Waiting and Ready

We do a lot of waiting. Just generally, in life we do a lot of waiting. But lately, it’s been particularly tough waiting. As the pandemic drags on, we’re waiting, not even for it to end anymore, but for the next announcement of case numbers, the next change in guidelines, the next closure or the next much needed support program. We’re waiting for test results - of all kinds - waiting for programs to come back, waiting for jobs. We’re waiting for election results. We’re waiting for peace. We’re waiting for news, good and bad.

We’re waiting for Jesus.

And that’s not your general waiting. We might be waiting for Jesus because Christmas is coming. We might be waiting for Jesus because, just like the earliest followers of Jesus, we heard him say he’d be back and when he did it’d be the end times and judgement and death and destruction and only the righteous (like us, we hope) will be saved. We might be waiting for the next moment we see Jesus alive and at work in the world, in each other and in ourselves. We might be waiting for Jesus because we just really feel the need for Jesus right now (please read previous sentence again - and again).

In Matthew, when Jesus talked about  “coming back” in the days just before he was arrested, he talked to the disciples about waiting and being prepared for his return. He told this story. He said there were ten bridesmaids, waiting for the groom to come to the wedding banquet. Five were wise because they brought additional oil for their lamps, while five were foolish because they only had what was in their lamps. The groom is delayed and everyone goes to sleep, only to be awakened at midnight with the warning that the groom was coming. The foolish were out of oil and asked the wise to give them some. The wise said no because there wasn’t enough for everyone and sent the other five off to find more. While they’re gone, the groom arrives, the party starts and when the others return, they find themselves locked out. The groom says they don’t even know them. “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

So. Be prepared. That’s how we’ve interpreted this story. The wise are prepared and are the ones who get to the party with Jesus, the bridegroom.

But what does that mean? How should we be prepared? What’s the oil in our lamps today? And how might that help us when we’re waiting for all those other things?

What if this wasn’t a story about being prepared in the future, but rather about what is right now. We admire those who have much over those with little. And when those with little are in need, we don’t always share equitably. No, maybe there’s not enough oil for everyone, but if we shared, we’d share the time in the darkness as well as the light. We send people away and find a reason to exclude them. Worst of all, the groom - who could easily be us - seems to be apathetic to the situation (which they caused by being late) and okay with excluding people. What if this isn’t the example of how to be prepared, but the opposite?

Maybe the “how to be prepared” isn’t a couple of paragraphs near the end, but the entirety of the life lived before it. Maybe the best way to “keep awake” and “be prepared” is to share equitably, support each other, include everyone, build relationships, be empathetic and compassionate. And maybe even be on time. Or at least true to the good that is in us.

Don’t just sit around waiting. Be Jesus. Live.

For all the Saints

November 1 is All Saints Day in many churches. Unfortunately, you might miss it because it’s overshadowed by its much more popular and entertaining neighbour Hallowe’en. Ironic really, because Hallowe’en literally means All Hallows Eve or “the day before All Saints Day.”

I don’t begrudge Hallowe’en its popularity, though. It’s fun, engaging and an opportunity to dress up and pretend to be someone or something you’re not. And, while I know things can get out of hand (especially with the “trick” part of “trick or treat”) and we can be a little superstitious, I just don’t think there’s really anything in the evil or satanic stories we tell around it. Sure, some of its history is pagan traditions and the notion that this is a time when the veil between this world and the next is thin, but that’s all tied to our connection to the earth, seasons changing, fertility and life and death. We’re part of the earth and divine, after all.

Of course, throw in a full moon this year (a Blue Moon, the second full moon this month) and that can get people going, especially with the year we’ve had so far. But then, the clocks go back an hour, too, so maybe it’s just a reset.

Let’s go back to that “pretend to be someone you’re not” idea though, because I think that’s something to think about the next day, All Saints Day. While I think we’ve always had the best of intentions when it comes to saints, I wonder if we haven’t made them something so special and unique that they’re unreachable, untouchable and certainly something unattainable. We want them to inspire us and be an example for us, but it seems, instead, that we’ve put them up on a pedestal, cast them in stone or stained glass, named churches after them and put them out of reach. We make them something we’re not and will never be. Just like Jesus, they’re out of our league.

But they’re not. They’re you and me. I think they’re just flawed and broken human beings who discovered they were perfect just as they are and, in discovering that, found their connection to both the divine spirit and the earth that’s in them. They found good. They found grace, kindness, compassion and love and - and here’s the important part - lived it. That’s what makes them an example, not an idol.

