Towards Sunday, April 3, 2016

Readings: 

Acts 5:27-41 (After their experience of the resurrection of Jesus, the first disciples continue to act out and preach his version of the kingdom of God, and to preach him as the people's messiah.  The authorities in Jerusalem arrest them for this, but the disciples are no longer afraid of them.  One of the Council members is wise enough to suggest that if what the followers of Jesus are doing and saying is really of God, it will persist; if not, it will not.)

Revelations 1:4-8 (Even in -- maybe especially because it is, a time of intense persecution, John the seer celebrates the eternal sovereignty of God and of Jesus as God's Christ through whom the faithful now see -- and all the world shall see, the way of God's salvation of Earth.)

Do you remember the story of "The Emperor's New Clothes"? 

If you need to refresh your memory, you can find it at http://www.online-literature.com/hans_christian_andersen/967/.  Or, there's a child-friendly bed-time video version at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgFlbgwWf94.

In brief (so to speak) the emperor -- vain, insecure and foolish, is deluded by con artists into imagining they are clothing him in the finest of robes.  In reality, they are weaving nothing but lies and illusion.  The emperor, taken in by the conceit and clothed in their illusion, goes out in great pomp to dazzle his subjects.  The subjects -- likewise fooled and taken in by the lies of the empire, ooh and aah over what they imagine their emperor is wearing, and convince one another to bow down to the common lie.  It takes a little child -- unschooled in the vanity of the empire, to whisper, "But he has nothing on" to break the spell and allow everyone else to trust and speak out loud what they have actually known in their hearts all along.

Can you see that little child in the crowd -- the one whispering, "But he has nothing on," as at least one image of the risen Jesus?  Rising from death and from the worst the empire and temple could do to silence him, and whispering to the disciples, "But they have nothing on."

How else to explain the followers of Jesus no longer being afraid of the authorities?  And the seer, John, and the early church not buying into the illusion of pax Romana?  

Do emperors and authorities still parade before us, clad in lies and illusion?  Who benefits from it?  What illusions and conceits do we and others participate in, and bow down to today?  And who today is the little child -- the figure and enfleshment of the risen Jesus, whispering from the edge of our culture, "But it's really not true, is it?"

Sermon from Easter Sunday, March 27, 2016

Reading:  Luke 24:1-12
Sermon: The Subtlety of Easter

          … and returning from the tomb, the women told all this to the eleven

and to all the rest…But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and

they did not believe them. 

John Sumwalt, a retired United Methodist pastor, has written this for his Easter column this weekend in the newspapers of Madison, Wisconsin:   

Author, Philip Yancey,[he says,] tells of some history he learned while visiting

“...the tip of Argentina, the region named Tierra del Fuego, (‘land of fire’)

discovered by Magellan's sailors in 1528.  They noticed fires burning on the shore. 

The natives tending the fires however, paid no attention to the great ships as they

sailed through the straits.  Later they explained that they had considered the ships

an apparition, so different were they from anything seen before.  They lacked the

experience, even the imagination, to decode evidence passing right before their

eyes.” 

Yancey asks, "What are we missing? What do we not see?"  

[And Sumwalt himself then goes on to ask,] What can we not see?  What is it that

God is doing right in front of us that we cannot or will not see, that our cultural

assumptions, and our basic understanding of reality in this age of science, does not

allow us to see? 

Fredrick Buechner suggests that “We have seen more than we let on, even to

ourselves. Through some moment of beauty or pain, some subtle turning of our

lives, we catch glimmers at least of what saints are blinded by; only then, unlike

the saints, we go on as if nothing has happened...” 

 

 

In the Gospel story of the disciples’ first encounter with the resurrection of Jesus, I wonder if the difference between the women (who “remembered his words” and believed), and all the rest (who thought it was “an idle tale, and … did not believe”) is that the women saw and heard the two bright men – two angels, presumably, who explained to them what had happened, and helped them see what was in front of them with opened eyes. 

The stone was rolled away, and with the help of the angels, the women were able to see that something even bigger than that had shifted in the world, and in what was possible and real.  The tomb was empty, and more than just deepening disappointment and even greater distance from the one they loved, the women were enabled to see the tomb as a womb from which new life and new beginnings had come to birth. 

