Jeremiah 33: 14-18 -- 2 December 2012 - Advent 1

Today is the Sunday of Hope and there is LOTS I want to say to you about the central and amazing power of hope in our lives.

I find that much that is written about hope is written from a very theoretical standpoint, exploring Hope as a construct within philosophy, sociology or anthropology.   Even the scriptures given for this first Sunday of Hope can tend to keep us in that speculative realm, viewing Hope as something that resides in a distant promise that the final resolution of life as we know it, will be a return of Christ and the unveiling of a new heaven and a new earth.

But for me, Hope is something we need every day; right now, not just on the horizon of eternity.  It’s the key ingredient to a day where everything is going wrong.  It’s the motivator when our big plans fail.  It’s the comforter when we lose a loved one. It’s the sustaining light when life starts to be sopped in by hopelessness.   And, most importantly, Hope is always there, even when we can only see disappointment, and loss, and regret.

Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of When bad things happen to good people, has written a wonderful book entitled Overcoming Life’s Disappointments.  In this book, Rabbi Kushner uses the life of Moses to examine the way that God brings us forward when things turn sour.  Perhaps the high point of this book, for me, was Kushner’s  re-framing of the encounter in the 3^rd chapter of Exodus between Moses and God at the burning bush.  This is the time where Moses asked God, “what shall we call you? What is your name?”  and God replies,  “ I AM who I AM”.

I’ve always loved this scripture, because it reminds us that God is not defined by a particular function - God is more about “being” than “doing”.  But Rabbi Kushner (p.15) takes this text in a different direction entirely, radically changing my understanding of the nature of God.   He calls the Hebrew in this scripture “virtually untranslatable” with most translators going for “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be” but in reality the Hebrew is more like “I be” or “I am being.” Kushner notes that elsewhere in scripture, these words are translated, “I am with you.”  Think of that for a moment.  When God grants humanity that one direct, physical manifestation - a burning bush - and is asked, “what is your name?”, the answer is, “my name is – I am with you.”

Could it be, then, that the core of our relationship with God is not so much love, or justice, or peace, or guidance, or deliverance?  Could it be that all of those things are wonderful manifestations of God’s glory, but the very core of our relationship with God is simply that “God is with us”?   The idea of God’s self-identification being “my name is – I am with you” brings my theology of hope to a whole new level.

From the fall of 2000 until this summer, I worked at a school for gifted learners.   The societal view of giftedness typically figures that a gifted program would simply scoop the kids with the best marks so they could go off and be smart together.  But my understanding of giftedness, and the principles under which our school was founded, bears little resemblance to that.

Yes, gifted children have a great capacity for academic learning, but it’s the intensity of their inner world that defines them as a group.  Their curiosity is intense,  their creativity is intense, their interests and hobbies are intensely held, their attention span and their ability to synthesize disparate ideas are unusually strong, their need to understand is through the roof.   But what happens when that intensity bumps up against the inevitable curves and roadblocks of life?  What happens when there is not enough time to make things perfect?  What happens when the world around you fails to understand a deep concept that you mastered in mere moments? What happens when you cannot make sense of something that matters deeply to you? 

Working in a gifted population, the number one goal is not academic excellence, it’s the building of resilience.   Resilience helps gifted kids to develop a toolbox to help them figure out what to do next when their passionate intensity is thwarted.  And that’s true for any of us.  When we believe passionately in something – in a dream we are pursuing, in a relationship we expect to be free of betrayal, in an investment we’ve sunk everything into – we need to have a way to move forward when there is a stumble or unexpected development.

There’s any number of educational or developmental strategies to help us build resilience, but I come back to the words of Harold Kushner:  at the very heart of God, is this reality – GOD IS WITH US.  For no matter how much we were counting on that dream, no matter how much we trusted that relationship, no matter how much our future relied on those dollars, the power of God’s love is greater.   And that’s true whether we picture God as a heavenly being whom we can talk to, or as the life-force of the cosmos.  The only building block truly needed for resilience, the source of all hope, is that in all things, God is with us.    

When I ponder the gift of hope, there are two things I want to do with it.  First off is good old fashioned praise, I want to thank God with my whole being for the gift of hope.  But the second thing is, I pray that the gift of divine hope could be a strong and recognized force within everyone’s life.  

In particular, from my experience working at a school, and from observing my own extended family, I see a huge population of youth and young adults who have grown up without any sense of a divine presence in their lives.   Now, this is certainly not a new problem – even when I was growing up, ours was one of the VERY few households in our neighbourhood that went to Church on Sundays, and God-talk was reserved for those with very narrow religious views - but these days, I do see a diminished sense that life has a divine context as well as a human context.   On the upside, social media like Facebook have increased the amount of support that youth and young adults can find through various circles of friends, but the downside is that those same circles of friends can turn on you in a huge, fickle wave. That cannot be the source of one’s hope.    

What I want to offer the age group of my own son and daughters is a sense (a) that God is NOT all about judgment and (b) God is the ever-present power that lives within you and beyond you, and keeps you moving in positive, life-giving directions.   I want to offer them the gift of God’s gracious gift of resilience, so that life’s extreme pressures and extreme disappointments are seen as being held in the palm of God’s hand, and don’t point toward violence or self-numbing behaviours or suicide.  I want to remove any obstacles that I or we have put between our children and their God, so that the force of the divine may be more easily seen and embraced and loved. 

I don’t need them to demonstrate their walk with God in familiar or approved ways – in fact, my kids’ generation is already way more adept at working for social change than my buddies and I ever were, and there is a segment deeply involved in all manner of spiritual questing.  What I do desperately want for them is to know that at a cosmic level and at the most personal level, they are always companioned by a caring God who knows their greatest need and their greatest capacity for love.   

