More than any other Gospel, John presents us with “hard sayings” of Jesus to wrap our heads around. Today’s reading is one of the hardest, for on first read it is offensive. It is not only somewhat offensive to us, it would have been really shocking to Jewish listeners. Even the image is disturbing - eating flesh and drinking blood; as a result, many preachers have turned this into yet another text about eucharist or communion, thereby making it palatable. Others have just not tried to preach it - because it is a really hard text.
In the time of Jesus, it was pagans who ate flesh with the blood still in it. Hence Jewish hearers would have been shocked to hear Jesus even utter these words. The church in Corinth got itself into all kinds of knots over whether or not to eat meat which had been killed in a pagan temple. The suggestion of eating flesh with the blood still in it would have been repugnant to the Jews altogether. How could Jesus suggest such a thing?
Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr places this text at a period of Jesus’ ministry usually designated as “the crisis”. Jesus had been popular. The multitude had followed him to listen, to catch the charm of his personality and to be cured of physical ills. “But gradually”, says Niebuhr, “as Jesus unfolded the full meaning of his way of life, the multitude found his ideals as difficult as they were engaging and began to desert him, muttering, "These are hard sayings, who can hear them?" Only the twelve disciples stayed, in the end, along with some of the women and others, although John specifically names the twelve. Jesus asked, did they also wish to leave him? Peter, always the spokesman for the rest, answers “Where shall we go?” Niebuhr interpets this to mean that Peter is saying, "Yes, what you ask of us is so difficult that we are tempted to give up too. We don’t know if we can follow your way and truth, but we can’t find a better alternative.”
Is Jesus offering immortality in this quote? We have tended to take the phrase “eternal life” to mean immortality. I don’t think that is at all what is inherent here. This is another example of Jesus trying to communicate a difficult concept using ordinary things of life- bread, wine, meat, water - to teach about a way of living which saves us from being ruled by fear. Jesus reminds them that it is the spirit which gives life, and that his words are both spirit and life. Yet they choose to turn away because it is “too hard”.
The crowds had got used to the comfort of being around Jesus, and were prepared to take some small challenge to their discipleship. There was comfort in the affirmations of Jesus’ faith, and they were to some extent willing to accept them; but Niebuhr comments that “inextricably intertwined with that assurance is a moral challenge” which most people find too difficult to consider. He says that the Christian church, at its best, is a community of the few who have seen, however dimly, “that the assurance and the challenge belong together”. The teaching of Jesus presents both a way of looking at reality, and a way of living.
In the past weeks, as President Barack Obama has begun to lay out the foundations of a health-care plan, arguments for and against have been all over the news. People have considered resorting to violence, extreme responses to the proposal - accusing Obama of being Hitler - have appeared, along with accusations of fascism and socialist medicine, as if somehow socialist is a bad thing. An American colleague of mine noted “how easily scaremongering can prod Americans to act against their own best interests.” I’ve found the comments of people fascinating - people who claim America is a country founded on Christian principles, yet who scream at the notion of paying for someone else’s health care as un-constitutional, too difficult, if people want good health care they are “free to pursue it”, but others should not have to shoulder it for them.
Rev. Amy C. Howe says this: “Our culture tells us we are in control of our lives, our destiny. If we work hard, we will be rewarded with material gain.” She goes on “My theologian sister says that we prefer religion to God. We, like the disciples, are offended by Jesus’ offer of spirit and life. We make religion about the rules because we can control the rules.”
Well, the words Jesus uses “abide in me” present comfort, but they also present challenge. A handful of followers remains, and when Jesus asks if they also want to run away, Peter responds “Where else can we go? You have words of life. We have come to believe.” In that moment, Peter who is generally a little thick, realises that despite the hard path Jesus calls the followers to walk, he is ready to give up some control in order to accept the offer of the gift of life.
The gift of life for the church is the moment we realise that giving up control gives life. It may not be the life we envision out of our own experience, or how we have always done things in our church. It may be that the creative spirit moves into that space created by our willingness to let go control, and does something completely unexpected. The decision of the followers not to walk away but to follow and give up control marks them as a community of faith. Nothing else - not budgets, mission statements, worship attendance - mark us as a community of faith. Coming together to follow Jesus, no matter how hard it is, no matter how contrary to our political notions - that marks us as a community of faith - and in Jesus we receive spirit and life. May it be so.
Sources:
1. Reinhold Niebuhr, “To Whom Can I go?” in The Christian Century, March 10, 1927.
2. Rev. Amy C. Howe, essay in “Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary” Year B Volume 3.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wisdom Calls Proverbs 9:1-6, Ephesians 5:15-20 August 16, 2009
“Wisdom has built her house, she has cut the seven pillars. She has slaughtered the animals, she has mixed the wine, she has also set her table. She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places around the town “You that are poor, come in here! To those with no sense she says “Come, eat my bread, drink my wine. Lay aside immaturity, and live and walk in the way of insight.”
Since Proverbs wasn’t listed in the bulletin as one of today’s readings, you probably wonder why I decided to throw this in. Hmmm, well - Ephesians talks about living wisely - but in a boring and constrained sort of way. The Ephesians passage, on the surface, probably has been one of those used to convince Christians that anything which smacked of having fun was a no-no. The John passage is another of Jesus’ references to the bread of life, and it’s the third or fourth this month. Proverbs doesn’t usually get preached - but in fact, it reminded me of the parable of the banquet in the Gospels.
Back in the fall, Norio and I received a call, late on a Saturday afternoon, from friends in the west end. Would we like to come and join them in the local street festival, and then go for some dinner? It meant putting aside everything, leaving a sermon half-finished, in order to join them. It would have been easy to say no, I have too much to do, Saturday nights aren’t good. That’s what I usually say to invitations for Saturdays. But we hadn’t seen our friends for a long time, and the evening sounded like it would be fun. So we went. All the way there, I kept wondering if it would have been better to refuse, to spend more time on the sermon, to beg off. Was it a wise thing to do? I don't know - but had I not gone it would have been a missed opportunity for something important.
The Book of Proverbs is a collection of sayings, speeches, lectures which were accumulated over time. They were shaped by the wise leaders in the court, and the temple of Israel an early Judaism. Wisdom is personified as a woman, the spirit which was beside God at the beginning of creation, the feminine principle, the breath of God.
In the time of Jesus, there was a group of religious ascetics called Gnostics. In general to be a gnostic means to make a claim to an esoteric knowledge that no-one else has. If you wander into Chapters, you can find a self-help book purporting to be knowledge no one else has. It is a kind of modern-day gnosticism, in that each of the self-help gurus purports to have a knowledge no one else has. To the ancient Gnostics, wisdom was something they had access to because of their esoteric knowledge. Ordinary people didn’t.
In this selection from Proverbs, Wisdom prepares a banquet and goes into the town calling to the poor and the simple to come to the table. I think this is the important part, and draws the parallel to the Gospel. Virtually everything Jesus taught had its roots in Hebrew scripture, and he would likely have been familiar with this passage, so to tell the banquet story would draw on this scripture. In fact it is totally contrary to both the Gnostic understanding of wisdom, and the temple understanding. The passage from Proverbs is telling us that wisdom is a free and fabulous banquet, equally generous to all. The table is set, and the banquet is there.
The Proverbs text gives us a great feast set in the house of Wisdom. The slaughtering of animals for the feast is directly connected to the traditions of Israel. Wine is “mixed”, perhaps a product of different fruits, maybe the fruits of the spirit. Everyone is invited to come. Wisdom offers a pattern for living.
There is a pretty clear message in this passage. Each of us is given the opportunity to live a blessed and fulfilled life. It says that it is God’s intent for the human race. Here, in this passage, Lady Wisdom offers wine and a banquet for enjoying. It is reminiscent of the story of the wedding at Cana, when Jesus’ mother is portrayed as a wise woman - in some ways wiser than Jesus.
