in dialogue with ourselves - we are too fat, ugly, getting old, stupid, never going to be good enough - and on and on. We need to understand what the word IS and what the word DOES. Once you begin to be impeccable with your word, you see the changes which can happen.- changes first in the way you deal with yourself, and changes with how you deal with others.
How many times have you gossiped about someone, or made assumptions about someone and circulated rumours - out of your own anxiety and fear? How many times have you hooked other people’s attention and spread poison about someone in order to make your opinion right? But your opinion is nothing more than your point of view, in the midst of many points of view. Your opinion is not necessarily true, because it comes from your assumptions, beliefs, fears, and ego. Yet within the community we create poison against others just so we can justify our opinion.
One of the tasks for Glen Ayr in this coming year is to begin to examine who we are, and what God is calling us to be. Not what we want to be - but engaging in a process of discernment to find out what God wants us to be.
For us to survive on the spiritual path, there are many challenges to face, and there is much to learn. We have to discover how to deal with obstacles and difficulties; how to process doubts and see through wrong views; how to inspire ourselves when we least feel like it; how to understand ourselves and our moods; how really to work with and integrate the teachings and practices; how to evoke compassion and enact it in life; and how to transform our emotions.
On the spiritual path, all of us need the support and the good foundation that come from really knowing the teachings, and this cannot be stressed strongly enough. For the more we study and practice, the more we embody discernment, clarity, and insight.
It seems to me that this is what Jesus was teaching as well.
From this one agreement you can attain the realm of heaven.
Questions:
Did this sermon raise any questions for you?
What do you really mean when you say you love God?
How do you love yourself?
What are the stories you tell yourself, which may hold you back?
How can you change this?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Power and Glory - February 10, 2008
Sermon preached at Glen Ayr United Church on February 10, 2008 by Fran Ota
Lent 1 Matthew 4:1-11
Funny how things come together sometime. I was sitting at home yesterday, procrastinating about writing my sermon, watching a movie on TV called “Sneakers”, with one of my least favourite actors - Robert Redford - and three of my favourites - Ben Kingsley, Sidney Poitier, and Dan Aykroyd. I was trying to get a handle on the sermon, and really scratching my head, because these same texts come up every year at the beginning of Lent, and I was wondering how I could come up with something new this year.
... Robert Redford, at the end of the movie, standing on top of a high building looking out over a city, and Ben Kingsley holding a gun on him saying “Think of the power we could have, the control we would have over everything...” and Robert Redford saying “I don’t want it.”
... and there it was!
... that took me to a line from one the first Harry Potter story. Right near the end, when Harry faces Lord Voldemort, and is holding the philosopher’s stone in his hand - Voldemort says to him “There is no such thing as good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to use it.”
One of the problems with the story of Jesus today , is that we have tended to make it into something literal. The media, in general, when portraying these things, haven’t helped much. We have got so used to seeing literal visual depictions of a devil with horns, tail and pitchfork, or some evil thing which possesses others by diabolic means, that we can’t put it into terms which make sense for today at all.
The Greek word used in the Gospel text is ‘diabolos’ - and that’s where we get the word ‘diabolic’. But ‘diabolos’ does not translate as ‘devil’, it translates as ‘traducer’. A traducer is one who confuses the other. So the role of the ‘diabolos’ is to confuse, distract, take focus away from - and turn it to something else..
Matthew tells us Jesus was led by the spirit - not the Holy Spirit, I think - but his own spirit, his own humanity. He was wrestling with his own devil, his own Job if you will, and that ‘devil within’ was trying to confuse and distract him.
In the Hebrew scriptures, diabolos is not God's adversary, but an adversary to people; not the embodiment of evil, but the embodiment of crisis when a faithful or unfaithful choice is being provoked. In the book of Job, Satan is one of the company of heaven, an expected being, in conversation with, but subservient to, God. In the story of Job, Satan is also the embodiment of crisis, and the adversary of Job.
Those who hear us preach have so much cultural baggage around "the devil" that comes more from Greek mythology of the underworld, medieval art, and movie demons, that it is hard to separate that and hear what the scripture actually says. The gospel writers did not have the same baggage that 21st century people have; so more likely they would have used the term in the sense their Hebrew ancestors had - the adversary, the confuser.
Much of my thought around this has been the humanity or divinity of Jesus. Some of my colleagues were having trouble thinking of Jesus as being tempted, claiming that it was no contest. They were seeing it only from the point of view of Jesus being divine, hence of course he would overcome evil. So why would the Gospel writer even bother to put the story in, then? For me, the whole story comes apart if it is no contest and Jesus is divine. It literally means nothing unless we think of Jesus as a human being, subject to the same pressures that others would be. I think the whole meaning of this story is the humanity of Jesus - and the purpose of the story is like the parables Jesus told; to provide a vehicle for commentary on our lives and how we deal with them.
