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.
Saturday, January 17, 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.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Other Person in the Story
Luke 2:1-7, Matthew 1:18-24, 2:13-15
Ann Weems, in her book “Kneeling in Bethlehem”, wrote these lines in the poem “Getting to the Front of the Stable?” We know little about Joseph, except that he was from the line of King David, and worked in Nazareth as a carpenter. Matthew and Luke present him as a kind, and deeply spiritual man. ...the opening of Matthew’s Gospel gives the whole of David’s line, to prove Joseph comes from King David. It is a puzzle as to why he is a carpenter in Nazareth, when he is a descendant of a wealthy land-owning family in Bethlehem, royal blood flowing in his veins. Work as a carpenter was equivalent to slave labour. Something drastic must have happened. The second-century Book of James and fourth century History of Joseph the Carpenter present him as a widower with children at the time he met Mary in Nazareth. I would assume that this is the origin of the idea that Joseph was older than Mary
William Willimon, former Dean of Duke University Chapel, now a bishop in Alabama, tells of an incident which happened while preparing for the Christmas pageant at Duke Chapel. The director of the pageant had just received a phone call from the mother of the young man who was to play Joseph. Her son was sick and would not be able to play his part. “We have no Joseph!” was the directors cry. “Not to worry,” Willimon reassured her. “We can get a shepherd to fill in. Joseph doesn’t have a speaking part. He just stands there.”
It occurred to me, watching the movie “Nativity Story” again, that the interpretation of the whole story really put “legs” under Joseph, so to speak. He was a real person, with real feelings, who also went against the culture of his people. Mary could not have made it without him. Probably neither could Jesus.
The texts tell us that Joseph also had visions. When he is ready to put Mary aside and not marry her, an angel comes to him. And he listens! When they are in danger in Bethlehem, another warning comes, and he takes Mary and Jesus to live in Egypt until Herod is dead. He gives up everything to save the two of them. It was custom that when a man agreed to take on a child not of his own making, he still became that child’s father for the purposes of records and posterity. The only way Jesus could have descended from the line of David was if Joseph was willing to take him as his own. In fact, Joseph is a critical part of the story, and yet we have reduced him to the role of potted plant on a stage. A non-speaking part which just stands there. In stage lingo, he would be the equivalent of the spear-carrier, the expendable extra who gets bumped off as the tale unfolds.
I want to stand up for Joseph. He was a critical and integral part of this whole scenario. He wasn’t an extra who just stood there. In every reading of the story, all the carols we sing, all the art work, Mary and the shepherds and the kings, all get the attention. Joseph is stuck at the back of the stable, wearing brown and holding a staff, looking as if he really has nothing to do with this.
I want to bring him to the front of the stable. In our tradition Mary has been recognised as the first disciple. As little more than a child herself, she was asked to break completely with culture and tradition, risk the displeasure of the man to whom she was engaged, to follow God’s call.
If Mary was the first disciple, I suggest that Joseph was the second. When I say disciple, though, let me be clear. Both these people were not followers of Jesus - they were Israelites called by God and told they were to be parents of the Messiah, the one for whom all Israel.
Let’s look at the two texts - first, from Matthew:
The birth of Jesus happened in this way: Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph was a righteous man, and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he thought to quietly put her aside.
As he was considering this, a messenger of God appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, take Mary as your wife, because her child comes from the Holy Spirit. She will have a son, and his name should be Joshua, which means “The Lord saves.”
When Joseph woke up, he did what the messenger had told him and took Mary home as his wife....
.....and from Luke:
So Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee, to Bethlehem in Judea, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Joseph knew the Scriptures, and he generally lived with the scriptures as a guide. What the scriptures said was clear; he should get rid of the disgrace of Mary, and get a legal decree separating them before a marriage took place. It was tantamount to a divorce. - and that was the gentler interpretation of the law.
But Joseph, instead of interpreting literally and to the letter of the law, chooses the God of compassion, of kindness, love, forgiveness. I am sure he didn’t sleep a lot. What had happened to Mary had not only changed her life in the village of Nazareth, it had changed his as well. No matter what he did, he would be remembered either as the guy who *did* get taken for a ride, or almost got taken. The law was clear. But rather than endanger her or the baby, he decides to simply separate from her quietly. Then a messenger comes to him, with the same message. It is safe to take Mary as his wife. And Joseph says yes.
Rev. Joseph Harvard, at First Presbyterian Church in Durham, NC, says this about Joseph’s choice.
“He said a bold, brave, risky yes to God. He said a yes to the surprising God, who not only asked Joseph to say yes, but asked him to look beyond the clear lines of the law, to see that God was doing something new in his midst. He asked Joseph to be a part of this new thing, and Joseph did.”
...and finally, the rest of the Matthew text:
When the Magi had gone, a messenger from God came to Joseph in a dream. "Get up, take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child in order to kill him." So Joseph got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod."
Here, Joseph is told to make a hurried retreat into Egypt, and wait for the angel to come *again*, when it would be safe for him to go home. He literally gave up everything he was, everything he had, his home, his work, his reputation - *everything* - in order to do this incredible thing. He set out on a journey in a harsh land, where he could easily have been attacked by bandits. Desert nights are never warm. He had to take food for himself and Mary *and* the donkey. He knew where Bethlehem was, but then along comes God and says now go to Egypt. ...and do what? No idea, but he gets up and goes.
Here is the whole poem by Ann Weems:
Who put Joseph in the back of the stable?
Who dressed him in brown,
put a staff in his hand,
and told him to stand
in the back of the creche,
background for the magnificent light
of the Madonna?
God-chosen, this man Joseph was faithful
in spite of the gossip in Nazareth,
in spite of the danger from Herod.
This man, Joseph, listened to angels
and it was he who named the Child
Emmanuel.
Is this a man to be stuck for centuries
in the back of the stable?
Actually, Joseph probably stood in the doorway
guarding the mother and child
or greeting shepherds and kings.
When he wasn’t in the doorway,
he was probably urging Mary
to get some rest,
gently covering her with his cloak,
assuring her that he would watch the Child.
