Getting On Board?

Can I talk about “All Aboard the Ark!” for a minute?  Stick with me, it’ll be worth it.

“All Aboard the Ark!” was our children’s summer program at the church this year, just last week.  A big “thank you” to all the children, parents, helpers, supporters and leaders who had a part in making a great week.

We do one each year, for 5-12 year olds.  It’s a week, mornings only, with songs, stories crafts and games.  There’s a snack each day, of course, and a lunch on the last day.  There’s a theme for the week and this year it was the Noah’s Ark story (Genesis 6:9-9:17).

Sort of.

We didn’t really focus on the story itself so much as the ark.  Our idea was to wonder about how everyone got along, building the ark and spending all that time cooped up in conditions that weren’t really cruise ship worthy in order that they could make a new beginning for the world.

On Monday we introduced the story: God had decided that things hadn’t turned out the way God thought they would, so God, much like an artist with a painting that hadn’t turned out, decided to wash it all away.  At least, that’s how God described it to Noah when he asks Noah to help.  God wants Noah to build an ark to save two of every creature so that the world can start again, pretty much from scratch.  God even gets the animals to help Noah build the ark.  And we did.  The children got to be there favourite animal and we put together some big pieces of chloroplast (thanks Bryan!) and started building the ark.  Together.

On Tuesday, it rained.  In the story called “Water all around,” anyway, and the animals were worried.  They tried to find God and ask God to stop the rain, but only the fish, in the end, knew where God was: just like the water to the fish, God is all around us, always with us.

The Monday craft had been making rainsticks (a percussion instrument that simulates the sound of rain) so the kids could be part of the story.  Check out our Facebook page for a short video clip of them in action.

By Wednesday, we were on the ark and it was pretty crowded, as you might expect.  We talked about personal space, both our own and respecting other’s, with a story called “Personal Space Camp.”  Both the craft and the games included Tic-Tac-Toe, a game that’s all about individual spaces.

Thursday, with everyone respecting each others’ space, was an opportunity to learn about how we can be good neighbours.  So we talked about the Golden Rule, “do unto others as you would have them do to you,” with a story about a rabbit who wonders how to deal with his new neighbours, the otters.  Yes, it’s called “Do Unto Otters.”

When the ark ran aground on Friday, we had a story called “Water All Around,” in which the raven and the dove, the most plain of all the birds, are the only ones brave enough to go out in search of land.  When the dove can’t find her way back with the olive branch, all the other brightly coloured birds make a rainbow to show her where the ark is.  We sang “This little light of mine” and wondered about the amazing things that each of us can accomplish, both by ourselves and together, remembering that God is always with us.  Just like the fish knew.

It was a great week.  And thanks again to everyone who participated and helped out.

Here’s the thing.  When all was said and done and the week was over, I was sitting reading the news.  All I could think was how much I’d like to take everyone, from everywhere, and sit them down in the kids’ makeshift ark.  We’d read those stories and sing some songs and learn how we otter be getting along.  We’d learn about respecting each other and all that we can accomplish with our individual gifts and, together, fly a little higher and a little brighter over a new world.  It may be child-like, but it sure isn’t childish.

Our pretend ark was church pews, rope and big pieces of plastic.  But the world is an ark, too.  And, just like our week on the ark, we should build it together, know that God is always with us, live with respect, treat others as we’d like them to treat us, and we shouldn’t be afraid to live to the fullest.

Pray

Do you pray?

Just to be clear, I'm not asking about those times in church when the pastor says "Let us pray" and we all bow our heads or kneel and share in a prayer made on our behalf.  Nor am I talking about those times we share in the Lord's Prayer, the prayer Jesus taught us, whether we understand it as an example of how to pray or "the" prayer to be shared.

I mean, do you pray?  You.  By yourself.  With God.  Or by whatever name you call God.

In the gospel of Luke, the author gives us one of the two stories of Jesus answering the disciples request to teach them to pray (Luke 11).  His response includes a short version of what we refer to as the Lord's Prayer.  But Jesus goes on, first with a parable that reminds us to be persistent in prayer and second, a reminder that God answers with what God knows is appropriate.  It seems a little like saying - and I'm paraphrasing Luke with some additions, here - "ask, and it shall be given to you, though maybe not exactly what you were expecting; search, and you will find, though maybe not exactly what you thought you were looking for; knock, and the door will be opened to you, though it may be a little like playing The Price Is Right, 'cause you might find something you weren't expecting."  God knows what is best for you and will answer with what is best for you.  Trust God.