There is another message in this passage. Too often we do make excuses for not participating in the banquet. For the gathered church community, it says to us that we have to ask if we live out a mature faith, if we are answering the call fully, what kind of future do we envision and what choices will we make. As we come to the end of summer, it is a kind of fallow period where we can do some reflection and assessment, as individuals and as congregations. Miriam Therese Winter wrote a song “I Cannot Come”. It refers to the wedding banquet story, but I think it fits here too.
I CANNOT COME.
A certain man held a feast on his fine estate in town,
he laid a festive table and wore a wedding gown.
He sent invitations to his neighbours far and wide.
But when the meal was ready, each of them replied:
I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, don't trouble me now
I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow,
I have fields and commitments that cost a pretty sum
Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come!
So, my question to you today is, what are we going to do as we go forward into the next church year?
Sources:
1. Material from essays by Thomas R. Steagald, and Susan Vande Kappelle in the book “Feasting on the Word”, Year B Volume 3. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds.
2. The Wedding Banquet, by Miriam Therese Winter. In the collection “Joy is Like the Rain”. C. Medical Mission Sisters 1966.
Since Proverbs wasn’t listed in the bulletin as one of today’s readings, you probably wonder why I decided to throw this in. Hmmm, well - Ephesians talks about living wisely - but in a boring and constrained sort of way. The Ephesians passage, on the surface, probably has been one of those used to convince Christians that anything which smacked of having fun was a no-no. The John passage is another of Jesus’ references to the bread of life, and it’s the third or fourth this month. Proverbs doesn’t usually get preached - but in fact, it reminded me of the parable of the banquet in the Gospels.
Back in the fall, Norio and I received a call, late on a Saturday afternoon, from friends in the west end. Would we like to come and join them in the local street festival, and then go for some dinner? It meant putting aside everything, leaving a sermon half-finished, in order to join them. It would have been easy to say no, I have too much to do, Saturday nights aren’t good. That’s what I usually say to invitations for Saturdays. But we hadn’t seen our friends for a long time, and the evening sounded like it would be fun. So we went. All the way there, I kept wondering if it would have been better to refuse, to spend more time on the sermon, to beg off. Was it a wise thing to do? I don't know - but had I not gone it would have been a missed opportunity for something important.
The Book of Proverbs is a collection of sayings, speeches, lectures which were accumulated over time. They were shaped by the wise leaders in the court, and the temple of Israel an early Judaism. Wisdom is personified as a woman, the spirit which was beside God at the beginning of creation, the feminine principle, the breath of God.
In the time of Jesus, there was a group of religious ascetics called Gnostics. In general to be a gnostic means to make a claim to an esoteric knowledge that no-one else has. If you wander into Chapters, you can find a self-help book purporting to be knowledge no one else has. It is a kind of modern-day gnosticism, in that each of the self-help gurus purports to have a knowledge no one else has. To the ancient Gnostics, wisdom was something they had access to because of their esoteric knowledge. Ordinary people didn’t.
In this selection from Proverbs, Wisdom prepares a banquet and goes into the town calling to the poor and the simple to come to the table. I think this is the important part, and draws the parallel to the Gospel. Virtually everything Jesus taught had its roots in Hebrew scripture, and he would likely have been familiar with this passage, so to tell the banquet story would draw on this scripture. In fact it is totally contrary to both the Gnostic understanding of wisdom, and the temple understanding. The passage from Proverbs is telling us that wisdom is a free and fabulous banquet, equally generous to all. The table is set, and the banquet is there.
The Proverbs text gives us a great feast set in the house of Wisdom. The slaughtering of animals for the feast is directly connected to the traditions of Israel. Wine is “mixed”, perhaps a product of different fruits, maybe the fruits of the spirit. Everyone is invited to come. Wisdom offers a pattern for living.
There is a pretty clear message in this passage. Each of us is given the opportunity to live a blessed and fulfilled life. It says that it is God’s intent for the human race. Here, in this passage, Lady Wisdom offers wine and a banquet for enjoying. It is reminiscent of the story of the wedding at Cana, when Jesus’ mother is portrayed as a wise woman - in some ways wiser than Jesus.
There is another message in this passage. Too often we do make excuses for not participating in the banquet. For the gathered church community, it says to us that we have to ask if we live out a mature faith, if we are answering the call fully, what kind of future do we envision and what choices will we make. As we come to the end of summer, it is a kind of fallow period where we can do some reflection and assessment, as individuals and as congregations. Miriam Therese Winter wrote a song “I Cannot Come”. It refers to the wedding banquet story, but I think it fits here too.
I CANNOT COME.
A certain man held a feast on his fine estate in town,
he laid a festive table and wore a wedding gown.
He sent invitations to his neighbours far and wide.
But when the meal was ready, each of them replied:
I cannot come, I cannot come to the banquet, don't trouble me now
I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow,
I have fields and commitments that cost a pretty sum
Pray, hold me excused, I cannot come!
So, my question to you today is, what are we going to do as we go forward into the next church year?
Sources:
1. Material from essays by Thomas R. Steagald, and Susan Vande Kappelle in the book “Feasting on the Word”, Year B Volume 3. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds.
2. The Wedding Banquet, by Miriam Therese Winter. In the collection “Joy is Like the Rain”. C. Medical Mission Sisters 1966.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Bread and Water August 2, 2009 Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15, John 6:24-35
Let me introduce you to Louise and Phil Decker. Louise and Phil are the caretakers of the Gros Morne National Park campgrounds in Newfoundland. Every morning, Louise is up at 6, and goes to every campground and rest area to clean the washrooms. Phil goes around and empties all the garbage cans. Then they both sit down and sort the garbage, taking out things people toss like batteries, and separating out the recycling. Phil is a retired fisherman, who still goes back to sea on a seasonal basis, and brings in enough for them to eat over the winter. Louise, of her own volition, has begun teaching a course to children in the campgrounds, about the native plants and animals of Newfoundland, the lives of those who fish for a living, and teaches the kids how to make certain kinds of local food. In the early spring, Louise cleans every camp site, making sure the fire pits are cleared, cutting the weeds down, sanding and painting the picnic tables. The day we sat with them, Louise had just finished a class with 39 kids. They own a tiny house, really a hut, on the property at Broom Point. Parks Canada wants to make the whole point a historical site, so they offered to buy Louise and Phil’s property, for $3000 - and told them they could move the house off if they wished.
Let me tell you a little about the house. Like many people, this house has been in the family for several generations. It was not originally a year-round living accommodation, but was there for families to live in during the fishing season. Fishing families would come to the point every year, when their fishing permits allowed, in order to work. They processed, dried, and canned the fish right on the premises. The salt fish, and the canned salmon, was picked up by larger boats which took it to market. This year, Phil and Louise made 50c a pound on their lobster catch. Next time you buy lobster in the supermarket, look at the price.
Norio and I sat with them in our campsite this July, over a glass of wine, and talked about life in Newfoundland. Needless to say we were impressed with the passion and the optimism of these two people.
Louise is a tiny woman, but don’t be fooled. She is a formidable presence, and passionate about her life. Get her talking about how the Canadian government is killing off the fisheries - and the lives of many people - by selling out to large corporations. Louise is smart, savvy, and hard-working. So is Phil. They love life, and despite their criticisms of the way things are done, and what is done to them, they have a solid faith that what they DO have is given to them, by God, to use well. They don’t have much, but if you asked them I am guessing they would say they have enough.
I am telling this story because Louise and Phil epitomise for me what it means to be on a life journey. There have been times when these two were in a wilderness. Yet they survived, and grew, even if all they had was bread and water.
In todays first reading, we meet the Israelites, newly freed, and looking forward to going to the land they have been promised. In the first throes of real freedom, they were happy to be anywhere but Egypt, and they sang and danced their joy! Then, of course, as the days went on reality set in. The small stocks of food they had brought along were gone, and there was little if anything to eat in the wilderness. There was no wildlife, no large body of water, no edible plant life. The people became hungry and thirsty; the manna they were receiving didn’t last long, and water from a rock was hardly sufficient. Bread, and water: that was their diet in the wilderness. It began to feel like they were in prison again.
