Getting down to business

It might not seem right that the gospel story for the last Sunday in June should be about getting down to business.

The summer’s here and many people, especially children, will be looking for some holidays or at least some relaxation and enjoyment of the summer weather.  That’s our mindset: you work, you play.  And here’s a little story from Luke that begins “when the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51).  I think that’s Bible-speak for “I don’t have much time left, so let’s get some work done.”

And, certainly, lots is going to happen.  But first, four little vignettes will set the context for what kind of business this is - and it’s not how we understand business.

First, Jesus’ sends people ahead to make things ready, but the Samaritans who live in the next village aren’t really interested because he was headed to Jerusalem.  When the disciples want to punish them, Jesus rebukes them and moves on.  I think this isn’t about the whole Jews and Samaritans hate each other thing (see the Parable of the Good Samaritan later in Luke), but rather one of the reasons why: Samaritans believed that God should be worshipped at Mount Gerizim, not Jerusalem.  I also think that this is Jesus saying “my business isn’t about punishment, it’s about love.  And, besides, they come to God their way.  That doesn’t make them bad.”

In the verses before “he set his face to go to Jerusalem,” we heard John complaining of someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name who wasn’t one of their group.  Jesus tells him not to stop him because “whoever is not against you is for you.”  Here he is again reminding his followers - and us - that doing good things isn’t about following the same rules or belonging to the same group.  What it’s about is doing good things and loving all, that’s the business at hand.

They move on and meet someone on the road who claims they will follow Jesus wherever he goes.  Jesus replies that he has no place to go to, “nowhere to lay his head.”  Even though he knows his days are limited, I don’t think Jesus sees the cross as a destination.  I think he wants this man - and us - to know that the journey is important, that each moment of the journey is important and we live into each moment.  Don’t focus on the past, Jesus might say, or the future, but this moment, that’s the business at hand.

As they move on, Jesus calls to another to follow, but this person wants to bury their father first.  “Let the dead bury their own dead,” says Jesus, “but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”  That seems unduly callous and not very loving at all, Jesus.  And more than a little incongruous with the Jesus that was filled with compassion for the widowed mother who’d now lost her son, just a couple of chapters ago (Luke 7).  Remember, just outside of Nain?  Jesus restores the man to life, and thereby his mother, too.  And then there’s raising Jairus’ daughter from death (Luke 8).  Why would Jesus respond this way now?

Perhaps Jesus sees that this isn’t a moment for compassion or mourning or death and it’s not about all the complicated rules and rituals around first century Hebrew burials.  It’s a moment for proclaiming what the kingdom of God is all about: life.  This is the journey Jesus is on.  Following Jesus on the journey to new life, that’s the business at hand.

A final vignette is a man who says he will follow, but he wants to say goodbye to his family first.  That seems reasonable, but Jesus replies that you don’t go forward while looking back.  I don’t think Jesus wants the man to abandon his family or his former life, nor do I think that he wants him to forget them.  I think it’s about procrastination and hesitation and, for Jesus, the time is now.  Remembering the past and learning from the past is one thing, but a commitment to the past is not a way forward.  And the way is forward and Jesus is the way, that’s the business at hand.

Jesus is about the business of life.  That’s a journey where every moment counts, where every moment is about living.  It’s a life not confined by a set of rules, but open by love.  It’s full of work and play, labour and rest, because every moment is an opportunity for good, for healing and wholeness.  Jesus calls us to follow on this journey, that’s the business at hand.

Everyone behaving badly

Who’s telling what and why they’re telling it should be a huge consideration in how we hear or read anything, don’t you think?  And not just in politics.

“We live in story,” says Eugene Peterson (the theologian and pastor who wrote the contemporary paraphrase of the bible called The Message).  Many others have made the same observation, that life is a narrative, and the manner in which we tell it, in words and art, is a reflection of who we are, as is the manner in which we hear it.  That might mean that we subconsciously (or even consciously) imbue a story with certain elements that reflect who we are, where we come from and what we want to achieve, generally.  It might also mean that we intentionally interpret a story, in our telling or hearing, with a certain agenda or within a closed framework in order to make a certain point or reinforce a certain thought or ideal.

I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of how or who in news media or social media might distort or manipulate a story to make a point.  Besides, historically, religions are often experts at this.  I just think we should be more thoughtful and discerning about it.  Please.

