How The Story's Told

I often like to remind people that, when reading the gospel stories about Jesus, it’s important to wonder about who’s telling the story and why the story’s being told.

While there are stories common to all the gospels, particularly Matthew, Mark and Luke, there are some that aren’t. In addition, those that are may be basically similar, but have unique details and offer a different perspective. Every storyteller tells a story their way and I think it’s important to consider why.

That being said, I also think it’s important to consider what’s not in the story. I know I have no proof of this, and I wasn’t there, but I often think that there’s a lot missing in the gospels.

Like, did Jesus just mostly preach the way we do, talking at people who sit quietly and listen, or was his style more interactive? I’ve often thought it would be great if someone interrupted a sermon, either to ask a question or challenge something I said, so that we could have a conversation about it. I wonder if that happened to Jesus.

Did Jesus only ever say any of these things once or did he repeat them? If I heard Jesus speak in one town and followed him to the next, would I hear the same message or would it be a new one, in which case I would definitely need to follow him everywhere to hear everything. Let me check my schedule.

What about at night or a day off, when he was off the clock. Did Jesus have nothing to say or did he share some things with his closest friends around the camp fire that we’re missing out on? I know that we don’t always say things everyone needs to hear, but I wonder if we might be missing something.

Okay, some of that might seem frivolous (and I do have more), but most importantly, I wonder about those stories where Jesus meets someone and heals them, changing their life, and moves on. It all seems to happen so fast, as if Jesus already knew all about them. He fixes them and they move on, never to be heard from again. It just seems like the point of that character is to demonstrate the power of Jesus as the son of God and that’s - ah, I get it.

But. What if the real power of Jesus isn’t to show us what Jesus can do that we can’t, but to show us that we, too, are capable of these acts of love, kindness, compassion and grace? What if Jesus was trying to show us the power of empathy, that, in opening our hearts to others, we find relationship and connection that helps all of us thrive. What if Jesus was all about sharing the power with each other, not having power over others.

I wonder if Jesus could see when someone was hurting, broken or disconnected from the world, in body, mind or spirit, and then he would sit with them and say “tell me your story.” And he’d listen, really listen. That’s where the healing would begin. That’s where the sense of “being seen” would begin. That’s where they’d begin to feel part of the wholeness of creation again. That’s a much longer story than a few verses of scripture. 

Empathy’s not a weakness. It’s what we’re missing most right now. I think it was the source of Jesus’ ability to heal and connect and bring people to reconciliation and then to wholeness. We need that.

Just Like You and Me

Do you know the names of the twelve apostles?

When I was a kid, way back in the day, that was one of the things we memorized in Sunday school, along with the Lord’s Prayer, the Ten Commandments, the 23rd Psalm and a few other things. I think there was a song about their names, too, but to be honest, I don’t remember it. It’s also doubtful, if you asked me today, that I could come up with all twelve names.

Don’t judge me, please, I’m just terrible with names. Faces, I’m pretty good with, but that’s not helpful since we have no idea what they looked like. Their names we have, though, listed in each of Matthew, Mark and Luke, and the eleven in Acts. Judas Iscariot was gone by then, of course. Him I remember.

Only a few of them have back stories elsewhere in the gospels, but the list of their names appears in the context of Jesus commissioning them to go and spread the good news, heal people and cast out demons. There are so many in need, Jesus sends them out to be Jesus, basically.

Whenever we talk about the gang as a group, we try to emphasize that Jesus chose ordinary, everyday people. Some were fishermen, there was a tax collector, even the ones who don’t have a story seem to be just ordinary, everyday people. As far as we know, Jesus didn’t choose theologians, religious leaders, academics, people with specific special gifts, not doctors, warriors or politicians. Ordinary, everyday people who were imperfect, sometimes struggled to understand, had egos and tempers and didn’t always get along. You know, ordinary everyday people - just like you and me. 

And that’s the point we try to make: ordinary, just like you and me.

I wonder, though, if there isn’t another reason Jesus picked them, specifically, rather than just anyone. I think he picked them because they were extraordinary in a particular way.

When Jesus commissions them to go out and be Jesus to people - share the message, heal people, offer compassion and grace - he’s not sending them out to behave or put on a show. They can’t “Jesus” for others if they’re aren’t authentic, sincere and true to the divine spirit that’s in them, too, just like in Jesus. To be that, they need to risk being vulnerable and opening their heart to others with both empathy and compassion.