Eventually, of course, they complained about what God had provided, and complained against
Moses. They wanted to go back to Egypt, where they were slaves but had good food. God set them free from one kind of oppression just to kill them off in the desert? If they were going to die anyway, better to do it back in Egypt where at least they could do it in relative comfort. They wanted more: more food, more water, more variety in their diet. More.
They sound like us, don’t they? Like those ancient Israelites, we want /more. /We want more variety, more choices. So we can now order our fish deep-fried, broiled, baked, grilled, or blackened. We want to be able to eat all kinds of foods whenever we want it.
Norio and I have an ongoing discussion - I won’t call it argument - about food when he is in Cuba. After five weeks, he doesn’t want to eat rice and peas any more. He can’t find Japanese noodles. There is some variety in the food but not what he gets here in Toronto, where we can eat anything we want any time. My comment is that the Cubans have to eat that every day.
And that is where Louise and Phil come in. They don’t have the luxury of Japanese or Chinese or Korean or Thai or Greek or Italian, or whatever. Their diet is mainly fish; given all the wild berries we picked around the island, and the people we met picking them, that probably they get a lot of their fruit that way. And yet they are satisfied, and they are happy people.
John’s Gospel this week begins with the story of the feeding of a large crowd of people with five loaves of barley bread and two fish. The crowd is dazzled! They want him Jesus to feed them anytime, anywhere, as much as they want. But Jesus eludes them, refusing to be known simply as the one who gives them all they want on demand.
Yes, I can offer you bread, he says, but what you are looking for is bread and water to satisfy your soul as well as your body. God gives true bread, the bread of life. In me you see God, and you see the bread and water which will satisfy.
It’s no accident that bread and grains are at the top of the food pyramid; they provide
great nourishment. Bread of the right kind can be packed and carried on long treks. We need bread, and we need water, to be well and healthy.
We are invited in these stories to trust in the God who feeds us what we need to live, and calls us to gratitude for life. When we eat the bread of life, when we drink the living water God offers, we can thrive, and be satisfied. That’s why Louise and Phil impressed me so much. From our point of view, they probably have nothing. Life is a struggle, every single day, to make enough to live on. And yet, they are satisfied, and they have enough. Bread, water, and fish - the three things Jesus used to demonstrate what really matters in life. May it be so.
Acknowledgements:
1. Louise and Phil Decker, Gros Morne National Park
2. Material from the sermon “Thriving on Bread and Water” by Randy Thompson.
Let me tell you a little about the house. Like many people, this house has been in the family for several generations. It was not originally a year-round living accommodation, but was there for families to live in during the fishing season. Fishing families would come to the point every year, when their fishing permits allowed, in order to work. They processed, dried, and canned the fish right on the premises. The salt fish, and the canned salmon, was picked up by larger boats which took it to market. This year, Phil and Louise made 50c a pound on their lobster catch. Next time you buy lobster in the supermarket, look at the price.
Norio and I sat with them in our campsite this July, over a glass of wine, and talked about life in Newfoundland. Needless to say we were impressed with the passion and the optimism of these two people.
Louise is a tiny woman, but don’t be fooled. She is a formidable presence, and passionate about her life. Get her talking about how the Canadian government is killing off the fisheries - and the lives of many people - by selling out to large corporations. Louise is smart, savvy, and hard-working. So is Phil. They love life, and despite their criticisms of the way things are done, and what is done to them, they have a solid faith that what they DO have is given to them, by God, to use well. They don’t have much, but if you asked them I am guessing they would say they have enough.
I am telling this story because Louise and Phil epitomise for me what it means to be on a life journey. There have been times when these two were in a wilderness. Yet they survived, and grew, even if all they had was bread and water.
In todays first reading, we meet the Israelites, newly freed, and looking forward to going to the land they have been promised. In the first throes of real freedom, they were happy to be anywhere but Egypt, and they sang and danced their joy! Then, of course, as the days went on reality set in. The small stocks of food they had brought along were gone, and there was little if anything to eat in the wilderness. There was no wildlife, no large body of water, no edible plant life. The people became hungry and thirsty; the manna they were receiving didn’t last long, and water from a rock was hardly sufficient. Bread, and water: that was their diet in the wilderness. It began to feel like they were in prison again.
Eventually, of course, they complained about what God had provided, and complained against
Moses. They wanted to go back to Egypt, where they were slaves but had good food. God set them free from one kind of oppression just to kill them off in the desert? If they were going to die anyway, better to do it back in Egypt where at least they could do it in relative comfort. They wanted more: more food, more water, more variety in their diet. More.
They sound like us, don’t they? Like those ancient Israelites, we want /more. /We want more variety, more choices. So we can now order our fish deep-fried, broiled, baked, grilled, or blackened. We want to be able to eat all kinds of foods whenever we want it.
Norio and I have an ongoing discussion - I won’t call it argument - about food when he is in Cuba. After five weeks, he doesn’t want to eat rice and peas any more. He can’t find Japanese noodles. There is some variety in the food but not what he gets here in Toronto, where we can eat anything we want any time. My comment is that the Cubans have to eat that every day.
And that is where Louise and Phil come in. They don’t have the luxury of Japanese or Chinese or Korean or Thai or Greek or Italian, or whatever. Their diet is mainly fish; given all the wild berries we picked around the island, and the people we met picking them, that probably they get a lot of their fruit that way. And yet they are satisfied, and they are happy people.
John’s Gospel this week begins with the story of the feeding of a large crowd of people with five loaves of barley bread and two fish. The crowd is dazzled! They want him Jesus to feed them anytime, anywhere, as much as they want. But Jesus eludes them, refusing to be known simply as the one who gives them all they want on demand.
Yes, I can offer you bread, he says, but what you are looking for is bread and water to satisfy your soul as well as your body. God gives true bread, the bread of life. In me you see God, and you see the bread and water which will satisfy.
It’s no accident that bread and grains are at the top of the food pyramid; they provide
great nourishment. Bread of the right kind can be packed and carried on long treks. We need bread, and we need water, to be well and healthy.
We are invited in these stories to trust in the God who feeds us what we need to live, and calls us to gratitude for life. When we eat the bread of life, when we drink the living water God offers, we can thrive, and be satisfied. That’s why Louise and Phil impressed me so much. From our point of view, they probably have nothing. Life is a struggle, every single day, to make enough to live on. And yet, they are satisfied, and they have enough. Bread, water, and fish - the three things Jesus used to demonstrate what really matters in life. May it be so.
Acknowledgements:
1. Louise and Phil Decker, Gros Morne National Park
2. Material from the sermon “Thriving on Bread and Water” by Randy Thompson.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Waking a Sleeping Jesus Mark 4:35-41
The legend lives on from the Chippewa down,
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed when the "Gales of November" came early.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.
Some of the words of Gordon Lightfoot’s famous song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. (1) In November 1975 the ore carrier Edmund Fitzgerald sank during a gale on Lake Superior, with all 29 crew on board. There were no clues to why the ship sank, and no distress calls recorded. It was the worst loss in Great Lakes shipping history.
Lake Erie is the shallowest of the Great Lakes, at a depth of just 200 feet. It is easily stirred up by west winds to produce violent waves and even the largest boats are put at risk.
“Ships caught on the Great Lakes during such fierce storms can be tossed like toys in the fury of wind and wave. As early as 1835, a November storm "swept the lakes clear of sail." In 1847, a major storm claimed 77 ships on the Great Lakes. Ten years later, 65 vessels went down as a storm crossed the Lakes. A gale on Lake Superior in 1905 wrecked 111 ships and sent 14 steel carriers ashore. In 1958 and 1975, powerful storms also caused shipwrecks and damage over the Great Lakes.” (2)
Jesus' disciples were not ocean-faring sailors, not even sailors on the Great Lakes, but they were experienced fishermen. They had been through storms before. But the story in Mark says “ A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped.” Luke describes the wind and raging waves during this storm. Matthew calls it a furious storm without warning. Perhaps this was something they had never seen before.