Actually, he probably picked the Child up in his arms
and walked him in the night,
patting him lovingly
until he closed his eyes.
This Christmas, let us give thanks to God
for this man of incredible faith
into whose care God placed
The Christ Child.
As a gesture of gratitude,
let’s put Joseph in the front of the stable
where he can guard and greet
and cast an occasional glance
at this Child who brought us life.
Sources:
1. Walter Murray, Applewood United Church, Mississauga, from the 2001 Gathering Worship Resources.
2. Rev. Joseph Harvard, First Presbyterian Church, Durham, North Carolina: from the December 23, 2007 sermon “Getting to the Front of the Stable.”
3. Ann Weems, ‘Getting to the Front of the Stable.’ in “Kneeling in Bethlehem”. Westminster John Knox Press, July 1996. Pp. 52-53.
Ann Weems, in her book “Kneeling in Bethlehem”, wrote these lines in the poem “Getting to the Front of the Stable?” We know little about Joseph, except that he was from the line of King David, and worked in Nazareth as a carpenter. Matthew and Luke present him as a kind, and deeply spiritual man. ...the opening of Matthew’s Gospel gives the whole of David’s line, to prove Joseph comes from King David. It is a puzzle as to why he is a carpenter in Nazareth, when he is a descendant of a wealthy land-owning family in Bethlehem, royal blood flowing in his veins. Work as a carpenter was equivalent to slave labour. Something drastic must have happened. The second-century Book of James and fourth century History of Joseph the Carpenter present him as a widower with children at the time he met Mary in Nazareth. I would assume that this is the origin of the idea that Joseph was older than Mary
William Willimon, former Dean of Duke University Chapel, now a bishop in Alabama, tells of an incident which happened while preparing for the Christmas pageant at Duke Chapel. The director of the pageant had just received a phone call from the mother of the young man who was to play Joseph. Her son was sick and would not be able to play his part. “We have no Joseph!” was the directors cry. “Not to worry,” Willimon reassured her. “We can get a shepherd to fill in. Joseph doesn’t have a speaking part. He just stands there.”
It occurred to me, watching the movie “Nativity Story” again, that the interpretation of the whole story really put “legs” under Joseph, so to speak. He was a real person, with real feelings, who also went against the culture of his people. Mary could not have made it without him. Probably neither could Jesus.
The texts tell us that Joseph also had visions. When he is ready to put Mary aside and not marry her, an angel comes to him. And he listens! When they are in danger in Bethlehem, another warning comes, and he takes Mary and Jesus to live in Egypt until Herod is dead. He gives up everything to save the two of them. It was custom that when a man agreed to take on a child not of his own making, he still became that child’s father for the purposes of records and posterity. The only way Jesus could have descended from the line of David was if Joseph was willing to take him as his own. In fact, Joseph is a critical part of the story, and yet we have reduced him to the role of potted plant on a stage. A non-speaking part which just stands there. In stage lingo, he would be the equivalent of the spear-carrier, the expendable extra who gets bumped off as the tale unfolds.
I want to stand up for Joseph. He was a critical and integral part of this whole scenario. He wasn’t an extra who just stood there. In every reading of the story, all the carols we sing, all the art work, Mary and the shepherds and the kings, all get the attention. Joseph is stuck at the back of the stable, wearing brown and holding a staff, looking as if he really has nothing to do with this.
I want to bring him to the front of the stable. In our tradition Mary has been recognised as the first disciple. As little more than a child herself, she was asked to break completely with culture and tradition, risk the displeasure of the man to whom she was engaged, to follow God’s call.
If Mary was the first disciple, I suggest that Joseph was the second. When I say disciple, though, let me be clear. Both these people were not followers of Jesus - they were Israelites called by God and told they were to be parents of the Messiah, the one for whom all Israel.
Let’s look at the two texts - first, from Matthew:
The birth of Jesus happened in this way: Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph was a righteous man, and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he thought to quietly put her aside.
As he was considering this, a messenger of God appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, take Mary as your wife, because her child comes from the Holy Spirit. She will have a son, and his name should be Joshua, which means “The Lord saves.”
When Joseph woke up, he did what the messenger had told him and took Mary home as his wife....
.....and from Luke:
So Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee, to Bethlehem in Judea, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Joseph knew the Scriptures, and he generally lived with the scriptures as a guide. What the scriptures said was clear; he should get rid of the disgrace of Mary, and get a legal decree separating them before a marriage took place. It was tantamount to a divorce. - and that was the gentler interpretation of the law.
But Joseph, instead of interpreting literally and to the letter of the law, chooses the God of compassion, of kindness, love, forgiveness. I am sure he didn’t sleep a lot. What had happened to Mary had not only changed her life in the village of Nazareth, it had changed his as well. No matter what he did, he would be remembered either as the guy who *did* get taken for a ride, or almost got taken. The law was clear. But rather than endanger her or the baby, he decides to simply separate from her quietly. Then a messenger comes to him, with the same message. It is safe to take Mary as his wife. And Joseph says yes.
Rev. Joseph Harvard, at First Presbyterian Church in Durham, NC, says this about Joseph’s choice.
“He said a bold, brave, risky yes to God. He said a yes to the surprising God, who not only asked Joseph to say yes, but asked him to look beyond the clear lines of the law, to see that God was doing something new in his midst. He asked Joseph to be a part of this new thing, and Joseph did.”
...and finally, the rest of the Matthew text:
When the Magi had gone, a messenger from God came to Joseph in a dream. "Get up, take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child in order to kill him." So Joseph got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod."
Here, Joseph is told to make a hurried retreat into Egypt, and wait for the angel to come *again*, when it would be safe for him to go home. He literally gave up everything he was, everything he had, his home, his work, his reputation - *everything* - in order to do this incredible thing. He set out on a journey in a harsh land, where he could easily have been attacked by bandits. Desert nights are never warm. He had to take food for himself and Mary *and* the donkey. He knew where Bethlehem was, but then along comes God and says now go to Egypt. ...and do what? No idea, but he gets up and goes.
