Through the Wilderness

If you’re part of any christian faith tradition, you may be in the middle of Lent right now. If you’re not, you might want to consider that the origin of the name isn’t anything to do with a loan or borrowing, it means “springtime” or “lengthening of days.” So maybe instead of the classic church traditions, you might just consider that now is an opportune time to do some spring cleaning.

That’s a worthwhile way to see Lent, I think. You’re taking time for some self-reflection, working on yourself a bit, maybe letting go or cleaning out some baggage, maybe dusting off some things you haven’t looked at for awhile. That’s what those spiritual practices that churches often suggest are meant to do. “Abstinence, prayer and almsgiving” are personal things you can do in order to direct your contemplation, thoughts, reflecting on who you are, your relationship with God (however you know God) and the world around you. It’s about working on you.

That makes sense, given that the story that inspires Lent is Jesus going into the wilderness alone to be tempted or tested or find himself, depending on how you understand the story. Or which version: it’s in three of the four gospels. It’s worth remembering, by the way, that each account says the Holy Spirit goes with him. That same spirit of life is in you and me and all living things. It’s the very power and energy we need to do life, so that’s what you’re working with when we’re tested or tempted or working on ourselves.

But Jesus isn’t the only one in the Bible who goes into the wilderness to find himself. His ancestors spent forty years wandering in the wilderness. Having spent generations in slavery in Egypt, the story goes, God sent Moses to lead them out of that life into a new life as their own nation. But they weren’t ready to be that, they needed to learn, to figure out who they are, what their relationship is with God, and learn how to care for each other and live together - as a people, a community, a nation. The experiences they had, how they were fed (spiritually and physically), the “commandments” even, were all about how they live together in relationship. They weren’t lost in the desert, they were finding their way.

Now seems to be a good time for us all to think about that, too. It can feel very much like we’re lost in a wilderness right now, one devoid of love, empathy, compassion, grace or even basic respect, not just individually but as communities, as peoples, cultures, nations. Whether it’s war (or whatever we’re calling it this week), politics, services, business or society in general, strength seems to be measured in weapons, power over others, brutality, meanness and just plain cruelty. Before we get mired in that wilderness, maybe we should be looking for the ways in which we can learn our way out of it.

Let’s look for leaders who build relationships, look for equity and model respect and care. Let’s look for ways to care for the sick, broken and hurting, to use what resources we have to support the weakest among us and lift people up, not knock them down. Let’s look for ways to build peace on mutual respect and build trust, honouring people for who they are and how they live. Let’s look for ways to imagine, create and build together.

I know what that sounds like. Warm, fuzzy, even woke. It is. It’s also Jesus. It’s also easily set aside as an unattainable ideal, just as Jesus often is. But maybe the first things to hold onto in the wilderness are our creativity and imagination. Maybe the first things to hold onto are each other.

Let It Go

Did you give up something for Lent this year? Maybe that’s not such a big thing anymore. Maybe Lent isn’t, either. But back in the day, it was always the “go to” thing to do.

The old traditional three practices of Lent are abstinence, prayer and almsgiving. Yeah, it’s that old that some churches still say “almsgiving.” It means giving money or food - or doing charitable acts - for the poor. Abstinence is the giving up part and prayer is, well, prayer. Maybe it’s because prayer and care for the poor are meant to be things we do all the time, but abstinence tended to be the one that got very specific attention.

Usually that attention was directed at things we saw as tempting pleasures. People often gave up smoking, coffee, chocolate - things that could tie into the “temptation” theme of the Jesus-in-the-wilderness story that inspired the season. Historically, it was things like fatty foods and fun things. That’s what gives us the tradition of pancake suppers on the last day before Lent begins. Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras was the final opportunity to use up all that stuff you couldn’t use in Lent and have a good time doing it.

The point of that abstinence, though, is that it’s meant to be something that inspires your attention and focus on the purpose of Lent, that it’s a time of self-reflection, a time of discovery about your self, your relationship with God, and with the world. You let go a physical, earthly pleasure in order that you can focus on the spiritual.

I think - and you can call it semantics, if you like - “let go” is probably a better route to spiritual practice than abstinence or giving something up.

What if, instead of giving up something pleasurable or even something we see as physical sustenance (if we fasted, for instance) for a short period of time, we could let go of something weightier? Maybe even as a step to letting it go beyond the forty days of Lent.

Say, instead of giving up that coffee or chocolate, we let go of some anger. Or hate. Or ignorance. Maybe we could let go of some of that fear or that shame for feeling imperfect. Maybe we could couple that with taking some things on, like patience or love or learning or confidence or self awareness of how singularly meaningful we are just as we are.

Maybe we could let go of some of those things we’ve cast in stone and wonder and ask questions about them instead.