I did a little reading on storms on the Sea of Galilee, which is really a lake. The storms are a result of different temperatures between the seacoast and the mountains. The Sea of Galilee lies 680 feet below sea level. It is bounded by hills, especially on the east side where they reach 2000 feet high. These heights are a source of cool, dry air. In contrast, directly around the sea, the climate is semi-tropical with warm, moist air. The large difference in height between surrounding land and the sea causes large temperature and pressure changes. This results in strong winds dropping to the sea, funnelling through the hills. The Sea of Galilee is small, and these winds may descend directly to the center of the lake with violent results. When the contrasting air masses meet, a storm can arise quickly and without warning. Small boats caught out on the sea are in immediate danger. The Sea of Galilee is relatively shallow, just 200 feet at its greatest depth. A shallow lake is “whipped up” by wind more rapidly than deep water, where energy is more readily absorbed. (3)
So there they are, out on the Sea of Galilee, in a boat, at night. Now, this isn’t strange at all. There are other incidents where we are told they are fishing at night. In Japan, and probably elsewhere, the squid boats go out at night and long after dark there are little lights bobbing up and down on the water. Mark’s narrative also tells us there are other boats with them. Jesus has asked them to go right across the lake to the other side. As they sail, he is snoozing gently in the hold when the storm comes up. He seems to be completely oblivious to the raging wind and waves, and the fear around him. When they finally waken him, he is cranky with them. He asks if they have no faith.
Well, what would be your reaction? Wouldn’t you be flashing around bailing like crazy, trying to get the sails in, if they were up? If a wave is taller than a boat is long, the boat is going to go down. Maybe they were not of such "little faith" as all that. Maybe they were frantically using all their skills and couldn't believe that Jesus didn't wake up, and maybe they thought if he was sleeping through it, he was going to let the storm overtake them and swamp the boat. Maybe they thought he should get off his holy backside, and row. Maybe they were no more afraid than they ever were at such moments - maybe it was an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, and they expected Jesus to pitch in, not nap while they were doing everything. As for the other boats, presumably they were also dealing with the storm -- so if they had sunk, there would not be much help for a rescue there.
Gordon Lightfoot’s song says “Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” I wonder. In the storm they experienced, the minutes became hours. Jesus had asked them to go all the way to the other side, something they normally didn’t do. There they were in the middle of something bigger than their experience, and Jesus appeared to be asleep.
Is this a story of trusting Jesus in the usual storms of our personal lives, or is Mark here talking about storms that are particular to those who follow Jesus on a journey to an unknown place -- struggling against injustice, confronting evil, crossing boundaries and borders to seek healing, reaching out to the rejected of society, embarking on new ways of being in a confusing world where nothing is the way it was?
Rev. Jane Baker says “My congregation is in the midst of changes within itself, within the community, and our annual conference. Our responses to these changes we face as a result of the Spirit's leading is how we respond to the chaos and storms change always brings about. Not only that, it is a story about how we trust the Spirit's leading.”
I think this passage has long been used for personal reasons, not that there is anything wrong with this, but the interpretation doesn't get to the idea of the church itself and what may occur as we follow Jesus. I do see it about the church and its faith and trust, with Jesus in the boat with us.
“Does anyone know where the love of God goes.....?” In the real seafaring world, even when the ship goes down with all hands, God’s love is there - weeping into the storm. In the parable storms, which are meant to teach us about living in an emergent church - which are meant to teach us about sailing through unknown experiences - the love of God is there. With trust that God is there with us, and that with that presence we too have the power to still the waves and the winds, and get to the other side.
The great American preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick, was a Baptist minister who went on to the inter-denominational Riverside Cathedral in New York. Here is a quote of his, "Fear and Faith"
Fear imprisons, faith liberates;
Fear paralyzes, faith empowers;
Fear disheartens, faith encourages;
Fear sickens, faith heals;
Fear makes useless, faith makes serviceable;
And, most of all, fear puts hopelessness at the heart of all,
While faith rejoices in its God." (4)
1. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”, Gordon Lightfoot, 1975.
2. http://www.islandnet.com/~see/weather/almanac/arc_1998/98nov01.htm
3. Dr. Donald B. DeYoung of Creation Research Society. Copyright © 1992, 2003, Donald B. DeYoung, in “Weather & the Bible”, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1992).
4. http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/topics/faith_and_fear_quotes.html
5. Input and ideas from many friends on the Midrash list - Rev. Brian Donst, Rev. Christina Berry, Rev. Jane Baker.
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed when the "Gales of November" came early.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.
Some of the words of Gordon Lightfoot’s famous song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. (1) In November 1975 the ore carrier Edmund Fitzgerald sank during a gale on Lake Superior, with all 29 crew on board. There were no clues to why the ship sank, and no distress calls recorded. It was the worst loss in Great Lakes shipping history.
Lake Erie is the shallowest of the Great Lakes, at a depth of just 200 feet. It is easily stirred up by west winds to produce violent waves and even the largest boats are put at risk.
“Ships caught on the Great Lakes during such fierce storms can be tossed like toys in the fury of wind and wave. As early as 1835, a November storm "swept the lakes clear of sail." In 1847, a major storm claimed 77 ships on the Great Lakes. Ten years later, 65 vessels went down as a storm crossed the Lakes. A gale on Lake Superior in 1905 wrecked 111 ships and sent 14 steel carriers ashore. In 1958 and 1975, powerful storms also caused shipwrecks and damage over the Great Lakes.” (2)
Jesus' disciples were not ocean-faring sailors, not even sailors on the Great Lakes, but they were experienced fishermen. They had been through storms before. But the story in Mark says “ A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped.” Luke describes the wind and raging waves during this storm. Matthew calls it a furious storm without warning. Perhaps this was something they had never seen before.
I did a little reading on storms on the Sea of Galilee, which is really a lake. The storms are a result of different temperatures between the seacoast and the mountains. The Sea of Galilee lies 680 feet below sea level. It is bounded by hills, especially on the east side where they reach 2000 feet high. These heights are a source of cool, dry air. In contrast, directly around the sea, the climate is semi-tropical with warm, moist air. The large difference in height between surrounding land and the sea causes large temperature and pressure changes. This results in strong winds dropping to the sea, funnelling through the hills. The Sea of Galilee is small, and these winds may descend directly to the center of the lake with violent results. When the contrasting air masses meet, a storm can arise quickly and without warning. Small boats caught out on the sea are in immediate danger. The Sea of Galilee is relatively shallow, just 200 feet at its greatest depth. A shallow lake is “whipped up” by wind more rapidly than deep water, where energy is more readily absorbed. (3)
So there they are, out on the Sea of Galilee, in a boat, at night. Now, this isn’t strange at all. There are other incidents where we are told they are fishing at night. In Japan, and probably elsewhere, the squid boats go out at night and long after dark there are little lights bobbing up and down on the water. Mark’s narrative also tells us there are other boats with them. Jesus has asked them to go right across the lake to the other side. As they sail, he is snoozing gently in the hold when the storm comes up. He seems to be completely oblivious to the raging wind and waves, and the fear around him. When they finally waken him, he is cranky with them. He asks if they have no faith.
Well, what would be your reaction? Wouldn’t you be flashing around bailing like crazy, trying to get the sails in, if they were up? If a wave is taller than a boat is long, the boat is going to go down. Maybe they were not of such "little faith" as all that. Maybe they were frantically using all their skills and couldn't believe that Jesus didn't wake up, and maybe they thought if he was sleeping through it, he was going to let the storm overtake them and swamp the boat. Maybe they thought he should get off his holy backside, and row. Maybe they were no more afraid than they ever were at such moments - maybe it was an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, and they expected Jesus to pitch in, not nap while they were doing everything. As for the other boats, presumably they were also dealing with the storm -- so if they had sunk, there would not be much help for a rescue there.
