Monday, April 27, 2009

Spring Study Leave

After a busy week of meetings, confirmation class visit to a mosque, a memorial service, Reiko's 6th birthday festivities and a pulpit exchange, I'm off for a week of Study Leave.

I'm headed to Princeton's Forum on Youth Ministry (just arrived in Scranton for an overnight pitstop) and will be back to work May 4. In the meantime, Rev. Birchall is available for any pastoral emergencies. See you when I'm back!

Sunday, April 19, 2009

sermon excerpts: "When in Doubt"

The events of that first Easter must have been frantic and mindboggling for the disciples. What was anyone supposed to believe? Amid the confusion and chaos, Jesus appears in a locked and sheltered room to the disciples. His words are ones of comfort and care – peace be with you, the Holy Spirit be with you, forgiveness be with you, the implication being to go and share these gifts and new understanding of life and faith. Those gathered receive those words and are amazed. All except for one person, who wasn’t there.

Thomas is another one in the Bible who bears the brunt of a one-sided telling of a story. The poor guy comes back to the room; he had been out so he misses out on the experience of Jesus’ resurrected reappearance. He could only go by what the others told him. We don’t know of the group dynamics of the 12 or what the full extent of Judas’ betrayal did to their sense of trust and safety with each other.

Nevertheless, I’m sure there were practical jokes and laughter at the expense of others, so Thomas might have dismissed this tale as a warped and cruel joke. Somebody’s expressing grief in a peculiar fashion. Thomas’ reaction can be expected and understood.

He wants to see the wounds from the cross, to be sure that it was the same Jesus that was crucified. Which would be rather morbid had not Jesus already done so before. All Thomas wants is to have the same opportunity that the others did, to have the same information to base his decision on. Is that doubt or just wanting to be treated equally?

Any reasonable person would do the same and yet he carries the dubious title of Doubting Thomas for all the millennia that follow. That’s what you get for not being there.

For us today, we may be, for different reasons, wondering: Who is not here, who is missing out? What would it take to convince them of what happened here today? Is it necessary to examine and touch scars and wounds? We know the pain and discomfort of poking at injury, stirring up hornets nests long since discarded …

We are known by our scars. They are what distinguish us, show that we have lived life, that we have been scathed by accident, intention or mishap. We have scars and wounds as individual people, as a community, as a church.

We have been hurt, made vulnerable, but survived. They are part of our story, of who we are. As a United Church of Canada, we show the marks of good intentions with First Nations residential schools and the harm they caused. We were beaten up in 1988 with the provocative stance that sexual orientation has no bearing upon the suitability of a candidate for ministry.

Granted our own pain and experiences do not compare to crucifixion, but our scars and wounds tell the tale of who we are. They speak of our presence at the cross. We are not perfect, we have not escaped through life untouched.

We are damaged people, of that there is no doubt. And still, we are renewed and redeemed. There is the Easter miracle. For all our hurt and injury, pain and suffering, we are not abandoned or all.

Doubts and questions, desire for proof, for more information, to be included in the greater knowledge is the one characteristic that Thomas is mocked for. Lost in this story is the message of Christ: peace be with you. The Spirit is with you. Forgiveness is with you – do with it what you will. Thomas does not doubt this. Neither can we.

Monday, April 13, 2009

for Apr. 19 - John 20: 19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
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What feelings, questions, thoughts and prompts to personal action arise from this scripture?
What about hymn suggestions or ideas for Children's Time? Share them as Comments below or in an email, and help shape Sunday's worship service.

sermon excerpts: "The Gardener Did It" (John 20: 1-18)

... Mary, at the tomb, gets Peter and John to check things out and they confirm the body of Christ is missing. Overcome by loss, confusion and she does not recognize Jesus as he stands there before her in his risen, resurrected glory. Why would she? It would make no sense for her to expect to see him, as best she could figure, who else would be out there at that time of day … the groundskeeper, the gardener?

And we find again a suggestion that Christ lives on in each of us. In the same way that we can for a minute see a glimpse of a friend or family member in a complete stranger. Or the way memories come flooding back of a person or a place through some random trigger. The risen Christ seen as a gardener reminds me of this.

We are comforted that life is bigger than our own experience – there is a universe beyond our understanding and we have connections by our spirit to this great mystery. Jesus warns Mary to not touch him and this tells of the fact that our spirits are never limited to our bodies. I don’t know if I will ever have a satisfactory answer for what exactly happened that morning in the garden – why Mary didn’t know who Jesus was, being the least of the questions.

Is it a case of soul-rending grief leading to a case of mistaken identity? We’ve come a long way from that first Easter. We know the full story, of Jesus’ resurrection, of the formation of a new religion, and the world changed by 2000 years of Christianity. But are we so different as people from that time, is the world a better place?

While we may as individuals be changed by the conviction of our faith, comforted by the power of life over death, assured by the promise of deliverance, does the world believe this? So much of our medical technology and philosophy is focused on fighting death, preserving life at all costs. Democracy, socialism, communism, dictatorships all pale in the light of Christ’s commands to love and serve one another.

And despite the lesson from the guy in the garden, we tend to discount the divinity in others. And in ourselves. We know how fallible and imperfect we are, especially the driver who cuts us off in traffic, the telemarketer who interrupts our dinner, the customer or proprietor who insists on being a jerk … can the glory of God’s goodness and love for all creation be found in mere mortals?

For this reason, we join together as fellow travelers on the journey of faith. Together, despite our flaws, we are stronger than alone. Together we learn, and grow, and teach lessons of life, love and faith. As we meet people in our lives, as we remember them when they leave our lives, we celebrate the spark of life and rebirth that our Creator has placed within each of us. Gardener and God, Christ goes before us.