For the others, though, there was no such immediate and supernatural help.  A rolled-away stone is not a clear sign; it can mean a number of things.  An empty tomb by itself is not proof of anything; a tomb can be emptied in any number of ways.  Even the women’s story at first did not seem believable.   

To the others, the good news of resurrection comes in bits and pieces, in glimpses and hints, like a series of nudges and clues of something new and holy overturning the world and touching their lives.  And what they have to do is to notice the signs, connect the dots, fill in the gaps, and from them figure out the promise of new life as faithfully as they can. 

I wonder if that’s where we still are today a lot of the time. 

 

In the Gospels no one sees Jesus rise and emerge from the tomb.  The resurrection happens at night and in darkness.  It’s not something anyone causes or makes happen – not something we can schedule or control.  It’s a holy miracle and mystery that happens in secret, in the hidden parts of Earth, in God’s own time and way.  All of which make it hard for us sometime to believe in it, to trust it, and to continue to live towards it.  As John Sumwalt writes, it goes against “our cultural assumptions, and our basic understanding of reality in this age of science,” of mechanics, of mathematical planning and psychosocial engineering. 

It’s a difficulty we face on a global scale.  I heard David Suzuki interviewed this week and he and the interviewer talked about the tragedy of some scientists and ecological advocates today beginning to give up the fight for Earth’s life – of not believing that anything can change or be raised to new life, especially within humanity, just because they cannot see how to make it happen. 

And it’s a difficulty as well on the most personal level as we wonder sometimes whether anything good can come of what we see and where we and our loved ones are.  Can anything change?  Can anything be made new?  Begun again and in a new way? 

And what am I to say?  What can any of us say, to prove the resurrection?  To convince others, or even ourselves, to believe that God still works in the dark and in secret, under the surface of life and history as we know it, to bring new life out of death, and turn tombs into wombs of new life? 

Maybe like the first women, all we can do is tell stories – simple stories that maybe provide a few clues, convey a few signs, offer a few dots that maybe we or others can start to connect – as long as people are willing to do that and fill in the gaps as faithfully as they can.

 

Years ago up in Bruce County I heard a story third-hand of a woman who was badly abused by her husband.  She loved him, and didn’t really want to leave him, but finally for her own survival and well-being, she did.  Even as she left, though, she carried a lot of baggage.  She hurt a lot, and hated her ex-husband for it.  She didn’t like hating him so she tried forgiving, but every time she saw him all the hurt and hate were just there.  She felt trapped and closed within it.  So she prayed to be able to forgive.  She prayed a long time.  It didn’t seem to make any difference.  Until one day she phoned up her minister to say she had seen her ex-husband that day, they had talked, and even though there was still no way they would ever be together again, she realized as she talked to him that she had forgiven him.  The hurt was still there – always would be, but not the hate.  Without her realizing it, or knowing how or even when it had happened, a miracle of forgiveness had come and inside herself she was free. 

More recently I was talking with a man struggling with addiction.  Addictions, he says, never go away.  Once addicted, always an addict – even if a recovering one.  But then he said something about the power of acting “as if.”  What happens, he said, is you sort out what life would be like if you were free, if you had the virtues you long to have, if you had the freedom you are really meant to enjoy.  And you start to live and structure your day and plan your time “as if” it were true.  You do it over and over again, one day at a time.  And somewhere, at some point along the line, without your really even being aware of when it happens, without any fanfare announcing it, at some point it’s no longer “as if” – it’s actually “what is.”  And how does it happen, he says?  I don’t know.  When and how does it start?  All I know is that at some point along the way it has, and I can see that it has.

 

Are these stories of resurrection?   Of God working in the dark and in secret, under the surface and in the inner parts of our life as we know it to bring something new to be?  Of God bringing new life out of death in ways we cannot control or make happen, but only pray for and live towards in faith?   

And in the absence of bright young men – angels in our midst to announce things to us, are we able today to hear the story of God and the power of God turning tombs into wombs of new life, and believe it?