Here is the whole poem by Ann Weems:
Who put Joseph in the back of the stable?
Who dressed him in brown,
put a staff in his hand,
and told him to stand
in the back of the creche,
background for the magnificent light
of the Madonna?
God-chosen, this man Joseph was faithful
in spite of the gossip in Nazareth,
in spite of the danger from Herod.
This man, Joseph, listened to angels
and it was he who named the Child
Emmanuel.
Is this a man to be stuck for centuries
in the back of the stable?
Actually, Joseph probably stood in the doorway
guarding the mother and child
or greeting shepherds and kings.
When he wasn’t in the doorway,
he was probably urging Mary
to get some rest,
gently covering her with his cloak,
assuring her that he would watch the Child.
Actually, he probably picked the Child up in his arms
and walked him in the night,
patting him lovingly
until he closed his eyes.
This Christmas, let us give thanks to God
for this man of incredible faith
into whose care God placed
The Christ Child.
As a gesture of gratitude,
let’s put Joseph in the front of the stable
where he can guard and greet
and cast an occasional glance
at this Child who brought us life.
Sources:
1. Walter Murray, Applewood United Church, Mississauga, from the 2001 Gathering Worship Resources.
2. Rev. Joseph Harvard, First Presbyterian Church, Durham, North Carolina: from the December 23, 2007 sermon “Getting to the Front of the Stable.”
3. Ann Weems, ‘Getting to the Front of the Stable.’ in “Kneeling in Bethlehem”. Westminster John Knox Press, July 1996. Pp. 52-53.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Singing of Joy December 14, 2008
Singing of Joy A sermon based upon Luke 1:47-55
Movie clip - The Nativity Story
A couple of Christmases ago when this text came up, I told you the story of a friend of mine from Iran, who at 14 was married to her high school English teacher, a man twice her age. He and her parents came to an agreement, and she simply had to do it. So she was married at 14 and had her first child at 15. Shortly after her daughter was born her husband decided to go to school in the US, to get a PhD, and she had to go with him. She was terrified, she said - having to leave her village and go to a new country with a baby, not speaking English, not knowing anything about the culture or the world around her.
This is a very old practice, predating even the story of the nativity. Mary was betrothed to Joseph in an agreement made between him and her parents. What was her response? While I think the rest of the movie gets a little sappy from time to time, Mary’s reaction to being married off is less than enthusiastic. She is sullen, somewhat argumentative, and clearly doesn’t want to get married. Then, God intervenes and she becomes pregnant. She goes to be with her cousin, to spend some time thinking.
When Mary returns from visiting Elizabeth, and it is clear she is pregnant, her parents are angry, Joseph considers cancelling the agreement, and in fact she could be stoned. Of course she was terrified.
But somewhere in all this turmoil, there is a part of her which refuses to be put down or put aside. She is going to wear her pregnancy and wear it openly. She reaches a point where she believes that she is meant to have this child, for whatever reason - so knowing that she could be disowned by her family, cut off by Joseph, and even stoned for committing adultery, she still somehow finds faith to be open to the unprecedented event, and trust that God knows what will happen.
Perhaps she recognised that regardless of how it happened, the child is not at fault in any way. Perhaps her acceptance was a way of stating again the sanctity of all life. While the commandments said “No killing”, stoning was allowable for adultery, sending a woman away to live as a prostitute or beggar was considered appropriate. Culturally, women had little status. The religious “laws” which supported the cultural ethos were man-made, not God-given. Somewhere she gets the strength to trust God, and hold to her determination to have the baby. She moves from a sullen girl in a snit, to a strong woman of faith.
Into the text comes a song - lifted from the Hebrew Scriptures, the song of Hannah - not quite word for word, but close enough - words inserted 75 years later when the text was being written. We know Luke wrote this text, and he states right up front he is writing down what he has been told by someone else. So he doesn’t know whether or not Mary was happy - it’s a story, handed down by word of mouth and embellished along the way.
We can look at this on two levels: first, Mary herself and the cultural conditions she lived in. The text is a story of turning the recognised way of things upside down. God has given a gift - and not to the wealthy people one would expect a king to be born to, but to a young peasant girl in a backwater village in a tiny country under occupation. Her family are labourers - not quite untouchables, but close enough. People who make their living by manual labour are the bottom of the social and economic heap. So the one who is to free Israel from its oppression is being born to a nobody, nowhere. And Mary recognises that to God, that’s exactly the idea - to turn everyone’s preconceived notions upside down, and do something no one expects. In this turnabout, the rich are sent home with nothing, while the poor are fed; the proud are scattered, the mighty are taken down from their thrones. - and the most stunning part of all, God comes to a simple young girl who is to be married off by her parents against her will.
In the movie, Mary and Joseph encounter one of the old shepherds, on a cold night on their way to Bethlehem. The shepherd tells Mary “My father once told me God gives each one of us gift. Your gift is what you carry inside you.”
The great Reformers in the church didn’t give a lot of attention to Mary, and given that God’s grace was central to their faith, Mary probably should have had more attention. She illustrated that every one of us is a passive and virgin recipient of God’s calling. Christianity is a religion of what God has done for us and to us. Mary herself speaks of God gracing a “humble servant”.
But the idea is not that we remain passive recipients. While Mary received the gift, she then took an active role. God graces us so that we will be active and creative, but at the root of everything is God’s initiative and grace. Everything that is comes from God; every hope for the redemption of all things comes from God. If we think in these terms, how can we fail to realise that we are all Mary, made pregnant with the gifts of God’s grace.
In our lives, we tend to think that we are in control, we are in charge - or that we should be in control and in charge - and when things don’t go in our preconceived way, we panic. We use same approach for our politics, for our finances, for the running of our church, for everything. We have built up elaborate props around ourselves and our systems which we rely on. We pay lip service to God’s grace, but when it comes to the bottom line we think we are the ones who make everything work. We don’t want to do what God calls us into.
