(First in a series based on the book "Christianity for the Rest of Us", by Diana Butler Bass)
As a child, my earliest strong memory of “church” was about the time we moved to Prince Albert, in Saskatchewan. My father had been called to Wesley United Church, and was involved heavily in the building of a new imposing structure, complete with Casavant pipe organ. It was just 1950 - the heyday of churches, and Wesley United was clearly in the vanguard of ths heyday. Prince Albert was not large, but like most settlements in North America, the Protestant churches had presence and power. The fifties and sixties, following the war, were a time of great growth in churches. The economy was booming, almost everyone was Christian, and churches went up everywhere.
But look a little closer at the history of Prince Albert. The Cree natives called it kistahpinanihk, the “sitting pretty place”, or “great meeting place”. The first farmer, on the site where the current city is, was an Anglo-Metis named James Isbister, an employee of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Chinese immigrants who worked the railroad also settled in Prince Albert - even in 1950 there were established businesses run by Chinese. Prince Albert, like Canada, was not founded or settled by Christians alone - our history is much more complex than that. By 1950, of course, the Cree natives who were the original inhabitants had been relegated to a reserve, across the river from the town, and the Chinese and Jewish populations were only visible if you really went looking.
Prince Albert isn’t gone, it is growing of course, and if I go back now, Wesley United is still there. But it isn’t the same any more. The town of Prince Albert in which I grew up simply isn’t there.
In her book “Christianity for the Rest of Us”, Diana Butler Bass talks about growing up in a part of Baltimore, Maryland, called Hamilton. She says “I grew up in a village that has vanished. .... Although Hamilton exists on the map, my childhood universe - an urban village of the 1960's - is gone. It’s almost as if it never existed at all. The names may be the same, but there are no maps, no freeway exits, back to the place that once was.” This is a story played out across all of North America. The landscape has changed dramatically, and it isn’t going to go back again.
Both Noah and Jesus had experience of dramatic change in their lives. In the case of Noah, the village he knew, and everything in it, disappeared. There was no way to return, even if he could have found the right landmarks. He had to beach the ark on an unknown piece of land, and start all over again. He did have his family with him, and some animals - and that was about it. The path of his life was altered irrevocably when he entered into relationship with God.
Jesus had a similar experience, and I struggle with whether or not it was intentional. I choose to believe it wasn’t. Jesus also entered into a relationship with God, and his life was irrevocably changed. Mark’s Gospel has offered us the bare bones of the story. Jesus was baptised, and Mark says that the Spirit sent him into the desert, and he was with the wild animals, but tended by angels. Mark says that when John was put in prison, Jesus began preaching about the coming realm. So Jesus began preaching about change when you enter into relationship with God.
Both Noah and Jesus, in their own way, had to go into the wilderness. They had to let go of everything they were familiar with, and trust God. They had to allow their entire lives to be changed by their faith, and by their exercise of that faith. Noah and his family lived on the ark with wild animals, and then got off the ark - somewhere. The story tells us God was with them. Jesus lived in the wilderness with wild animals, in a place unfamiliar to him, and on his own. But the story lets us know God was with him there too.
What does it mean for us to be in the wilderness? When are the times we feel we are the only ones facing uncertain futures? What makes us fearful? Do we want to circle the wagons and shut things out, hoping just to survive? Being in a wilderness means confronting our deepest longings and needs, and exposes us to danger - whether real or not. Neither Noah nor Jesus was actually harmed - so perhaps the wild animals in both places are a metaphor for those things in life which make us fearful.
Diana Butler Bass says “All over the planet, villages are vanishing. We know that everything is changing, that some sort of new world is emerging. Everywhere. And we have no idea what it is becoming.”
The book, “Christianity for the Rest of Us” , examines fifty congregations across the United States where new things are happening, from six denominations considered mainline churches, which are now considered to be in the minority in the Christian landscape. It is noted in the book that there is a myth around that only evangelical churches can grow, mainline churches can’t. Of these fifty churches, ten are studied in-depth. They are all mainline churches, not evangelical. Hence the title of the book - while the common perspective is that only evangelical or conservative churches are growing, the rest of us Christians are working away quietly and also growing and having an impact.
Of course the church is in the throes of this massive shift happening throughout our cultures. From being in a place where everyone else was like us, and we all did pretty much the same things - we are now dealing with congregants born post-1965 who don’t relate to that at all. In a sense, they are already more comfortable in the wilderness, and with the emerging world.
What if the time in the wilderness is where real vision of the peaceable realm of God comes? What if the time in the wilderness gave Jesus the insight and hope to begin preaching and teaching and healing and loving - wherever he was?
Diana Butler Bass says there are a couple of different sorts of Christians today. “There are those who prefer to build walled villages and do not want to see, and those who take risks in the wilderness and are willing to open their eyes.” The people who are willing to go into the wilderness are seekers on a faith journey, learning again what it means to live as a Christian and be a Christian in a rapidly changing world. They are forming a new kind of village, as a “pilgrim community”, rediscovering Christianity. She notes that the churches she visited were certainly not perfect, but they embodied courage, creativity, imagination, and risk. They were looking for new language to express their ideals, recreating their structures in a way which emphasised spirituality. They were experimenting with new forms of worship and living in community. It is sometimes called transformational church, but a term I like better is the re-remergent church.
The wisdom of this renewed, re-emergent church is, not surprisingly, based in a solid biblical model. “You preach the gospel, offer hospitality, and pay attention to worship and people’s spiritual lives. Frankly, you take Christianity seriously as a way of life.”
At the end of the story of Noah, God makes a promise. “It is a hard thing, to believe in a promise with no power to make it come true. Everything is in the future tense - the land.....the blessing. Everything will happen, by and by, but in the meantime what is there to live on now?
And yet. What better way to live than in the grip of a promise, and a divine one at that? Who in her right mind would give that back? To wake every morning to the possibility that today might be the day - to take nothing for granted. Or to take everything as granted, although not yet grasped....
To live like that is to discover that the blessing is not future but now. The promise may not be fully in hand. It may still be on the way, but to live reverently, deliberately, and fully awake - that is what it means to live in the promise, where the wait itself is just as rich as the end. All it takes are some regular reminders, because as long as the promise is renewed, the promise is alive, as vivid as a rainbow, as real as the million stars overhead.”
Sources:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Albert,_Saskatchewan
2. Diana Butler Bass, “Christianity for the Rest of Us”. HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.
3. Diana Butler Bass
4. Diana Butler Bass
5. Barbara Brown Taylor, from the sermon The Late Bloomer in Gospel Medicine, Cowley Publications, 1995.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
What Just Happened? February 22, 2009 Transfiguration Sunday Mark 9:2-9
Well, we all know that Fran loves to cruise. In cruisers’ lingo there is a term called PCD. Post-Cruise Depression. The joke goes that the only way to live with it is to book another cruise so you can look forward to something. It may sound funny, but depending on the experience, it can be hard to come back to real earth.
Two weeks ago I went on a cruise out of Panama, visiting Colombia, and the eastern Caribbean. It was without a doubt the best vacation I have been on. But it was a dream; in many ways, there was nothing real about it. Someone there to make the beds up in the morning and take them down at night; someone to cook and serve and clean up all the meals; as a repeat cruiser, a lounge where breakfast, evening hors d’oeuvres and wine and stuff are laid on free; interesting ports, formal nights, and being spoiled completely. For the people who work on those ships, it is real life of course; for us, it’s a dream. Coming back to reality can be a real shock.
I don’t use this story to trivialise what we call mountaintop experiences, but the aftermath is the same. It is so unreal, so good, that coming back “down” is hard.
You may have had a mountaintop moment, or a moment when the world around you was transformed and you heard the voice of God. These experiences come in all shapes, sizes, and kinds, and touch us in places we never think need to be touched, until it happens. The very experience suspends real time for us; time stops, or at least it seems as if time stops.
So what is this transfiguration business? What’s the point? We have some disciples supposedly seeing both Moses and Elijah. How did the disciples know the two figures with Jesus were Moses and Elijah?
Well, we could say it was the story teller’s way of showing that Jesus was really God’s son, and was now the sole authority for God on earth, taking into himself all that Moses and Elijah represented for the Jews. That would be the law and the prophets – the very heart of belief for the Jews. It may well be that Moses and Elijah were inserted in the text to make the point, that the law and the prophets came together and were incarnated in the person of Jesus.
But maybe that wraps it all up a little too neatly. Maybe we need to wrestle with this passage just a little. We can’t just assume that what we think it says, is it what it really says. Words and their meanings change, the story is set in a period of history about which we know something - but not everything.