The author of the gospel of John tells a story about Jesus meeting Nicodemus, a pharisee, someone whose job was strictly keeping the law and traditions. He literally kept the things cast in stone cast in stone. But this pharisee has questions. Not doubts, questions. He’s wondering about Jesus and what he’s teaching.

The story even has him come to Jesus at night. Sure that could be because he was afraid to be seen talking to Jesus, but it could just as easily be because he had a busy day. Or it could have been a simple metaphor about coming from the darkness to see the Light. 

I think Nicodemus represents all of us who need to let go of some things in order that we might learn and grow. Jesus describes that to him as being born “anew” by the spirit, a new beginning, a new way of life. I think Nicodemus begins to experience that here. He begins to let go of the letter of those laws and see what’s written on the heart, what’s the true meaning of how we should be, with ourselves, with God, and with each other.

Whatever might be weighing you down, perhaps Lent’s a good time to let it go and be inspired by the spirit to wonder, to learn and to grow.

It's Time For Lent

How do you know God?

That’s the language I’m going to use because it’s my faith tradition, but you might know God in other terms. Like creator or spirit or a higher power, the universal energy of life, love, the fabric of creation in which we are all a thread. You can even call it the Force if you want to, I still think we may well be talking about the same thing.

You might not even think in those terms. Okay. I’d still like to ask: have you wondered about it?

I think you should. Just my opinion, of course, and you’re not obligated to - it’s not like anyone can demand that you do. I’m just inviting you to take some time to wonder about things. Things like: what feeds your spirit, your heart and soul; do you know the uniqueness of who you are and how much you are loved by God (however you know God), just for being that; do you see how your uniqueness is connected to everyone else, how you are a valuable part of life and how that relationship is shared?

I know, big questions, “life, the universe and everything” kind of questions. God questions.

You can fine tune them, of course, and work on things that are more specific and feel more real and present to where you find yourself in your journey through life. But it really is a good idea to do that every so often. It’s checking in on where you’re at and building things for the days ahead. 

Spiritual reflection has real practical application, doesn’t it. Knowing what nourishes you, knowing you’re loved, and loving, and knowing that we’re all connected - bring that to relationships with respect, an open heart and an open mind, a little grace and some empathy and just imagine what you could do.

The world seems to missing those things a lot these days. Imagine how different it could be, even just in your small corner.

I think that’s where Jesus found himself. Literally. Each of the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke begin their stories of the adult Jesus with him going into the wilderness to be tested, tempted or well, find himself.

The sequence is important. The adult Jesus appears, go to John to be baptized (just like everyone else), then he goes into the wilderness and then he goes into his ministry, his life of teaching and healing, and living that with the world.

There’s something else common to the stories, too. Each account says that Jesus goes into the wilderness with the Spirit. I think Jesus is taking time in solitude to work on himself, but also his relationship with God and how that can be lived out. Later Jesus will remind us: love God, love your neighbour as you love yourself.

Matthew and Luke have the devil appear to test or tempt Jesus three times. But these temptations are essentially biblical ways of asking the same questions I asked earlier: what feeds your spirit; do you know the uniqueness of who you are and how much you are loved by God, just for being that; do you see how your uniqueness is connected to everyone else, how you are a valuable part of life and how that relationship is shared?

Read the story in Matthew 4:1-11. This is the story that the season of Lent is built on. We’ve added so many traditions and practices, but essentially those should all be focusing us on this wilderness experience, this time of reflection and discovery that we can then live into in the days ahead. What are you doing with your Lent?

How We Are One

I began last time with “it can be a harrowing experience trying to follow the news. There’s a lot going on and a lot of it isn’t good and that can be overwhelming.”

I didn’t think it would get so much worse so quickly.

I also wrote about how it’s important to stay engaged, even if it’s important to have a break, a little vacation even, now and then. In fact, we can’t disconnect completely because we’re so intimately connected. I mentioned “ubuntu” and “all my relations” as a way of reminding us that we are meant to be connected, to live in community, that we are one family on this earth. The fullness of our living and our own sense of wholeness is reliant on our unique individuality being lived out in community.

I suggested the opening of what we call the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew was a really good place to hear something affirming, positive and inspiring about this. Before he gets into all the teaching about how to live well and to live out the good that is in every heart, Jesus says something important about us, something we need to begin with, before all the teaching. It’s the foundation on which the teaching is lived. Otherwise it would just be behaviour.

Jesus looks at the people and sees all the poor, the weak, broken and hurting, the oppressed, the abused, the despairing. He sees the immigrants, the indigenous people, the Black people, the people of colour, the gay and queer and trans people, the people of different faiths and no faith at all. And he tells them they’re blessed. Just as they are. They are all children of God, loved by God, worthy to be the unique individual they are.

And he tells them they are salt and light. Not only are they created of the earth and the divine spirit of God, just like it says in Genesis and just like Jesus, it’s because of that they flavour the world around them, they interact with it, are connected to it and can shine in it. Just like the blessing, Jesus tells them - and us - that we are these things, not that we can be, but we already are. Salt of the earth and light for the world.