And so I hold up Mary, the humble servant - a young woman at the bottom of the social scale, selected by God to receive a great gift. Each of us at Glen Ayr is also to be a humble servant, and we have each been selected by God. We are individually, and collectively, the humble, barefoot recipients of a grace and a call that are the foundation of all we can ever hope to accomplish. Maybe God needs us to continue to sing the song of creation, which came down through the ages, through Mary, and more like her. Maybe raising our voices in joy for the grace of God giving us each a unique gift is our purpose. May it be so.
Movie clip - The Nativity Story
A couple of Christmases ago when this text came up, I told you the story of a friend of mine from Iran, who at 14 was married to her high school English teacher, a man twice her age. He and her parents came to an agreement, and she simply had to do it. So she was married at 14 and had her first child at 15. Shortly after her daughter was born her husband decided to go to school in the US, to get a PhD, and she had to go with him. She was terrified, she said - having to leave her village and go to a new country with a baby, not speaking English, not knowing anything about the culture or the world around her.
This is a very old practice, predating even the story of the nativity. Mary was betrothed to Joseph in an agreement made between him and her parents. What was her response? While I think the rest of the movie gets a little sappy from time to time, Mary’s reaction to being married off is less than enthusiastic. She is sullen, somewhat argumentative, and clearly doesn’t want to get married. Then, God intervenes and she becomes pregnant. She goes to be with her cousin, to spend some time thinking.
When Mary returns from visiting Elizabeth, and it is clear she is pregnant, her parents are angry, Joseph considers cancelling the agreement, and in fact she could be stoned. Of course she was terrified.
But somewhere in all this turmoil, there is a part of her which refuses to be put down or put aside. She is going to wear her pregnancy and wear it openly. She reaches a point where she believes that she is meant to have this child, for whatever reason - so knowing that she could be disowned by her family, cut off by Joseph, and even stoned for committing adultery, she still somehow finds faith to be open to the unprecedented event, and trust that God knows what will happen.
Perhaps she recognised that regardless of how it happened, the child is not at fault in any way. Perhaps her acceptance was a way of stating again the sanctity of all life. While the commandments said “No killing”, stoning was allowable for adultery, sending a woman away to live as a prostitute or beggar was considered appropriate. Culturally, women had little status. The religious “laws” which supported the cultural ethos were man-made, not God-given. Somewhere she gets the strength to trust God, and hold to her determination to have the baby. She moves from a sullen girl in a snit, to a strong woman of faith.
Into the text comes a song - lifted from the Hebrew Scriptures, the song of Hannah - not quite word for word, but close enough - words inserted 75 years later when the text was being written. We know Luke wrote this text, and he states right up front he is writing down what he has been told by someone else. So he doesn’t know whether or not Mary was happy - it’s a story, handed down by word of mouth and embellished along the way.
We can look at this on two levels: first, Mary herself and the cultural conditions she lived in. The text is a story of turning the recognised way of things upside down. God has given a gift - and not to the wealthy people one would expect a king to be born to, but to a young peasant girl in a backwater village in a tiny country under occupation. Her family are labourers - not quite untouchables, but close enough. People who make their living by manual labour are the bottom of the social and economic heap. So the one who is to free Israel from its oppression is being born to a nobody, nowhere. And Mary recognises that to God, that’s exactly the idea - to turn everyone’s preconceived notions upside down, and do something no one expects. In this turnabout, the rich are sent home with nothing, while the poor are fed; the proud are scattered, the mighty are taken down from their thrones. - and the most stunning part of all, God comes to a simple young girl who is to be married off by her parents against her will.
In the movie, Mary and Joseph encounter one of the old shepherds, on a cold night on their way to Bethlehem. The shepherd tells Mary “My father once told me God gives each one of us gift. Your gift is what you carry inside you.”
The great Reformers in the church didn’t give a lot of attention to Mary, and given that God’s grace was central to their faith, Mary probably should have had more attention. She illustrated that every one of us is a passive and virgin recipient of God’s calling. Christianity is a religion of what God has done for us and to us. Mary herself speaks of God gracing a “humble servant”.
But the idea is not that we remain passive recipients. While Mary received the gift, she then took an active role. God graces us so that we will be active and creative, but at the root of everything is God’s initiative and grace. Everything that is comes from God; every hope for the redemption of all things comes from God. If we think in these terms, how can we fail to realise that we are all Mary, made pregnant with the gifts of God’s grace.
In our lives, we tend to think that we are in control, we are in charge - or that we should be in control and in charge - and when things don’t go in our preconceived way, we panic. We use same approach for our politics, for our finances, for the running of our church, for everything. We have built up elaborate props around ourselves and our systems which we rely on. We pay lip service to God’s grace, but when it comes to the bottom line we think we are the ones who make everything work. We don’t want to do what God calls us into.
And so I hold up Mary, the humble servant - a young woman at the bottom of the social scale, selected by God to receive a great gift. Each of us at Glen Ayr is also to be a humble servant, and we have each been selected by God. We are individually, and collectively, the humble, barefoot recipients of a grace and a call that are the foundation of all we can ever hope to accomplish. Maybe God needs us to continue to sing the song of creation, which came down through the ages, through Mary, and more like her. Maybe raising our voices in joy for the grace of God giving us each a unique gift is our purpose. May it be so.
The Second Agreement: Dont Take Anything Personally Dec. 7, 2008
Earlier this week, a clergy friend related a story about a dinner at her congregation. She was away on a youth retreat, and received a call in the middle that one of the long-time members of the congregation had called a newer member, who happened to be gay, a faggot. Not only was it not in private, it was in front of the whole of the gathered community at dinner. The person who was so attacked has left the congregation after five years there. The person who made the comment has been taken to task by the rest of the congregational community, yet remains unrepentant, and claims entitlement due to long-term membership. The congregation is still reeling that their ideal of Christian community has been so damaged. Interestingly, even the other anti-gay people in the congregation have demanded that such discriminatory and poisonous behaviour not be allowed to continue.
Pretty hard not to take that personally, in fact, extremely hard. But the comment tells us a lot more about the person who made the comment, and about that person’s own issues. The damage to the congregation will take far longer to be repaired, and some will begin to wonder if they have been at fault.
