It's good

Do you wonder about the beginning?

I love the creation story in Genesis.  Stories, I guess, since there's more than one.  I love the creation stories, but I don't love the arguments.  You know, the creation versus science arguments.  Personally, I don't think they're exclusive, I think they're complimentary, but that's for another time.  The question I'm asking isn't about knowing facts and understanding how things work, it's about wonder.

Each day, God created a piece of this awesome universe, noting, as any great artist would, that it was good.  And after "six days" of work - a substantial enough shift, considering all that was built - "God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good" (Gen.1:31).  Then, God rested.

Do you take time to wonder how "good" the world is?  I think that's the key to our role as stewards of creation.  It's not just that God says that we should take care of the earth, it's that our relationship with the earth - as a part of the great creation - includes that we, created in the image of God, take time to wonder that it is "good."  Not merely useful or pretty, but good.

It's pretty easy to get bogged down in things like the order in which God created or the time frame.  But what's really important is that all that was created was created in relationship to each other.  And that's good.  In fact, the web of creation is pretty awesome.

That's another reason why we need to take the time to wonder at how "good" it really is - each strand of the web, each piece of creation needs, and is needed by, another.  Except us, some scientists believe.  They think that the world would get on just fine without human beings, since no part of creation really needs us.

So why are we here?

To love.  That's our role as stewards of the earth, to love it.  That's our purpose with each other and with God, to love.  That means respect and care, to take only what we need and give back whatever we are able that nurtures and supports, to be aware of the needs of the earth and each other as much as ourselves. 

That's good.  Now take a moment to rest and wonder at how good that really is.

What are you thinking?

I know I said that my blog would be my weekly early ruminations on the lectionary text for the week, but I wanted to talk about this.  It may seem a little off track - and a couple days late - but it's all part of the journey, isn't it?  And this week's gospel reading is the story of the disciples who meet Jesus on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35).  Seems to me it fits.  Well, you decide.

Some of the churches in our local Presbytery, or region, of the United Church of Canada got together last week for a workshop called Unstoppable Church.  Mostly, we called it that after the organization that led it, Unstoppable Conversations.  But I think many of us hoped - and do hope - that our churches might be inspired to be just that: unstoppable.

A key part of the method that opens up these "unstoppable conversations" is the idea that we need to change our thinking.  I know, heard it before, right?  But what that usually means is different solutions for the problem we think we have: everything focuses on the problem and what the solution will be.  But that's not what Unstoppable Conversations does.  They offer no solutions to any problems.  Instead, they focus on the thinking behind the actions we take to address an issue.  Transforming that thinking is what creates positive action that achieves something.

It's not about changing how we act, it's about changing how we think.  That's what makes transformation happen.  So we did an exercise where we identified some key issues or circumstances in our churches and the actions (or lack of action) that lead to them.  Then we considered what some of the root thinking might be behind that and we came up with some pretty simple things: I'm flawed; No one can do it as well as me; They don't care; What are people gonna think; They might rock the boat; Why do I have to do it; Why don't they like me; They'll say no; I'm too busy; There's not enough; and I'm not loved.

That's pretty depressing, isn't it?  But then we made a list of the "New Thinking" that we'd like to replace that old thinking with, and it looked like this: We are love; We have value; Technology works; Willing to risk; I have courage; We have intelligence; Accept Opportunities; Open minded; We have enough; Be grateful; Respect; Commit to something; We are unique; Be inclusive; Christ-like; Unconditional.

That's an awesome list of "New Thinking."  And yet, it seems oddly familiar.  To me, it's the themes that permeate our message each and every week in church.  To me, it's the message of Jesus.  So why is it our list of "New Thinking" - shouldn't it already be our thinking?

Well, yes, it should.  But here's one of my little epiphanies from this weekend: do people attending churches hear, or, better still, experience a message about new life, about how we live, with ourselves, each other and God, or do people simply hear us telling them how to act (often with an "or else")?  Because church isn't about how you act, it's about how you live.  Authentically and genuinely how you live.

I Believe

In the days and weeks after that first Easter morning, the gospels tell stories of Jesus appearing to people, showing them that he was truly alive.  Each story has its own “recognition” moment, especially the story about Thomas, the disciple who wouldn’t believe until he had proof.

I'm not doubting the text, but I wonder just what it is that he will not believe.

Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus first appeared to the other disciples.  And when they told him they had seen Jesus, he refused to believe them.  He needed to see Jesus for himself, touch the wounds of his death and hear his voice.  And when he does, he acknowledges Jesus as “my Lord and my God!”  “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” says Jesus (John 20:28-29).  Encouragement for us all. 