That’s on my mind because there’s a story of Jesus’ ministry often referred to as “The Anointing of Jesus.”  Jesus is at someone’s home for dinner which is interrupted by a woman who anoints Jesus with expensive oil.  The story appears in all four gospels.  Sort of.

 There’s a bit of an argument that it may be a single event they’ve all recorded or it might be two separate events.  There’s lots of scholarship around similarities and differences between the accounts, but I think that description, “Jesus is at someone’s home for dinner which is interrupted by a woman who anoints Jesus with expensive oil,” is the common thread for four completely unique and different stories.  I’d like to consider the account in Luke for a minute, a moment in Jesus ministry with a particular emphasis on forgiveness.  At least, according to Luke.  And me.

The story’s in Luke 7:36-50.  Jesus has been invited to dinner at the home of a Pharisee named Simon.  I’m not really sure what to make of Simon, because it’s not clear to me whether he’s open minded and curious to hear more from Jesus or if he’s already decided and out to make him look bad.  I’m condensing some details, but it seems that Simon and Jesus aren’t alone at dinner, either, there’s others, but no real indication of who they are.  They seem like a bit of a Greek chorus that chimes in late in the story.

A “sinful” woman comes in and weeps on Jesus feet, drying them with her hair and then she puts ointment on them (there’s the anointing part).  Simon seems to be less than impressed that Jesus allows it, although one might wonder how she got into the house in the first place.  Jesus tells Simon a story about two debtors who owed a creditor money, one a large amount the other small.  The creditor forgives both debts and Jesus asks which one is happiest.  Simon correctly answers the one with the larger debt and Jesus goes on to point out the woman’s outrageous and extravagant act as a response to the forgiveness of her many sins.  He goes on to critique the Pharisee as a host, who offered him none of the traditional signs of hospitality, while all of them were offered by the woman.  She loves greatly in response to forgiveness, the Pharisee is unaware of his need for forgiveness and offers nothing.  This is when the chorus chimes in with “who is this who even forgives sins?”

Well.  It’s Jesus, that’s who, and, if we’re reading through Luke’s stories of Jesus, we should by now be getting that point.  More importantly, as we hear the story today, we should also be wondering “why aren’t YOU Jesus?”  Or me, or anyone else who claims to be a follower of Jesus.

Look, it’s pretty easy to point out that, as Luke tells this story, there’s no one who isn’t behaving badly from someone’s perspective.  The Pharisee, we learn, has not been the host that he should have been.  The woman is rudely interrupting the Pharisee’s dinner and behaving in a manner that would have been, at the very least, unseemly.  And Jesus, even Jesus, could be seen as behaving inappropriately.  According to convention in his day, he should not have allowed the woman to do what she did, nor should he have chastised his host for his behaviour.

But isn’t that the point?  Everyone is behaving badly from someone’s perspective.  What we need to discern is who’s behaviour is right and true.  We might also wonder which of these characters we may be at times in our lives.  The woman who realizes her sinfulness, welcomes forgiveness, celebrates it extravagantly and is saved by faith?  Jesus, who forgives and forgives all?  The Pharisee who judges others, unaware of his own need, but who - and this is critical - we don’t know if he dismisses Jesus and the woman or if he learns what Jesus teaches?  Who are you?

Life Giving

Jesus isn't the only figure in the Bible to be resurrected.  Three other resurrection stories, connected to Elijah and Elisha, appear in Hebrew scripture and, in Christian scripture, one person's raised by Peter, one by Paul and three by Jesus, as well as the "many saints who ... came out of the tombs after his resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people" (Matt. 27:52-53).  They're all rich stories that you should read, but I'm only interested in one of them this week, the encounter between Jesus and his followers and the funeral procession of a man, led by his widowed mother, leaving the town of Nain (Luke 7:11-17).

Jesus, says Luke, "had compassion for her and said to her, 'do not weep.'  Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still.  And he said, 'young man, I say to you, rise!'  The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother."  Everyone is amazed and praises God, calling Jesus a great prophet.

This is one of three stories of Jesus raising people from the dead.  There's Lazarus, whom Jesus knew and was his friend; the daughter of Jairus, a leader in the synagogue who begged Jesus to come and help his daughter; and this un-named man that Jesus meets on the road, who's mother doesn't ask for help and whom Jesus doesn't know.

