What do you see now?

Our church has a rainbow. In fact, it has several - probably more than several - but the most obvious one is the sidewalk to the front door. We repainted it this week. It’s been there awhile, it’s seen a lot of sun and rain, wind and snow, and it needed a little refreshing. Don’t we all, from time to time?

It’s bright and bold and makes a statement. And, like any statement, we know that people will see it how they see it and respond to it how they will.

And that’s okay.

We hope that you’ll know that, for our church, it’s a statement about welcome. We wouldn’t have put it on the way to our front door if it weren’t. We hope that people will see it as a statement about inclusiveness, an eye-catching way of saying anyone and everyone is welcome here. And when we say that, we mean “all the colours of the rainbow” everyone. And, more importantly, it’s not just about welcome, it’s that we mean to affirm and appreciate you for who you are, just as you are. We share these words when we gather: “all are welcome here, affirmed and appreciated just as we are, as we all are as children of God, regardless of age, gender, sexual orientation, culture, ability, economic or social circumstance —wherever we are on our journeys through life.” We believe in unity, not uniformity, and that means acknowledging, affirming and appreciating each person for who they are. It means loving as Jesus loves.

We hope that people will see the LGBTQ2S+ rainbow and we hope they know they’re welcome and safe here.

We hope that children will laugh and be inspired by it and know that the church is a happy and safe place for them, too.

We hope that people will be reminded of the ancient story of the Great Flood and remember that the rainbow is a sign of God’s covenant of life with us.

We hope that people will see that it’s creative and colourful and so are we.

We hope that people of any age will see it and smile and be reminded of the sense of wonder and beauty that we experience when we see a rainbow in the sky.

The point is, we hope that you will see something that is welcoming, affirming, heart warming, friendly and inspiring that speaks to you. Do you see what we mean?

Rest in wonder

I’d like to talk about sabbath for just a minute.

If you belong to a faith tradition that has a specific understanding of sabbath - a specific day, perhaps, with certain rituals or with clear rules about what you can and can’t do - I respect that. If you find meaning in that, please continue on, I don’t mean to challenge it. But I do have a couple of thoughts about what’s at the heart of sabbath.

When I think about the creation story in Genesis, I like to imagine God doing all that creating like an artist working in a bunch of different mediums, from the conception to the hands on work to the final touch ups. That all takes “six days” - whatever a day means to God - and then God takes a day and just admires how awesome it all is. God looks around and wonders how there’s a little bit of God in each and every stone and leaf, river and stream, fish and bird, elephant and platypus. And those human beings, well, God wonders, they’re just the coolest thing ever. Created in my own image, God thinks, full of love and promise.

Things happened after that, of course, but in those first moments was a connectedness, an embracing of the bond which is in all life. A moment of wholeness. The seventh day isn’t a day off, it’s the climax and culmination of all that creating, the celebration of the completeness of creation. God rests in wonder.

Then, when Moses leads the Hebrews out of Egypt, there’s an opportunity to reconnect. The people are learning what it means to be free, to be a community and a people on their way to the “promised land,” so God offers them ten sayings to help them. And in there is the day of rest, pretty high up, too, at number four. I imagine God hoping this is an opportunity for the people to understand they need to make time to reconnect with God, to rest in wonder, just like God.

And there’s this story about Jesus in Luke (there’s a few of these in the gospels),  about the leader of the synagogue chastising Jesus for doing work on the sabbath when he heals a woman, bent over by the weight of a broken spirit (Luke 13:10-17). Jesus replies that even on the sabbath, everyone unties their ox and donkey so that they’re free to get water that is essential to life.  How could it be less appropriate to free this woman from the bondage of her illness?

For Jesus, this moment of healing isn’t about physical infirmity, it’s about wholeness. It’s about being free from the bonds that keep this woman from the world, from being fully engaged with life.

Our lives can get very much like that, too. We get bound up by the work we do and the desires we have, the need to acquire things, the need to be always busy with work or play. Our spirits can bend and buckle under the weight of the world. Even a “day off” can be so full that we can’t find a real moment of freedom.