What would you think if you saw a person’s appearance change “from the inside out”, right before your eyes. “His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them”. Clearly the vision is beyond description with mere human words.
There is a theory in some quarters that each human gives off light, an aura. In parapsychology and many forms of spiritual practice, an aura is a field of subtle, luminous radiation supposedly surrounding a person or object. For example, in religious art, people of particular power or holiness are depicted with a halo around the head, or some light around the body.
Then too, the Celtic peoples talk about the “thin places” where the connection to the spiritual plane is thinnest, and easiest to pass through. All we know in this story is that Jesus and the disciples went up a mountain. Tradition has that it was Mount Tabor, but in fact the mountain is never named. Maybe it doesn’t matter what mountain it was - mountains in the Bible always figure in important events. Was this one of those thin places, where Jesus and the disciples were so in touch with the spiritual that they had this experience? And after it was over they sat there shaking, and asking each other “What just happened?”.
Some of you, I am sure, have had something of the same kind of experience. Maybe you had something “other worldly” occur in your life that might be called a mystical experience, or a “mountain top” experience. You may not have wanted to share it with anyone. You couldn’t find the words to describe it, or you didn’t quite know what had happened yourself; you were afraid someone would think you were crazy. It’s funny isn’t it? We are a church, we are willing to say we believe some of the most unbelievable things, and yet we are afraid to speak about spiritual experiences because people might laugh at us, or call us crazy. We come away from such experiences shaking, saying to ourselves “What just happened?” We not only don’t want to talk about such experiences, but if we do tell someone, we ask them to keep it private, not to tell anyone else.
Then there is the other reality - that in comparison to the brightness, the high of the experience, the real world - the one we live in every day - seems drab in comparison. We want to run back into the experience. Or we are completely stunned and can’t figure what to do next - and we want to hold on.
That was how Peter reacted...wanting to stay in the brightness and colour and clarity of vision of the experience. The wondrous experience didn’t end with the vision. A cloud came down and they heard a voice - or at least they thought they did. And then the cloud lifted; Moses and Elijah were nowhere to be seen, and Jesus appeared once again in his probably dusty clothes. It was a colossal let-down. Mystical encounter with God - over. Can’t hold onto it. Nothing to do now but go back down the mountain into reality.
In every single one of the sermons I’ve heard and written on this text, the major focus is on the reaction of the disciples. It’s almost as if we assume Jesus knew what was going to happen, or made it happen, or made it some kind of teaching. The text doesn’t tell us that, though. The text says that Jesus and the disciples went up a mountain, and this experience happened to all of them. The text tells us that when it was over Jesus told them not to talk about it. In fact it looks to me like Jesus was a little stunned as well. Oh, he had a couple of similar experiences before - fasting in the desert, and then his baptism. But I can tell you from personal experience that no one goes out of his or her way to have one of those experiences. They are too dramatic and intense, and frankly draining. Jesus recognised the nature of the experience, but he also knew what the reaction would be if they all came running down the mountain saying they had seen Moses and Elijah, and seen Jesus talking to them, and shining like the brightest of suns. I have a feeling that despite his previous experience, Jesus was also saying “What just happened?” HE didn’t see Moses and Elijah - at least the text doesn’t say he did, it says the disciples did. And it says their vision was covered by a cloud. So we don’t actually know what happened to Jesus.
When we are fortunate enough to have those kinds of experiences that let us know there is something beyond our earthly world, experiences that leave us wanting to stay in the moment, rather than return to reality, we have to realise that we can’t package them or hold onto them to re-experience whenever we wish. We can’t come out of a prayer time in which God seemed especially close and hold onto that feeling. I think Jesus was wise enough to know that, even if the disciples didn’t.
So here we are, down from the mountain, back from the dream, back to living in a real world that seems rather mundane. What now?
The disciples caught a glimpse of what the realm of God would be like. Jesus kept telling them that the realm was at hand, and here was the view. Then they had to come back to what the world is, and live in it. There was a point. They were being called to come back to the ordinary world, to bring to it something extraordinary. They had to learn how to translate the wonder and insight of their experience into the ordinary day to day world.
It is what we are called to as well. Who are we? What is the vision of the realm? How do we retain the inspiration and joy as we return to the ordinary? Hold these questions, as we begin Lent.
[With thanks to Rev. Beverly Snedeker for inspiration for this sermon.]
Two weeks ago I went on a cruise out of Panama, visiting Colombia, and the eastern Caribbean. It was without a doubt the best vacation I have been on. But it was a dream; in many ways, there was nothing real about it. Someone there to make the beds up in the morning and take them down at night; someone to cook and serve and clean up all the meals; as a repeat cruiser, a lounge where breakfast, evening hors d’oeuvres and wine and stuff are laid on free; interesting ports, formal nights, and being spoiled completely. For the people who work on those ships, it is real life of course; for us, it’s a dream. Coming back to reality can be a real shock.
I don’t use this story to trivialise what we call mountaintop experiences, but the aftermath is the same. It is so unreal, so good, that coming back “down” is hard.
You may have had a mountaintop moment, or a moment when the world around you was transformed and you heard the voice of God. These experiences come in all shapes, sizes, and kinds, and touch us in places we never think need to be touched, until it happens. The very experience suspends real time for us; time stops, or at least it seems as if time stops.
So what is this transfiguration business? What’s the point? We have some disciples supposedly seeing both Moses and Elijah. How did the disciples know the two figures with Jesus were Moses and Elijah?
Well, we could say it was the story teller’s way of showing that Jesus was really God’s son, and was now the sole authority for God on earth, taking into himself all that Moses and Elijah represented for the Jews. That would be the law and the prophets – the very heart of belief for the Jews. It may well be that Moses and Elijah were inserted in the text to make the point, that the law and the prophets came together and were incarnated in the person of Jesus.
But maybe that wraps it all up a little too neatly. Maybe we need to wrestle with this passage just a little. We can’t just assume that what we think it says, is it what it really says. Words and their meanings change, the story is set in a period of history about which we know something - but not everything.
What would you think if you saw a person’s appearance change “from the inside out”, right before your eyes. “His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them”. Clearly the vision is beyond description with mere human words.
There is a theory in some quarters that each human gives off light, an aura. In parapsychology and many forms of spiritual practice, an aura is a field of subtle, luminous radiation supposedly surrounding a person or object. For example, in religious art, people of particular power or holiness are depicted with a halo around the head, or some light around the body.
Then too, the Celtic peoples talk about the “thin places” where the connection to the spiritual plane is thinnest, and easiest to pass through. All we know in this story is that Jesus and the disciples went up a mountain. Tradition has that it was Mount Tabor, but in fact the mountain is never named. Maybe it doesn’t matter what mountain it was - mountains in the Bible always figure in important events. Was this one of those thin places, where Jesus and the disciples were so in touch with the spiritual that they had this experience? And after it was over they sat there shaking, and asking each other “What just happened?”.
Some of you, I am sure, have had something of the same kind of experience. Maybe you had something “other worldly” occur in your life that might be called a mystical experience, or a “mountain top” experience. You may not have wanted to share it with anyone. You couldn’t find the words to describe it, or you didn’t quite know what had happened yourself; you were afraid someone would think you were crazy. It’s funny isn’t it? We are a church, we are willing to say we believe some of the most unbelievable things, and yet we are afraid to speak about spiritual experiences because people might laugh at us, or call us crazy. We come away from such experiences shaking, saying to ourselves “What just happened?” We not only don’t want to talk about such experiences, but if we do tell someone, we ask them to keep it private, not to tell anyone else.
Then there is the other reality - that in comparison to the brightness, the high of the experience, the real world - the one we live in every day - seems drab in comparison. We want to run back into the experience. Or we are completely stunned and can’t figure what to do next - and we want to hold on.
That was how Peter reacted...wanting to stay in the brightness and colour and clarity of vision of the experience. The wondrous experience didn’t end with the vision. A cloud came down and they heard a voice - or at least they thought they did. And then the cloud lifted; Moses and Elijah were nowhere to be seen, and Jesus appeared once again in his probably dusty clothes. It was a colossal let-down. Mystical encounter with God - over. Can’t hold onto it. Nothing to do now but go back down the mountain into reality.
In every single one of the sermons I’ve heard and written on this text, the major focus is on the reaction of the disciples. It’s almost as if we assume Jesus knew what was going to happen, or made it happen, or made it some kind of teaching. The text doesn’t tell us that, though. The text says that Jesus and the disciples went up a mountain, and this experience happened to all of them. The text tells us that when it was over Jesus told them not to talk about it. In fact it looks to me like Jesus was a little stunned as well. Oh, he had a couple of similar experiences before - fasting in the desert, and then his baptism. But I can tell you from personal experience that no one goes out of his or her way to have one of those experiences. They are too dramatic and intense, and frankly draining. Jesus recognised the nature of the experience, but he also knew what the reaction would be if they all came running down the mountain saying they had seen Moses and Elijah, and seen Jesus talking to them, and shining like the brightest of suns. I have a feeling that despite his previous experience, Jesus was also saying “What just happened?” HE didn’t see Moses and Elijah - at least the text doesn’t say he did, it says the disciples did. And it says their vision was covered by a cloud. So we don’t actually know what happened to Jesus.