One person’s poison affects an entire community. It is up to the community, of course, as to whether they will let the poison kill them or not.
A few years ago, as President of Conference, I chaired the committee which made decisions about the status of two clergy colleagues, both who happened to be people I also considered friends. They were removed from ministry, and placed on a disciplinary discontinued service list. These were agonising and painful decisions to make, and there were tears around the table as we made those decisions. I remember wondering how it was that people I had respected could get to such a point. But listening to the stories, I began to understand. They took themselves too seriously; they were not able to step back; they had lost the ability to recognise what were other people’s issues - and when there was criticism, they took it as personal attacks, and became defensive.
Well, somewhat extreme examples. What about at a level closer to home? My third child, when he moved here to Toronto, found that because his birthday fell mid-December, he was moved into Grade 4 from Grade 3 in the US. He railed and ranted - he shouldn’t be in Grade 4, he couldn’t do it, he was too young. For the rest of his life - even today - he will tell you that he has always been behind in life because he was forced to go into Grade 4, and his parents did the wrong thing. It has become one of the stories he tells himself about himself, and he took it so personally that it shaped how he sees himself still. Nothing positive that we say to him will change that.
At an even simpler level, what if a parent says to a child often enough “You are so stupid!” Or “You always have to cause trouble, don’t you?”, or “You were behind the door when the brains were handed out.” Eventually that is going to become the fabric of the stories this child believes, and all the child’s life will be played out in that context. They will take that with them as they become adults. The statements probably come out of our own fears about life, but we have laid them on our children who then internalise them. Because we are not impeccable in our words, with ourselves and with them, they learn to buy into it as well.
So, in terms of life in a congregational community, whose reason for being is to carry out God’s mission in the world, how does this play out? In any congregation, there are three major groups. There are those who take major leadership positions, and they are about five percent; there is a large group which comes mostly on Sundays for worship; and there is another small group of people who are minimally active. We all tend to think that what we see or hear on Sunday morning is who people really are. We tend to think we all see things the same way, like our worship the same way, have the same opinions. We tend to think we know each other well, because we come together maybe once or twice a week. Yet the reality is, every single one of us has a different opinion and a different point of view. We all come from different perspectives; the biggest problem is we come assuming that the church community is required to accept us regardless of what we do or say, and required to make us all happy.
Miguel Ruiz talks about the voices we hear in our minds - the many voices all saying many different things, and how we try to listen to them all and juggle them all. I have always found it interesting that we can hear all kinds of good things about ourselves, but as soon as there is one negative comment, we begin to obsess and feed on it - and the comment can not only paralyse us, it can shape us. Instead of looking realistically into ourselves and learning to discern what is really critical for each of us, we get hooked into what others say about us, or tell us about ourselves.
Now this isn’t an “I’m OK, you’re OK” kind of thing. It says clearly that all of us have issues, that we aren’t all OK. We have to honestly, and sometimes with pain, address our own issues; others have to do the same. But we don’t have to take on the issues of others as our own, and recognising that helps us to be free from some of the poison.
Jesus knew that the criticisms came from people who were made uncomfortable by him. We see Jesus, in the biblical stories, going into the desert for discernment; we see him going off alone to meditate; we see him being questioned and tested by the religious leaders; we see him being attacked by political leaders. Jesus learned to do good discernment in prayer and meditation, and was able to go all the way to the cross, without taking it personally.
Ruiz says that this agreement and the first, are the two most important - and that makes sense. First, if we are impeccable with our words, hurtful situations will be avoided. Second, even if others aren’t impeccable with their words, we are able to step back and recognise that what is going on is about them, not about us.
In the movie “Hook”, in which Robin Williams plays Peter Pan grown up, Peter has stopped believing, become an adult, married Wendy’s granddaughter and had children. He has listened to the voices of the world for so long that he has actually forgotten who he is. The Lost Boys don’t really believe he’s Peter Pan; he doesn’t believe it either. There is a wonderful scene where one of the Lost Boys takes Peter’s face between his hands and looks into his eyes - touches his face, looks him over, and then looks deep into his eyes again, and exclaims “You ARE in there, aren’t you! You are Peter Pan!”
Jesus talks about the “least of these”, and seeing him in the least. In other places he talks about loving ourselves. The question is, do we see Jesus in ourselves too? I think Miguel Ruiz is addressing that as well. We have listened to the voices that hold us back, drag us down, distract us from who we are.
When you go home today, go look in the mirror. Look deep into your own eyes. See the Jesus there. When you come together with the congregation again, look into their eyes. And I mean, really look. You ARE in there! Thanks be to God.
Areas of agreement we make:
Personal agreements: Our bodies and ourselves
Social agreements: Family and friends
Spiritual agreements: Life and God
Financial agreements: Work and career
What areas of your life present a challenge at the moment?
What is your reaction to those challenges?
Are you aware of what gives you the greatest joy?
What inspires you, makes your spirit soar?
Do you see Jesus in yourself when you look closely?
Pretty hard not to take that personally, in fact, extremely hard. But the comment tells us a lot more about the person who made the comment, and about that person’s own issues. The damage to the congregation will take far longer to be repaired, and some will begin to wonder if they have been at fault.
One person’s poison affects an entire community. It is up to the community, of course, as to whether they will let the poison kill them or not.
A few years ago, as President of Conference, I chaired the committee which made decisions about the status of two clergy colleagues, both who happened to be people I also considered friends. They were removed from ministry, and placed on a disciplinary discontinued service list. These were agonising and painful decisions to make, and there were tears around the table as we made those decisions. I remember wondering how it was that people I had respected could get to such a point. But listening to the stories, I began to understand. They took themselves too seriously; they were not able to step back; they had lost the ability to recognise what were other people’s issues - and when there was criticism, they took it as personal attacks, and became defensive.
Well, somewhat extreme examples. What about at a level closer to home? My third child, when he moved here to Toronto, found that because his birthday fell mid-December, he was moved into Grade 4 from Grade 3 in the US. He railed and ranted - he shouldn’t be in Grade 4, he couldn’t do it, he was too young. For the rest of his life - even today - he will tell you that he has always been behind in life because he was forced to go into Grade 4, and his parents did the wrong thing. It has become one of the stories he tells himself about himself, and he took it so personally that it shaped how he sees himself still. Nothing positive that we say to him will change that.
