Towards Sunday, April 21, 2013 (Earth Sunday)

Readings:  Genesis 1:26 - 2:3; Romans 8:12-25

A few notes about the readings

Genesis 1, like creation stories of other ancient peoples (Egyptians, Babylonians, etc) depicts Earth's creation as progressive emergence of order out of primordial chaos.

But there are significant differences in the Hebrew story.  Other people, especially the Babylonians, tell Earth’s creation as a battle story, with Earth and life as we know it coming to be through a series of battles won by a Great Hero, usually a warrior-king.  They see warfare as creative – a good way to bring order out of chaos.  The warrior-king is revered as the agent of the divine will.  And the message is that as long as the king is in power and ruling the world as he sees fit, life will be good.

The Hebrew story is different.  Earth and life as we know it come to be peacefully through obedience to a progressive revealing of God's good will.  Chaos is resolved not through war between competing forces and the defeat of one by the other, but by making places for everything to be.  And in the end the great hero of Earth, if there is a hero at all, is neither a warrior-king nor a warrior-nation, but all humanity -- ordinary men and women of the earth together who listen to God and act as God would for the well-being of earth and life on it.

Paul's Letter to the Romans is written to a community of Christians in the capital city of an empire that sees itself as Earth's lord and saviour.  Rome sees its culture, economy, technology and power as the envy of all people and the solution to the world's problems, and believes that it is for Earth's good that they impose their will and spread their culture over as much of the world as they can. 

But Paul has been converted to a different point of view.  He has come to see Christ (crucified and risen) as the supreme revelation of God’s good will, and to see in the Christian community (open to, and filled with the spirit of Christ) the beginning of the kind of humanity that Earth is in need of.

 

First thoughts towards Sunday's worship -- Earth Sunday

 

“…The creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God…” 

Two generations ago it was suggested that Earth’s ecological crisis is due in part to Western Christianity, in how we have interpreted “dominion” as “domination” and have justified the West’s conquest of other people, other creatures and Earth itself.  Some have also suggested that humanity as a species is the problem, and that even though Earth’s evolution led to humanity’s emergence, Earth now needs to expel us from its bio-system (or at least limit our existence) for its own good.

Science and Genesis 1 both see that humanity is a relative latecomer in the evolution of Earth, with a huge impact because we imagine, control and shape the world in ways that other creatures do not.  Need this be a problem, though?  Are we necessarily destructive just because we are powerful?  If so, (to use scientific language) is the evolutionary direction of life on Earth ultimately wrong and self-defeating?  Or, (to use biblical language) was God wrong to put Earth into our hands?

Perhaps the problem is that (to use scientific words) we haven’t evolved enough, or (to use biblical words) we haven’t yet grown into the fullness of God’s wisdom?  Maybe we are still too much like a rebellious adolescent in household Earth, newly aware of our personal power, thinking it’s all about us and what we want, imagining that what we want is what all the world needs, making everyone else in the household accommodate us and our desires, and not yet willing to live within appropriate limits and boundaries for the good of the whole.

Are there signs of hope (always hope?), though …

• using biblical language, that God's gamble in putting Earth into our hands might yet work out well?
• using scientific language, that we can evolve into life-serving rather than life-jeopardizing creatures within Earth's biosphere?
• that Paul is right, that through Christ and openness to his spirit a new humanity can be seen (either within or without the church) -- the community of mature, divine Wisdom that Earth is in need of?

Towards Sunday, April 14, 2013

Reading:  John 21:1-19

I used to have a book from the Sixties titled What To Do Till The Messiah Comes -- a wonderful compendium of photos and thoughts about inner happiness, community, and living in touch with creation and creativity.

Whether religious or secular, fifty years later many people still live with the same focus -- what to do till Jesus returns (and the kingdom comes), what to do till we elect the right leader (and our country's decline is reversed), what to do till I win the lottery (and my life becomes a personal paradise on earth).  What do we do until...?

I think the Gospel of John suggests a different question: what to do now that...especially, now that the messiah has come?

This is especially clear in John 21, which tells the story of a strangely subdued, even awkward meeting of some of the disciples and the risen Jesus.

The awkwardness of the story and the way in which John 20 (vv. 30-31 especially) really seems to offer a natural end to the Gospel, leads some commentators to suggest that John 21 was added later by another hand, as a kind of epilogue or post-script -- an answer to the question: so what do we now that the messiah has come?

