A Little Nudge From the Spirit

Sometimes, I feel the need to talk about something. Sometimes it’s to talk about something again, perhaps, and again. It just seems like I’m getting a little nudge, a little push, a little voice that says “it’s time to say something about that.” You’ve probably felt that, heard that little voice.

I think that’s the spirit in me trying to get out. I think the divine spirit is present in all creation, in you and me and all living things. Jesus show us that in his life and teaching. Many others have, too, whether they were followers of Jesus or used other language or other traditions. That spirit is in us, it inspires us, it connects us, it gives us life, and yet we often struggle to find it in ourselves, to listen to it, to let it out and, most importantly, connect with the spirit in others.

I think that’s what the story of Pentecost is really all about. The story is that, after Jesus has left them for the last time, his disciples felt the spirit, symbolized in a rushing wind and tongues of fire, and began to speak to the diverse crowd around them in their own languages, telling them about God and Jesus (Acts 2:1-21). Perhaps we focus on the wind and fire because it’s energy and enthusiasm, but the key part of the story, I think, is that the spirit moved the disciples to communicate in a way that each person, unique and individual, could understand. And not just understand, but as if they were hearing it in the language of their home, the place of their birth, the place they knew they belonged. It’s as if the spirit didn’t just tolerate difference, but embraced it, engaged it, and found a way to connect with it.

Hmm. Tolerance. Just the other day, someone, in a meeting I was at, brought up tolerance. I think it was in the context of saying that our church is very tolerant, perhaps too tolerant, but to be honest, I’m not really sure. Soon as somebody uses the words tolerance and church in the same sentence, I have trouble listening. I’m not very tolerant, I guess. That’s what the Spirit’s moving me to talk about.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the compliment - yes, it’s a compliment - and I know it was intended to be positive. But I don’t think Jesus taught tolerance. Ever. I think being tolerant implies that there’s something to be tolerant of and, especially when it comes to people, Jesus never showed, suggested or asked for tolerance. Jesus only ever asked for love.

Radical, engaging, challenging, spirit-led love. Jesus didn’t tolerate anyone for being different, he engaged them, communicated with them and learned about them, connecting to them, building a relationship and building community with them. There was nothing to tolerate, only love. That’s not easy, it can be challenging and not always successful or satisfying. That didn’t stop Jesus, though, and it shouldn’t stop us.

I wonder if, when we approach people with tolerance, it isn’t giving us an out, a way of recognizing that they’re different but keeping them at a safe distance. If we can acknowledge them and put up with them, we don’t need to engage them. We can feel good about the fact that we’ve noticed and let them have their own space, but not welcomed them into ours or tried to relate to them and learn more about them. Worse, we might welcome them, but with the expectation that they’ll be “just like us.”

That’s not the story of Pentecost. I think that’s a story of the spirit inspiring love, inspiring connection that recognizes diversity and uniqueness and embraces it. Similarly, Paul later wrote to the Corinthians about how we each have our own gifts, unique, distinct and different gifts, but they are all inspired by the same Spirit. In the Spirit, we are one body, Paul says, each of us a different part, but still part of one body (1 Corinthians 12). Not only do we need all the parts, we need them to work together.

Whether it’s your own body, the body which is your faith community, your town, your family, your home, your team, your work, your world, don’t treat it like there’s something to tolerate. Let the spirit move you to love.

We Are One

Ut omnes unum sint.

This latin phrase has been on the United Church of Canada crest since it was officially adopted in 1944, 19 years after the church was formed by a union of Methodist, Congregationalist and Presbyterian churches in 1925. I don’t know if it was top of everyone’s mind from the beginning, but the text it comes from was read at the inaugural service, June 10, 1925.

If you’re not up on your latin, it’s a quote from the Gospel of John, chapter 17, verse 21: “that all may be one.” An ideal expression of what it means to be united and uniting.

But I imagine (at least, I hope this was the case) that there might have been some discussion around it. I wasn’t there, but surely someone must have pointed out that, taken out of context, “that all may be one” might easily be misconstrued as implying uniformity, not unity. Those are two very different things and the United Church has never been about uniformity. Another expression for which the church is known is “unity in diversity.” That’s the difference. Unity acknowledges the diversity and uniqueness of everyone and invites inclusivity, seeking the most meaningful of common ground, that we are all children of God, one in spirit. 

