Pentecost

Can These Bones Live?

Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 104:25-35; Romans 8:22-27; Acts 2:1-121; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15

The prophet Ezekiel was in the midst of a nightmare. In the Spirit, God lead him to a valley, a valley filled with the bones of dead soldiers slain in battle against the Chaldeans. It was a horrifying scene of destruction.

“Can these bones live?” God asked him. On that battlefield lay all the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. How could Ezekiel see anything there but disaster and defeat? The situation was hopeless. “Prophesy to them!” God continues.

“What sense is there in that?” Ezekiel may well have thought. Yet even though it doesn’t make sense, God is calling him to take a risk.

“Trust me! I will breathe life into them,” God tells him. And Ezekiel trusts God. He prophesies to the bones. Those dry lifeless bones take on sinew, and flesh. Those dry, lifeless bones are animated. They come to life.

What a vision of hope! And the miraculous thing about it is that the nation of Israel did indeed rise up from that terrible defeat. Life was breathed back into that community. It lived and prospered. It was a nightmare, but through that dream the prophet lived a real experience. It gave him a sense of God’s presence and the awareness that something significant was being communicated to him.

That vision of life being breathed back into dry bones is again fulfilled with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. For with that outpouring came, not only the hope of a nation, but also the hope of salvation for all nations, the Christian hope that exceeds all we can ask or imagine. That breath of life poured out at Pentecost is the source of hope in human experience. It renews us. It assures us of God’s presence with us.

Pentecost started as a nightmare as well. The disciples were all gathered together in the upper room. They gathered out of their need to be together. They gathered more in mourning than in celebration. They were still suffering from the loss of their beloved leader. And then Pentecost happened! They had an amazing spiritual awakening. First there was a movement, then a sound, then a visible sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit amongst them. The experience so filled them with the presence of God that they began to speak in other languages. They did not have to grope for words to express themselves. The words simply flowed out of them. It was not babble; it was clear and effective communication. The Spirit proclaimed a marvellous, inclusive vision without barriers of language, race, nationality, sex, age or class. People not only heard, but they understood what God was speaking to the Church. What’s more they acted on it.

We so easily dismiss the significance of Pentecost. It is the birthday of the Church. It celebrates, not the coming of the Holy Spirit. That has always been God’s gift to the church. Rather it celebrates a fresh outpouring of the Spirit set loose in the world. For the early Christians it became a time of festivity and joy, reminding them that the promise of the Resurrected Christ had been fulfilled in them.

It would truly be a mistake to assume that Ezekiel’s dream was a one-time event. People still have such experiences in their day to day lives. The problem is that we tend to dismiss such dreams as being of little importance. Even if we awaken in terror, we can easily put it down to a case of indigestion or something that we saw on television. We need to pay attention to such experiences in our lives, those ‘aha’ moments in which we know God to be real and present to us, in which we sense God communicating to us on a deep level.

Pentecost was not a one-time event either. The Holy Spirit is poured out on the Church every day. That is the source of our Christian energy and purpose. Whatever speaks to us of the genuine things of Jesus Christ is the Holy Spirit at work in us. How does it come to you? Perhaps it comes as a realization that God is speaking to you through another person. Perhaps it is as you witness to the power of the Holy Spirit at work in your life. It may be a moment of realization at the power of God working a miracle of healing in your life as you let go of the hurts of the past and offer forgiveness to someone. Maybe it happens for you when you accept God’s power to forgive and let it work in your life. It may be in the sharing of the peace, or a time when you were able to go beyond your limitations in speaking to others about your faith. Perhaps it is a time when you felt overwhelmed by life, and then found the power to do something that you thought was totally beyond your capabilities. It may be finding that life takes you in new directions when you thought all the doors had been slammed in your face. Can we look back on those moments of grace scattered throughout our lives and see the Spirit of God working in and through us?

The Church needs that kind of renewable energy. Church institutions can be brought back to life again as their members who once confessed only with their mouths begin confessing with their hearts. It can change as we return to the covenant made between us and God at our baptism. God breathes on us restoring us to life and truth, to joy and purposefulness, as the Spirit takes control of our very being. It is about reconciliation, assurance, peace, joy, purpose. It is a resurrection experience that brings with it a sense of new birth.

