Toward Sunday, September 15, 2013

Season:        Creation -- Sunday 2
Scripture:     Psalm 19
Sermon:       Hear my wisdom

How do I know God?  And how do I know how to live?

The last verse of Psalm 19 suggests that this psalm is all about how we become good people, and scholars once thought it held two different answers -- that Psalm 19 is really made up of two different psalms that at some point were awkwardly stuck together. 

They saw verses 1-6 as one psalm, focused on how "the heavens are telling the glory of God" -- i.e. that Earth by itself speaks a universal "natural theology" that tells all humanity what we need to know about God and how to live, and that everyone can know it by listening closely to the voice of Earth and its life systems.

They saw verses 7-13 as another psalm, talking about how "the law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul" -- i.e. that aside from creation and how it works, there is a special "revealed theology" of laws that God gives to a chosen people to make them good and pleasing to God (and ready for heaven) in a way that others are not.

Between the two I used to believe the second more than (even instead of) the first.  The result was a spiritual snobbery among other people, and a deep dis-connect in my spirit from the life of Earth -- both of which probably still persist.

But what if the two are really not different at all?  What if this has always been one psalm and a single message?

Some scholars now suggest that the key verse of this psalm is verse 3: 

     "There is no speech, nor are there words;
     [the witness of Earth is "just there" for all to hear in their heart];
     their voice is not heard.
     [but we just don't listen]."

Might it be true that Earth and its systems of life really do tell all humanity all we need to know about God and true life, but that a lot of the time we do not listen and God therefore has to tell us more directly with laws about how best to live?

If this is true ... then people who know how to listen to Earth and its systems of life are on the same page as us, we are not necessarily better or more holy than them, and maybe they even have something to teach us ... and the purpose of the laws God gives us is not so much to make us good enough for heaven, but more to make us good enough for proper life on and within Earth.

Wow ... to me, that seems enough for a Monday. 

I know for the rest of the week I'll be thinking about natural and revealed theology ... the meaning of the wisdom of people like the First Nations and other groups more in touch with Earth than I am ... my own disconnect from Earth and whether I can overcome it ... whether the current findings of evolutionary science, the new physics and neuro-science tell us the same thing as God's law ... and whether God is known just as well (or even better) in a garden or on a good hard hike, as in church ...

This is going to be quite a week ... hope it is for you too.  See you Sunday? 

Towards Sunday, September 8, 2013

Series:       Listening to Creation (Season of Creation)
Scripture:  Psalm 148 and Romans 8:18-27
Sermon:     Enjoy My Songs (and join in when you want)

One night last week I sat outside in the dark listening to the cicadas in the trees of the escarpment behind our house.  The sound was intense and unremitting, and of such beauty that it made me also aware of the deep and restful silence of Earth into which it was offered as a chorus of praise through that night.  I could not help but know -- and be thankful, that I am part of something larger and more majestic than myself, and that it is good.

At that moment I was consciously thankful for ears to hear, and for darkness in which to hear more clearly.  I also thought about how often and in how many ways we close our ears daily against the sounds and songs of Creation, choosing instead to listen to lesser songs and sounds of our design in our homes, in our cars, at work, and even when we walk, run and ride.  Do we become what we listen to?

The next six weeks might be a lot of fun at Fifty.  We celebrate the Season of Creation -- a relatively new liturgical season of the six weeks ending with Thanksgiving Sunday, which is focused on that one wonderful line in our New Creed "to live with respect in Creation."  Especially in a place like Winona and the edge of Niagara, and with people so opened to the life of Earth, this can be a great time for us together on Sunday mornings! 

Each week's worship focus is a different request that we can imagine Earth making of us.  This week's is "Enjoy My Songs (and join in when you want)."

Psalm 148 is a magnificent recitation of the variety of ways in which Earth in all its parts offers unending songs of praise to God.  The verses from Romans 8 are a reminder that not all of Earth's singing is joyful, though; Earth also groans for redemption and healing.  And the live question in both readings is how we join in on Earth's songs.  What part are we given to sing in what Annie Dillard so wonderfully calls "the general chorus"? 