I know I said all that before. It bears repeating. Here’s the thing the tragedy in BC this week reminds us: we share our grief, too. Regardless of rhetoric being tossed around, ideologies and politics, in this moment we are one. We see that in ourselves, from the ordinary person at home to our leaders, and others do as well. King Charles and leaders of other countries offered love, condolences and support to the victims, their families, the people of Tumbler Ridge and the people of our nation because they know that’s who we are. In moments like this, we grieve together. We offer open hearts, broken open by grief, to share our love and support as one family, one people.

Jesus, I think, encourages us to share our love and our grief, to offer care and support and be open to sharing with each other because we are connected. We are salt and light, we are bound to each other in creation by the earth and by the spirit of life. There is work that needs to be done in the days ahead, but in this moment we offer prayer, we keep people in our thoughts and we share their grief, hoping that in that connectedness we are sharing spirit, a spirit of life and love.

In that spirit, in that connectedness, we can resist fear and hold our anger. The light of love is what needs to shine today. 

Where To Start

It can be a harrowing experience trying to follow the news. There’s a lot going on and a lot of it isn’t good and that can be overwhelming. So what can you do when you’re overwhelmed by all the conflict, the hate, the abuse of power, the death and destruction?

Some people simply stop reading or watching it. They disengage and disconnect from the world. Okay, that’s reasonable for a short break, a vacation or rest from it, sure. But you can’t really disconnect from the world completely. It’s coming for you, first of all, because you live in it. And, just as importantly, we’re built for it. 

You might be familiar with the African term “ubuntu.” It has a variety of related meanings, but essentially says “I am because we are.” It means we’re connected, relational, meant to be together, our uniquenesses meant to be complimenting each other in community.

Or how about “all my relations,” the indigenous phrase that highlights our connectedness to each other and all of creation.

Yeah, an occasional holiday might help, but you can’t just ignore the world around you and have a life that’s whole and full. That’s not to say that any life is free from struggle, hurt or hardship, of course, but engaging the world around you is how we live.

So you’re feeling overwhelmed. Read the first part of chapter 5 in the Gospel of Matthew. It’s the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, a lengthy collection of some of the most important sayings of Jesus, things that teach us how to live well, build relationships, build a world that’s good, with kindness, compassion and love. The good stuff.

But before Jesus gets to any of that, he lays the foundation on which it has to be built. He begins with looking at the crowd around him and seeing those who seem to have lost hope, the broken, the poor, the homeless, the oppressed and abused, the overwhelmed. He tells us we’re blessed. Just as we are, whatever our place or condition in life, we are blessed simply to be. We’re all children of God, created in love. These are the Beatitudes, recognizing that wherever and however people find themselves in life, that we are all blessed.

He doesn’t stop there. He says we are salt of the earth. We season and flavour the world around us, bringing our essential uniqueness to impact it. We are light, too, to shine in the world, to show the world who we are, enlighten the world and shine on a path to good. Remember how, in the creation story, we are made of the earth and of the divine spirit of God? Salt and Light.

Here’s the most important part: in all of that, Jesus never says we will be blessed if we do this or do that, we will be salt and light if we behave this way or that. He says we already are. We are blessed. We are salt and light. Now: use it.

That’s the point. We already are these things, it’s about putting that to work in the world. That’s what brings the wholeness, the fullness, what Jesus describes in himself as the fulfilment of the law. What Jesus teaches about being true to the essential good that is in each of us, about living that into the world and how we do that, isn’t about behaviour, it’s about being.

All that Jesus teaches in this Sermon on the Mount and in his own living is built on this. We begin in knowing we are blessed, just as we are, and that we are of the earth and the divine spirit and we are connected to each other by that. And now, back to the news: what can we do?

That's What It Takes

If you spend anytime at all reading or watching the news, you probably have the same sense of dread, anxiety, anger, disbelief, sadness - the list could go on and on - that I have. It’s hard enough seeing what’s happening in the world and then, just this week, the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists moved the Doomsday Clock to 85 seconds to midnight. That’s the closest it’s ever been.

If you’re not familiar, the ominous sounding Doomsday Clock has been measuring how close we are to completely destroying all life on the planet since 1947. It might seem arbitrary, but it’s a way to indicate how serious the risk to the world is, taking into consideration “politics, energy, weapons, diplomacy, and climate science.” It gives very real meaning to “the end is near.”

It doesn’t have to be.

Lots of people would like it very much if religion just stuck to, well, religious stuff, but here’s some news: faith traditions have been talking about "politics, energy, weapons, diplomacy, and climate science” all along. In our own way. Jesus did, too. And the prophets.