Churches need that rekindling, that renewing of life, that rebooting of energy. What would it mean for this parish as you move forward? We need to pray for the Spirit of God to be upon the Church and its people so that we can stand on our feet and take responsibility as we must. This is a parish that needs to do that. You need to be aware of the community around you, of its needs, of its longing for God, of the spiritual resources you have to offer. This is a congregation that needs to open its doors and welcome the community into its midst, not just for social events, but because you love God and you want to share your experience of the resurrection at work in your lives.

Pentecost is about life coming together for the common good. Pentecost happens when people of faith share their faith with one another. It happens when we find ourselves moved to say to one another, “I believe”. It happens when we grow up and begin to say “yes” to God instead of saying “no”. Then love blossoms. We become on fire. May God continue to breathe the fire of the Holy Spirit on us, and may we continue to embrace the Spirit within us. Amen.

Easter, Year A

Love and Death

Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-18

I have heard it said that there are two essentials to human life; love and death. The fear behind Easter is surely that death has the power to overcome love. Death can happen so suddenly. It can tear those we love away from us. It can change our lives forever. An earthquake swallows up everything and everyone in its path. The tsunami that follows completes the devastation. A tornado strikes leaving nothing but destruction. An accident wrenches a child from its mother’s arms. Even the gentlest of deaths, the ones we expect as the normal outcome of life, separate us from those we love and depend upon. At such times we see only darkness.

It is in our human nature to fear death. We make it bearable by coining phrases, euphemisms that save us from using the word. We find ways of softening the blow. Pushing up the daisies; joined the choir invisible; kicked the bucket; danced the last dance; and my personal favourite, shuffled off this mortal coil.

Why am I talking about death on this Easter Sunday? Should we not be shouting joyful alleluias and putting all thoughts of death aside? It is because in our anxiety and cynicism we humans see nothing but death. To put our faith in the love of God, to understand that God’s love has overcome death and the grave, to have faith in something as intangible and unbelievable as the resurrection is not a possibility.

It was still dark the following morning when Mary Magdalene made her way to the garden, her heart heavy with the events of the previous days. Not only had she lost her best friend and companion. All the hopes that had built up in the community over the last few years were suddenly shattered. They had been hoping against hope that Jesus was indeed the Messiah, the Christ. But now he was dead, and with him all illusions.

She saw only death as she made her way to Jesus’ burial place. Not the beautiful garden, not the lovely flowers, not the singing birds, nothing could make her see anything but death. She had watched as Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had laid Jesus' body in the tomb in Joseph's garden in a vault cut out of the rock. She had helped to prepare his body for burial, wrapping it with spices in linen cloths according to Jewish custom. She had seen them roll a heavy rounded stone down the short slope into place. The authorities wanted to ensure that there would be no false claims about Jesus.


Mary was deep in thought as she approached the tomb. "Just a few quiet moments alone," she thought. But that too was quickly shattered when she realized with a jolt that the stone had been removed from the tomb. Who would have done such a thing? What further indignity were the authorities heaping on Jesus? Could he not even rest in peace?

In her grief and sorrow Mary could not see anything but death. And so she ran back as fast as she could to warn the others. She found Peter and John. "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him," she told them breathlessly. Without a moment's delay they set out for the tomb. They ran as fast as they could, but John, being younger, got there first.

Something – indecision, fear – held him back from entering the tomb. So it was Peter who actually went in first. Not that its impact on him was immediate. He observed the cloths lying there – no body, just the cloths, looking as if the body had simply lifted out of them. Strange!

But when John went in, it was as if a thunderbolt had struck him. He would never forget what he saw – the sheer emptiness of the tomb. Jesus wasn't there. John saw and believed. But, not knowing what to do, the two of them simply left. They left Mary in tears, filled with questions and doubts, still seeing only death.