That's a good way of explaining that, I suppose.  At least, we want it to be.  Sometimes it's hard to make that enough.  Like when we pray that God will help someone with cancer get well and they don't.  Or we pray that God will protect us from abuse, but the abuse doesn't stop.  Or we pray that a loved one travels safely and they're hurt in an accident.  Or we pray that God will help us find a job so we can care for our family, and there's no work to be found.  Or we pray for good healthy crops and there's a drought.  Is it enough then?

I want to say it is.  But if you've been in one of those situations when you appeal to God for help and it appears that the help isn't coming, it's seems harder to believe, doesn't it?  And not just in God, but in ourselves.  After all, what if our prayers weren't answered because we prayed wrong?

Maybe the key to understanding that better is in the examples Jesus gives, comparing prayer to persistently asking a friend for help, or comparing how God might answer to a parent's response to a child.  It seems, in Luke's gospel, like Jesus is saying "you must understand the relationship as if God were a friend or parent who knows us, who really knows us, not like some distant, all powerful entity."  God is not the Great Oz, but our dearest friend, a parent, a lover that knows us intimately, genuinely, uniquely.  After all, if we come from God and return to God, how can God not know us so deeply?

Our Prayer Tree - say a prayer
and tie a ribbon on the tree.

I don't have an answer for how God responds to each individual and unique prayer.  I can't imagine that anyone does.  But I know this: prayer is the voice of our relationship with God.  God hears all that is said from our hearts and you can't - you can't! - pray wrong.  God loves us for who we are and God loves us regardless of how we live.  God answers all prayers with love, whatever that love may look like to us.

Talk regularly with God.  Pray for needs, but pray with thanks also.  Pray because God is listening like a best friend or a parent or a loved one.  Pray however your heart needs to speak.  But do pray.

A Story About Jesus

True story.  I had to rescue Jesus from the side of the highway last Sunday morning.  His car broke down.  On the way to church.

I was the closest, so I had to go back and get him.  Church just wouldn’t have been the same that morning without Jesus.

Jesus was travelling alone.  And he was behind me, so he was a little late, probably doing something, I guess.  You know Jesus, right?

I should have messaged him and asked if he needed a ride in the first place.  His vehicle hasn’t been all that reliable lately.  This wasn’t the first time it had broken down and left him in the lurch.  I should have offered to take him, but I didn’t.

But there were others who could have taken him, too.  Yeah, so it’s not just me that didn’t think of him.  Or maybe they did and he just wanted some alone time.  Doesn’t matter.  For whatever reason, there was one, so I don’t feel bad about it.

Besides, I’m pretty busy, too.  That’s why I was still the closest.  Everyone else was already at the church or almost there and I was still on my way.  If I hadn’t been, it would have been even further to go to get him.  If we even did.  We probably would’ve been fine without him, but still, good thing I was handy.

When I came for him, Jesus was grateful for the hand.  You could tell he was pretty disappointed in his vehicle, though.  He’d picked it because he thought it was reliable and he could trust it.  He said it’d been around for a while, but hadn’t been used much.

It was a little ways further back than I thought, so we got to the church late.  They started without us.  Thankfully, the leader there didn’t give up on us and got people started so they’d be ready.  Because, of course, it did matter that Jesus was there.  It made a difference to everyone who was there who heard and sang and laughed and clapped and left inspired to share some Jesus in the world.

That is, as I said, a true story.

Last Sunday, the cast of Godspell was participating in the morning service in Camrose, where they were performing that weekend.  Their minister had crafted the service around that.  The actor who plays Jesus did get stuck on the highway, I was the closest person, I did go back for him and we were late.  And we, all of us who were there, were part of something special that everyone took away with them.

I also said that I was going to be telling this story.  Not just because it happened, but because it’s true.  The metaphors abound.