Mark Isleifson reminded me about this the other day. Another one of our local acting legends, Mark was in the Bashaw Community Theatre production of ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame’ a few years ago and he played St. Aphrodisius, a real first century saint. In the story, he’s long dead, of course, but immortalized in a stained glass window in the great cathedral. As the hunchback Quasimodo is trying to figure out a clue to where he’d find his beloved Esmerelda, St. Aphrodisius comes alive, steps out of his stained glass window and sings to Quasimodo, telling his story and inspiring him to figure out what the clue means. The great saint steps down from where we put him away and engages the lowly Quasimodo. Good, kindly hearts make a connection.

That’s what saints do. They make a connection that inspires good. Don’t have to be on a pedestal or a throne, a mountain top or a seat of power. They could be someone you think you should avoid or someone you might not even notice. They could be you.

Please think about this

Sure, it would be nice if Jesus made more clear and concise theological statements. I guess. Although, I suspect we’d probably just argue more about what they mean. There are so many “authoritative interpretations” announced as “the right one” that it’s hard to know what to think sometimes.

So you probably should. Think about it. Really think about it.

That said, there’s lots to think about and lots of information and interpretations to consider. There’s also lots of people who are happy to tell you “the facts” and separate “the facts” from “the myths” (which are apparently bad) and, with the right delivery, their words carry a lot of weight.

It seems like all you have to do is hold up the right book and somehow it makes what you have to say “the truth.”

I think that’s why the stories need to speak just as loudly as the statements. And they need to speak to you. Please don’t let anyone “tell you how it is” unless they begin with “here’s what I think, please think about this.” And please consider their actions, too, when, assessing what they offer.

So. Please think about this.

Each of Matthew, Mark and Luke have stories of Jesus addressing which is the greatest commandment. Matthew, in particular, places it in the context of the leaders of the Temple asking Jesus questions, hoping to trap him with an answer they can use against him. Again, they seem more concerned with his words than anything else. So, in the story, this is their final question: which is the greatest commandment in the law?

That might seem tricky, there being not just the ten we’re most familiar with, but also another more than six hundred. But Jesus answers right away: love God with all your heart, soul and mind. And love your neighbour as you love yourself.

The first would likely have satisfied them, but there’s Jesus, always with the “and.” As if there’s always more. Because there is.

We’re often quick to point out that the “love” Jesus means is the unconditional, grace-filled, compassion-filled, life-giving love of God. There’s different kinds of love, of course, and we don’t want to complicate things with physical love, emotions, kinship, family, other things. This is the divine, transcendent love of God. Which is a really convenient way of holding it at arms length and making it something impossible for us to achieve. So. Please think about this: I think Jesus means all love. It’s not something to put on a pedestal and wonder at, it’s something to hold close and share generously, be amazed it and wrestle with. Love is love. It’s heart, mind and soul.

And that’s another thing. It’s in you and around you. It’s heart, soul and mind. It begins your relationship with God, with yourself and your neighbour. I’ll just say that again, so please think about this: it begins. It begins life. It begins relationship.

That’s what makes it the real test. Questions, statements, words, they’re not as challenging as love. That’s why we didn’t get more words from God, we got Jesus. Living, breathing love from the beginning. Want to know how to do love? Be Jesus.

"Deep in our hearts, there is a common vision"*

*From the hymn by John Oldham © 1995

Jesus always has a vision. He probably has visions, too, but I mean he has a vision of what things ought to be and how we can get there. Yes, “can.” I don’t for a minute think Jesus thought we aren’t capable of the love, grace, compassion and, yes, righteousness he taught. He tried to show us that we, too, are divine and human, and he literally lived and modelled it for us in a way that demonstrated his belief in us.

So it always bothers me when people try separating things into the spiritual and earthly, as if those things aren’t - or shouldn’t be - connected. (I wanted to say it surprises me, but it doesn’t anymore.) They are. Perhaps if we leaned into that a bit more, we might find it easier to see the Jesus in each other, and all around us, and see just how life-giving it is.

Take politics, for instance. Yes, politics. (Don’t stop reading now, I’m almost there.)

By all means, separate church and state. Keep religion out of politics. And politics out of religion, I hope. If, like most, you believe that religion and politics are the very human and very fallible structures that we’ve built, please, keep them apart. If you see them as being about partisanship, power, control, management, uniformity, or even more cynical things, please: keep them apart. They’ll only hurt each other.

But if, like Jesus, you might view this differently and you might see it, instead, as the interconnectedness of God - or however you know that life-giving force of love that I’d call God - with something more akin to “ubuntu” or the people in relationship as a caring community, well, that can be a different thing. That’s the kingdom of heaven Jesus is always talking about.