I’m not suggesting that the United Church has cornered the market on inclusivity. In fact, I forever wish it were the norm and not something special. After all, I think that’s what Jesus was on about when he said it. When he lived it.

The context of that phrase is Jesus praying for his followers on the night that he was arrested. John tells a very different Last Supper story than the other gospels. At the end of the meal, Jesus talks to the disciples at length, a speech called The Farewell Discourse. I think it would have been more of a conversation than a speech, but the highlights are some pretty important and meaningful things and he offers the disciples affirmation, support and the challenge of living Jesus into the world after he’s gone. At the end of it, he prays.

He asks God to support and care for his disciples who he now sends into the world. And then he says “I ask not only on behalf of these but also on behalf of those who believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” Just as he’s taught his closest followers that the divine spirit of God is in him and he’s shown them it’s in them as well, he knows that they will share that with others. 

That’s the “one-ness,” that Jesus has shown us the spirit of God is in him and he has shown the disciples that it’s in them and they will show others that is in them as well. In other words, Jesus prays not just for his followers, but those who follow them and come to know the divine spirit of God through them. And their followers. And their followers. 

They are all unique individuals. Paul will later share this with the people in Corinth by saying there are many gifts, but one spirit and that there is one body and we are all unique members of it. Our diversity isn’t just a gift, it’s an incredible strength to be embraced, engaged and celebrated.

That’s how all may be one. One Spirit which is inclusive of the great diversity of all creation and the connectedness of “all my relations.” One Spirit which is love.

Where Are You Going?

Where are you going? I don’t mean physically, right this minute, or your summer vacation plans or what store, place or event you might be attending. I mean do you know where your life’s going?

I’m not always sure, myself. I think we can plan the next day or week, even months ahead, even have “life goals” and things we want to experience, a “bucket list” maybe, or a career path. But the journey to that destination may not be the straight path we were hoping for, and destinations can change. We live in a creation that’s constantly creating, a universe of variables, and change is happening in every moment.

When I was fifteen years old Anglican boy, I knew I wanted to be an Anglican priest. This month, I’ll have been an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada for only fifteen years. The journey’s been long, with many twists and turns, and the destination wasn’t what I thought. And yet, it is, in a way, and the journey has been full of ministry in many different forms.

On June 10th, the United Church of Canada will celebrate 100 years since Canadian Methodists, Congregationalists, two-thirds of Presbyterians and a small group of Union Churches (they’d got tired of waiting for everything to be settled and just went ahead and did it themselves) got together in a hockey arena (how Canadian is that?) for the first service of the new church. The church of 2025 may not be exactly what they envisioned in 1925, but I bet they’d see how we got here and recognize the threads that have united us from the beginning. The journey’s been long, with many twists and turns. There’s lots of good to celebrate and many times we can only celebrate in terms of what we can learn from failures, flaws, hurts and mistakes.

Maybe you’re not experiencing anniversaries or milestones right now in your journey, but, given the world of today, I imagine there’s more than a few people wondering, even with some anxiety or fear: here we are, where are we going now?

I think that’s the scene in John’s gospel when the disciples are all gathered around Jesus for the Passover meal that last night before he was arrested. This isn’t the same story as the other gospels. After supper, Jesus tells them that where he’s now going, they cannot go. He tells them they should love each other as he has showed them to love. That’s how people will know you’re of me, he says. He reminds them again that God is in him, just as he is in them - and us, and all who love him and believe. He has shown them the way, a way that is true and life-giving. Now, it’s time for him to go.

But he doesn’t just drop that and leave. He tells them he’ll always be with them in a different form. He offers them words of comfort and inspiration and a promise of support: when I’m gone, Jesus says, the Holy Spirit will come and be with you and will teach you and lead you and remind you of all that I taught you. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid,” he says.

That Spirit has been from the beginning. It’s the Spirit of creation and inspiration, it’s the Spirit that Jesus shows us is in us, just as it is in him and all living things, it’s the Spirit of love and life, it’s the Spirit of God-with-us. It’s the Spirit that says don’t be afraid, you’re not alone. Step boldly into tomorrow.

Who I Am

I’ll be honest. I struggle sometimes with being called a christian.