If there is one message I want all of us to bring forward from today, is an understanding that the very essence of God, is God’s presence with us at all times.  No matter what the disappointment, we do have an innate resilience to find a new way forward, because the holy one is always in our midst and in our hearts.   And while I’ve been speaking mainly about the disappointments and curve-balls of daily living, there is a bigger aspect as well to this notion of hope.  

I realize that in much of this sermon, I’ve been speaking from the comfortable position of someone living in the northern hemisphere, for whom emotional or financial challenges may be the greatest challenges faced in a day.  With that being the case, I cannot leave today’s message about hope without at least touching on the  32^nd and 33^rd chapters of Jeremiah, where we hear some remarkably hopeful declarations in the midst of turmoil.   In those days, the nation of Judah was on the verge of being defeated by King Nebuchadnezzar, and the Jewish people would soon be exiled to Babylon.   Again and again in these two chapters, in the face of external pressure and weak internal leadership, Jeremiah proclaims God’s promise, that the punishment being endured at the hands of the Babylonians would not be permanent.   So when we hear today’s reading, promising a descendant from the line of David who will bring peace and righteousness to the people, it’s not an isolated proclamation.  Through his actions, and through the words given to him by God, Jeremiah consistently delivered a promise of hope to a people under siege.

The message of hope, given by God through Jeremiah, was extremely important to the nation of Judah in those difficult days; it has shaped our understanding of Jesus as Messiah, the holy one who delivers us from all hopelessness; and it is still being heard in all its fullness today by people facing every bit as much pressure as the Babylonians were exerting way back when.   When the stakes are high – when Christian minorities in nations all around the globe are facing challenges to their very existence  – God’s ongoing, loving, powerful presence is THE hope that gives shape to each day.

Whether it’s the life-and-death hopes of Jeremiah 33, or the “bounce-back” hopes of coping with daily challenges or disappointments, God is always the one named  “I am with you.”  Friends in Christ, in the moments ahead, as we share the meal of hope that Christ shared with his frightened followers, and in the days ahead, as we engage the challenges of daily living, know that we are not alone – God is with us.  Thanks be to God. 

Works Cited:

Kushner, Harold S. Overcoming Life’s Disappointments. NYC: Knopf, 2006. 

For some fun and practical tips on Resilience, see

Salmansohn, Karen.  The Bounce Back Book: how to thrive in the face of adversity, setbacks, and losses.   NYC: Workman, 2007.

© 2012 Rev. Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB

Revelation 1: 4-8 -- 25 November 2012 - Reign of Christ

 

As most of you know, for a dozen years I worked on the support staff at a school.  For about half of that time, one of my jobs was arranging for substitute teachers.

Parts of sub booking were fun-ish, but for the most part it stunk, because sub booking was the first thing I did in the morning, and the last thing before winding down and getting ready for bed.  When my alarm went at 6:40 AM, the first thing I did was dial in to the sub line to check if any teachers had phoned in sick overnight.  If they had, I started phoning subs asap.  And at night, I would check the sub line up to 9:30 PM – even if I was out at something -  to see if there were any calls saying, “oh boy, I can’t imagine being well enough to come in to work tomorrow.”  If a sub was needed, I started calling right then and would keep calling well past 10 PM, because it is fifty times easier finding a sub the night before than at ten to seven  the next morning, and if I left it till the morning, it was yours truly who would pay the consequences.  

Without intending to, I had allowed sub booking to become the Alpha and Omega of my days, eroding my sense of self one school day at a time.  Eventually I developed some new, helpful habits that brought God into that start and finish of the day, but it took a long time to get that straightened out in my spirit.

A lot of people in the throes of addiction could likely relate to this “daily Alpha and Omega” stuff.  Regardless of your drug of choice, getting high with that drug is likely the first thought you have in the morning, and last thought – or at least the last thought you can recall - at night.   With addiction, the whole day is a series of Alphas and Omegas: acting out with your substance of choice, experiencing whatever “high” it is, feeling profound remorse or a huge chemical crash, while simultaneously seeking the thrill of the next high. Before this drink is even finished, the next one is being craved; winning the jackpot has a short-lived thrill because there are other jackpots to be won right now.  Whether it’s the next drink of alcohol, the next hit of drugs, the next sexual tryst, or the next VLT jackpot, people living with addictions are well-acquainted with something taking over and becoming the Alpha and Omega of their days.  And Alpha and Omega it shall remain, unless he or she seeks help to break the cycle.

I have a bag full of paraphernalia of a much more gentle nature.  (Unload an entire bag of Saskatchewan Roughrider fan-wear).  Now, I’m a reasonably well-adjusted sports fan, which is a good thing given that my team played its last game of the year two weeks ago… but I can tell you, for some of my watermelon-wearing compatriots, there’s nothing “well-adjusted” about it.  I know countless people whose entire week is absolutely ruined if the boys in green lose on the weekend, and you’ve likely heard of the disgusting treatment of former Rider heroes if they end up playing someplace else and even hint that they’re happy to be gone from Regina.  But us “green fans” are certainly not alone in letting our cheers get the better of us. Think of the rioting in Vancouver, or the LA Dodger fan who beat a SF Giants fan senseless after a baseball game a couple of seasons ago, not to mention worldwide soccer fan hooliganism.  Whether it’s an out-of-control connection to a sports team, or a hobby that has taken on a life of its own, or a fondness for shopping that has morphed into hoarding, there are all kinds of recreation activities that can cross the line from “fun aspect of my life” to “domineering presence which I allow to control my activities and my actions.”  Happily waving the team banner can turn into Alpha and Omega before we know it.

Today is Reign of Christ Sunday – the final Sunday of the Christian year, before we embark on the season of Advent.   Formerly known as “Christ the King” Sunday, it is a time to examine the larger and sometimes unsettling consequences of Christ:  the eternal meaning of Christ, afterlife and second coming.   In the spirit of that deep examination, one line of one of the scriptures kept calling out to me this week: Revelation 1: 8, “’I am the Alpha and Omega’ says the Lord God Almighty, who is, who was, and who is to come.”   Alpha and Omega: the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, the beginning and the end, our Present… our past… our future.  That is a mighty big claim on God’s part!

