Towards Sunday, July 10, 2016

Summer!!  

Lean back.  Relax.  Open a good book.  Have fun with stories we don't normally make time for, that might be that little summer fling that changes your life.

This summer we leave the heroes behind -- the Moses's, Davids, Isaiahs, Daniels, Peters and Pauls who both inspire us and make us feel small, who seem to live their faith so boldly that they become larger than life-as-we-know-it.

Time to look at the little people in the stories -- some of the background supporting cast, the extras, the sometimes-nameless people with only one line to say (or no lines at all!) but without whom the story just would not be able to turn out as it does.

People like us?  

Maybe as we take the time to look at their stories with a little imagination (!?!?), these "little people" of the biblical stories can show us something of the working of God over and through all.

We start with Noah's wife.  Yup, Mrs. Noah!

Read Genesis 6, 7, 8 and 9  Read it again.  If you want just a selection of verses, read
6:9-19a; 7:6-7, 11-14; 8:13-19; and 9:1, 8-11.

From the story:

What is Noah's wife's name? 

And where does Noah's wife -- the woman who was told she had to leave her home, her garden, her pantry and her friends behind ... the woman who became den mother to a messy menagerie ... the woman who became mother to all post-Flood humanity -- where does she seem to rank in the family hierarchy, according to the teller of the story?

Sometimes the more interesting stories of the Flood are those told by other voices.  Like Timothy Findley's imaginative tale, Not Wanted On the Voyage, told through the thoughts of Mottyl, an old cat loved by Noah's wife, but disliked by Noah who a number of times tried secretly to do away with it.

I wonder how Noah's wife would tell the story of the Great Flood.  

How it might be different from the "authorized" version.   

And what we do when different voices -- once nameless and silent, start being heard, giving their version of the story we once thought we all knew and agreed on?

 

Sermon from Sunday, July 3, 2016

Reading:  2 Kings 5:1-14

It shouldn’t surprise us that what comes in the story of Israel after the departure of the great prophet Elijah to heaven and the death of the terrible King Ahab on the battlefield, is a story of healing.  Healing is what God does.  Is there any time, when healing is not what God is doing?   The only question, really, is who and what is being healed, how and by whom, and to what end.

In our pew Bibles this story is titled “The Healing of Namaan” and that’s part of this story’s surprise because Namaan is a foreigner – an outsider to the covenant community – part of another tribe.  And not only a foreigner, but an enemy and a live threat to the kingdom of Israel, because commands the army of the neighbouring kingdom of Aram that by God’s good will, the story says, has just recently defeated and killed King Ahab of Israel on the battlefield. 

Is it surprising that God might will the defeat of God’s own people and even the death of their king at the hand of their enemies, for the sake of healing the world?  Being God’s elect, I read this week, does not mean being given a special place of control or dominance in the world, but rather that your purpose in the world is to show God’s power to heal – even when it means your destruction or humiliation.  Something that followers of Jesus, of all people, at some point have to face and learn to embrace.

So Namaan, the alien enemy to God’s people, is God’s hero in this story, and it’s Namaan’s healing that the story is about.

But his healing is not just a matter of Namaan and God working things out between them.  Others are involved – other heroes in their own way.  And I wonder if we identify with any of them.

There’s Elisha, the new prophet in the kingdom who has inherited the mantle of Elijah, who like Elijah lives at some distance from the new king, and like Elijah listens to follow the way of God, not just the will of the king he lives under or the whims of the kingdom he lives in.  Which is why when he hears that dreaded Namaan, who any good citizen of Israel would love to see dead, has come looking for healing from his disease, Elisha says, “Tell him to come see me; I will do for him what I can, and what God commands.”

Sounds like a Doctor Without Borders, going wherever allowed, to help heal anyone in need, regardless of their side, their politics, or their uniform.  Sounds like Dr. Betty Bridgman and the medical missionaries with her in Angola, during a time of civil war opening their clinic and their hearts to government and rebel forces alike.  On a less political, more personal level, does it sound at all like you or like anyone you know who has helped an antagonist, given comfort to a foe, taken time to care about, try to understand and heal a relationship with someone you or they have been at odds with, or been hurt by?