I suppose it could be the struggle of any label for any community. Even as the word “diversity” is taking a bit of a beating these days, the fact is that we are, on so many levels, diverse. Everyone is unique and different and, even when we are united in our beliefs, ideology, culture or any other arbitrary metric, or we simply conform, labels never fully describe any community.

Sure.

That being said, christian carries a lot of baggage. That baggage includes a history of hurt, abuse and just evil behaviour that is the complete antithesis of Christ. Jesus’ heart has been broken so many times. And still is.

That baggage also includes great acts of kindness and grace, care for the sick, the poor and the homeless, and courageous acts of resistance to injustice, even standing for the rights of all human beings and the creation in which we live. Jesus’ heart must be bursting with joy so many times. And still is.

Hmm. So it’s tricky. How will we know what kind of christian we are?

“Love one another,” Jesus says. “Just as I showed you how to love, so you should love each other. That’s how people will know that you are from me.” (John 13:34-35)

These aren’t warm, fuzzy words of niceness and comfort, they’re a challenge to change the way we live. Jesus’ life shows us what we’re capable of: love. I know the words aren’t there in the stories, but I imagine Jesus frequently telling the disciples, and anyone who would listen, “if I can do it, so can you.” The same divine spirit and earthy humanity that’s in Jesus is in all of us - Jesus was trying to show us how to reconnect with that spirit, with the energy of the earth and each other. That’s the point: we are capable of love, just like Jesus.

Jesus never said we should make people behave a certain way (our way), Jesus never said that we should control people or tolerate them. He said we should love them, just as he loved us. If a so-called “belief” hurts people, denies them basic human rights, dignity and respect or disempowers them, it’s not Jesus and it’s not the spirit of God and it’s not love. When Jesus loved, he challenged those things. He lived love and challenged hate, he lived love and treated all with dignity and respect, he lived love and brought healing to brokenness, he lived love and empowered people to live true to their hearts, trusting that they would come to see the good there.

Maybe our first mistake - our original sin, if you like - was to tie “christian” to traditions and flawed interpretations that didn’t grow with knowledge and understanding, to religion,  rather than Jesus, to what we made of Jesus rather than Jesus’ own story. The Jesus who loved. And loved and loved.

We make mistakes. God knows, and Jesus never demanded perfection. He only offered more encouragement and more love. Look who Jesus chose to be his closest companions. He didn’t choose “holy” men or women. He chose ordinary people, flawed and weak people who made mistakes. Very human mistakes.

Let people know who you are. Love like Jesus.

That's How You Know

Whose voice should you listen to?

It’s not my place to tell you. It’s not really anyone’s: you should discern that for yourself.

I have a few thoughts, though, that might help.

Please don’t just hear the loudest voice and go with that. There’s a lot of shouting going on right now, much of it in anger with a side of hate, so please, take a moment and listen. Listen for the quiet, calm voices, too. They’re much harder to hear and, quite frankly, we’re not always as good at listening as we are at shouting out an opinion.

Bishop William McGrattan, President of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops has described the new Pope, Leo XIV, as “a person who listens first before speaking.” Be like the Pope.

That doesn’t mean voices are more trustworthy or true just because they’re quieter. We need to be discerning and - this is super important - curious. Listen to people’s stories, ask questions, be discerning and find out what’s true. Get to know them. Bishop McGrattan described the Pope that way on the basis of meeting him numerous times in a setting where that skill would be critical.

That curious and discerning part is so important. 

In John’s Gospel, there’s a scene in the temple when Jesus describes himself as a shepherd, a shepherd who cares for his sheep and protects them and the sheep know his voice. He gets into an argument with a group of people in the temple who demand to know if he’s the Messiah. “If you’re the messiah, tell us plainly,” they say. Jesus replies “I have, but you don’t hear me. My sheep hear me because they know my voice.”

That just seems to infuriate them more and they’re tempted to stone him. But I think Jesus’ point is simply this: the people who “know” his voice haven’t just listened, they’ve seen what he’s done. They’ve been discerning about his words, seen that he’s living them, and found the love, kindness, compassion and grace in his actions matches his words. They’ve seen him engage people and build relationships, recognized the authenticity of his teaching and found it to be true. 