Sermon from Sunday, March 20, 2016

Reading:  Luke 19:36-42, 45-47

Sermon:  Jerusalem is Waiting (always)

“If these did not, the very stones would cry out.”

 

Jerusalem is waiting

           as it always is

The city is a place of need and want

          of powerlessness and power-players

The city and its people – all its people

          are waiting as always for a messiah 

The city is a place of stones

and all its people like one stone or another in it 

Some are like the paving stones

of the roads and thoroughfares

They are the people who others walk on /over

to get to where they want to be

the ones who are trodden underfoot, kept down

          and mostly forgotten or taken for granted

They cry out for healing, redemption, wholeness,

          maybe mostly for attention

They wait to see, receive, welcome, embrace

          a messiah / saviour who will serve

their well-being and the well-being of all

They wait to welcome and embrace

          sometime any messiah – no matter sometimes

whether a real saviour, a demagogue, or a tyrant 

Others are like the raised-up stones

          the beautiful, built-up ones

the buildings / facades / wonders of the city

Strong and attractive, well-put-together,

          the pride of the city,

important and self-important

They also cry out and look and wait

for a saviour / protector

of their interests / their place

someone who will serve / save

what they have achieved /accomplished  

And what / where are we in this story

of Jesus coming into the city? 

In some ways, are we the stones who are / who feel

downtrodden, tired, powerless,

taken for granted?

In some ways, are we those who are built up

and lifted above the rest?

important and self-important?

accomplished?

well-set and comfortably placed?

There are other roles as well

besides the stones of the city

more active and intentional roles

in the story of the coming

of God and God’s kingdom into our time

We could see ourselves as the disciples

          walking into the city with Jesus

In fact, we are encouraged to do that –

to claim our discipleship

and our place in the Gospel story as disciples 

But in the story –  in the Gospels and in our lives,

the disciples are not always so stable / sure

so understanding / true as we wish 

So how about this time, just for today,

we claim as our place and role

and take as our symbol, the donkey –

the young donkey whose job it is

to carry Jesus into the city waiting for him? 

 

 

No one wants to be a donkey

Donkeys are

          stupid and stubborn

          lowly and humble

          make asses of themselves, sound / look funny

But aren’t we all, at times, exactly like that? 

But I wonder if it’s also true

that under the hand of good / wise master

          a donkey can be led and directed

                   in good directions

                   to be of good purpose

                   and maybe the most helpful of creatures?

its stubbornness then

          marvelous strength?

and it singlemindedness then 

the gift of endurance

against all odds and opposition?

faithfulness to the cause and the call?

loyalty to a Power and a Purpose

greater than itself / us all? 

To be a donkey carrying Jesus 

who himself comes in obedience to another

who comes to the city / time we live in

with the way of real peace –

the well-being of all

may not be such a bad thing to be

 

Is it really so bad to be a donkey

when the one we bear and bear witness to

is one

who really is / really has

what the world is waiting for?

 

 

 

Sermon from Sunday, March 13, 2016

Reading:  Isaiah 49:1-6 and Luke 9:49-50

Sermon:  Does Jesus Want a Church?

According to the sign out on our front lawn, this church has been centred on Christ for over 200 years.   

Leaving aside the question of what that particular phraseology might mean to people outside the church, and whether it means anything good to them – which might be a whole other sermon, and without intending at all to be facetious in saying it this way, I think Jesus would probably like that we have been – centred on Christ for over 200 years. 

Because when we read of Jesus in the Gospels, we see him right from the start gathering people around him to follow in the way of the Christ, and grow into it themselves.  Karl Barth more than once remarked that the Gospels and all the New Testament, in fact, really are not about Jesus, but about Jesus and his disciples together as the body of Christ. 

Jesus never saw himself as redeeming the world and living out God’s good purpose all by himself; it was, by its very definition, a community affair.  Teaching, healing, feeding, raising to new life were things that he shared and drew others into, and gifts that he also drew out of others.  Even the cross – although it’s something he had to undergo alone, as we all do at the end, was not something he saw as his vocation alone.  Always Jesus imagined and taught the cross as something we all pick up and embrace in our own time and way – as we learn it from him, as we make him and his way the heart-centre of our life, for 200 years and counting. 