That’s what sabbath is. It’s freedom from the work of the world so that we can reconnect with God, wonder at God’s presence in creation, including us,  and rest in the wonder. It’s a moment of healing for our spiritual health, contentment and well being. It’s a moment of completeness that refreshes and renews us. A moment in which we break free of the things that bind us and reconnect with love, grace and wholeness.

It's more than an hour on Sunday

As far as I know, it’s been a long time since we offered "burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts" (Isaiah 1:11) as part of a religious service. We occasionally have a barbecue, but I don’t think that really counts. We have potluck lunches, too, but I’ve never seen anything burnt at those. I don’t think we’ve ever burned a pancake, even. 

Besides, while those are important and meaningful gatherings of the community, without any doubt, they’re not what would be considered “liturgy,” the rituals of a service of worship. That would be the prayers, songs, readings and rituals that are structured and offered in order to bring meaning and understanding to our faith, not just in that moment, but in the living out of our faith in our lives. 

Isn’t it?

In the Bible, the book of the ancient prophet Isaiah begins with a vision that goes something like this: God says that things just aren't right, Israel. "The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint" (Isaiah 1:5). Sure, God says, you worship me regularly, bring offerings and have these celebrations in my name, but what does it really mean to you? It just seems like a big show you put on and then go away and go back to lives full of sin, hurt, hate, judgement and cruelty. I'm so tired of it.

Who isn't? More than 700 years later, Jesus reminds people that they should not even come to make an offering if things aren't made right with others first (Matthew 5:24). And he tells stories about those who pray and act for show, but don't live out what those actions truly mean (Luke 18:10-14).

2000 years after that, many people are still wondering the same thing. When what we say and do in church isn't reflected in our lives, then we're no further ahead than the folks God had Isaiah or Jesus call out.

Sometimes it's not just about what's "right," it's about perception and judgement. We're often so much better at telling others what they're doing wrong or seeing the hypocrisy in their behaviour rather than our own. That’s not just church going folk, either, is it?

Health and wholeness come from connecting the spirit of worship and the spirit of daily life. However we know God and whatever name we call God, if we think that a few moments of prayer or even sitting through a three hour sermon are “doing our duty,” and that’s enough, well, we might want to read Isaiah again. If we think that we can offer God a little something special for an hour on Sunday and think that'll hold God until next time, well, we might want to read Isaiah again. God is “worshipped” by symbolic offerings only when they're symbolic of the depth of our sincerity in how we live. And the point of Jesus isn't about how we live in worship, it's how worship lives in our daily lives. 

I think any gathering of a community of faith should be engaging, meaningful and sincere. I think it should also teach and inspire. It should be an opportunity for us, as a community, to celebrate and to lament and to praise and to pray.  It should connect us with God and each other and the world. It should be something we carry into our daily lives.

Ready to meet Jesus

Are you prepared to meet Jesus?

That’s a loaded question. You might hear it like “ready to meet your maker” or a similar metaphor for the next life. Certainly, we’d like to feel we’re ready for meeting Jesus there. When our time comes. Whenever that is.

You might hear it as an allusion to the second coming. Jesus said he’d be back. Maybe not like the Terminator’s iconic “I’ll be back,” but it might raise a similar level of anxiety to hear that we should be ready for Jesus to return at “an hour you do not expect” (Luke 12:40). Whenever that is.

Both situations - the end of this life or the second coming - could be anxiety inducing since the question certainly makes it feel like either is imminent rather than eventual. The people who first heard Jesus talk about a “second coming” certainly thought it was soon. As time went on, it seemed like it could be anytime in the future, but, even with more time, there’s still no indication of when or how or where. What if I’m not ready? What does it even mean, to be ready? Ready for what, exactly?

Hang on a minute, though, and take a step back. What if Jesus didn’t mean either of those things? Remember, this is the one who was teaching us how to live the love, grace and goodness that’s in all living things, the one who tried to inspire us to see that we, too, are both of the earth and the divine spirit, the one who constantly tried to describe what he was about rather than specifically who he was. What if he meant all of that rather than just simply “me, this figure, Jesus?”

