These Days

And just like that, it’s Advent again.

On the church calendar, Advent’s the four Sundays before Christmas, the countdown to the big day. No, wait, that’s wrong: it’s the count up to the big day.

That’s the great thing about Advent. Whether you begin on the first Sunday and go by the Sundays, like the candles on an Advent wreath, or have an Advent calendar that begins with the first day of December, Christmas is the culmination of days of preparation and anticipation.

Advent’s the beginning of the church year for many christians. It doesn’t match our calendar year because it’s not chronological. The church year doesn’t mark the passing of time, but rather the telling of a story, the meaning of which is, in many ways, timeless. That means we can start the year with these weeks of looking forward, a time of getting ready for the story of Jesus to begin.

On the first Sunday of Advent, we’re going to reach way back to do that, back to the prophet Jeremiah. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David.” The days are coming - the word advent comes from the Latin word for “coming” - when a new branch will appear on David’s family tree, a branch that will be right and good.

Jeremiah offered hope that righteous descendant of David was coming. With Jesus, many believed that hope was fulfilled. But hope doesn’t just end. Hope lives because hope is life. Hope isn’t casual, wishful thinking, but the certainty that we are not alone, that we are part of this great oneness of spirit which is in creation, that we are connected to each other by it and enlivened by it. It is much greater than just one moment.

As is Jesus. Jesus promised to return and his early followers believed that to mean the imminent return of this divine person they had just meant. When they didn’t happen, it became more like Jeremiah’s words: that day will come, one day. But they missed the possibility that Jesus - that spirit both divine and human - was alive in all of us, always. Jesus is always here, appearing in moments we least expect it. The days that are coming are everyday.

Jesus told them to watch for signs, many of which were about the destruction of this world. The “end times” were necessary for the new to arrive. But he also offered an image fitting a branch of David’s family tree. He said, look at trees: when they have buds on them, and leaves, you know that spring is here and summer is coming. It’s a sign.

Right now, we see only barren trees, cold temperatures, snow on the ground and shorter days. It may feel like winter in other ways, too. But there will be a time when those trees will have leaves again and grow bigger and stronger. Right now, they’re waiting, getting ready to return, but the days are surely coming.

What Kingdom Will Come?

For many churches, the year begins with the First Sunday in Advent, the season that prepares for Christmas. That's usually at the very end of November or the beginning of December, so about a month, give or take, before the beginning of the calendar year. The last Sunday of the old year - New Year's Eve, if you like - is known in many churches as Reign of Christ Sunday or Christ the King Sunday.

It may seem like that’s an image from antiquity - because it is - but the Sunday celebration was only established in 1925. The Pope at the time, Pius XI, was concerned about the post-war world that had achieved a military peace, but not a real one. He saw the rise of secular nationalism and groups like the nazi party and wanted to encourage something very different: the idea that true peace will come when Jesus rules in our hearts and lives. That’s a pretty solid idea, if you ask me, as long as people understand that the point of Jesus was to show us what we’re capable of when it comes to living lives of love, grace, compassion, caring, understanding, patience - the list goes on. The life of Jesus is our example, whatever language we us, religious, royal or otherwise.

For many, the language of religion is already going to require explanation. And now we’ve added the challenge of understanding the language of kingship in a meaningful way. In a modern era where hierarchy, structure and power are challenging issues, wouldn’t it be easier to find a simpler metaphor and more readily understood language, straight forward and to the point? Maybe. Or maybe struggling with this image could help us better understand our relationship with Jesus. Wherever we get our understanding of kingship, from history, culture or Disney, Jesus is going to challenge it, now as then, because Jesus challenges power over others, Jesus challenges unequitable and unjust structures. From the beginning, Jesus challenged our understanding.