  

Poor Thomas.  He quickly became known as Doubting Thomas.  But, hang on, what is it exactly that he doesn't believe?  Their story that they'd seen Jesus?  Because none of the other disciples believed it had happened either, it seems, until Jesus appeared to them.

Each of the gospel stories include this feature of unbelief until Jesus appears.  So why single out poor Thomas, the Doubter who was not strong enough to believe? 

Wait, that's wrong.  It should be, why single out brave Thomas, the Questioner who was strong enough to wonder?

Thomas wondered how it could be that Jesus was physically alive.  Just like Thomas wondered earlier in John's gospel about where Jesus was going.  In the well-known passage in which Jesus tells the disciples that in God’s house are many dwelling places and that he goes ahead to prepare a place for us, he tells them that they know the way.  It’s Thomas who says no, they don’t, and asks Jesus “how can we know the way?”  He replies “I am the way, and the truth and the life” (John 14:1-7).

I wonder where Thomas was when Jesus appears to the rest of the disciples who are hiding in fear behind a locked door.  Why wasn't he with them?  I doubt (there's that word again) he went for groceries.  The gospel doesn't say, but I like to think he was the only one brave enough to be outside, trying to find out what was happening.  And why was it a whole week before Thomas was with them again?  I like to wonder if maybe he was out talking to people about Jesus, getting on with living the life that Jesus had taught him to live through his own life.  Maybe Jesus was already alive for Thomas.

I don't think that questioning their story - that Jesus might be physically alive - moved Thomas away from Jesus, but closer to him, closer to the Truth of what Jesus was about.  When Thomas questions, it prompts wisdom and truth from Jesus that brings us closer to God, too.

And isn't that the point?  Like I said, it doesn't say much in the story about Thomas or what he was doing.  But what is revealed to Thomas, and to us, is that essential truth: "blessed are those who have not seen and yet come to believe" (John 20:29).

The message of Easter is that Jesus is alive.  Do you believe it?  Why?

Is it because the Bible tells me so?  Because it does and, to quote Anna Warner, it also tells me that Jesus loves me and that Jesus teaches me how to live fully and wholely.

Is it because we can see Jesus alive in the people around us and in their relationships with us and others?

Is it because we know Jesus is alive in ourselves?  That's often the hardest one to embrace - Jesus loves me, yes, but Jesus is in me, too.

Is it because Jesus is alive, as the Word is alive, as God is alive in what is true and genuine: love, grace and compassion for all?

We can see, Jesus, we can see.

Death is not the end

My sisters send Lori and I cards for most every holiday and our birthdays.  They're good at that.  They remember stuff like that.  And they find the best cards ever, always funny or beautiful, always appropriate.

We just got their Easter card.  It's crazy funny (if you have a sense of humour like mine …).  The card was great, but what they wrote on the inside was even better: "some cards are worth repeating, like Easter itself!"  They thought that they had already sent this one sometime in the past, I guess.  I certainly didn't remember it, but, like I said, they're really good at this card thing.

Or they knew that I'd appreciate the deeply insightful theological commentary that's right in tune with my thinking this Easter.

It's worth repeating.  Oh, yes it is.

Let's put aside the chocolate, the eggs, the bunnies, the big dinners, even the great cards, for a minute.  You know, all those things that we use to celebrate "The Day" we call Easter.  Let's tell the story.

Only days after being welcomed to Jerusalem by adoring crowds, Jesus is suddenly, shockingly, unbelievably dead, killed in a cruel and humiliating manner.  His closest followers are in hiding, fearful for their own lives, grieving the end of their life with Jesus.  But it's not the end.  After the sabbath, Mary says she's seen Jesus alive, others say the tomb was empty and then Jesus appears to all the disciples.  He's alive, just as he promised.  And Jesus' followers tell the story and share his teaching - his life - with everyone they can.

There's more to explore in the story, there always is.  But this is the part that most bears repeating: death isn't the end of the story.  The disciples certainly thought so.  So did the Jewish authorities, the Roman authorities, the crowd that called for his death - everyone who thought about it at all, thought is was all over.  Jesus was dead.

But death isn't the end of the story.  The power of the resurrection story is that there was death and it wasn't the end.  That bears repeating, just as it is, because by knowing what "was" in the story, we know what "is" in our lives.

In our own lives, we experience hurt, grief and pain.  We experience the sudden shock of loss, crushing and dispiriting.  We experience moments of "crucifixion."  No matter how others might regard or value them, we know those moments for the feeling we experience.

  

But that's not the end.

