Sunday, December 17, 2017

Whatcha buildin', God? (Need any help?) sermon from Sunday, Dec 17, 2017

Reading:  Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

(The people of Israel are back in their own land, rebuilding what was destroyed when they went into exile.  The rebuilding is slow and frustrating.  But the prophet assures them God wills a new kingdom for them -- one that will draw the admiration of all the world for the way it re-organizes society according to God's care for the poor and oppressed.

In the reading, the word "liberty" in "liberty to the captives" is a word used to describe the release of slaves in the sabbatical year.  It was one of God's laws that every seven years, any person who had entered into servitude to another because of unpaid debts, bankruptcy or any other reason, was to be freed, all debts cancelled and forgiven, and be given a free and fresh start again in life.

The phrase, "the year of the Lord's favour" is the year of Jubilee -- the 50th year, the year after every seven seven-year cycles, when all property gained at the expense of other people or taken from them is to be returned to its original owner -- again, to give everyone a chance to start over, to go back to square one, everyone on equal footing and on their home square.



Joseph was a carpenter.  Which means he wasn’t really poor.  At least, not the poorest of the poor.

He had his tools.  His trade.  And work for which he would be paid.  Maybe not always with money.  Sometimes with a chicken or two, or some grain for meal, or some oil for heating and lighting his house.  But he had an income he could count as his own.

And his work was portable.  He wasn’t tied to a piece of land, and to the whims of weather, markets and an unjust landlord.  He could go where the work was – within reason.  And with where he was living – in Nazareth, in the northern province of Galilee, an area of considerable unrest and sporadic uprisings against the government in Jerusalem and the empire in Rome, where every now and then the army would have to come in and root out a few zealots, knock down a few houses, burn a few buildings to the ground that would have to be rebuilt – along with whatever normal jobs he had putting on additions for growing families, building chicken coops, making tables, carving door posts, making oxen yokes, maybe even crafting family altars, Joseph was as close as anyone in those days could be to being guaranteed a good living.

Which means Jesus, had he learned the trade from his father, accepted his father’s tools, and taken over the business, could have had a good and comfortable life.  He had a rough start – born in a Bethlehem barn because of the Emperor Caesar’s untimely edict and the absence of Trivago or even a travel agent to book a room ahead, and then a few years in Egypt as a refugee family because of King Herod’s political paranoia and insecurity.  But once that was over and the family settled into Nazareth, Jesus could have had the good and comfortable life that all parents probably want, and spend their lives working for their children to have. 

Except Jesus was drawn to something else.  To being a different kind of carpenter.  Building something else in the world.  Working with a blueprint for something other than houses and tables and oxen yokes.

The Gospel of Matthew tells a story of twelve-year-old Jesus wandering away from his parents on a trip to Jerusalem, to sit in the Temple and chat with the scribes and the teachers of God’s law.  “I must be about my Father’s business – capital-F father,” he said. 

New studies in the historical Jesus suggest he actually went to rabbinical school to study Torah – the Law and the Prophets, and all the traditions around them.  Joseph was well-off enough to give him that opportunity.  But Jesus came to interpret the Law and the Prophets differently than his teachers.  He saw things in the tradition they overlooked.  He took seriously the things about the good will and love of God they explained away.  He grew restless with the rules and restrictions they placed on the people to keep them divided from one another and under control.

Which leads to what we read in the Gospel of Luke – in chapter 4, just 2 chapters after the story of his Bethlehem birth – where we read of the now-adult Jesus, 30 years old, leaving the school and its distortion of the real will of God, to start teaching God’s kingdom in the towns and villages of Galilee, healing and casting out unclean spirits, forgiving people their sins and setting them free for new life, calling them together and creating new grassroots networks of inclusive spiritual community … until finally he works his way back to Nazareth, and one sabbath day in the synagogue, when it’s his turn to read, he reads the Scripture for the day, which was the same that we had today from the prophet Isaiah – the one that includes God’s ancient laws of compassion and freedom for those who fall into unjust debt and servitude, and forgiveness and support for families that along the way lose their place in the world.  Jesus reads the same words we heard David read today:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, [he reads]
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim
release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free.

Then, he rolls up the scroll.  Gives it back to the attendant.  Sits down – as the teacher for the day would, before beginning the interpretation of the reading.  And with the eyes of all in the synagogue fixed on him, he utters these momentous words, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.  The kind of world Isaiah talked about God building, is being built all around you even as we speak.  The blueprint God has given us to follow, to make the world over into the kind of world God desires Earth to be, is the blueprint that I and others who are with me, are following.”