They aren’t perfect at it. (Sidebar: Jesus wasn’t either. Read the stories.) They’re just starting out, still learning and growing into their true selves, still figuring out how to balance that divine spirit within them and the earthiness of their creation. But it all begins with an open heart, the greatest tool they have with which to engage people. Jesus doesn’t send them to show how much better they are than anyone else because they’re from Jesus, he sends them to have empathy, to offer grace and healing. He doesn’t send them to show how smart they are or how super religious they are, but to simply share the good news: the kingdom is near. The Good Road is there to be travelled and we can travel together. 

I imagine Jesus would then point them out to people and say “look at these guys. They’re extraordinary. Just like you.”

Wholeness of Community

I’m repeating myself (again), but since it’s Pride month, Indigenous History month and the United Church of Canada is 101 on June 10th, here’s an annual reminder of what it says on the church crest: “that all may be one” (John 17:21) and “all my relations.”

Can you imagine what the world would be like if people were all “the same.” What if creation was full of sameness, the trees and flowers, the animals and birds, the rivers and lakes and oceans? You can't, really, can you? And why would you even want to. Thank God for diversity.

Say “God,” if that’s how you know God, or call it love, the energy of creation, the power of the Universe, a Higher Power, the fabric of creation or however you know that oneness that connects all things, but it’s that very Oneness that is our unity that allows for the diversity that’s built upon it. We're all unique, not only in appearance but in age, gender, personality, skills, philosophy, culture and religion. There is only one of you. In fact, all of creation is unique and different. And that’s awesome.

But we are all still intrinsically connected to each and every part of the one world in which we live. Also awesome.

While we’re on the subject of things not the same, equity and equality are also not the same. Equality is about everyone getting the same thing (there’s that uniformity again), but it presumes that everyone starts from the same place and shares the same circumstances. And we don’t. We just don’t. And that’s not just about stuff, it’s about opportunity. We have systematically ensured that some get greater opportunity than others. That needs to stop.

Equity means everyone gets what they need. It’s about fairness and justice. It’s about acknowledging difference, uniqueness and individuality with respect and ensuring that everyone has what they need to be healthy and whole. It means the freedom to be who and how we are without fear.

The apostle Paul, writing to people in Corinth where he’d previously helped to establish a church, reminds them of that in a particular, down to earth way. They’re having some difficulty building community amongst the very different people, socially and culturally, that live there. “We are all part of one body,” Paul says, but uniquely who we are. Just as there are different parts of the body, we are all different, but connected. Furthermore, everyone is needed and important, just for who they are, with their own uniqueness. In fact, the very limbs and organs that society and culture has told us to think are of lesser value should be thought of as greater. Think for a moment how we use certain body parts to describe people and how some of them are positive and others are so very negative. But, says Paul, we need all the parts to be whole. And when any one part is hurting, we all hurt and we all need to be part of the healing.

That isn't what we do, though, is it?  Paul's metaphor, while philosophically right and true for wholeness, wasn't the practice even in his day. And the image isn't original to Paul, it was already in use as a way to describe a city or town. There it was used as a means to assign not only gifts and abilities but status as well. Those that did the work that made them feet and hands did not have the same status as those who did the thinking, for example. While everyone was necessary to the whole, your status was determined by the value of your ability to the whole.

But Paul's use of the body metaphor isn't about the practical application of a person's gifts, it's about the person themselves. The body that Paul describes reflects the love of Jesus for everyone, no matter who they are, what they do, what they think or know or feel or even what they believe. In this body, every member is a part of the whole simply by "being" in the first place. In this body, the strong care for the weak, the wise care for the foolish, the big care for the small, we care for each other with equity. And everyone respects everyone for who they are.

A sense of ”common-unity," the embrace of diversity and an equitable place for all is the very heart of community. The people of Corinth struggled with it. We must struggle with it, too, and be better.

What's In The Words

In the last few verses of the gospel of Matthew, the resurrected Jesus sends the disciples out into the world.  “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

As the concluding words to the story of Jesus’ time with the disciples, I read that as a commission to go and do as Jesus taught, to go and share the good news and baptize people into this understanding of how God is present in the world.

It feels to me like Matthew’s version of the moment in John’s gospel when Jesus says “love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35). Then he describes The Way which will become the very heart of how the earliest followers lived. Or later in John when the resurrected Jesus says to Peter “feed my sheep.” Or even like in Luke when he commissions them as witnesses to all nations, witnesses of Jesus life and love. Even Mark has a commissioning, though most scholars feel it was added later, perhaps even to sync it up with the others.

Point is, they all felt it was important for Jesus to tell them to go and do what he’d been doing, to share what they’d experienced with him and help people find their way to the divine spirit of love that’s in all of us and live it with each other. That’s their witness, that’s The Way.