What if Jesus meant we should be ready to see all those things he is to us in the world around us, in the people we encounter? What if Jesus really meant that we need to be prepared to see love in our neighbour as well as be love to our neighbour. And everyone’s my neighbour, right? The easy to love and the hard to love, people just like us and people so different it might be a little scary. Wouldn’t that be meeting Jesus? How do you prepare for that?

When Jesus says things like keep your lamps lit or be dressed and ready for action or be ready to open the door for the master of the house when they come home (Luke 12:35-38), I think he’s just trying to say keep busy with living like I showed you: be a light for others, be ready to love and care and show grace to others and, most important of all, be open to the promise that all that Jesus is, is alive in you and the world around you. Keep an open heart and mind, give that possibility a chance, hope to meet it, encourage it and inspire it.

We are constantly meeting all that Jesus is. See it, make that connection and build relationships on it. Live it and make it an everyday occurrence, not a once in lifetime experience.

Now, go back to those two anxiety inducing moments where we started. Live well, you’ll be ready.

Are we there yet?

The title of our churches’ summer children’s program this year was Holy Moses! Each day of the week, we shared a story from the life of Moses, one of the most important figures in Hebrew scripture. Some were retellings of the story in the Bible and some imagined moments inspired by the story.

One of those stories imagined what it must have been like for the Hebrew people packing up and leaving Egypt. After all the “persuasion” needed to convince Pharaoh to let them go, when it finally was time, we wondered how the people were feeling. They’d been there so long none of them knew any life other than as a slave in Egypt. For better or worse (or much worse), it was their home. They’d lived with the hope that one day things would change, but it had been a very, very long time. Now they were leaving. Wouldn’t they have questions? Like, now what? Where are we going? How do we get there? Is it far? Will it take long? And, of course, what can we bring?

We imagined how Moses would have to explain that they were leaving in a hurry, they were walking (most of them, at least) and they wouldn’t be able to take anything but the most important things with them. After a lengthy list of requests of what they wanted to bring (some more ridiculous than others, of course - it was a story for children, after all) it came down to a little girl reminding them what was most important: we’ll have each other and our freedom. God is with us. “Any more questions?” asks Moses, and off they go.

The simple point we wanted to make with the story was that when you’re in the same place for a long time, you might collect stuff that you think is important. But what’s really important is living, free to be who we truly are, who we share our life with and how we share our life with others. That becomes the theme of the wilderness time: discovering those things and how to be a community together. And at the heart of that is God.

What was just as important was where the conversation after the story went. We talked about how hard it can be to let go when it’s the only thing you’ve known. Even when that thing might not have been a good place or a good experience or a positive part of our lives. We talked about how scary it can be to know that you have to move on but you don’t know exactly where you’re going. We talked about how that’s made much more difficult when it seems like you have to move quickly - too quickly. We talked about how you can be happy and excited as well as sad and scared all at the same time. We talked about how that’s okay, and where we might look to find support and care. We talked about where we find God in all this. And it brought us back to the little girl at the end of the story.

God is the love that creates, cares, inspires and brings life. We might experience that in people we meet, the creation we wonder at, and the simple sense of God’s presence - that we are not alone. 

You get where you're going with practice

There doesn’t seem to be any universal understanding of what exactly is the difference between perseverance and persistence. Even folks who claim “the dictionary definition” can’t agree on a dictionary or a definition. The best I can do is suggest to you that I think the difference maybe, might possibly, perhaps, be that persistence relates more to repeated action and perseverance to dedication to a belief or cause. I might throw in that persistence is more focused on the goal to be achieved, whereas perseverance is about the journey. Oh, and persistence tends towards shorter periods of time and perseverance to longer periods of time. But those are just my thoughts.

To be honest, I think they’re related anyway and I’m not sure that there’s that much difference in how we use them, particularly over the last few years of pandemic and now, in the world of its aftermath. I wonder if that isn’t because we almost invariably use persistence and perseverance in the context of what we need to overcome, the roadblocks and opposition that we see in our way.

Stick with it, keep calm and carry on, one foot in front of the other, we’ll get through this - there’s a host of encouraging words and slogans that we use. Encouraging, but still seeming to focus on the obstacles in our way, the hard experiences keeping us from “getting through.” Even little orphan Annie reminds us that “the sun’ll come up tomorrow … come what may.”

