Here's something to chew on

I’m eating cheezies while I write this.  The good ones.  You know, those ones made in Belleville, Ontario.  I’m pretty sure they’re good for you.  They’re crunchy and they’re orange.  I like that.

That’s important to me, because I’m a very discerning eater.  Some people might say I’m fussy or “a picky eater,” but I prefer to think discerning.  I have good reasons for the few - okay, many - things I don’t care to eat.  Like raisins, for example.  They’re just grapes that somebody belittled until they shrivelled up from a lack of self-confidence.  I also don’t like beets.  I don’t mind the greens, but beets are just like a turnip somebody beat up (yes, I went there) until it bled.  Then there’s cauliflower.  Just really pale broccoli that failed at being green.  And don’t even start me on pickling things.  We only really needed to pickle things before we had refrigeration.  We have ‘fridges now, people, you can stop pickling.  There’s more, much more, but I’ll stop there.

See, discerning.  It is just possible that my criteria for being discerning might not include things like nutrition or good health, but I am discerning.

And that’s a little bit of a problem for all of us.  Sure, some people are conscientious about being healthy and taking care of themselves.  But lots of people will eat pretty much anything.  Others are fussy and not always for good reason.  Others would be happy to subsist on a steady diet of junk food.

We don’t just do that with our bodies, either.  Take a moment and think about some of the things we put in our minds.  Or our hearts.

Some people will gobble up just about anything if they’re hungry enough.

Here comes a really big pivot, but this is where my very discerning mind is this week.

Like the Israelites in the wilderness.  Yes, that’s what brought me to this, the Exodus story.  Moses has led them out of Egypt, they’ve crossed the sea and they’re on their own in the wilderness with no one chasing them.  They are their own people, free and clear of oppression and now they’re hungry.  So they complain to Moses and God feeds them with manna from heaven.  Wait, though, there’s more than manna.  In Exodus 16, it says that there’s quail in the evening and manna - bread from heaven - in the morning.  Later, we’ll hear that they ate manna for “forty years.”  Wow.  That’s some diet.

Or maybe it isn’t.  Maybe it’s a metaphor for how God provides them with something nutritious, something that feeds their bodies, their minds and their souls: a journey together in the wilderness, a journey of discovery about how to live together, a journey of building a sense of self-worth and a sense of community.

I know it seems like the Israelites just up and ate what ever was on the ground.  And maybe they were desperate.  Starving people reach for just about anything at first.  But when the manna appears, their very first question was “what is this?”  What it was, was something new.  Something to feed and nourish them. There were many new things on this journey that fed and nourished the people.  The observance of sabbath, the Ten Commandments that are fundamental guides to how we live together, the covenant, the tabernacle and more - years of instruction, experiences, maturing and growing into a community.  Sure, later they might give into the junk food or just what they like for awhile, but there will be prophets and, much later, Jesus to help them get back to something more nutritious, more fulfilling and more wholesome.

Maybe that’s the thing about being discerning.  Look first for that which makes you healthy, well and whole.

Looking past the special effects

I made it rain this week. So, if you’re a farmer that was in the middle of harvest and I screwed that up, I’m sorry. On the other hand, if you were hoping for rain, you’re welcome.

Unfortunately, I’m not able to make it rain were it most needs to, nor can I stop it raining in places where there’s too much - it’s pretty much a localized thing, over our house and the general area around it.

See, we decided to re-shingle the roof.  They delivered the shingles one night and then, on Friday, someone called to say that they were delayed on another job.  If we wanted, they’d come Saturday, but would Monday be okay? Of course, I said, sure, come Monday. It started to rain on Monday.

So, obviously, I made it rain. And now that I’m talking about it, it’ll probably rain next week, too. Again, you’re welcome.  Or, sorry.

I hope that all sounded ridiculous from the first sentence. I can’t affect the weather that way. I think we all, collectively, do affect the weather, just as we affect the planet, but I can’t just will it to happen. 

God doesn’t, either.  It’s a mystery to me how some people still talk about how God sends hurricanes, floods, droughts, earthquakes and the like to punish us for something.  Or rather, to punish us for “what those people do.” And you can pretty much insert anybody as “those people” who don’t fit into or agree with what the person making the claim believes to be right. That’s a God to be feared, for sure.