At an even simpler level, what if a parent says to a child often enough “You are so stupid!” Or “You always have to cause trouble, don’t you?”, or “You were behind the door when the brains were handed out.” Eventually that is going to become the fabric of the stories this child believes, and all the child’s life will be played out in that context. They will take that with them as they become adults. The statements probably come out of our own fears about life, but we have laid them on our children who then internalise them. Because we are not impeccable in our words, with ourselves and with them, they learn to buy into it as well.
So, in terms of life in a congregational community, whose reason for being is to carry out God’s mission in the world, how does this play out? In any congregation, there are three major groups. There are those who take major leadership positions, and they are about five percent; there is a large group which comes mostly on Sundays for worship; and there is another small group of people who are minimally active. We all tend to think that what we see or hear on Sunday morning is who people really are. We tend to think we all see things the same way, like our worship the same way, have the same opinions. We tend to think we know each other well, because we come together maybe once or twice a week. Yet the reality is, every single one of us has a different opinion and a different point of view. We all come from different perspectives; the biggest problem is we come assuming that the church community is required to accept us regardless of what we do or say, and required to make us all happy.
Miguel Ruiz talks about the voices we hear in our minds - the many voices all saying many different things, and how we try to listen to them all and juggle them all. I have always found it interesting that we can hear all kinds of good things about ourselves, but as soon as there is one negative comment, we begin to obsess and feed on it - and the comment can not only paralyse us, it can shape us. Instead of looking realistically into ourselves and learning to discern what is really critical for each of us, we get hooked into what others say about us, or tell us about ourselves.
Now this isn’t an “I’m OK, you’re OK” kind of thing. It says clearly that all of us have issues, that we aren’t all OK. We have to honestly, and sometimes with pain, address our own issues; others have to do the same. But we don’t have to take on the issues of others as our own, and recognising that helps us to be free from some of the poison.
Jesus knew that the criticisms came from people who were made uncomfortable by him. We see Jesus, in the biblical stories, going into the desert for discernment; we see him going off alone to meditate; we see him being questioned and tested by the religious leaders; we see him being attacked by political leaders. Jesus learned to do good discernment in prayer and meditation, and was able to go all the way to the cross, without taking it personally.
Ruiz says that this agreement and the first, are the two most important - and that makes sense. First, if we are impeccable with our words, hurtful situations will be avoided. Second, even if others aren’t impeccable with their words, we are able to step back and recognise that what is going on is about them, not about us.
In the movie “Hook”, in which Robin Williams plays Peter Pan grown up, Peter has stopped believing, become an adult, married Wendy’s granddaughter and had children. He has listened to the voices of the world for so long that he has actually forgotten who he is. The Lost Boys don’t really believe he’s Peter Pan; he doesn’t believe it either. There is a wonderful scene where one of the Lost Boys takes Peter’s face between his hands and looks into his eyes - touches his face, looks him over, and then looks deep into his eyes again, and exclaims “You ARE in there, aren’t you! You are Peter Pan!”
Jesus talks about the “least of these”, and seeing him in the least. In other places he talks about loving ourselves. The question is, do we see Jesus in ourselves too? I think Miguel Ruiz is addressing that as well. We have listened to the voices that hold us back, drag us down, distract us from who we are.
When you go home today, go look in the mirror. Look deep into your own eyes. See the Jesus there. When you come together with the congregation again, look into their eyes. And I mean, really look. You ARE in there! Thanks be to God.
Areas of agreement we make:
Personal agreements: Our bodies and ourselves
Social agreements: Family and friends
Spiritual agreements: Life and God
Financial agreements: Work and career
What areas of your life present a challenge at the moment?
What is your reaction to those challenges?
Are you aware of what gives you the greatest joy?
What inspires you, makes your spirit soar?
Do you see Jesus in yourself when you look closely?
Tables, Fonts, Pulpits November 30, 2008
Who owns a congregation? Members of a Board will likely answer that they represent the members of a congregation, or that they have a role as ministers alongside the pastor, or that they are responsible for the building and funds of the congregation. All of those, of course, are true to some extent, but not the most important answer.
Members of a congregation are not owners in the same way stockholders own corporations. So who owns a congregation? Jesus? God? Perhaps. But I put to you that the owner of a congregation is its purpose.
So what is the purpose of a congregation? It seems to me the purpose of a congregation is ‘changed lives’. Whose lives do we wish to change, and in what way? In order to change other lives do we also need to change ourselves? Management consultant Peter Drucker says that a congregation which limits its purpose to pleasing all the members falls well short of its true purpose. He says the job of congregational leaders is NOT to give the members what they want - because that says that the mission of the congregation is only to current members. The role of the congregational leaders is to teach people to want the things they don’t want - and the problem with that, he says, is that future members generally don’t vote - and if they did they would make up the majority. That means that not only are we seeking to transform the lives of people around us, but we are seeking to transform our own lives as well.
The role of the leaders is to discern what it believes the congregation needs (not what it wants, necessarily) and try to put that into practice. What is the role of the clergy? If you go by my job description, 60% of it is worship and preaching preparation. Why that? Because worship is the place we come together as a discipling community, and preaching is to educate, encourage, comfort, and provoke. The role of clergy is two-fold: to empower the leadership and the members of the congregation to discern, engage in, and live out, the purpose of the church; and to preach strategically in such a way that the congregation learns and continues to grow on its journey to another place. The problem is, that sometimes transformation feels like chaos, since we don’t really know where God is leading us till we get there - and like children we continually are asking “are we there yet?”, or even more “I don’t wanna go ” Remember that some of the Israelites got fed up with Moses and his purported vision, and wanted to go back to where they were comfortable.
So when we start talking about the purpose of a faith community - to change lives - we also have to talk about the message we give in our space. If you are a new person, and come to a church where the doors are closed or you can’t find the entrance, everyone sits in the same place all the time, the table and the minister are elevated *above* the people, and sit on thronelike chairs, the choir and musician are shunted off to one side, and the font is shunted off to the other where we forget it most of the time - what message are we giving about ourselves and our role.