Jesus says "I am the resurrection and the life" - am, not just was or will be - and offers life in, and after, each of those life challenging and life changing moments.  In our own moments of "crucifixion," we find life rising out of death.  Or loss or sorrow or grief or fear.  Jesus shows us the way to new life, not just in his death and resurrection, but in his life.  Life comes from living as Jesus taught us to live.  That bears repeating, too.

New Story

Let's be clear: Lazarus is not a zombie.  At least, I don't think Lazarus is a zombie.

Now hang on a minute.  If you already know the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, you might find that thought silly, if not downright offensive.  But if you haven't read John 11:1-45, or you're hearing it for the first time, and you're a child of this era of Night of the Living Dead, Zombieland, The Walking Dead or even Shaun of the Dead, you might be tempted to hear it that way.

Or even Jesus.  Yes, I know.  But not that long ago I had a conversation with a young man who insisted that the story of Jesus' resurrection reads pretty much like he was a zombie: body was gone from the tomb, he's seen walking around and he still has the wounds of his death.  I'm pretty sure he was kidding.  Though, I'm a little concerned that he thinks zombies may be real…

Still, the story of Lazarus challenges us a bit.  He was dead, now he isn't.  Even his sister Martha wondered about what condition he was in, saying - in a way that only the King James version can - "Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days."  But Jesus calls him out and tells them to unwrap him from his burial clothes and let him go.  

There was a crowd that saw what happened and this is the point, according to John, that the pharisees decided Jesus must die.  Not just Jesus, Lazarus too, because people want to see this guy who was brought back from the dead.  And that's attracting attention to Jesus.

And how could he not?  He was dead and buried.  He even "stinketh."  And yet, here he is reanimated, having dinner with Jesus, John says.  What is it that zombies eat, I wonder?

Okay, let's stop the silliness.  Or, rather, foolishness.  Jesus didn't just reanimate Lazarus.  We're not talking about "not dead," we're talking about life.  Jesus gives life.

Yes, yes, yes, you say, I know, I've heard all this before.  And yes, you have.  Perhaps.  But that's precisely the point of this moment in the story of Jesus: no one had heard this before.

Think about that for a moment.  Sure, everyone knew the idea of the resurrection of the dead, eventually.  It's one of the things that divided the hebrew leaders as pharisees (yes, there was) and sadducees (no, there wasn't).  But this isn't that. "Jesus said to her, 'Your brother will rise again.'  Martha said to him, 'I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.'"  Yes, of course, that's precisely what she knows.  But then Jesus says "I am the resurrection and the life.  Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." (John 11:23-26)

Here's Jesus again saying "I am."  This isn't something for the future, it's something for now.  Jesus brings life - now.  That's new.

We've heard it all before.  The Good News is old news.  But to Martha and Mary and all those who witnessed Jesus give Lazarus life, this is something new.  For all those who heard and were attracted to Jesus by this miracle of new life, this is something new.

Is it still new for us?  And if it isn't, how will we tell this story that we might understand how "new" it always is?

Maybe thinking about zombies for a minute isn't so silly after all.  Think of how many people might better understand that simply being "un-dead" is not the same as living.  The life Jesus brings is full of love and grace and compassion.  It embraces everyone for who they are and everything with the respect every created thing deserves.  It's a life of wholeness and fullness.  It's alive!

Journey of believing

I'm going to begin with a declaration.  Come with me and I'll tell you one of the ways I got there.  Here it is: I don't want to be part of a church that claims to have all the answers.  I want to be part of a church that claims answers may be found there.

There's a difference.  Here's why.

The story of Jesus giving sight to a man born blind is found in John's gospel, chapter 9.  It's long.  It's really long for a single story in the gospels.  That's also what makes it so important.

The story opens with the healing miracle.  Jesus and the disciples encounter a man blind from birth, prompting a disciple to ask why the man was blind, was it some sin of his or his parents?  (The belief that a physical disability is a punishment from God is ancient.  It would be nice to think that we don't hold to that belief anymore, but that understanding isn't universal.  Even the language we use - dis-abled rather than differently abled - reflects that.)  But Jesus says that it's neither, it's "so that God’s works might be revealed in him."  And he proceeds to give him sight.  There's way more to it than that - read the story in John 9.

Jesus then disappears, leaving the man to be questioned by others, especially the pharisees.  They question his parents, too, and eventually determine to cast him out from the synagogue.  That's right, Jesus gives him the thing that he was marginalized without and he's cast out again, for that, this time.  Hearing what happened, Jesus seeks him out, identifies himself and asks him if he believes in "the Son of Man."  Finally, in verse 38 of 41, he says "I believe."  Did I mention it's a long story?

And it's a complex story which raises lots of questions, about sin, insight and outward sight, healing and belief amongst other things.  It's not just about the metaphor of seeing, do you see?  It's about a journey.  When Jesus says that "God's works might be revealed in him," he doesn't mean the miracle of physical sight, he means the journey the man will travel to believe in "the Son of Man."  And it's a challenging journey.