When we are fortunate enough to have those kinds of experiences that let us know there is something beyond our earthly world, experiences that leave us wanting to stay in the moment, rather than return to reality, we have to realise that we can’t package them or hold onto them to re-experience whenever we wish. We can’t come out of a prayer time in which God seemed especially close and hold onto that feeling. I think Jesus was wise enough to know that, even if the disciples didn’t.
So here we are, down from the mountain, back from the dream, back to living in a real world that seems rather mundane. What now?
The disciples caught a glimpse of what the realm of God would be like. Jesus kept telling them that the realm was at hand, and here was the view. Then they had to come back to what the world is, and live in it. There was a point. They were being called to come back to the ordinary world, to bring to it something extraordinary. They had to learn how to translate the wonder and insight of their experience into the ordinary day to day world.
It is what we are called to as well. Who are we? What is the vision of the realm? How do we retain the inspiration and joy as we return to the ordinary? Hold these questions, as we begin Lent.
[With thanks to Rev. Beverly Snedeker for inspiration for this sermon.]
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Healing and Touch Mark 1:40-45 Sixth Sunday of Epiphany
Have you ever had head lice in your home? Your children come home from school with a note that a student was found with lice...
When Norio and I were younger, and moved to Michigan, we spent a couple of weeks in a motel before finding a more permanent home. It was only after we moved into our new home that we found out the children, all four of them, had lice.
Makes you itch just thinking about it, doesn’t it?
And look at all the assumptions which come with it - that infected people don’t have good hygiene; that they live in dirty homes; it’s their own fault that they are infected, as if they invited the lice to come and live on their heads. We try to stay away from them, as if somehow lice can jump from head to head, or person to person. [i]
Rev. Nancy Price, in Nova Scotia, tells the story of a young doctor treating a child with AIDS. It was clear this child was suffering, was alone, and because of the child's physical condition would not know love or care. This young doctor hugged and held the child. His family, and even the nurses, chastised him for showing affection and care to this terrified child. [ii]
Now, it is clear that AIDS can’t be contracted by hugging someone - but we still treat those suffering as if they are lepers. Remember the proposals to take all the AIDS sufferers and isolate them on a island? Separate everyone from the mainstream population?
And remember the pictures of Princess Diana, hugging people with AIDS, with sick and dying children on her lap? When commenting about Diana, Nelson Mandela said:
"When she stroked the limbs of someone with leprosy, or sat on the bed of a man with HIV/AIDS and held his hand, she transformed public attitudes and improved the life chances of such people, people felt if a British princess can go to a ward with HIV patients, then there's nothing to be superstitious about."[iii]
The Biblical word for leprosy includes several types of skin disease, including what we call leprosy today, but also including psoriasis, acne, rosacea, liver-coloured birthmarks. Culturally, if the outside was blemished, it was assumed that the “inside” was blemished too. Sin was seen as the root cause of all forms of leprosy.
Remember the stories about sacrifices in the temple? The people believed, because the religious leaders told them, that every animal for sacrifice had to be completely unblemished. Purity laws required it.
A leper approached Jesus - now, we don’t know what the skin condition was, or how long he had it. What seems clear is that he was not willing to remain isolated from human contact or human community. He went to Jesus and issued what was tantamount to a challenge. He said to Jesus “If you choose, you can make me clean.” and Jesus, “filled with compassion, reached out his hand and touched the man.”
There are two things I see in this text - first, that the man does not directly say to Jesus “heal me, make my body whole and unblemished.” I see it more as a challenge to set aside the norm of society which isolated people who were ill, and to accept them into the mainstream despite their disease.
‘Especially if the translation "declare me clean" is used, this leper is approaching Jesus as a priest -- one who had the power and authority to declare lepers clean and thus restore them to normal society.
Myers (Binding the Strong Man) writes about this: "The leper appears aware that his approach to Jesus, a nonpriest, was itself in violation of the symbolic system, which is why he gives Jesus a chance to refuse. It is almost as if he says, "You could declare me clean if only you would dare (1:40)."
Witherington (The Gospel of Mark) also notes: "...the primary concern is with being clean so that he can reenter Jewish society, being a whole person. This is a very Jewish way of looking at disease, by focusing on its ritual effects, whereas a pagan would have simply said, 'If you will, you can make me well.'" [p. 103]’[iv]
But there is something more. Our translation reads “reached out his hand”, but a closer translation says Jesus took the man to him. In other words, he hugged the man.
By hugging the man, even by touching him, Jesus himself then became “unclean”. So Jesus also could not go into the normal places - synagogue, marketplace. He had to remain isolated and outside as well.
Jesus touched the leper. He left the safety of his ‘clean’ world and entered the world of the leper with the simple act of touching him.
In my trip two weeks ago, I took an excursion to the city of Cartagena de Indias, in Colombia. We drove around the old part of the city, investigated the fortifications and walls; the next stop on the trip was the Plaza de Inquisicion - the Palace of the Inquisition, where the Spanish supposedly investigated witchcraft. More than two hundred people were burned as witches and heretics.
Right next to this museum is the Cathedral of Saint Peter Claver, a Jesuit known as the Patron Saint of the slaves. He was canonised in 1888.
Cartagena was a chief centre for the slave trade in the Americas for over 100 years. Ten thousand slaves poured into the port each year after crossing the Atlantic from West Africa under conditions so foul and inhuman that an estimated one-third of the passengers died in transit. Pope Paul III condemned the slave trade, Pius IX called it “supreme villainy" but it continued to flourish. Claver declared himself "the slave of the Negroes forever."
“As soon as a slave ship entered the port, Peter Claver moved into its infested hold to minister to the ill-treated and miserable passengers. After the slaves were herded out of the ship like chained animals and shut up in nearby yards to be gazed at by the crowds, Claver plunged in among them with medicines, food, bread, brandy, lemons and tobacco. With the help of interpreters he gave basic instructions and assured his brothers and sisters of their human dignity and God's saving love...Claver understood that concrete service like the distributing of medicine, food or brandy to his black brothers and sisters could be as effective a communication of the word of God as mere verbal preaching. As Peter Claver often said, "We must speak to them with our hands before we try to speak to them with our lips."[v]
We must speak with our hands before we try to speak with our lips.
What does it mean, in this day and age, to be “clean”? Is cleanliness next to godliness? If we shower every day and make sure we don’t have a bad odour, no pimples or acne, no chapped skin - are we godly people? Is that all it takes to be clean inside? Or is it the other way around? Is it that being loving and generous people (godly people) makes us clean inside? Is outer cleanliness an indication of what kind of people we are?
In the Toronto Star this weekend, there was a story about a native man who allowed his two young children to freeze to death in the midst of winter. In petitioning the judge, one of the elders commented that the man should be restored to health (ie healed) within the circle of the community - that in fact to exclude him from the community would prevent his healing, and hence the community could not be healed either.[vi]
And this is the other part of the story of the leper’s healing. In reaching out, holding him, touching him, Jesus did what the priests in the temple have refused to do - he has restored this man to community - and he sends the man back to the priests to show them. In the same way, in reaching out and touching those who are considered “lepers” today - those lepers are restored to life in community. Healing takes place - perhaps the healing of the disease if that is possible, but certainly the healing of the soul. May it be so.
[i]. Rev. Randy Quinn, from the sermon “Cleanliness is Next to Godliness”.
[ii]. Rev. Nancy Price, from the Midrash discussion list
[iii]. Nelson Mandela, November 2, 2002
[iv]. Brian P. Stoffregen Exegetical Notes, at CrossMarks Christian Resources http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/mark1x40.htm
[v]. St. Peter Claver http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Claver
[vi]. http://www.thestar.com/News/Canada/article/587620
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Hearts Healed A sermon based on Isaiah 40:21-31 Fifth Sunday in Epiphany
"Raise your eyes upward, and look to the heavens. Who created all these? The one who brings out the host of stars, and calls them each by name. Because of God’s great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.
Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, "My way is hidden, my cause is disregarded by God"?