And there in the garden in the midst of her doubting, she too encountered the risen Lord. Not that she recognized him right away either. At first she thought he must be the gardener. You know what it's like to see something you hope for but don't expect. We do not always see what is real. Have you not experienced seeing someone in the distance, being absolutely certain that it is your friend, only to find when you get closer that it does not even look remotely like the person? Then Jesus spoke to her, just one word, but a word so familiar that she knew every inflection, every nuance. "Mary!" He said. And hearing her name, she recognized the risen Saviour.

"Do not hold on to me," he said to her. "But tell the others. Tell them I have risen and that I will ascend to my Father in Heaven."

So convinced was she that she couldn't wait to tell them, "I have seen the Lord!"

We frequently find ourselves going into places in our lives where we expect to find only death. We need to check out each situation to find the reality in it all. In each dying in our lives, what is the resurrection? In the dying of our planet threatened with extinction, where is the resurrection? In the death of the church as we see fewer and fewer people in our society living the life of faith, where is the resurrection? In the death of a marriage? In the death of a beloved child? In the sickness and suffering of a friend?

It is after all about those two essentials to human life, love and death. In every death there is resurrection. That is the love of God in action in our world. Do I really believe that Christ rose from the dead? What ought to happen in my life if I really believe? How do I demonstrate in my life that Christ is alive and that his saving grace and abundant life are available to every human creature?

Mary was searching for what is real. Everyone in this church this morning is searching for what is real. The gospel presents life in reverse. Yet contradictions bear fruit. Life does not end in death; death ends in life. We make our way from life to death to real life. That is resurrection hope.

Paul says that we must “set our minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” That is not so that we become no earthly use, but so that we live with a vision of what can be. It is so that we can discover what is real, so that we will experience the risen Christ in our lives. When God’s Spirit moves us to faith in the resurrection of Christ, giving us God’s power to live and act on the basis that it is so, that it really happened, then we will discover, as millions have before us, that Christ is alive in us.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

24th Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, Proper 32

Remembering

Readings: Haggai 1:15b-2:9; Psalm 98; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17; Luke 20:27-38
 
An Indian Chief named Crowfoot once proclaimed most eloquently, "A little while and I will be gone from among you, whither I cannot tell.  From nowhere we come, into nowhere we go.  What is life?  It is a flash of a firefly in the night.  It is a breath of buffalo in the wintertime.  It is a little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." 
 
Those are the words of one who has pondered the meaning of life, one who has reflected on his sense of mortality and faced it with wonder and hope.  He sees death as an extension of life.  Is he not reflecting on a question that we all think about? "What happens after death?"  We all think about it, but most of us don’t talk about it.  In fact, we avoid talking about it.  We don’t even use the word.  We say that someone has passed over, or passed away, or my personal favourite, ‘shuffled off this mortal coil’. 
 
One thing is certain, as we travel through life, we are all confronted with the inevitability of death.  We must all face it, difficult as it may be to look at.  We fear what is beyond our experience.  A friend of mine once described it to me this way.  "It is like looking at the sun.  You look and then you look away."  It causes us to question.  It makes us uneasy and fearful.  We don't like to talk about it, even, or especially when we know someone is dying.  And yet I think perhaps the most tragically lonely way to die must be when one is unable to talk about the experience because there is no one ready to listen.  
 
I experienced that with my father when he was dying.  He shared with me that no one would talk about what he was experiencing.  I said that I would.  We began to talk about the whole process of dying.  Just then my sister, a nurse by profession, entered the room.  She immediately changed the subject.  He said to me, “See! I told you.”  I let him know that our conversation wasn’t over.  It was some of the best sharing I ever had with him. 
 
As we celebrate the Feast of All Soul's and Remembrance Sunday, that question about what happens after death comes to the forefront.  What we really want to know is what is life all about?  What has happened to those I love who have gone before?  How can I walk in paths that lead to life, now and eternally?  What is my place in the whole scheme of things?  Such questions are important, in fact, basic to our existence.  It is probably the most universal question known to humanity.  People of all ages and in every culture ask it.  If you question whether or not it is relevant to the average person, you need only consider the number of books that have been written about near death experience and about the afterlife. 
 