Sermon from Sunday, September 1, 2013

Scripture:   John 20:1-9, 19-29
Hymn:         Jesus, Stand Among Us
Sermon:      Why Sunday?

Jesus, stand among us in your risen power;
let this time of worship be a hallowed hour.

Breathe the Holy Spirit into every heart;
bid the fears and sorrows from each soul depart.

Lead our hearts to wisdom till our doubting cease.
and to all assembled speak your word of peace.

_____________

Why is Sunday our holy day?

For Muslims, Friday is the holy day because it’s the 6^th day of creation, when humanity is created by God and given the job by God of taking care of the world -- so Friday is humanity’s birthday -- a day for prayer, for remembering the beginning of our life and the meaning of our life, and to recommit to it in prayer and worship of the God who brings us to life.

 

For Jews, it’s Saturday -- the 7^th day of creation when God rests, declares everything good and invites us into rest as well -- so Saturday is a day not to work, to rest in the goodness and creative love of God, and remember that ultimately it is God, and not we, who holds all things together, makes them good, and makes our life good as well.

 

For Christians, though, it’s Sunday that’s the holy day because this is the day of resurrection -- the day when the followers of Jesus see the tomb -- the dead-end-of-life broken open and emptied, and the risen Jesus appears among them -- helping them understand the Scriptures’ message that death is not the end but the beginning of new life … breaking bread with them and feeding their tired souls … speaking peace to them and promising them power from God to be witnesses of new life to all the world.

 

When Sunday begins they think it’s over – the week in Jerusalem that was to be the week that changed the world is done; the window of opportunity has passed; Jesus and the kingdom of God that had come to life through him have been crushed under the heel of Jerusalem and Rome, of church and state … 

 

… and now in the cold light of Sunday, the day after the sabbath, the beginning of another week, it is time to go back to work, to where they have come from, to the same old grind… those who speak of cycles and never-ending circles of sameness seem to be right … it is foolish to think there can/ will be anything new under the sun and in the world we inhabit …we know what that feels like … what it feels like to think that.

 

But then, as the sun of that Sunday morning begins to work its way into their consciousness, they see the newest thing of all – an opened and emptied tomb … what does this mean?  And then the risen Jesus among them ... the new meaning at the heart of everything!

 

They see in the light of that Sunday that this is not the week that was, just repeated, but a new week entirely … a new creation of God just begun … the world made anew … calling for new ways of living and loving and speaking of God’s love and new life into all the week ahead …

 

And so, as the story says, they meet the next Sunday as well … because this now is the Lord’s Day … the day of the revelation of his resurrection and his appearing among them … and the story says they find the same thing again … as they meet he appears and stands among them again … answering their questions, meeting their doubts, breaking bread with them, and sharing God’s power and peace with them …

 

And so they continue, week after week … Sunday, the day after the sabbath, becomes the holy day for Christians to gather … even those who still keep Saturday as a day of rest with their Jewish brothers and sisters, they take the time as well early Sunday morning to meet with other Christian believers … and more often than not, they find themselves in new, vitalizing, hope-creating, strengthening encounters with the risen One as they read scripture, break bread, give thanks  … 

 

Jesus stood among them …

 

Jesus stand among us … 

 

It really doesn’t matter if this is a day of rest or of work … a civic sabbath or not … What matters is that we gather as we can to read scripture, break bread and give thanks, that Jesus stands among us, and that we continue to grow in our openness to him and the gift of new life …

Towards Sunday, September 1, 2013

Scripture:   Mark 16:1-8
Sermon:     Why Sunday?

Sunday is not the sabbath day of rest commanded in Ex 20 and Deut. 5.  The "seventh day" -- the day to rest in God's good creation of all that is, and to remember God frees us of our enslavements -- is Saturday, and well into the fourth century Christians kept the Saturday Sabbath along with our Jewish brothers and sisters.