Take a look at it again. Jesus goes off on retreat, somewhere far away from others, to fast and meditate. He is feeling a call to ministry and needs to do some discernment about his role. And as he comes to an understanding of ministry, he is faced with making some decisions; he has to wrestle with the power he has, and how to use it. And there is a little voice saying ‘do this with it, and you can have all of that’. He has an experience where he views the world as if from a high place, and comes face to face with his own person. He can either seize power and use it in the wrong way, or refuse it.
When we get into discussions about the humanness/divinity of God, I have to say that I believe that all of God which could be contained in human form was in Jesus; Jesus was the all of God that could be revealed through the medium of "human". Thus Jesus was as divine as a human could be, and as human as the divine can be. But we are also told that humans were made in the image of God, so that means we also have the power to do what Jesus did, and make the choices Jesus did. Jesus could have chosen any response that he wanted. Jesus had to be completely human in order to have any meaning for me the human that I am. Jesus had to be tempted to choose his own pleasure, his own response to power, his own use of power, and his own relationship with God.
I also believe that Jesus grew both in his understanding of God and his own life. This time in the desert certainly was a major part of his growth in his self-concept (maturity) and his relationship with God. Real temptation - real possibilities - real choices - just as real as the temptations I experience. The temptations I experience also help form my growth in my self-concept (maturity) and my relationship with God (and others).
I constantly marvel at how much more powerful the story of Jesus is when we see him in this light. It is so easy to cop out if we relate to Jesus as divine. When we worship Jesus as God the world at best is unchanged and often becomes more divided. When we walk in the footsteps of Jesus as a human who struggled with choices in life as we do, a part of this troubled space is healed.
May it be so.
With thanks to Rev. Susan Leo, Rev. Sharon Jacobsen, Rev. Tom Watson, Rev. Marilyn Leuty for their inspiration and ideas.
Lent 1 Matthew 4:1-11
Funny how things come together sometime. I was sitting at home yesterday, procrastinating about writing my sermon, watching a movie on TV called “Sneakers”, with one of my least favourite actors - Robert Redford - and three of my favourites - Ben Kingsley, Sidney Poitier, and Dan Aykroyd. I was trying to get a handle on the sermon, and really scratching my head, because these same texts come up every year at the beginning of Lent, and I was wondering how I could come up with something new this year.
... Robert Redford, at the end of the movie, standing on top of a high building looking out over a city, and Ben Kingsley holding a gun on him saying “Think of the power we could have, the control we would have over everything...” and Robert Redford saying “I don’t want it.”
... and there it was!
... that took me to a line from one the first Harry Potter story. Right near the end, when Harry faces Lord Voldemort, and is holding the philosopher’s stone in his hand - Voldemort says to him “There is no such thing as good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to use it.”
One of the problems with the story of Jesus today , is that we have tended to make it into something literal. The media, in general, when portraying these things, haven’t helped much. We have got so used to seeing literal visual depictions of a devil with horns, tail and pitchfork, or some evil thing which possesses others by diabolic means, that we can’t put it into terms which make sense for today at all.
The Greek word used in the Gospel text is ‘diabolos’ - and that’s where we get the word ‘diabolic’. But ‘diabolos’ does not translate as ‘devil’, it translates as ‘traducer’. A traducer is one who confuses the other. So the role of the ‘diabolos’ is to confuse, distract, take focus away from - and turn it to something else..
Matthew tells us Jesus was led by the spirit - not the Holy Spirit, I think - but his own spirit, his own humanity. He was wrestling with his own devil, his own Job if you will, and that ‘devil within’ was trying to confuse and distract him.
In the Hebrew scriptures, diabolos is not God's adversary, but an adversary to people; not the embodiment of evil, but the embodiment of crisis when a faithful or unfaithful choice is being provoked. In the book of Job, Satan is one of the company of heaven, an expected being, in conversation with, but subservient to, God. In the story of Job, Satan is also the embodiment of crisis, and the adversary of Job.
Those who hear us preach have so much cultural baggage around "the devil" that comes more from Greek mythology of the underworld, medieval art, and movie demons, that it is hard to separate that and hear what the scripture actually says. The gospel writers did not have the same baggage that 21st century people have; so more likely they would have used the term in the sense their Hebrew ancestors had - the adversary, the confuser.
Much of my thought around this has been the humanity or divinity of Jesus. Some of my colleagues were having trouble thinking of Jesus as being tempted, claiming that it was no contest. They were seeing it only from the point of view of Jesus being divine, hence of course he would overcome evil. So why would the Gospel writer even bother to put the story in, then? For me, the whole story comes apart if it is no contest and Jesus is divine. It literally means nothing unless we think of Jesus as a human being, subject to the same pressures that others would be. I think the whole meaning of this story is the humanity of Jesus - and the purpose of the story is like the parables Jesus told; to provide a vehicle for commentary on our lives and how we deal with them.
Take a look at it again. Jesus goes off on retreat, somewhere far away from others, to fast and meditate. He is feeling a call to ministry and needs to do some discernment about his role. And as he comes to an understanding of ministry, he is faced with making some decisions; he has to wrestle with the power he has, and how to use it. And there is a little voice saying ‘do this with it, and you can have all of that’. He has an experience where he views the world as if from a high place, and comes face to face with his own person. He can either seize power and use it in the wrong way, or refuse it.