So first off, let's be clear about compassion: just like grace and forgiveness and love, it requires no setup or response from the receiver.  It's an act of giving, without demand or condition and available to all.  It requires no begging or familiarity, no act of faith or statement of belief.  And, when freely given, as it is by Jesus here, it's life-giving.  Jesus doesn't just restore the man to life, he restores the widow's life, too.  To first lose her husband and then her son, this woman would have had nothing and no one to care for her or protect her.  Jesus restores them both and continues on his way.

That's compassion as modelled by Jesus.  So here's something to think about: how's your compassion?  Do you see others' hurts or pain?  Can you find sympathy or empathy?  Or do you have boundaries or restrictions?  Maybe you're overwhelmed by your own challenges?

It bears some hard  thinking about because here's a great example of compassion that we should follow.  But there's something else to think about here, too, another perspective.  We might want to be like Jesus in this story.  But what if we're the widow?  Or the dead man?

The way of Jesus is life-giving.

Here's something I think about when I hear this story.  We seem to be hearing a lot about how the church is dead, is dying or, for that matter, has been dead for some time.  I suspect, to paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the church's death have been greatly exaggerated.  But it is dead to many, perhaps, because it seems no longer relevant or meaningful or supportive.

What if the dead man in this story is the church?  What if the widow's the world?

There's not really any indication in the story, but I wonder what the man and his mother's lives were like before he died.  There seems to be a crowd gathered for his funeral, so perhaps he was known in the community.  Perhaps he kept busy with the ordinariness of life, working had to make enough to live, being a good, solid member of the community, but generally consumed with day to day life.  Here's where their life journey, the dead man and his mother, has brought them, to a roadside encounter with Jesus.

I wonder, sometimes, if we aren't on that same road.  And there's Jesus, looking with compassion, inviting us to rise up again and saying, in the language of John's gospel, come and follow, live the way I show you, because it's true and the way to new life.

We'll take anyone ... and we mean it

Almost a year and a half ago, I preached a sermon about the magi coming to find Jesus.  I've written about this before; more than once or twice, probably.  I suggested that the magi being from another country - and not Jews - tells us that, even from his birth, Jesus is for everyone, just as God’s love is for everyone.  It’s another reminder to us that we, as followers of Jesus should welcome everyone.

I began that sermon by saying that I had a dream that, one day, our church, and churches everywhere, would have a big sign on the front of their building, where everyone could see it, that said “we’ll take anyone.”  Jesus’ life tells us that in how he sought out the marginalized, just as this story of his birth reminds us that anyone can come to Jesus.  I also suggested that we’d have a sign inside, where we could see it, that said “and we mean it.”  A little something to remind us to live it, not just say it.

Before the end of the week someone in our congregation had put those signs up.  I hope that we do endeavour to live into those signs everyday.  Isn’t that part of what “being church” is all about?

I'm sure there's some who don't care for our sign.  Some might disagree with it entirely and that's okay.  Some people believe that church ought to be more exclusive and you should believe a certain thing and act a certain way to get in.  We don't.  You are welcome, whoever you are, however you are, because we believe that's the way Jesus would do it and we're trying to follow the way of Jesus.  We hope.  We do our best, but just hold that thought for a minute, I'm coming back to that.

Some might think it's a nice idea, but if we'll take anyone, what does that say about us?  Does that mean we're all just "anyone?"  Um, yes, yes it does.  Going to church doesn't make us special or better than others or superior or any of those things.  I think it helps us live.  I think it helps us understand God and each other better.  I think it helps us learn about Jesus and how living like Jesus can make the world a better place.  I think it helps us love and support each other and creates a sense of community and belonging based on that love and support.  I think it helps us wonder about spiritual things, mysteries of life and the universe and all that, and maybe, just maybe, help us answer a few questions for ourselves.

Anyone, openly, equally and without cost or fear of judgement or anything else, should be able to do that.  And not just able to do it, but appreciated for what they bring to the community.  You might not want to come or it might not feel like a good fit or you might disagree with everything we might say or do, but you are welcome here.  

We hope.  Let me go back to that for a second.  I hope we live into that sign.  I hope it means more than words.  But I think it’s an ongoing process of experience, learning and growing.  Being welcoming is more than just a smile and a handshake, it’s being intentional in how we engage people, both those who come into our church and those who we meet outside the church.

So, this June, our church is considering whether it will engage in the United Church's Affirming process.