I’m feeling the weight of the words in Matthew, though: authority, make disciples, obey, commanded. I’m wondering at how we’ve often done missionary work in the past, when our behaviour has been anything but the love that Jesus intended us to share. We’ve certainly exercised authority, commanded and taught to obey, but so often not in the context of “love your neighbour as yourself” (Matt. 22:39). More often to make others simply be more like us.

But Jesus is really only asking them to do what he’s been doing: healing brokenness and restoring life, showing people how to live out the divine spirit that’s in all of us. Jesus’ teaching isn’t just words, it isn’t just behaviour, it’s a way of living from the heart. And it doesn’t involve authority or power over people and it certainly doesn’t mean exercising that power to make people be like us. Jesus doesn’t ask us to love people into being anything more than more truly their divine and human selves. This is The Way.

 When we love like that we not only empower others, we further empower ourselves with the diversity of all we learn, and we create community together. Disciples are people: made by love, not command.

Spirit In, Spirit Out

It’s Pentecost this week, one of the biggest, flashiest festivals in the church year. Certainly in the top three, anyway. Many churches even celebrate it as the church’s birthday. And why not, it’s a big, flashy story that lends itself well to excitement and we could use some of that in church.

In the Bible, the Book of the Acts of the Apostles records the work of the earliest followers of Jesus in the days after he’s gone. It’s about the very beginnings of what would become “the church.” The first chapter is about Jesus’ physical departure and the second about this experience we call Pentecost. (The name’s not so flashy, though, it just means “fiftieth” because it’s fifty days after Easter).

Jesus’ closest followers were together in Jerusalem, waiting for the Spirit to come as Jesus’ promised, and suddenly there’s a rush of wind and tongues of flame appear over each of their heads. These were signs of the Spirit’s presence. Then they were inspired to speak of “God’s deeds of power,” but they were inspired to speak in other languages, the native languages of many of the people around them who were from other countries. Some people didn’t understand and thought they were drunk, but Peter speaks to them and says, no, this is the fulfilment of the words of the prophet Joel that “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.”

Cool.

You can see how many ways we could engage this story with those dramatic elements. Special effects, lighting, action, all that talking in other languages must have sounded crazy - there’s so much going on, so much excitement. 

Okay, but let’s not lose sight of what really happened here.

We traditionally read this story as the Spirit descended or came upon them, as if it were some outside force doing something to them. Sure, but the reason that could happen was that they had learned from Jesus that the Divine Spirit was already in them, as it is in all of us. We’ve become disconnected, distant from God. But when we live as Jesus - that’s “The Way” John’s gospel talks about - we reconnect to the Spirit in us and are open to finding it in the world around us. That’s what’s happening here. It’s not happening to them, but with them. As it can with all of us.

The rush of wind is what Hebrew scripture called “ruach,” literally the breath of God, the breath that is in all living things. The tongues of fire are a sign of the connection made, engaging the Spirit in and around them. 

And the speaking in different languages? I think that’s a sign of connections being made with the spirits of those who were open to hearing what the disciples had to say, open to hearing in their own individual way. And that isn’t just a reminder that we should be inspired to communicate in a way that people will understand, that people can engage. There’s something before that.

The very first thing the Spirit inspires is the acknowledgement of the diversity of all people and the willingness to engage that diversity in a way that touches the heart of each person. That’s why the “native language of each.” It’s a connection to home, to their deepest connection to the earth and to God. It feels like home.

The very first thing the Spirit inspired, to lay the foundation for “church,” was to acknowledge, engage and affirm that diversity of all people. Is your spirit open to hearing that?

Thoughts About Thoughts And Prayers

Can we talk about prayer for a moment?

Everyone prays. Odd place to start, I know, but hear me out. Everyone prays.

We made prayer a religious thing, a ritual part of the structure around how we try to know God. The word itself can be traced back to ancient times from a word meaning to ask or entreat. And that’s pretty much how we’ve tended to see it.

Sometimes prayers offer thanks, they do, but I often think we’re being thankful for what we received because we have it. In other words, it was either needed or wanted but probably expected. How often do we pray with thanks simply to be?

I don’t want to take that tangent just now, though. The thing about prayer being a ritual, particularly a religious one, is that we tend to focus on “are we doing it the right way,” especially the words. Are we using the right ones? No disrespect, but it doesn’t help that, when someone asked Jesus how we should pray, his response was, well, words. Words we literally cast in stone as The Lord’s Prayer (Matt.6 and Luke 11).

