It's A Long Road

There’s so much conflict in the world. Everywhere. Globally, between nations, within nations, in communities, between individuals, even within individuals. So much conflict. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if there could just be peace?

Of course it would. And, though it might not feel like it lately, there are moments, many moments. But peace can’t be imposed, it has to be built and to build it is a long journey of engagement, with empathy and understanding overtaking apathy and fear. Peace doesn’t just happen, it’s made.

I think that’s what Jesus is getting at when he says things like “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword …” and that he’s come to set family members against each other (Matt. 10:34-36). I don’t for a moment think Jesus is advocating hostility or violence, but acknowledging there will be conflict on the journey to peace. The question is whether or not we make that conflict constructive or destructive.

It sure seems like we’re good at destruction. Defensiveness and hate come easily with fear and ignorance. Having power over others is a simpler means to an end, however that power is manifested, and with the right power, what one person wants can overwhelm what others need. Difference can turn to disagreement that turns to a battle full of hateful words, destructive behaviour and damaging consequences and the possibility of peace seems extinguished. But there’s another way.

In that same passage from Matthew, Jesus goes on to say that those who choose to put their own family ahead of me, Jesus, those that are comfortable with things as they are and don’t want to rock the boat and those that are unwilling to follow me, Jesus, will find nothing more than what they have. They won’t have the wholeness of life with me, Jesus. 

But what if you read that again and instead of the name Jesus, you substituted what Jesus is all about. And, instead of the family and rocking the boat, you understood that Jesus meant the structured society and systemic injustice that maintains it. Then you’d hear Jesus making the point that there is another way to peace, to the heaven on earth that he says is so near.

That way is to engage difference and conflict with love, with empathy, respect, justice, compassion and understanding. That way is to journey together, not in competition with each other, but with care, support and encouragement. That way is to build a covenant, not negotiate a deal. A covenant in which we work together, share, and build something new: a world working towards wholeness, of people, of relationships and of community.

That’s a long journey, especially when not every one is on the same road or willing to travel the same way. I think Jesus knows that. I think Jesus knows that there will be successes and failures, joy and grief, life and death. I think Jesus also knows that the journey is always about living into life, not living towards death, and that’s where we will find wholeness. “The road goes ever on and on” - J.R.R. Tolkien.

Jesus Knew What He Was Looking For

Jesus chose twelve people to be his closest disciples. There were many other followers,  disciples and apostles, but it seems there were twelve that were the “inner circle.” Twelve, just like the number of tribes in Israel. The gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke list the their names, as does the Book of Acts. The gospel of John doesn’t, though it mentions most of them individually at some point.

We know some better than others. We might know their story of being invited to join the band, we might learn about their character as they journey with Jesus or in the days after his departure, spreading the word, teaching, preaching and being Jesus in the world.

Why these people, though?

As far as the story goes, there was no job description, no request for applications and resumés were not required. Jesus didn’t seem to have any criteria and he didn’t seem to be looking for specific skills or a particular education. The ones who’s occupations we know were not particularly useful, although the fishermen made for a memorable metaphor. So did he know what he was looking for? Did he randomly pick just anyone?

It’s pretty easy to say well, it’s Jesus. The Son of God “knows.” Attributing it to divine knowledge is a traditional response, but it’s also one that doesn’t really help us. And I think Jesus is all about helping us.

I think Jesus did know what he was looking for, I just think it wasn’t divine foreknowledge, it was something very human that he saw in the moment.

We might tend to focus on how Jesus constantly demonstrates empathy for the marginalized, the broken, the hurting and the grieving. The fact is, Jesus has empathy for everyone. I think Jesus saw honest, authentic people and saw the potential in them, especially the potential for an open heart and an inclination to connecting with that divine spirit that is in all of us. He saw that in the people he chose.

I imagine he saw that in many people, so maybe he was looking for more. Maybe he was also looking for a willingness to let go. Not just that they would drop everything, leave their jobs and their families and follow him - they do that in the story - but that they would let go of the traditions and structures that box us in and be able to imagine and learn something new. Something we once knew and is new again: that God is with us and in us and we are part of the divine spirit that is in all creation, connected by love and capable of living love into the world.