But Sunday also became a holy day to Christians because it is the day of Jesus's resurrection -- hence their reference to it as "the Lord's Day."  In the Gospel stories (Mk. 16:1-8; Mt. 28:1-10; Lk. 24:1-12, 13-53; John  20:1-23, 26-29) it's Sunday when Jesus's followers see the emptied tomb and the risen Jesus appears among them -- helping them understand the Scriptures, breaking bread with them, speaking peace, and promising them power as witnesses to God's kingdom in the world.  As they start a new week and they prepare to get back to their work-a-day lives, the risen Jesus appears in their gathering to help them see that life and the world are now different, that a new power of life is at work in the world, and that they carry it within them.

Christians continued to gather on Sundays, even though many also continued to keep the Saturday Sabbath.  And because it was not a civic day of rest until 321 C.E. (under the Emperor Constantine), they gathered probably early in the morning before beginning work -- to read Scripture, break bread and give thanks -- all in the expectation that the risen Jesus would be in their midst, giving them what they needed to truly be God's people and the body of Christ in their work and in the world's life in the week ahead.

This Sunday we meet one last time with the folks of Wesley United for shared worship, before getting back to our own buildings and work for the fall.  We'll read Scripture, break bread and give thanks.  And one of the hymns Karen has picked for us is "Jesus, Stand Among Us."

Sermon from August 25, 2013

This week, I was watching the trailer for a film being shown next month as part of the Art Gallery of Hamilton World Film Festival.  The film is titled BridgeWalkers, and it’s about indigenous leaders around the world who gather to share the sacred knowledge of their people to help us reconnect with Earth, the Creator and our own deepest hearts.  They share their wisdom, their prophecies and their ceremonies because, as one of the elders – Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq, an Inuit shaman from Greenland, explains, “we know from our ceremony what is going to happen if only people would listen.  The gift of the red man [and others who still listen to spiritual ceremony] is a vision that could unite [hu]mankind, to lay the foundation for the new life that was prophesied and has arrived.”

 

It’s in ancient and traditional ceremony with its rites, teachings, wisdom, and prophecies, that the key to the future is held, that men and women learn how best to live in the world, that the human heart is opened to the Higher Power, the Divine Presence, the Word and Spirit of God.

 

Indigenous people know this on a global scale.  They also know it on an individual, personal level.  Years ago I heard that the renewal and resurrection of the First Nations people in Western Canada has been due in part to their high rate of incarceration in our country’s prisons.  Not that our prison system is designed for spiritual rehabilitation, but the native community in Western Canada committed itself to providing First Nations’ elders and teachers to the prison population, and it’s been in prison that many First Nations’ people have been re-introduced to the traditional ceremonies, teachings and wisdom.  And it’s helped them find wholeness and a level of spiritual life they didn’t know before they went in.

 

I wonder if Jesus found and gained the same thing when he gathered in the synagogue to share the rituals, the rites and the ancient teachings of his people.  At the heart of synagogue worship was the reading and veneration of the Word of God handed down among the people from generation to generation.  And the reading of the Word was surrounded by interpretation of its meaning, prayers for its fulfillment, and ritual to bring it and the people to life in the way God intended them to be.

 

In the midst of whatever life might be at the moment, whatever state the world might be in, and whatever the world might be asking them to become – in the synagogue the people of God gather to recite the One Holy story still unfolding, to remember the vision of the world that is and will be, and to pray for the power of the future now.  It’s the vision and promise of a healed and reconciled world, where sickness does not destroy, where community is not be divided into clean and unclean, where none are excluded or devalued.

 

And this is what then comes to be in Jesus.  He hears it remembered and sees it acted out in the sabbath rites, and then he acts it out and performs it both inside and outside  the synagogue, both in the holy gathering and later in the home of one his friends’ mother-in-law.  And as it says in the reading, “at once his fame begins to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.”  In the words of the Inuit shaman, Jesus acts out “the vision that can unite [hu]mankind, to lay the foundation for the new life that was prophesied and has arrived” – what Jesus calls “the kingdom of God.”

 

And what about us?  Is it this way for us and among us as well?

 

When I studied theology a generation ago one of the images of worship I learned, is that worship is a dress rehearsal – or even a little production of life in heaven, and of the kingdom of God on earth.  And isn’t that true?