Or even before Elisha, earlier in the story, there’s the slave girl who during the fighting between Aram and Israel has been taken from her home in Israel and sold to be a servant to Namaan’s wife.  She has no reason to feel kindly towards either her or him.  But she too is a holy hero of sorts, taking her mistress’s distress at her husband’s disease into her own heart, making their sorrow her concern, and offering what she can to be of help to them.  She too is willing to love and show care outside the lines, to go above and beyond the call of duty, to care about people whose suffering she might just as easily have ignored, or even taken delight in.

At the other end of the political spectrum, there is Namaan’s boss – the king of Aram.  He knows of Namaan’s leprosy, and probably has put Namaan in touch with all the physicians, magicians, healers and workers of wonder he can find in his kingdom.  But when he hears of the healing power of Elisha, the new prophet living somewhere in the land of Israel, it’s not a slam-dunk he will send him or even allow him to go there.  Would it be consorting with the enemy?  How much risk will his best commander be in, with people in Israel still more than happy to put an arrow through Namaan’s heart?  But Namaan wants to go, so his boss arranges for it to happen.  The promise of healing what’s wrong in the world seems to require putting your own security and well-being on the line, and the king joins Namaan in accepting the risk.

And then there are Namaan’s servants.  When Namaan is too proud to accept the way of healing Elisha commands, the servants have a choice.  Do they let it go and not stick their necks out?  Just let things stay as they are?  Or do they call their master out on his pride, tell him where they think he is wrong, and challenge him to do the right thing?  Have you ever been in that spot?  Of having to confront someone about where you think they are wrong?  Of risking their anger by challenging them to act in a different, more healing way?

A lot of people – both big and little, have to act in heroic ways, outside the lines, beyond the borders, above and beyond the call of duty, for this story of healing to happen.  Which makes me thinks that ultimately it’s not so much a story just about them, or even about us, but a story about God – about God as the real and ultimate hero, the real mover and maker of the tale of healing on Earth, and them as heroes of a sort to the degree they co-operate with the story of the healing God is willing to do in their time.

Each one overcomes something to be part of the story -- obstacles and hurdles in the world outside them, prejudices and preconceptions in their own character and history.  They all have good reasons not to be involved – to hold back and limit what they will do.  But they don’t do that, and that surely says something to us about being part of the healing God is willing to do in our time.

The only one in the story who doesn’t get involved in the healing, ironically, is the king of Israel, God’s chosen one and one of Ahab’s sons now on the throne and in charge of God’s kingdom.  When Namaan shows up in his court with a need he knows he can’t meet, he fears the worst.  He thinks it’s a trick to give cause for another attack on his kingdom.  He questions the motives of the person in front of him asking for help.  He projects onto the other his own insecurities and his own need for control and power. 

And I wonder if ultimately that’s the one thing always that keeps us from being part of God’s story -- if it’s fear, insecurity and projected suspicion of the other, that keep us from being part of whatever healing God is willing to do in our time, from being able to help heal what God wants to heal in the world today.

Are we ruled sometimes by fear?

Do our insecurities get the better of us?  Or keep the better part of us from being expressed?

Are we sometimes suspicious of others, projecting onto them our own need for control and power?

What is it we learn from Namaan, Elisha, the slave girl, the king of Aram, Namaan’s servants, and all others who choose to be part of whatever healing God is willing to make happen in the world today?

Towards Sunday, July 3, 2016

Reading: 2 Kings 5:1-14 (The army of Aram, a neighbouring kingdom to Israel, has defeated Israel in battle and killed King Ahab -- seen in the story as God's will, because of Ahab's wickedness.  The commander of the army of Aram is Namaan, who is a great warrior but also suffers leprosy.  Namaan's wife has an Israelite slave girl who tells Namaan of Elisha, a prophet of God in Israel who is able to heal, so with the permission of his king, Namaan goes to the new king of Israel to ask for healing.  The new king knows nothing about healing, so he is afraid this is a trick to start even more battles against Israel, but when Elisha hears about Namaan he sends a message for Namaan to come and see him.  Namaan does, but when Elisha does not treat him with the respect Namaan feels he deserves as a great commander of a victorious army, he refuses to do what the prophet tells him to do, to be healed -- until his own servants talk him into a little more humility, he finally does what Elisha told him to do, and he is healed.)

