Toward Sunday, June 1, 2014 (Ascension Sunday)

Scripture:  Acts 1:6-14 and John 17:1-11
Sermon:  We are the answer to what Jesus prays for

The inner meaning of the story of the ascension of the risen Jesus to the right hand of God in the heavens is a challenge to understand. 

Perhaps the Orthodox tradition of the divinization of humanity is helpful.  Jesus' ascension is not just a reversal of the incarnation, by which he returns to the place whence he came (like the classic Western hero, whether it be Shane or the Pale Rider who at the end of the story rides off into the sun whence he came).  Rather, it is a further stage in God's plan to redeem all creation, in which what is human is now itself elevated by Jesus to another level, and made to participate in God's plan and power in new and fuller ways.

Question:  (How) do we feel ourselves part of the divine?

Also, Jesus is not experienced as "absent" from the disciples, even after his ascension to heaven.  His name appears no less than 69 times as being present with them through the rest of the Book of Acts -- helping them to settle contentious questions that arise, guiding them in knowing their purpose and living out their mission, empowering them for work they do and miracles they perform. 

Question:  (How often) does the name of Jesus appear in our decisions, directions and actions as a church?

God's plan is not just for the restoration of Israel, but for the restoration of all creation to God's good purpose.  According to the Gospel of John and the combined book of Luke-Acts, a) everything that has happened since the ascension of Jesus has been part of the unfolding of this purpose, and b) the church of Christ especially is called and empowered to bear witness to this unfolding in our time.

Question:  (How) do we see and tell others around us about the unfolding of God's good purpose and the restoration of all creation in our time to God's good will?

From Sunday, May 18, 2014

Scripture:  John 14:1-9, 12-14
Sermon:  No End of Dwelling Places

“In my Father’s house are many dwelling places … I go to prepare a place for you … and I will come and take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”

 

This Scripture was read at my dad’s funeral eighteen years ago.  In the eulogy I offered on my sisters’ and my behalf, I referred to it and said we could even see my dad already putting extra shelves and cupboard space in his and his neighbours’ places.  It comforted us to imagine him carrying on in heaven as he had loved to on Earth, with the same desire to maximize usefulness and the same generosity of heart and time.

 

We read this passage a lot at funerals, and it’s a testament to our faith and our need that we see such promise in it – that our loved one is not alone, is not without a home, is not apart from God – but is even nearer than before.

 

The image of the heavenly home also brings to mind jokes we know – about different denominations or religious traditions having their own rooms upstairs.  We imagine walls and closed doors for those who need to feel specially saved … and people being told at the pearly gates to “tiptoe quietly past the third room on the right … because that’s where the Baptists are (I used to be a Baptist) and they think they’re the only ones here.”

 

The jokes are a way of nudging ourselves beyond the parochialism and the prejudices that we sometimes feel and fall prey to here on Earth.

 

But what about Earth?  What about life and the household of God and the fear and frustration with God and with life we so often feel right here? 

 

In the passage we have read there are two particular words I want to focus on for a few minutes.  They’re in the one line, “In my Father’s house are many dwelling places…” and the first is the word translated as “house.”

 

The Greek word in the Gospel is oikia and its meaning is not “house” as in “building” or “structure” or “the house” that we come in and out of.  Rather, it’s “house” as “household” or “family” – as the people and resources of the household and how they are arranged and managed.  

 

Jesus in John 14 is not painting a picture of a palace or a mansion or any house-building; he is talking about how God arranges and takes care of the people and resources under God’s care.  And it’s not so much heaven he is talking about, as it is Earth and life here and now.

 

“The Father’s house” that Jesus cares about and comes to redeem is the Earth and all living things upon it.  This is God’s domain – the cosmos God called into being as a dwelling place for God’s glory and good will, and Jesus comes to set it right – to bring all creation into proper relationship.

 

Which brings us to the second word in this great affirmation of hope about life in the Father’s house – “dwelling places.”  The Greek word is monai, which comes from the verb meno which means to abide, to dwell, or to dwell together.