Sure, in Matthew he says something about not being showy about it and in Luke he says we should persevere in prayer, but words matter to people, and finding the right words is often the hardest part of prayer for most people.

Not just words, though, sometimes people pray with images or more artistic ways of expressing their thoughts. There’s even something called Praying with Colour, which is essentially doodling while your mind just wanders around the thoughts of what or who you’re praying about. That might sound a little silly to some, but we’re actually getting somewhere with that because we’re letting go of the focus on words and images and focusing instead on our thoughts.

That brings me to “thoughts and prayers,” an expression that’s either used way too much or not nearly enough, depending on what you mean by it. First of all, still just words. Unless it’s backed up by action, it’s still just words. That action begins with exactly what it says, thinking about them/it and praying them/it. It could then become more concrete action around how one could help and offer more practical support. All prayer should lead to action, whether specific to a thought or prayer, or more generally in how we live our lives.

Second, “thoughts and prayers” has two very opposing uses. It’s what makes it tricky to say. At worst, it’s an expression used to avoid doing anything at all. Maybe I’m being overly cynical, but it does seem to be something to say in order to not respond in any real meaningful way. For example, one could site politicians and leaders using it after something horrific happens, knowing full well that they’re aren’t going to do anything about it.

But at its best it’s an attempt to reach out and connect without knowing exactly how. Maybe we don’t know what words to say, if there even are words to say. Maybe we don’t know how to reach out or what to offer or how to support and care. But we’re trying to make a connection because we have empathy and compassion. We love. 

I think prayer is really about our own spirit trying to make a connection with the spirit that’s in all living things. That’s what we may know as God,  or a variety of spiritual things depending on our faith tradition, or we may simply know as the spirit of life or some other way of describing that energy that is in all living things.

That’s why everyone prays. It doesn’t matter how you know God, if at all. And words aren’t important. What is important is making a connection, one spirit with another or many together. It’s hearts offering a swell of love and compassion that reinforces spirit and inspires action. Prayer works.

Not So Religious?

I think religion can be good and bad. I suppose, as a minister of religion, I should be defending religion and emphasizing its good qualities, but I think now is a really good time to acknowledge that it isn’t always good and why.

I think religion is the structure that we humans put on our relationship with God and with spiritual things. We create it, or are inspired to create it, so that it can help us understand, relate and organize the things we believe so that we can understand them better and grow in our humanity.

Ideally, of course. Being human-made, it can be flawed and fallible. It can also be used to judge, manipulate and control and a host of other bad things. And it has been. And not just historically. I think we’re experiencing it right now.

I think the first followers of Jesus were religious people who suddenly found themselves freed of the devotion and dedication - and demands - of their religion by someone who was more interested in the divine spirit than the human practices that seemed oddly disconnected from it. That’s not to say that Jesus and his followers weren’t devout Jews, I just think they started to see the value of living love than behaving a prescribed way.

As a result, they were more attached to following The Way of Jesus than the way the religious authorities demanded they serve the temple and society.

We need more of that. Right now.

However you understand God, by whatever name, if you believe love is the way, that grace, compassion, understanding and peace are The Way, we need more of that, right now. That’s what Jesus was all about.

There’s a story in the bible about Paul, who became a follower of Jesus after persecuting Jesus’ followers, speaking in Athens at the Areopagus, the Greek high court (Acts 17:22-31).  He’s been in town a few days, waiting for others to join him, and he sees the many idols and the temples built for the many Greek gods. He’s also noticed that there is an altar set aside for “the unknown god.” So he acknowledges “how extremely religious” they are and tells them that in their unknown god - unknown to them - he sees the one God who created, and is in, all things, the God who “does not live in shrines built by human hands,” but in the world.

This is where I’m not so religious. I don’t think Paul meant to be sarcastic, I think he truly meant to compliment the Athenians. But there must be more than just buildings and statues, real and metaphorical. Religion can’t be just about structure, unchanging and cast in stone. It can’t just be about process and organization. It can’t be about “sameness,” of culture, thought or idea. It can’t be contained. Where’s the spirit in that? The spirit is alive. The spirit is energy and power, connectedness and relationship, life in all its fullness.

Religion is at its most meaningful when it’s full of both a spirit that enlivens and a framework that builds community, reinforcing our connectedness to each other and all of creation. It shares power and builds everyone up with equity. If we are open to the spirit in how we create community, then surely we can be open to how the spirit expresses itself in each of us and what we bring to that community.

Perhaps some old structures need to be let go. Perhaps some new ones, too. Perhaps old and new shouldn’t be as important as appropriate.