Acceptable Worship
Readings: Song of Solomon 2:8-13; Psalm 45:1-2, 7-10; James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
Adapting to change is a constant theme in life. It is human nature not to appreciate change. Consider the number of jokes about changing. We have all heard many versions of the ‘light bulb’ joke. How many Anglicans does it take to change a light bulb? Anglicans don’t change. It is true that as Anglicans in a liturgical setting we can get upset when something changes in the rituals. The ritual may not even make sense, but we want it to continue. Heaven help the person who tries to make a change!
I know this from personal experience. I am sure if I tried I could find a few examples from this congregation, but it is much safer to look back one of my previous congregations which shall remain nameless. When I first arrived in the parish they enlightened me about some of their “rules”. The best one was that the flowers on the altar were not to exceed the height of the arms of the cross. Since the cross and the flowers were all on the altar, it was no mean feat to arrange the flowers. They had a ruler back in the sacristy and if the flowers were too high, they simply lopped them off and stuck them back in the vases. The day I realized we had to find a way around the rule was the day we had four- inch gladiolas sticking up out of the arrangement. There was no way to change their mind about the ‘rule’, but they adapted wonderfully to putting up sconces for the flowers and putting the cross on a ledge far above the altar. It also gave me much needed space on the tiny altar.
Rules can be a good thing. We need to follow the rules of the road if we do not want to end up in an accident. A classroom would be chaos if there were not rules of conduct. We live in community. If there were no rules on how to conduct ourselves, we would not exist as a society.
But there is another kind of rule. We also choose our own rules of conduct depending on the company that we keep. There are rules about how to dress. When I went on my first job interview as a teacher I wore a hat and gloves or I would not have been hired. In the 60’s if you saw a VW van with “Make love, not war” bumper stickers and a long haired driver wearing granny glasses you knew that they were hippies. In the 80’s, if you saw a BMW driver wearing Gucci shoes and a Rolex watch you knew that you were observing a yuppie. Think of some of the markers that people have today – nose rings, low slung pants, multiple earrings, tattoos.
Change is not a problem relegated to the 21st Century. In Jesus’ time it was a problem. Talking with women in the street was against traditional rules. Talking with foreign women was completely out of the question. Approaching lepers was not done. Healing on the Sabbath was a ‘no no’. Eating without washing your hands was unconscionable. There were many rules to follow. Some of them made sense. They brought order into the people’s lives. Some of them simply marked them, set them apart for who they were. Their observance of the Sabbath, food taboos and circumcision were the things that set the Jews apart from the Gentile world. Jesus did not regard the laws as bizarre or outlandish. He understood them. But at the same time he knew that it was the shema, loving God with heart and soul and strength that was the essence of Judaism. He knew that following every cleansing ritual prescribed by Jewish law would not make a difference to society. He knew that it was about more than simply following the old traditions. He knew that they needed to put their faith into action if it was going to be effective, if it was going to bring them closer to God, if they were going to live out their faith. He knew that what was needed to identify the people as God’s people was an authentic faith and a sense of justice and love. He knew that it was far more about people choosing to do the right things, not because they were following the rules, but because they wanted to do the right thing. They wanted to do things because they were convinced that it was the right thing to do.
So what is it that marks us, that sets us apart as Christians? The Gospel reading challenges us to do some honest self-evaluation. It is not through ritual that we serve God. Common sense should dictate to us whether or not what we practice as ritual has any merit. What brings us close to God is not how we practice our faith, but how we live it. Jesus pointed out the hypocrisy of their practices to the Pharisees. He let them know that they were more concerned about the enforcement of rules than the human situation. They were dependent on knowledge rather than faith. Their practices were more important than the purpose they served. And that would never make a difference in their lives.
Again and again we hear Jesus take moral issues out of the realm of mere action and into the deeper realm of motivation. How many times must we forgive? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are forgiving people. Do we say grace day after day, praying for the needs of others, but never contribute to help change their plight? Do we bring names of the sick and suffering to the altar Sunday after Sunday but never go out to minister to them? Do we have a rich liturgical life but do none of the real work of the church? Do we think that we serve God by going to church on Sunday, or by spending time in private prayer, or through our financial support of the church? These may indeed be signs of a Christian living a Christian life. But they do not change the fundamental question. “How is my heart towards God?”
“There is nothing,” Jesus says, “that goes into a person from the outside which can make that person unclean. Rather, it is what comes out of a person that makes one unclean.” Jesus is affirming the holiness, the sacred nature of all creation.
A little child has been playing in the garden. He is covered with dirt from head to toe. He runs over to you and plants a big kiss, saying, “I love you.” How like that child we are. God loves us and we approach God with a grimy kiss. God looks through our messiness and our dirt, looks through all of these things that are wrong and sees innocence and a desire to please. God accepts our grimy kiss and is pleased with our coming, no matter what our condition.
So we must constantly ask, “Is our worship acceptable to God?” It is if we come, no matter how grimy, as children of God and go out cleansed, restored, and forgiven as servants into the world.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Proper 21, Year B
This past week I co lead an Immersion group at the Social Justice Camp in Peterborough. Our group considered Urban and Rural Realities of our Aboriginal peoples and included workshops on Treaty and the History of the Residential Schools as well as visits to the reserve at Curve Lake and the Native Council Fires in downtown Toronto. We met amazing people along the way who shared their journey of truth and reconciliation. I will share some of that with the people of St. Mark's tomorrow.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Proper 20, Year B
What Matters?
Readings: 1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14; Psalm 111; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58
You are with someone you dearly love. You would like very much to convince him or her to change their behaviour. Maybe you want them to stop a dangerous habit, avoid a quarrel, forgive some bitterness, forget something from the past, or to make a decision about something that keeps being put off. It could be your son or daughter, your mother or your father, your husband or wife, a friend. She is standing there before you. He is sitting right next to you. You talk, you reason, you argue, you speak. There is no response. You might as well be talking to the wall. He just stands there staring at you. She just sits there not showing any sign of real contact. You plead, “If only you could see things the way I see them. If only you could understand what I understand. I wish I could get inside your head and make you see. I wish I could get into your heart and make you feel what I feel. If only we could both think the same way about this!
That is the way Jesus is speaking in the gospel reading. That is why we have heard the same message over and over again for the past three weeks. “Listen to what I am telling you,” Jesus is saying to the crowd. Week by week the crowd changes and grows. First it is an intimate group of followers. Then it is some friends. Finally it the crowds that gather to witness his miracles. When they find out that there is no more free bread, the crowd grows increasingly hostile. “I know what is at stake,” Jesus says to them. “Listen to me. Try to see what I am telling you. Try to see things as I see them. Try to feel things as I feel them. I come from God. Eat the bread I eat. Drink the wine I drink. Drink my blood and eat my flesh!” “Figure out what matters!” he is saying to them.
Paul has much the same message for the Ephesians. “Be careful then how you live,” he says to them. You need to decide how to live your lives. You need to decide what is worth putting time and energy and talent into. You need to ask yourself, “What really matters? What matters in my life? Is what I am doing worthwhile? Is it something that will sustain me, that will contribute to the world in which I live? Will it give meaning to my life?”
Ephesus was a great city with a fascinating and varied life. Paul knew that living there could become an end in itself. These fledgling Christians could be drawn into its sophistication, its affluence, its sexuality, its commerce, its cosmopolitanism. It had so much to offer. He is not saying that everything is bad. He is just saying that they need to make choices amongst everything that is offered. The choices they make need to be life giving for them.