Great story!  And so true to life as we still know it:  kings and generals skilled at controlling armies and the world, prone to miscommunication, misunderstanding and misguided action ... non-governmental forces and personalities doing the real work of healing in the world ... little people of the world as the ones who really make it all happen.

Who is the hero of the story?

• Namaan, the commander of the foreign army who is used by God to help kill King Ahab and set things right in Israel?
• Elisha, the prophet who treats fellow-citizen and foreigner alike, who is willing to help heal even the man who killed his country's king?
• the slave-girl who cares deeply enough for her owner-mistress and master that she lets them know where he can go for healing?
• the king of Aram, who cares for his top commander enough that he risks losing him by sending him to an enemy's court on the off-chance he can be healed there?
• Namaan's servants who take the risk of calling him out on his pride, to try to talk him into doing what he thinks is beneath him? 

Lots of heroic behaviour all round ... a wide variety of characters who all do something to make the story turn out right.  Everyone, that is, except the king of Israel, who does little but quiver in fear and suspicion of others' motives.  Everyone else is either unexpectedly used by God to some good end, or acts in some way above and beyond the call of duty, and because of it the story turns out as it does.

So ... if you were casting this story as a movie, what role would you want your lead actor or actress for?  What character would you want to draw most attention to, and most sympathy for?

If you could be a character in the story, whose role would you most easily or naturally play?

Sermon / Story from Sunday, June 26, 2016

Reading:  2 Kings 2:1-14

This is a story of Elijah.  But it's not really a story of Elijah.  It's a story of what Elijah was able to do, say and be in spite of being Elijah.  Because of a mantle he wore.

It really is about the mantle, because Elijah as Elijah was just Elijah.

There was some good about him, like in all of us.  Like the way he loved God and the stories of God and what he could learn of the ways of God in the world.  Like the way he kept in touch with the news of the day, and of how things were going in the kingdom.  Like how he really wanted to do right and for things to be right.  Like how he was not afraid to say and do what he thought was right and needed.

But there was also some bad about him, like in all of us.  Like his temper, and how violent he could be.  Like his ego, and how sometimes he was really full of himself.  Like his tendency towards manic-depressive disorder.  Like his pride, and self-importance, and how sometimes it seemed to him that it was "all up to him" -- maybe he was obsessive-compulsive as well as manic-depressive.  Like all of us, he had his issues.

And if the story were just about him, we probably wouldn't remember it and still be telling it today.  Like us, he would have come, made his little ripple, and then been gone.

But there was that mantle -- the mantle that Elijah wore.

It was an animal skin.  Not anything human-made.  It was from the wilderness.  Not anything tame.  It was big -- big enough to cover him, bigger than you might imagine, big enough to protect him when need be.  Big enough to cover his faults and foibles.  And it was something he was given.  Not something he made.  Or made up.  Or chose.  Or even earned or deserved.  It was something he was given.

And that he was willing to receive, and to wear.

And when Elijah wore it -- when he put it on, he really was protected.  And covered.  And he was empowered, somehow made bigger and other than just himself.  

When he put on the mantle, he was drawn into something bigger than himself.  Something other than himself.  Which was also, at the same time, somehow really the better part of himself.

Wearing the mantle was like wearing a uniform.  It connected Elijah with a story and a meaning and a history bigger than just his little life, and made his life part of that story all rolled up into his one life.  And the story he was made to be part of, and that became him when he wore the mantle, was a story for the good of the world.

With the mantle on him, and as he made it his own and began to live into it, Elijah was able to do great things.  He was able to say important, truthful things.  He was able to be someone who made a difference.  Who made the world a better place for his being there.  Who brought some light into the darkness of his time.  Who helped the story the mantle made him part of, not to be forgotten, but to be remembered and told over again.

I wonder if the mantle is still around today?

I wonder who might be wearing it today?

I wonder how we might receive it, and wear it ourselves?
 