 

In the jokes and stories about heaven and in the comfort we find at funerals we interpret these “dwelling places” as rooms or mansions we inhabit after death.  But in the time of the Gospel monai refers to temporary resting places for travelers, particularly in the desert and on long caravan trips.  In every caravan there would be a few people whose job it was to go ahead of the others and “prepare a place” so that when the rest of the caravan arrived there, tents and water and food would be ready and waiting for them.  The travelers in the caravan would have a place of comfort to spend the night, be together, and be refreshed.

 

Jesus is not talking about a nice place to spend eternity – “fancy digs in the hereafter.”  Nor about a place where we’re safe from having to associate with people we don’t feel comfortable with.  Rather, he’s talking about a movable and moving place of welcome, hospitality and community for people of all kinds travelling together on a journey beyond themselves.

 

His language echoes Moses’ speech in Deuteronomy where he says, “the LORD goes before you in the way to choose a place.”  Just as Moses helped the people follow God’s leading towards good dwelling places – places of being cared for and renewed as a community by God along their way, so Jesus leads us to places like that too (and note the plural).

 

Good dwelling places is God’s way of managing the world and making life good for all.  And there are many ways of being together – many ways of dwelling in peace and right relationship.

 

It’s one of the things I first learned when I came to Fifty almost 13 years ago.  Being a minister of the Word and sacrament, in charge of the liturgy and sermons, I knew that this hour every Sunday morning is a holy dwelling place that I and a few others prepare each week for you to come to along your way.  It’s a place to meet and be together – with the tent set up, and inside it, food and water and a place to rest and renew your weary soul.

 

But that’s not the only dwelling place prepared here.  There’s also the hour or so of after-worship gathering down the road at Tim’s, and I was told in all honesty that it’s every bit as important as the hour we spend here.  I believe it.

 

And then, there is also the time some people count on prior to worship.  Maurice Childs was the first to mention it to me – how he would come at least a half-hour and sometimes more before the start of our shared worship – what he called “the minister’s worship service”, to sit in simple silence in the sanctuary for what he called “my worship” or “my time with God” – just as important as the hour that I help prepare.

 

Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places … I prepare a place for you … and I will come and take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”

 

Sometimes we help create dwelling places for others without really knowing or controlling just how it is a dwelling place.  When we created the youth room, for instance, out of one of the old Sunday school spaces at the back of the Upper Room, we had no idea how to design it or exactly what it would be used for.  All we knew was to make the space available, dedicate it to the youth group, and let them use it as they wished and needed.  And they did.  There were some organized events and meetings there.  But from what I saw one of the more holy functions of the room was when some of our teens were able just to hang out there and do what they needed to do together, while their parents were busy with something else in the building.  

 

“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places … and I will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”  Somehow, completely apart from any planning or direction on our part, Jesus was there and they were with him.  And isn’t that how God manages the world and makes life good?

 

And now that it’s no longer a youth room – with those young people off at university and starting to live adult lives of their own, and the next set not quite yet at the youth group stage, what do we – or what do God and Jesus, do with the space?  It’s been used as a Sunday school room – great!  It’s been used for storage – probably not so great.  And now it will be used as a safe, friendly space for teaching music to children in the community – great again!

 

And the potential of another youth group?  Someone mentioned recently that when that time comes around again, the best place to meet might not even be at the church but in someone’s house because we as a church cannot offer the kind of technology and stuff that will likely be a focus of their gathering.  What we can help prepare, though, wherever they meet, is the spiritual food and water and rest that their young journeying souls will still need.  

 

In God’s household – in the way God manages life on Earth and makes it good, there are many dwelling places of rest and refreshment and right relation – and it’s God, not just we, who prepare them.

 

And it’s not just about church, is it?  In the same way as we sometimes restrict Jesus’ promises to heaven and life after death, we also sometimes restrict our notion of holy places and holy times to church.  But it’s in all of life and all the world and among and for all kinds of people – both us and our neighbours, as well as strangers and enemies, in our and their  daily and ordinary life, that we find ourselves in places and ways of being together that are truly prepared and blessed by God for our healing and renewing.

 

It’s in our families and among our friends.  Sometimes it’s at work, sometimes in what we choose for leisure and re-creation.  It’s in special moments of celebration as well as in shared moments and places of sorrow and grief.  It’s in movements of justice and peace, and in moments of healing, forgiveness and reconciliation.