Maybe if the crowd put their stones down, they could too.

But see, here’s another thing.  Just like those questioning Jesus in the story, we so often listen to react and reply more than to learn and grow. They were ready to stone Jesus, probably even before he finished speaking, because he answered their question and they didn’t like the answer. It was contrary to everything they already knew and were conditioned to believe. It challenged them and disturbed them in ways that moved them to reject it without consideration.

So stop clenching that rock so hard, relax and open your heart and mind, Jesus might say to us. Open your eyes as well as your ears, experience what I’m doing, be discerning. Get to know me better.

Could we all try that?

The Grace of Space

For the longest time, one of my favourite bible stories has been the one we traditionally call “The Conversion of Paul.” I have a bit of an issue with the name, but first, the story.

If you’re not familiar, it appears in the Book of Acts, chapter 9. The earliest followers of Jesus are in trouble with the Jewish authorities - there’s “a severe persecution” of them, according to the author of Acts - and Saul of Tarsus has been rooting them out and arresting them. On his way to Damascus, looking for “any who belonged to the Way,” Saul experiences a bright light around him and hear’s the voice of Jesus ask why he’s persecuting him. He’s blinded for three days, after which he receives a visit from a disciple, Ananias, who has a vision of Jesus and is sent so that Saul “may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” It’s a few more chapters before we hear him called Paul, but this is where his new journey begins.

I’ve simplified the story a lot, but I think we do have a tendency to reduce it even further. Which is where the Saul/Paul thing comes in. I grew up with this being a “Saul bad, Paul good” story, made that way by a moment with Jesus. Saul, the villain, sees the light and instantly becomes a Saint. Literally.

But Paul is just the Romanized version of the Jewish name Saul. In the Jewish community, he would have been Saul, but travelling around the Roman-controlled Mediterranean, especially in gentile communities, he would have been called Paul. It’s the same guy. More or less, Or more. I’ll come back to that.

The name thing helps bolster the divide between the villainous Saul and the righteous Paul. Except, from a different perspective, Saul isn’t a villain. He’s a devout Jew who passionately - okay, maybe too passionately, even zealously - stands up for his traditions and faith. When the Jewish authorities perceive the followers of Jesus as a threat to their own way, they want to root them out and end it. So they send Saul to do that. He let that zealousness for law and tradition turn to hate, perhaps, and his own faith turned away from love in his actions, but in his heart, I think Saul thought he was doing what was right to protect what he believed.

Here’s the thing for me. I’ve liked the story because, knowing it that black and white, good and bad way, I always figured that, if Jesus could do that with someone like Saul, then he shouldn’t have any trouble with me. I’m no Paul, and I’ll have no ministry to rival his, but I figured Jesus could easily make me more well, godly, and make me a better person and a better representative of The Way.

That’s not what happens in the story, though. I don’t think Jesus makes Saul anything.

I think Jesus offers Saul grace. Not just the grace of forgiveness, but the grace of space: time, even just a few days, in which to choose a different road. In his truest heart, Saul was a child of God, made in love, in the image of God. Jesus offered him grace to see that he was blinded by his devotion to religion, and the space to choose to open his eyes to love. Grace that allowed Saul to choose to be more.

Saul was already filled with the Spirit. Now it was time to let it out in love. We are, too, and it’s not up to Jesus - or any other religious figure or religion to make us. We need to participate. We need to realize that God offers us the grace to choose.

Laughing With God

You can have a sense of humour in church. Sometimes, you have to. Really.

There’s even a long-standing tradition of the Sunday after Easter being Holy Humour Sunday. In the early days of the church, the week after Easter was observed as a time of joy and laughter with parties and carnivals, full of practical jokes and fun, to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. They called it Bright Week, and the custom came from the idea of some early church theologians that God played a joke on the devil by raising Jesus from the dead. Easter was God’s supreme joke played on death - they called it the risus paschalis in latin: “the Easter laugh.”

Maybe early church theologians were trying to find a new path to joy. Perhaps we need that, too.

Maybe it can seem like church has no sense of humour because people often find themselves there searching for something that seems far removed from joy. We could be looking for comfort in our grief, strength when we’re struggling, affirmation when we feel marginalized and alone. 