Do you not know? Have you not heard? God is the Creator of the ends of the earth. God will not grow tired or weary; but no one can grasp the magnitude of God’s understanding. God gives strength to those who are tired, and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young people will stumble and fall; but those who hope in God have their strength renewed. They will soar on wings, like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
*****************************************************************************
A man was out walking in the mountains, enjoying the scenery, when he stepped too close to the edge and fell. On the way down, he was able to grab a limb of a gnarly old tree hanging from the side of the cliff. He was about 100 feet down, on the side of a sheer cliff, and about 900 feet from the floor of the canyon below. If the tree gave way, he'd fall to his death. In fear he cried out, "Help me!" Again and again he cried out, but to no avail.
Finally he yelled, "Is anybody up there?"
A voice replied, "Yes, I'm up here."
"Who is it?"
"It's God"
"Can you help me?"
"Yes, I can help."
"Help me!"
"Let go."
Looking around the man panicked. "What?!?!"
"Let go. I will catch you." said God.
"Is anybody else up there?"
*****************************************************************************
There’s another story I wanted to put in here. It’s the one which has gone around about a flood, and a man who won’t evacuate when others do because he believes God will swoop in and save him. As he is huddled on the roof of his house someone comes by in a canoe and offers to take him to dry land. “No” replies the man “God will save me.” A while later someone comes by in a rowboat, and offers to take him off the roof. Again he replies “No, God will save me.” Sometime later a helicopter comes by, and the man waves it off. Hours later, huddled on the roof as the waters rise and the house begins to go down, the man cries out to God “Why didn’t you save me? I’ve had faith and I have been waiting.” And God replies “I sent you the canoe, the rowboat and the helicopter and you refused them all. What did you expect?”
*****************************************************************************
Some of you know that from time to time I do a blog on the Wondercafe website at the United Church. This week, a person asked why, when they are reading scripture and studying the Bible and trying to live life properly, why do they not get an answer from God which they can recognise? My question to this person was, what would it take? What do they mean “...and answer I can recognise.” and suggested that perhaps they are looking so hard for something they can recognise, that God’s answer is going right on by and they aren’t seeing it.
I think all these stories are pretty typical, and they have nothing to do with our age or maturity - but much to do with our frailty and humanity. We pray to God and want an answer to our prayers instantly. We want God to come to us the way WE want. We want some Damascus road experience, something which grabs our attention, like thunder and lightning and a voice out of the clouds - we want the answers we want, and forget that perhaps God knows the answer we need.
The people of Judah must have felt the same. They were living as slaves in Babylon, hundreds of miles from their homes. The temple had been destroyed, and God seemed to have forgotten them. They felt, literally, God-forsaken.
Unfortunately we have been taught to believe that God will come and help us solve our crises, heal our diseases, turn our mourning into joy, mend relationships, end hardship, and dry all our tears. And I believe God does all those things, in our lifetime - but just maybe not the way we want or expect it to be done, and in God’s time.
We are impatient if God doesn’t act on our prayers right away, partly I think because we are a society not known for waiting for things. Everything is now at our fingertips. Book a plane ticket, a cruise, on the internet; got a pain, some big pharma company has just what you need; got a medical problem, need to lose weight? Got a headache? Got a heartache? Just call a dating service, find your perfect match. All the way down to the most mundane - instant noodles in a cup, just add hot water. In fact, now in Japan you can buy little freeze dried packs of instant miso soup. How many people have we seen on the cellphone before the plane even gets to the gate, or talking while they drive? Information, goods and services, virtually everything comes to us faster and faster, and we expect instantaneous response. If people don’t respond to us the way we want them to, we start imagining what they are thinking, and then assume it is the truth about how they and we relate. There is no space for waiting, or for working at something.
So we try to squeeze God into that instant response mold; but not only that, we want the answers we want, in the format we want, so that they are easily recognisable, instantly identifiable as God, right here, no doubt at all. And God just doesn’t work that way.
I want to ask you this. Is there something about those “god-forsaken” moments which might be of benefit to us? Is this a life test? Is it that in fact we have to do some spiritual work here, to *discern* - there’s that word again - *discern* what God might be adding to our lives, or where God *is already* in our lives? Is it that we have to take on faith that God *is* present, and not expect some neon sign flashing which says “Yes, God is here!”?
The message from Isaiah *is* that God is here, now. Perhaps we haven’t seen, perhaps our hearts are so weary and our sight so darkened that we cannot see. Nevertheless, if we believe in a God of Creation, a God who names stars and who names us as well, then we cannot say we have been deserted by God. God is constant, we are the inconstant factor. Perhaps sometimes our lives seem to wander and we aren’t able to see clearly into the future, when we desperately want to be able to see. Perhaps we want to scrunch God in there with the life assurance - there’s a hilarious term - and the GIC’s and the investments....so it can all be mapped out with no questionable parts at all.
I believe that God is always with me. God heals the wounds, and sets my feet on the path I need to travel, and I in return have to walk it with trust. That doesn’t mean I just turn everything over to God and sit there waiting. I do have to do something too. I have to get into the boat, or the helicopter, or set out on a different path. I have to learn to look and see where God is, and grasp that connection. God is there, God never leaves. - and for each of the ills which wounds us in this life, God heals. Thanks be to God.
Our hymn is one of my very favourites -
“Healer of our every ill, light of each tomorrow,
Give us strength beyond our fears, and hope beyond our sorrow.
In the pain and joy beholding how your love is still unfolding,
Give us all your vision, God of love.”
Sources:
1. Rev. Frank Schaefer “Strength in the Desert”
2. “Healer of Our Every Ill” Words and Music by Marty Haugen 1987. C. GIA Publications 1991.
3. Isaiah 40:27-31 paraphrase
Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, "My way is hidden, my cause is disregarded by God"?
Do you not know? Have you not heard? God is the Creator of the ends of the earth. God will not grow tired or weary; but no one can grasp the magnitude of God’s understanding. God gives strength to those who are tired, and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young people will stumble and fall; but those who hope in God have their strength renewed. They will soar on wings, like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
*****************************************************************************
A man was out walking in the mountains, enjoying the scenery, when he stepped too close to the edge and fell. On the way down, he was able to grab a limb of a gnarly old tree hanging from the side of the cliff. He was about 100 feet down, on the side of a sheer cliff, and about 900 feet from the floor of the canyon below. If the tree gave way, he'd fall to his death. In fear he cried out, "Help me!" Again and again he cried out, but to no avail.
Finally he yelled, "Is anybody up there?"
A voice replied, "Yes, I'm up here."
"Who is it?"
"It's God"
"Can you help me?"
"Yes, I can help."
"Help me!"
"Let go."
Looking around the man panicked. "What?!?!"
"Let go. I will catch you." said God.
"Is anybody else up there?"
*****************************************************************************
There’s another story I wanted to put in here. It’s the one which has gone around about a flood, and a man who won’t evacuate when others do because he believes God will swoop in and save him. As he is huddled on the roof of his house someone comes by in a canoe and offers to take him to dry land. “No” replies the man “God will save me.” A while later someone comes by in a rowboat, and offers to take him off the roof. Again he replies “No, God will save me.” Sometime later a helicopter comes by, and the man waves it off. Hours later, huddled on the roof as the waters rise and the house begins to go down, the man cries out to God “Why didn’t you save me? I’ve had faith and I have been waiting.” And God replies “I sent you the canoe, the rowboat and the helicopter and you refused them all. What did you expect?”
*****************************************************************************
Some of you know that from time to time I do a blog on the Wondercafe website at the United Church. This week, a person asked why, when they are reading scripture and studying the Bible and trying to live life properly, why do they not get an answer from God which they can recognise? My question to this person was, what would it take? What do they mean “...and answer I can recognise.” and suggested that perhaps they are looking so hard for something they can recognise, that God’s answer is going right on by and they aren’t seeing it.
I think all these stories are pretty typical, and they have nothing to do with our age or maturity - but much to do with our frailty and humanity. We pray to God and want an answer to our prayers instantly. We want God to come to us the way WE want. We want some Damascus road experience, something which grabs our attention, like thunder and lightning and a voice out of the clouds - we want the answers we want, and forget that perhaps God knows the answer we need.
The people of Judah must have felt the same. They were living as slaves in Babylon, hundreds of miles from their homes. The temple had been destroyed, and God seemed to have forgotten them. They felt, literally, God-forsaken.
Unfortunately we have been taught to believe that God will come and help us solve our crises, heal our diseases, turn our mourning into joy, mend relationships, end hardship, and dry all our tears. And I believe God does all those things, in our lifetime - but just maybe not the way we want or expect it to be done, and in God’s time.