That’s not the God I believe in. Oh, I’m in awe of God, alright, I wonder and I’m amazed by God, but it’s the love, the grace, the life-giving fearless hope that I hold on to. I see that God in the world all around, but I just don’t see a vengeful, punishing God who wields creation as a weapon.

But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Look at some of the stories in the bible where God does just that. The Exodus story, for example, is full of moments worthy of Hollywood special effects: a burning bush, plagues, pillars of fire and wind and more. Awe-inspiring moments, to be sure, but I wonder how often we get so caught up in that kind of “power” that we miss the true point of the story.

Look at the Israelites escape from Egypt. Pharaoh finally relents after all those plagues and releases the Israelites from their slavery only to then pursue them to the edge of the sea. God holds them back with a pillar of cloud and fire while the Israelites wonder what they can do: their enemies on one side and an unpassable sea on the other. There’s no way out.

But then there is, because God opens the sea for them to walk through to other side and then closes the sea on the Egyptians and drowns them all. “Behold his mighty hand,” says Charlton Heston’s Moses in the epic film ‘The Ten Commandments,’ as he parts the sea in an iconic pre-CGI moment on film.

Except Moses doesn’t say that in the bible story. And that’s just my point: the special effects have become more important than the point of the story itself. The power of God’s hand becomes greater than the love of God’s heart.

Strip away the special effects for a moment. Then this becomes a simple story of deliverance, perhaps. In a moment where there appears to be no way forward, God provides one. It’s a story of oppression being defeated and freedom being gained. It’s a story in which following God’s way (remember the love, grace and hope?) leads to new life and domination, self importance and arrogance leads to death. It’s finding a way forward in hope into opportunity.

These same people then spent a biblical forty years learning how to be “a people,” and there’s a load more “special effects” to help them on their way. But learning to live together, to care for each other, to believe in each other, to build relationships and be the people God intended takes time, and that’s the point.  We’re still learning.

Maybe that’s a take away from this story for us. There’s always a way forward, a way that leads to life. That way isn’t about power or “fire and fury,” it’s about hope and creating the opportunity to build relationships, to engage each other respectfully and compassionately.

A Journey Just Begun

Social media is full of back to school pictures this week.  Even the Royal Family posted pictures of Prince George heading to school for the first time.  Lots of other families, all royal in their own way, posted pictures from pre-school, kindergarten, all the way to high school and beyond.  I saw one post that was “my 20th first day of school.”  That’s some grad work.  I hope.

Lots of teachers could beat that, of course, but, just like the students, just like coaches and players, instructors and trainees, anyone who’s back at it with the same routine, I’d wish for all of them that they’re excited and enthusiastic.  Yes, I know that’s idealistic, but I’m going with it.  Please don’t be imprisoned by routine.

No matter how many times you do it, it’s still the first day, again.  It’s a new moment, with new potential, new opportunities, new learning, new people to learn with.  It should be embraced.  It’s a new step on the journey of life.

Oh no, not the “life’s a journey” metaphor.  Yes, the “life’s a journey” metaphor.  Because it is.

I think life is a journey.  And I think the way should be forward.  Always forward.  Experience informs us and teaches us, we can enjoy the moment and linger in it, but life is lived forwards.  I want to say that trying to live in the past makes us a prisoner of it, but I think that’s already been said by Mick Jagger.  That’s not a bad thing, I just don’t want it to be a song lyric.

Because it’s true.  The past helps make us who we are, but it makes us forward.  To stay in the past is confining and keeps us from embracing the opportunities and challenges ahead.

So does needing to know what’s going to happen.  I know this one.  So do you.  It’s great to have a plan, but it’s best to be flexible and ready to go where it takes you.  After all, things happen and people happen.

What seems to work best is to remember, to hold close the experiences we’ve had and learn from them, but to be ready to step forward into the unknown without fear.  And that’s whether you’re going into Grade 1, NHL tryouts, a new job, adulthood, marriage, new home ownership or retirement or whatever life-changing moment you’re having.  And, by the way, every moment’s life-changing in its own way.

Our church is working with a theme this month, “a journey just begun,” not just because it’s fall, but because we’re following the story of Moses and the Hebrews in the book of Exodus.  And nobody knows life’s a journey like people for whom life is a literal journey.