Maybe it just seems like church has no sense of humour sometimes because we're looking at the institution and not the people. Just like people sometimes seem to think they know what church is all about even though they've never been. Church has a lot of baggage, both for itself and for those that have no real experience of it.

Maybe we're confusing a sense of humour - the universal giving of  joy, laughter and light-heartedness - with what we, personally, have judged to be funny. Or not. Then we might judge it to be dismissive, inappropriate and disrespectful.

It's funny, really, that we're often just as judgemental about how we communicate the message of God's love as we are about how people are living it out. And I don’t mean funny in a humorous way.

The first Easter Day wasn’t full of joyful alleluias, it was full of fear and doubt, maybe some wonder, at best. I think that’s why the author of John’s gospel thought it was so important to make an example of Thomas. Thomas, the story goes, doubted Jesus was alive when the others told him because he hadn’t been there to see it. Jesus later appears to him as well (and many others) but reminds us all that “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Sure. But what if Thomas already believed. That’s why he wasn’t there, he was out telling everyone about Jesus, just like Jesus told them to. He was already making sure Jesus was alive. What if he thought the others were pranking him and he made fun of their fear and their lack of belief because they were hiding rather than boldly sharing the story of Jesus with others. That could be a funny story for Bright Week, couldn’t it?

Later, on Pentecost the story goes, everyone around the disciples heard them speaking in their own languages. Isn't that really what we're seeking, a way to communicate the message that speaks to people in a way that they find most understandable, relevant and meaningful?

Maybe the road to true joy in our faith needs laughter as much as tears. “A good God-themed joke,” to quote singer Regina Spektor (in “Laughing With”), can bring comfort as well as joy, relief to tension and anxiety, maybe even a little more openness to faith in a heart full of doubt. After all, real faith isn't about believing without question, it's about believing enough to question more, to seek deeper truth and find deeper love.

Signs of Life

We’re surrounded by symbols. Everything from emojis to icons, traffic signs, logos and flags. Good ones can convey a very specific meaning. Sometimes, like the words they may be replacing, they might come to have alternate meanings or come to represent a legacy that we may or may not wish to remember.

The church is full of symbols. Lots of them have specific meanings, some are even particular to a certain church, denomination or faith. Some have very personal meanings, some more universal understanding. Some, all of the above.

Our church has a rainbow sidewalk. It also has doves here and there, hearts, fish, angels, a turtle, candles, handprints, stones, pine cones, sheep and a variety of other symbols, all of which have their own meaning. Sometimes they can mean much more than just one thing.

And a cross.

Universally recognized and deeply personally held, the cross has been the primary symbol of Christianity since the second century. It has come to be understood by Christians as representing God’s act of love in the sacrifice of Jesus in death and the victory of Christ over death in his resurrection.

I guess. It does seem to carry a lot of baggage, and struggle with its image a lot.

For me, every Easter I wonder a little about the symbol of my faith being an instrument of a very torturous, agonizing death at the hands of a ruthless oppressor. That’s what it was, in Jesus’ day, a very public, very painful means by which an empire struck fear into the hearts of those it had conquered. The story of Good Friday is brutality, pain and death and there can be no Easter resurrection story without it.

I understand that may be the very thing that redeems it as a symbol, but I also believe that Jesus was all about life and I wonder if there aren’t better symbols for that. While some may choose to focus on the atoning sacrifice and the defeat of death, I find what brings me closer to God is how Jesus shows us life, even before the new life of resurrection. For me, that resurrection moment just affirms that the same divine spirit alive in Jesus is alive in me. And you. And everyone. That’s how Jesus is alive and how we are, too.

So maybe, at Easter, we might also consider some other symbols of our faith. Symbols that might remind us that Jesus’ life itself is an example of living love the way that God wants us to live - live, not die - and that divine love is in all of us. Shouldn’t the symbol of Easter, for example, be the empty tomb, not the instrument of Jesus’ death?  How about the rising sun of Easter morning or the spring flowers of the garden around the tomb?  How about the butterfly who’s new life comes from the shadow of the cocoon? Why not eggs, even chocolate ones, and a lively, rambunctious bunny?

Those symbols are all around us in God’s creation, reminders of God’s love in our every day. Human hands made the cross. Perhaps they should let it go and embrace the light of a new day.