Gordon Lightfoot’s song says “Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” I wonder. In the storm they experienced, the minutes became hours. Jesus had asked them to go all the way to the other side, something they normally didn’t do. There they were in the middle of something bigger than their experience, and Jesus appeared to be asleep.
Is this a story of trusting Jesus in the usual storms of our personal lives, or is Mark here talking about storms that are particular to those who follow Jesus on a journey to an unknown place -- struggling against injustice, confronting evil, crossing boundaries and borders to seek healing, reaching out to the rejected of society, embarking on new ways of being in a confusing world where nothing is the way it was?
Rev. Jane Baker says “My congregation is in the midst of changes within itself, within the community, and our annual conference. Our responses to these changes we face as a result of the Spirit's leading is how we respond to the chaos and storms change always brings about. Not only that, it is a story about how we trust the Spirit's leading.”
I think this passage has long been used for personal reasons, not that there is anything wrong with this, but the interpretation doesn't get to the idea of the church itself and what may occur as we follow Jesus. I do see it about the church and its faith and trust, with Jesus in the boat with us.
“Does anyone know where the love of God goes.....?” In the real seafaring world, even when the ship goes down with all hands, God’s love is there - weeping into the storm. In the parable storms, which are meant to teach us about living in an emergent church - which are meant to teach us about sailing through unknown experiences - the love of God is there. With trust that God is there with us, and that with that presence we too have the power to still the waves and the winds, and get to the other side.
The great American preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick, was a Baptist minister who went on to the inter-denominational Riverside Cathedral in New York. Here is a quote of his, "Fear and Faith"
Fear imprisons, faith liberates;
Fear paralyzes, faith empowers;
Fear disheartens, faith encourages;
Fear sickens, faith heals;
Fear makes useless, faith makes serviceable;
And, most of all, fear puts hopelessness at the heart of all,
While faith rejoices in its God." (4)
1. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”, Gordon Lightfoot, 1975.
2. http://www.islandnet.com/~see/weather/almanac/arc_1998/98nov01.htm
3. Dr. Donald B. DeYoung of Creation Research Society. Copyright © 1992, 2003, Donald B. DeYoung, in “Weather & the Bible”, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1992).
4. http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/topics/faith_and_fear_quotes.html
5. Input and ideas from many friends on the Midrash list - Rev. Brian Donst, Rev. Christina Berry, Rev. Jane Baker.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Planting Seeds Mark 4:1-9 June 14, 2009
Once again Jesus began teaching by the lakeshore. A very large crowd soon gathered around him, so he got into a boat. Then he sat in the boat while all the people remained on the shore. He taught them by telling many stories in the form of parables, such as this one:
“Listen! A farmer went out to plant some seed. As he scattered it across his field, some of the seed fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The seed sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow. But the plant soon wilted under the hot sun, and since it didn’t have deep roots, it died. Other seed fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants so they produced no grain. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they sprouted, grew, and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted!” Then he said, “Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand.”
Facebook - the new Internet location for sharing photos, talking, whatever - with friends and family - and whoever else you want. Before you laugh, some serious people have a page on Facebook. Diana Butler Bass has a page on Facebook. Justin Trudeau has a page. Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders), Cancer Foundations, Habitat, Peace Preschool in Israel all have pages. Some of your local MPs have a page, some people right here have - and yes I do too - so do most of my ministry colleagues, many friends, people I’ve met in many places - cruises, conferences both religious and academic.
Farm Town is an interactive game on Facebook. It’s kind of a virtual farm where you plough the ground, plant seeds, and wait for them to grow. When they are ready to be harvested, you can either do that yourself, or get someone else to do it for you. If you get someone else, both people make more coins and benefit..
One of the things you can do is connect with other people who become your neighbours. You can then visit their farm to weed and tend, and as you help other neighbours, you get more points and advance in the game.
Yes, I play Farm Town. But as I’ve been playing, I’ve noticed a few things. The “farm” is whatever we make of it - and as you visit other farms, you get a great sense of the imagination - as well as the personality - of the owner. It is a co-operative game; yes, you can advance in the game without relying on anyone else; but when you cooperate with others, both people advance faster. There are protocols for playing, and rudeness is largely not tolerated. Every person has a story. It is a creative imagination game - and even the simple act of ploughing, planting, and then waiting for those little seeds to come up - is quite relaxing and soothing.
We have a saying in the church that all the world is God’s farm. And I think that is what sticks with me. There is a little key on the game that you can zoom out, so you can see the whole of the farm - and all around you are your neighbours. In a sense, you can look at the whole of creation as a big picture, with people from everywhere - a kind of global village on the internet. And what is fascinating is that even as you sleep - just as in a real farm - those little crops keep coming up and maturing - and for those of us who don’t write computer languages, it’s a mystery how it all happens.
Well, I don’t just go in and go out. I like to “talk” to the people there. Let me tell you about a young woman living in Abu Dhabi where her husband works; a young man in Yorkshire who has a pet snake; a nurse in Norway on the night shift, on her break: a wonderful woman from Hawaii, with whom I had a long conversation one night, about the lives of indigenous peoples and the damage done to creation.
I chose to use the parable of planting seeds today, to move us to our discussion of our ministries and life in Glen Ayr. Parables were teaching tools, a way of making a point in story form. Jesus taught almost always in parables - so here he tells them about a farmer who goes out plant, and scatters the seed. Then he goes on to tell them about different kinds of soil, how the seed grows depending on where it lands, and if it’s productive or not. Some of the seed fell on poor soil some fell on rocky ground, and some fell into good soil.
A congregation is a little like a farm - the word is scattered to us like seed - and depending on where it falls, it takes root and begins the metamorphosis. Ploughing, planting and growing are critical to the life of the farm. You don’t come here, and suddenly get it all. Faith is not something which happens once, and never has to be cultivated again. Jesus addresses that directly - some of the seed gets wasted, but some does take hold and grow.
Rev. Christina Berry says “Here’s the thing. The church can’t save itself up for its retirement. The resources we have weren’t given to us so we could quit growing and working. The realm of God is about a new creation, sweeping away old ideas, and putting in their place another way of being.”
Following Jesus means expecting new and amazing things to develop from tiny inauspicious beginnings - like an apple seed. Believing in this means that God plants little seeds, and while we are not looking the whole thing changes. In another way of saying the seed fell on different kinds of soil, the writer reports that as Jesus taught “He spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it.” This is Jesus, grinning from ear to ear and jabbing us in the ribs with his elbow, and telling us to hang on for dear life, because life is about to take us places....”
One of the things I love about my little farm, like my garden, is that it’s never finished. It’s a work in progress all the time. The realm of God, I believe, is like that. It is a work in progress. We don’t know where we are going to be taken, but we know that standing still isn’t an option. The One who plants us, who calls us to grow, who harvests and calls others to share in the harvest, has some big plans. Thanks be to God.
1. Rev. Christina Berry, First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, Illinois - from the sermon “Hold the Mustard”..
“Listen! A farmer went out to plant some seed. As he scattered it across his field, some of the seed fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The seed sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow. But the plant soon wilted under the hot sun, and since it didn’t have deep roots, it died. Other seed fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants so they produced no grain. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they sprouted, grew, and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted!” Then he said, “Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand.”
Facebook - the new Internet location for sharing photos, talking, whatever - with friends and family - and whoever else you want. Before you laugh, some serious people have a page on Facebook. Diana Butler Bass has a page on Facebook. Justin Trudeau has a page. Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders), Cancer Foundations, Habitat, Peace Preschool in Israel all have pages. Some of your local MPs have a page, some people right here have - and yes I do too - so do most of my ministry colleagues, many friends, people I’ve met in many places - cruises, conferences both religious and academic.
Farm Town is an interactive game on Facebook. It’s kind of a virtual farm where you plough the ground, plant seeds, and wait for them to grow. When they are ready to be harvested, you can either do that yourself, or get someone else to do it for you. If you get someone else, both people make more coins and benefit..