Sadly, we’ve also been part of the doomsday side of all that. Through history, we’ve often been part of the worst of war, power struggles, the immense chasm between the rich and poor, the abuse and oppression of people, the destruction of land. We’ve lost our way as much as anyone.

But Jesus, the prophets and any like minded faith-filled figures that are true to what God is really all about (however you understand that word, God) constantly try to bring us back, back to understanding how truly blessed we are, just as we are, to be a part of this wonder that is the world we live in. Back to understanding that we are good and that we are capable of living good into the world.

When people are being oppressed, even killed by the very people meant to keep them safe, when power is abused to enrich a select few, when the earth is overwhelmed by greed, when people fear and hate what they don’t know or understand and unity seems a far off dream, we might wonder what could possibly put things right.

Well, love could.

Now, come on, I can hear the dismissive “pfft” already. Let me put it a little differently.

Suppose we were to approach everything by doing what was truly just and right. Suppose we offered kindness and care to everyone, respecting their humanity rather than simply judging them. Suppose we chose to walk together with grace and compassion, seeking equity with each other rather than power over others. Suppose we simply sought the good in each other and engaged each other in a way that could build relationships rather than conflicts. Suppose we tried that.

Micah is one of the minor prophets in Hebrew scripture. He framed it like this. He describes a scene as if all of nature was a court room in which God pleads their case for all that God has done for the people. And the people reply with all the stuff they could do, things that they could give. And God says no, all that’s needed is this: do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.

I believe God is the spirit of life and love that connects all of us and humbly acknowledging that brings us together, to walk together on the road to what is good, being kind and compassionate, being just and standing up for what is right. You could say God or you can use whatever word has that meaning for you and we could try to walk together, live kindness and do justice. That could change things.

It Wasn't For The Free Fish

I wonder sometimes why Jesus chose fishers as his first disciples.

The gospel of John doesn’t mention their profession, but the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke all record a similar story of Jesus calling the first disciples. As Jesus begins his ministry, he walks by the Sea of Galilee. “He saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’ Immediately they left their nets and followed him” (Matt. 4:18-20). The gospel of Matthew doesn’t even mention how Jesus called any of the other twelve, except one: Matthew, a tax collector.

So why fishers? Imagine if it were some other occupation. Like, maybe Jesus was walking in the marketplace one day and the first people he met were a couple of tax collectors. Follow me, Jesus says, and I’ll make you collect people. Or, at least a percentage of them based on their relative incomes.

That one doesn’t seem to work as well.

What if they’d been shepherds? That’s a familiar image in scripture, generally, and Jesus is the Good Shepherd. Follow me, and I will make you herd people. That’s a bit better, I suppose, and there’s lots of sheep and shepherding in the bible, but it still doesn’t have that same “oomph” as fishers.

Do you think the story would have changed any if they had been shepherds? Or carpenters, maybe? It likely Jesus learned Joseph’s trade. It would have made sense for him to go to people whose work he was familiar with. He’d know them, he’d be one of them. He’d fit right in.

What if they’d be farmers?  Or shopkeepers or any other occupation?

Not everyone likes fish.  Not everyone likes to fish. And don’t even start me on the difference between recreational fishing and fishing as a job. These people fished for a living and it was hard physical work, reliant on nature. First century fishers weren’t well off, and then there were those tax collectors. I imagine first-century-middle-eastern-fisherman was a tough job.

Then there’s that “fishing for people” metaphor. It has a lot of contemporary baggage and likely did then. And, in Hebrew scripture, it had even more. Jeremiah uses it as a metaphor for collecting people for divine judgement (Jer. 16:6-18). Yikes.

I wonder if, beyond the ordinary, everyday, practical nature of the occupation, what they did was all that important to the story. Other than they weren’t priests, because I don’t think this is just a story about calling religious leaders - priests, ministers, pastors, whatever our traditions call them. It’s for everyone, every ordinary, everyday person.

This is a story about living into the call that we all have as children of God. The life Jesus called them to was precisely that: life.  John’s gospel touches on this, too, when Jesus “names” Simon — Jesus knows who Simon really is, in his heart of hearts, and calls him to live into being Peter, which means “rock.” 

I think Jesus could already see what was in the heart of these fishermen. The same thing that’s in all our hearts: love and a desire for relationship built on that love. (No matter how hard we might try to ignore it or hide it.) He called these to come and learn how to live it fully in their lives so that others would learn, too.

Paul will later write that we all have different gifts and skills, but are still part of one “body” in Jesus. In fact, he’ll frequently be reminding the early churches that everyone’s gift, skill and occupation is valuable and needed but that, as the hymn says, “Christ is our unity.”

Jesus didn’t call the fisherman to different employment or even different traditions. He called them to live more fully the love and grace already within them. Jesus calls us all to that life, whatever our occupation, employment or skill set. Jesus doesn’t ask us to give up our daily lives, but to live them more fully.