 

And when we live long enough we find that none of the places – none of the ways of being together with God, are ever permanent.  God is not really into fixed dwellings, permanent structures, unchanging expectations and unbreakable patterns.

 

God is too much a journeyer for that.  Jesus is too much a journeyer, too.  Because life itself is a journey, and just when we might start to think of settling down – of thinking that the place that we have, the family as we’ve known it, the marriage as it’s been, the community as we’ve come to feel comfortable with it are good enough for all time just as they are, we wake up from our comfortable sleep one morning and see that God and Jesus have gone on ahead again, they are no longer with us the way they were, they have gone on to prepare a new dwelling place for us in keeping with the progress of the journey … and if we’re going to be with them, if we’re going to be among those who enjoy what they are preparing and enjoy dwelling with them, we’d better get going ourselves again too … say goodbye to where we’ve been, give thanks for it and what it gave us, and move on to where they are leading. 

And we don’t need to worry.  Jesus says he comes back to help us find the way.  We don’t have to find the new good dwelling places all by ourselves.  But we do have to follow in the way he leads.

For Sunday, May 18, 2014

Scripture:            John 14:1-17

Sermon:              No End of Dwelling Places

“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places … And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”

 

We cherish this promise at funerals, for the assurance that our loved one is safely received in a heavenly dwelling prepared just for them.  They are not alone, not apart from God, not lost.

 

The “Father’s house” is not just a heavenly mansion, though.  For Jesus as for the whole of the biblical tradition, it is also (and even more?) Earth as we know it and the kingdom of God “on Earth as in heaven.”  Jesus’ ministry was about revealing the kingdom of God on Earth, fulfilling the promise of the glory and goodness of God in creation, and inviting people into the household (the economy, the oikonomia) of God right now and where they are (although it often means moving to a new way of being or seeing where you are).

 

In the reading, Jesus is preparing his disciples for his arrest and death.  The way they have known him, been with him, and known the kingdom of God through him are coming to an end.  They will have to say goodbye and grieve the passing of what has been good.

 

 

 

“But,” he says, “there are many dwelling places in God’s household – many ways of being with God on Earth and in human experience – many different ways God cares for Earth and cares for us in it.  So do not be afraid.  A new way of being together – a new way of living with me and with God is already being prepared for you.  I have shown you the way.  I will lead you to it.  Be ready to move into it.”

 

 

Have we ever had to grieve the passing of a good “dwelling place” – the loss of a good way of being that seemed to satisfy all our needs and make our life good?  Can we believe that even when a good place (a way of being … a relationship … a way of being church … even just a wonderful retreat or spiritual gathering) comes to an end, God is already preparing something new, and just as good, and maybe even better-suited for us to move into?  Crucially, are we willing to move into it?

 

 

From Sunday, May 11, 2014

Scripture:  John 10:1-5
Sermon:     Listening for Life

I’ve noticed a few stories about moms and mothering this week in The Spectator.  

 

Tuesday there was a story about a new book by actress Alicia Silverstone, titled The Kind Mama: A Simple Guide to Supercharged Fertility, a Radiant Pregnancy, a Sweeter Birth, and a Healthier, More Beautiful Beginning.  The story was headlined “Celebrity moms with ‘quack’ views a terrible influence on everyday parents” because in her book Alicia Silverstone offers truckloads of super-attachment parenting advice, including the notions that postpartum depression is caused by eating processed sugars, allowing your baby to sleep in its own crib is neglectful, the diaper industry is "fuelled by corporate-backed pseudo-science, " and some children are "never the same" after they get vaccines. 

 

The author of the article says “Silverstone's book is just the latest in a plague of risible, crunchy parenting books written by celebrities without medical degrees” … like Jenny McCarthy, who continues to argue that vaccines cause autism and has written several books on pregnancy and baby-rearing; and other celebrities whose advice about parenting seems to assume you have the means to hire nannies 24/7 to provide the kind of care they suggest.  

 

They’re celebrities, though, so they must know.  Right?  