At which point they run him out of town.

The prophet Isaiah, whom Jesus and we have read, lived in a time of rebuilding.  The people of Israel were back home in the promised land, after years of exile.  Everything they had left behind was in ruins, and they were trying to rebuild the city, reconstruct the Temple, regain the life they had known, restore the glory they used to have. 

And it wasn’t working.  Things weren’t fitting together the way they used to.  They leaders couldn’t agree on what to start first.  People weren’t working together very well.  The rebuilding and reconstruction of the kingdom was not going well.  They were not succeeding in making Israel great again the way they remembered it.

To which Isaiah says, “The problem may be you’re not focused on building what God wants, and what God is doing among us.  God isn’t really into rebuilding what used to be.  Just reconstructing the kingdom the way we remember it, isn’t what God has in mind. 

“Because what God wants to do – and already is doing, is to build a different kind of kingdom, a different kind of social structure, a different kind of community than the old one was.  God has a blueprint for how the world is to work, a blueprint that aims at forgiveness, compassion and support as social norms, and God is calling people – even right here and now, to help build up the world we have into the kind of world God wants it to be – a world, a society, a kind of kingdom, a network of communities that will be good news to the poor, will free the captives, will offer new life for the oppressed, and create hope for all who have been left out and excluded – nothing less than the good will of God done on Earth as in heaven.”

I can imagine that promise, and that vision of God already and always building the world in the way it’s intended to be, being somewhat unsettling to people around Isaiah who were tied to their place of privilege in the way the kingdom used to be.  But to Isaiah and to those who followed him, and many who heard him, the message was joyful.

And isn’t it also, for us, part of the joy of Christmas? 

That in the birth of Jesus we see God coming in with both feet, entering fully into the life of this world to help build it the way it’s to be? 

To show us that much more clearly – in living colour and life-size, really, what the blueprint really is? 

And thus to call us that much more deeply and lovingly into helping to make the world over into the kind of society, the kind of kingdom, the kind of communities God really intends this world to be?

We live it out so happily at Christmas.   

And we know the call to live it out all year.

Thanks be to God.          

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Tidings of comfort and joy: connecting the dots (sermon from Sun, Dec 10, 2017)



Reading:  Isaiah 40.1-11

(After many long years, and 39 chapters of mostly woe -- bad news, loss, judgement and remorse, the prophet brings a message of hope -- of not only maybe-in-the-future salvation from God, but a salavtion and a new day that are right around the corner, and already appearing.  The prophet himself seems to find it hard to believe.  But there it is!  Can we believe it?)


 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her
that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.

In other words: enough!  Time for the hurting to stop.  And the healing to begin.

Do you ever get tired of bad news?  Of American politics?  And Canadian?  All over the world, stories of terrorism, civil war, religious and ethnic cleansing, and genocide?  Of environmental collapse and the extinction of species?  Of women abused and assaulted in the name of male privilege and power?  Of how even our newest vehicles of mass communication – Facebook, Google and Twitter, have been co-opted, manipulated and turned into juggernauts of mass mis-information?

And local stories, too.  It’s not just the big picture that scares and depresses us.

This past week most of Hamilton has been paying attention to the story of 19-year-old Yosif Al-Haswani, an immigrant with his family from Iraq, a first-year student athlete at Brock aspiring to be a doctor, who a week ago walked out of his mosque on Main near Wellington where he was attending a religious celebration, saw an elderly man being accosted by two young men, intervened to protect the old man, and was shot and killed.  And as the story has unfolded over the week, his death may have been unnecessary, because medical personnel at the scene did not recognize in time just how seriously he was injured.

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem …
Tidings of comfort and joy!  Comfort and joy! 
Oh tidings of comfort and joy!

Israel in the Book of Isaiah is in need of comfort and joy.  For years and years, and for chapter after chapter through the first 39 chapters of the book of the prophet, the news has been mostly bad.  Their unfaithfulness that they needed to see.  Judgement and the loss of the kingdom to pagan enemies and empires that they needed to accept.  Exile and alienation from their own heritage that they needed to live through.

Through all those years and those 39 chapters there were occasional optimistic words.  A few hopeful promises of God sending a new kind of king to restore the kingdom and bring peace to the world – promises that we see fulfilled somehow in Christ, and in the body of Christ.