Learn. That’s the key part of that. Jesus wasn’t looking for people who were already there. He was looking for people whose journey would not only inspire them, but others as well. He looked for promise and potential, not certainty and perfection. He chose people he knew would stumble (we all do), but that he knew would get up and step out again.

When we talk about being Jesus, this is part of being Jesus. Not just that we would be true to our authentic selves and be open and loving and offer grace and compassion, but that we would look for it in others and help them find their way to living it.

Love is in it

I imagine that ministers - or pastors, priests or by whatever title they’re known - have a few fears. I know I do. And yes, I also know that I constantly remind people that the words most often said by Jesus in the Bible are “don’t be afraid.” I know that God is there, but I’m also just as human as you and sometimes I’m afraid, especially when those fears happen.

I’m sure I can’t be alone in being afraid that I won’t be there when I’m needed. We all might know that one, it’s pretty human and we’re all human. More about that in a moment.

It became real for me this past week. I was away in another part of the country when someone decided to welcome Pride month by smearing tar and eggs on the rainbow sidewalk that has been part of our church in Ponoka for several years now. First time this has happened. And I wasn’t there.

Here’s the thing, though, the thing about God being present when we’re experiencing the fear that we’re not. Members of our community stepped up. It was reported to the RCMP, it was cleaned up and repainted and when the media wanted to report on it, there were people to speak to them. Thanks to social media, I was able to contribute a statement, but others were there in person. I’m sure God was there when Graham Boyes told the media that “I'm glad that the people who did this targeted us, and not an actual at-risk person because sidewalks can be repainted.” I’m just as sure God was there when people of all ages were doing the painting. And the rainbow’s brighter than ever.

I wish I’d been there, but I couldn’t have done better than those that were and I’m grateful to them for that. I’m grateful for the many messages of support and encouragement the church received. I’m also grateful to God for all that and grateful for the reminder that God is there, inspiring people, connecting people and moving people to be what they’re meant to be: love.

Listen, there’s a lot of hate out there. There’s probably just as much written about why we hate and I’m sure it’s all practical, well reasoned and logical. But hate isn’t. It’s born in fear and ignorance, wilful and not. I believe we’re born in love, of love and wired for love. We give in to fear, we know hurt, we tire of learning and we close our hearts and shy away from relationships. But the love is still there. It’s the power of life, creativity, inspiration and compassion. And it’s still there.

Jesus shows us that. Jesus shows us that love is in us and around us and we are capable of living into the world. Just like Jesus. The divine spirit of love is in us - it’s what gives us life - just as it’s in the earth from which we come. It connects us and binds us to each other. The apostle Paul, in his writings, says we’re collectively just like a body, a body that needs all its parts - emphasis on all - and needs them all to be healthy in order for us to be whole. Wholly human and wholly humanity. 

That means all of us. We’re all connected, even when we try so hard to not acknowledge that. Love will help us. Love will inspire us. Love wins.

A Pastoral Response to Suicide

There are a lot of people struggling. Some have chosen to end their life and their friends and loved ones have questions. All of us should, really. Recently, I was asked to share a few thoughts about religion’s response to suicide. I don’t feel that I can speak for religion. I can only say what my faith tells me. This is what my heart says.

I would never presume to know what’s in the mind and heart of someone who takes their own life. Nor would I think I could judge them for it after they’re gone. There are religious traditions that do, but they are not mine.

Mine says that God is love. God is the spirit of creativity and life. God offers grace and forgiveness for all. All. When Jesus says we should love everyone as we love ourselves, Jesus doesn’t say there are exceptions. All means all. I believe that means we all return to God. Yes, return. I think we come from God and return to God when this earthly life is done, no matter how it is done.

Even if you believe that God is some grand celestial being, you cannot teach that we believe in a God who loves all and, in Jesus, forgives all and then suggest that there are those who can’t be forgiven and there’s a place for them called hell. And by the way, when we do that, it’s us that are judging them here, not God. You cannot teach that it is God who judges and then speak in judgement for God. I don’t believe that any of us have that power.