What about our world today? Does it sound at all like Ephesus? Our culture is a mixed bag. It varies from the sublime to the obscene. All the things that could attract the interest of the Ephesians could attract us. We can waste our time on things that are useless, or we can live creatively and triumphantly. It has always been that way. It is, after all, a matter of choice.
How would Paul address us, living here in Port Hope? How would Jesus speak to us today? We live in a world in which millions are starving while others eat too much. We live in a world where there is crisis after crisis. We live in a world of violence. We live in a world where people die of AIDS while wealthy countries hoard drugs that could be life saving. We live in a beautiful world that is dying inch by inch because of our lack of stewardship. We live in a world which for many is a virtual world of Twitter and Facebook, often devoid of human contact. If Jesus were speaking to us, he would speak words of life. He would speak them over and over again until we learned to listen. He would use every possible way he could to get across to us, to convince us, to help us understand what is best for us. He would say that he himself, his words, his life, his witness, is for us. His words are for us if we will let them speak to us. They are for us if we allow them to be? He would use every word he could think of to let us know how much he loves us and cares for us and wants us to commit ourselves to him. He would speak even when he felt as if he were speaking to the wall.
So what matters? That is what the crowds around Jesus could not understand. They thought that it was about a miracle. They thought it was about getting everything their hearts desired. They thought it was about free food. They thought it was about being in the right place at the right time. They thought it was about being lucky.
That sounds pretty much like the world we live in. Let’s face it! We want miracles. We want everything our hearts desire. And we want it now. This week I got a letter in the mail. It was addressed to me. I suspected that it might be a request for a donation. I usually read such mail and then decide whether or not I wish to respond. So I opened it. It was a sales pitch for a good luck charm. If I were to purchase the ring they offered for only seven dollars they would guarantee that I would be lucky. All of my money and love problems would be solved. I would never have any difficulties in life again. All I need do is wear the ring.
We hear that same message in so many ways. Our materialistic culture hammers it out to us constantly. And we buy into it. If only we could move into a bigger house … If only I could win the lottery… If only …
Instead we need to keep reminding ourselves of what matters. Consider your own memories for a moment. We live in an age of extravagance. There is glitter and glamour. Yet I suspect that our most splendid moments are quite common and simple. A glass of cold water when we are hot and thirsty, a simple meal when we are hungry, a kind word when we are feeling down, a meaningful embrace expressed with sincerity … There is no act of love that is insignificant.
That is what Jesus wanted the crowds to know. He wanted them to know that God loved them. He wanted them to know that God really loved them. He wanted them to know the love of God in such a way that they could pass it on. He knew that if they saw and recognized the love of God standing there in front of them, if they understood that it was not about material things, but about warmth and attention and companionship and love, then that would be passed on from person to person.
We experience the truth of Jesus’ words in our tradition of the Eucharist. The act of celebrating life is a healing thing. It doesn’t just make us feel better. It makes us better. It is good for us. Worship is our way of celebrating life. We come together in a tumultuous and frightening world that makes us wonder sometimes whether there is even a future to celebrate. In community we share a belief that there is meaning and love behind it all. We feel touched by that love and care. It gives meaning to our lives; it gives hope. The sacred meal at the centre of our church’s life is not only nourishing for each of us, but it is nourishing and unifying for the whole body of the church. It convinces us of what really matters. Amen.
Readings: 1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14; Psalm 111; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58
You are with someone you dearly love. You would like very much to convince him or her to change their behaviour. Maybe you want them to stop a dangerous habit, avoid a quarrel, forgive some bitterness, forget something from the past, or to make a decision about something that keeps being put off. It could be your son or daughter, your mother or your father, your husband or wife, a friend. She is standing there before you. He is sitting right next to you. You talk, you reason, you argue, you speak. There is no response. You might as well be talking to the wall. He just stands there staring at you. She just sits there not showing any sign of real contact. You plead, “If only you could see things the way I see them. If only you could understand what I understand. I wish I could get inside your head and make you see. I wish I could get into your heart and make you feel what I feel. If only we could both think the same way about this!
That is the way Jesus is speaking in the gospel reading. That is why we have heard the same message over and over again for the past three weeks. “Listen to what I am telling you,” Jesus is saying to the crowd. Week by week the crowd changes and grows. First it is an intimate group of followers. Then it is some friends. Finally it the crowds that gather to witness his miracles. When they find out that there is no more free bread, the crowd grows increasingly hostile. “I know what is at stake,” Jesus says to them. “Listen to me. Try to see what I am telling you. Try to see things as I see them. Try to feel things as I feel them. I come from God. Eat the bread I eat. Drink the wine I drink. Drink my blood and eat my flesh!” “Figure out what matters!” he is saying to them.
Paul has much the same message for the Ephesians. “Be careful then how you live,” he says to them. You need to decide how to live your lives. You need to decide what is worth putting time and energy and talent into. You need to ask yourself, “What really matters? What matters in my life? Is what I am doing worthwhile? Is it something that will sustain me, that will contribute to the world in which I live? Will it give meaning to my life?”
Ephesus was a great city with a fascinating and varied life. Paul knew that living there could become an end in itself. These fledgling Christians could be drawn into its sophistication, its affluence, its sexuality, its commerce, its cosmopolitanism. It had so much to offer. He is not saying that everything is bad. He is just saying that they need to make choices amongst everything that is offered. The choices they make need to be life giving for them.
What about our world today? Does it sound at all like Ephesus? Our culture is a mixed bag. It varies from the sublime to the obscene. All the things that could attract the interest of the Ephesians could attract us. We can waste our time on things that are useless, or we can live creatively and triumphantly. It has always been that way. It is, after all, a matter of choice.
How would Paul address us, living here in Port Hope? How would Jesus speak to us today? We live in a world in which millions are starving while others eat too much. We live in a world where there is crisis after crisis. We live in a world of violence. We live in a world where people die of AIDS while wealthy countries hoard drugs that could be life saving. We live in a beautiful world that is dying inch by inch because of our lack of stewardship. We live in a world which for many is a virtual world of Twitter and Facebook, often devoid of human contact. If Jesus were speaking to us, he would speak words of life. He would speak them over and over again until we learned to listen. He would use every possible way he could to get across to us, to convince us, to help us understand what is best for us. He would say that he himself, his words, his life, his witness, is for us. His words are for us if we will let them speak to us. They are for us if we allow them to be? He would use every word he could think of to let us know how much he loves us and cares for us and wants us to commit ourselves to him. He would speak even when he felt as if he were speaking to the wall.
So what matters? That is what the crowds around Jesus could not understand. They thought that it was about a miracle. They thought it was about getting everything their hearts desired. They thought it was about free food. They thought it was about being in the right place at the right time. They thought it was about being lucky.
That sounds pretty much like the world we live in. Let’s face it! We want miracles. We want everything our hearts desire. And we want it now. This week I got a letter in the mail. It was addressed to me. I suspected that it might be a request for a donation. I usually read such mail and then decide whether or not I wish to respond. So I opened it. It was a sales pitch for a good luck charm. If I were to purchase the ring they offered for only seven dollars they would guarantee that I would be lucky. All of my money and love problems would be solved. I would never have any difficulties in life again. All I need do is wear the ring.
We hear that same message in so many ways. Our materialistic culture hammers it out to us constantly. And we buy into it. If only we could move into a bigger house … If only I could win the lottery… If only …
Instead we need to keep reminding ourselves of what matters. Consider your own memories for a moment. We live in an age of extravagance. There is glitter and glamour. Yet I suspect that our most splendid moments are quite common and simple. A glass of cold water when we are hot and thirsty, a simple meal when we are hungry, a kind word when we are feeling down, a meaningful embrace expressed with sincerity … There is no act of love that is insignificant.