 

On Thursday there was a little story on page 3 of The Spec’s GO Section: “Kim Kardashian: Power Mom.”  Apparently Kim Kardashian, Beyonce, Victoria Beckham, Christina Aguelara, Tina Fey, Amy Poller and Sandra Bullock are named among the 50 Most Powerful Moms of 2014 by Working Mother magazine.  It’s an annual list of parents who “inspire us to keep striving for bigger and better” and in coming up with the list the magazine selects mothers across eight categories – entertainment/literature, fashion/tastemakers, finance/business, news/advertising, politics, retail/manufacturing, philanthropy, and tech/science.

 

I wonder.  Does all this attention to celebrity moms inspire?  Or does it confuse, maybe even infuriate, at the very least make ordinary mothering even more challenging?

 

Years ago a Christian band called “Casting Crowns” released a song titled “What If His People Prayed,” in which one of the verses asks:

                What if the life that we pursue

                Came from a hunger for the truth

                What if the family turned to Jesus

                Stopped asking Oprah what to do

What do you think?  Who do we listen to in an age like ours of information overload and of misinformation diarrhea?

The question of who to listen to, and who to follow is at the heart of our reading this morning from John 10:1-5.  In the chapter before – chapter 9, the Pharisees and the followers of Jesus are engaged in a long, public dispute about that very thing.  Jesus has healed a man born blind – has helped him to see for the first time in his life, and the Pharisees are angry because people are leaving them and the traditional synagogue, to be with Jesus instead.  

The Pharisees and the local rabbi used to be the authority.  When people wanted to know the God’s Word or get holy advice for some problem in their life, they would go to the synagogue or the rabbi’s house.  But now people are leaving them to listen to, and follow Jesus instead.  They gather around Jesus in the village square; meet with him in private houses (even the houses of sinners!) to eat and talk about the events of the day; they meet him at the seaside for instruction; they go on mission trips with him throughout the country.  

The Pharisees are upset because it’s all outside the bounds of God’s house and faithful practice as they know it.  They have the weight of tradition on their side; they are in charge of the religious properties; they have the training and tools and credentials; they are the religious authorities.  

To which Jesus says – in the passage we read today, people will go where their hearts and minds recognize a real word of the loving God, even if that means leaving the safety of the traditional sheepfold.   

²The ³gatekeeper opens the gate for the shepherd of the sheep,

and the sheep hear his voice.

He calls his own sheep by name …

He leads them out …

He goes ahead of them,

and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 

There was nothing else Jesus could point to.  He had no special dress to mark him as a holy man, and no credentials; no special education or training in any of the accredited schools; no public relations manager or agent; no way of coercing or manipulating support.  The only thing he can point to as to why people listen to, and follow his that the sheep – the people of God know the truth of God when they hear it.  In their hearts, they know the voice of the true shepherd.

 

And how do we know?  How do they – how do you and I, come to know the voice of the shepherd so well, that we are encouraged to come out from the sheepfold of our culture to follow him?

In my case, it was my mom who was maybe the one – at least the first one, who helped teach me to listen for the voice of God, for the shepherd of true life.  It was my mom who most often was the one who sat with us as little kids as we said our bedtime prayers; she taught me and my sisters to talk with God.  It was my mom who went with us to church and Sunday school, and then as we got older encouraged us to go to the youth group.  She made me read the Bible through once from cover to cover.  She listened to us practice our Scripture memory verses on Saturday nights for the recitation the next morning at Sunday school. 

And it was also her own example.  She went to church and Sunday school herself.  She got involved with the women’s group, and helped make and send boxes and boxes of bandages to mission hospitals in Cameroon.  She tried to live a Christian life as best she could, and we knew she expected us to.

Not that she always did it perfectly, or was always right.  No one ever is – whether mothers or fathers, ministers or churches or even theological traditions.  In what she taught and lived, there was a lot of her own needs and fears mixed in with the word and spirit of God, and as we all must do, I’ve had to sort that out for myself – still need to, all these years later.

But at the heart of it all she taught me the practice at least of listening for a Voice (capital V) beyond my own; ironically, beyond hers as well; and often beyond that of our day.  She taught me to know and to care that there is a living Word of God that can be listened for and followed, and that when I hear it, my heart will know it.  

I don’t think there’s been a time in my life when I’ve doubted that – no matter how well or poorly I live it out.  And for that, I am indebted to her.