 

Think of the image in Isaiah 6 of angels around the throne in the temple of God, high and lifted up.  Each angel has 6 wings – with 2 they cover their faces (because who can behold God and live?), with 2 they cover their feet (because whose walk in life is clean enough to be worthy of God), and with 2 they fly (because who lives all the time in God’s presence).  And they call out to one another, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of God’s glory” – the first three words of which are the title of the hymn we used to sing every Sunday.  Isn’t this a description of what we do when we gather here?

 

Think of our current liturgy.  We begin with a time and with words of gratitude for God’s goodness and love.  Then we pray for openness to see ourselves and our world with clarity and honesty.   We take time to reflect on our life of the past week -- giving thanks for times we were close to God, asking forgiveness for times we were distant.  Then knowing God’s love and mercy, we offer one another assurances of the peace of Christ, and take time to open ourselves to what God may want us to know and commit to for the week ahead.  

 

It’s simple.  We do it every week.  And isn’t it our way of living out the drama of heaven and the kingdom of God on earth?  At its best the church’s worship is rich and poor, men and women and children, young and old, straight and gay, black and white, strong and weak, even believers and semi-believers – all together through ceremony and teachings and rituals and ancient wisdom, finding our place again and again in the story of the world as it is, and as it will be in God’s good will.

 

Is this, though, what our worship is about?  Is this what it does for us?  

 

I think our reading this morning gives us a couple of questions to help us in this direction.  They come from what we see in Jesus, and how he conducts himself in the synagogue.  The questions have to do with the variety of voices that can be heard, and how Jesus chooses to listen to them.

 

On one hand, there are at least three familiar voices that are easy to hear.  There’s the voice of tradition, traditional piety, and the rules associated with it; this is the voice of the Pharisees, who know what’s been done in the past to keep the tradition alive, and who think they know what should always be done and not done.  There’s the voice of common sense and of consequence which in this case is the voice of the demons; the little powers of this world that can capture our hearts, dominate our lives, and make us afraid of anything unsettling or liberating.  And there’s the voice of self-centredness – in this case, the voice of Jesus’ disciples and the townspeople who want Jesus to stay just with them and relieve them of all their problems – be our messiah, and only ours, they say.

 

On one level all three of these voices are true and worth listening.  It is important to know how to keep the tradition alive, and to keep the rites and ceremonies true to their ancient roots.  It is true as well that when the power of God is unleashed, it is unsettling to the order we know and are familiar with.  It’s also true that we want to be healed ourselves, that the kingdom of God starts at home, and that we can’t really bear witness to God’s healing and reconciling power if we don’t experience it ourselves.

 

But Jesus puts all these voices in their proper place.  Without denying or disputing what they say, he also knows they are not the only voices to be heard.  Although true, none of them tell the whole truth.  Even together, they do not tell the whole story.

 

To get the whole story, there are two other voices Jesus opens his ears and his heart to.  One is the voice of those in the world who suffer – in this case, the man held in the power of a demon of his time, Peter’s mother-in-law lying in bed with a fever, the people of the town who crowd around the house that evening with all their diseases and demons, and then the next morning in prayer, all the people in sorrow in all the other villages and countryside of Galilee.  That’s one voice Jesus listens deeply for.

 

The other is the voice of God – God’s Spirit of life, God’s Word of reconciliation and healing, God’s vision and desire for what the world is created to be.  Jesus listens intently for this voice as well, because it isn’t always the same – doesn’t always say the same things as the voice of tradition, of common sense, or of personal need.  

 

And it’s hard to know which he listens for harder and more deeply – the voice of the world’s suffering and sorrowful, or the voice of God’s promise and power.  Maybe, with Jesus, they just always go together.

 

Whatever the case, though, two questions to check our own practice of worship are quite simple.  

 

One: when we gather in worship, do we put into proper perspective and into their proper place the voices of tradition, of common sense, and of self-centredness?  