That is what Jesus wanted the crowds to know. He wanted them to know that God loved them. He wanted them to know that God really loved them. He wanted them to know the love of God in such a way that they could pass it on. He knew that if they saw and recognized the love of God standing there in front of them, if they understood that it was not about material things, but about warmth and attention and companionship and love, then that would be passed on from person to person.
We experience the truth of Jesus’ words in our tradition of the Eucharist. The act of celebrating life is a healing thing. It doesn’t just make us feel better. It makes us better. It is good for us. Worship is our way of celebrating life. We come together in a tumultuous and frightening world that makes us wonder sometimes whether there is even a future to celebrate. In community we share a belief that there is meaning and love behind it all. We feel touched by that love and care. It gives meaning to our lives; it gives hope. The sacred meal at the centre of our church’s life is not only nourishing for each of us, but it is nourishing and unifying for the whole body of the church. It convinces us of what really matters. Amen.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Proper 18, Year B
Transforming our Souls
David’s behaviour is nothing short of scandalous. In our world of twitters and tweets and Facebook it would have been out in a matter of minutes. Even in David’s time such events are not kept secret for long. First of all David is lounging at home while his men are fighting his battles. Then he becomes so enthralled with a woman that he takes her and then has her husband killed to cover up his misdeeds. Don’t you want to ask David why he thought he could do such a terrible thing? What was he thinking? Did he really think that he could get away with it? Did he think that there would be no price to pay? No doubt he considers that sin is personal, that it is simply an offence against God who will forgive and everything will go on as it always has. But no matter how we might wish it, no matter how we might try to convince ourselves, no sin is an offence only against God. It always hurts others. When the powerful sin it has even graver consequences for society.
Along comes Nathan. How does a prophet survive confronting the king? Nathan is brave to even consider it. His approach is clever. He tells David a story about two people, one rich and powerful; the other poor. The rich man has many flocks and herds. The poor man has a little ewe lamb which he treats as a well-loved pet, a member of the family. A traveller drops in on the rich man. He offers hospitality, but rather than preparing one of his own flock for the traveller, he takes the poor man’s only lamb, slaughters it, and feeds the man. Our sense of justice comes to the forefront when we hear the story. As listeners we become outraged at the actions of a wealthy person who would steal a poor man’s lamb.
David too is outraged. “The man deserves to die. He owes the poor man four times what he took because he had no compassion,” David exclaims. Nathan’s words ring true and cut to the core as he confronts David with his sinful behaviour. “You are the man!” What must it have been like for David to hear those words? Caught out like a naughty child! Nathan reminds him of all that God has done for him and what a terrible deed it was for him to have Uriah killed simply to take his wife. David comes, as we all must, to the realization that he has done a grievous wrong. He repents, but the fact is that he did not count the cost of his sinfulness until confronted by Nathan. He failed to consider the responsibility that comes with power.
There are many examples of it in society today. Consider the abuse at Penn State University. Sandusky, of course, has been convicted and is paying the price for the evil he has done. The university also faces sanctions that will be very difficult to pay. Many people think that the university should not be held accountable for a crime committed by one of its employees. But the fact is that they put football before the lives of the victims. As one commentator put it, ‘They didn’t issue the death penalty to the university. They went further than that. They ordered the university and those who run it to transform their soul.’ That, I would say, is what Nathan did for David. David not only repented; it transformed him. That is the role of the prophet. And we have far too few prophets in our world today.
Closer to home, consider Canadian history with respect to our Aboriginal people. We took away their livelihood, their culture, their family life. We gave them diseases which wiped them out. We made treaties with them which we broke. We moved them away from their ancestral lands onto reserves. Then we took away their children, sending them to Residential Schools where many were abused. Yet it is very difficult for people to understand that atonement needs to be made. It was a transformative moment for the Canadian Anglican Church when Michael Peers stood before the National Native Convocation in Minaki in 1993 and apologized on behalf of the church. And I quote what he said: “I have heard the voices that have spoken of pain and hurt experienced in the schools, and of the scars which endure to this day. I have felt shame and humiliation as I have heard of suffering inflicted by my people, and as I think of the part our church played in that suffering. I am deeply conscious of the sacredness of the stories that you have told and I hold in the highest honour those who have told them. I have heard with admiration the stories of people and communities who have worked at healing, and I am aware of how much healing is needed. I also know that I am in need of healing, and my own people are in need of healing, and our church is in need of healing. Without that healing, we will continue the same attitudes that have done such damage in the past.”
His apology was accepted, and then the real work of truth and reconciliation began. It continues as we listen and respond to the stories of abuse and lost lives and heartache. As we listen to the stories, as we accept responsibility for the actions of our church, it transforms our souls. Then we truly understand the message of the Gospel.
Jesus wanted to transform the souls of the crowds who followed him. “You are looking for me because you ate your fill of the loaves,” Jesus tells them. He knows that they have missed the point. They have witnessed the feeding of the five thousand. If it could happen once, why can it not happen all of the time? If Jesus can perform wonders, perhaps they can harness his power in some way. Perhaps he can pass on his powers to them. Then there would be a constant supply of free food. There would be no more worries, no more hardship or struggle. That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? Like winning a lottery! Surely God would want that. By fulfilling their material needs, their suffering would end.
But that is a purely materialistic interpretation of what Jesus is saying. He wants them to understand that feeding five thousand people, no matter how extraordinary it is, is not the most important occurrence. The real miracle is the one they have missed out on. The real miracle is the one that can change their lives, not materially, but spiritually. The real miracle is the one who can give meaning and direction to their lives.
It is easy for us as we read the Gospel, to see that the crowd has missed the point. The writer wanted us to recognize it. However, similar experiences in our own lives are more difficult for us to perceive until we reflect back on the impact in our lives. Things become much clearer in hindsight. Such reflections, once we allow them to surface, may leave us with a far clearer understanding of the power of God working in our lives. They can transform our lives.
What is our relationship with Jesus all about? Is it about what we get out of it? Christ is present to us in the Eucharistic offering of the church. As Jesus becomes the bread of life for us, we are the bread of life to those around us. The reality of Christ giving himself totally in the Eucharist is the model and criterion of Christian behaviour. To be like Christ is to love in a life-giving way. It involves being generous, not just by providing bread but by sharing the deeper gift of ourselves. Such sharing becomes our purpose in life. It gives present and eternal meaning to life. Jesus is bread for our souls, nourishing, wholesome and life-giving. He is the bread of our Eucharist lying in our outstretched hands. “Evermore give us this bread.” Transform our souls! Amen
David’s behaviour is nothing short of scandalous. In our world of twitters and tweets and Facebook it would have been out in a matter of minutes. Even in David’s time such events are not kept secret for long. First of all David is lounging at home while his men are fighting his battles. Then he becomes so enthralled with a woman that he takes her and then has her husband killed to cover up his misdeeds. Don’t you want to ask David why he thought he could do such a terrible thing? What was he thinking? Did he really think that he could get away with it? Did he think that there would be no price to pay? No doubt he considers that sin is personal, that it is simply an offence against God who will forgive and everything will go on as it always has. But no matter how we might wish it, no matter how we might try to convince ourselves, no sin is an offence only against God. It always hurts others. When the powerful sin it has even graver consequences for society.