This idea of the Alpha and Omega is something that is extremely personal, but is also something huge, on which the entirety of the universe depends.   There are the little Alphas and Omegas: how we organize our days, what we give our time and attention to, what we choose to be foundational in our moments and our days.  Let’s call that our Daily Alpha and Omega. But let’s go one size bigger than that. 

Think not of how you spend a moment, or a day, but how you frame the span of your earthly life.  Here again, we hear the word of the Lord saying, “I am the Alpha and Omega, who is, and was, and is to come.”  This we might call, our Lifespan Alpha and Omega.

A number of religious traditions speak of a Divine “source and destination.” In Buddhism’s Tibetan Book of the Dead, or Hinduism’s Bhagavad Gita, there is the sense of Karma and reincarnation, in which the cycle of life is repeated on a higher or lower scale as a consequence of our actions.  That repeated life-cycle functions as both source and destination for the life now being lived.  Or if we look back 12 or 13 centuries to Celtic Christian symbolism, we see the repeated use of circles and knots, which adorn the cross as symbols of infinity or eternity.  The idea of there being a unified source and destination of our souls is widespread across the religions of the world; for us as Christians, we articulate this as it was put in the 1^st chapter of Revelation:  God, or Christ, is “the one who is, who was, and who is to come”. 

Over the years, it has been a blessing to spend time with a number of people who were in the later stages of palliative care.  They were nearing death, and they knew it.  Something that has struck me, time and again, is how peaceful the process tends to be, especially for people of faith.   If life has revealed for them a sense that God was around long before they came into being, and will be there eternally thereafter, the transition is so much easier than if they’re functioning from a worldview that sees life as purely linear, with a beginning, and an end, and that’s that.   Being in the presence of people with such sure and confident faith as death approaches, is one of the true gifts of life and ministry in Christian community.

But accepting God as the Alpha and Omega of one’s days is not just something that can change the way we approach death;  it can have a profound affect on how we approach life. Twenty-five years ago, on a hot, dusty road on the island of Mindoro, a young Filipino pastor told me the story of his life with Christ.  He was doing tremendously dangerous work, organizing tribal people to move forward in their lives, in spite of relentless pressure and threats from the local corporate landowners.  Pastor Rey was literally in the line of fire, but when I asked him if that scared him, he knew what to say: “I have already died to sin and have been risen with Christ.  I gave my life to Jesus, so who can take my life from me?”  And trust me, for pastor Rey these were no mere words.  Christ was his Alpha and Omega, the one who is, and was, and is to come, as he brought the powerful, disruptive love of Christ to the life challenges of the Mangyan tribal people.   

On the small scale, our daily Alpha and Omega does matter: how we organize our day, the things we give power to.  On the larger scale, our lifespan Alpha and Omega also clearly matters:  whether we have embraced a sense that God is there from birth, to beyond death. There is at least one more sense I would like to explore, this one WAY larger than our lifespan: what we might call the cosmic Alpha and Omega.

From the writings of ancient mystics, to the philosophy of Teilhard de Chardin in the mid 1950s, to the popular theology of Matthew Fox in the 1980s, the idea of the “Cosmic Christ” challenges us to view God or, in this case, the Christ, as a sort of pre-Alpha and post-Omega.  To be honest, I have had a hard time wrapping my mind around much of the concept, but recently came across a video interview with Father Richard Rohr which I found very helpful (and I’ll share the link on the Church blog).     

Basically, the idea of the Cosmic Christ is that Christ existed from all eternity.   If that sounds familiar, it should: in the first chapter of John’s gospel we read “Before the world was created, the Word already existed; the Word was with God, and was the same as God.  From the very beginning the Word was with God… [then] The Word became flesh and, full of grace and truth, lived among us.  We saw his glory, the glory which he received as the Father’s only Son.”  (John 1: 1, 14).  This same idea shows up in Colossians 1:15-16, “Christ is the visible likeness of the invisible God…. Through him God created everything in heaven and on earth”, and again in Ephesians  1:4, “Even before the world was made, God had already chosen us to be his through our union with Christ.”

Christ, then, is seen as an aspect of or close companion to God’s own eternal existence.   Jesus Christ is the human revelation of this eternal reality.  To use the words of Richard Rohr, “the Christ is ‘born’ the moment that God decides to show himself, the moment God decides to materialize.  Now, modern science would call that the Big Bang.  The Big Bang is the birth of the Christ, 14.5 billion years ago – and this material manifestation has been revealing the glory of God, the nature of God, for at least 14.5 billion years.  That’s the cosmic Christ. (4.34) In a moment of time, [2000 years ago] this cosmic Christ is revealed for us in a human person, that we could see and touch and hear and listen to and fall in love with.”

This Cosmic Christ, he says, (5.20) gives us  “a much more immense understanding of salvation, of how God is revealing and loving through everything that is; … salvation isn’t just a human concept, it’s a historical concept, it’s a global concept, God is liberating and loving through everything that God created… “  Elsewhere, Rohr states that Christ didn’t come to earth to save or fix something that was broken;  Christ came to earth in human form to embody the process of love that moves all life forward.   

One of my favourite quotes from the Rohr video is when he says (10.30) “if there’s one God, one truth, one reality, religion and science have to end up saying the same thing.”  Citing light, then, as the only constant in the universe, he posits that “light” may very well be another word for “Spirit”. (13.18) “The cosmic Christ, [then]  is the light that fills all things since the beginning of time…  [the Cosmic Christ] invites us into bigger worlds by love, by something bigger, more beautiful, more attractive…and that’s the function of beauty, that’s the function of truth, and it’s the function of all goodness.”