 

And two:  do we listen especially hard and deeply for the voices of the world’s suffering and sorrow, and of God, so we too grow into a vision that can unite humankind towards new life in the world … so we too feel the Spirit of God renewed in us …so we too find ourselves learning the lines of the kingdom of God on Earth that the world longs to hear us speaking and acting out?

Towards Sunday, August 25, 2013

Scripture:     Mark 1:21-39
Sermon:       Sabbath -- Saying Yes and No

One Sabbath in Capernaum Jesus heals two people (and breaks a number of Sabbath and purity laws in the process).  That night (when the Sabbath is over, probably because they don't want to break any Sabbath laws and have the Pharisees mad at them, too) the people of the town crowd around the house where he is, with their ailments and their ailing, and Jesus heals them all.  Their ailments set them apart, make them seem cursed by God, and make them less-than-equal to other members of the community (do we still treat any classes of people this way today?), and Jesus sets them free to be part of the kingdom of God that he says is now.  Then, the next day, after spending time in prayer, although there are still more people to be healed, Jesus leaves town.

Two things stand out for me in this story.  One is the Sabbath and the way it seems to bring out the devil in Jesus.  The Gospel tells story after story about Jesus and the Pharisees being at loggerheads about how best to keep Sabbath with God.  It's how it all starts, and remains such a running battle all the way through to the bitter end (and we know who holds the power in that dispute.)

The other is the way Jesus doesn't seem to listen.  Just think of all the voices Jesus doesn't heed -- sometimes doesn't even allow to speak, in this story:

• the Pharisees and other traditionalists, and their understanding (which most people happily accept) of how best to honour God on the Sabbath
• the demons of his time (whose "common sense" he knows, from his own 40 days in the wilderness, can be very persuasive)
• his own disciples who simply want him to go back to where he was, to satisfy the people's desire for more healing -- and what can be wrong with that?

Might there be a connection between these two -- between Jesus's distinctive practice of the Sabbath and his apparent deafness to religious tradition, the spirit(s) of his time, and the self-centred desires of those who love him?

Does keeping Sabbath help open Jesus  to listen to other voices?  If so, what are they? 

And does this have any effect on what Sabbath is for us?

Sermon from Sunday, August 18, 2013

Scripture:  Mark 2:23 – 3:6

Sermon:  Sabbath – celebrating the presence of God 

Catholics know it.  Every time they gather for Mass with a priest who knows how to do the rite of the eucharist correctly, their theology and their faith experience make it possible for them to know the Real Presence of Christ in their worship.

 

Eastern Orthodox know it.  When they meet for holy worship everything about their sanctuary and their style or worship – the gold and silver, the candlelight and sunlight, the statues and icons and paintings, the incense and the chanting and the ritual – all combine to let them know that in worship they are in the anteroom of heaven, touching the very hem of the glory of the God of all heaven and earth.

 

Pentecostals know it.  In the way they create a space of freedom for uninhibited speech, movement, action and song, in their worship they are able to know the movement and vitality of holy Spirit in their midst. 

Quakers know the same thing in a different way.  Learning to be at rest in body and mind, in quietness they bring to silence the chatter of the human heart with all its thoughts and opinions and agendas, until one or two, maybe three are able to bring to humble voice something of the Word and Wisdom of the eternal God for that moment in their life. 

Jesus knows it, too.  In the synagogue on a sabbath with others to pray and hear the Word of God, he knows the Word as something that God is speaking in the present moment, knows Spirit as something filling the place where he is, knows God as alive and active right where they are for the sake of healing and making whole, forgiving and setting free, calling and empowering for kingdom life in the world. 

And it scares the heck out of the Pharisees, because this is not what they have been trained for.  They have been trained to read the Scriptures and interpret them to the people.  They have been educated to know the tradition, and help the people carry it on.  They are practiced in following the law, and helping the people do the same as much as they can. 

For the Pharisees, the presence of God is mostly past and future.  In days of old, God acted in great and marvelous ways to save our ancestors and make us a people.  In days to come God will act again and we pray for the day to come; we fervently long for it.  And to help in its coming, in the present moment we do what we can to be faithful to the tradition, to keep it alive, and keep it pure. 