I wonder …

Who helped you to learn this practice of listening for God, and of being able to know and try to follow the voice of the true shepherd when you hear it?

And who might be looking to you – or needing you, to help open them to this practice and this same kind of openness in their life?

Until further notice

Until further notice ...

I am currently on leave, and expect to return in a few months -- some time after Easter.  

I know it's not convenient and not good marketing, but I can only suggest you arrange to receive notice of new posts as they appear here (is there a way for you to do that?  I am still somewhat e-technology-challenged) so you will know when I resume, or you will just have to check back now and then.

I wish you a good Lenten season and  every nuance of blessing in Holy Week, towards a day of new life for us all.

Towards Sunday, December 8, 2013

Scripture:  Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12
Sermon:     How big a tree is God growing out of that stump?

(with thanks to Rev's David and John Shearman for their background analysis of the texts)



In ancient Israel, the king was anointed as Yahweh's representative, responsible in his time for upholding the social order and serving the well-being of God's creation.  Two particular ways in which any king proved his divine appointment was by taking care of the poor and weak (always a priority at the heart of God's will for the world) and by building temples (where all people can be reconciled with God and learn God's way).

Q: What might change today if we tested the rightness of our leaders by examining how, in and through all their work and decisions, they do three main things:

a) serve the well-being of God's creation,

b) take care of the poor and weak, and

c) provide ways and places for all people to be reconciled with God and learn God's ways?




In ancient Israel, even when the last king of the royal line is led off to captivity and the kingdom comes to an and, there remains the hope that from the "burned-out stump" of the royal house (not only cut off, but burned out of the ground!!) God will yet raise up an ideal king to recreate the kingdom and the world as God desires it to be.



Centuries later, when Jesus is raised from the dead, the early church attaches this hope to him.  There is some debate, though, about whether Jesus ever claimed this vision for himself, or whether it is something the early church pinned to him.

 

Did Jesus have a different view of the ancient hope?

The preaching of Jesus's cousin, John the Baptist is interesting in this regard.  On one hand, he clearly sees Jesus as messiah.  But on the other hand, when he talks about trees being cut down to the root so they can grow up again anew, he refers not just to the royal line and household, but to all the people of the kingdom.  Is it more than just a new king being raised?  Is it a new kind of people?  New kind of community?  Is Jesus a different kind of messiah -- not a king, but a community-builder?

It's tempting to think this might mean the Christian church is now the divinely appointed community ... that we as followers of Jesus are now raised up by God to be God's representative for the well-being of Earth.  But can we be that self-centred and self-important any longer, in this age of inter-faith dialogue, respect and co-operation?

Q: Can it be that God's desire for the well-being of Earth, the care of the poor and the weak, and the building of temples is not just the work of anointed or elected leaders, nor just the work of the Church, but the work of all humanity -- or at least the work of a universal community of spirit?  If so, what is our role and calling as a church?

 

By the way, this last image is also, like the two before, a depiction of the Sermon on the Mount.

 

And...one last thing that may in fact turn out to be the focus of our worship this Sunday  ... when John the Baptist says the axe is already laid to the root of all trees not in keeping with God's will, there is an immediate shiver of judgement that we are tempted to feel.  But remember this is spoken in the context of a tradition that believes in God's power to bring new life out of cut off stumps, and in a God who prunes back that new, more abundant life may come.

 

 

Q's:  If we believe any of the above, what signs of "trimming back" and "getting back to the roots" do we see in the world, that we can celebrate and encourage?  What kinds of overgrowth and false growth are being disposed of?  Is there a return to the root purpose of life in our time?  And how do we as a church share in this time of pruning our overgrowth, and encouraging new life from the real roots of our life as a community of faith?

From Sunday, December 1, 2013

Scripture:  Isaiah 2:1-5;  Romans 13:11-14;  Matthew 24:36-44
Sermon:     We interrupt our regular programming ...

This past week Japhia’s mom, Pearl, was in the hospital for 4 days with pneumonia.  She was very weak by the time she got there Monday, and Tuesday evening I went with Tiffany – Japhia’s daughter, to visit her.  