The Affirming Ministries Program describes itself as an educational and discernment process that reflects on what it means to be inclusive and evaluates our congregation’s openness to including all others in the life and work of our ministry.  This means learning about and engaging a variety of areas that may be barriers to people coming to our community, including age, gender, race, ability, class, economic status and, in particular to the Affirming Ministry, sexual orientation and gender identity.

The process is different for every congregation, because every congregation is different.  It is tailored to our specific context and community, but will include sharing stories, discussion on the use of scripture to affirm and to discriminate, hearing from other Affirming ministries, social justice workshops and discussion.  There are a variety of resources available that we would work on over the next year or two.

As we discuss this and, potentially explore it further, I hope that we hear from anyone who wants to share their thoughts and feelings with us.  Process or not, we've opened a door you're welcome to walk through.

How do you experience it?

The Senior High Drama Program at our school did Fiddler on the Roof recently and it was good.  It was very good.  Well, let’s be honest: it was very good just as it was.  Put that in the context of a program only five years old in a school of less than 250 students, total, in a community of about 875 in rural Alberta and it’s nothing short of amazing.

Okay, I’ll acknowledge my bias.  I’m married to the director, I know the teachers she works with and many of the students.  And I was playing the piano for it.  Yes, that’s a lot of bias.

But hear me out, because I just what to talk about one of the many, many reasons it was amazing.

A few weeks back, before the performances, I started to find that I had to really focus in rehearsal - yes, I know I should be anyway - because I was being distracted by the play.  Just to be clear: I was distracted by the play, not the players or the set or anything else.  They were telling the story so well that I was drawn into it, especially in the very emotional second act.

There’s nothing “lite” about this story: challenging tradition in a time of change, love, discrimination, this is a mature play.  And high school students were telling it.

And that’s what was so amazing about the performances.  They moved people.  Sure, there were lots of proud parents and relatives, but there were a lot of people who quickly put aside that they were impressed by young people and engaged a deep and meaningful story with lots of applause, lots of laughter and many tears.  They went home, not just entertained, but moved and taught by essential truths that meant something to them, told in a story that took place over a hundred years ago in a society very different, in a place far away.

I wonder if we do church as well as they do.  And I mean more than just talking to God as often as Tevye does in the play.  I mean, are we moving and teaching people with an experience that means something to them or just saying words and reiterating old sayings and stories that people can’t really connect with?

Here’s a thought about this week, which is Trinity Sunday.  It’s a day we acknowledge the belief that God is a trinity: the doctrine that God is one, but is three persons, traditionally (there’s that word “tradition” again) referred to as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, but we have developed other descriptions, too, such as Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer or Parent, Friend and Comforter or God-in-the-world, God-among-us and God-within-us or Lover, Beloved and Love Between.  There are many others.

For centuries, we’ve described the Trinity as a mystery, a relationship that we didn’t understand.  As if, somehow, 1+1+1=1 and we don’t need to know why, it just is.  But I don’t think that’s true.  Since the beginning, we have needed to know why and we’ve explained it many times, in many ways, in words and symbols that each new era might understand.

And there, I think, is the problem.  No relationship is just about words, but about relevant, interactive experience that means something to us.  Just as understanding isn’t only about explanation, it’s about acceptance and belief.  Past the surface explanation that God is present in all creation, expressed in Jesus and lived out with the Spirit, is the continuing and constantly changing experience of that idea.  We believe that God is present in all things because we experience it lived out through the life of Jesus as we live that life, empowered by the Spirit which is the energy of God present in all things.  That experience is love.

Born to be church

The story of Pentecost is the story of the birth of the church.  Not the building or the institution that we call church, but the whole idea of church.  There is the rushing mighty wind that fills everything - I see the spirit filling every nook and cranny of life; there are tongues of fire - I see the energy of the spirit animating our every action; and words spoken  that are heard and clearly understood in any language - I hear the spirit helping us connect with each other in ways that bring us together.  (Acts 2:1-21)

That’s church, isn’t it?  For everyone, everywhere, isn’t it?

Is it?

We want it to be.  So I imagine, in many churches this Pentecost Sunday, we’ll want to be as hip and relevant as we can: the balloons and streamers will come out, and the big fans for that rushing wind, we’ll sing really energetic songs and there’ll be cake.  Birthday cake for the church.  With one big candle to represent all those years.  And we’ll tell the story with as much energy and enthusiasm as we can muster.   ‘Cause we’re hip and cool.