We are impatient if God doesn’t act on our prayers right away, partly I think because we are a society not known for waiting for things. Everything is now at our fingertips. Book a plane ticket, a cruise, on the internet; got a pain, some big pharma company has just what you need; got a medical problem, need to lose weight? Got a headache? Got a heartache? Just call a dating service, find your perfect match. All the way down to the most mundane - instant noodles in a cup, just add hot water. In fact, now in Japan you can buy little freeze dried packs of instant miso soup. How many people have we seen on the cellphone before the plane even gets to the gate, or talking while they drive? Information, goods and services, virtually everything comes to us faster and faster, and we expect instantaneous response. If people don’t respond to us the way we want them to, we start imagining what they are thinking, and then assume it is the truth about how they and we relate. There is no space for waiting, or for working at something.
So we try to squeeze God into that instant response mold; but not only that, we want the answers we want, in the format we want, so that they are easily recognisable, instantly identifiable as God, right here, no doubt at all. And God just doesn’t work that way.
I want to ask you this. Is there something about those “god-forsaken” moments which might be of benefit to us? Is this a life test? Is it that in fact we have to do some spiritual work here, to *discern* - there’s that word again - *discern* what God might be adding to our lives, or where God *is already* in our lives? Is it that we have to take on faith that God *is* present, and not expect some neon sign flashing which says “Yes, God is here!”?
The message from Isaiah *is* that God is here, now. Perhaps we haven’t seen, perhaps our hearts are so weary and our sight so darkened that we cannot see. Nevertheless, if we believe in a God of Creation, a God who names stars and who names us as well, then we cannot say we have been deserted by God. God is constant, we are the inconstant factor. Perhaps sometimes our lives seem to wander and we aren’t able to see clearly into the future, when we desperately want to be able to see. Perhaps we want to scrunch God in there with the life assurance - there’s a hilarious term - and the GIC’s and the investments....so it can all be mapped out with no questionable parts at all.
I believe that God is always with me. God heals the wounds, and sets my feet on the path I need to travel, and I in return have to walk it with trust. That doesn’t mean I just turn everything over to God and sit there waiting. I do have to do something too. I have to get into the boat, or the helicopter, or set out on a different path. I have to learn to look and see where God is, and grasp that connection. God is there, God never leaves. - and for each of the ills which wounds us in this life, God heals. Thanks be to God.
Our hymn is one of my very favourites -
“Healer of our every ill, light of each tomorrow,
Give us strength beyond our fears, and hope beyond our sorrow.
In the pain and joy beholding how your love is still unfolding,
Give us all your vision, God of love.”
Sources:
1. Rev. Frank Schaefer “Strength in the Desert”
2. “Healer of Our Every Ill” Words and Music by Marty Haugen 1987. C. GIA Publications 1991.
3. Isaiah 40:27-31 paraphrase
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Called and Named Epiphany 2 1 Samuel 3:1-10, John 1:43-51
During the presidential election campaign in the United States last year, the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. - whose birthday observance falls today - found its way into the election campaign.
Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney, a Republican, claimed that he saw his father march with Dr. King in 1963. In fact, Romney’s father had never appeared with Dr. King, even though he had been a strong supporter of civil rights during his political career. What Romney *meant*, his campaign stated, was that he “figuratively” saw his father with Dr. King. Frank Rich, a columnist for the New York Times suggested that the insertion of race into the discussion was to deflect any possible charge of racial insensitivity; Romney’s own church discriminated against blacks until 1978, and he had never spoken out.
Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton said in a speech that “Dr. King’s dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964... It took a president to get it done.” Members of Barack Obama’s staff felt her comment diminished Dr. King’s legacy. Senator Clinton’s staff said she was paying homage to both men.
Dr. King, however, would always point to the God who had been his guide throughout his life, and would have seen himself simply as a disciple living the call.
In her book “The Gospel of John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” author Gail O’Day talks about the “drama of discipleship”. And this morning we have two stories of both call, and discipleship.
Samuel, just a boy lying in bed. Now, the name Samuel in Hebrew means “God hears”, and it also means “son of God”. This boy wakens to God's voice calling him. God tells Samuel that he is to go and speak to Israel with the authority of God behind him. It is the story of a great prophet being called, even when still a boy. God’s intent leaves absolutely no possibility of any doubt.
This is probably what most people consider a call - something so dramatic as to stop us in our tracks, and change the course of our lives so significantly that there can be no doubt.
In December of 1955, Rose Parks was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama for refusing to move to the back of a city bus. Leaders in the African-American community organized a city-wide transportation boycott, and turned to the young black pastor, Martin Luther King, Jr. as the leader. King was just 26 years old, and he wrestled with issues of call; call to ministry, call to discipleship, and whether or not his role was simply local pastor. In the end, he concluded that God called him to this new ministry as well - and the rest is history. He became President of a new organisation called the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He organised the great civil rights marches. We know he received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, but we also know that this call spelled the end of his life, figuratively and literally speaking.
Well, let’s look at the second story - the call of Nathanael. Nathanael means, in Hebrew, “a gift of God”. The story tells us Jesus had seen Nathanael sitting under a fig tree even before Philip went to get him. I wondered if perhaps there was some significance to the fig tree. It gave good shade, and maybe sitting under the tree was a good place to read, get cool, take a nap, or sleep off the previous night’s fun. Now, Jesus simply talks to Nathanael after Philip goes to “call him out” from under the fig tree. That’s all Jesus did. Nothing spectacular - and the funny thing is, Nathanael is called to be a disciple. No dramatic vision, just a man saying "Follow my way."
Now, as the author of the story, John believed Jesus was the Messiah, born in Bethlehem, but he *identifies* Jesus as from Nazareth, and Nathanael’s first question is “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” So he goes into this a sceptic. John’s whole point, of course, is that this Messiah is a real human being from a backwater town - and that this man was called as well.
Whose call was more real? The drama of God’s voice in the middle of the night? Or something as quiet as “Come out?”. Both Samuel and Nathanael were disciples - they were ordinary people who were called by God to live and speak faith. They were called to ministry - but the point is they were *not* called to *ordained* ministry or a specialised priesthood. God named them and called them.
We tend to think that a call has to be something dramatic, like a Damascus road experience, or a burning bush, or a voice in the darkness. John demonstrates to us clearly that we are all called and named, and it isn’t any sudden flash of insight - but instead something as simple as the words “I saw you sitting there. Come.”
It doesn’t mean you have to take up a call to ministry in the church. Not at all. It *does* mean that as someone professing to be Christian, you are professing that you are called and named as a follower of the way.
Dr. O’Day asks this question; “Why are there so many names for Jesus? Each disciple sees something different in Jesus and bears witness in his own way. Each disciple came to Jesus with differing expectations and needs – one needed a teacher, another the Messiah, another the fulfillment of scripture – and each of these needs was met…”
Can anything good come from Nazareth? Can anything good come from Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump? Or Ferintosh, Alberta? Or the tiny island of Gossen in Norway, or the lump of land in Finland known as Korvatunturi?
Nathanael missed it completely. So do most of us. God’s call *does* come to the ordinary. - farmers, fishermen, sailors, truck drivers, mechanics, engineers, carpenters. It is not a call to drop our current lives and go into ordained ministry - but a call to follow even while doing what we do. Seeing what we do as a calling, with God at the centre, as the voice which moves us.
All Philip said was "Come and see" – a simple invitation to meet Jesus. What good can come from Glen Ayr? What is our call to discipleship? It is up to you - because you are all called and named. Each of you - each of us, is a Nathanael - a gift of God, and we are each a Samuel - a child of God. So - come, and see - what is the call in this world, today, in this tiny corner of the city of Toronto?
CALLED
We are called
to leave behind our solitary searching,
to put on that single garment of destiny -
the uniform of faithfulness -
worn by creatures great and small,
old and forgotten,
young and eager,
broken and bewildered,
spirited and set on fire:
sisters and brothers who share not race or tongue,
but whose hearts are claimed by love,
signed by a cross.
Our future is together, arm in arm,
finding healing as we heal,
knowing freedom in our forgiving.
We are the strangest travellers:
seeking no reward at trail's end,
As long as we know the joy of journeying with him.
We are called
Disciples.
We are called
His.
Sources and acknowledgments:
1. Dr. Frank Trotter, First United Methodist Church, Pasadena, California Sermon “The Drama of Discipleship” January 20, 2008.
2. Dr. Gail O’Day. The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995). Dr. O’Day is Professor of Homiletics at Candler School of Theology, Emory University, in Atlanta, Georgia.