 

The day had been confusing to Pearl, and we found her quite agitated.  That afternoon she had been moved from Emergency through a maze of hallways to the Express Unit where she was to stay until a bed might open up.  She didn’t like being in the hospital, she was upset she was sick, she couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t take her back to her first room, and the sleeve of her hospital gown was wet with spilled water and she really wanted a new gown.  She was waiting for someone – anyone, to come help her, and nothing was going right.  

 

Tiffany, who works as a PSW, took immediate charge.  With her quiet, calm manner in the midst of this crisis, she calmed Pearl down.  She helped her change into a new gown, got her settled comfortably into bed, expertly arranged her pillow, washed her face, offered to brush her hair, and with a few simple words and touches just made her feel good.  Then as we three visited quietly for a while, at one point Pearl said, “You know all those stories of Jesus, how he went around healing people – in all the villages – that must have been something, eh?  How he just healed them all.”

 

There was a quiet calmness in how she said it.  So I don’t know if it was said with a kind of longing as a prayer maybe for Jesus to heal her.  Or if she felt she was being healed, even as she lay there.  And was it said on purpose for Tiffany’s benefit, as a word of witness to remind Tiffany of the faith that Pearl hopes she will have?  Or did the memory of those stories about Jesus rise up in Pearl’s heart because somehow Tiffany’s response to her – Tiffany’s words and manner and touches and actions, felt just like Jesus’ touch and God’s grace in her life? 

 

And maybe that’s how it happens – how the kingdom of God is revealed in our time, and how a day of frustration, fear and upset becomes a day of the Lord.  In Matthew 24 Jesus says it may come like a flood from out of nowhere, catching up all the world in its gracious flow of cleansing and transformation, taking those who are ready towards a new way of being, with those who are unprepared for a new way, left behind.  But it might also be as quiet, as surprising, and as personal as a thief in the night, breaking open what seemed to be a horribly locked-up, signed-sealed-and-delivered irredeemable situation, to lead those who are ready, out of the dark and into the light. 

 

When we read Matthew 24, often we think all this talk about a flood of new life sweeping over the earth, and locked-up-tight dark houses being broken open so things can come into the light, must be a reference to the end of the world.  And it may prove to be. 

 

But might this also be a way of understanding what happens here and now … time and time again … within the history of the world – all the repeated, unexpected, surprising times when redemption and healing come to this world, to our lives, and to the lives of others we know. 

 

Isaiah believed in it – in the possibility of the worst days we know becoming a day of the Lord … a day of completely unexpected redemption and healing and grace. 

 

On one hand, Isaiah knows what the world is like.  He is a counsellor to the kings of Judah during the final corrupted days of the kingdom.  And in the book that bears his name, he starts right in, in chapter 1 with a long and full recitation of the woes of the day.  The people, he says, have turned their back to God and God’s way for the world.  Their rulers are foolish, and the rules they make up are self-serving and corrupt.  The country is desolate, and even though we appear religious it is not really Yahweh we serve.  The rich protect their own interests; the poor are forgotten and invisible to them.  Judges are bribed and give unjust verdicts against the innocent and powerless.  The government is corrupt, the society is sick, and it can only come very soon to a very bad end.  

 

The tale of woe begins in chapter 1 and continues to the end of chapter 3 – a long lament that is interrupted only for 4 or 5 brief verses – the verses Barb read for us this morning from Isaiah 2:1-5.  These verses really are quite different from all the others around them.  They are an interruption.  It’s as though Isaiah – or maybe a later editor of the book, announces “we now interrupt this newscast and our regular programming with a special bulletin – the days shall come, we are told, when the world will be willing to be taught by God in how we should be; people the world over will learn peace, not war; we will practice justice, not injustice; we will live towards shalom and well-being for all.  And now back to our regular programs.” 

 

Where does that interruption – that vision of life being different than we expect, of our days of lament becoming a day of the Lord, come from?  

 

Isaiah says it’s a word that he saw – a very interesting way of putting it – a word that he saw.  It’s not unique to Isaiah, though.  This same vision, almost completely word for word, is found also in the book of the prophet Micah – 4:1-5. 