Which is fine if you really are hip and cool.  But not everyone is, not like that, anyway.  For some it’s going to be solemn plainsong, candles and incense and still others gospel songs and fire and brimstone preaching.  Some will gather in great cathedrals, others in plain little wooden buildings and still others in theatres or hockey arenas.

For some, this year, the images of wind and fire will resonate more with fear and destruction than joy and celebration.  It will be difficult to see those images as a positive and inspiring reflection of the power of God at work in the world.

Isn’t that all part of the third piece, though?  Once the wind and fire - the special effects - had settled down, they began to communicate in a way that each person could understand.  No amount of energy overcomes faulty communication.  As I just suggested, even the images we use to communicate energy and enthusiasm might not do the job for everyone.

So how do you do that third piece, then?  How does the church share the story of God and Jesus, of what is true and right about how we should live together and, as we’ve been talking about for several weeks now, teach - and learn - how to love one another.  It sounds like a pretty lofty and idealistic goal, but just how do you do that?

I think that’s the answer right there.  How do you do that - you and me and each of us?  If we mean what we say when we say things like the church is a living thing, the church is people, the church is about community, the church is about relationships and, ultimately, our relationship with God and all creation, then shouldn’t we be more of a living, breathing being that interacts with others?

Just ponder that for a minute and ask yourself a few questions.  Like, if church were a person, would you want to know them?  And how would you go about that?  If church were you, would you want people to know you?  (Seriously, think about that.)  And how would you go about getting to know people?

It seems to me that’s how church got started.  The disciples shared the story in a way people could understand.  Paul built communities by bringing people together on common ground.  We had to figure out how to be together.  But then we thought we knew how and we cast it in stone and told people what they had to be in order to belong.   And soon it was about excluding those who didn’t meet the criteria.

But that’s counter to both the story of Pentecost and the story of Jesus.  The Spirit moved the disciples to communicate in a way that connected with people, loving and living with everyone, even those who thought they were drunk and “filled with new wine” (Acts 2:13).  Jesus met people where they were, physically, educationally and emotionally, he healed the broken and restored them, he challenged the structures of society that confined and excluded people.  That’s what church was born to be.

Ut omnes unum sint

On the night he was arrested, according to John’s gospel, Jesus talked to the disciples at length, something referred to by bible scholars as the Farewell Discourse.  Knowing what was to happen next, “that his hour had come to depart from this world” (John 13:1), Jesus tells the disciples - and us - some really important things.  It’s long, the Farewell Discourse, and full.  At the end of it Jesus prays to God for the disciples.  And us.

I’ll just repeat that.  At the end of a lot of important teaching, Jesus prays.  For the disciples.  And us.

And it ends with something huge: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”  (John 17:20-23)

That they may all be one.  Maybe I’m a little biased, because those words, in latin and French, are on the United Church crest, but I think that’s huge.  Not Donald Trump huge - really huge.

I wonder, though how we hear that.  In the United Church, I think we’ve always tried to understand that as meaning we are both united and uniting, that it’s an ongoing process, this unity thing.  It means that we recognize the uniqueness of the individual and that we are all different, but we respect those differences and welcome everyone for who they are.  That, in itself, is a unifying thing, as is our unity in being followers of Jesus, as is our unity in being children of God.

Of course, that’s just my opinion.  There may be others.  And I respect that.

The thing is, people are a lot of work.  Relationships are a lot of work.  And sometimes we stop there.  But it’s bigger than that.  Jesus said “all” and “one.”

A few years ago, the church added another line to the crest in recognition of our First Nations heritage.  In Mohawk, it means “all my relations.”  That’s not just about people, it’s about the interconnectedness of all things, a sense of harmony with all forms of life.  It reminds us of our place in the web of life.  All life.

That’s huge.  Overwhelmingly huge, even.  When Jesus says “all” it’s not selective, it’s truly all.  Just as the love Jesus lives and shares isn’t selective, it’s for all.  All our relations.

And so is the “one.”  There is a power in that “all”  - it’s the “one.”  God.  That’s what all that “you’re in me, I’m in you, they’re in us” is all about.  That’s what adds “completely” to “all” and “one:” it’s our relationship with God.  Jesus prays that we may all be one in relationship with each other, all of creation and with God, recognizing that that very interconnectedness of life we talk about, the relationships we know are there, the harmony with all living things, the thread that weaves the fabric of life - this is the power of God: love.