So, I mean it when I say that Jesus is glad we are here as a church centred on him and his way for the sake of the world we live in, in our time. 

And I hope you paid attention to that sentence, because I wrote it quite deliberately in the order I did. 

The first part, where it begins: Jesus is glad … 

The last part, where it ends up, the point of it all: …for the sake of the world we live in, in our time. 

And the middle part, the medium and the means by which the beginning and the end are brought together: …we are here as a church centred on him and his way … 

Sometimes we forget that we are meant to be in the middle – to be the mediator, the medium, the means of something greater than ourselves, carrying something meant for others beyond ourselves.  Sometimes we fall into the temptation of thinking that the church is really it, what it’s all about, and as long as the church is here and we are part of it and we are doing our bit to keep it going, everything is right with us and the world. 

And when we do this – when we forget that we one of God’s means, and not God’s end, we fall prey to two sins, two slippery-slope patterns of unfaithfulness. 

One is pride when things are going well, when we seem, and feel successful.   

Think back to the 1950’s when Canada was “Christian.”  The church was full, Sunday school was bulging, and anyone who wanted to be doing – and wanted to be seen to be doing the right thing was in worship, filling a pew on Sunday morning, and was also willing to serve in some other way – on a committee, as a Sunday school teacher, raising funds, singing in the choir.  Being a good church member and supporter was synonymous with being a good Christian, and the well-being of the church was the measure of our Christian faith and  commitment – as though the church as we knew it then was the be-all and end-all of God’s good will and purpose for the world. 

The other sin – the opposite slippery-slope of unfaithfulness we find ourselves on, when times are not so good and we are not as successful at being the church as we knew it, is fear and anxiety. 

It starts with nostalgia – when Sunday school shrinks or even disappears, worship attendance isn’t quite so regularly high, and it’s harder to find committee members and helpers, we look back with a kind of grief on the good old days, and soon the grief becomes full-blown fear and anxiety.   

We’ve known it here at times, and the United Church of Canada as a whole went through this stage as well.  Over the past few decades our national church has fretted about decreased givings to the M and S Fund, which is really our only way of supporting the national church.  Decreasing membership has been seen as a problem, closing congregations and selling church buildings, treated as a crisis.  The church is no longer the way we have known it, and we’ve worried about the future of the country and the fate of Christianity. 

It seems we’re getting past that now.  Not past the decreased givings to M and S, not past the declining membership, not even past the closing or merging of some congregations and the selling of assets.  But past the fear and anxiety.  Because maybe we’re recovering our sense of what Christianity is really about, and what it is beyond ourselves that we trust and see and celebrate. 

In the midst of this spiritual awakening of our time – our movement perhaps from church-ianity towards a more clear Christ-ianity, there are a few things about our church here and the way we like to go about things that I think stand us in good stead. 

One is the way in which this church does not push “membership” very hard.  This struck me as odd when I first came here, that a number of the real leaders of the church have never really “taken out membership” here and don’t have their names in the book, and that when new people come they aren’t really pushed to become “official members.”  There’s a down side to this, of course, if it means we don’t really invite commitment to, and engagement to the mission here.  But it does seem good that the focus is on each one finding the level of commitment and identification that makes sense to them, and anyone who is looking for a safe spiritual home being welcomed here in whatever way makes sense for them right now in their life.  Because church, after all, is not the be-all and end-all; it is the means of creating connections between God and the world beyond itself. 

A second thing is the lack of anxiety about attendance.  Yes, some Sundays we wish there could be more here.  We all look forward to good, robust fellowship.  We also wish more could benefit from, and add to what we have here.  But at the same time, we understand that Sunday attendance is not everyone’s cup of tea, and that people are not here at different times for all kinds of good reasons.  So we don’t go asking “why weren’t you here?”  And when people are able to be here again, we don’t greet them with “where on earth were you?”  It’s more just a simple, “Hi!  Good to see you.  How are you?” 

And as for what they may be missing when they’re not here?  Instead of saying, “Sorry! If you missed it, you missed it” we try to find ways to reach out to where people are.  Sermons are posted on-line on my worship blog so people can read them if they want.  The Sunday school worship bulletins are emailed out every week to every family on our list, so even if the children can’t be here they get at least some exposure to the lesson for the week.  And we’re always looking for ways to use our website and other means to reach out and help the flock – even scattered sometimes, to still be a flock. 