3. Rev. John Nadasi, Paonia United Methodist Church, Colorado. Sermon “Can Anything Good Come from Nazareth?”
4. Poem by Timothy Haut, Deep River, Connecticut. January 18, 2009.
Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney, a Republican, claimed that he saw his father march with Dr. King in 1963. In fact, Romney’s father had never appeared with Dr. King, even though he had been a strong supporter of civil rights during his political career. What Romney *meant*, his campaign stated, was that he “figuratively” saw his father with Dr. King. Frank Rich, a columnist for the New York Times suggested that the insertion of race into the discussion was to deflect any possible charge of racial insensitivity; Romney’s own church discriminated against blacks until 1978, and he had never spoken out.
Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton said in a speech that “Dr. King’s dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964... It took a president to get it done.” Members of Barack Obama’s staff felt her comment diminished Dr. King’s legacy. Senator Clinton’s staff said she was paying homage to both men.
Dr. King, however, would always point to the God who had been his guide throughout his life, and would have seen himself simply as a disciple living the call.
In her book “The Gospel of John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” author Gail O’Day talks about the “drama of discipleship”. And this morning we have two stories of both call, and discipleship.
Samuel, just a boy lying in bed. Now, the name Samuel in Hebrew means “God hears”, and it also means “son of God”. This boy wakens to God's voice calling him. God tells Samuel that he is to go and speak to Israel with the authority of God behind him. It is the story of a great prophet being called, even when still a boy. God’s intent leaves absolutely no possibility of any doubt.
This is probably what most people consider a call - something so dramatic as to stop us in our tracks, and change the course of our lives so significantly that there can be no doubt.
In December of 1955, Rose Parks was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama for refusing to move to the back of a city bus. Leaders in the African-American community organized a city-wide transportation boycott, and turned to the young black pastor, Martin Luther King, Jr. as the leader. King was just 26 years old, and he wrestled with issues of call; call to ministry, call to discipleship, and whether or not his role was simply local pastor. In the end, he concluded that God called him to this new ministry as well - and the rest is history. He became President of a new organisation called the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He organised the great civil rights marches. We know he received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, but we also know that this call spelled the end of his life, figuratively and literally speaking.
Well, let’s look at the second story - the call of Nathanael. Nathanael means, in Hebrew, “a gift of God”. The story tells us Jesus had seen Nathanael sitting under a fig tree even before Philip went to get him. I wondered if perhaps there was some significance to the fig tree. It gave good shade, and maybe sitting under the tree was a good place to read, get cool, take a nap, or sleep off the previous night’s fun. Now, Jesus simply talks to Nathanael after Philip goes to “call him out” from under the fig tree. That’s all Jesus did. Nothing spectacular - and the funny thing is, Nathanael is called to be a disciple. No dramatic vision, just a man saying "Follow my way."
Now, as the author of the story, John believed Jesus was the Messiah, born in Bethlehem, but he *identifies* Jesus as from Nazareth, and Nathanael’s first question is “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” So he goes into this a sceptic. John’s whole point, of course, is that this Messiah is a real human being from a backwater town - and that this man was called as well.
Whose call was more real? The drama of God’s voice in the middle of the night? Or something as quiet as “Come out?”. Both Samuel and Nathanael were disciples - they were ordinary people who were called by God to live and speak faith. They were called to ministry - but the point is they were *not* called to *ordained* ministry or a specialised priesthood. God named them and called them.
We tend to think that a call has to be something dramatic, like a Damascus road experience, or a burning bush, or a voice in the darkness. John demonstrates to us clearly that we are all called and named, and it isn’t any sudden flash of insight - but instead something as simple as the words “I saw you sitting there. Come.”
It doesn’t mean you have to take up a call to ministry in the church. Not at all. It *does* mean that as someone professing to be Christian, you are professing that you are called and named as a follower of the way.
Dr. O’Day asks this question; “Why are there so many names for Jesus? Each disciple sees something different in Jesus and bears witness in his own way. Each disciple came to Jesus with differing expectations and needs – one needed a teacher, another the Messiah, another the fulfillment of scripture – and each of these needs was met…”
Can anything good come from Nazareth? Can anything good come from Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump? Or Ferintosh, Alberta? Or the tiny island of Gossen in Norway, or the lump of land in Finland known as Korvatunturi?
Nathanael missed it completely. So do most of us. God’s call *does* come to the ordinary. - farmers, fishermen, sailors, truck drivers, mechanics, engineers, carpenters. It is not a call to drop our current lives and go into ordained ministry - but a call to follow even while doing what we do. Seeing what we do as a calling, with God at the centre, as the voice which moves us.
All Philip said was "Come and see" – a simple invitation to meet Jesus. What good can come from Glen Ayr? What is our call to discipleship? It is up to you - because you are all called and named. Each of you - each of us, is a Nathanael - a gift of God, and we are each a Samuel - a child of God. So - come, and see - what is the call in this world, today, in this tiny corner of the city of Toronto?
CALLED
We are called
to leave behind our solitary searching,
to put on that single garment of destiny -
the uniform of faithfulness -
worn by creatures great and small,
old and forgotten,
young and eager,
broken and bewildered,
spirited and set on fire:
sisters and brothers who share not race or tongue,
but whose hearts are claimed by love,
signed by a cross.
Our future is together, arm in arm,
finding healing as we heal,
knowing freedom in our forgiving.
We are the strangest travellers:
seeking no reward at trail's end,
As long as we know the joy of journeying with him.
We are called
Disciples.
We are called
His.
Sources and acknowledgments:
1. Dr. Frank Trotter, First United Methodist Church, Pasadena, California Sermon “The Drama of Discipleship” January 20, 2008.
2. Dr. Gail O’Day. The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995). Dr. O’Day is Professor of Homiletics at Candler School of Theology, Emory University, in Atlanta, Georgia.
3. Rev. John Nadasi, Paonia United Methodist Church, Colorado. Sermon “Can Anything Good Come from Nazareth?”
4. Poem by Timothy Haut, Deep River, Connecticut. January 18, 2009.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
By Water and Word Baptism of Jesus Genesis 1:1-7, Mark 1:7-11
On the communion table this morning, there is a kind of arrangement of candles, water, and greenery. I was trying to find a way to bring together the light of creation, light of Epiphany, light of Jesus. Christmas lights and Christmas candles are a kind of theological statement of light being born into the world, and a direct connection to the story of creation. The light of Epiphany is connected to a star, but also connected to understanding, insight, and new creation. Water is also a sign of creation, and a sign of new insight, new beginnings, new life patterned after the way of Jesus.
And so the symbols for Epiphany, particularly this Sunday in the Epiphany season, are the liturgical colours white - for light - and green - for creation. And candles symbolise creation, light, life, the Holy Spirit. So does the water.
Ralph Milton, in his weekly comments in the newletter Rumors, says: “Light is far more than simply something to see by. The light of the sun is converted to energy that is stored in plant life and from there in animal life. In fact, life would be impossible without the sun........So the metaphor works.” God provides the light in our world by which we live physically, and God provides light in Jesus, through which we draw our spiritual life.
Baptism and the use of water for purification, or “mikvah” has its roots in Jewish rituals. In the Jewish texts, immersion in water for ritual purification was established for restoration to a condition of "ritual purity" in specific circumstances. I have mentioned purity laws and rituals in other sermons. For example, Jews who (according to the Law of Moses) became ritually defiled by contact with a corpse had to use the “mikvah” before being allowed to participate in the Holy Temple. Immersion is required for those who wish to convert to Judaism. Immersion in the mikvah represents a change in status in regards to purification, restoration, and qualification for full religious participation in the life of the community.
So Jesus came to be baptised by John, a man who preached repentance in the face of God's imminent judgement. John had a large following during the time of Jesus, with many people seeking John's baptismal purification in the River Jordan. Many of the earliest followers of Jesus were other people who were baptized by John. Scholars broadly agree that the baptism of Jesus is one of the most historically likely events in the life of the historical Jesus. Jesus and his earliest disciples accepted the validity of John's baptism.
Some of the questions raised are “Why would Jesus, who was supposed to be sinless, come for baptism of repentance?” “What was it that happened to Jesus during that moment?”
Some scholars feel that Jesus simply came to be baptised and become one of the followers of John - that in fact he had no idea of going into ministry. His actions certainly raised the issue of his potential submission to John, and we know from early writings that many people thought John *was* the Messiah, and Jesus the false prophet. In Mark, the baptism by John is the setting for the theophany, the revelation of Jesus' divine identity as the Son of God. Matthew shows John objecting to baptizing Jesus, an obvious superior, and only agreeing when overruled by Jesus (Matt 3:14-15) but omits Mark's reference to baptism for the forgiveness of sins. Luke emphasizes the subservience of John to Jesus while both are still in the womb (Luke 1:32-45) and omits the role of John in the baptism of Jesus (Luke 3:18-21). The Gospel of John omits the baptism altogether.