Along comes Nathan. How does a prophet survive confronting the king? Nathan is brave to even consider it. His approach is clever. He tells David a story about two people, one rich and powerful; the other poor. The rich man has many flocks and herds. The poor man has a little ewe lamb which he treats as a well-loved pet, a member of the family. A traveller drops in on the rich man. He offers hospitality, but rather than preparing one of his own flock for the traveller, he takes the poor man’s only lamb, slaughters it, and feeds the man. Our sense of justice comes to the forefront when we hear the story. As listeners we become outraged at the actions of a wealthy person who would steal a poor man’s lamb.
David too is outraged. “The man deserves to die. He owes the poor man four times what he took because he had no compassion,” David exclaims. Nathan’s words ring true and cut to the core as he confronts David with his sinful behaviour. “You are the man!” What must it have been like for David to hear those words? Caught out like a naughty child! Nathan reminds him of all that God has done for him and what a terrible deed it was for him to have Uriah killed simply to take his wife. David comes, as we all must, to the realization that he has done a grievous wrong. He repents, but the fact is that he did not count the cost of his sinfulness until confronted by Nathan. He failed to consider the responsibility that comes with power.
There are many examples of it in society today. Consider the abuse at Penn State University. Sandusky, of course, has been convicted and is paying the price for the evil he has done. The university also faces sanctions that will be very difficult to pay. Many people think that the university should not be held accountable for a crime committed by one of its employees. But the fact is that they put football before the lives of the victims. As one commentator put it, ‘They didn’t issue the death penalty to the university. They went further than that. They ordered the university and those who run it to transform their soul.’ That, I would say, is what Nathan did for David. David not only repented; it transformed him. That is the role of the prophet. And we have far too few prophets in our world today.
Closer to home, consider Canadian history with respect to our Aboriginal people. We took away their livelihood, their culture, their family life. We gave them diseases which wiped them out. We made treaties with them which we broke. We moved them away from their ancestral lands onto reserves. Then we took away their children, sending them to Residential Schools where many were abused. Yet it is very difficult for people to understand that atonement needs to be made. It was a transformative moment for the Canadian Anglican Church when Michael Peers stood before the National Native Convocation in Minaki in 1993 and apologized on behalf of the church. And I quote what he said: “I have heard the voices that have spoken of pain and hurt experienced in the schools, and of the scars which endure to this day. I have felt shame and humiliation as I have heard of suffering inflicted by my people, and as I think of the part our church played in that suffering. I am deeply conscious of the sacredness of the stories that you have told and I hold in the highest honour those who have told them. I have heard with admiration the stories of people and communities who have worked at healing, and I am aware of how much healing is needed. I also know that I am in need of healing, and my own people are in need of healing, and our church is in need of healing. Without that healing, we will continue the same attitudes that have done such damage in the past.”
His apology was accepted, and then the real work of truth and reconciliation began. It continues as we listen and respond to the stories of abuse and lost lives and heartache. As we listen to the stories, as we accept responsibility for the actions of our church, it transforms our souls. Then we truly understand the message of the Gospel.
Jesus wanted to transform the souls of the crowds who followed him. “You are looking for me because you ate your fill of the loaves,” Jesus tells them. He knows that they have missed the point. They have witnessed the feeding of the five thousand. If it could happen once, why can it not happen all of the time? If Jesus can perform wonders, perhaps they can harness his power in some way. Perhaps he can pass on his powers to them. Then there would be a constant supply of free food. There would be no more worries, no more hardship or struggle. That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? Like winning a lottery! Surely God would want that. By fulfilling their material needs, their suffering would end.
But that is a purely materialistic interpretation of what Jesus is saying. He wants them to understand that feeding five thousand people, no matter how extraordinary it is, is not the most important occurrence. The real miracle is the one they have missed out on. The real miracle is the one that can change their lives, not materially, but spiritually. The real miracle is the one who can give meaning and direction to their lives.
It is easy for us as we read the Gospel, to see that the crowd has missed the point. The writer wanted us to recognize it. However, similar experiences in our own lives are more difficult for us to perceive until we reflect back on the impact in our lives. Things become much clearer in hindsight. Such reflections, once we allow them to surface, may leave us with a far clearer understanding of the power of God working in our lives. They can transform our lives.
What is our relationship with Jesus all about? Is it about what we get out of it? Christ is present to us in the Eucharistic offering of the church. As Jesus becomes the bread of life for us, we are the bread of life to those around us. The reality of Christ giving himself totally in the Eucharist is the model and criterion of Christian behaviour. To be like Christ is to love in a life-giving way. It involves being generous, not just by providing bread but by sharing the deeper gift of ourselves. Such sharing becomes our purpose in life. It gives present and eternal meaning to life. Jesus is bread for our souls, nourishing, wholesome and life-giving. He is the bread of our Eucharist lying in our outstretched hands. “Evermore give us this bread.” Transform our souls! Amen
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Proper 17, Year B
Bridging the Gap
Readings: 2 Samuel 11:1-15; Psalm 14; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-15
In the Old Testament reading we are directed away from the public life of King David into his bedroom, his very private life. It is not a pretty picture. In fact one might wonder if this is the same David at all. This surely cannot be the same David whose story has unfolded over the past few weeks. David, the shepherd boy whom God chose to lead the people of Israel, to be their King, David who danced with joy before God as the Ark of the Covenant was brought into the city, David who renewed his Covenant with a loving God?
For today we hear of David’s torrid affair with Bathsheba. And the story does not end with his adulterous behaviour. The story goes on to tell of David’s conniving to unite husband and wife in an attempt to cover up his own guilt. Having failed in his attempt, he engineers the death of Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, clearing the way for his own marriage to her. His self-serving willfulness is in direct contrast to his previous acceptance of God’s will.
Indeed, what place does such a story have in Scripture? What could it possibly teach us about Christian living? Yet it is not the only example of its kind in Scripture. We read many examples of people wanting to do good, and yet doing wrong. It is reflected in the words of Paul when he admits that the things he wants to do are the very things he doesn’t do, and things he doesn’t want to do are the very things he does. And do we not all resonate with that?
It is the struggle we all face, for it is part and parcel of our human nature. It is not that we condone such behaviour. It is that the struggles of David and of Paul are such human struggles. Hearing such stories may give us heart as we deal with our own struggles. We too want to do good, even to be good. Most of the time we manage to suppress what we recognize as being evil. But far too often we are simply unable or unwilling to distinguish between right and wrong. Even when we know the difference, we can choose to ignore it.
It is a paradox which pervades all of society. It is systemic. We do not have to look very far to know that. A look at any newspaper reminds us of that fact. We see it on every newscast. Wherever there is war or an act of terrorism, it is happening. And always we are faced with the discrepancy between rich and poor. But then that has been with us throughout all the ages, even in Jesus’ time. We certainly see that in the Gospel for today.
Hungry people are coming to Jesus. There are the curiosity seekers who are looking to be witnesses to a miracle. There are those who are sick hoping against hope for a cure. There are the spiritually bereft who need to experience Jesus’ care and compassion. All of them are hungry. They keep following him. The crowd swells until there are at least five thousand people gathered. People need to be looked after. How do you take care of five thousand hungry people out in the Galilean countryside?
Jesus turns to Philip, "Where are we to buy bread for them to eat?" He understands the many kinds of hunger they are experiencing. But he knows that their physical needs must first be met. He asks, not because he does not know what to do. He asks as a challenge to the disciples to respond to those who are in need. It is a test of their faith.
Philip's response is very human, totally realistic. We can all hear ourselves saying the same thing. "Six months' wages will not buy enough bread to feed all these people." Philip is right. There is not enough money in the coffers to take care of the problem of feeding five thousand people. If it depends on wealth, the situation is hopeless.