 

It makes scholars wonder was this maybe a hymn that the people sang, that Isaiah and Micah have both quoted?  Was it a traditional prayer?  Was it a story told long ago and remembered?  Was it the vision of some unknown prophet that lingered in the people’s memory from generation to generation, and was included by Isaiah and Micah, or by their editors, in their books? 

 

Whatever its source, it doesn’t really seem to belong where it is – smack dab in the middle of a long lament about how irredeemably corrupt the kingdom is.  It really is just stuck there and it sticks out like a sore thumb … or, more to the point, it flickers like a glimmer of hope and real humanity and healing in an otherwise very dark time. 

 

And isn’t that what the day of the Lord is?  Isn’t that how the kingdom of God often appears in our time?  Isn’t that what sustains us, and helps us and others keep going through whatever dark and fearful time may be ours? 

 

This past week in The Spectator, for two straight days the main story on the front page was the outrageous case of Inspector David Doel – a member of the Hamilton police force who has received a half-million dollars in salary while he’s been suspended with pay from the force, pending the investigation of criminal charges against him.  The case has been dragged out for four years on technicalities and delays, and now that it’s finally coming to court, the accused inspector abruptly resigns from the force and the case cannot be pursued.  And if that isn’t bad enough, to add insult to injury, some years ago he also won $1.7 million in a Super 7 Lottery jackpot.  Some guys have all the luck, and it doesn’t seem to be the good guys. 

 

This case has tapped into an outrage, frustration and sense of powerlessness that many people feel about many things today.  In so many ways – big and little, the world seems to be both wrong and beyond our control.  We feel it, and our neighbours feel it.  We feel it out there; sometimes we feel it in here as well.  Sometimes it seems every day is just one more step along a very dark path. 

 

But then there are the glimmers – visions, big and little, of things being different, of a different kind of story being told, of the day of the Lord coming near. 

 

In the same two editions of The Spec that featured the David Doel story, there was also a story of the capture of three suspects in the 12-year-old case of the firebombing a Hindu temple in Hamilton in the aftermath of 9/11.  One of the two days, the story was front page – right beside David Doel, and even if this not a flood of redress remaking who we are as a people, at least it was a little thief in the night breaking what seemed to be a very dark house – a long-closed cold case, and stealing us away to a place of some light. 

 

On one hand, there was the wonderful juxtaposition of justice in one case delayed and then denied, and of justice in another possibly being done even after 12 years.  But there was even more than that.  The day of the Lord is not just tit-for-tat undoing of every wrong done.  It’s also the creation of something new, some good unimagined before, out of the rubble of what was.  

 

Three things were mentioned in the story.  One is that after the fire there was a groundswell of support for the temple and that it’s been rebuilt even grander than it was before.  A second is that the fire-bombing so shocked the city, that such a hate-crime could occur here, that since the incident there has emerged a very strong and vital inter-faith network committed to peace and co-operation for good.  And a third thing – to me the most amazing of all, is the comment of Narendar Passi, a leader of the Hindu community, when informed of the arrests by the police of the three suspects in the fire-bombing of his temple.  Quoted on the front page of the paper, he says he was shocked by the news.  “We had forgiven the culprits … from our part, (he says) it was done.” 

 

Excuse me?  That isn’t what we expect to hear!  We expect some comment about finally getting closure, feeling relief that justice will be done, of now finally being able to get on with their life, or something like that.

 

But what an amazing and unexpected witness to a different kind of world we can live in – a world of renewal, of reconciliation, of new vision and work for peace, of forgiveness and freedom together from the darkness of the past. 

 

It’s like Isaiah with his remembered vision from somewhere, like Tiffany putting to good use her skills she has learned and the natural goodness of her heart, like Jesus reminding the disciples that the Day of the Lord does come … again and again: 

 

We interrupt our regular programming and the way this day seems to have been, with this special bulletin …

 

Sometimes it’s the start of a flood remaking the world in some good way, that no one really expected would come …

sometimes it’s a little breaking open of some horribly dark  house or heart or situation that we thought would never be broken open …

sometimes it’s just the simplest of gestures and words and actions that can turn someone’s day of anguish and anxiety into a day of hope and healing, of love and joy … into a day of the Lord. 

 

As people of God we live for such moments … to act them out ourselves in what we do and how we do it … and to recognize and give thanks for them in the actions of others …