Towards Sunday, June 26, 2016

Reading:  2 Kings 2:1-14 (The prophet Elijah, the stories of his courageous, sometimes violent prophetic actions, and the swings of his slightly manic-depressive personality, are coming to an end.  The prophet knows his time is coming, and in the wings is Elisha, a disciple-prophet who is very close to Elijah and soon to be his successor.  Elijah makes a final circuit of the land of Israel and Elisha follows closely, knowing that as long as stays close and sees all that God does through and for Elijah, he will be in place to receive the same spirit and calling that empowered his master.  

And when finally on the far side of the Jordan, God's chariot swings low and takes Elijah home, that's exactly what happens.  Elijah's holy mantle -- sign of God's calling and authority. is left lying on the ground.  Elisha picks it up.  And thus begins the story and stories of Elisha, new prophet of God.)

The last of the Elijah stories, and I know some in the congregation may say, "At last!"  Elijah's manic-depressive rhythms, his ego, and the extreme violence of some of his actions can be hard to take.

Nonetheless, he is also a forthright and courageous prophet for God and God's way of being a kingdom in a time when it is politically dangerous to be one, and because of him a number of others are encouraged to maintain their commitment to God and God's way as well.  But "all good things must come to an end" and this story is about the passing of the mantle (literally) from Elijah to Elisha.

The story -- like most biblical stories, is absolutely dripping with symbolism and inner meaning.
 

Elijah is on a farewell tour of sites where he has acted out his prophetic message.  It's a kind of this-is-your-life and let's-recap-the-message kind of tour, and Elisha, following his master closely, is soaking it all in.

And where does the journey end?  At the exact spot at the Jordan River where the people of Israel centuries earlier first entered the Promised Land after their journey from Egypt through the wilderness.  In other words, Elijah has been the prophet to bring the people back to their first beginnings, back to Moses, and back to the God they knew and loved at the start.

Which means, of course, when Elijah crosses over the Jordan (on dry ground? between parted waters?  where have we seen that before?) and is taken to heaven by God, it happens at the exact spot where Moses also died and was buried by God.  (Wow!  What an end!)

Which means when Elisha, spellbound at all he has just seen, picks up Elijah's fallen mantle and re-enters the promised land on dry ground through the parted waters of the Jordan (again?), he is now the new Joshua.  Like Moses, Elijah has brought the people back into relationship with God; like Joshua, Elisha will now lead the people in renewing and building their life as a people and kingdom of God in the world.  (Wow! What a job description!)

A few questions: 

• How can someone as imperfect and with as many faults as Elijah be a strong, effective prophet for God?  How do we understand or reconcile the paradox of his imperfection and his ministry?  How do I -- how do we, understand and live out that paradox in our life?  What's the role of the mantle in all this -- for Elijah, for Elisha, for us? 
• Elisha gets to inherit the mantle of God's calling and power by staying very close to Elijah, and witnessing God's affirmation and blessing of Elijah at the end.  Who have you followed and felt close to in your life, who has helped shape your faith and sense of calling?
• When Elijah is taken by God's chariot to heaven, his ministry on Earth is over and the mantle is left behind for Elisha to pick and carry on in his way.  In spite of your own faults and imperfections, is there anyone who has inherited or is inheriting a mantle of faith and holy calling from you?  How do you go about sharing your mantle with them?

Sermon from Sunday, June 19, 2016

Reading:  I Kings 19:1-16

Sermon:  Leaving the comfort of our home cave 

Of all the Elijah stories, this one is a favourite.  It’s that “still, small voice” – or “the sound of sheer silence.”  It seems personal, close and safe.  It’s encouraging and affirming to know God can be so intimate and interior that any of us can hear God’s voice if only we’re quiet and still enough.

I worry, though, about people who hear voices.  John Hinkley heard voices telling him to kill John Lennon.  Or was it the man who shot President Reagan?  I wonder too if Omar Mateen heard voices eight days ago telling him to open fire with an automatic weapon on patrons of a gay night club -- leaving fifty dead and that many again severely injured.

And only two weeks ago in worship we read about Elijah slaughtering 450 prophets of Ba-al after disgracing them in a game of Whose-Sacrifice-Will-Be-Accepted.  Was it God who quietly told him to do that?  Or was it his own prophetic ego-mania – the religious projection of his own very human solution to the problem in front of him?