I have to say that Rohr’s presentation of the Cosmic Christ has whetted my appetite for more.  I have long struggled to find a way to make sense of an infinite, eternal God alongside an earthly existence which had a beginning and will have an end, and the idea of an eternal Christ who has revealed God to us ever since God separated light from darkness, makes a lot of sense to me.  This notion of a Divine source and revealer of Life and Love, eternally present before and after what we could call “time”, moves us one giant step bigger in our understanding of the Holy One as Alpha and Omega.

No two of us come here with the same precise needs this morning.  Some of us may be frustrated by addictions, or misaligned aspects of daily life; some of us likely brought fears about what happens to us when we die; some of us may have strong understandings of the cosmos and are seeking ways to articulate that.  With that diversity of needs in our midst, I leave you this morning with these three entry points to examining and embracing the Alpha and Omega nature of God.  Whether you’re at the point of developing healthy habits to bring you closer to God; or are searching for some deeper understanding of your lifespan relative to God; or are spurred forward by the academically challenging notion of the cosmic Christ; I trust that your journey will be one of great interest and new discovery.  Most definitely, as you delve in, however you choose to do that, you will be doing so with the loving, caring, supporting love of God, our source and our destination.  Amen.

 

Video link: Fr. Richard Rohr, in conversation with Msgr. Walter Nolan, “The Catholic Corner” – posted Jan 2011  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LYQQO5uFtA

For an interesting United Church “WonderCafe” discussion on the Cosmic Christ, http://www.wondercafe.ca/discussion/religion-and-faith/cosmic-christ-would-someone-explain-concept

And, for more on reincarnation,
http://www.gita-society.com/bhagavad-gita-section4/4_reincarnation.htm#5

© 2012 Rev. Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB

Hebrews 9: 24-28 -- 18 November 2012

 

One of the many things I appreciate about this congregation, is your openness to other religious and spiritual traditions.  Many of you have knowledge and expertise decades beyond mine in the ways of Eastern Religions, Yoga, Tai Chi, aboriginal spirituality, European mysticism and the like, and it informs your faith lives in complex and varied ways.  Furthermore, the extensive world travels of many of you have moved this relationship with other faiths and other peoples out of the theoretical realm, and into real-live person-to-person relationships. In a world where religious divisions have many parts of the world, including the middle east, in the grips of war and economic aggression, any effort we make to reach out to other religious or spiritual traditions is to be embraced as a force for good in the world.  

And yet… there are edges where our beliefs are opposed to those of others, and their beliefs contradict ours.    Today’s reading from the book of Hebrews intentionally places itself right in the middle of one of those zones, stating a point of theology that really is THE dividing point between Judaism, and the Christian subgroup that emerged from it.

We have so much in common with our Jewish sisters and brothers.  Virtually all of what is regarded as sacred scripture in Judaism is also regarded as sacred in Christianity.  Both of us embrace one God, whom we experience as both the transcendent creator of the universe, and the life-force that we experience with each breath. We both have foundational stories in which God intervenes in the usual course of nature – the Hebrew people’s escape from Egypt, and the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Both Jews and Christians have a sense that God expects much of us in our treatment of the poor and the marginalized, since the welfare of the downtrodden is at the very heart of God (as heard this morning in the Song of Hannah, 1 Samuel 2:1-10, and later reflected in Mary’s Magnificat).

Culturally, we as Christians have much to be ashamed of in the treatment of Jews, from the ghettoes of the 13^th century to the holocaust of the 20^th , of that there is no doubt.  But from a purely theological standpoint – how we understand ourselves in relationship with God and the world – there is far more that we share, than separates us.  We are truly one Judaeo-Christian tradition.   

So why are our faiths so separate?  Why do I see lots of eastern tradition drifting into Christian practice, but very little cross-pollination between these two faiths that have grown up in the same plant?  Perhaps this is a western Canadian thing - I think there might be more Jewish influence on Christian thought and practice in eastern Canada, but here in the west I see us admiring Jewish cultural traditions and having some great personal friendships, but I don’t hear as much popular migration of theological influences from Judaism to Christianity as I hear from eastern or aboriginal religious traditions.    

For a very articulate description of the Jewish-Christian gap, I turn to one of my academic heroes, professor John Bright.  John Bright was a biblical scholar par excellence.  He wrote a towering book called “A History of Israel” in 1959 and it remains one of THE standard reference works for understanding the world of Hebrew Scripture. At the end of his brilliant, fair-minded book, Professor Bright (pp. 463-464) asks the key question: once we reach the end of the Hebrew Scriptures, what did they understand to be the destination of the Jewish faith from there?  He gives a two-fold answer, and I’m going to leave it in the masculine language of the good professor’s day:

“The history of Israel would continue in the history of the Jewish people, a people claimed by the God of Israel to live under his law to the last generation of mankind.  To the Jew, therefore, …the hope of the Old Testament is to him a thing yet unfulfilled, indefinitely deferred, to be eagerly awaited by some, given up by others (for Jews are probably no more of one mind where eschatology is concerned than are Christians).  Thus the Jewish answer [is that] Israel’s history does continue as Judaism.

“But there is another answer, the one the Christian gives, and must give.  It is likewise historically legitimate, for Christianity did in fact spring from [Judaism at that time].  That answer is that the destination of Old Testament history and theology is Christ and his gospel.  It declares that Christ is the awaited and decisive intrusion of God’s redemptive power into human history and the turning point of the ages, and that in him there is given both the righteousness that fulfills the law and the sufficient fulfillment of Israel’s hope.

I first read that epilogue nearly 30 years ago, and the late professor’s question still haunts me. How do we, as Christians, approach the completely different Messianic understandings of Christianity and Judaism?  How do we, as heirs of the Judaeo-Christian tradition, dialogue with our Jewish sisters and brothers with honesty and respect, given the divergence of our traditions from this very point?