The story in John 21 incorporates a number of themes and images from the Gospel:

• the meal of fish recalls John 6:1-14 (feeding of 5,000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish), suggesting that Christ's generosity in feeding his followers is not limited to the past, but continues in the present
• the catch of fish recalls other gospel stories current in the early church (e.g. Luke 5:6-7) and the fact that Jesus' disciples never catch or accomplish anything except at his direction
• the slow recognition of the messiah recalls Mary's slow recognition in John 20, and the disciples' slowness in coming to understand and accept the risen Lord, suggesting that the church never finds it easy to recognize the risen Lord
• the invitation to come and eat recalls Jesus' washing of his disciples' feet and acting as their table servant in John 13:3-17, suggesting that the risen Jesus comes in the same humility as did Jesus in the flesh
• the 3-fold question of Peter's love for Jesus recalls and redeems his 3-fold denial, foretold by Jesus in John 13:38 and acted out in John 18:15-17, 25-27
• the 3-fold command to care for his sheep recalls Jesus' description of himself as shepherd and sheepfold in John 10, suggesting that the way God's kingdom love was known then, continues still

Overall, the message seems to be that what was true of and with Jesus when he walked this earth in the flesh, continues still.  The Gospel is not locked in the past, but continues in the present.  The kingdom of the messiah is not future, it is here now.  The story of Jesus of Nazareth has come to a conclusion, but the living drama of Christ continues.

Did you notice, for instance, the unusually indeterminate dating of this story -- "after these things" -- which could mean any (and every?) time after the first appearances of the risen Jesus?

And the setting of the story (at the end of a long night of fruitless fishing, with dawn just breaking) recalls the very opening of the Gospel, and its affirmation of the light coming into the darkness, that the darkness cannot overcome (John 1:5).  Even though there is still darkness and frustration in our lives and that of that of the world, the light shines and God's kingdom dawns today, again and again, as it did then in him.

So maybe one question to bring this to a focus, and lead us into the dawning of the light where we are:  the story in John 21 seems to come to a point in the 3-fold command to carry on the ministry of Jesus -- to care for, feed and pasture Christ's sheep, and to be willing to give our lives in this as he did.  Who and where are Christ's sheep today in Winona, Hamilton and Niagara that we are to care for, feed and pasture?

For Sunday, April 7, 2013

Reading:  John 20:19-31

 

The story of Doubting Thomas – what a wonderfully human and universal disciple.  

 

This story is written about Jesus and his disciples in the days immediately following his crucifixion and resurrection, as they slowly come to understand what the resurrection of Jesus means for them, and where it leads them.  The story is written by and for the church a generation or more later, by and for people who never knew Jesus or the first disciples, as they try to come to terms with what the resurrection of Jesus means for them, and where it leads them in their time.  

 

The first disciples are trying to come to terms with a messiah whose way seems so right, but who allowed himself to be killed; they are wondering if his way of self-sacrificial love is still worth following or not.  The later church is struggling with their expulsion from the Jewish community (which is the context within which we should probably understand the statement that the disciples were hiding “for fear of the Jews”) and continued marginalization within the Empire; they are wondering if the way of Jesus will ever triumph in the world.

 

Do we ever doubt or have questions about the way of Jesus?  Do we sometimes wonder if it’s realistic to live as he tells us?  Are there situations where we doubt that it makes sense to make his ethic our way of life?

 

And – in light of what the risen Jesus gives his disciples (peace and the power to forgive people, and free the world from its sins) do our doubts and questions make us less at peace than we need to be?  When we doubt and question the way of Jesus as the way to live, do we limit the good effect – the liberating effect, we are meant to have on the world?

 

We come to worship this Sunday with these and other questions in our hearts.

For Palm/Passion Sunday, March 24

Readings:  Luke 19:28-40 (triumphal entry) and Luke 22:14-27 (Last Supper)

It's tempting to try most of all to re-create these scenes in our worship -- like a Lent/Holy Week version of a Christmas nativity pageant. 

In a nativity pageant, for the time of the pageant we suspend our connection with the present moment as we dress up and act like the shepherds, angels and magi, and like Mary and Joseph long ago.  We re-create and dramatize a past event, and it's effective for teaching children the story.  It can be a good way to engage their imaginations in telling and interpreting the story in new ways.  But pageants also run the the risk of creating the impression that it's just an exotic, long-ago story that we dust off like a ritual.

Same goes for Palm Sunday.  It's fun to have palm leaves waving, sing joyous songs of the kingdom's coming, and to remember the messiah's entry to the city 2000 years ago.  It's a good way to remember and pass on the story, and we enjoy it.

But beyond this we also need to wonder what it means for today -- how this part of God's story is lived out not just in the sanctuary, but in the world today.

Does Jesus still today, as he did then, enter our city?  Is there still, as there was then, variety of understanding and diversity of agendas among those who welcome him?  Does he still, as he did then, need to spend time correcting our theologies and orienting us to the true way of God?  Does the journey still, as it did then, lead to death and resurrection as the way the kingdom comes?

This Sunday in our worship we will remember the first Palm Sunday, and we will seek to grow in our openness to the coming of God's salvation today.