Jesus calls us into a relationship.  We may rely on Jesus, hear the stories of Jesus and speak to the importance of Jesus in our lives, but the way isn’t followed sitting down.  We, as the song says, are the hands and feet of Jesus now.  And, while I suspect most people wouldn’t admit it, it can be easier to leave Jesus stranded on the road than we think.  Please, be the hands and feet of Jesus as much as the mouth.  Move, as much as meditate; participate, as much as ponder   Be Mary as well as Martha.  Because that story’s not really about which way is better, period.  It’s about knowing when which way is better.  Life is about both.

The church hasn’t always been the most reliable vehicle for Jesus, has it?  It’s been around for awhile and it could use a tuneup.  So could you.  Be ready.  Be Jesus.

What do you mean, "religious?"

Godspell’s all around you this July, here in our little corner of central Alberta.  It’s a show, a musical, with a great story, some great songs and a great cast of local young people who are pretty amazing performers.  You should go see it.  It was in Settler July 1-3, but if you missed that, you can see it in Camrose July 8-10, Bashaw July 15 and 17, Lacombe July 22 and 23 and Drumheller July 29-31.  Tickets and information from barnsideproductions.com or message me.

There.  Commercial accomplished.

Hang on, though, this whole thing isn’t just an advertisement.  Let’s talk about religion for a moment.

I’ve had a few people ask me if the show was really religious, so I was already wondering about that when one of the cast members came into rehearsal a few weeks ago and told this story.  He said that he’d told a friend that he was in Godspell and they responded “I didn’t know you were religious.”  He said he didn’t know what to say to that - he thought he was just in a show, a show with a great story.

Some people might not even get past the title, Godspell, because they think it’s religious.  The old english origin of the word godspell is a contraction of the words for “good” and “story.”  Which the show is, by the way: a good story.  By the Middle Ages, it was more commonly understood as meaning “God’s story” (still a good story) and used as “gospel,” meaning both the stories in the Bible and a story that is “true,” as in the expression “the gospel truth.”

So here’s what I think about that.

I think, first of all, that “religion” is the framework and structure that we put on what we believe in order that we might organize it and understand it better.  Because we human beings do that, we like to understand things.  At least, we try to understand things, even things that may seem to defy understanding.  Religion is all the interpretations, traditions, rules, moral codes and ideas that we human beings have come up with from the stories themselves and from the history of living with those stories.

The point is, I think religion is a human construct and is just as fallible as the people who make it.  It may, indeed, be divinely inspired or spiritually created, but it is, nonetheless, our own creation.  It’s ours.  That’s why I believe, for example, that there’s one God, but we all come to God in different ways.  It also means that religion can be capable of great good and, well, the opposite.  And it has been.

It’s no wonder “spiritual but not religious” is such a thing for people who have a sense of the spirit or an understanding that they believe in God or follow the teachings of Jesus or other holy figures but they don’t want a particular system or tradition.

It’s obviously a complicated issue.  You know it is when people write whole books about it and I’m not trying to do that here.

What I’d like you to know is that God’s story is a good story.  Not good just because it’s entertaining, moving and inspiring, but because it’s full of love and hope and what is true about how we could live together.  The Gospel of Mark begins with the words “the beginning of the Good News of Jesus” for a reason: that’s what’s in the story.

That’s what’s in Godspell.  It’s a good story from which we can learn many things, acted out with an energy and enthusiasm that, frankly, you won’t find in many religious organizations anyway.  In fact, that’s kind of the point of the play.

Back in the 1960’s, John Michael Tebalak was inspired by a book by theologian Harvey Cox called ‘Feast of Fools.’  In it, Cox asserts that the world needs more festivity and fantasy, more joy and more engagement with a vision of what the world could be.  He looks at this from a theological perspective, in particular, and suggests that the manner in which we tell our stories needs to change in order to inspire the radical change the world needs.  Godspell does just that.

It isn’t about religion.  It’s about finding wonder in a wonder-filled story, about learning from parables told in a joyful, often child-like way, where wisdom can be found in the guise of a “fool,” much like in Shakespeare or ancient folk tales.  It’s about seeing a story played out before you from which you find understanding of what’s true because that’s what’s at the heart of the story.

Religion’s not inherently bad, anymore than we human beings are.  We’re made in the image of God, remember?  (Genesis 1:27)  Wherever our life experience leads us, our default setting is good.  Religion is capable of doing great good, just like we are.  It’s just not the whole story.

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.