And a third thing – a third thing about this church’s way of being that stands us in good stead for the way the world and God are now, is that sometimes the best things this church has done have had nothing to do with the church itself, and everything to do with the community around us.   

Just two quick examples.  One of course is the Winona Men’s Club.  It was mostly men of this church and one or two other churches in the community that first founded the Men’s Club.  It grew out of Christian conviction about serving the well-being of the community.  And what was created was not a church group, but a specifically non-religious community group that survives to this day, serving the well-being of the community and all its members in ways that no other group, including no church, does in quite the same way.  I think Jesus would be glad. 

And lest we just stay in the past, just one simple example of the same thing today is the community Hallowe’en Party and Parade down in the lakeshore community.  Again -- a number of the key organizers are members of this church, taking their Christian commitment to the community outside the walls of the church, on the Sunday of the parade even taking people out of the pews and children out of Sunday school, but ultimately serving the well-being of the community in a way that Jesus probably approves of. 

So what does it mean for us to be a church “centred on Christ for over 200 years”?   

What does it mean to gather around him, follow in his way, and grow into it ourselves? 

Are there ways we still sometimes give in to an idolatry of church as we have known it?   

And what will it take for Jesus to continue to be glad that we are here as a church centred on him and his way for the sake of the world we live in, in our time?

Towards Sunday, March 13, 2013

Theme:  "Not the Church" (The chapter of Douglas John Hall's book, "What Christianity is Not" in which he argues that Christianity is not the same as, nor is it encompassed by the church.)

 

Summary of Hall’s Argument

It’s impossible for Christianity not to create “church” of some kind.   People learning to be together in unity with Jesus’ teaching and way is not an add-on to Christian faith; it is part of the message and a consequence of it. 

But Christianity is not synonymous with the church, for a few reasons.   

First, Christianity is the faith of the church, but the church is not perfectly and only Christian in its faith and practice.  The church also holds and practices faiths and beliefs other than Christianity – national, ethnic, racial, cultural, economic ideas and realities that are not inherently Christian, and may even be un-Christian or anti-Christian in some respects. 

Also, the promise Christianity offers is the redemption of all the world, and the church is one means to this, not the end itself.  In both Old and New Testaments, being “elect” and “chosen” means being called and moulded by God to be aware of God’s loving, redemptive work in all the world, and to help the world become aware of it as well.  It is not about being God’s specially saved "elite" (a Greek and gnostic notion), and having a guaranteed place in a holy afterlife.  

And finally, because it is God’s activity in and for all the world that is the issue here, it is not only the Christian church that is involved.  Others beyond the church are both effective agents of God’s work and articulate witnesses to it – sometimes even in better ways than the church is.  This is actually good and liberating news for Christians - that the future and hope of Christianity are not inextricably linked to the life (or dying?) of the church as we have known it.

So the critical question is not “how do we get others into the church and save both it and them,” but rather “how do we as the church stay open to, keep up with, and stay part of the work of God in the world?”  Rather than dreaming of making all the world Christian, we can be seeing and celebrating how God is redeeming the world’s goodness and making humanity really human, both in us and beyond us. 

Reflections 

Readings: 

 

Matthew 25:31-46 (Jesus’ teaching about the Final Judgement in which nations and people are affirmed or cursed on the basis of whether they have acted in accord with God’s spirit and will of compassion that Jesus reveals, even without having seen or known Jesus themselves.)  

Luke 9:49-50 (John says to Jesus, “We saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he does not follow with us.”  And Jesus says, “Do not stop him; for whoever is not against you is for you.”) 

One of the phrases I have heard recently is “God has a mission; sometimes that mission has a church.”  What do you think this means, and do you agree? 

The Christian church’s missionary efforts of the last two centuries (around the world and in Canada) were often tainted and distorted by unexamined cultural, ethnic and political attitudes that were not part of the gospel, and even antithetical to it.  What cultural, ethnic, social and political attitudes that have are not part of the gospel, are still part of our message – even in Winona? 