It is a universal question because death touches each one of us.  How is it possible to wipe away our first childhood experience of death?  How can we forget when it invades our family circle taking away one we love?  As we approach Remembrance Day, how can we forget the obscenity of war with the death and destruction it causes? I find it especially poignant as we hear of more and more casualities of the war in Afghanistan. We have a whole new generation of Veterans to remind us of those who have died serving their country.  
 
The questions arise from the uncertainty of the world in which we live, a world where war and violence still exist, where people die unnecessarily.  But I wonder if the real questions are the deeper existential issues, the issues with which philosophers have grappled throughout the ages.  "Why are we here?"  "What is life all about?"  "Is there purpose to our existence?"  Hopefully an underlying concern is "How should I live my life?"  Many want to have reassurance.  "I'm not certain I can buy into this religious stuff,” they seem to be saying, “but ... just the same, I want to cover all the bases.  How can I make sure about what is to come?  That I'm in on it?"  This is all part of what we are doing today as we remember those dear to us who have died and as we remember those who have died in war.  I see it reflected in the readings for today. 
 
The exiles returning from Babylon certainly questioned their existence.  They come back to find total destruction; Jerusalem has been turned to rubble.  They begin the task of rebuilding the city.  Yet it is a city that most of them have never seen before.  They have lived their whole lives in exile, dreaming for the day they would be ‘home’ yet knowing nothing of that place.  They have no memory of its former glory.   Not only that, it is a period of terrible drought.  Money and resources are in short supply.  The constant barrage from enemies hampers progress.  They question their very existence.  The job grinds to a halt.  Through it all, the prophet Haggai maintains his sense of vision of what is possible if they trust God.  He assures them that they are not alone, that God is with them as they persevere.  Of course, his prophecy did come true.  The temple in Jerusalem was restored even beyond its former glory.  It became a true memorial to those who were not able to return. 
 
Paul has a similar situation with the people of Thessalonica.  Life has been difficult for them.  It is not a temple that they need to build, but a community of faith.  Rumours about the end times abound. Such rumours are always frightening.  They cause us to examine the fragility of our lives.  They remind us that death comes to all of us.  For these early Christians there is always a sense of hope, for they have been taught that before the end times come, Jesus will return. The hope keeps coming to them that they will be spared death through some special intervention; Christ will return during their lifetime.  They look for miracles.  They look for an end to the misery and hardship around them.  Yet time passes.  Hope begins to dwindle; the rumours become more prevalent.  Paul reminds them that God has chosen them, that they are part of God's purpose.  It is a reassurance and also a challenge as they come to terms with their part in God's plan of salvation.   
 
The Gospel begins with an argument about the resurrection.  Although the intention of the Sadducees is to entrap Jesus, concern with the afterlife is certainly behind their question.  They did not believe in the resurrection.  If you don't believe that there is anything to look forward to after this life, then those deep concerns about what does happen become even greater.  And so they ask that convoluted question about whose wife the woman will be in the afterlife.  Despite its underlying agenda, Jesus answers it in a very pastoral way.  What he says in effect is that all life consists in friendship with God.  Nothing less is worthy of the name of life.  Death in no way severs that relationship.  It merely puts an end to physical existence.  Relationship is eternal.  People may lose their friend by death, but not God.  It ends with a wonderful affirmation. 
 
“He is God, not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.” What reassuring words those are! Christ involves himself in human life.  He offers an eternal quality of life, not a quality that begins after death, but one that carries us through all of life.  It begins when we look at life through our Lord’s eyes, when we try to reflect in our lives what we see in his, when we see how his birth, life, death and resurrection offer us a lens through which we come to see meaning in our human experience. 
 
Today we remember those who have died, but are alive in Christ.  We celebrate their lives of faith.  We remember everything in which they were great.  I invite you if you have not already done so to prayerfully light a candle as a memorial for those who have died having touched your life.  On this Remembrance Sunday let us lift up also those who died in the great wars and those who continue to die in service to their country.  Let it be more than just words.  Let us be mindful of our need to be advocates for peace and justice everywhere and for all people.