Even believers like us – willing to question what we think, and open to what others believe – when we make decisions, take action, and pray that it be God’s will, is it really?  Or is it just what people in our position do, without it being really of God at all?

With Facebook and other social media that can open us up to the world but all too easily just entrench us in habitual ways of thinking and in self-enclosed niches and virtual neighbourhoods, how do we know if what we are hearing is the voice of whole truth, or just the repeated echo of our own little cave?

I wonder sometimes about discernment of spirits – and what it is discern the full mystery of God's voice from other and lesser voices in our life.

In today’s story Elijah makes 2 journeys that open him up to the voice of God.  Twice he leaves behind a particular kind of prison to be opened to a voice and a vision beyond.  I’d like to think about these journeys for a bit this morning.

The first is what may be called the journey out of the world – the journey away from, and beyond what’s wrong about our time and our culture.  It’s the journey of 40 days and 40 nights through the wilderness beyond Beer-sheba to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God. 

It’s a journey of escape from Queen Jezebel.  It’s also a journey of liberation from the idolatries and evil of the kingdom.  It’s a re-enactment really of the first exodus of the first people of Israel under Moses from the empire of Egypt – except this time it’s not a foreign power, but the evils of his own kingdom and his own people that Elijah has to be free of.

It’s a journey God’s people make and remake, undergo and re-undergo all the time and we all have made at some point in our lives.  We walk away from what’s wrong in our time and our culture, to be available and able to live in a way more in keeping with what we know of God’s way. 

We wouldn’t be here in worship otherwise.  In fact, just coming to worship is part of it – part of the life-long journey of leaving behind the way of the world week after week, to let the Word and Spirit of God guide us week after week in a different way of being.  The first journey to be able to hear the voice of God is the journey away from the world.

And then there’s the second journey – a journey I didn’t even notice in the story for the longest time.  It’s that subtle, but it’s also so critical that without it the first journey maybe never really succeeds.  It’s the journey away from, or beyond the self – beyond the self we are used to, and used to being.

Remember Elijah.  He’s escaped and left behind what’s wrong in his time and culture and he’s on the mountain of God.  He finds a little cave there, and when night comes – when the night-time of his own aloneness and despair surround him, he crawls into the little cave and once inside there just surrenders to what he’s feeling – to what he is, in and by himself.  It’s something he’s done before in almost every story we have about him.  It’s just who he is.  It’s his accustomed and familiar way of being and doing in the world. 

Then the Word of the Lord comes to him:  “Go out.  In other words, come out of your cave and stand on the mountain, Elijah, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

And then that part of the story we love so much:

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.  Then there came a voice to him  …

Do you notice the order in which things happen?  And the second journey Elijah has to make really to be in the presence and really to hear the voice of God?

The wind comes, and the Lord is not in it.  The earthquake comes, and the Lord is not in it.  The fire comes, and the Lord is not in it.  Then, there is nothing left but the still, small voice – the sound of sheer silence, that is God.  At which point finally Elijah comes out – makes the journey out of his cave – out of himself, to be in the presence of God.

All the big, noisy, fearsome things Elijah encounters while he’s in the cave are not of God, but are of his own making.  They are the products of his own fears and anxieties.  They are the projection upon the world of his own demons and ego.  They are the echo of his own personality and of his own imperfect and broken humanity, repeated over and over and magnified in the cave he inhabits.  They are signs of what he would do if he were God.

And is only when all this is done – only after the sound of his own little cave and the fury of his imperfect self are spent,

• that the sound of sheer silence can be heard 
• that the stillness of God is able to draw Elijah out from himself 
• that Elijah is able to be truly in the presence of the holy One 
•  and that God, who holds all things together for good, is then able to send Elijah back into the world to do one last good thing, more good and more lasting than he’s yet been able to do.

We know the first journey – I know we do, the journey away from the ways of the world, to gather at the mountain of God. 

I wonder, though, sometimes – how we undergo the second journey out of the caves and little niches we all inhabit. 

How do we come out from the cave of our selves?