Each Sunday, the lectionary, or table of bible lessons, gives us four readings.  Typically, I pick two of those for our Sunday morning focus, sometimes just one. For the past six weeks, the folks at lectionary central have felt compelled to give us preachers a series of nearly-identical readings from the book of Hebrews which draw pointed distinctions between the repetitive Jewish sacrificial practices, and the once-and-for-all sacrificial death of Jesus Christ.  Following the direction of my seminary profs, when you see something in scripture that you’d rather not deal with, that is precisely the point that needs to be explored - and so my skirting-of-issue comes to an end this morning.  

At least six times between chapters 7 and 10, Hebrews makes this point about outmoded priestly practices being replaced by Jesus, and while there are slight differences each time the point is made, it does get really repetitive. Preaching these chapters as a sermon, it’s as if the author of Hebrews is intentionally droning on, repeating his point until it irritates his audience and then coyly asks the rhetorical question, “are you getting bored yet? Are you? Well good!  Because in the old approach to sin, every sin needed to be paid for by a specific sacrifice, and it did get terribly repetitive: you sin, you sacrifice, you sin, you sacrifice, you sin, you sacrifice, you sin, you sacrifice. But for the author of Hebrews, Jesus is the one and only sacrifice, offered once and for all.  No additional sacrifices needed, the cycle is broken.”

Do we sense a bit of superiority in the way this is presented?  Yes, we do.  But I do need to raise three points that help us frame what Hebrews is saying.

First, the writer is not standing at a street corner in Jerusalem, looking at the priests offering sacrifices and wagging a judgmental finger at them.  No, by the time Hebrews was written it’s almost a certainty that the Temple had been destroyed.  He was looking back, perhaps 1800-1900 years back at the days when the sacrificial rules were being set.  His argument was not so much, “look at these silly Jewish people and their useless sacrifices” – it was more a fundamental statement about any system in which people think they are alienated from God unless they perform a specific ritual action.  He would probably have been as critical of high Christian understandings of communion or baptism.  The writer of Hebrews looked at Jesus and said, no matter what payment you think God needs when you stumble and fall, it’s already been looked after.  Do not live in the past, live fully in the present and move into God’s wonderful future for you.

Second, while he uses the ancient Jewish sacrificial system as his workbench for making his point, the author of Hebrews would have to have been aware that many of the early Jesus people did not fully understand the forgiveness of sins in Christ Jesus.  This was a common theological issue, for Jews and Christians! Hear these words from the apostle Paul, in the 5^th and 6^th chapters of Romans: “God’s kindness now rules, and God has accepted us because of Jesus Christ our Lord.  This means that we will have eternal life.  What then should we say? Should we keep on sinning, so that God’s wonderful kindness will show up even better?  No, we should not! ... In the same way, you must think of yourselves as dead to the power of sin.  But Christ Jesus has given life to you, and you live for God”. (Rom 5:21 – 6:11, CEV)  This is one of the great biblical statements about God’s gracious forgiveness: as Christians, however we believe what was done on the cross, we are to live with the assurance that we cannot save ourselves from the dirty little corners of our lives, or the big regrettable actions of our society.  We come in humility to Christ Jesus, say “thank you”, and that is enough.  It is the power of God working in us, and not some self-generated force of goodness, that brings us new life in Christ.

And third, especially from a United Church pulpit, I have to acknowledge that not all Christ-followers have any relationship with this salvation theology.  For many liberal Christians, Jesus is a great teacher, a powerful reformer, a mystical presence in times of trouble, but the equations of sin and forgiveness, cross and resurrection, and “entry requirements” for heaven, are less certain or less central. Similarly, while the idea of a Messiah coming to restore the nation of Israel was quite widespread in the days of Christ, it wasn’t followed by everyone, and over the centuries this messianic thinking has diminished substantially within Jewish thought.  We need to remember that the writer of Hebrews only knew what he knew: he could not foretell what would happen between Jews and Christians and their respective Messianic beliefs in the generations to follow. 

Generally, I try to have a specific tie-in between the scripture reading, and life as it unfolds in our time and place.  Today, I’m afraid that the topic at hand has needed a more purely doctrinal approach so the daily implications are not quite so practical.  But I will say this: in our relations with sisters and brothers of other faiths, there are places where we differ.  Sometimes it’s just the details on which we disagree; other times, the disagreements are big, even life-and-death.  As northern hemisphere Christians, we are fortunate, very fortunate: we are generally able to deal with these differences with a shrug of the shoulders and a vocalized, “live and let live”.  But I do encourage you (1) to be clear on what Christ Jesus means to you, (2) to have a means of articulating the divine mystery of a God who is intensely personal and wonderfully ethereal, (3) to know what ethical behaviours are inspired within you by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Three decades of interacting with people of other faiths has taught me that only when I am clear about what I believe as a Christian, am I truly able to listen respectfully to the beliefs of people of other faiths.  The book of Hebrews details a fork in the road that appeared nearly 2000 years ago, between those who were still awaiting the Messiah, and those who believed he had already come and would be coming again.  That is a big, and perhaps irreconcilable difference in our basic theologies, no matter how we frame it.

We must accept that difference in our beliefs, and move on in our relationships.  Sometimes, as this summer when the United Church of Canada joined many large American denominations in calling for an end to specific actions of the State of Israel in the West Bank, we have said some blunt things that may have been taken personally by our Jewish friends.  But even having said these things, we can honestly say that the formal relationship between Jewish and Christian entities in Canada is one of friendship, and that is a good thing.

In closing, the last word goes to professor John Bright:

“So it is that Old Testament history ultimately places one before a decisive question.  And that question is [the question from Jesus to his disciples]: “Who do you say that I am?... It is on this question, fundamentally, that the Christian and his Jewish friend divide.  Let us pray that they do so in love and mutual concern, as heirs of the same heritage of faith who worship the same God, who is [Creator and ] Father of us all.”