Having a pretty clear idea of what kind of king they wanted didn't help the first century Hebrews understand Jesus. He didn't give them that kind of king. They wanted a warrior, he gave them peace. They wanted someone who would hate the enemy, he told them to love everyone. They wanted someone to restore their glory and riches, he told them to give it all up. They wanted someone who was powerful, as they understood power, and he gave them vulnerability. They wanted someone to serve, he was their servant. They wanted someone who would take back what was theirs, he gave them someone who sacrificed for all.

In his last hours, Jesus was arrested and brought to Pilate, a governor appointed by the Roman empire, a man with power and armies, a man who lived in a very structured society that believed their emperor was a God, a man who’s job was literally to keep the peace by force. When Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king, I imagine Jesus replying first with “what do you mean by that? Your kind of king or mine?” Because the kingdom of Jesus isn’t this.

Jesus’ kingdom is a place of true peace, with justice and equity for all, ruled, not by a person, but a spirit of love, grace and compassion. That list I mentioned earlier that’s the life of Jesus, that’s how we build it. It’s not about control or force or strength of arms, it’s not about dominance. Whatever language we use, it’s still just about being Jesus, together.

Is it Jesus?

It’s a classic question. Someone walks into your church on a Sunday morning, heads straight up the centre aisle to the pulpit and says “I’m Jesus, I have returned.” How do you know if it’s Jesus or not?

I don’t have an exact answer for that, but, given the number of times Jesus says he’ll return and also warns his followers to watch out for fakes (Mark 13:6, for example), I think it’s worth thinking about. And, besides, while we’re waiting, it could sure help with trying to figure out what it means to be a follower of Jesus. So, if you’re wondering if it’s Jesus, here’s a few things to think about, in no particular order.

1. I’m not sure that Jesus would appear in my church on a Sunday morning. Not because there aren’t wonderful, kind and loving followers of Jesus in the pews there, intentional and flawed human beings, but rather because there is. Jesus will always be found first with those most in need, the hurting, the poor, the sick and the lonely.

2. I wonder how Jesus will handle “the church.” Jesus constantly questioned institutions and structures. That’s not to say that Jesus would avoid churches, I just think Jesus is about people first.

3. If the Jesus you meet has an answer for every question you have and tells you what you should think, I think that I’d think twice about that Jesus. That’s a lot of thinking, but I think Jesus wants to guide us on our journey in life, not tell us how to walk and where to walk. Jesus wants us to think. And feel. We find our way with Jesus by our side.

4. Speaking of life, we talk about “the end times” a lot. Revelation is a hot book. But anyone who tells you that they need to bring about the end times now, in any way that causes hurt, pain or damage to others or any part of creation, is not Jesus. The end will come when it comes, we need to watch for it, not accelerate it. And remember, most importantly, the point of those stories is hope: the end of this world is the birth of a new one.

5. The good news of Jesus belongs to no particular nation, culture, tradition, society or people named Jesus. It’s about life, love and grace for all. All (underline that three times).

6. I don’t think Jesus demands blind obedience, but a thoughtful, heartfelt partnership. “Blind faith” ought to be an oxymoron. True faith demands our thoughtful minds, caring hearts and eager hands.

7. Jesus is about building community, with respect, justice and equity for all, whoever and however we are. I don’t think Jesus is interested in sameness or uniformity, but rather a unity or oneness that comes from recognizing the uniqueness of each of us, what we bring to others and how we come together.

8. That means relationships are important. I don’t think Jesus would isolate or set apart anyone. I think Jesus wants to engage the world, seeking ways to include everyone.

9. I don’t think Jesus would ever - ever, ever - use fear. One of the most important things said by the Jesus we know was “don’t be afraid,” and Jesus said it often.

10. Love. Jesus is all about love. If love isn’t at the heart of it, it’s not Jesus.

Come to think of it, you could probably just skip numbers 1-9 and just go with that last one. That’s how you know it’s Jesus: love.

Faith in Giving

The Widow’s Mite is the traditional name for a Bible story in the gospels of Mark and Luke about a poor widow that gives her last two coins to the temple treasury. Jesus comments to his disciples that, while they’ve seen many rich people contribute just a part of their wealth, she gave everything she had. “All of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:44).

