Monday, October 24, 2016

Sermon (prepared, not preached) from Sunday, Oct 23, 2016

Is "prepared, not preached" at all like "shaken. not stirred"?  (Or am I perhaps at least somewhat over-estimating myself?)

Reading: 2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5 
(As the early church becomes more organized and settled in the world, it struggles sometimes to maintain its real message and witness.  As it finds a place in the marketplace of ideas in Roman cities, it is influenced by other philosophies and teachings as much as it seeks to influence others.   

In the reading today, the church leaders are encouraged to remember the stories and writings of Scripture that have helped heal their lives and make them whole, and they are encouraged to continue to make these things their special gift to the world and society of their time.)


I’ve heard that recent research into marriage and partner-bonding suggests that one way to strengthen the bond with your partner is to spend time some weekend together binge-watching maybe a whole year’s worth of either your or your partner’s favourite TV series.


Do you remember when it used to be that the family that prayed together, stayed together?  Now it seems it’s the couple that watches Big Bang Theory, NCIS or Criminal Minds together, that stays together.

I wonder if the point is that it’s the couple or the family that finds at least part of their identity and meaning in a larger story – that intentionally commits themselves to following and living into a story that is not just themselves, that is strengthened by it.  

TV drama – like prayer and religion at their best, draws us beyond ourselves and our limited perspectives and universes into something wider.  It gives us stories to relate to, and to understand the world by.  Like sitting in line at a Tim Horton’s drive-through, TV gives us a feeling of connection with others beyond ourselves, of being part of a community we do not have to create or maintain, that we are simply invited to be part of, and welcomed into?

Just think how often and how easily phrases and images from TV shows become part of our daily vocabulary and worldview?  “Soup Nazi” from Seinfeld is now the way we often label and dismiss anyone whose simple rules and regulations frustrate us.  “Yadda yadda” has become such an easy way of dismissing and not really taking to heart what someone else is saying, when we just don’t want to listen?  Debra’s half-muttered “Idiot!” about Ray on Everyone Loves Raymond is something that on at least one occasion got me in trouble as a way of minimizing people when they don’t do things the way I would.

Or, more seriously, how often and easily do we and our neighbours now imagine that the streets of the world are simply crawling with criminal minds, that in any 24 hours there will surely be some horrific terrorist attack, that to be a Survivor in the world we have to be as self-centred and manipulative as we can be, and that justice – American Justice or Canadian, is simply about finding out who the bad people are and locking them up or kicking them out so they won’t bother the good people any more, as though the good and the bad are two different races or species of human not meant to be together on the planet.

Now I don’t mean to bash TV.  That’s not the point; there’s lots of good on TV too.  As I remember Muriel Coker saying about people, there’s nothing so bad on TV that there isn’t also some good, and nothing so good that there isn’t also some bad.

The point is rather that we live by stories – that the stories we know and tell ourselves become the glue and character of the community and culture that we are, and that today a lot of the stories that shape who we are, and how we are, are told on and by TV.

So that’s the context in which I hear today’s reading – this encouragement to the Christian community 2000 years ago, to remember what it is they have to offer to the story-making of their time – this encouragement not to forget their own foundational stories even as they come to appreciate others’ – not to let go of the stories that have saved them and helped them become whole and true human beings, because not only do they need these particular stories all their life to stay whole and true, but the world needs them too. 

Which makes me wonder, then, what our stories really are?  What are the stories that save us, that free us from different kinds of slavery or bondage, that help us become whole and true human beings living within the good will of God and the good purpose of Earth?

As I thought about what stories save me, four “big stories” of the Bible came to mind.  It’s a start.  It just scratches the surface.  There are other stories that may be important to you for keeping your life straight.  But these four came to mind for me.

One is the story of creation which, I have to admit, I think I had wrong for most of my life.  Maybe it was told to me wrong, or I took it the wrong way, but to me for a long time the story seemed to be that Earth is a bad place, full of danger and darkness, that I’m stuck here like an innocent pilgrim in a deep, dark forest, and that the happy ending of the story is when I ultimately escape to some other realm, and see Earth as I know it destroyed. 

Probably that story still lives in me to some extent; stories from our childhood are hard to shake.  But now when I read of Adam and Eve, of God and Noah, the delight of the psalmist in the wonder of Earth, and the commitment and tenderness of Jesus towards it, the story I read is one of fullness and glory, of the cosmos as an overflowing of God, Earth as a place of holy wonder and delight, and all life on Earth as an interwoven miracle to be cherished, delighted in, and cared for.  It’s a different story than I first thought, and I feel called to be different myself because of it.  The specifics of the stories we tell ourselves matter.

And that’s a second story – the story of people called out and chosen, called forward and challenged to be God’s people in the world.  Abraham and Sarah, of course.  Before them, Noah and his family.  And after them, all kinds of people in both the Old and New Testaments who leave what they know to journey to something they don’t know, for the sake of something new that will be good. 

And not just for themselves and their own good.  It’s not a story of 49’ers rushing west to find gold and make their million.  Or of the one in a million lucky – or unlucky, enough to win the lottery.  Or even of leaving the safety of home to drive to Towers early one morning close to Christmas to line up and fight with others to be one of the few to get the Batmobiles that we were promised would be there – which I must admit is part of my story.

The biblical story, though, is one of people who leave what they know and journey to something they don’t, for the sake of a promise that by doing that they will be able to become a source of blessing for others – in some way, for all the world, really.  It’s a story that’s told all through the Bible, through a lot of different characters.  And I’m happy to think it’s part of my story as well – that at times it’s at least in the mix of the variety of stories, often conflicting, that I live out.

Which brings me to a third – the story of brokenness and reconciliation, of people going off the rails, making mistakes and breaking relationships who find and commit to ways of telling the truth, being reconciled and being healed.  Cain and Abel is a story of two brothers who don’t manage it; Jacob and Esau, the story of two who do.  And all through the book there are stories of people who manage it or don’t – from someone as high as King David, to someone as low as down-and-dirty Zaccheus.  It’s also whole nations at times like the people of Israel, and communities and institutions like the followers of Jesus.  The story of really telling the truth about what was done, of humbly seeking reconciliation, and patiently living together towards recovery and healing is one I’ve often had to live – and am still living in my own life, and it’s a story that we know is also good for the world around us to hear and take seriously if we are really to be true and authentic people.

And then there’s the story of how you actually get what you really need in life.  It’s the story of Jesus, but it’s not just Jesus.  It’s a story that, once you see it in him, you see in all kinds of places – on every page of the Bible and in all kinds of stories in the world.

It’s story of getting by giving up.  Of becoming rich by letting go and sharing.  Of becoming secure by making yourself open and vulnerable.  Of finding happiness most deeply by finding it together with your enemy.  Of being strong and centred enough inside to bend outside to serve another’s need.  Of letting the cross be the way you are lifted up towards heaven on Earth.

Again, it’s a story that I know in part.  And that I hope I live at least in part, as well.  Because the stories we know, the stories we tell ourselves, and the stories we come to live, all matter.

So I wonder what stories are yours? 

What stories of true and authentic life, of good life, of holy life from our Scriptures are yours? 

That in the midst of everything else, you want to remember? 

And after everything else, be remembered for?


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