But it doesn’t. It isn't. For Jesus takes bread, simple bread, the everyday food of the poor, bread made of barley, five little loaves, provided by a little boy. His lunch! Jesus gives thanks. He gives it to the people. They eat and are satisfied. They are no longer hungry. They are full.
God’s action in history is a paradox when it comes to hunger and fulfillment. Jesus feeds five thousand people. They have their hunger sated. With a few fish, a little bread, and a word from Jesus, they eat and are filled. Many people are starving, but because Jesus has compassion on a few of those hungry people, and because a little boy has a lunch, they eat and are filled and go home. In the whole scheme of things, it was not very spectacular. It just happened and Jesus left it at that.
Many people are starving in our world. We need to ask ourselves if we are doing enough. What does the Gospel call us to do? As one of the richest nations in the world, we Canadians can find all sorts of reasons why it is not our responsibility to end world hunger. “After all,” we will say to ourselves, “not even six months wages will buy enough bread to feed all the hungry in the world.” And while I am preaching this sermon, twelve thousand children in the world will die of starvation. No matter how we look at it, it is wrong that one in five people go hungry every day. And you will tell me that they go hungry because of famine, or war, or the many natural calamities that take place on our planet. But they go hungry primarily because those of us who can choose to ignore their plight hold the wealth of the world. The situation is getting worse, not better. The number of hungry people has steadily increased since 1995. In part it is because governments and international agencies neglect agriculture relevant to the very poor in favour of wealthy nations. Consider the hype over the failure of the corn crops in the United States. Much of the problem exists, not because corn is needed to feed hungry people, or even to feed animals, but because it is being used to make ethanol in countries hungry for cheap fuel. The current worldwide economic situation is further contributing to hunger as wealthy nations consider their own needs. As well, over the past few years there have been significant increases in the cost of food production. What may be a source of grumbling for most of us is devastation to millions of people worldwide who have very little income.
The central act of the church is a common meal. Each Sunday we gather in communion with one another. Together we celebrate the Eucharist. Through that celebration we participate more fully in the life of Christ. Bread is taken. It is blessed, broken and distributed. We share bread and wine with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others.
The bridge between God’s abundant provision and the world’s desperate need is the sacrificial love offering of each of us. It is a significant act, for it demonstrates the meaning of the cross. Through the sacrificial act of Christ salvation came. Jesus gave all that he had. A child gave all that he had. We offer all that we are and all that we have. There are so many hungry people. It is not for us to question why. It is for us to use all of our gifts to provide the answer. God acts through us to bring about what is needed. We may feel as insignificant as a little boy with five barley loaves and two small fish. But we are not insignificant to God. By his grace we can be channels of love to others.
Readings: 2 Samuel 11:1-15; Psalm 14; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-15
In the Old Testament reading we are directed away from the public life of King David into his bedroom, his very private life. It is not a pretty picture. In fact one might wonder if this is the same David at all. This surely cannot be the same David whose story has unfolded over the past few weeks. David, the shepherd boy whom God chose to lead the people of Israel, to be their King, David who danced with joy before God as the Ark of the Covenant was brought into the city, David who renewed his Covenant with a loving God?
For today we hear of David’s torrid affair with Bathsheba. And the story does not end with his adulterous behaviour. The story goes on to tell of David’s conniving to unite husband and wife in an attempt to cover up his own guilt. Having failed in his attempt, he engineers the death of Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, clearing the way for his own marriage to her. His self-serving willfulness is in direct contrast to his previous acceptance of God’s will.
Indeed, what place does such a story have in Scripture? What could it possibly teach us about Christian living? Yet it is not the only example of its kind in Scripture. We read many examples of people wanting to do good, and yet doing wrong. It is reflected in the words of Paul when he admits that the things he wants to do are the very things he doesn’t do, and things he doesn’t want to do are the very things he does. And do we not all resonate with that?
It is the struggle we all face, for it is part and parcel of our human nature. It is not that we condone such behaviour. It is that the struggles of David and of Paul are such human struggles. Hearing such stories may give us heart as we deal with our own struggles. We too want to do good, even to be good. Most of the time we manage to suppress what we recognize as being evil. But far too often we are simply unable or unwilling to distinguish between right and wrong. Even when we know the difference, we can choose to ignore it.
It is a paradox which pervades all of society. It is systemic. We do not have to look very far to know that. A look at any newspaper reminds us of that fact. We see it on every newscast. Wherever there is war or an act of terrorism, it is happening. And always we are faced with the discrepancy between rich and poor. But then that has been with us throughout all the ages, even in Jesus’ time. We certainly see that in the Gospel for today.
Hungry people are coming to Jesus. There are the curiosity seekers who are looking to be witnesses to a miracle. There are those who are sick hoping against hope for a cure. There are the spiritually bereft who need to experience Jesus’ care and compassion. All of them are hungry. They keep following him. The crowd swells until there are at least five thousand people gathered. People need to be looked after. How do you take care of five thousand hungry people out in the Galilean countryside?
Jesus turns to Philip, "Where are we to buy bread for them to eat?" He understands the many kinds of hunger they are experiencing. But he knows that their physical needs must first be met. He asks, not because he does not know what to do. He asks as a challenge to the disciples to respond to those who are in need. It is a test of their faith.
Philip's response is very human, totally realistic. We can all hear ourselves saying the same thing. "Six months' wages will not buy enough bread to feed all these people." Philip is right. There is not enough money in the coffers to take care of the problem of feeding five thousand people. If it depends on wealth, the situation is hopeless.
But it doesn’t. It isn't. For Jesus takes bread, simple bread, the everyday food of the poor, bread made of barley, five little loaves, provided by a little boy. His lunch! Jesus gives thanks. He gives it to the people. They eat and are satisfied. They are no longer hungry. They are full.
God’s action in history is a paradox when it comes to hunger and fulfillment. Jesus feeds five thousand people. They have their hunger sated. With a few fish, a little bread, and a word from Jesus, they eat and are filled. Many people are starving, but because Jesus has compassion on a few of those hungry people, and because a little boy has a lunch, they eat and are filled and go home. In the whole scheme of things, it was not very spectacular. It just happened and Jesus left it at that.
Many people are starving in our world. We need to ask ourselves if we are doing enough. What does the Gospel call us to do? As one of the richest nations in the world, we Canadians can find all sorts of reasons why it is not our responsibility to end world hunger. “After all,” we will say to ourselves, “not even six months wages will buy enough bread to feed all the hungry in the world.” And while I am preaching this sermon, twelve thousand children in the world will die of starvation. No matter how we look at it, it is wrong that one in five people go hungry every day. And you will tell me that they go hungry because of famine, or war, or the many natural calamities that take place on our planet. But they go hungry primarily because those of us who can choose to ignore their plight hold the wealth of the world. The situation is getting worse, not better. The number of hungry people has steadily increased since 1995. In part it is because governments and international agencies neglect agriculture relevant to the very poor in favour of wealthy nations. Consider the hype over the failure of the corn crops in the United States. Much of the problem exists, not because corn is needed to feed hungry people, or even to feed animals, but because it is being used to make ethanol in countries hungry for cheap fuel. The current worldwide economic situation is further contributing to hunger as wealthy nations consider their own needs. As well, over the past few years there have been significant increases in the cost of food production. What may be a source of grumbling for most of us is devastation to millions of people worldwide who have very little income.
The central act of the church is a common meal. Each Sunday we gather in communion with one another. Together we celebrate the Eucharist. Through that celebration we participate more fully in the life of Christ. Bread is taken. It is blessed, broken and distributed. We share bread and wine with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others.