Reference cited:

Bright, John.  A History of Israel. Philadelphia: Westminster.  3^rd ed, 1981.

Also, see an excellent article by Susan Eastman, an assistant prof at Duke Seminary:
http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=11/8/2009

For more regarding North American Church statements about Israel’s activity in the West Bank, see http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/21/us/church-appeal-on-israel-angers-jewish-groups.html?_r=0 and www.gc41.ca

 

© 2012 Rev Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB

Mark 12: 38-44 -- 11 November 2012 - Remembrance

 

It’s come to this.  But then again, it always comes to this. Two copper coins remain, only two.  Do I spend them on food, then make some excuse for not going to worship at the Temple?  Or do I go to Temple, give the last of my meager resources, and hope that some person of faith will take pity on me?

That was pretty much the choice facing the widow in today’s gospel reading.  It’s one of those top scriptures that still gets referred to, even in secular circles: the inspiring, heartbreaking story of a woman living in poverty, giving all that she has.

Three weeks ago, I was worshipping at my Mom’s home Church in Regina, and there was a guest presenter from a child care centre which deals with low-income families.  She made a great point: from her experience, what seemed to create the most problems for families in poverty was the constant stress of the situation. There have been enough times in my life where the paycheque ended long before the month, that these words struck home for me.  When there’s not enough, you’re always cutting corners but worrying that you might be cutting the wrong corners.  You feed the kids Kraft Dinner day after day and it fills them up, but they need fruit and veggies and protein too. But if you eat better, then there’s no way you can pay all the utility bills. You’re always on the lookout for a place with cheaper rent and better transportation options, but there’s likely a safety cost attached to that and the kids might have to shift schools.  You could try to find an extra job, if your current work has predictable hours to permit that, but the more tired you get the more irritable you get with the family, or you stop noticing changes in their behaviour or their circle of friends. In short, when you don’t have enough to make ends meet, you’re constantly needing to make decisions and those decisions always have spin-off consequences that could get ugly.  Living in a state of “high anxiety” all the time takes its toll on you.

I think it’s fair to take that sense of anxiousness and superimpose it on the story of the widow’s mite.  The only social safety net in that time and place, was a demand within Judaism that the widows, orphans, and migrants be taken care of.  Yet in the first part of todays’ reading, Jesus points an accusatory finger at the religious elite of his day and says “they take advantage of widows and rob them of their homes, and then make a show of saying long prayers.” (Mk. 12:39)   And even if that kind of system was working, one’s self-image takes a real flogging if day after day after day is spent looking for enough of a handout to meet the needs of that day and maybe a bit of the next day.  That mixture of beaten-down self esteem, and hunger, and anxiety about everything, frames the picture of a woman putting her last remaining financial resources into the collection box… and to me, makes her donation that much more remarkable.   We talk about “giving till you hurt” but this woman was hurting even before giving.  Her gift expressed devotion to the Temple; trust in God’s provision; and a deep understanding that whether you have a little or a lot, when you come right down to it, it ALL belongs to God. 

In preparing for today’s message, my thinking on this scripture (the “the heroic, sacrificial giving of a poor widow”)  has been challenged.  Mark Davis, a most excellent Greek translator, scholar and blogger, argues that we need to remember the context of the widow’s contribution - it comes immediately after Jesus’ accusation of the religious nobility.  With that in mind, Mark says:   

“[By her donation to the Temple treasury, the widow] is participating in a system that routinely oppresses her and does so alongside of the guise of piety (v.40). In  a profound way, she is acting with nobility and self-sacrifice and she is contributing toward an unjust system. She is giving all that she has and she is abetting a system that will take away all that she has. It is truly a tragic situation facing the widow, because her means of practicing true piety is at the same time a system that is devoid of justice and will, in turn, exploit her.

[She is] living tragically within systems that are oppressive and dehumanizing, yet are still places where one can make self-denying contributions toward the common good. …. Is the widow heroic? Sure. Is she naïve? Maybe. Is she contributing to a system that exploits her? Yes. Can she do otherwise? Maybe not.”

I have to admit – I had only seen the generosity of the widow.  I had never before considered that she may not have had the option to do otherwise.  Reading between the lines of Jesus’ attack on the teachers of the Law, it sounds like there may have been phenomenal pressure on poor people to literally give the shirts of their backs – that all-too-familiar guilt that has been such a common motivational tactic in the history of organized religion.  Between this top-down pressure, the peer pressure of other poor people knuckling under, and her own sense of desperately wanting to contribute to a community devoted to God, the widow’s donation might not have been as freely offered as I had previously believed.   I still honour the gift that she gave, but am a lot more angry about the circumstances that may have forced her hand.

Taken on its own, this is one powerful story pointed directly at every congregation.  It chastens us as a religious community to make sure that we NEVER use “one-size-fits-all” stewardship methods that pressure the poor into giving more than they can afford, while never challenging those living a life of ease to truly embrace the spirit of sacrificial giving.  But on this day, it also intersects with today’s solemn reminder that not all of our sacrifices are monetary.

In 1905, Charlotte and Frederick Wood applied to the British Government for a Dominion Land Grant. They were assigned  a quarter-section of virgin land near the hamlet of Gunn, northwest of Edmonton.  The eight oldest children were already established in England, so Charlotte, Frederick and their four younger sons emigrated to Canada, where they cleared a ranch on their new land.

When war broke out in 1914, Charlotte's 7 sons in Britain enlisted immediately. In Canada, the two older boys volunteered right away but the two younger lads were only 13 and 15.  No matter -  they signed up anyway at Christmastime, 1915. By the beginning of 1916, all eleven of Charlotte's sons had enlisted.