One of the things you can do is connect with other people who become your neighbours. You can then visit their farm to weed and tend, and as you help other neighbours, you get more points and advance in the game.
Yes, I play Farm Town. But as I’ve been playing, I’ve noticed a few things. The “farm” is whatever we make of it - and as you visit other farms, you get a great sense of the imagination - as well as the personality - of the owner. It is a co-operative game; yes, you can advance in the game without relying on anyone else; but when you cooperate with others, both people advance faster. There are protocols for playing, and rudeness is largely not tolerated. Every person has a story. It is a creative imagination game - and even the simple act of ploughing, planting, and then waiting for those little seeds to come up - is quite relaxing and soothing.
We have a saying in the church that all the world is God’s farm. And I think that is what sticks with me. There is a little key on the game that you can zoom out, so you can see the whole of the farm - and all around you are your neighbours. In a sense, you can look at the whole of creation as a big picture, with people from everywhere - a kind of global village on the internet. And what is fascinating is that even as you sleep - just as in a real farm - those little crops keep coming up and maturing - and for those of us who don’t write computer languages, it’s a mystery how it all happens.
Well, I don’t just go in and go out. I like to “talk” to the people there. Let me tell you about a young woman living in Abu Dhabi where her husband works; a young man in Yorkshire who has a pet snake; a nurse in Norway on the night shift, on her break: a wonderful woman from Hawaii, with whom I had a long conversation one night, about the lives of indigenous peoples and the damage done to creation.
I chose to use the parable of planting seeds today, to move us to our discussion of our ministries and life in Glen Ayr. Parables were teaching tools, a way of making a point in story form. Jesus taught almost always in parables - so here he tells them about a farmer who goes out plant, and scatters the seed. Then he goes on to tell them about different kinds of soil, how the seed grows depending on where it lands, and if it’s productive or not. Some of the seed fell on poor soil some fell on rocky ground, and some fell into good soil.
A congregation is a little like a farm - the word is scattered to us like seed - and depending on where it falls, it takes root and begins the metamorphosis. Ploughing, planting and growing are critical to the life of the farm. You don’t come here, and suddenly get it all. Faith is not something which happens once, and never has to be cultivated again. Jesus addresses that directly - some of the seed gets wasted, but some does take hold and grow.
Rev. Christina Berry says “Here’s the thing. The church can’t save itself up for its retirement. The resources we have weren’t given to us so we could quit growing and working. The realm of God is about a new creation, sweeping away old ideas, and putting in their place another way of being.”
Following Jesus means expecting new and amazing things to develop from tiny inauspicious beginnings - like an apple seed. Believing in this means that God plants little seeds, and while we are not looking the whole thing changes. In another way of saying the seed fell on different kinds of soil, the writer reports that as Jesus taught “He spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it.” This is Jesus, grinning from ear to ear and jabbing us in the ribs with his elbow, and telling us to hang on for dear life, because life is about to take us places....”
One of the things I love about my little farm, like my garden, is that it’s never finished. It’s a work in progress all the time. The realm of God, I believe, is like that. It is a work in progress. We don’t know where we are going to be taken, but we know that standing still isn’t an option. The One who plants us, who calls us to grow, who harvests and calls others to share in the harvest, has some big plans. Thanks be to God.
1. Rev. Christina Berry, First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, Illinois - from the sermon “Hold the Mustard”..
Saturday, May 9, 2009
A Different Message 1 John 4:7-21 Fifth Sunday of Easter
On Friday night I was having a conversation with my son about God, faith, religion and - in his mind - the damage religion does when it is not carefully thought out. He was relating that a colleague of his at work has recently become involved in a church, and it is beginning to consume his life. He tends to repeat whatever he is told without thinking. So this colleague pronounced that if people don’t love God, they can’t love others either.
It was interesting that we were having this particular conversation, because I had already decided to preach on the text of John - whoever loves comes from God. This is precisely the opposite of what my son’s colleague was saying. We don’t have to love God first, and then find the capability to love others. It is the other way around - humans are born to love, and the love we are capable of having for others connects us to God.
So it raises for me the question of what constitutes “right belief”. Is it a so-called orthodox belief that only Christians are selected by God, and can have a relationship with God. Is God so limited? What, and who, defines our relationship to God? Us?
Is baptism evidence of “right belief”? We bring children for baptism, make promises on their behalf. Does that mean they have “right belief” just because of that action? We confirm our children when they are teens, and they are considered members of the church. Is that all ‘right belief’ takes? Or do those young people then continue to learn and discover what love in faith means?
Is prayer “right belief”? What kind of prayer? Is prayer alone the most important thing? Does God ignore us if we don’t pray a certain way? Does God do what we ask and turn others down?
What about social justice and outreach? Is that “right belief”? Shelters, warm meals, Habitat for Humanity builds, compassion. Are those the only evidence of “right belief”? John’s Gospel talks about Jesus being the vine, and us the branches. Jesus was love, Jesus is love. So if that is the case, then we also are born to love - and out of that love surely comes a mission. A church with no sense of mission has cut itself off from the Vine. Without connection to the Vine, mission in the church is just mission by any other social agency.
What about the ‘born again’ experience? Is that the earmark of “right belief”? We know that deeply moving experiences can change lives. Is that all? One moving experience which connects us to God, and suddenly we have “right belief”? What does it mean to be “born again”? Who defines what “born again” is?
I suggest that beyond baptism, beyond orthodox or unorthodox faith stances, beyond prayer, beyond social justice and outreach, there are the two statements from John which put all of those things into a different perspective.
First, we have this statement: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.”
....and this statement: “For God is love.....if we love one another, God lives in us, God’s love is perfected in us.”
Love. It is the single most important thing in the Christian faith. Prayer, baptism, outreach, life in community - these are all important things. But I would go so far as to say that the most important is love.
Agape, or love within a community, is the single piece, the one criterion that gives meaning to everything else we say or do. We might be able to recite the creeds, and the Lord’s Prayer, but if we do not have love, we are what Paul says is a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. We may have experiences that take us into God’s holy presence, but without love it does us no good. And though we feed the hungry and rescue those who are perishing but have no love, we are nothing. We might think baptism is all it takes - but unless a child learns to love throughout life - it is a meaningless ritual.
To have love - agape - is to have God living within us; everyone who loves has God within them.
But this one simple statement takes us well beyond the Christian context, and into a world-wide context. “Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God; if we love one another, God lives in us.” It means that God lives within human beings regardless of whether or not they are baptised, or whether or not they pray, or even whether or not they claim they are Christian. God is love. God cannot be contained by one faith, or one way of looking at faith. God lives because we love.
It was interesting that we were having this particular conversation, because I had already decided to preach on the text of John - whoever loves comes from God. This is precisely the opposite of what my son’s colleague was saying. We don’t have to love God first, and then find the capability to love others. It is the other way around - humans are born to love, and the love we are capable of having for others connects us to God.
So it raises for me the question of what constitutes “right belief”. Is it a so-called orthodox belief that only Christians are selected by God, and can have a relationship with God. Is God so limited? What, and who, defines our relationship to God? Us?
Is baptism evidence of “right belief”? We bring children for baptism, make promises on their behalf. Does that mean they have “right belief” just because of that action? We confirm our children when they are teens, and they are considered members of the church. Is that all ‘right belief’ takes? Or do those young people then continue to learn and discover what love in faith means?
Is prayer “right belief”? What kind of prayer? Is prayer alone the most important thing? Does God ignore us if we don’t pray a certain way? Does God do what we ask and turn others down?
What about social justice and outreach? Is that “right belief”? Shelters, warm meals, Habitat for Humanity builds, compassion. Are those the only evidence of “right belief”? John’s Gospel talks about Jesus being the vine, and us the branches. Jesus was love, Jesus is love. So if that is the case, then we also are born to love - and out of that love surely comes a mission. A church with no sense of mission has cut itself off from the Vine. Without connection to the Vine, mission in the church is just mission by any other social agency.