Even if you want to suggest that the Bible says suicide is wrong, that argument rests mostly on the sixth commandment (and lesser texts in Hebrew law), which is that you will not murder. And you’re arguing that suicide is murdering oneself. First of all, again, breaking the Law isn’t beyond God’s love and forgiveness. It may be beyond our’s, but that’s not ever the same thing. Second, as Jesus repeatedly points out, it’s what’s at the heart of the law that is most important. And what’s at the heart of the law is to cherish all life, to care for it and, as Jesus often says, to try and bring heaven to this life. What should be more concerning is what, in this life, might have brought someone to suicide.

You cannot teach that we believe in a God who knows what’s truly in our hearts and not know that God’s heart breaks with ours when someone ends their life. But, while we might struggle with our thoughts and feelings or worse, judge people for what they chose to do, God simply embraces them and welcomes them home.

Can You Feel The Spirit?

Do you feel like you could use a little extra spirit right now? A little energy, some creativity or imagination, maybe some patience, but certainly some inspiration? Have I got a deal for you.

Pentecost is an important day in the church. It sounds like it ought to be expensive, with a name like that, but it’s actually all about something that’s priceless. And free.

The name on the day simply means fifty. For Christians, it’s fifty days after Easter, but for the Jewish characters in the story of the day, it’s the festival of Shavuot, a harvest festival that occurs fifty days after the first day of Passover. After Jesus leaves the disciples for the last time (the Ascension story), he tells them to go to Jerusalem, which is where they find themselves on the day of Pentecost.

As the story goes, they experienced a rushing wind and then tongues of flame appear over their heads and they were “filled with the Holy Spirit.” They find they can now speak in the languages of the various diverse nationalities of the people around them, sharing the story of Jesus, his life and teachings, the good news of God’s love and grace. It’s the fulfilment of Jesus’ promise that they will be “baptized” with the Spirit and be empowered to show the world all that they learned from him. 

This is why we often call Pentecost the birthday of the church, because it’s the beginning of the spread of the message. Whether a literal language experience or a metaphor, the disciples were able to communicate in a way that made people feel “at home” with the message and relate to it.

That, in itself, is a pretty powerful story. But I feel we tend to tell it like the Spirit was was something that happened to them, that the spirit is in the wind and fire. I wonder about that. I wonder also how others “caught the Spirit” after that initial dramatic moment. Did they catch it from the disciples or did the disciples have to hand it over in some way? Was there more wind and fire?

Let me just gently “what if” this for a moment.

What if the Spirit was already in them, just as it’s already in us. What if the mighty rushing wind is the breath of fresh air, the surge of hope that cleans out all of the crap in our lives that gets in the way of us realizing that and knowing the Spirit that’s in our hearts and minds and hands. What if the tongues of flame were like the light bulb that goes on over our heads when we realize something in a cartoon, the moment of enlightenment or realization that the Spirit is in us and enlivening us. We’re suddenly - and sometimes not-so-suddenly - aware.

What if the message was so readily shared with others because what they connected with was the passion and authenticity of the disciples truth-telling. What if, in this moment, the words didn’t get in the way of the message. Remember that wind that blew? Maybe it blew away the need for my thoughts or my words or my way and  left only the way. What if the awareness of the spirit in each other allowed for language to be just a means for what is true to be heard, for it to be a means to “home,” a means to reach out, one heart to another, and what if hearts were listened to.

Where does the wind need to blow in your life? What would light your spirit “on?” Listen to your heart. It’s free.

Remind Me Again

We’re coming to the end of the season of Easter this week. So, “what’s next?” you might ask. Well, we have a calendar that says some of the most important days in the church year are ahead: Ascension, Pentecost, Trinity. (“What’s that?” might be your next question.) There’s a few other things the church added to be more relevant and contemporary. You probably have a few plans of your own and, if we consider what’s going on in the world as well, then that “what’s next?” could be starting to sound a little bit frustrated or fearful.

I imagine that’s where Jesus’ closest followers found themselves as he leaves them for the last time. The very last time.