Together, we dine together at the table, recalling again the events of the last supper, the Passover of betrayal, the prayers of anguish in a garden. But foremost, we remember the new command – to remember Christ in the ordinary acts of eating and drinking, tasting of earthly flavours, that we might know that our faith in action is ordinary and extraordinary, mundane and divine both.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Good Friday message: "Jesus Remember Me ..."

The plea is for Jesus to remember us when he comes into his kingdom. Surely this isn’t the kingdom that he had in mind. Earthquakes in Italy, pirates in Somalia, life and death choices for terminally ill infants in Toronto, a missing girl in Woodstock, the closing of the Veltri plant … what is the world coming to? This is not his kingdom. It’s not even one that we’d create for ourselves. But it’s the one we find ourselves in. And it seems that our only recourse is to pray that Jesus remembers us.
...
The stories and experiences of the people in the Good Friday gospel are the stories and experiences that we live ourselves. To know doubt and dissent, the dissatisfaction of compromise, the loss of unshakeable truths, we know what is like to be fearful of the unknown that lies ahead. We know what it is like when government systems shuffle cases and issues back and forth, passing responsibility off to another office. We know that people suffer and are ridiculed, even harmed for taking a stand and living their cause with conviction.

Such is the kingdom of today. This is not Jesus’ kingdom. His is a life without fear of being who we actually are and not who we think we should be. Until we find that place where we live fully and wholly has a just and loving worldwide community of peace and graciousness, we find ourselves on the road to the cross.

So we remember that the Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering, is an actual place that still exists. Yet it is so easy to get caught up in our lives, in our own problems, in our own issues that we lose sight of our connection to one another in this community, in this world. Were it not for high holy days such as Christmas and Easter, our society would forget about the faith that has sustained it for so long.

Already it seems we have forgotten much about our leaders and teachers of faith, those who walked this earth and taught us the value of belief in a greater purpose, trust in a greater good and solace in a greater presence. Whether it is Christ or Mohammad or Buddha, or even great-grandparents who have built our churches, their stories become obscured by time.

Jesus remember us, when you come into your kingdom. I pray we might do the same, that we remember him, as we travel the ways of our earthly empires. To give voice to our spiritual needs, to stand accountable for our faith, and through trials and suffering find dignity and inner resolve. If this is the way of the cross, we at least travel together. We do not go alone, and we follow someone who has gone before us. It is his life, and death, that we remember.

* * *
And the "malediction":

Let us go forth into a hurting world, aware of loss, betrayal, suffering and tragedy.
Keenly aware of darkness and death, let us resolve to resist the powers of evil, apathy and empire.
So we go, knowing the terror of crucifixion and injustice of popular opinion.
We go, uncertain and unsure, knowing only that Easter and good news will follow somehow.
In the meantime, with the heavy burdens our own spirits carry, we bear a cross of discipleship and discernment.
We go into God’s good Friday. Amen.

Monday, April 6, 2009

sermon excerpts: "Low Rider" (Mark 11: 1-11)

... ["Low Rider" is a term from the 1960's referring to customized cars, which are once again in vogue through movies like "Fast & Furious"]. I mention low rider in reference to the animal that Jesus rode into Jerusalem. Although I am using the term as meaning low in stature or status, which is ironic given the tricked out nature of such cars scream to be noticed the drivers and riders want to draw attention to them.

What they’d done was adapt and customize what they had to suit their needs or preferences. This is what Jesus did with his handpicked ride into the city. The colt was a deliberate and predestined choice of the Saviour seeking to manage the fickle nature of crowds, to fulfill the words of Zechariah’s ancient prophecy about the Messiah’s triumphant return, to emphasize his message of peace. ...

So maybe the image of a Saviour on a colt, a mere beast of burden, was so out of place that it caught people’s attention and imagination .... the spectacle of a ragtag group of unimportant people parading with cloaks and tree branches, crying out for salvation to a man on a colt, would warrant a second look because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. But it would be a telling snapshot of Jesus’ ministry: the servant king humbling himself for others to follow his example.

And what happens after? Jesus goes to the Temple. He has a look around. And goes to Bethany where he spends the night. It’s kind of anticlimactic, given all the fuss of early that day. The next day he’s back at the Temple and tossing moneychangers out on the street and really making a name for himself. But the triumphant entry into Jerusalem was in many respects, unremarkable.
For all the fuss we wonder what is going on and what it means. We can look at it a couple ways – time was running out. It was too late to do anything. Or, there is always another day, another opportunity to do God’s work.

It is this sense of time, of urgency and pressure that we find our churches facing this Easter season. For all the pomp and ceremony we’ve mustered over our history, "the sense of what do we do now?" has settled in. We’re looking around and suddenly seeing that the hour is late and there isn’t much time left for us to do anything.

Not that I’m trying to alarm or depress you with dire and catastrophic news of impending ruin. I remain firmly convinced that the Spirit of God and our own call to ministry in this community is stronger than financial hardship or flagging resources.

Much like the street racing, automotive-tinkering, low riders, we need to tailor the vehicle that is the church to be more suited to who we are and what we’re trying to do. Not to draw attention to ourselves, but as an expression of identity and a measure of effective stewardship – to use our time, energy and efforts as best we can.

What will that look like? Whether it is the building itself, part-time ministry with more reliance on the congregation’s skills, expanded partnership with other churches, I can’t say. I don’t know. It would be more honest, more streamlined, individualized to suit the personality of our community. But we have the sense that it will be lower in stature that what we’ve been used to – but that isn’t a bad thing.

Jesus rode a colt, simple and steady into what we call Holy Week. People still shouted hosanna. We, in our time, centuries and continents away remember his ministry all the more for it. Let us journey in the same manner, on a path of humbleness and holiness together. We are not alone. Thanks be to God.