The Hebrews were slaves in Egypt and then they suddenly weren’t.  Well, not suddenly, I suppose.  There were nine plagues before the one that changed Pharaoh’s mind and he let them go.  But, in the context of generations of slavery, it was pretty sudden.  And in the ceremony that has instructed and honoured it since, Passover reminds us of the bitterness of the bondage of the past and the need to be ready to move forward into the unknown without fear, remembering, above all else, that God goes with us.  On that level alone, this story should speak to us about the importance of journey in our lives and of journeying forward.

I realize, just as I wrote that, that I said “us.”  And that, right there is a huge challenge to face as well.

Passover is at the heart of Jewish tradition and culture and, though Christians inherit that tradition as a formative part of our own, I would never presume to speak to it as more than that.  I recognize also that there are many other faith traditions.  This story still speaks to us.

I also acknowledge that I have no authority to speak on a story of liberation from slavery, except as an inheritor of oppression and a hope-filled facilitator of its end. And that, too, is cause to know this story.

The freedom the Hebrews found wasn’t just from the oppression of the Egyptians, but the chains of the past itself.  They needed to learn to be a people, to live in relationship with each other, a relationship that wasn’t governed by the context of their oppression.  They needed to learn to love themselves and each other.  And the story of the their time in the wilderness is that struggle of finding their way to themselves.

In ‘The Long Walk to Freedom,’ Nelson Mandela wrote that when he walked out of prison, he knew that “the truth is that we are not yet free; we have merely achieved the freedom to be free, the right not to be oppressed. We have not taken the final step of our journey, but the first step on a longer and even more difficult road. For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others … I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way … I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.”  Mine isn’t either and neither is yours.  Embrace it.

A little or a lot

Just the other day, I was privileged to lead a celebration of life for a much loved and respected member of our community.  I arrived a little early and ran into local singing legend and noted ginger, Ty Wilson, in the parking lot.  Ty was singing at the service.  As we walked to the door, he said to me, guitar in hand: “do you ever get nervous?”

I think I said something like “sure, all the time” - I do - and then, after an awkward pause, I think I added something redundant and flip like “you just have to do what you do.”  Yeah, sometimes my wisdom is astonishing, isn’t it?

I don’t know for sure if he was really nervous at all, but in we went.  The service started and when it came time, he said a few kind and loving words about the person we were celebrating and then sang Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”  It was beautiful, genuine and touching, very much like the wonderful words of the two people who did the eulogy together.  It was what these moments should be: an opportunity to celebrate and remember a life with stories and words that reconnect us - literally “re-member” - with that life and how it has touched ours.

Nervous?  Couldn’t tell by looking or listening, in the end.  It’s also fair to say that what brought everyone there was love and respect and when you can see that the room’s full of people who came with that, doing your best will be just that.  Maybe it is a “do what you do” moment, after all.  I don’t think it’s just about being skilled or practiced, prepared or confident.  I think it’s a moment that you have to believe in yourself and express yourself genuinely.  And that’s all those other things and more.  It’s really having faith in yourself.

There’s a story about Jesus walking across the water to the disciples as their boat struggles in rough weather.  In Matthew’s telling of it, Peter steps out onto the water at Jesus’ invitation and starts to walk towards him.  Peter - and let’s be clear about this - Peter, the story says, did just that.  And he was doing fine until he gave into his fear of the storm and the water and then he began to sink.  He calls out to Jesus to save him and Jesus does just that.  As he pulls Peter to safety, he says “you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

I think this story is all about faith, but it’s not about faith in Jesus (or the disciples lack of it).  I don’t think Peter doubted Jesus for a moment.  He called out to Jesus to save him because he fully believed that Jesus would do that.  Peter had all sorts of faith in Jesus.  He just didn’t have any in himself.  I think that’s what Jesus questions.

Peter was being just like Jesus, walking on the water, until he began to fear.  It’s only when he gave into the fear, that he started to sink.  And if it seems like there’s an air of disappointment in Jesus response - “you of little faith, why did you doubt?” - maybe it’s because Jesus believed in Peter more than Peter believed in himself.  This isn’t the only time that Peter will struggle.