There’s a story in the Bible that, after the resurrection, the now very much alive Jesus didn’t die again, but was simply carried up into heaven on a cloud, returning to God. He ascended into heaven (hence, The Ascension). The language of “ascension” is used in a few places, but the story itself appears only at the end of the gospel of Luke and the beginning of the Book of the Acts of the Apostles. These are thought to be by the same author and seen as the story of Jesus (the gospel) and the story of what his followers did after he left (Acts), spreading the word and beginning to build the church. The ascension story is the bridge.

You might imagine the ascension as something suitably epic: a great cloud (remember the cloud was Bible-speak for the presence of God) lifts him up (remember in those days there was a very hierarchical understanding of the cosmos and heaven was definitely up), there may have been thunder or trumpets or something spectacular and showy. But I don’t think that’s the point.

As that final scene unfolds, I imagine Jesus telling them, once again, that it’s up to them now. He’s shown them everything they need to know, he’s promised them the power of the Spirit to help them and he tells them it’s time for them to go and be witnesses to their own communities and to the world. He’s passing them the baton - the spirit baton, if you like - and it’s up to them now. And then he heads off. 

Or he tries to. It seems like the disciples still don’t get it. So, you’re the messiah, they say, right? When will you be restoring the kingdom of Israel then, like we think the messiah’s supposed to?

I don’t think Jesus is frustrated that they still need direction. I think he knows that we’ll always need reminding. We’ll always need reminding that the spirit is in us and that we can be all that Jesus showed us we can be if we’d just stop looking outside ourselves and instead look in our hearts and live good into the world.

Still not done, the story gives us one more reminder. Two figures like angels appear as the disciples stare up at the sky after Jesus departure, lost in wonder or worship. “Why are you standing around staring,” they say, “get on with it.” And they do and the spirit is with them and it’s not organized, structured and ritualized, but chaotic, personal and real. Isn’t that just like the spirit?

A Spirit in Need

I’d like you to just pause for a moment and wonder about something.

Spirit. I think there’s a part of our individual being that’s spirit. Name it something else, if you wish, but there’s a part of our wholeness of being that isn’t physical or mental and I’m going to call it spirit. I can tell you where I think it comes from before this life and where it goes after, but that’s my own belief and right now I’m just interested in what we’re doing with it here.

I’ve said this before, I know, but I’m trying to remove any sense of religion from it for a moment. Yes, I know I used the word “spirit,” but I’m confident that’s not exclusively a religious word anymore. There was certainly a time when we thought the two were interchangeable, but we’ve grown from that and I think we can make a distinction: spirit is the life force or energy that’s in living things, it powers living things and connects them; religion is an outside structure, created by human beings, with rituals, language and places that we hope helps us engage our spiritual nature, connect it to the wholeness of our being and informs how we might use it in the world.

As all religious institutions in Canada are experiencing a steep decline in participation, it might be worth stepping back from our religious traditions and structures for a minute - as hard as that may be - and wonder about what our spirits need. Because our spirits are in real need.

Sure, many churches are trying to be more contemporary, more relevant. But I wonder if we’re still locked into denominations and structures that enshrine religion over spirit. Maybe what’s needed is a whole new mindset, one that tries to let go of being inside the house of religion and instead looks at spirit with the freedom of those outside the system. 

I hear that in the apostle Paul’s speech to community leaders in Athens. There’s a story in the Bible, in the Acts of the Apostles (a continuation of Luke’s gospel that records the earliest days of the followers of Jesus after he leaves). Paul sees all the temples and shrines to the Greek gods. The Greeks had pretty much a god for everything and, just in case they missed one, they even had a temple for “an unknown” god. You don’t want to be missing one, even by accident.

When Paul speaks, he doesn’t begin with chastising them for their beliefs, he begins with acknowledging them. “I see how extremely spiritual you are in every way,” he says. At least, it depends on the translation: some say “religious.” And I think Paul meant religious, because he goes on to tell them about the one God who has been from the beginning - not many gods for many things, but one God for all things - and he tells them that God doesn’t live in shrines or temples. He tells them that God isn’t served by ritual and human constructs. He tells them that in God “we live and move and have our being.” Our very being is in God. That’s the spirit.

It’s hard to let go. Harder still to find a new way. We might, as Paul also says, need to fumble about a bit looking for God. We might even find God. The spirit is always willing.