Although we have tended to think of the baptism as Jesus marking the beginning of his ministry - I think it was even more mundane than that. I seriously wonder if Jesus even had that in his mind, or if, in fact he did come as a follower of his cousin John. Clearly Jesus was a spiritual person, a mystic even - and for him the symbolism of shedding his old life and taking on something new, of being purified as he entered this community, probably drew him to John. Maybe he was strongly affected by John’s message about the coming of the realm.
And so he enters the water, and in the process of baptism, coming up out of the water - he has an experience which shakes him to the core - the Holy Spirit is on HIM, and he realises he has been chosen for something. I wonder if that’s why he went off to the desert for 40 days. He had to decide if he really wanted to do this thing or not. Ralph Milton says “Mostly, though, I wonder if Jesus knew what he was in for, when the Spirit of God descended onto him. Was everything revealed to him in a great flash of understanding? Or did he figure it out as he went along?” Well, my feeling is that just like rest of us, revelation happened as he went along. A flash of insight, a feeling of understanding, a recognition of something to come - and then the feeling and the vision is gone.
But I want to come back to the creation story - because I really think that *is* what this is about. Genesis tells us the Spirit moved on the face of the water; the Book of Proverbs tells us that the Spirit, the feminine “ruach”, was present with God at creation, and delighted in all the things God made. The Spirit has been portrayed as a dove.
Mark tells us that Jesus went down into the waters, and as he arose, the Spirit of God - a dove - came down on him. And in that moment, Jesus has an epiphany experience - a deeply spiritual experience in which the universe is opened to him. It is totally unexpected.
It is also a parallel to the creation story - God has done something new and wonderful. God calls us to see its beauty, listen to its sound, acknowledge and follow. In Jesus, in the epiphany moments, in the coming of light and the creation by water and Word - we are baptised into something new. In this new baptism, while water is a sign, we are also baptised by the Spirit - and that is where the true baptism lies. It is the coming of light, insight, commitment to a life in the community of faith, life in a new creation, by the waters of creation and the power of the Spirit. May it be so.
Sources:
1. Ralph Milton, e-newsletter Rumors, January 4, 2009.
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baptism
3. Proverbs 8:29-31
And so the symbols for Epiphany, particularly this Sunday in the Epiphany season, are the liturgical colours white - for light - and green - for creation. And candles symbolise creation, light, life, the Holy Spirit. So does the water.
Ralph Milton, in his weekly comments in the newletter Rumors, says: “Light is far more than simply something to see by. The light of the sun is converted to energy that is stored in plant life and from there in animal life. In fact, life would be impossible without the sun........So the metaphor works.” God provides the light in our world by which we live physically, and God provides light in Jesus, through which we draw our spiritual life.
Baptism and the use of water for purification, or “mikvah” has its roots in Jewish rituals. In the Jewish texts, immersion in water for ritual purification was established for restoration to a condition of "ritual purity" in specific circumstances. I have mentioned purity laws and rituals in other sermons. For example, Jews who (according to the Law of Moses) became ritually defiled by contact with a corpse had to use the “mikvah” before being allowed to participate in the Holy Temple. Immersion is required for those who wish to convert to Judaism. Immersion in the mikvah represents a change in status in regards to purification, restoration, and qualification for full religious participation in the life of the community.
So Jesus came to be baptised by John, a man who preached repentance in the face of God's imminent judgement. John had a large following during the time of Jesus, with many people seeking John's baptismal purification in the River Jordan. Many of the earliest followers of Jesus were other people who were baptized by John. Scholars broadly agree that the baptism of Jesus is one of the most historically likely events in the life of the historical Jesus. Jesus and his earliest disciples accepted the validity of John's baptism.
Some of the questions raised are “Why would Jesus, who was supposed to be sinless, come for baptism of repentance?” “What was it that happened to Jesus during that moment?”
Some scholars feel that Jesus simply came to be baptised and become one of the followers of John - that in fact he had no idea of going into ministry. His actions certainly raised the issue of his potential submission to John, and we know from early writings that many people thought John *was* the Messiah, and Jesus the false prophet. In Mark, the baptism by John is the setting for the theophany, the revelation of Jesus' divine identity as the Son of God. Matthew shows John objecting to baptizing Jesus, an obvious superior, and only agreeing when overruled by Jesus (Matt 3:14-15) but omits Mark's reference to baptism for the forgiveness of sins. Luke emphasizes the subservience of John to Jesus while both are still in the womb (Luke 1:32-45) and omits the role of John in the baptism of Jesus (Luke 3:18-21). The Gospel of John omits the baptism altogether.
Although we have tended to think of the baptism as Jesus marking the beginning of his ministry - I think it was even more mundane than that. I seriously wonder if Jesus even had that in his mind, or if, in fact he did come as a follower of his cousin John. Clearly Jesus was a spiritual person, a mystic even - and for him the symbolism of shedding his old life and taking on something new, of being purified as he entered this community, probably drew him to John. Maybe he was strongly affected by John’s message about the coming of the realm.
And so he enters the water, and in the process of baptism, coming up out of the water - he has an experience which shakes him to the core - the Holy Spirit is on HIM, and he realises he has been chosen for something. I wonder if that’s why he went off to the desert for 40 days. He had to decide if he really wanted to do this thing or not. Ralph Milton says “Mostly, though, I wonder if Jesus knew what he was in for, when the Spirit of God descended onto him. Was everything revealed to him in a great flash of understanding? Or did he figure it out as he went along?” Well, my feeling is that just like rest of us, revelation happened as he went along. A flash of insight, a feeling of understanding, a recognition of something to come - and then the feeling and the vision is gone.
But I want to come back to the creation story - because I really think that *is* what this is about. Genesis tells us the Spirit moved on the face of the water; the Book of Proverbs tells us that the Spirit, the feminine “ruach”, was present with God at creation, and delighted in all the things God made. The Spirit has been portrayed as a dove.
Mark tells us that Jesus went down into the waters, and as he arose, the Spirit of God - a dove - came down on him. And in that moment, Jesus has an epiphany experience - a deeply spiritual experience in which the universe is opened to him. It is totally unexpected.
It is also a parallel to the creation story - God has done something new and wonderful. God calls us to see its beauty, listen to its sound, acknowledge and follow. In Jesus, in the epiphany moments, in the coming of light and the creation by water and Word - we are baptised into something new. In this new baptism, while water is a sign, we are also baptised by the Spirit - and that is where the true baptism lies. It is the coming of light, insight, commitment to a life in the community of faith, life in a new creation, by the waters of creation and the power of the Spirit. May it be so.
Sources:
1. Ralph Milton, e-newsletter Rumors, January 4, 2009.
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baptism
3. Proverbs 8:29-31
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Journeys Matthew 2:1-12 Epiphany Sunday January 4, 2009
Last week, a friend sent me a quote from a sermon by the Rev. Jody Seymour at Davidson United Methodist Church in North Carolina. She says:
“People who journey without being changed are nomads. People who change without going on a journey are chameleons. People who go on a journey and are changed by the journey are pilgrims.”
We have a hymn, in our hymnbook, called “Sister Let Me Be Your Servant”. Its original title was “We are Pilgrims on a Journey” - and it goes “We are pilgrims on a journey, fellow travellers on the road. We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load.”
Every year, we celebrate Epiphany on the Sunday closest to the actual day of January 6. Every year, the lectionary brings us the Magi. Every year we take all the elements of three years’ worth of biblical story and scrunch it down into roughly six weeks - four of Advent, one for Christmas, and one for Epiphany. We tend to forget that this was a story played out over several years, and with many layers of meaning.
The Greek historian Herodotus cites the Magi as Medeans living in Persia, which at the time of Jesus’ birth was part of the Parthian Empire. They were scientists, priests, astrologers, and existed for around five thousand years; they were almost certainly Zoroastrians. They were not just 'wise men,' but an entire social class of priests and sages.
“They were the center of spiritual-political authority through the ages of several great empires. They interpreted dreams and were responsible for sacred rituals, including animal sacrifices. The Magi may have even been responsible for crowning any new ruler who came to power. If true, then to be crowned without the favor of the Magi would jeopardize the legitimacy of any king.
The Magi believed that the stars could be used to predict the birth of great rulers. They believed that the next great ruler was about to be born: the "king of the Jews." But even so, why visit the newborn king of a foreign nation? It is not implausible to assume that the main intention of the Magi was diplomatic in origin. If a new king had been born, it would prove useful to pay tribute to him and his family. They may have assumed that Herod, the ruler of Judea and Palestine, had produced a son, an heir to his seat of power, who would exceed his father's legacy by leaps and bounds. Rome and Parthia were the two "superpowers" of the era, and Palestine was a significant part of the political view.”