War struck home early in the Wood family, with Louis lost at sea in September 1914. In the agonising four years that followed, Charlotte and Frederick suffered a succession of losses: Fred, on the Somme; Harry, aged eighteen,  at Gallipoli;  Joseph, who survived Gallipoli and the Somme, perished at Passchendaele; and Percy, still a month shy of his 18th birthday, was killed at Vimy.  In all, the Wood family lost five sons in the Great War.

Charlotte was awarded the George V Jubilee Medal in 1935, and was the first recipient of the Memorial Cross.  A relative remembers that Charlotte was extremely proud of what her family had done, but also bitter that she and so many other mothers had lost loved ones and given so much to the "war to end all wars". For the rest of her life, Charlotte channelled her energies into voluntary organisations serving disabled veterans and bereaved family members, and into acts of commemoration for the fallen.

In July of1936, she sailed from Montreal as part of "The Vimy Pilgrimage". The Pilgrimage comprised 8,000 Canadian ex-servicemen and next-of-kin who were travelling to France for the unveiling of Canada's World War One Memorial. On the eve of departure, Mrs Wood told the press: "I would rather have all my twelve about me tonight than all your pilgrimages, so I would".

Today we ponder the weight of these losses.  The complexity of the story of the Widow’s Mite helps give us a framework as we remember the courage and devotion shown in wartime; we offer thanks for the courage and dedication shown by soldiers and their families, and continue to acknowledge the depth of their sacrifice.  We regret the ways that national pressure and peer pressure and, eventually, conscription, played a role in the loss of many lives and suffering of many debilitating injuries.  We lament that wars still rage in the world, and pray for all who live in its horrible shadow.

We honour the stories of the Bible, when we seek their fullest meaning and consequence.  We honour the memory of those who served in the Wars, those who died in battle, those whose lives were irreparably damaged by War, when we honestly embrace the circumstances of their sacrifices.  In our living, may we be taught much by these stories of giving all. Amen.   

 

For further reading:

On Charlotte Wood: http://www.hellfire-corner.demon.co.uk/ceris.htm

Mark Davis’ blog: http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.ca/2012/11/pretentious-pretenders-pressuring.html

Another excellent reflection on the Widow’s Mite: http://economicdiscipleship.wordpress.com/2010/11/10/wrestling-with-the-widows-mite/

 

© 2012 Rev Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB

Mark 12: 28-34 and Ruth 1: 1-18 -- 4 November 2012

 

One of my favourite Mark Twain quips is, “When I was ten, I thought my parents knew everything. When I became twenty, I was convinced they knew nothing. Then, at thirty, I realized I was right when I was ten”.

When I was a 20-year-old kid in university, I remember bringing home all kinds of new ideas and opinions to my parents.  I think that I truly believed I was doing them a favour. Sometimes they would challenge what I was bringing home, especially if it was accusatory;  sometimes they would be really interested in the new perspective and we’d have a great discussion about it; most of the time, I think that my half-baked new ideas went in one ear and out the other, and deserved to be.

One of the places that we had disagreements was in the whole idea of whose land we were on.

I had been raised with a basic understanding that since my ancestors, the good folk of the British Isles had done so much work breaking the land and providing organization and leadership throughout most of English-speaking Canada, there was no question.  The land was ours, and anyone else wishing to join us could do so but only if we said they could, and only if they understood that the rules we’d set were THE RULES.  And until 1967, the laws of Canada did more or less agree with this opinion.

In contrast to this, one of the ideas I trotted home from University was the idea that all of us from the British Isles were at one point newcomers to this land.   Theologically, we could say that the land belonged to God; politically, we could say that the land was primarily the home of the various aboriginal peoples who inhabited it for several millennia before our ancestors’ arrival; but there was not much to support that me and my ancestors had a primary claim, and nothing to support the breach of hospitality in the way we moved right on in.  On this point, my parents and I definitely did not agree.

Now that my kids are in their early 20s, they’re challenging/renewing my thinking on such matters.  One of our daughters, for example, never writes Victoria BC as her return address – it’s always Victoria, Unsurrendered Esquimalt Territory.   As someone who is just 4 years away from finally having our Calgary mortgage paid off, and has become rather complacent and conservative as a householder, I guess I needed the reminder that the issues that burned within me 30+ years ago are still live issues. Whenever I start feeling possessive of the land, and culture, and Church, in which I live, there is another voice correctly challenging my understandings.  

Today’s first reading, the familiar and well-loved story of Ruth and her devotion to her mother-in-law, Naomi, is an ancient story that challenged some of the understandings of its day.  Naomi, and her daughters-in-law Orpah and Ruth were all widows, and they all needed to make some big decisions.  In this story Ruth functions as the kid bringing new information home to mom (or, in this case, mom-in-law) because her devotion to Naomi, held greater force than her trust in the common wisdom of the day. Naomi was an Israelite so when her husband and sons died, and there was a plentiful crop back home, it only made sense to return to Israel.  But Ruth was a Moabite girl, Israelite by marriage only, so when she and Orpah were widowed Naomi said to them “go back home and stay with your mothers.  May the Lord be as good to you as you have been to me and to [my sons].”  But Ruth would not stay back in Moab – her place was with her mother-in-law, her devotion was to the God of Israel.  Common logic said, understand your place and stay home.  God’s call said something else. 

This is a beautiful story of devotion.  It is also a story with a huge message about the interaction of peoples, of relations between God’s people and those we might see as outsiders.  In order to make sure that we get this message, the book of Ruth ends (4: 13-22) with a tremendously important note about genealogy:  Ruth did go to Israel, where she married Boaz and they had a son named Obed.  Obed became the father of Jesse, and Jesse was the father of David.  So King David, the great hero of Israel, was one-eighth Moabite.  From a Christian standpoint, we can add to this the genealogy of Jesus from the 1^st chapter of Matthew, which tells us that Jesus of Nazareth, 28 generations after King David, stands heir to a line that includes Moabite blood.  