“Mite” is the word used in the King James Version of the Bible to describe the coins, “two mites, which make a farthing.” That’s obviously early 17th century language rather than 1st century Judea, but the meaning is clear: they were small and of very little monetary value, likely equivalent to a fraction of a penny. But value is relative and to her, they were everything.

Many a church financial campaign in the past has cited this text as an example for giving. I’m going to say “financial campaign” rather than “stewardship” because if we’re looking at the widow’s personal stewardship, her use of her “mite” should raise some concern. Why would she give “everything she had, all she had to live on?”

In fact, one might argue that better personal stewardship was being shown by those who gave “out of their abundance.” We don’t know how much they gave, just that it wasn’t “everything.” They might have been generous, too.

I know, it’s not likely Jesus meant that. It was just a few chapters earlier that Mark tells the story of a rich man who asks Jesus what he should do and Jesus says “sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor” (Mark 10:21). That rich man wasn’t about to do that and Jesus sadly comments on how hard it is for the rich to come to the kingdom.

Okay, so the rich could give more. We could all give more. But, what if it’s not about money? And what if it’s also not just about the widow?

What if the widow’s real “might” is her faith in God, that, giving all that she has to God, or, at least, the Temple which does God’s work, she, and others in need, will be cared for and provided for. After all, care of widows and orphans is enshrined in the Law, the Law that’s at the heart of Jewish life. We should all have such faith.

Thing is, just before this tableau plays out, Jesus has been in the Temple and offered a warning to everyone about this, a condemnation of the scribes, the officials who have responsibility for the care of widows and orphans. They like to dress up and appear pious and demand respect for their rank, he says, but at the same time they’re stealing from widows. Jesus calls out their hypocrisy and greed.

What if this story is both a tale of profound faith and a condemnation of institutions that don’t honour it, that just “go through the motions.” Remember, too, that in Jesus world, the Temple and the Law were more than institutions, they were daily life. What if, in the gifts we offer and the sacrifices we make, we could have faith that they would be honoured by institutions and society alike. What if, in this complex weave which is our life, we must have faith in each other, that God - and all the love, grace, compassion, empathy and justice which is God - is present in both offering and need. What if we could build a world like that?

Here be saints

October 31 is a pretty important day, especially this year. Yes, you know what I mean. It’s Reformation Sunday, our annual recognition of the beginning of the movement that began Protestantism. It’s an important historical moment for anyone, but especially so if you’re part of that tradition.

And I mean no disrespect to it when I acknowledge that wasn’t your first thought when I mentioned October 31st. It’s Halloween. As much as I’d love to see some kids at the door trick-or-treating as Martin Luther or John Calvin, it’s not likely we’ll see much crossover there. But both deserve your attention and both have origin stories that are interesting and influential. Please learn more.

Thing is, they’re both part of an interesting little bundle of days on the church calendar and it’s the one that comes next to which I’d like to draw your attention for a minute. Both those days are the eve of All Saints Day or All Hallows (that’s what gives us “Halloween”), a day to remember and reconnect with saints.

Who those people are may depend on your faith tradition, but we’ve tended to think of them as the historic figures that we look to as great examples of The Faith. These are the people we most readily point to as people in whom we have seen the teachings of Jesus lived out, the Spirit alive, the light of God shining through. These are the superheroes of faith we can only aspire to be like.

And, unfortunately, that's where we stop. Somehow those saints have become distant from us, and not just in the past. Somehow, they've become something we, with our faults and frailties could never be, something we put in stained glass or a statue on a pedestal. Somehow those saints have all become not just superheroes, but superhuman. And they're not. They're us.

Jesus didn't choose twelve perfect examples of his teaching. He chose twelve ordinary, everyday people who learned and experienced something special and, despite their very real flaws, became not something different, but even more of themselves. And not just those twelve, but the many who have responded to the example of love and grace that reconnects us to God and to the creative, life-giving power of the spirit.