For Sunday, March 17, 2013 (Lent 5)

Readings:  Philippians 3:4b-12 and John 12:1-8

In the reading from Philippians, Paul is writing about more than just a change in his theology (from his law-keeping version of Judaism, to the divine grace he comes to know in Christ); he is writing about a change in his whole life (from achieving and enjoying success and respect in society, to letting it all go for the sake of following and serving an alternative vision of what will make the world good). 

Some around him no doubt are saying the change is for the worse -- that it has ruined his life because it has cost him his old friends and has landed him in jail (this letter is written from a Roman jail).  But Paul says, "It's the best thing that happened to me, and I'm glad for the turn my life has taken. In fact, I hope I can continue this path; it will only get better."

Think of it this way.  If Paul were here today it would be like he gave up a tenured teaching post and position as head of the Department of Religious Observance at Hebrew U to become an unpaid missionary to migrant workers, because that's where he felt God calling him ... or like he gave up a seat on the executive of the Jerusalem International Religious Council for Preservation of the Faith where he could shape public policy for all the kingdom, in order to apply (and not even always successfully) to be one of a number of temporary teachers to a few Christian congregations because that’s where he thought God was working … or like he resigned a high-salaried, high-powered position as pastor of a mega-church, not to become a $1000/hour religious consultant or a best-selling author on the latest spiritual trends, but to become an unpaid itinerant street corner evangelist to the poor and the outcast, because that is the way of Christ. 

Like Mary in the Gospel story (pouring out her precious ointment that she had been saving for who knows how long), Paul doesn't hold back when he feels touched and moved by God in Christ.  He happily sacrifices what is necessary to follow where his heart and soul tell him God is leading, and he rejoices in the new life he finds because of it.

In worship on Sunday we'll see if this says anything to us.

For Sunday, March 10, 2013

Reading:  Luke 15:1-32 (Jesus' parables of a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost family member)

These parables are not, in the first instance, about forgiveness -- at least, no more particularly than anything (and everything?) about God's realm is about forgiveness.

It's tempting to think they are, especially with the third parable's perfect symmetry of a wasteful but penitent younger son, a loving and unconditionally generous father, and a moral but bitter elder son.  But unlike other instances in the Gospels where Jesus responds to challenges to his practice and understanding of forgiveness (e.g. Mark 2:1-12; Matthew 18:21-22), in this case he is addressing a challenge to where and with whom he shares meals and makes community -- that is, who he includes in his list of "the righteous" and who he sees and treats as the heart and soul of God's vital people in his day.

The Pharisees and scribes are used to counting noses and checking attendance at the synagogue and in the temple to identify the righteous.  They count these good folks as the moral majority of their time, and as the demographic whose needs and well-being they happily serve.

Jesus, however, grows into the habit of counting other kids of folks as friends and followers of God.  His list includes "the sinners" who don't fit in to the synagogue-and-temple crowd.  He sees them somehow as the heart and soul of God's new movement in his day.  And he is content at times to by-pass synagogue and temple himself in order to spend time, share meals, and make community (common-cause) with them.

I wonder if at least some of them (who he likens to a lost sheep, a lost coin, or a lost family member, and who he celebrates finding and being restored to),were the "spiritual but not religious" people of their day?

If so, I wonder what Jesus, his choices of company, and his parables say to us who are spiritual and religious ... both in the church, and wanting to be where Jesus is?

For Sunday, March 3, 2013

Reading:  Luke 13:1-9

People are talking about tragedies.  A number of Jewish Galileans were murdered by the Roman army while they were worshipping.  Eighteen peope were killed in the collapse of a tower in the town of Siloam.

Popular say those who suffered and died must have deserved it.  It must have been God's judgement on their sin.  They want to know what Jesus thinks.

Jesus doesn't buy their view of God or of their fellow man (and woman).  "Were they really any worse than anyone else?" he asks.  "Any worse than you or me?"

Then he tells a story about a fig tree that stops bearing fruit.  Before cutting it down, a wise orchard-manager gives it another year and some TLC -- a little loosening of the hard-packed earth that's solidified around it, and a little manure spread around to give it something new to work with.

How easy it is to let the ground around us solidify, and to think we've taken in all the manure we need to!

Jesus encourages the people around him to take a lesson from the fig tree, because the line to be drawn ithrough the world is not between bad people who deserve to be punished and good people who are okay as they are -- but between people who think they're as good as they ever need to be, and those who keep growing by letting themselves be challenged and fed.  

It reminds me of something I've heard Muriel Coker say a few times -- that there's no person so bad there isn't some good in them, and no person so good there isn't something bad in them.  No person so good they don't need to keep changing and growing, and no person so bad that they're beyond changing and growing.

How do we do that, though??

On Sunday, a few people from the congregation are going to talk about what has made, and still makes a difference for them -- what has helped, and still helps them growing and fruitful. 

Come and hear what they have to say from their heart to yours.