What about the ‘born again’ experience? Is that the earmark of “right belief”? We know that deeply moving experiences can change lives. Is that all? One moving experience which connects us to God, and suddenly we have “right belief”? What does it mean to be “born again”? Who defines what “born again” is?
I suggest that beyond baptism, beyond orthodox or unorthodox faith stances, beyond prayer, beyond social justice and outreach, there are the two statements from John which put all of those things into a different perspective.
First, we have this statement: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.”
....and this statement: “For God is love.....if we love one another, God lives in us, God’s love is perfected in us.”
Love. It is the single most important thing in the Christian faith. Prayer, baptism, outreach, life in community - these are all important things. But I would go so far as to say that the most important is love.
Agape, or love within a community, is the single piece, the one criterion that gives meaning to everything else we say or do. We might be able to recite the creeds, and the Lord’s Prayer, but if we do not have love, we are what Paul says is a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. We may have experiences that take us into God’s holy presence, but without love it does us no good. And though we feed the hungry and rescue those who are perishing but have no love, we are nothing. We might think baptism is all it takes - but unless a child learns to love throughout life - it is a meaningless ritual.
To have love - agape - is to have God living within us; everyone who loves has God within them.
But this one simple statement takes us well beyond the Christian context, and into a world-wide context. “Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God; if we love one another, God lives in us.” It means that God lives within human beings regardless of whether or not they are baptised, or whether or not they pray, or even whether or not they claim they are Christian. God is love. God cannot be contained by one faith, or one way of looking at faith. God lives because we love.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The Cup of My Life Fourth Sunday of Easter Psalm 23, John 10:11-18
In the last couple of weeks we’ve had a scare about swine flu. The Centres for Disease Control were on the verge of leaping right past epidemic warnings, to a full pandemic warning. Here, however, is a sobering thought. Last year 36,000 people in North America alone died of regular influenza. In 2006, there were 247 million cases of malaria, and 881,000 deaths in 2008.
Second. I was sent a video, by two different people, of a Chinese woman who has no arms. She lives alone, and supports herself. She can comb her hair, wash herself, cook and clean, and completely looks after herself. The video shows her overturning rocks with her feet, to take out crabs for sale.
These two things took me to the 23rd Psalm - one of the rocks in our statements of faith, along with the Lord’s Prayer - and one of those things we can recite practically off by heart, want at every memorial service, and don’t think about its meaning a lot. Especially the line “My cup runs over.....”.
There is an odd thing about this Psalm - Palestine has not been known for its succulent, lush grasslands; in its place are thousands of square miles of parched ground, desiccated vegetation and desolate desert floor. How could the writer--probably a Bedouin shepherd himself--describe wasteland as "green"? In fact, some shepherds took the time to create "green” pastures; got rid of the rocks, irrigated it, planted legumes and vegetations that had deep tap roots; the green pastures would be scattered throughout the vast territory of the desert and the shepherds would guide their flocks throughout the long arid months from one oasis to the next.
For those of the Jewish faith, this Psalm is part of the Sabbath rituals, recited at the Sabbath meal. It is part of the Jewish funeral service. I can’t imagine there are many here today who have not heard it recited at a funeral or memorial.
I think we need to pay attention to it because its message reaches deep into the places where people live. In the end, the psalm is about finding comfort in times of desperation and despair ...and who has not visited those wastelands? Yet it is also a Psalm of hope in the face of great trial and despair - a Psalm which speaks of living waters and green fields, a place where the cups of our lives run over with everything good.
There is a story about Psalm 23. This psalm is attributed to David, before he became king. David had become a hero after killing Goliath. Though he remained loyal to King Saul, Saul grew jealous, and saw David as a threat. Several times Saul sent David to war, in order to ensure his death. When that didn’t work, Saul got more heavy-handed, with the result that David was forced to run into the wilderness. Supposedly, during this time David composed this Psalm. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
“God is my shepherd.” This statement is, in Scripture, the first linking of the divine as the shepherd; John expanded on the idea in the Gospel, naming Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Now, if we say the word ‘shepherd’, what image comes to mind? I bet the one we all think of is the handsome strapping fellow with a lamb draped around his neck and looking dewy-eyed at baby Jesus
Is that what it is? The sheep is owned and lives or dies at the whim of the shepherd. Any measure of protection given to the sheep is what a good person gives his property. He can use the rod and staff to keep predators away, but also to herd the sheep, and not necessarily gently. Sheep are not recognised for their intelligence or gentle nature, but for wool and food. They aren’t necessarily beloved pets.
.
So in some ways the psalm could be seen as surrendering to someone who owns you and having faith that you will be treated well. In this case, for David, the shepherd does. So we have a beautiful poem about an exhausted and disheartened being finding peace through surrender to God. I certainly know that place, that place of fear and deep anxiety. For that is the meaning here - not literally death, but those times in our lives when we are so far down, we are in the valley of the shadow of death.
You know the saying “There are no atheists in a foxhole”. No atheist in the trenches? No atheist on an airplane about to crash? Rev. Brian Kiely, at the Unitarian Church of Edmonton, writes “For many years, flying would always bring out all my near-death fears. I’d look around at my fellow passengers and wonder if I should get to know them just in case we found ourselves on the brink of death. I’d grip the arms of my seat so tightly during take-off and landing that my knuckles would turn white.
Years ago, on a particularly bumpy flight, (you know, one of those flights when the plane keeps dropping thousands of feet unexpectedly) I found myself sitting next to a crying child. I could barely keep myself from shaking apart. So, I began to sing the one prayer I knew: Spirit of Life come unto me. Spirit of Life, the hymn I’d been singing with Unitarian Universalist congregations for years. Magically, we both calmed. I imagined the Spirit of Life, the Divine Mystery, present with us, and the spirit of my whole religious community singing in unison, holding us close as we bumped through the skies.”
Kiely uses the example of the great Bobby McFerrin, who created a choral setting of the Psalm, substituting She for He.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
She makes me lay down in green pastures; she leads me beside still waters;
she restores my soul…
He says “For me, the word She was a gateway—somehow it opened the psalm’s power for me. How do I explain it? It is absolutely true that I was unsure as any Unitarian Universalist seeker about my own theology, that I did not start praying to God until I found myself in a foxhole, on a flight. I was one big chicken, sure that I was about to die– no matter what anyone may have told me about the statistical unlikelihood. And I prayed really, really hard. I found that I wasn’t praying to be saved in the event of a disaster. I was praying in gratitude for the life I had lived thus far, for all the small, beautiful moments. I was praying that all those I loved would be blessed. I was praying that the world would be blessed.”
“The great American preacher Howard Thurman once described prayer as an inward journey across an interior sea to an island. In the center of the island stands a temple and inside the temple burns a flame. That’s where prayers go. That idea has always moved me. If my prayers go anywhere, they go into me and towards whatever spark of the divine lies within. My prayers call on my inner reserves and whatever capacity I have to summon the peace and confidence that calms my fears in times of stress and anxiety.
And that is the place I come to in the midst of the angst of the last few weeks, the over-reactions and fanning of the flames of fear, trying to convince us we are coming to the valley of the shadow. These are our enemies - the times we fear, the times we despair, the times when we get bogged down in what is wrong with our lives.
In the past few weeks since Easter - with the economy going down, the busy-ness of extra services and extra meetings, hard decisions to make, seeing things come apart no matter how hard we try, it is easy to fall into a kind of dis-ease and despair. For clergy, every year just after Easter, we tend to go under spiritually and psychologically. The longer we are in ministry, the longer it takes to come out of that place. Add into that all the things we read - pirates hijacking ships, a new version of an old flu, shaky economy, loss - it is easy to forget why we come here, why we claim we have faith.
And I come back to that incredible Chinese woman, who could have simply given up on life, who could have despaired. Yet it is obvious from the video that this woman has a life, and a full one at that. Yes, it's a hard life. Yet no harder than life for people with two arms and hands - and it's clear that her attitude is that life is good.
I discovered another version of this Psalm, partly written by a secular humanist.