That's where Jesus takes us, teaching us to be more of who we truly are, both the divine and human. Love God, love your neighbour as yourself, he says. The capacity to love and the desire for relationship, these are within us. Jesus calls us to live them out, to overcome the obstacles we place in our own way and the obstacles others put in theirs.

You may know people from history that are examples of that, whether they have St. in front of their name or not. The church has many examples and perhaps equally as many examples of the opposite, just like the world. You may know people in your life right now who are inspiring examples of good that are meaningful to you. You may be that to others.

The point is, look for the good. Look for the kindness, the generosity of spirit, the love and the grace. It’s not only in statues and stained glass. It may be hiding in plain sight.

Asking a Personal Question

“Who do you say that I am?” 

I wonder who Jesus was looking at when he asked his disciples this question. He’d already asked the easy one, what are the crowds saying. But now, he wanted their own view, their personal understanding of what he was all about. I imagine there was some shuffling feet, the sound of a few cleared throats and a few eyes staring at the ground.

But then, Peter has an answer. “You are the messiah.”

And communities of faith ever since have spent many long hours coming up with studies, statements and creeds that have tried to qualify what that means - as a community. And that’s helpful, but only if we understand that a community is a living thing that’s made up of individuals, each of whom is seeking a relationship with God.

So, who do you say that Jesus is?

If you were to ask me that question, I’d say that my answer has two parts.

First, today - and I say today because I’m alive, like Jesus, and I may grow - today, I say that, for me, Jesus is “God with us,” Emmanuel. I understand that, not in a way that shows us something new or a power that’s remote and unattainable, but in a way that shows us who we truly are and brings us back to our very beginning: we are created in the image of God and of the earth. We, too, are divine and human. Jesus shows us how to live into our divinity and humanity so that we may be wholely, fully, who we truly are.

Jesus reconnects us with God by showing us how God - the life and love of creation - is in each of our hearts. God isn’t just “out there,” but within each of us and we, too, can live that into the world.

I have so much more to say and, more importantly, do to answer that question, but I’m trying to be as succinct as Peter. The fact is, we answer the question in our living as much as in our words, and that can take a lifetime.

Second, I’d say “please tell me who you say Jesus is.” Speak to me from your heart about how you know God, with whatever language is meaningful for you. Show me how you know Jesus, ask questions and share with me a dialogue that allows us to travel together, though we walk our own journeys. Because God is with us and all are made one, not with sameness or uniformity, but in the respect of our diversity and the sharing of it.

So, please, answer the question for yourself, too and, just as good teachers always ask: show your work.

Practicing Faith

We are often so much like Jesus' first disciples in the early days.

They followed Jesus around, from place to place, listening to his teaching, seeing what he was doing, and doing their best to understand. And we, like them, it seems, often don't.

If only we had more faith.

That's what the disciples said to Jesus, "O Lord, increase our faith!" (Luke 17:5).

Somehow, they seem to think, we're just not getting it. But if you can make us more faithful, we're sure we can be the godly people you want us to be. Just make us more faithful.

You can just imagine Jesus slapping his palm to his forehead and sighing.

I don't make you faithful, he says, you make you faithful. There is faith in you already, like a little seed, but it is only grown by living it out. You can learn much, you can perform rituals and follow laws, but it's only when you live them out in your daily lives that you truly practice your faith. And that practice grows faith. (Luke 17:5-10)

I play the piano a bit now and then. Even if I don't play for awhile, I remember the mechanics I learned (some of them, anyway) and how to read the notes on the page, but that's not music. Music happens when all the mechanics and reading happen automatically, almost without having to think about it, because I've used them often enough. Music happens when you can step away from the techniques and skills and focus on the creation and experience of something more: the music. And that only comes with practice. 

We can go to church and bible study, learn and perform our rituals, just like the disciples, but faith is truly only lived when it becomes part of our daily living, like the air we breathe, the water we drink and the bread we eat. Faith is not a complex power that must be acquired, but rather a simple gift that must be put into action.