The healing miracle that begins the journey is different than other such stories in the gospels.  The man doesn't seek Jesus out and request it, nor does Jesus ask the man's permission, nor is the man's healing a result of his own faith.  The man doesn't seem to know Jesus or anything about him.  And he is given the gift of sight.

When asked, he doesn't know where Jesus is, he doesn't know who Jesus is.  Before long, he believes Jesus to be a prophet because of what he can do but still, he does not know how, only that he was blind and now he can see.  And when Jesus asks him if he believes, he still does not recognize Jesus as "the Son of Man" until Jesus tells him it is he.

His "I believe" is still just the beginning of his journey.  As it is ours.

Transformation is messy, complex and convoluted sometimes.  It can mean gaining friends and losing them, gaining new life and losing it, it can mean understanding and confusion, it can mean questions with answers and questions with just more questions.

This man's life is transformed by meeting Jesus that day, as ours can be, too.  And our journey to believing in God may also mean that there are times when we wonder where Jesus is and times when we see Jesus clearly, times when we think we have an answer and times when we have only wonder, times when we have doubt and times when we know.

Maybe.  At the conclusion of this story, Jesus reminds us that there are those who's certainty blinds them to understanding - they think they see clearly and yet don't understand.  It's the pharisees, of course.  Or is it us?

That's why I would like to travel the journey with others, to be in a community relationship where we can all benefit from our questions and doubts, answers and understanding.  That's why I don't want to be part of a church that claims to have all the answers.  I want to be part of a church that claims answers may be found there.

Come Closer

Isn't it funny sometimes how the very images and metaphors we think are helping us to understand something can help to distance us from it, too.

I'm wondering about the story of Jesus meeting a woman at a well.  He's been travelling with the disciples and, as they've headed off in search of food from the nearest town, Jesus sits down by a well.  A woman comes to draw water and he asks her for a drink.  There's a long list of reasons why, in those days, he shouldn't have been doing that.  And that's part of the point, he speaks to someone he shouldn't and she shouldn't be speaking with him.  But they do.  And, as he had asked her for water because he was thirsty, he offers her "water," the water of life.  “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.  The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life" (John 4:13-14).  Jesus is the water of life, life-giving to the spirit and quenching the thirst of the soul.  As he seems to know who she truly is, she comes to know that he is the messiah.  So she leaves the well and goes to tell others in her town about this "water of life" and they come also to see Jesus.

Here's two important images: Jesus talks to someone he shouldn't and they talk about the water of life.  How shall we think about them?

Why shouldn't Jesus speak to this woman?  Well, she was a Samaritan and, historically, Jews didn't associate with Samaritans.  Period.  And she was a woman and, historically, hebrew men did not speak to women alone.  Period.  And, as Jesus reveals, she's had five husbands and currently lives with a man who's not her husband.  That's been interpreted a lot of ways, but, historically, he shouldn't be talking to her about it.  Period.  And she's at the well at noon by herself which is usually interpreted as she's been ostracized by her community, so, again, he shouldn't be approaching her.  Period.

Great, so it's pretty clear after all those periods that he shouldn't be talking to her.  But what does all that mean to us?  If we put this story in our contemporary context, how would we describe this person?  More to the point, instead of a stereotype, think for a minute of who we would set apart or ostracize.  Why?  What would make them so unapproachable, so set apart?  And so broken.

Yes, broken.  Because that's what this woman is.  We don't really know her back story, but we do know it seems to be full of broken relationships, both with individuals and community.  We know that when Jesus offers her the refreshment he offers, she embraces it and shares it with others - she evangelizes and brings others to see Jesus.

And she brings them to him for this special "water of life."  Isn't water a powerful image?  We need water to live.  We're made of water (between 45 and 75% based on age, gender and body type).  The things we eat need water.  The world needs water.

But how do we, where we live, perceive that need?  Our water comes from a tap.  We're surrounded by oceans, lakes and rivers and all the water in creation.  We bottle water to make it more easily transportable and because it "tastes better."  Few of us know the struggle of having to travel to a well daily, carrying what we need, and many are more likely to consume water as an ingredient in a carbonated beverage, coffee or tea than by itself.  Do we know a real thirst?

How will this story speak to us?  Who do we make outcast and how shall we offer them what they need?  And in doing so, how will we recognize our own brokenness and find what we need?

Perhaps wholeness may be found in understanding how we share with each other: we who are broken know what it means to be thirsty, just as we who know the love and grace of God through Jesus know what it means to offer life-giving water.