Matthew, Mark and Luke all relate a story in which religious leaders tried to trap Jesus with a question about paying taxes. Should the people pay taxes to the Roman emperor, or not? If he says no, he risks being reported to the state authorities and being arrested. If he say yes, he risks alienating all the people. It’s a trick question. There’s no way Jesus can answer it that they can’t claim a victory.

Except there is: Jesus asks to see a coin and, showing the image of the emperor on it, he says “give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and give to God the things that are God’s.”

Clever Jesus, we traditionally think. But I don’t think Jesus meant to be clever, I just think he answered sincerely. They just weren’t all on the same page. And we’re not either.

I think the religious leaders saw this as an either/or option only, just as we do today. But for Jesus, God is in all things, especially us. It might have been Caesar’s image on the coin, but we are created in the image of God. And the earth. Divine and human. It’s not separate, it’s connected; it’s not an either/or, it’s and “and.”

It might seem to us that we’re far from the kingdom of heaven Jesus envisioned. But maybe that’s part of the point of Jesus and other great figures of love and grace and “godliness.” We live in the world of our making and God’s. Again, however we might know God, there is divine and “earthy” in all things. The structures we might build around our beliefs and our societies are meant to help us understand and engage those things better, to grow and give them life. Ok, so they’re not always doing that. But we could try and see them differently, maybe with Jesus eyes.

"i thank You God for most this amazing day"

It’s Thanksgiving this week, in Canada at least. But it’s harvest time on this part of the planet for lots of people and, at least where we are here, there’s cause for celebration. It’s been a good crop, pretty good weather and lots of people working to bring it in. Given the state of things in the world today, I imagine there’s lots of people having to work to find something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. No doubt, there’s more than a few heaving a big sigh and saying “thank God for the harvest.”

Now, some of those might be just an expression of relief, but, really, we should all start by thanking God for the harvest. Really, however you know God, in nature, in each other, in spirit, in passion, in creativity and in relationships, we truly need to be thankful that we are filled, surrounded and connected by life. Maybe we should start there.

I guess it depends on what end you view things from. I’m already seeing lot of messages reminding people that there’s always something to be thankful for. Even in these pandemic times, even with grief, civil unrest, racism, poverty, homelessness, war and violence and, well, and, and, and. The list is long. But still, there are little things every day for which we should be - could be - thankful. Often it’s simply a question of looking for them and acknowledging them. Do you see things to be thankful for?

Like the harvest. Even with all that other stuff, there’s a good harvest and that’s the point of the seasonal holiday, anyway, isn’t it? At least we’ve got farmers to be thankful for.

Yes. About that. No one’s more grateful for farmers than me. Obviously I like food. And I also would be a terrible farmer and appreciate the skill and dedication of so many who, thankfully, are good at it.

But they don’t do it alone, do they? They need the seed and the animals. They need the land. They need good (or, at least, cooperative) weather. They need farm equipment. They need workers, they need trucks and drivers to haul the harvest, they need places to process, workers and places that turn the raw ingredients into other things. They need time. We don’t do things alone, we need the resources of creation and the support of each other.

Maybe we should start there.

What if we began with being thankful simply for what is? What if we began with a sense of thankfulness for this creation in which we live that offers, yes, challenges, but also opportunities? What if we began with the wholeness of creation, before we broke it down or broke ourselves down? What if, like the poet E.E. Cummings, we began each waking moment with “i thank You God for most this amazing day,” recognizing that the wholeness of life is the beginning of thankfulness.

That’s why “i thank You God for most this amazing day.” God is in that wholeness of creation, from the beginning. God is all that is beautiful and all is beautiful in its beginning. God is that love that connects us, that energy that inspires us, this earth that feeds us. Lets begin in thanks.

Finding the heart of our story

Do you know The Ten Commandments?

I mean the movie. I’ll get to the actual Ten Commandments in the Bible in a  minute, but what about the classic 1956 Cecil B. DeMille film that made Charlton Heston a star? If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth a look as a classic epic of its day. You’ll need three hours and forty minutes, though. That’s about 22 minutes a commandment.

Except it isn’t. Moses receiving the commandments and bringing them to the people takes up less than 10 minutes. Makes you wonder why the movie's called The Ten Commandments. Maybe it should be “The Life of Moses” or “Exodus” or “the journey of people who only knew slavery gaining their freedom and then having to learn how to be a community, a people and a nation.” Yeah, I think that’s the one.

Which is also what the “Ten Commandments” are about. I’m using quotes there because we only started calling them that - commandments - in the 16th century thanks to the Geneva Bible and then the massively influential King James Version. Hebrew people knew them as the the ten words or sayings. Because that’s what they are. 