When we get into discussions about the humanness/divinity of God, I have to say that I believe that all of God which could be contained in human form was in Jesus; Jesus was the all of God that could be revealed through the medium of "human". Thus Jesus was as divine as a human could be, and as human as the divine can be. But we are also told that humans were made in the image of God, so that means we also have the power to do what Jesus did, and make the choices Jesus did. Jesus could have chosen any response that he wanted. Jesus had to be completely human in order to have any meaning for me the human that I am. Jesus had to be tempted to choose his own pleasure, his own response to power, his own use of power, and his own relationship with God.
I also believe that Jesus grew both in his understanding of God and his own life. This time in the desert certainly was a major part of his growth in his self-concept (maturity) and his relationship with God. Real temptation - real possibilities - real choices - just as real as the temptations I experience. The temptations I experience also help form my growth in my self-concept (maturity) and my relationship with God (and others).
I constantly marvel at how much more powerful the story of Jesus is when we see him in this light. It is so easy to cop out if we relate to Jesus as divine. When we worship Jesus as God the world at best is unchanged and often becomes more divided. When we walk in the footsteps of Jesus as a human who struggled with choices in life as we do, a part of this troubled space is healed.
May it be so.
With thanks to Rev. Susan Leo, Rev. Sharon Jacobsen, Rev. Tom Watson, Rev. Marilyn Leuty for their inspiration and ideas.
March 21, 2008 - Roll Away the Stone
This meditation was given at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Scarborough by Fran Ota.
At the beginning of Lent at Glen Ayr, we started a little meditation with stones. Each person received a small bag, like this, with two stones in it - purple and clear. Each day of Lent, people were encouraged to spend some time at the end of the day reflecting on whether or not they had emulated Jesus, or not. If not, the purple stone went into the little bag and was carried around until the next evening. If they had, the clear stone went into the bag.
Throughout the scriptures, stones play a part. From the rock in Exodus, to the temptation in the desert to make bread out of stones, and on this day, as we remember the crucifixion, a tomb with stone rolled across the entrance. Common burial custom. But what does the stone across the tomb represent? Is it just something which happened to Jesus as a practicing Jew, or is there something deeper here?
A couple of weeks ago, the morning readings gave us the story of Lazarus. The Gospel writer used two words for the death of Lazarus - one was when Jesus said he was asleep, and the other when Jesus said he was dead. ...Jesus called Lazarus to come out, and then said to the others “Unbind him and set him free.” Set him free from what? The things which bound him in life?
So Jesus is bound and wrapped and placed in a tomb - and the stone is rolled over the entrance. Is that a metaphor for faith? Is our faith bound, and wrapped, placed in a tomb and a stone rolled over the entrance to our hearts?
There is a Danish Christmas carol which is the perfect amalgamation of the meaning of Christmas and Easter. It is a minor key, slow but very powerful. The words of one verse go like this:
I am the thorns that crowned you, I am the whips that scourge,
I am the chains that bound you, who all my sins did purge.
I am the cross you shoulder, a cross that crucifies;
against your tomb the boulder. When will my heart arise?
When will our hearts arise? When the stone is rolled away, and faith emerges unbound and free. Then our hearts will arise.
At the beginning of Lent at Glen Ayr, we started a little meditation with stones. Each person received a small bag, like this, with two stones in it - purple and clear. Each day of Lent, people were encouraged to spend some time at the end of the day reflecting on whether or not they had emulated Jesus, or not. If not, the purple stone went into the little bag and was carried around until the next evening. If they had, the clear stone went into the bag.
Throughout the scriptures, stones play a part. From the rock in Exodus, to the temptation in the desert to make bread out of stones, and on this day, as we remember the crucifixion, a tomb with stone rolled across the entrance. Common burial custom. But what does the stone across the tomb represent? Is it just something which happened to Jesus as a practicing Jew, or is there something deeper here?
A couple of weeks ago, the morning readings gave us the story of Lazarus. The Gospel writer used two words for the death of Lazarus - one was when Jesus said he was asleep, and the other when Jesus said he was dead. ...Jesus called Lazarus to come out, and then said to the others “Unbind him and set him free.” Set him free from what? The things which bound him in life?
So Jesus is bound and wrapped and placed in a tomb - and the stone is rolled over the entrance. Is that a metaphor for faith? Is our faith bound, and wrapped, placed in a tomb and a stone rolled over the entrance to our hearts?
There is a Danish Christmas carol which is the perfect amalgamation of the meaning of Christmas and Easter. It is a minor key, slow but very powerful. The words of one verse go like this:
I am the thorns that crowned you, I am the whips that scourge,
I am the chains that bound you, who all my sins did purge.
I am the cross you shoulder, a cross that crucifies;
against your tomb the boulder. When will my heart arise?
When will our hearts arise? When the stone is rolled away, and faith emerges unbound and free. Then our hearts will arise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)