God is my guide. I am not denied the sustaining power of life.
The green earth provides nourishment, the cool still pools of water refresh my spirit.
A deep intuition leads me along a path that is true, for the sake of existence itself.
Even though I walk through a valley where dark shadows intervene in life,
I will not fear, for the Spirit is within me.
The tools which keep me from despair are a comfort. Even in the face of threats to my life, the Spirit nourishes me, honours me by its presence and reminds me that I really have more than I need. Surely goodness and kindness radiate are always with me, and I will dwell within this universe always.
I think in these times, it is worth going back to this Psalm and using it as a prayer - you prepare a place for me, right where my enemies are. The cup of my life runs over with your goodness. No matter what happens in my life, goodness and compassion go with me. You are with me. Thanks be to God.
Sources:
1. The Good Shepherd by Rev. Thomas Hall
2. The 23rd Psalm by Rev. Richard Kiely, Unitarian Church, Edmonton Alberta.
Second. I was sent a video, by two different people, of a Chinese woman who has no arms. She lives alone, and supports herself. She can comb her hair, wash herself, cook and clean, and completely looks after herself. The video shows her overturning rocks with her feet, to take out crabs for sale.
These two things took me to the 23rd Psalm - one of the rocks in our statements of faith, along with the Lord’s Prayer - and one of those things we can recite practically off by heart, want at every memorial service, and don’t think about its meaning a lot. Especially the line “My cup runs over.....”.
There is an odd thing about this Psalm - Palestine has not been known for its succulent, lush grasslands; in its place are thousands of square miles of parched ground, desiccated vegetation and desolate desert floor. How could the writer--probably a Bedouin shepherd himself--describe wasteland as "green"? In fact, some shepherds took the time to create "green” pastures; got rid of the rocks, irrigated it, planted legumes and vegetations that had deep tap roots; the green pastures would be scattered throughout the vast territory of the desert and the shepherds would guide their flocks throughout the long arid months from one oasis to the next.
For those of the Jewish faith, this Psalm is part of the Sabbath rituals, recited at the Sabbath meal. It is part of the Jewish funeral service. I can’t imagine there are many here today who have not heard it recited at a funeral or memorial.
I think we need to pay attention to it because its message reaches deep into the places where people live. In the end, the psalm is about finding comfort in times of desperation and despair ...and who has not visited those wastelands? Yet it is also a Psalm of hope in the face of great trial and despair - a Psalm which speaks of living waters and green fields, a place where the cups of our lives run over with everything good.
There is a story about Psalm 23. This psalm is attributed to David, before he became king. David had become a hero after killing Goliath. Though he remained loyal to King Saul, Saul grew jealous, and saw David as a threat. Several times Saul sent David to war, in order to ensure his death. When that didn’t work, Saul got more heavy-handed, with the result that David was forced to run into the wilderness. Supposedly, during this time David composed this Psalm. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
“God is my shepherd.” This statement is, in Scripture, the first linking of the divine as the shepherd; John expanded on the idea in the Gospel, naming Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Now, if we say the word ‘shepherd’, what image comes to mind? I bet the one we all think of is the handsome strapping fellow with a lamb draped around his neck and looking dewy-eyed at baby Jesus
Is that what it is? The sheep is owned and lives or dies at the whim of the shepherd. Any measure of protection given to the sheep is what a good person gives his property. He can use the rod and staff to keep predators away, but also to herd the sheep, and not necessarily gently. Sheep are not recognised for their intelligence or gentle nature, but for wool and food. They aren’t necessarily beloved pets.
.
So in some ways the psalm could be seen as surrendering to someone who owns you and having faith that you will be treated well. In this case, for David, the shepherd does. So we have a beautiful poem about an exhausted and disheartened being finding peace through surrender to God. I certainly know that place, that place of fear and deep anxiety. For that is the meaning here - not literally death, but those times in our lives when we are so far down, we are in the valley of the shadow of death.
You know the saying “There are no atheists in a foxhole”. No atheist in the trenches? No atheist on an airplane about to crash? Rev. Brian Kiely, at the Unitarian Church of Edmonton, writes “For many years, flying would always bring out all my near-death fears. I’d look around at my fellow passengers and wonder if I should get to know them just in case we found ourselves on the brink of death. I’d grip the arms of my seat so tightly during take-off and landing that my knuckles would turn white.
Years ago, on a particularly bumpy flight, (you know, one of those flights when the plane keeps dropping thousands of feet unexpectedly) I found myself sitting next to a crying child. I could barely keep myself from shaking apart. So, I began to sing the one prayer I knew: Spirit of Life come unto me. Spirit of Life, the hymn I’d been singing with Unitarian Universalist congregations for years. Magically, we both calmed. I imagined the Spirit of Life, the Divine Mystery, present with us, and the spirit of my whole religious community singing in unison, holding us close as we bumped through the skies.”
Kiely uses the example of the great Bobby McFerrin, who created a choral setting of the Psalm, substituting She for He.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
She makes me lay down in green pastures; she leads me beside still waters;
she restores my soul…
He says “For me, the word She was a gateway—somehow it opened the psalm’s power for me. How do I explain it? It is absolutely true that I was unsure as any Unitarian Universalist seeker about my own theology, that I did not start praying to God until I found myself in a foxhole, on a flight. I was one big chicken, sure that I was about to die– no matter what anyone may have told me about the statistical unlikelihood. And I prayed really, really hard. I found that I wasn’t praying to be saved in the event of a disaster. I was praying in gratitude for the life I had lived thus far, for all the small, beautiful moments. I was praying that all those I loved would be blessed. I was praying that the world would be blessed.”
“The great American preacher Howard Thurman once described prayer as an inward journey across an interior sea to an island. In the center of the island stands a temple and inside the temple burns a flame. That’s where prayers go. That idea has always moved me. If my prayers go anywhere, they go into me and towards whatever spark of the divine lies within. My prayers call on my inner reserves and whatever capacity I have to summon the peace and confidence that calms my fears in times of stress and anxiety.
And that is the place I come to in the midst of the angst of the last few weeks, the over-reactions and fanning of the flames of fear, trying to convince us we are coming to the valley of the shadow. These are our enemies - the times we fear, the times we despair, the times when we get bogged down in what is wrong with our lives.
In the past few weeks since Easter - with the economy going down, the busy-ness of extra services and extra meetings, hard decisions to make, seeing things come apart no matter how hard we try, it is easy to fall into a kind of dis-ease and despair. For clergy, every year just after Easter, we tend to go under spiritually and psychologically. The longer we are in ministry, the longer it takes to come out of that place. Add into that all the things we read - pirates hijacking ships, a new version of an old flu, shaky economy, loss - it is easy to forget why we come here, why we claim we have faith.
And I come back to that incredible Chinese woman, who could have simply given up on life, who could have despaired. Yet it is obvious from the video that this woman has a life, and a full one at that. Yes, it's a hard life. Yet no harder than life for people with two arms and hands - and it's clear that her attitude is that life is good.
I discovered another version of this Psalm, partly written by a secular humanist.
God is my guide. I am not denied the sustaining power of life.
The green earth provides nourishment, the cool still pools of water refresh my spirit.
A deep intuition leads me along a path that is true, for the sake of existence itself.
Even though I walk through a valley where dark shadows intervene in life,
I will not fear, for the Spirit is within me.
The tools which keep me from despair are a comfort. Even in the face of threats to my life, the Spirit nourishes me, honours me by its presence and reminds me that I really have more than I need. Surely goodness and kindness radiate are always with me, and I will dwell within this universe always.
I think in these times, it is worth going back to this Psalm and using it as a prayer - you prepare a place for me, right where my enemies are. The cup of my life runs over with your goodness. No matter what happens in my life, goodness and compassion go with me. You are with me. Thanks be to God.
Sources:
1. The Good Shepherd by Rev. Thomas Hall
2. The 23rd Psalm by Rev. Richard Kiely, Unitarian Church, Edmonton Alberta.
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