On their journey to finding themselves, growing and learning as people to be a people together, they needed more than the “wilderness experience.” They needed guidance. They needed some fundamental principles for relationships, with each other and with God, that would create and build community. They needed some building blocks for a society that would not just live, but thrive. That’s the purpose of the ten sayings. They’re not “commands” to control behaviour or laws to be taken literally, they’re a universal framework for loving ourselves and our neighbours.

They’re an essential part of the Exodus narrative, but they need that narrative context - that story of “the journey of people who only knew slavery gaining their freedom and then having to learn how to be a community, a people and a nation” - for us to understand their purpose. They need to be written on our hearts and lived out in our daily lives, not chiselled in stone like some long forgotten monument. They need to be part of our narrative.

I also think that we have a particular way of understanding laws and rules that we impose on the ten sayings. As a society, most laws and rules tend to be designed to tell you what you can’t do or what you must do - or else. There’s a consequence to not following the law and it’s punishment.

But this is a covenant, not a contract, a covenant with God and each other. In a covenant, each party offers its part to build a new thing, in this case a mutually supportive community of love, grace and compassion in which everyone can belong and have an equitable place.

Suppose we were to look at all laws and rules differently. Suppose we could look at them like people who believed in a God of hope and promise, who’s story included being a God who heard the cries of people in bondage, broken and hurting, and then sought to do more than just free them. A God who sought to bring them to a new life and create a new world in which relationships were honoured, lives were respected and compassion, honesty and truth were commonplace, not exceptional. We could sure use that right now.

Hmm. I'm thinking.

How do you decide? With all the information about COVID-19, racial tensions, the economy, politics and all the other stuff that comes from the media, social media, governments, non-government agencies and businesses, not to mention those people you have coffee with who have suddenly become experts on everything, how do you decide what’s true? Especially when what’s true might not be what you want to be true.

There’s a simple enough answer, of course. Be discerning, fact check, find sources that are educated and knowledgable about the topic, look to qualified experts who’ve studied and researched by fair and reasoned methods and put some thought into it yourself in order to better understand everyone’s viewpoint. Try and be objective and take into consideration what would be best for everyone, as well as you, and make an informed decision that cares for people and the earth in a loving and peaceful way. 

Or you can just go with that person on Facebook who had a funny meme.

We live in an era when titles, status, elected and un-elected positions of “authority” and any and all positions of power are not a guarantee of truth or authenticity. Maybe we want to say that’s new, but it’s not. We’re human beings. I think it’s always been like this, we’re just challenging it more.

Jesus was always challenging the hierarchy of his day, people in positions of “authority” that were put there by tradition, election or the use of force (soldiers or money) to exert their power. Particularly with the Temple authorities, the chief priests and the elders, he pointed out the disconnect between the heart of the law and their behaviour. And please also remember that the stories do generalize about that. There was the occasional leader, priest or elder, even a centurion, who came to Jesus in good faith.

But they also challenged him. And rightly so.

Here’s the scene: the leader arrives in town and a crowd gathers to celebrate their arrival. The crowd’s big and unruly, but happy, so nothing gets out of hand. Next day, the leader heads to an obvious seat of power and authority where they do get out of hand and totally trash the place. No charges are laid. They come back the next day and make speeches and share their views on some things. The authorities come out to challenge the leader, hoping to dislodge them and disperse the crowd. So they ask the leader “by what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”

Seems a reasonable enough question. And a familiar one, one that plays out a lot in the world today. Except this isn’t today, it’s Jesus arriving in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, “cleansing” the Temple, teaching and preaching, and being challenged by the chief priests and the elders of the people. Jesus’ answer, by the way, is “not gonna tell ya.”

And, because it’s Jesus, we might observe this as just another moment that Jesus challenges the status quo. Good for Jesus. But wait a minute. It’s a fair question: what is the source of Jesus’ authority? Not only is the question legitimate, I think the answer can help us with navigating that sea of issues, crises and information.

I think that Jesus walks the talk, for sure. But I don’t think it’s just that. People connect with Jesus because they also connect with the divine in Jesus and the human in Jesus. Both those things are in us and they find their way out, not just in talk about love and grace but in living that. And that’s most evident when we care for each other, especially those who’s struggle to care for themselves. It’s most evident in us when we put what’s right, what’s good for the community which is our world, ahead of our personal desires. It’s most evident when we don’t let ignorance, envy, hate or fear cloud our judgement. It’s most evident when we look for wisdom, follow the light and see that we are part of something greater than just ourselves. That’s the kind of authority Jesus wielded: authentic, sincere, radical and daring to us. Just being one’s self to Jesus.