Thinking about being thankful

Perhaps we should be more specific.  Or absolutely not.  I’m not sure.

As a holiday, Thanksgiving is a harvest based festival celebrated in Canada, the US and some countries and territories influenced by their North American connection.  There are similar harvest based festivals in the UK, Japan and Germany.  Although, let’s face it, in Germany, Erntedankefest is probably not as well known, internationally, as Oktoberfest.

But more recently, we’ve broadened the scope of Thanksgiving to include all the things for which we’re thankful.  And I don’t argue against that, it’s just that I hope, first of all, that being thankful for harvest is at least a season (like harvest is), not just a one-day-and-we’re-done-with-it kind of event.  We should take a moment to be thankful for all the earth provides and the hard working people who bring it to our tables.  And second, that being thankful for anything else isn’t like that, either.  Just because there’s one day called Thanksgiving shouldn’t mean we’re not thankful every day, anymore than celebrating the day of our birth means we’re not happy to be alive every other day.  The best thanks is lived out, anyway, and we can do that every day.

So please take a moment or two to think about all the things you’re thankful for.  I bet there’s lots.  And you could think of more, if you tried.  The thing is, we often don’t, but we also shouldn’t have to try so hard.  Not because our lives are perfect, full and idyllic, but because we so easily let the imperfections of our lives overwhelm the good things.  And even then, we can so easily lose our sense of what we should be thankful for in comparing what we have to others.  More and better seem to be how we measure, rather than need and enough.

That’s tricky, because what we’re thankful for is closely tied to our relationships with other people and with the world around us.  It can become all too easy to say “I’ve prospered all by myself and I, alone, made everything I have.”  But that’s simply not true.  We need creation to feed our bodies and each other to feed our hearts and minds.  Creation can nourish our minds, too, and inspire us.  The point is, it’s never just “me” or “you” when it comes to thanksgiving, it’s “us.”

And that’s where I say, “thank you, God.”  Use what language you like, but thank God, that love, that spirit, that connectedness, that energy, that higher power, that thing that lives in us and binds us with each other and creation.

I think that’s what Moses was really saying to the Israelites before they crossed over from the wilderness into “the promised land.”  We’ll hear some of the book of Deuteronomy in our church on Thanksgiving, and in it, Moses tells the people there will be much to be thankful for in the new land.  But remember, first, where you came from.  There was a point to that time in the wilderness after being freed from slavery in Egypt.  It was a time struggling and learning to be a free people, learning how to live well together, to respect each other and the world, learning what’s really important about life.  More and better stuff doesn’t make you “more,” or “better.”  Be sure to live as thankfully with each other in prosperity as in the wilderness.

And remember you didn’t get here alone, says Moses, you did it together with God.  Freed, nourished, taught wisdom, grace and love.  Not always perfect, but lives filled with things to be thankful for, in the wilderness and in the promised land.  Thank you, God.

Break out the love

Yes, there is God.

I’ve said this before, I’m sure, because it’s what I believe.  You are welcome to your own belief and if I can help to encourage you, reassure you, engage you and help you grow in your belief or understanding of God, I would.  And if you think you don’t believe in God, I’d be happy to discuss it, because I think we’d probably still find some common ground.

That’s not to say that I don’t have questions - a lot of questions - and moments of doubt.  I’m human.  Don’t you doubt, sometimes?

It’s easy to say God is with us when things are going well, when we feel like we’re on the winning side or life is generally good.  But when they’re not, doubt creeps in.  And when things continue that way, when there seems to be no discernible response to our needs, the doubt can become full on angry denial.

Why did God let that happen?  Why didn’t God do something?

And some of those things are huge and life changing, even life ending.  Sometimes they’re just unmet wants and desires.  But each time, we want to cry out to the God somewhere out there who just isn’t here right now meeting our need.  We want to rail against the God who seems to stand back and let things happen when God could easily step in and change it, and make it better.  For us.  Why isn’t God here doing what needs to be done?  Is God among us or not?

That was the Israelites’ question.  The book of Exodus records God sending Moses to free the Israelites from slavery in Egypt.  The Pharaoh won’t let them go, so there are nine plagues, culminating in the death of all the first born Egyptian children.  That was the price God paid to free them.  After they leave, the Egyptians chase after them, catching up to them at the Reed Sea.  The Israelites complain that they were freed only to be killed in the wilderness, but, through Moses, God parts the sea so they can pass through to the other side and then closes the waters back on the Egyptian army.  Now the are hungry, but God feeds them.  Now they are thirsty and God gives them water.  And now, angry and frustrated, the Israelites fighting with Moses and God, cry out “is God among us or not?” (Ex. 17:7)

Thank goodness they weren’t angry with you or me.  We would probably have replied with something like “what?!?!  After all I’ve done for you?” and stomped off, never willing to help them again.

But it’s God.  God’s reply to the their angry doubt isn’t anger or hurt in return, it’s water.  Generous, life-giving water.  From a rock.  That’s what happens in this moment in the story, but wonder for a minute about what’s happening in the big picture.  Hardened by years of slavery and bitterness, the people will find new life within, and between, themselves in the freedom they will learn to know in the wilderness.  This, to me, is God teaching the people that God isn’t some power “out there” that controls things, but something that’s within each of us, something we share with each other.  Like water.

God isn’t some external force that dominates or controls things.  God is in each of us, in all living things, that we share with each other.  Or we don’t - we have free will.  Much later Jesus will call us to love like this, to be life-giving and nourishing.  Like water.  The stone that needs to be cracked open isn’t God, it’s us.

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?