From a historical-critical standpoint one can look at these genealogies and say, “well that’s lovely, but fanciful.  Clearly, those family trees are just make-believe.“  Which may well turn out to be true if we were able to unearth some census records and do some fact-checking, but something else is even more true.  Those who determined what goes in the Bible and what stays out looked at this story and wanted to deliver a message to all succeeding generations, and the message is this: Don’t you dare treat this as somebody else’s story.  Don’t you dare point at the Moabites coming across our border and say they don’t belong here.  Ruth is one of our great-great-grandmas in the faith.  So every time you deal with a migrant from another nation, every time you are faced with refugees escaping famine in their land, treat them as if they were your own sister or brother.  Extend the kindness of Leviticus 19:33, which specifically says (TEV) “Do not ill-treat foreigners who are living in your land.  Treat them as you would a fellow-Israelite, and love them as you love yourselves.  Remember that you were once foreigners in the Land of Egypt.  I am the Lord your God.”    

Throughout the Bible, the people of God were occasionally the settled ones, but more often we have been migrants, refugees, nomads, people without a home.  Scripture does not let us neatly divide the world into us and them, insiders and outsiders, and God does not allow us, ever, to close our eyes to the plight of the world, no matter where people are located or where they are from.  Whether we are trying to find right relations with our aboriginal sisters and brothers who pre-date us on this land, or are welcoming others who are new to our land, our community, we need to realize that new and old, central and peripheral, are labels that easily change with time and at all times, kindness and compassion are the order of the day as we deal with one another.

Keep that understanding in mind as we turn to the reading from the gospel of Mark.  In both Matthew and Luke, the question about which commandment was greatest was portrayed as a set-up, designed to get Jesus into trouble.  But here in Mark it is remembered differently.  Here, a teacher of the law who was already impressed with how Jesus handled other questions comes to Jesus privately and asks an earnest question: “which commandment is the most important of all?”. 

The answer is two-fold:  a foundational commandment and well-known worship element from the 6^th chapter of Deuteronomy, to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind and strength; and a lesser-known scripture from Leviticus 19.  This was the same chapter that contained the rules about not harvesting the corners of your fields so the poor would have some gleanings, the same chapter that contained the rules about referred to earlier about fair treatment of foreigners in the land. From Leviticus 19 Jesus picked obscure little verse 18 as primary: to love one’s neighbour as oneself. 

Jesus challenged his hearers then and his hearers now to keep those two aspects of our life interlinked: our love of God and our love of neighbour.  Neglect neither, for together they create a great balance.  Whole-hearted devotion to God with no recognition of the needs, or even the presence, of others, is not our calling.  But similarly, while we are directed to be engaged in healing the hurts and alleviating the troubles of those in need, our calling is to do this as an expression of a deep connection to the loving, forgiving power of God. Jesus has told us that these two commandments taken together, to love God and love neighbour, are the lenses through which we evaluate all else in life.  Whatever else I do, whatever else I believe, gets measured by whether it brings me closer to God, and whether it expresses Christ’s own love of neighbour.  

No matter what issue we are trying to figure out, that two-fold great commandment holds the day.  They are the first two questions to have in the back of your mind when making ethical decisions, something like the WWJD bracelets from a few years back that encouraged us to wonder “what would Jesus do”  - except that the two-fold Great Commandment does not just ask “what would Jesus do” but “how would Jesus think this one through?”  From our response to Canada’s recently - changed immigration laws, to our expressions of hospitality here at Church, to our understanding of ourselves as sojourners on first nations land, our willingness to love God and love neighbour frames our thoughts and actions and identity.

In a few moments, we will share in the ritual meal that Jesus has given us.  It’s a meal that puts the great commandment into action: the great thanksgiving prayer gives praise for the ways that God is active in the unfolding of history, and the meal itself is shared with all neighbours who seek the path of Jesus.  Whether we are feeling close to God at this moment, or are feeling separated for some reason, we are invited to share in the bread and the cup.  Whether we’ve been part of this Church forever, or just walked in the door this morning, we are equally called and equally loved.  Whether we feel a bit out of place, like Ruth, or are totally devoted to God, like Ruth, or are more important to the faith lives of others than we would ever imagine, like Ruth,  this table and this house of worship are intended to be home for us. The Bible may not let us get comfortable in identifying insider vs. outsider in our understandings of faith and life, but the invitation of this table is clear: all are fully invited to come to the table of our Lord Jesus Christ.  

In the light of same fairly blunt Biblical admonitions this morning, I have to say that I am proud to be serving this congregation.  I believe that RCMUC has a real heart for the ministry of welcoming.  Marshall, Donna & others do a great job meeting new worshippers at the door and then it continues as all of us become involved – at coffee time, in the pews, when you see someone you’ve not yet spoken to, when you spot someone on the edge of a social gathering or not staying around real long after Church and invite them to join in, when you go from this place and engage newly-arrived neighbours with the gift of hospitality. The newly-instituted Benevolent Offering on Communion Sundays is another way we express our connectedness to our neighbours and their needs, whether those needs are spiritual, material, or both.  As a community gathered in the name of Christ, we are called to continually invite others and the great thing about it is, that as we invite new people we, in turn, will be changed by their wisdom, and bolstered by the strength of their faith. 

In that spirit of invitation, and by the power of Christ’s love, please rise and greet one another in the name of Christ.  May the peace of Christ be with you all.  Amen.

For further reading:

A Christian reply to Canada’s Immigration Legislation, Bill C-31, from Kairos Canada:
http://www.kairoscanada.org/dignity-rights/migrant-justice/protect-refugees-from-bill-c-31-joint-statement/

United Church of Canada’s efforts for right relations between the Church and First Nations: http://www.united-church.ca/aboriginal

Some pithy Mark Twain quotes, at http://www.betatesters.com/penn/twain.htm

© 2012 Rev. Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB