Sunday, July 11, 2010 Pentecost 7C “Love Worked
Into Our Lives”
Scripture: Psalm 82 Colossians 1:1-14 Luke
10:25-37
How many of you know “The Golden Rule” by heart? (“Do unto others as you
would have others do unto you?”) How many of you know “The Greatest
Commandment?” (“Thou shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your mind, and with all your strength, and your neighbour as
yourself.”) How about John 3:16? (“For God so loved the world that he
gave his only begotten son, so that whoever believed in him will not
perish, but have eternal life.”)
How many of you memorized these verses as a child? For those of us raised
in the Christian Church back in the day when we earned little gold stars
after our names for memorizing verses… we have these things down pat.
Right!! It’s so easy. The words just slide off the tongue with hardly a
moment’s thought.
That’s how it is with the lawyer who stands up to question Jesus in
today’s Gospel reading. The man asks Jesus a question, he knows the
answer to. He has memorized the verses as a child. He knows them off by
heart. So when Jesus asks the man’s own opinion on the matter, the words
just slide off his tongue. He has it all down pat. And Jesus agrees,
“Good answer,” he says, “Just do it and you will live.” Well, this is all
a little too quick and easy, not quite the sparring matching the man is
aching for, so he asks, “But, who is my neighbour?” And Jesus, without
missing a beat, tells him the story we all know, the story the Good
Samaritan. This is a story that most of us can tell without a second
thought. In fact, this story is so familiar that it has become a cliché
in our culture. Even those who have never heard the story think they know
what a “good Samaritan” is. But, as usual, Jesus isn’t done. He poses
another question, the answer to which is so obvious that the man, only now
thinking twice says the one who proved neighbour to the injured man was.
“the one who showed compassion.” For the Jewish lawyer, to put the words,
“neighbour” and “Samaritan,” much less “good” and “Samaritan” in the same
sentence was simply more than he could muster. “The one who showed
compassion,” will have to suffice. But the point has been made. Jesus
repeats his admonition, “Go do the same!” And the man realizes he has been
asking all the wrong questions--that it isn’t about ‘receiving’ rather
‘living into’ eternal life, and the issue isn’t who is his neighbour,
rather who will he be neighbour to. It’s all about the love of God
getting worked into our lives by the Spirit.
It’s all so easy. It’s all so clear. We know the stories. We memorize
the verses. We think we’ve got it all down pat… except for one thing, the
hearing and the knowing come so easy. The doing - not so much.
There is a contemporary story told by writer and preacher, James Wallace,
which brings us closer to the punch that the story of the Good Samaritan
must have had in its early telling. Wallace tells a story about a
twelve-year-old Palestinian boy, Ahmad Khatib, shot and killed by Israeli
soldiers during street fighting near his house in Jenin, the West Bank.
The boy had been holding a toy gun. He was taken to an Israeli hospital
where after two days, he died. His heart-broken parents made the decision
to allow their precious son’s organs to be harvested for transplant to
Israelis. Six people received his heart, lungs, and kidneys, including a
two-month-old infant. His mother, Abla, said, “My son has died. Maybe he
can give life to others.” [pg 243] These parents, who might have chosen
to simply be mired in their own grief, instead allowed their anguish to
become a source of life for others. These two are not merely hearers of
the Word. They do not merely remember and recite verses and parables by
heart, without a second thought. They breathe their very lives into the
Word so that they become a living revelation of the love of God. “Love
has been worked into their lives by the Spirit.” (Colossians 1:10, The
Message)
In
his letter to the Colossians, Paul has wonderful words of praise for the
new Christians there, especially for “the love they continuously extend to
all Christians.” In the gospels, Jesus doesn’t let us off so easily. He
doesn’t pat us on the back for simply taking care of our own. Instead,
over and over again in parable after parable, and in encounter after
encounter, we are challenged to, love and care for our enemies, to pray
for those who persecute us, and to extend hospitality to the stranger and
the foreigner.
The words come so easy. With hardly a moment’s hesitation, we can quote
both story and verse. But this business of allowing the love of God to be
worked into our lives by the Spirit, takes this neighbour loving thing to
a whole new level.
Wallace, in his commentary on this passage points out that in the lawyer’s
answer to Jesus’ first question in this story, some translations place a
comma separating the words about loving God with all you’ve got, and the
words, about loving your neighbour. Others place a semi-colon in the same
spot. The difference might seem insignificant, however, in Margaret
Edson’s play, Wit there is a scene that offer some illumination. It
is a conversation about the use of punctuation in John Donne’s Holy Sonnet
Six. Evelyn, a teacher rebukes Vivian, a student, for using an edition
marked by, what she calls “hysterical punctuation,” especially the use of
a semicolon where a simple comma would do. Evelyn dramatically recites
the last two lines, noting aloud its punctuation: “and Death—capital
D—shall be no more—semicolon! Death—capital D—comma—thou shalt
die—exclamation point!” She then suggests another reading: “And death
shall be no more, comma, death, thou shalt die.” The simple comma conveys
that “nothing but a breath—a comma—separates life from life everlasting.”
A simple comma suffices. The same, argues Wallace, applies here. A
simple comma will do. To love God is to love neighbour is to love God is
to love neighbour—like the rhythm of breathing. This ongoing flow of love
allows eternal life to begin. (Wallace, pg. 243)
The story of Jesus’ encounter with the lawyer told in this morning’s
gospel invites us to consider where and how the rubber of our faith meets
the road of our lives. The parable challenges us to be careful about
committing sacred words and stories to memory and imagining that is even
close to being enough. In the actions of the Samaritan, we see a man
willing to ignore deeply entrenched patterns of religious and cultural
hostility, and choose instead not only to see the common humanity of the
one left broken, vulnerable, and alone; but to respond with whole-hearted
compassion as one would to someone dearly beloved. He not only stops and
cleans and binds the man’s wounds, likely putting himself and his own
possessions into real jeopardy, he places this stranger on his own donkey,
takes him to a safe place, and provides for him. He then leaves him in
the care of another, promising on his return and pay any additional costs
incurred. It is as if once the compassion starts flowing, the man just
doesn’t know how to turn off the spigot! “Do this,” says Jesus, “and you
will live.”
The Golden Rule, The Greatest Commandment, The Story of the Good
Samaritan—ah yes, most of us know each one by heart. But can we allow
them to enter into our consciousness and by the Spirit, shape our lives so
that we too, may become living breathing revelations of the power of God’s
love reaching out, with acts of compassion to a broken and hurting world?
Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume # Pentecost and Season After
Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16);
David L. Bartlett &
Barbara Brown
Taylor, Editors,
Westminster John Knox
Press, Louisville, Kentucky, 2010.
Sunday, July 4, 2010 Pentecost 6C “The Power of
Love”
Scripture: II Kings 5:1-14 Psalm 30 Luke
4:24-30
I
have an acquaintance who has suffered from MS for many years. Slowly she
watches as, in spite of the best medical care available, her energy and
her capacity to carry on with life as she has known it continues to drop
away. Not so long ago, she was watching a television documentary on a
medical breakthrough by an Italian doctor. This new treatment is claiming
astounding successes in beating back the ravages of this terrible
disease. Naturally, she wants the opportunity to explore whether this
procedure might make a difference for her. She cannot, however, find a
physician in
Canada
convinced of its efficacy or willing to perform the necessary surgery. In
spite of the skepticism of Canadian doctors, and regardless the difficulty
and cost of procuring this surgical procedure overseas, she continues to
search for avenues to get to the treatment that she hopes may save her
life.
In
this morning’s Old Testament reading, Naaman is suffering from a skin
disease that is slowly eating away at his enjoyment and full participation
in life. He is a man of great physical strength, political power, and
personal wealth. Still, all these advantages cannot take away the facts
that he has a serious problem that is only going to get worse with time.
Naaman, like my friend, has consulted every physician in the district, has
tried every remedy prescribed him, has consulted every holy man and
prophet in the land-- all to no avail. His skin continues to deteriorate,
along with his hopes of ever finding a cure. He imagines a future in which
he can only stand helplessly by, as bits and pieces of his life drop away
from him like so many fair-weather friends. So when his wife’s servant, a
young Israeli girl taken captive during one of Naaman’s military
incursions into
Israel,
speaks to her mistress and tells her that there is a prophet in Israel who
can cure him, he listens. Naaman knows he is grasping at straws. After
all, if Israel’s God is so powerful, why are his armies so good at getting
the better of hers? But then again, what does he have to lose?
So
he prepares for the journey. He takes a letter of recommendation from the
king of Aram to the king of Israel. He loads up his chariots with silver,
and gold, and beautiful clothing—generous gifts to be given to the one who
might just turn his life around. He takes with him his pride and
authority, and the frailest of hopes.
Naaman does receive his cure, and indeed more than his cure; however,
things do not unfold as anticipated. The King, who he expects to have the
power to heal him turns out to be a hysterical sniveling mess, while the
prophet who sends for him to come refuses to come out to see him, sending
a servant instead with instructions that do nothing but raise his ire. At
the end of the day, a much humbled Naaman realizes that all his worldly
power, authority, and money have proved utterly useless in this endeavour.
Instead, he has been gently taken by the hand, not once, but on three
different occasions by servants who have humbly but steadily guided him
into a place of healing.
These servants are the last ones Naaman, or any of us for that matter,
would expect to be a source of help. They are those of no evident power or
authority. They are those of no worldly wealth or privilege. And
further, these servants have no earthly reason to have any great affection
for this man, this commander of enemy armies. Nonetheless they speak and
act in ways that lead him to a place of restoration, healing, and perhaps
most importantly to faith in the living God.
Perhaps these who we would regard as the last and least, have learned what
spiritual prophets and sages of every age proclaim, that there is
life-giving power in the exercise of love… and that love of one’s enemy is
the most powerful medicine of all.
I
have been reading a book by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, entitled, “A True
Kinship of Faiths.” In it, he claims that at the very heart of humanity
is the call to compassionate living. He writes,
It is my fundamental conviction that compassion—the natural
capacity of the human heart to feel concern for and connection with
another being –constitutes a basic aspect of our nature shared by all
human beings, as well as being the foundation of our happiness. In this
respect, there is not an iota of difference between a believer and a
nonbeliever, nor between people of one race or another. All ethical
teachings, whether religious or nonreligious, aim to nurture this innate
and precious quality, to develop it and to perfect it. (pg 109)
The Dalai Lama lists numerous passages from the sacred writings of the
various religious traditions of the world, all of them calling adherents
to live a life of compassion towards all.
The Prayer of St. Frances of Assisi, is placed next to the written
aspiration of an 8th century Buddhist teacher by the name of
Shantideva.
The prayer of St. Frances is familiar and beloved:
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to
console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life. (pg.
60)
Now with the prayer of St. Francis ringing in your ears, listen now to the
aspiration of Buddhist, Shantideva:
May I be a protector for the unprotected;
A guide for travelers on the way;
A boat, a raft, or a bridge
For those who long to cross to the other shore.
May I be an isle for those who seek an island;
A lamp for those who wish for light;
A shelter for those in need of rest;
A servant for those in need of service.
(Bodhicaryavatara
3:17-18) (pg. 61)
The Prophet Muhammad
writes in the Hadith the following words:
“All creatures are God’s children, and those dearest to God
are those who treat His children kindly.” (pg. 108)
In
Friday’s Toronto Star there was an article by Betsy Powell about an
ex-convict determined to be a good model for high-risk youth.
Segun Akinsanya, who killed a man four years ago and served
a prison term for it, is trying to show these young people that someone
who was once on the path to ruin has discovered the road to redemption …He
and a friend run Bright Future Alliance and its twice weekly Cooking for
Change program at O’Connor Community Centre on Victoria Park Ave. “You’re
not going to like me today,” Akinsanya says with a burst of laughter as he
hands over some dirty pans for 13-year-old Trevin Griffith Wynter to
wash.
“This,” writes Powell,
“is dinner with a difference.” And what a difference such meals make in
the lives of these vulnerable young people.
Sometimes we get the idea that we have to be somebody ‘special’ to make a
difference in the lives of those around us. These stories this morning
remind us that the only things we really need to make a difference in the
lives of those around us are a heart of compassion matched with a
willingness to reach out with the simplest gestures of human kindness. In
these ways we come to experience first-hand that, “In life, in death, in
life beyond death, we are not alone.”
Sunday, June 27, 2010 Outdoor Circle Service “To Be Born
Again”
Scripture: Psalm 19 John 3:1-8 “To Be Born Again”
I’ve been reading a book entitled, “My Stroke of Insight” by
neuroanatomist, Jill Bolt Taylor.
As
the story begins,
Taylor
gives a moment by moment report of her experience of having a massive
stroke, which progressively leaves her less and less able to function as
the intellectually bright, capable and lively scientist she once was. By
the time she reaches the hospital she has almost completely lost her
ability to make sense of the world around her, or to communicate with
those who tend to her. She has lost most of her left brain function, that
part of the brain that helps her to organize, and make sense of sights and
sounds and sensations, that enables her to understand and produce speech,
to read and to write —that part of her brain that creates her sense of
identity, and of personal physical boundaries. She experiences herself as
fluid rather than solid, and perceives that the energy of her life force
is interconnected with that of everything and everyone around her, that
her life force is one with the universal, one with the eternal. In in
those moments when she is able to pull away from her physical pain and
discomfort and draw deeply into herself, she experiences an amazing peace
and joy.
On
the third day after her stroke, her mother comes to visit. She has been
told that her mother, G.G., is coming, and she has lain in bed for hours
pondering what “mother,” and “G.G.” might be. She writes,
“G.G. came around the corner into my room. She looked me
straight in the eye and came right to my bedside. She was gracious and
calm, said her hellos to those in the room, and then lifted my sheet and
proceeded to crawl into bed with me. She immediately wrapped me in her
arms and I melted into the familiarity of her snuggle. It was an amazing
moment in my life. Somehow she understood that I was no longer her
Harvard doctor daughter, but instead I was now her infant again. … Having
been born to my mother was truly my first and greatest blessing. Being
born to her a second time has been my greatest fortune.”
In
our gospel story this morning, Nicodemus, a leader and teacher of the
synagogue comes to Jesus by night. He approaches with deep humility
saying, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God,” but
before Nicodemus can even begin to say why he has come, Jesus interrupts,
and says the strangest thing. “Nicodemus, no one can see the kin-dom of
God without being born again”
In
response to Nicodemus’ deep puzzlement, Jesus goes on to speak of the
importance of being born of water and the Spirit; and warns him that when
someone makes that choice, life is not nearly so predictable as it has
been. “The Spirit blows where it will,” says Jesus, “and so it is with
everyone born of the Spirit.”
Now, we know very little about Nicodemus, but being a Rabbi and a teacher
of the law, we might suspect that the idea of being blown hither and yon
by what Jesus refers to as, “The Spirit,” might not particularly appeal to
him. Neither, for that matter, does it appeal to many of us! On the
other hand, perhaps Nicodemus is at a place in his life where he senses a
need to have the cobwebs blown away from his dusty old assumptions, maybe
he’s ready to be swept up by the Spirit.
There is a saying that, “When the student is ready, the teacher will
appear.” Perhaps Jesus senses this teacher, cum student, is ready to
hear and experience something powerful and new in his life. Perhaps Jesus
senses that Nicodemus is ready to open to some fresh winds of the Spirit.
Some Bible translations interpret the phrase, “You must be born again,”
as, “You must be born from above.” I choose to use the former
translation, partly because it makes most sense in light of Nicodemus’
question, “Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be
born?” Partly because we do no longer understand ourselves as living in a
three tiered universe with heaven above, earth somewhere in the middle and
hell below. But, mostly because, in listening to many and various reports
of people’s sense of being born again, it strikes me that this universal
experience of being born again, of having a fresh start, or a new
beginning-- of somehow touching into the realm of Spirit and being
transformed by the encounter, comes to us as human beings in a
multiplicity of ways.
In
our lectionary discussions this week, one of my clergy friends responded
to my reaction to the born from above phrase by saying she thinks more of
connecting to the Spirit from deep within. I had to agree that it is
often the same with me. On the other hand, sometimes this profound and
life-changing encounter with Spirit comes after a physical trauma, such as
Jill Bolt Taylor describes in her book. Sometimes, it comes in the midst
of conversation with a trusted friend or even a stranger. Sometimes it
comes in a moment of absolutely awe in the midst of the natural world…. or
even more amazing, for some it comes in the midst of a service of worship
where the invitation is extended to simply, “Turn around and accept Jesus
into your heart and life.” One of my colleagues said that he is born
again every morning-- that when he goes to sleep at night, it is as if he
lays his life down, and when he awakens in the morning it is like being
born again. Every day is fresh and new—a beginning.
What about you? Where have you experienced a sense of new birth in your
life? When have you been deeply moved and changed by the Spirit? When
have you known, without a doubt, that you are deeply and profoundly
connected to all that is?
Jesus says to Nicodemus, “To enter the kin-dom of God, you must be born of
water and of Spirit… you must be born of flesh and of Spirit.” I believe
that throughout our lives the truth of Jesus’ statement stands. We can
get all caught up in the people, places, and things of our daily lives.
We can schedule our days so tightly that we rarely have a moment to
breathe. We can be so sure we know how life operates, that we never stop
to question whether our assumptions are true. But every once in awhile,
if we don’t voluntarily take the time to open our lives to the fresh winds
of the Spirit, life has a way of sidelining us for a time, taking us out
of the daily round, allowing us to rest, and offering us the opportunity
to notice the direction of the wind, lift our sails and catch the fresh
winds of Spirit.
“A
story is told of a South American tribe that went on a long walk, day
after day they would walk, then all of a sudden they would stop, sit down
to rest for a while, and make camp for a couple of days before going any
further. They explained that they needed the time of rest so that their
souls could catch up with them.” (Wayne Muller – Keeping Sabbath)
For many of us in this part of the world, summertime can be a time of
relative Sabbath. It is a time when our pace slows, and when we are
nourished by the beauty of the natural world. It’s a time when we have
the opportunity to be more reflective, to allow our souls to catch up with
us, and to be more attentive to the relationships in our lives, and to the
things of the Spirit.
I
hope this summer time will be a time of new birth, of fresh beginnings,
and the springing forth of fresh hopes and dreams for each one of us. I
hope there will be times when you know yourselves deeply and profoundly
connected to all of life. I hope there will be times when you experience
a profound sense of wholeness and peace.
In
closing, I would like to share a memory from one of our small groups.
Some of you may recall this as well. We were sharing the times in our
lives when we felt deeply connected to the great mystery which is life.
Our beloved Jeff Laing spoke up. He said that for him, one of the ways he
moves in that space is in to go out onto the lake on a clear night and lay
out on the water, simply floating and looking up at the stars.
I
encourage you to seek out those places this summer which connect you to
the goodness of life, which allow you to settle into your right brain from
time to time, and to join your heart to the One who creates us, in praise
and thanksgiving. Let us not take this beautiful world for granted, or our
capacity to be aware of our deep connection with it-- but offer it, and
one another, and yes, even ourselves the utmost care and respect.
Sunday, May 9, 2010, Christian Family Sunday “A
Peaceable Inheritance”
Scripture: Acts 16:9-15 Psalm 67 John 14:23-29
Rev. 21:10: 21-22-22:5
On
this Mother’s Day, on this Christian Family Day, the question comes to us,
“What is the inheritance that we will offer to our beloved children in
faith?” This question is very much on the mind of Jesus as he prepares
his disciples for his departure. He wants to assure them that he will
leave them an inheritance—one that will carry them forward, walk along
side them, dwell within them, and strengthen them for all that lay ahead.
He wants to ensure that they understand the way of peace that he has shown
them-- not a worldly peace achieved through domination and control; but a
peace received in knowing his presence in the midst of all that life will
bring; a peace discovered through the power of loving service to friend
and stranger, a peace experienced in knowing oneself as the beloved of
God.
Throughout the gospels, and the book of Acts, we see the followers of
Jesus, and sometimes Jesus himself struggling with the question, “Who is
this good news for?” Story after story tells us that it is not
necessarily those whom we would expect.
One of the parables that Jesus tells in the gospels is of a man who goes
out into a field and finds a pearl of great price, and then sells
everything he has to buy the field. It struck me yesterday, that perhaps
the Bible is a bit like that field. We can stroll through its pages,
ponder its words, and suddenly there it is, that “pearl of great price,”
that revelation outshines all others. And in that moment, we know we have
found something of profound worth, something that will reorient our very
lives.
In
our visioning exercises Bonnie Greene keeps speaking of finding a
“God-Shaped vision and mission for our church.” She keeps reminding us
that we are not called to be a community center, or the rotary club, but a
church. She keeps reminding us that we are called to a mission that
anchors people in loving relationship with God, with neighbours, and with
the depths of their own souls.
Currently, I am involved with our presbytery’s Interchurch-Interfaith
Team. We are sending out a survey asking people to think about, and share
with us about the interfaith relationships that are a part of their daily
lives. Have family members married someone of another faith? Do they
work with people of other faiths? Do their neighbours come from other
faith traditions? Ministers are asked, “Have you officiated at interfaith
weddings, or funerals, or been a part of interfaith services or
activities?” All are asked, “How have these relationships affected your
own faith understanding?”