But I wonder if the people and even the prophet himself sometimes found it hard to really believe the promises that were made, and that they would ever see them fulfilled.  Because when the tone changes in the reading today, in chapter 40, from bad news to good, from only-future promise to present fulfilment, it’s almost as though the prophet himself has to be convinced of it really happening.

The way it’s written, it’s like there’s an outside voice – the voice of a stranger, someone standing outside the place of despair, telling the prophet to look – really look, and to listen – really listen, to what is happening and to what God is actually doing in his time.

“Do you hear it?” the stranger says.  “Do you hear the simple message?  ‘Comfort, O comfort my people!’ Your God is saying to you.  ‘Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her penalty is paid – more than paid, and the time of hurting is over.’ ”

“In the wilderness that you’re so afraid of,” the voice goes on, “God wants a road to be built – a road you will make with your own good actions, that will let God come with visions of glory and new life, a road God will use to come as a shepherd to care for his flock, gathering up and carrying the lambs in his arms, gently leading the mother sheep to good pasture.”

Sometimes it takes a while and voices from outside ourselves to help us really believe and to choose to live into the hope of the promise.

One Sunday after worship a few weeks ago Marg Simpson shared with me her happiness after attending a memorial at the hospital, for the families of persons who have died and whose donated organs have been used to enrich and save the lives of others.  Marg said she went to the service with a little trepidation at having to re-live her grief, but once there was surprised by deep joy and gratitude instead for the ways in which Steve’s generosity of life has allowed other people to be able to see and live again.

Shortly after that I had a phone call from Cam Cocks telling me that Amy, Don and Norma Brown’s grand-daughter who for most of her life has been living with a rare blood disorder and for the last few years has been waging a losing battle with time on a waiting list for a kidney transplant, had just received a gift of a kidney from a woman in BC who found out about Amy’s plight on Facebook and fought her way through all kinds of red tape and problems, to make it happen.  A new lease on life just when the old one seemed closer to expiring.

Just a few days after that, a story in The Spectator – on the same day and even the same page as the story of the shooting of Yosif Al-Haswani, a story about a husband and young father saved by a kidney transplant arranged through the Kidney Paired Donation Program run by Canada Blood Services.  Since its inception in 2009 the program has arranged 556 donations and transplants across the country – 21 right here at St Joe’s in Hamilton.

Three separate stories in the matter of maybe two weeks of lives saved through the sacrificial generosity of others – of strangers.  And when you connect the dots, a picture starts to appear.  An image of new life in the face of death.  Of comfort and joy in the midst of darkness and anxiety.  Of human – maybe divine, goodness afoot in the world against coldness and sorrow.

I shouldn’t be surprised, though.  Because here we’re spending most of the Advent season – one of the busiest, most stressful, and most expensive seasons for any of us, doing good and reaching out to others with gifts of compassion and care.  The collection last week of mitts, hats, scarves, food and gifts for the Wesley Christmas and Holiday Store.  This week for a hamper of holiday food and gifts for the Assad family.  And next weekend, preparing and serving a hot meal for the patrons of the Wesley Centre.

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.…
Build a road in the wilderness,
Clear a path through the chaos,
Make a way into the present moment
for the good will of God to come near,
for the healing, nurturing presence of God to be made known.

And it isn’t just Christ’s church that is living this out.  In the same section of The Spec a week ago that carried the first story of Yosif Al-Haswani and of the Kidney Paired Donation Program – just 2 pages on, there was a story about a meeting this afternoon at First Unitarian Church where people of all faiths are invited to a two-hour “Speed-Meet Different Beliefs” event.  It’s like a speed-dating event, except here instead of 15-minute session to find a date, people will move around to have 8 15-minute sessions with different people each time to talk about their different beliefs, to break down at least some of the barriers of misunderstanding that too often keep us from creating real community together

I wonder if some members of the Sikh Temple that recently gave $10,000 to the stem cell centre at the Juravinski (also reported in The Spec) will be there.  Or if maybe some members of Yosif Al-Haswani’s mosque might be there too. 

The story of his death reminds us there is sometimes a price to be paid – a sacrifice to be made, for believing in and living out the way of God.  Maybe always a price and sacrifice of some kind.

But when we grow tired of bad news, there is an answer – to let ourselves see and hear the good news of what God is doing in our time, to take the time to connect the dots to see what kind of new life is appearing around us, and then to do our part in making a way for the glory of God’s good will and love to be seen in our time and in our city. 

And then we, like the prophet Isaiah, can honestly sing:

God rest ye merry, O gentlemen; let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's pow'r when we were gone astray.
Oh! tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy!

Thanks be to God.