The bridge between God’s abundant provision and the world’s desperate need is the sacrificial love offering of each of us. It is a significant act, for it demonstrates the meaning of the cross. Through the sacrificial act of Christ salvation came. Jesus gave all that he had. A child gave all that he had. We offer all that we are and all that we have. There are so many hungry people. It is not for us to question why. It is for us to use all of our gifts to provide the answer. God acts through us to bring about what is needed. We may feel as insignificant as a little boy with five barley loaves and two small fish. But we are not insignificant to God. By his grace we can be channels of love to others.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Proper 15, Year B
Let’s Dance an Alleluia!
Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-4, 12b-19; Psalm 24; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
We have two very different dances in the readings today; one, a dance of life, the other a macabre dance of death.
The dance of life is a great parade with lots of music, song and dance, an exuberant celebration of God’s presence. David and the people of Israel dance before the Lord. The Ark of the Covenant, a symbol of their common life together is returned to the city amidst great rejoicing. This is not David, the dignified King. This is a down to earth David, truly celebrating with the people. He gives in with his whole being, heart, body and soul.
There is, of course an undercurrent of unrest. David is not without political motivation in all of this. It is a victory, after all; one that has not been without violence. Not everyone is pleased. An irreconcilable rift comes between David and his wife Michal. She, for whatever reason, does not join in the celebration.
The dance of death is a story made in Hollywood. In fact, it has been made into a movie. There is also an opera, Salome, depicting the story. Richard Strauss achieved instant success with it. If you have ever seen the opera you know that he admirably captures not only its fairy tale qualities but also its horror. It has an amazing, if terrifying appeal.
The setting is a magnificent banquet hall in Herod’s palace. From a terrace at one side of the hall you can see the dungeon in which John is confined. Salome goes out onto the moonlit terrace to take a look at the prisoner. John has denounced Salome’s mother, Herodias saying that she is an evil woman. Salome is at the same time smitten by John and angered by his words. He seals his fate when she tries to lure him, and he rebukes her instead of succumbing to her charms. Later, during the sumptuous feast, Herod asks the beautiful Salome to dance for him. He tempts her by offering to give her anything she asks. She performs the seductive Dance of the Seven Veils. After its wild climax she demands the head of John the Baptist. Herod, knowing that it is wrong, offers her anything else, peacocks, gems. But he finally gives in and has John executed, then in a fit of remorse kills Salome as well.
The facts, though distorted, do not change the effect of the story. The adultery, the evil, the lack of conscience, the weakness, the spirit of intrigue; all are in opposition to God. John is caught up in the vicious feuding of an evil family. It foreshadows for us the way Jesus gets caught up in the sinful power struggle that leads to his death.
Mark’s story of John’s death is incredibly sophisticated. The characters are truly complex. It tells far more about Herod, Herodias and her daughter than it does about John. The girl is young and impressionable, not yet capable of thinking for herself. Herodias has it in for John to a violent degree. Herod is a total contradiction. He likes to listen to what John has to say, but is condemned because of his adulterous relationship. He protects John, but then has him killed. He is boastful, but he is afraid. He is truly sorrowful for what he has done. Perhaps underneath it all he is a person honestly seeking the truth.
The real question for me all week has been is there a message in the gospel that is relevant for Christians living in the world today? And the answer is, most definitely! I know that it is said that religion and politics should not mix. However, that is impossible, at least in this instance. The reading is about justice. It invites us, above all, to have the courage to be truth tellers. There are consequences, even today, to bearing the prophetic voice. As Anglicans we love to play it safe in order not to offend. There is a sobering reality in the story that calls us to stop playing it safe and take a risk for our faith.
How many times has this story been lived out in our own era? It is a truly contemporary story. It could have been written about Oscar Romero, the voice of the voiceless in El Salvador. An all-powerful government martyred him as the church looked on helplessly.
It could have been written about Esquivel, a human rights worker in Argentina, the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1980. In spite of torture, he continued to witness to his faith and to help the families of those who disappeared, fight back against an oppressive regime.
It is the story of continuing terrorist acts throughout the world. Senseless killing and loss of life carried out over and over again in the name of God!
It is the story of Colombia in South America, designated the most savage country in the world per capita. A never-ending cycle of violence continues in a country described as being at war with itself. A forty-year conflict between government and rebels drags on. And, of course, it is the poor who pay the highest price in a country of thirty five million people where there are an astounding million refugees.
It is the story of many African nations – Sudan, Nigeria, Algeria, of the middle east, of Haiti, of all the troubled spots in our world.
It is a story that happens here in our own country over and over again. I can think of many examples; people hurt or killed in acts of family violence; the case of child soldier, Omar Khadr; acts of homophobia; police brutality during the G20.
The story of Herod and the death of John the Baptist is shocking. But by far the most shocking thing about it is that someone who could have acted differently didn’t. That is also what is most shocking about the stories of violence that take place in our daily lives. For most of the time someone who could have acted differently didn’t, resulting in lives scarred irreparably or lost.
Any act of violence is shocking, all the more shocking when we see that violence is so commonplace. It has become an expression of frustration, which by its silence is condoned by society. We need to find a cure. There are many models put forth for violent behaviour. Movies and television are full of them. Can we replace such models of violence, such heroes, with models of peace, with our own heroes and role models? Can people like St. Francis, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King and Jean Vanier be role models to us? Can we ask God for peace in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls?
The gospel is a call to each of us to seek for justice in the face of entrenched political power. We are called to fight against the violence that abounds in our world. We do not need to be part of it. We can overcome it. We can let God’s peace flourish within us. This can be a different world. Is not that the message of the cross? Jesus came to bring peace. Let us be instruments of peace.
Perhaps the answer lies after all in David’s dance of life. Is it time to put aside the balance sheet, the BCP and the BAS and simply kick up our heels and dance an alleluia to the giver of all good and perfect gifts? Amen
Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-4, 12b-19; Psalm 24; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
We have two very different dances in the readings today; one, a dance of life, the other a macabre dance of death.
The dance of life is a great parade with lots of music, song and dance, an exuberant celebration of God’s presence. David and the people of Israel dance before the Lord. The Ark of the Covenant, a symbol of their common life together is returned to the city amidst great rejoicing. This is not David, the dignified King. This is a down to earth David, truly celebrating with the people. He gives in with his whole being, heart, body and soul.
There is, of course an undercurrent of unrest. David is not without political motivation in all of this. It is a victory, after all; one that has not been without violence. Not everyone is pleased. An irreconcilable rift comes between David and his wife Michal. She, for whatever reason, does not join in the celebration.
The dance of death is a story made in Hollywood. In fact, it has been made into a movie. There is also an opera, Salome, depicting the story. Richard Strauss achieved instant success with it. If you have ever seen the opera you know that he admirably captures not only its fairy tale qualities but also its horror. It has an amazing, if terrifying appeal.
The setting is a magnificent banquet hall in Herod’s palace. From a terrace at one side of the hall you can see the dungeon in which John is confined. Salome goes out onto the moonlit terrace to take a look at the prisoner. John has denounced Salome’s mother, Herodias saying that she is an evil woman. Salome is at the same time smitten by John and angered by his words. He seals his fate when she tries to lure him, and he rebukes her instead of succumbing to her charms. Later, during the sumptuous feast, Herod asks the beautiful Salome to dance for him. He tempts her by offering to give her anything she asks. She performs the seductive Dance of the Seven Veils. After its wild climax she demands the head of John the Baptist. Herod, knowing that it is wrong, offers her anything else, peacocks, gems. But he finally gives in and has John executed, then in a fit of remorse kills Salome as well.