For a long time, I have believed that the Divine is revealed in many
religious traditions, each one anchored in a particular time, place, and
people; each one with its own particular history, and mirroring both the
Divine and the human. It seems to me that many faiths have moments of
great clarity and faithfulness, as well as terrible moments—sometimes long
painful moments-- of succumbing to the downward spiral of the worst
aspects of the culture surrounding it. Over the years, I have studied a
number of other faith traditions aside from our own. I have had friends
and family members from different faith traditions. I have worshipped
with Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, and Unitarians, to name a
few. In most instances, I have grown in my appreciation for the unique
histories and the gifts of faith evident in each one. But, since my
tussle with cancer a couple of years ago I have begun to integrate some of
the spiritual practices of other traditions into my own, and have found
them to be profoundly helpful and healing. A whole new level of
appreciation has opened up for the spiritual practices of other faith
traditions, along with those of our own.
One of the practices I have begun to engage in is a Buddhist Practice,
called mindfulness meditation. This spiritual practice is taught as part
of Wellspring’s program for people with cancer, and their families. It is
an ancient practice meant to anchor one in an appreciation of the present
moment. The first practice is a meditation on the breath, on how we are
breathed-- a meditation that invites us to find our home in the breath.
The practice moves on in the form of various meditations—meditations on
our thoughts, simply sitting quietly and observing our thoughts and
letting them go; meditations on our emotions, simply becoming aware of
emotions as they arise and then move on; meditations on forgiveness;
meditations on loving-kindness. In my own practice, this has opened up for
me a fresh sense of the Divine, often readily accessible through simply
returning to the breath. I easily connect the breath with the Divine, or
the Holy Spirit, remembering the Biblical stories of the breath of life
breathed into us at creation, and the Holy Spirit Jesus is said to have
breathed into the disciples after the resurrection.
Another practice is one that arose out of Hinduism, called Yoga. About a
year and a half ago, shortly after I had returned back to work after my
cancer treatments I began to experience some low grade depression. I was
just sad. I couldn’t say why. The sadness just moved in and sat there on
my spirit. Then one night my daughter Katie invited me to go to Yoga with
her, and I went. It was physically challenging—and not the kind of
activity that I would have been naturally drawn to, but at the end of that
evening, I realized that I felt significantly better--not only physically,
but mentally, and emotionally. The sadness had lifted. I thought, “Wow.”
A couple of days later when the sadness returned, I returned to Yoga.
Once again, the sadness lifted. I thought to myself, “hmmm, maybe this
too will be part of my spiritual practice,” and so it has. At the end of
every yoga class we move into what is called, Shavasna, or Corpse Pose.
For several minutes, we lay flat on the floor with our hands and legs
outstretched, and stay very still, while also working to keep our minds in
stillness. After a time a Tibetan bell is chimed, and we slowly, gently,
return to movement, to deeper breath, to life. After a few times of this
practice, I realized that we were enacting our own death and resurrection,
that each time we rise, we rise to new life.
These experiences have gotten me to thinking more about how we relate as
Christian people to people of other faith traditions. In the past, and
there is good Biblical precedent for this, Christians have often
approached those of other faiths with a clear desire to convert them.
Often, the conversion proposed was not only a conversion of faith, but a
conversion of culture. We insisted that others be like us. Many of the
more damaging aspects of our former residential school program for Native
American children reveal that tendency. But there are many incidents in
scripture, where people receive a blessing from God, often through Jesus,
and are told to give thanks to God, and return to their own homes, with no
expectation of conversion placed upon them. It’s curious, don’t you
think? Western Christians, especially, have been blamed for what is
known as cultural imperialism-a tendency to impose our way of life on
others, all in the name of Jesus. In more recent times, some of us have
been silenced by these charges. Particularly in the United Church, we
have been encouraged to listen, to “hear others into speech,” and to
learn. We have been practicing partnership with those of other faith
traditions, seeking to enter these with some humility, listening to and
working with others, rather than trying to run the show. In addition, we
have learned new ways to speak about our faith, ways that allow us to
share our beliefs and our hopes, while at the same time respectfully
allowing others to do the same. “The time is coming,” Jesus told her,
“when people will worship, neither on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, but
in Spirit and in truth.” Which brings me to the question at the
beginning of this sermon: “What is the inheritance that we will offer to
our beloved children in faith?” For me, I hope that it is a genuine
knowledge, experience and appreciation of our Christian faith; but also an
openness to learn from those of other faith traditions. I hope that our
former passion for conversion might grow into a desire for deep
conversation, mutual faith exploration, and respectful relationship—for
the sorts of exchanges that might bring healing to some of the profound
divisions in our world. Perhaps the multi-faceted “God Life” of our world
can become grounds for friendship and a peace- not a peace born of
domination and oppression, but a peace received in knowing the Divine
presence in the midst of all that life brings; a peace discovered through
the power of loving service to friend and stranger, a peace experienced in
both knowing oneself, and seeing others as the beloved of God.
The apostle Paul speaks of life after death in this way: “The body that
is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonour,
it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it
is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
We
have no way of knowing what really happened on that first Easter morning,
but there can be little doubt that those early followers of Jesus shared a
profound experience and encounter with Jesus’ risen life. It was so
real…. so palpable… so true that after a while they began to shout out
with a seemingly unstoppable joy as they greeted one another along the
way, “He is risen!” “He is Risen Indeed!” It was that continuing sense of
the lively presence of the risen Jesus that propelled those early apostles
out across the land proclaiming, sometimes at the cost of their very
lives, that in spite of all evidence to the contrary, Jesus was no dead
martyr, but their living, loving and forgiving Lord. They even went so far
as to proclaim him as the way, the truth and the life—for in and through
his life, his death, and his resurrection, they had found a new way of
living.
This three-fold pattern became the pattern for their lives. Continually
living, dying, and rising to new life… in a thousand different ways over
the course of a lifetime. For every Good Friday experience arising out of
their life of faithfulness, they began to proclaim an Easter on its way.
For every aching death and loss, they came to expect a joyful
resurrection. For every brutal crucifixion at the hands of the unjust
powers of their day, they believed there would be a vindication by God’s
own self. Day by day, living, dying, and rising again, in a thousand
different ways, they proclaimed their faith, their hope, and their joy.
And the pattern has held, because the pattern is true. Some two thousand
years after the days in which Jesus of Nazareth walked the roads of the
Galilee, people like you and me continue to feel that we have somehow come
to know this Risen One.
We
continue to have conversation with, and form relationship with this One
whom we, like the apostle Paul, have never known in the flesh. Some of us
continue, from time to time, continue to sense his very real presence--
and through this presence to know ourselves in the very presence of God.
And so it is that we still sing with enthusiasm on this Easter morning,
Jesus Christ is risen today! Hallelujah! We marvel at the ways in which
the risen Christ continues to enter, into our present experience, and
accompany us from day to day. In truth, the Christian proclamation is that
Christ’s living, dying, and rising is not simply an historical event of
another time and place, but an eternal event of every time and place, one
which imparts a living imprint upon the lives of all who seek to know and
follow him. This living imprint challenges and changes us into a people
who will bear witness in our character – our speech, our manner, our
attitudes and in our actions, to his gracious, forgiving, courageous and
sacrificial love. This living imprint continues through us God’s dream
for the life of the world, God’s dream that everyone might know and
experience life in abundance, God’s dream that the world might more and
more be shaped by such things as justice, generosity, and compassion.
God’s dream was the
passion for which Jesus lived and died and rose again. He called it the
Kingdom of God. It is for this passion that he lives, and dies and rises
again, within us and others, that this work of recognizing, pronouncing,
and enacting the Kingdom of God might continue on through the lives of all
who will follow him.
It
is also true that such things as our annual celebration of March Madness,
and our upcoming 85th anniversary celebrations are expressive
of a common life anchored in relationship.
But then, our life together as a community of faith is not merely an end
in itself. It is meant to provide a template of sorts for our life in the
wider world. Christ calls us together to teach us what it means to live a
fully human life—a life of meaning and purpose; a life deeply connected to
those around us; a life marked by the joy of the Spirit who longs to make
us one people in this one world. The life of the Christian is one of
moving into community, and out again into the wider world of families,
friends, neighbours, co-workers, and even strangers; each constellation of
relationships informing and strengthening the other; each one reflecting
in its own way the presence of the living Christ within and among us.