For all the struggles we may have with faith - in God, in Jesus, in each other - I believe that Jesus has faith in us.  Truly, how many times does Jesus say “don’t be afraid” and yet we give into fear so easily.  I know it’s not in the story, but I like to think that when Jesus pulled the soaking wet Peter into the boat - Peter, a professional fisherman, remember - Jesus had more to say. Maybe he said having faith in yourself is about being genuine and living from the heart of who you really are.  Maybe he said that it’s more than confidence, more than skill or practice, it’s sharing the love in you with the love in the world.  Maybe he even said something like “you just have to do what you do.” 

Is it all just talk?

Churches talk a lot.  Of course they do, but back in July, I wrote about two things which I figured churches talk about more than others: love and money.  I suggested that, quite often, it’s not so much that we talk about them a lot as how often we talk about them, well, badly.  I’m not always sure that I’m helping improve that – I hope that I am, of course – but I think I need to add another topic to the list: community.

No, wait, that’s not really fair.  This one’s a little different.  Sometimes I think it’s not so much that we talk about it badly, it’s that we could do it a whole lot better and a whole lot more.  We do talk about community well, and I think we often have a really good vision of what it should look like.  As long as it’s our vision and others follow it, he said sarcastically.

Maybe I’m being a little harsh, but hear me out.  We want the church to be a community of faith within the larger community, a family with hands reaching out to the larger family of our society.  But often, membership in that faith community can appear to be exclusive.  You need to believe this, follow that and fit in.  What if you don’t?  What if you have questions about God and faith and what they might mean in the world – in your world – and you just want to explore that with others?

I grew up in a denomination of the Christian church different to the one to which I now belong, and I worked in others as a musician along the way.  It’s always struck me that identity was a really challenging issue for some people, regardless of what church they wished to belong to, because identity so often involves protecting who we think we are.  And why not – if you want to belong, shouldn’t you share the same beliefs?

Yes, but it’s not that simple anymore, is it?  While more and more people have a sense of God and a real desire to explore spirituality, less and less are willing to conform to the traditional models that the churches have offered.  Some will even point to the inconsistent legacy of good and bad that is the church’s history and wonder where God is in that.

So am I advocating an anything goes approach to God?  No, not really.  That’s something that the “new” church can often be criticized for – in its quest to be everything to everybody it is no longer anything to anyone, it is no longer relevant.  No, of course there does need to be an awareness of common, shared beliefs, that’s what we gather around.  But our identity, I think, needs to be permeable, that one does need an awareness of one’s own distinctiveness while being open to that of others so as to be able to engage them.

Ah, engagement.  I guess that I don’t think the real issue is around defining beliefs, so much as how we engage each other on the journey we are living.  I wonder, sometimes, at how quickly some churches will tell people what they should think, rather than ask them to think.  Just as important, how are we doing that?  Are we telling people where God should be in their lives?  Or are we asking them to consider where God is in their lives?  And if we’re asking that question, shouldn’t we ask it in a way that engages them?  And shouldn’t we be open to hearing the answer, in whatever form it comes?

So. Where’s God in your life?

How does your life speak?

There’s an old Quaker proverb that goes “let your life speak.”

It’s been running through my head a bit the last little while.  To be honest, I see it frequently because it’s the title of a book by Parker Palmer that sits on the bookshelf right behind my desk.  (Find that book and read it.  Please.)  But I also read the news.  I also look at the world.  You do to, I bet.

Fear, anger and hate seem to be everywhere and there’s been lots written and lots said about it, much written by people more knowledgable and eloquent than me.  Much of it also quotes great figures like Mandela, Martin Luther King, Gandhi and Jesus.

But let me come at this from a little bit different way, the way of people maybe a little less eloquent and a little less famous.  Might even be people you know.

I’ve either attended or been honoured to lead a number of celebrations of life in our community the last little while.

Many of the services have included the passage from scripture that begins “for everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven …”  It’s from Ecclesiastes - thought you might also know it from Pete Seeger’s folk hit “Turn, turn, turn.”  It includes a lengthy list of things that there is time for, from “a time to be born, and a time to die” to “a time for war, and a time for peace.”  Even “a time to love, and a time to hate.”  I’m pretty sure that just because it’s on the list doesn’t mean you should find a time for it, only that you’ll likely encounter it.  And I’m sure that we could all add to that list.

Unfortunately, “the list” is sometimes all we remember.  It’s all Seeger put in his song and sometimes we think the stuff is the most important part.  It’s not.  A life full of stuff isn’t nearly as important as what you do with it. 