Hall says that the redemptive work of God in the world today is about making humanity more truly human.  Does this seem a fair statement of the good news the world needs to hear, and share in today?  If so, where do you see it happening – either inside and through the church, or apart from it? 

Mark Toulouse, president of Emmanuel College (United Church of Canada school of theology in Toronto) recently wrote that the question we need to ask as a church is not “is God with us?” but “are we in tune with what God is already doing in all the world around us?”  What prompts us to ask the first question?  What answers to the second question come to mind or heart?

Sermon from Sunday, March 6, 2016

Reading: Mark 10:17-27 (A rich young man; also very moral, asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life -- i.e. to be at peace and have a place in the kingdom of God.  Jesus' answer leaves him wondering what place both his riches and his morality have in the kingdom of God.)

Theme:  Why do we call ourselves good?  (Or others, bad?)

I really like our sanctuary and this place of worship. 
It’s very Christian in some ways

It starts with the narthex

-a bright, enlarged space with doors that open to all

-and the writing is on the wall:  “Let the love of God enfold you.” 

It’s an invitation – not a command nor just a wish,

but an invitation to anyone who comes,

to let themselves be drawn into a good/gracious place.   

It’s the love of God – not God’s wrath/judgement

that we seek to put people in touch with. 

No angry deities on that wall

making us cower from heaven above

no impersonal forces

squeezing the life out of people here below. 

That wall says it’s time for all the world to know

          the love of God. 

God loves each one of us – that’s why we are here. 

God loves all others as well – “Everything belongs,”   

   is how Richard Rohr (a Franciscan brother/spiritual writer), puts it.  

And it’s the love of God, not our love

   that’s the issue here.

It’s not because

we’re nice/especially good people

that we love the world and all life in it. 

We may be that, at times. 

But the basis of our loving/welcoming all –

especially those who others do not or cannot,

is what we know of God and of God’s love.   

Maybe that’s why we have two doors into here

   through the wall that speaks of God’s love. 

Like an old-fashioned school house there is

one door for men and one for women,

two separate doors for young and old,

for rich and poor,

for strong and weak,

two doors even for good and bad. 

There is a door for anyone

   no matter what side of any line you may fall on.   

And beyond the doors, one sanctuary –

one place to be together in worship and praise,

one common and shared place of prayer,

one place to be together in the presence of God –  

because it’s God’s love, not ours,

that is the basis of all we do;

it is God’s goodness, not ours,

that we come here to remember/ground our lives in 

One problem, though. 

The narthex is not the only way in to the church –

it’s only 1 of 3 three ways in,

and other two ways are a lot more ordinary,

not as mindful of the love and goodness of God,

not as insistent on reminding us to let go

of other things we think may qualify us to be here,

or that we may need to do or be, to give us a place. 

I always come in east-side door, even on Sunday –

and the first place I go is up to the Minister’s office. 

I come here to work –

aware of things I need to do,

and standards I’m expected to live up to.   

How often do you feel same way about being here? 

Because even if we come in the front door,

do we always stop to really feel / see / take note

of what it is telling us?   

Or does the gospel message on that wall,

and the gospel feel

  of that open, undiscriminatingly welcoming space

  become just part of the background of the place –

  just a nice decoration? 

----- 

In my own church / Christian family upbringing

the official truth was God’s gracious love for me/all,

but the more active and powerful message

communicated in many ways

and absorbed deep in to my soul

is that being Christian means

being good and nice, well-behaved, moral,

not doing or thinking or even feeling bad things,

not causing grief to others or to the way things are.   

One thing I really learned in church and in family –

and I know I’m not alone in this,

was to lie, cover up,

and hide things in/about myself that didn’t fit in. 

I also learned to judge /silently exclude those

who weren’t as good –

or maybe just not as good at lying

or as interested in disguising themselves. 

A far cry from what the good news of Jesus

and the community of Christ are about.

But that’s what we live with/communicate

especially when we see Christianity

    as a system of morality

and replace worship of God

   with worship – or even idolatry, of morality. 

That’s what the rich young man is dealing with

in the story we read today. 