The facts, though distorted, do not change the effect of the story. The adultery, the evil, the lack of conscience, the weakness, the spirit of intrigue; all are in opposition to God. John is caught up in the vicious feuding of an evil family. It foreshadows for us the way Jesus gets caught up in the sinful power struggle that leads to his death.
Mark’s story of John’s death is incredibly sophisticated. The characters are truly complex. It tells far more about Herod, Herodias and her daughter than it does about John. The girl is young and impressionable, not yet capable of thinking for herself. Herodias has it in for John to a violent degree. Herod is a total contradiction. He likes to listen to what John has to say, but is condemned because of his adulterous relationship. He protects John, but then has him killed. He is boastful, but he is afraid. He is truly sorrowful for what he has done. Perhaps underneath it all he is a person honestly seeking the truth.
The real question for me all week has been is there a message in the gospel that is relevant for Christians living in the world today? And the answer is, most definitely! I know that it is said that religion and politics should not mix. However, that is impossible, at least in this instance. The reading is about justice. It invites us, above all, to have the courage to be truth tellers. There are consequences, even today, to bearing the prophetic voice. As Anglicans we love to play it safe in order not to offend. There is a sobering reality in the story that calls us to stop playing it safe and take a risk for our faith.
How many times has this story been lived out in our own era? It is a truly contemporary story. It could have been written about Oscar Romero, the voice of the voiceless in El Salvador. An all-powerful government martyred him as the church looked on helplessly.
It could have been written about Esquivel, a human rights worker in Argentina, the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1980. In spite of torture, he continued to witness to his faith and to help the families of those who disappeared, fight back against an oppressive regime.
It is the story of continuing terrorist acts throughout the world. Senseless killing and loss of life carried out over and over again in the name of God!
It is the story of Colombia in South America, designated the most savage country in the world per capita. A never-ending cycle of violence continues in a country described as being at war with itself. A forty-year conflict between government and rebels drags on. And, of course, it is the poor who pay the highest price in a country of thirty five million people where there are an astounding million refugees.
It is the story of many African nations – Sudan, Nigeria, Algeria, of the middle east, of Haiti, of all the troubled spots in our world.
It is a story that happens here in our own country over and over again. I can think of many examples; people hurt or killed in acts of family violence; the case of child soldier, Omar Khadr; acts of homophobia; police brutality during the G20.
The story of Herod and the death of John the Baptist is shocking. But by far the most shocking thing about it is that someone who could have acted differently didn’t. That is also what is most shocking about the stories of violence that take place in our daily lives. For most of the time someone who could have acted differently didn’t, resulting in lives scarred irreparably or lost.
Any act of violence is shocking, all the more shocking when we see that violence is so commonplace. It has become an expression of frustration, which by its silence is condoned by society. We need to find a cure. There are many models put forth for violent behaviour. Movies and television are full of them. Can we replace such models of violence, such heroes, with models of peace, with our own heroes and role models? Can people like St. Francis, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King and Jean Vanier be role models to us? Can we ask God for peace in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls?
The gospel is a call to each of us to seek for justice in the face of entrenched political power. We are called to fight against the violence that abounds in our world. We do not need to be part of it. We can overcome it. We can let God’s peace flourish within us. This can be a different world. Is not that the message of the cross? Jesus came to bring peace. Let us be instruments of peace.
Perhaps the answer lies after all in David’s dance of life. Is it time to put aside the balance sheet, the BCP and the BAS and simply kick up our heels and dance an alleluia to the giver of all good and perfect gifts? Amen
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Year B (Proper 14)
My Grace is Sufficient
Readings: 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13
There were some people whom Jesus simply could not reach. He was preaching in his hometown synagogue. His message and ministry there were heckled and rejected. People were not able or willing to understand how he could speak with such authority and wisdom. “Where does it all come from?” they ask. After all, isn’t he just a carpenter, the son of Mary, Jo’s boy? Don’t some of his brothers still live in the town? While they acknowledge his wisdom and power they cannot really accept it. After all, they knew him when he was growing up.
Jesus doesn’t really give it a second thought. He doesn’t let it consume him. He simply comments: “Prophets are not without honour, except in their hometown, and among their kin, and in their own house.” Jesus is simply saying that this is the way things are.
Families and people who have known us our whole lives have a habit of cutting us down to size, sometimes gently, often harshly. You can grow up and mature and have a respectable position in the community and still be remembered as the brat who was always getting into a fight. You can be a dependable parent yourself and still be reminded about your teen years when you tried your parents’ patience by coming in late. People can even take offense at your achievements. Human nature being what it is, rather than admit blindness to someone’s growth and change we can become angry at their achievements. How dare he or she prove our assumptions so wrong?
Jesus knew that his disciples would also face rejection. He prepared them for it. He gave them some directions, some rules. They had to take care of their own travel. That is what the staff and sandals were for. But for the rest of their needs they were to depend on the hospitality and resources of the community.
What was it that Jesus wanted the disciples to learn as he sent them out? He has nurtured them. Now he gives them responsibility and the opportunity to decide and respond and to act on their own. He sends them out in pairs. We need mutual support and encouragement. How important it is to have feedback on how your ministry is going! But most of all he is teaching them that they are to rely on God. They are to have no reliance upon their own means. Messengers who wish to provide for every emergency simply do not have enough faith. How can you believe the word of a person who relies on their resources rather than on the message they proclaim? They are to make use of what is provided, but things are in no way to become a hindrance to them.
Most of us do not have the ability or opportunity to come to such an understanding as the disciples did through an experience provided for their learning. I have to say, I did have such an opportunity when I was studying theology. I did a course in Urban Ministry. One of the requirements was to spend two days living on the streets of Toronto. I kept telling myself that I didn’t really need to do it, but it was made clear that if we did not participate we would not pass the course. And so one cold November weekend I set out with only the clothes on my back. Now I had prepared myself. I talked to the street people with whom I was working. “You’ll never survive a weekend on the streets,” they told me. But they helped me to prepare, giving me good advice. “When you ask for money,” they told me, “look for a couple. Look down. Speak to the woman. Have a good story ready. She’ll give you a lecture about finding a job, but then she’ll turn to her husband and tell him to give you something.” I must say, it worked every time.
I knew that in the cold of November I could not sleep outside on a grate. And so I planned on staying in a hostel. I had been working that year in a Food Bank. I remember seeing people pacing in front of the building. I would think to myself, “Why don’t they just come in? We always help them. We always give them something.” Then I found myself pacing in front of a hostel. I must have wandered back and forth for fifteen minutes before I went in. I realized that the most difficult thing for me to do was to say “I need help”. But when I did, the help came. They found me a place to stay.
Over that weekend I questioned whether it was the right thing to do, the ethical thing. But I know that without that life changing experience I could never have learned the things I learned about myself, about ministry, about human nature, and most especially about my need to rely on God. I needed to experience that God’s grace is sufficient for my needs.
Unfortunately in our human fallibility, it takes the crunches, the difficult times of life to bring us closer to God. It is times of affliction, trouble and adversity that cause us to seek refuge and dependence on a higher power.
For one it might be a diagnosis of cancer. How does one deal with the initial shock of the illness? How does one deal with the resulting treatments that leave one physically and emotionally spent? How does one deal with friends who find such illness threatening? How does one face one’s own sense of mortality?
For another it might be the death of a loved one after a long illness, the prospect of a life alone. How does one fill lonely days which have been spent in the care and nurture of one who has been ill? How does one deal with feelings of inadequacy and guilt? How does one deal with anger at being abandoned?