Ken Gallinger, minister at Lawrence Park Community Church, talks about their reassessment of the building in relation to their perceived purpose. While the front of the church faces a main street, the main entrance is down a side alley. They realised that in itself sent a message about who was welcome and who wasn't. In rebuilding, they decided to put the front door on the front, making it mostly glass, open to everyone, with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, coffee available all the time - in short, a place which said "You are welcome here, make yourself at home."
I am going to take you - yet again - on a little trip through church history - because every single thing done inside and outside our churches has come from a particular cultural and theological understanding of the church.
God’s command to Moses was to build an altar of stone or earth, untouched by human handiwork. It was to be called an altar because it was used for the sacrifices and burning of animals. BUT the altar which Moses is commanded to build is NOT to be approached by steps, but is to be of the earth and from the earth, and accessible by all the people.
In Exodus, precise instructions are given for what is now the table - it is to be of acacia wood, square in shape - and God commands that is it to be a symbol of God’s presence among the people. Why square? So that there is no front or back - and still accessible by all.
Instead of being a static holy place where people go, the sanctuary is moveable - it goes with the people, and is housed (when they stop) in a tent. God clearly goes *with* the people. No building, even. The instructions for both the Ark to house the tablets, and the construction of the tent, were given so that it was clear to the gathered community, that God was *among* the people.
Exodus demonstrates that the idea of “holy place” takes on a whole new dynamic in the concept of God travelling with the people to meet them wherever they come to rest - and crucial to this understanding is the experience of journey.
Well, from table to temple. 1200 years prior to the birth of Jesus, Israel had got tired of being pushed around by other nations, and the antics of the sons of Samuel as the judges, with their hands in the till. The solution was a monarchy, they thought - and against Samuel’s better advice away they went. Three kings - Saul, David and Solomon - who decided to enshrine the Ark in a permanent place, and finalise a union of church and state. Neither the prophet Nathan, nor the strong indignation of God, were enough to deter the kings. In the end Solomon built the temple, and it became the ONLY place where sacrifice could take place, and therefore had to be a place of pilgrimage. Furthermore, because of the number of holy spaces from the door to the Ark, a rigid hierarchical system was set up in which the people could no longer approach God.
The new followers of Jesus - people of the Way, as they called themselves - returned to the understanding of God being among the people, - and for almost four hundred years the new groups functioned as house churches, meals around a common table, and all were ministers - with their supervisor Paul stopping by once a year or so. The first Christians borrowed as much as possible, and travelled light. The home had been the place of blessing and prayer for the Jews, and it is significant that Jesus used those very familiar home experiences into a prophetic act with common bread and wine.
Then along came Constantine, an unbaptised non-Christian emperor, who made Christianity the state religion. - and for the model of the church building chose neither temple NOR synagogue, but the basilica, or hall of the king. However, even in this space, the table was set in a central location where the people could surround it - and was square. Something new was added, however - a particular liturgical space for other functions. So the pulpit stood in the exact middle of the assembly, and the font was in a separate baptistry. Little by little steps and a chancel appeared, the priestly functions were taken from the people and appropriated by an exclusive group; the people’s participation came and went, buildings became more and more decorative - and so too did the priestly robes. Worship was conducted in a language which was increasingly more and more archaic.
Well, let’s jump to recent years. The church, as a whole, has begun looking at our response to what we hear both God and the world saying. It is known as the Liturgical Movement, and has in fact led to quite extraordinary renewal of worship and witness in the church on a scale not seen since the Reformation. The movement began in Belgium in the 1900's, and has continued to grow - culminating in ground-breaking agreements in 1988 among all denominations in the World Council of Churches. The liturgical movement says we must regularly reassess our purpose as churches, as well as our liturgies, and our buildings. It says we have to address God in language and forms appropriate to our current times, to do justice to new theological insights and God’s daily revelation.
The process of reordering helps us to discover who we are as a community of faith, and where we came from. The thing that will make our house of the church special, different and fun, will be the story it tells: first, the story common to all Christians, the life and work of Jesus and the journey with God; second, the story of this particular group of people and its pilgrimage in faith. So, alongside preaching and education, the internal arrangement of our building has to be used as a teaching aid.
Richard Giles, in this lovely book, points out that the reordering of any space has to focus on how the whole assembly can give full expression to its life in the risen Jesus - because that is, in fact, the reason we are here. In the gathered assembly, in the United Church, the table and the font are central to our life. He points out that the table should stand on the floor, in the middle of the worshipping space - a level approach to the table. The font should be in another room altogether - a room designed for that purpose - so that it does not become simply another piece of furniture shunted to one side when not needed. The breaking open of the Word is intended to be at a reading desk, in the middle of the assembly, and facing east. It should be neither a platform, nor an enclosed space. Choirs, he says, should be clearly a part of the worshipping community and not set apart in any way.
Whether or not we realise it, everything we do has both a theological reason, and makes a theological statement. As we in this community try to discern purpose, we need also to engage in review, reevaluation, and reordering.
Members of a congregation are not owners in the same way stockholders own corporations. So who owns a congregation? Jesus? God? Perhaps. But I put to you that the owner of a congregation is its purpose.
So what is the purpose of a congregation? It seems to me the purpose of a congregation is ‘changed lives’. Whose lives do we wish to change, and in what way? In order to change other lives do we also need to change ourselves? Management consultant Peter Drucker says that a congregation which limits its purpose to pleasing all the members falls well short of its true purpose. He says the job of congregational leaders is NOT to give the members what they want - because that says that the mission of the congregation is only to current members. The role of the congregational leaders is to teach people to want the things they don’t want - and the problem with that, he says, is that future members generally don’t vote - and if they did they would make up the majority. That means that not only are we seeking to transform the lives of people around us, but we are seeking to transform our own lives as well.