What if we could see persistence and perseverance in a different light?

A musician learns skills and techniques, but it’s only by putting them to use in constant practice that music is made. Similarly with artists, dancers, actors, writers, athletes in any sport. In fact, I’m having a hard time thinking of anything where constant practice doesn’t lead to something greater. 

But practice isn’t just repetition. It’s not just hammering away, sticking with it or getting through. Practice requires intention and engagement, a sincere desire to learn, a passion for what you practice and a willingness to go where the practice takes you. Obstacles aren’t battled, overcome or defeated, but engaged, embraced and incorporated into our journey, leading to a deeper and more wholistic life.

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus encourages his followers to be persistent in prayer. In response to a request to teach them how to pray, he offers them words we recognize as The Lord’s Prayer (we know it from Matthew’s version). But, as often as we share them together or offer them in private prayer, I wonder if we’re engaging them each time. I wonder if Jesus might ask if we’re just repeating the words or practicing prayer.

“First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament” isn’t a literal translation of scripture, but a new telling of the story in keeping with the oral traditions and cultural imagery of indigenous people. In Luke, the translators share that Jesus encourages his followers to keep “dancing” their prayers: “answers will come to the ones who ask, good things will be found by the ones who search for them, and the way will open before the ones who keep dancing their prayers.” More than repetition and movement, dance requires intention, engagement, an awareness of self and context, passion and spirit. It’s more than just a beautiful image or ritual, it’s a practice that invites the connection to the journey prayer takes us. However you dance, be persistent and see where it takes you.

Why tell the story?

The Good Samaritan isn’t the only Bible story that’s made its way into everyday - or near everyday - use. There are lots of characters, lots of phrases and stories that have become familiar, not for their place in the Bible, but their place in our everyday lives. All exemplary, but not all positive.

Look at Mary and Martha. The gospel of Luke shares a brief story about Jesus stopping at a village where he’s welcomed by Martha, apparently with the traditional hospitality of a first century Hebrew home. Martha bustles about busily, distracted by her household tasks, while her sister Mary just sits at Jesus feet and listens to him speak. Martha’s a little put out and asks Jesus to tell her to help him. His response is that Mary has chosen to focus on the only thing that’s really needed, while Martha is distracted from it by her work. Apparently.

Marys are dutiful disciples. Marthas are, at best, industrious and hard workers. They’re also the caste of household servants in Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.” They’ve also, in many a sermon, born the brunt of making the wrong choice.

That’s assuming, of course, that you see this little vignette as an either/or moment, where one is in the right and one, well, not so right. Listening to the teachings of Jesus are more important than the work of our daily lives. 

What a useful scripture passage that would be for pastors! It sure seems as if Jesus is saying “whatever you’re doing that you think is so important, it’s not really. What’s really important is listening to the Good News from Jesus.” So, get thee to a church on Sunday morning!

But is that really the point?

Personally - and I know I’ve said it a lot - I don’t see Jesus as an either/or kind of guy. I think Jesus is an and/with. At the very least, I think Jesus means to say that, in this moment, I’d rather you stop working and visit with me, but I see that the work of hospitality is important. In fact, we need both and need to make time for both. “Look at my life,” Jesus would say, “look at my life.”

The word and the work need each other. There must be time for learning, for reflection, for rest, just as there is time for the hard work of healing, showing compassion, working for justice and helping the oppressed and broken down. Remember how we are all created with the divine spirit and of the earth?

And maybe the issue isn’t really the work itself anyway, it’s the distraction, how it’s overwhelmed Martha. Perhaps the real point here isn’t just the need for both, but the balance of both and the integration of both. That’s what makes wholeness in our lives.

Our lives. That’s another great feature of this story. It’s not two of the chosen disciples that are made an example. Neither is it two unnamed random characters who demonstrate it. It’s not a parable. It’s an encounter between Jesus and two women, they have names and they are family. The balance of word and work doesn’t just bring wholeness to our selves, but to our relationships, to our families, and to our world.