That concern for the purity of the tradition is why in the story we’ve read today Jesus doesn’t do anything to heal the man with a withered hand.  He knows the Pharisees’ concern not to break the law about not doing any work on the sabbath.  Keeping sabbath is one of the things that sets the people of God apart from the rest of the world.  It’s central to being a Jew, so the Pharisees are very fussy about it. 

Jesus isn’t very happy, though, with the way they go about it.  Verse 5 says he looks at the Pharisees in anger for the way they understand the sabbath and what God desires.  It also says he feels sorry for them, that he grieves their hardness of heart and the way it limits what they can accept and be open to. 

But aware of what they feel, and not wanting to cause offence about the wrong thing, he simply speaks two words of command to the man – first, to come forward and stand in front of everyone in the synagogue (nothing wrong with that), and then to stretch out his hand (nothing wrong with that). 

The problem for the Pharisees is that when the man stretches out his hand, his withered arm is no longer withered.  It’s healed.  Jesus has not touched him, massaged his arm, lifted him up, put paste on his arm or done any of the things often done in acts of healing.  It’s not Jesus but God who has done this thing.  It’s God who is in their midst and doing great and marvelous things to heal and save in the present moment.   

And this is not something they’re ready for, not something they’re trained to manage, not something within their control.  So they decide pretty quickly to put a stop to it.   

Which brings us to the question of us, and how we prepare for and respond to God’s presence in our worship – of whether the God we know in worship is God of past and future, or God who is moving and doing great things here and now in our church and in the world in the present moment? 

Sometimes we’re anxious about the future of the church, and I wonder if our anxiety makes us think maybe God isn’t here, or makes us forget to focus on how God is present.  We focus instead on things like finances and membership and programs and trends in society.  But while it’s good that we talk about these things, and about what we need to learn, and how maybe we need to change and grow into something new as a church, do these things and our need to change and to grow mean that God is not here right now? 

A few weeks ago Gary Patterson, our church’s moderator, was at a gathering in Naramata at which the precarious future of the church as we know it was being considered.  In the midst of that conversation, though, Gary asked to participants to reflect for a few minutes on some recent experience they may have had of the church really being the church – of “church” really happening even in the midst of all our concerns about its future.  And what people had to offer was really quite amazing – it was “good news” story after story where people have experienced “real church,” a moment in the life of their faith community when they felt connected with the Spirit, with God; where they have been consoled, or stretched, or forgiven and supported, inspired or filled; moments when they were thankful that what they dreamed of, as church, actually happened. 

I’ve also mentioned here the story in The Hamilton Spactator just over a week ago about the church that happens on Sunday afternoons in the sanctuary and on the grounds of St. Paul’s Presbyterian in downtown Hamilton – Eucharist Church, that’s made up of a few hundred mostly-youngish people who gather to share the presence, the promise and the love of God together.  The article mentions that it’s not any flashy program that attracts them – no rock music, praise bands, high-tech shows, glitter and glitz, or ultra-smooth performance.  Their worship and the liturgy they follow is actually quite traditional – even more traditional than ours in their use of ancient prayers and rites.  What attracts them is quite simple – the experience in that setting and with those rites of being able to be honest and open about who they are, what they think, and what they wonder about, with one another in the presence of God. 

Sabbath is a time to celebrate the presence of God with us – not just the past of God, not just the future of God, but the presence of God – the God who is here with us right now in this place, at this time, to heal and make whole, to forgive and set free, to call and empower us and others for kingdom life in the world. 

Sometimes we fear God is not here, or we act as though God is not.  We talk about God as though he’s not right here listening to us. 

So within our own liturgy, what is it that helps you know God is here?  Let it do its work. 

Within this sanctuary and our style of worship, what is that helps open you to the Spirit that is given?  Let it do its work. 

Within our liturgy and pattern of worship, what is it that helps you hear the Word that God is speaking to us for our life and our living right now?  Let it do its work. 

Pharisees are never quite ready to be in the presence of God.  But God is here.  And sabbath is a time for celebrating together the presence of God.