More importantly, the writer of Ecclesiastes doesn’t say how long we have, nor do they bemoan the fact that we don’t know.  Instead, the writer reminds us that living into life is what is intended, not living towards death.  “I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil” (Ecclesiastes 3:13).  God intends for us to live well.  And, as Jesus reminds us, to love well, just as he loved us (John 15:12).

To live life as a gift from God, to live well, and to love well as God intended and Jesus taught, gives voice to our life.  We hear it and see it in the lives of those we have seen, met and engaged in our life.  And even when our physical life is ended, our presence continues on in those who have experienced life with us.  Those who have heard our life speak to them.

Comfort in the loss of someone we love is very individual, I think, and can take many forms.  And we often have lots of life questions for which we seek answers, what are often referred to as “life’s unanswerable questions.”  Sometimes I wish we had more answers.  But than I remind myself that having all the answers would make us less created in the image of God, and more, well, God.

The thing is, we are most inclined to wonder these things - and to hear these words from Ecclesiastes - when someone is gone.  And we wonder at these words as we reflect on them, not ourselves.  Again, maybe we should also remember to live into life, not towards death. 

I know that God wants us to live well, to love and care for, and with, others, living as Jesus exampled for us.  As I have been able to share in celebrating lives that have been well lived and shared with so many others, I know that our lives speak.  And they must not speak of fear or anger or hate.

What is your life saying?

Let's talk about sin, shall we?

I’d like to talk about sin for a minute.

And I’d like to do it in a completely non-judgemental manner.

Now, I know what you may be thinking: minister writes about sin and isn’t judging?  Is that even possible?  I hope so.

Still, in the church’s defence, we kind of invented it.  Not all the sinning – we’ve all had a creative hand in that through the years – but in the concept.

We use the word “sin” in a pretty generic way these days.  It tends to mean anything anyone considers wrong, especially morally or ethically wrong.  And we usually use it when describing something WE have judged to be so.

But that’s not what sin really means.  The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church says that sin is “the purposeful disobedience of a creature to the known will of God.”  So sin is a theological concept – it is fundamentally about our relationship with God.  Sin distances us from God and the life God intends for us.

That pretty much covers anything, doesn’t it?  Yes it does, but here’s where it’s different to a moral or ethical right or wrong: sin is God-centred, not human-centred.  Hmm, that sounds funny doesn’t it?  “Sin is God-centred.”  Let me come back to that in a minute.

The problem, of course, is discerning what is God’s will.  The bible is a good place to start, because it gives is two helpful perspectives.  First, the word we translate as “sin” in the bible literally means “to miss the mark.”  In other words, if our goal is to be close to God, to have a relationship with God, sin is the stuff that knocks us off course or sends us in another direction.  Second, the other word we use with sin is “transgression.”  That’s when we “cross the line” – violate a law or a commandment.  The are many laws in the books of Deuteronomy and Leviticus (some of them are, um … interesting, too) and there are the Ten Commandments, fundamental guidelines for living.  And there is the “Great Commandment” in Christian scripture: to love God with all my heart and soul and my neighbour as myself.

Our interpretation of those laws and commandments changes over time.  I know that stoning your neighbour for working on the Sabbath certainly has, for example.  (Although, you may feel like you want to if they’re running a chain saw at 6 am when you’re sleeping in.)  But that doesn’t mean that the concept of respect for justice and for what is right should change.  Nor does the concept that right relationship with God and each other and the world – to “love” as Jesus taught – should be our goal in living.  In her book Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, Kathleen Norris writes that “I can find all too many ways in which I transgress regularly against the great commandment, to love God with all my heart and soul, and my neighbour as myself.  On a daily basis, I fail to keep the balance that this commandment requires of me: that I love and care for myself, but not so well that I become incapable of loving and serving others; and that I remember to praise God as the author of life itself, but not so blindly that I lose sight of the down-to-earth dimensions of my everyday relationships and commitments.”  But we always need to continue to try.

Which brings me back to that phrase above that sounded funny, “sin is God-centred.”  I think it seems odd to me because sin is the antithesis of a God-centred life, the thing that drives us away from God.  So what draws us to God.  Salvation?  Redemption?  Fancy terms, but I think they’re only the process of returning to God after sin.  The opposite of sin?  I think it’s love, love as God loves us and as Jesus showed us.