The role of the leaders is to discern what it believes the congregation needs (not what it wants, necessarily) and try to put that into practice. What is the role of the clergy? If you go by my job description, 60% of it is worship and preaching preparation. Why that? Because worship is the place we come together as a discipling community, and preaching is to educate, encourage, comfort, and provoke. The role of clergy is two-fold: to empower the leadership and the members of the congregation to discern, engage in, and live out, the purpose of the church; and to preach strategically in such a way that the congregation learns and continues to grow on its journey to another place. The problem is, that sometimes transformation feels like chaos, since we don’t really know where God is leading us till we get there - and like children we continually are asking “are we there yet?”, or even more “I don’t wanna go ” Remember that some of the Israelites got fed up with Moses and his purported vision, and wanted to go back to where they were comfortable.
So when we start talking about the purpose of a faith community - to change lives - we also have to talk about the message we give in our space. If you are a new person, and come to a church where the doors are closed or you can’t find the entrance, everyone sits in the same place all the time, the table and the minister are elevated *above* the people, and sit on thronelike chairs, the choir and musician are shunted off to one side, and the font is shunted off to the other where we forget it most of the time - what message are we giving about ourselves and our role.
Ken Gallinger, minister at Lawrence Park Community Church, talks about their reassessment of the building in relation to their perceived purpose. While the front of the church faces a main street, the main entrance is down a side alley. They realised that in itself sent a message about who was welcome and who wasn't. In rebuilding, they decided to put the front door on the front, making it mostly glass, open to everyone, with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, coffee available all the time - in short, a place which said "You are welcome here, make yourself at home."
I am going to take you - yet again - on a little trip through church history - because every single thing done inside and outside our churches has come from a particular cultural and theological understanding of the church.
God’s command to Moses was to build an altar of stone or earth, untouched by human handiwork. It was to be called an altar because it was used for the sacrifices and burning of animals. BUT the altar which Moses is commanded to build is NOT to be approached by steps, but is to be of the earth and from the earth, and accessible by all the people.
In Exodus, precise instructions are given for what is now the table - it is to be of acacia wood, square in shape - and God commands that is it to be a symbol of God’s presence among the people. Why square? So that there is no front or back - and still accessible by all.
Instead of being a static holy place where people go, the sanctuary is moveable - it goes with the people, and is housed (when they stop) in a tent. God clearly goes *with* the people. No building, even. The instructions for both the Ark to house the tablets, and the construction of the tent, were given so that it was clear to the gathered community, that God was *among* the people.
Exodus demonstrates that the idea of “holy place” takes on a whole new dynamic in the concept of God travelling with the people to meet them wherever they come to rest - and crucial to this understanding is the experience of journey.
Well, from table to temple. 1200 years prior to the birth of Jesus, Israel had got tired of being pushed around by other nations, and the antics of the sons of Samuel as the judges, with their hands in the till. The solution was a monarchy, they thought - and against Samuel’s better advice away they went. Three kings - Saul, David and Solomon - who decided to enshrine the Ark in a permanent place, and finalise a union of church and state. Neither the prophet Nathan, nor the strong indignation of God, were enough to deter the kings. In the end Solomon built the temple, and it became the ONLY place where sacrifice could take place, and therefore had to be a place of pilgrimage. Furthermore, because of the number of holy spaces from the door to the Ark, a rigid hierarchical system was set up in which the people could no longer approach God.
The new followers of Jesus - people of the Way, as they called themselves - returned to the understanding of God being among the people, - and for almost four hundred years the new groups functioned as house churches, meals around a common table, and all were ministers - with their supervisor Paul stopping by once a year or so. The first Christians borrowed as much as possible, and travelled light. The home had been the place of blessing and prayer for the Jews, and it is significant that Jesus used those very familiar home experiences into a prophetic act with common bread and wine.
Then along came Constantine, an unbaptised non-Christian emperor, who made Christianity the state religion. - and for the model of the church building chose neither temple NOR synagogue, but the basilica, or hall of the king. However, even in this space, the table was set in a central location where the people could surround it - and was square. Something new was added, however - a particular liturgical space for other functions. So the pulpit stood in the exact middle of the assembly, and the font was in a separate baptistry. Little by little steps and a chancel appeared, the priestly functions were taken from the people and appropriated by an exclusive group; the people’s participation came and went, buildings became more and more decorative - and so too did the priestly robes. Worship was conducted in a language which was increasingly more and more archaic.
Well, let’s jump to recent years. The church, as a whole, has begun looking at our response to what we hear both God and the world saying. It is known as the Liturgical Movement, and has in fact led to quite extraordinary renewal of worship and witness in the church on a scale not seen since the Reformation. The movement began in Belgium in the 1900's, and has continued to grow - culminating in ground-breaking agreements in 1988 among all denominations in the World Council of Churches. The liturgical movement says we must regularly reassess our purpose as churches, as well as our liturgies, and our buildings. It says we have to address God in language and forms appropriate to our current times, to do justice to new theological insights and God’s daily revelation.
The process of reordering helps us to discover who we are as a community of faith, and where we came from. The thing that will make our house of the church special, different and fun, will be the story it tells: first, the story common to all Christians, the life and work of Jesus and the journey with God; second, the story of this particular group of people and its pilgrimage in faith. So, alongside preaching and education, the internal arrangement of our building has to be used as a teaching aid.
Richard Giles, in this lovely book, points out that the reordering of any space has to focus on how the whole assembly can give full expression to its life in the risen Jesus - because that is, in fact, the reason we are here. In the gathered assembly, in the United Church, the table and the font are central to our life. He points out that the table should stand on the floor, in the middle of the worshipping space - a level approach to the table. The font should be in another room altogether - a room designed for that purpose - so that it does not become simply another piece of furniture shunted to one side when not needed. The breaking open of the Word is intended to be at a reading desk, in the middle of the assembly, and facing east. It should be neither a platform, nor an enclosed space. Choirs, he says, should be clearly a part of the worshipping community and not set apart in any way.
Whether or not we realise it, everything we do has both a theological reason, and makes a theological statement. As we in this community try to discern purpose, we need also to engage in review, reevaluation, and reordering.
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