Young / rich he has learned

that in the world there are winners and losers,

that good or bad luck aside your fate is pretty well

  what you make of it / earn for yourself,

and that even when it looks like you’ve won

   you can never be secure in what you have won. 

So he comes to Jesus

who seems to be a Good Teacher, to ask about

winning/losing/security in God’s kingdom. 

He has done all the good he knows,

but still feels not secure in his goodness,

so what other good is there he can do.   

Jesus says two things.   

1.why do you call me good?

There is none good but God. 

In other words, good/bad

are not meaningful descriptions of people

even in the kingdom of God –

maybe especially in the kingdom of God. 

Remember: there are two doors in,

everyone and everything belongs,

and it’s not our goodness, but God’s

that it’s all about. 

2. instead of trying to be a winner /not a loser,

maybe what he needs to do is

get rid of all he has,

  all he thinks he has won / relies on / counts on,

join the company of destitute / vulnerable –

   the apparent losers,

and then in that place really learn

   about love, God, life,

   himself in relation with other people. 

“I think what you need,” Jesus says,

“is to put yourself in a place where all you can do

is let yourself be embraced by God’s love;

let the love of God, for you and for all, enfold you;

then grow into the real – really true human being

you are capable of being in the world.”

Not a command

   about one more moral thing he can do

Rather an invitation

   to a new way of being … and of seeing everything 

What might this mean for us?

What might Jesus say to us

   here/ now, today/in this sanctuary

in our quest /need to move beyond

   the idolatry of morality,

   the over-emphasis on Christianity

      as being about being good/moral. 

3 things came to mind

No doubt there are more

but 3 is enough for today 

1.focus on the goodness of God –

whenever we are together/talking about things,

whether in worship / over coffee /

in meetings or at dinners,

in our families or among our friends,

as much as we can, focus on the goodness of God.   

It might seem a strange thing to have to suggest here

But we don’t often talk about God. 

Sometimes we talk about everything but God. 

Maybe because some who talk about God,

   focus on God as harsh, negative and judgemental;

   or assume a more intimate/cozy knowledge of God

     as their buddy / personal benefactor

     than we feel comfortable with . 

But what would happen,

what change would begin in our life together

and in how church feels for us and for others,

if we focused more intentionally /openly

on God’s goodness? 

on the free-flowing grace of God’s

  inexhaustible/ultimately redemptive love for all?   

if we held/almost repeated as a mantra

that nice little phrase of Richard Rohr:

“everything belongs”? 

2. to be honest about ourselves here in church –

honest about what we think, do and feel

  what we need and can give

  what we question/ doubt or cannot believe.   

To move beyond anxiety about

  what’s good / bad, what seems acceptable or not. 

To suspend judgement,

  leave that to God in God’s own way and time,

and just be more open / honest about

  who and what and how we are,

  in this place of grace and redeeming love.   

One way of picturing it might be

to see our Opening Prayer of Confession in worship

as a sign of how we live all of our life together here –

not in the sense of always beating ourselves up

   with how “bad” we are,

but to be able to be honest with one another

   about how fully human we are

in the presence of God. 

3. to be open to others –

especially to the ways God is in /with others,

no matter who and where and how they are.  

Loving others as God does / because God does,

does not mean trying to make them / help them

   be like us. 

This is a mistake we often make

   with people of other religious traditions.

We made – and still make this mistake

   with the First Nations of this land. 

We often – maybe almost always,

   make this mistake as parents with our children.   

Do we try to make people just like us,

   because we think

  we’ve achieved a special/unique kind of goodness?

But why do we call ourselves good? 

No one is good but God.   

I wonder if we can get good at being open

  to the ways God is with /in others, apart from us,

  no matter who and where and how

  and how different from us they are?

____ 

Every time we come to worship –

at least if we come in the front door

and take time to really see / feel

the gospel expressed there,

we are reminded, “Let the love of God enfold you.” 

Let the love of God for all that is,

be the cradle and swaddling cloth of your life.   

I wonder what it's like  

  to be drawn week after week

  into that good and gracious a place,

and then week after week

   to let our lives unfold and flow

   from the simple and pure awareness         

   of God’s free / gracious love for all that is?