Well, what did they find in Jerusalem? Herod had syphilis, was paranoid and almost dead. There was a laundry list of people happy to take his place, and help him along to the next world if need be. He had killed his previous wife and several sons out of suspicion that they were trying to kill him. He knew the new king was not one of his offspring. So he consulted with advisors, found out about the prophecy, and determined to find this usurper to his power.
After a journey of about 1300 miles into a foreign country, the Magi found Mary, Joseph and the child who was approximately two. What went through the minds of these aristocrats as they met this peasant couple of a different race and religion? The gifts they brought imply a legitimising of the rule of this king. They were not Jewish. They were foreigners, Gentiles, considered pagan. If you look closely at your Christmas cards, you might see that tradition has one of them African, one Asian, and one Caucasian. Nowhere in the text does it say there were three - there could have been more.
Here’s a modern tale, from a blog by David Barker at West Hill United Church - and I believe it relates very much to this story and its interpretation. “This Christmas, more than usual, people have been crying foul over issues of political correctness. The most notable instance of this arose around the decision by Seattle's Sea–Tac International Airport authority to remove from its premises all Christmas trees and related paraphernalia. .... A rabbi had petitioned the airport for inclusion of a menorah amongst the decorations. After consulting with its lawyers (naturally), it concluded that it would be simpler to remove all decorations than be sensitive to the existence of other faith traditions and their ways of celebrating. Seattle residents are angry.”
David goes on to ask these questions: “What if the Messianic announcement and the Jesus birth were calls, not to a new believing, but to a new doing? What if that nativity was a grand act of ecumenism, summoning the faithful of every faith whatever the faith - like the Zoroastrian magi - to engage one another as fellow travelers on a spiritual pilgrimage? What if that is the Christmas message?”
Magi, rich and influential Zoroastrian priests, scholars and astrologers - made a pilgrimage to a town in a country more than a thousand miles from their home. They saw a convergence of celestial phenomena which they believed heralded the birth of a new king, perhaps even a new kind of king. They travelled an incredible distance, even by today’s reckonings, found the one they were seeking, and when they did presented incredibly expensive and significant gifts, and according to Matthew, worshipped the baby. They were not of the same faith as Jesus’ family, yet somehow what they found transcended any individual faith. The star, or the light, signifies to me God’s transcendence over even religion.
I believe something happened to the Magi in that pilgrimage. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could not return the same way they came, that in fact there was no return. They were true pilgrims, because they were willing to set out on a long, long journey without knowing if they would even live. They found what they were seeking, and they went away changed by their entire experience. I am sure Mary and Joseph were changed by the encounter as well. In the story, Joseph and Mary did not turn away these “pagans”, or refuse to have anything to do with them because they were Gentiles. They did, apparently, welcome the visitors and accept the gifts.
So who are we, today? Who are the Magi today, who come seeking? Do we want them to be like us? Are we true pilgrims, willing to be changed by what we experience? Are we willing to set out on the road with them, looking for something we only think is happening? Are we pilgrims, nomads, or chameleons?
If the answer is pilgrims on a journey, then we are on this journey with all peoples of all faiths - and we owe it to those others, and to God, to have respect for the many ways God is revealed in the world. Our religion should not become our God, but rather it should be the means by which we find our God revealed in humanity. May it be so.
Sources
1. www.magijourney.com
2. http://nouspique.com/component/content/article/52/248-the-magi-today
3. Dr. Jody Seymour, Davdison United Methodist Church, North Carolina.
“People who journey without being changed are nomads. People who change without going on a journey are chameleons. People who go on a journey and are changed by the journey are pilgrims.”
We have a hymn, in our hymnbook, called “Sister Let Me Be Your Servant”. Its original title was “We are Pilgrims on a Journey” - and it goes “We are pilgrims on a journey, fellow travellers on the road. We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load.”
Every year, we celebrate Epiphany on the Sunday closest to the actual day of January 6. Every year, the lectionary brings us the Magi. Every year we take all the elements of three years’ worth of biblical story and scrunch it down into roughly six weeks - four of Advent, one for Christmas, and one for Epiphany. We tend to forget that this was a story played out over several years, and with many layers of meaning.
The Greek historian Herodotus cites the Magi as Medeans living in Persia, which at the time of Jesus’ birth was part of the Parthian Empire. They were scientists, priests, astrologers, and existed for around five thousand years; they were almost certainly Zoroastrians. They were not just 'wise men,' but an entire social class of priests and sages.
“They were the center of spiritual-political authority through the ages of several great empires. They interpreted dreams and were responsible for sacred rituals, including animal sacrifices. The Magi may have even been responsible for crowning any new ruler who came to power. If true, then to be crowned without the favor of the Magi would jeopardize the legitimacy of any king.
The Magi believed that the stars could be used to predict the birth of great rulers. They believed that the next great ruler was about to be born: the "king of the Jews." But even so, why visit the newborn king of a foreign nation? It is not implausible to assume that the main intention of the Magi was diplomatic in origin. If a new king had been born, it would prove useful to pay tribute to him and his family. They may have assumed that Herod, the ruler of Judea and Palestine, had produced a son, an heir to his seat of power, who would exceed his father's legacy by leaps and bounds. Rome and Parthia were the two "superpowers" of the era, and Palestine was a significant part of the political view.”
Well, what did they find in Jerusalem? Herod had syphilis, was paranoid and almost dead. There was a laundry list of people happy to take his place, and help him along to the next world if need be. He had killed his previous wife and several sons out of suspicion that they were trying to kill him. He knew the new king was not one of his offspring. So he consulted with advisors, found out about the prophecy, and determined to find this usurper to his power.
After a journey of about 1300 miles into a foreign country, the Magi found Mary, Joseph and the child who was approximately two. What went through the minds of these aristocrats as they met this peasant couple of a different race and religion? The gifts they brought imply a legitimising of the rule of this king. They were not Jewish. They were foreigners, Gentiles, considered pagan. If you look closely at your Christmas cards, you might see that tradition has one of them African, one Asian, and one Caucasian. Nowhere in the text does it say there were three - there could have been more.
Here’s a modern tale, from a blog by David Barker at West Hill United Church - and I believe it relates very much to this story and its interpretation. “This Christmas, more than usual, people have been crying foul over issues of political correctness. The most notable instance of this arose around the decision by Seattle's Sea–Tac International Airport authority to remove from its premises all Christmas trees and related paraphernalia. .... A rabbi had petitioned the airport for inclusion of a menorah amongst the decorations. After consulting with its lawyers (naturally), it concluded that it would be simpler to remove all decorations than be sensitive to the existence of other faith traditions and their ways of celebrating. Seattle residents are angry.”
David goes on to ask these questions: “What if the Messianic announcement and the Jesus birth were calls, not to a new believing, but to a new doing? What if that nativity was a grand act of ecumenism, summoning the faithful of every faith whatever the faith - like the Zoroastrian magi - to engage one another as fellow travelers on a spiritual pilgrimage? What if that is the Christmas message?”
Magi, rich and influential Zoroastrian priests, scholars and astrologers - made a pilgrimage to a town in a country more than a thousand miles from their home. They saw a convergence of celestial phenomena which they believed heralded the birth of a new king, perhaps even a new kind of king. They travelled an incredible distance, even by today’s reckonings, found the one they were seeking, and when they did presented incredibly expensive and significant gifts, and according to Matthew, worshipped the baby. They were not of the same faith as Jesus’ family, yet somehow what they found transcended any individual faith. The star, or the light, signifies to me God’s transcendence over even religion.
I believe something happened to the Magi in that pilgrimage. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could not return the same way they came, that in fact there was no return. They were true pilgrims, because they were willing to set out on a long, long journey without knowing if they would even live. They found what they were seeking, and they went away changed by their entire experience. I am sure Mary and Joseph were changed by the encounter as well. In the story, Joseph and Mary did not turn away these “pagans”, or refuse to have anything to do with them because they were Gentiles. They did, apparently, welcome the visitors and accept the gifts.
So who are we, today? Who are the Magi today, who come seeking? Do we want them to be like us? Are we true pilgrims, willing to be changed by what we experience? Are we willing to set out on the road with them, looking for something we only think is happening? Are we pilgrims, nomads, or chameleons?
If the answer is pilgrims on a journey, then we are on this journey with all peoples of all faiths - and we owe it to those others, and to God, to have respect for the many ways God is revealed in the world. Our religion should not become our God, but rather it should be the means by which we find our God revealed in humanity. May it be so.
Sources
1. www.magijourney.com
2. http://nouspique.com/component/content/article/52/248-the-magi-today
3. Dr. Jody Seymour, Davdison United Methodist Church, North Carolina.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)