For another it may be the loss of a job after a life-time of dedicated service. How does one begin again? How does one face the financial crunch of being out of work or the feelings of inadequacy as one gets turned down for job after job? How does one even get up in the morning knowing that there is no job to go to? It is the crunch times of life that bring us to the point where we admit that we need God.
It was a crunch time for the apostle Paul that brought him to know that he could depend on God for his needs. He shares at a very deep level about a spiritual experience in his life. It is far from clear just what he experienced, but such things are often beyond words. Then he admits that it was the thorn in his flesh and not the mystical experience that caused him to put his reliance on God. He kept asking God to remove the “thorn”. Finally he accepted God’s response. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
By ourselves we are inadequate to deal with our brokenness. The things that happen to us, the tragedies and difficult times, cause us to question our faith. Can that same brokenness which leads us to seek God help us in some tangible way to cling to God? Can the memory of our brokenness help us to hold on to that sense of dependency when things are going well? Can the reminders of our brokenness prevent us from going backwards in our faith journey?
Henri Nouwen, a Roman Catholic priest and the author of the book “The Wounded Healer”, explains that it is our brokenness that allows us to minister to others. It provides us with an understanding of the brokenness of others. In our brokenness we reach out in compassion to others.
I can well imagine that it was Jesus’ compassion for those in need, which led him to give authority to the twelve whom he had chosen. He certainly intended that in this first period of preaching, they would learn that his power extended beyond his presence and could even be delegated to them. They would learn to depend on God for their needs. They would learn that God could supply their temporal needs. They would learn that despite opposition, God would not fail them. They would learn that even in their weakness they could depend on God.
“My grace is sufficient for you,” God is saying to each one of us. Can we open ourselves to God working through our weaknesses? Can we see God’s grace at work in our lives? Can we learn that reliance on God will help us, not only in our daily lives, but will allow us, in compassion to reach out to others? Amen.
Readings: 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13
There were some people whom Jesus simply could not reach. He was preaching in his hometown synagogue. His message and ministry there were heckled and rejected. People were not able or willing to understand how he could speak with such authority and wisdom. “Where does it all come from?” they ask. After all, isn’t he just a carpenter, the son of Mary, Jo’s boy? Don’t some of his brothers still live in the town? While they acknowledge his wisdom and power they cannot really accept it. After all, they knew him when he was growing up.
Jesus doesn’t really give it a second thought. He doesn’t let it consume him. He simply comments: “Prophets are not without honour, except in their hometown, and among their kin, and in their own house.” Jesus is simply saying that this is the way things are.
Families and people who have known us our whole lives have a habit of cutting us down to size, sometimes gently, often harshly. You can grow up and mature and have a respectable position in the community and still be remembered as the brat who was always getting into a fight. You can be a dependable parent yourself and still be reminded about your teen years when you tried your parents’ patience by coming in late. People can even take offense at your achievements. Human nature being what it is, rather than admit blindness to someone’s growth and change we can become angry at their achievements. How dare he or she prove our assumptions so wrong?
Jesus knew that his disciples would also face rejection. He prepared them for it. He gave them some directions, some rules. They had to take care of their own travel. That is what the staff and sandals were for. But for the rest of their needs they were to depend on the hospitality and resources of the community.
What was it that Jesus wanted the disciples to learn as he sent them out? He has nurtured them. Now he gives them responsibility and the opportunity to decide and respond and to act on their own. He sends them out in pairs. We need mutual support and encouragement. How important it is to have feedback on how your ministry is going! But most of all he is teaching them that they are to rely on God. They are to have no reliance upon their own means. Messengers who wish to provide for every emergency simply do not have enough faith. How can you believe the word of a person who relies on their resources rather than on the message they proclaim? They are to make use of what is provided, but things are in no way to become a hindrance to them.
Most of us do not have the ability or opportunity to come to such an understanding as the disciples did through an experience provided for their learning. I have to say, I did have such an opportunity when I was studying theology. I did a course in Urban Ministry. One of the requirements was to spend two days living on the streets of Toronto. I kept telling myself that I didn’t really need to do it, but it was made clear that if we did not participate we would not pass the course. And so one cold November weekend I set out with only the clothes on my back. Now I had prepared myself. I talked to the street people with whom I was working. “You’ll never survive a weekend on the streets,” they told me. But they helped me to prepare, giving me good advice. “When you ask for money,” they told me, “look for a couple. Look down. Speak to the woman. Have a good story ready. She’ll give you a lecture about finding a job, but then she’ll turn to her husband and tell him to give you something.” I must say, it worked every time.
I knew that in the cold of November I could not sleep outside on a grate. And so I planned on staying in a hostel. I had been working that year in a Food Bank. I remember seeing people pacing in front of the building. I would think to myself, “Why don’t they just come in? We always help them. We always give them something.” Then I found myself pacing in front of a hostel. I must have wandered back and forth for fifteen minutes before I went in. I realized that the most difficult thing for me to do was to say “I need help”. But when I did, the help came. They found me a place to stay.
Over that weekend I questioned whether it was the right thing to do, the ethical thing. But I know that without that life changing experience I could never have learned the things I learned about myself, about ministry, about human nature, and most especially about my need to rely on God. I needed to experience that God’s grace is sufficient for my needs.
Unfortunately in our human fallibility, it takes the crunches, the difficult times of life to bring us closer to God. It is times of affliction, trouble and adversity that cause us to seek refuge and dependence on a higher power.
For one it might be a diagnosis of cancer. How does one deal with the initial shock of the illness? How does one deal with the resulting treatments that leave one physically and emotionally spent? How does one deal with friends who find such illness threatening? How does one face one’s own sense of mortality?
For another it might be the death of a loved one after a long illness, the prospect of a life alone. How does one fill lonely days which have been spent in the care and nurture of one who has been ill? How does one deal with feelings of inadequacy and guilt? How does one deal with anger at being abandoned?
For another it may be the loss of a job after a life-time of dedicated service. How does one begin again? How does one face the financial crunch of being out of work or the feelings of inadequacy as one gets turned down for job after job? How does one even get up in the morning knowing that there is no job to go to? It is the crunch times of life that bring us to the point where we admit that we need God.
It was a crunch time for the apostle Paul that brought him to know that he could depend on God for his needs. He shares at a very deep level about a spiritual experience in his life. It is far from clear just what he experienced, but such things are often beyond words. Then he admits that it was the thorn in his flesh and not the mystical experience that caused him to put his reliance on God. He kept asking God to remove the “thorn”. Finally he accepted God’s response. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
By ourselves we are inadequate to deal with our brokenness. The things that happen to us, the tragedies and difficult times, cause us to question our faith. Can that same brokenness which leads us to seek God help us in some tangible way to cling to God? Can the memory of our brokenness help us to hold on to that sense of dependency when things are going well? Can the reminders of our brokenness prevent us from going backwards in our faith journey?
Henri Nouwen, a Roman Catholic priest and the author of the book “The Wounded Healer”, explains that it is our brokenness that allows us to minister to others. It provides us with an understanding of the brokenness of others. In our brokenness we reach out in compassion to others.
I can well imagine that it was Jesus’ compassion for those in need, which led him to give authority to the twelve whom he had chosen. He certainly intended that in this first period of preaching, they would learn that his power extended beyond his presence and could even be delegated to them. They would learn to depend on God for their needs. They would learn that God could supply their temporal needs. They would learn that despite opposition, God would not fail them. They would learn that even in their weakness they could depend on God.
“My grace is sufficient for you,” God is saying to each one of us. Can we open ourselves to God working through our weaknesses? Can we see God’s grace at work in our lives? Can we learn that reliance on God will help us, not only in our daily lives, but will allow us, in compassion to reach out to others? Amen.
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