What if

I’ve been known to express some pretty progressive, even radical, ideas here. As always, I hope that I’ve also been clear that, in sharing my beliefs, I have no expectation that others will share them, nor that anyone would agree or understand them as “right” just because I said them. Rather, I hope to make people think and wonder for themselves in the further hope that it might expand their own sense and understanding of how they know God.

Sometimes, I find something I believe - that I’ve shared - appears to be contradicted by a biblical text. Even, say, by something Jesus himself says. “Aha!” you might think, “what do you have to say to that, Robin!” And I say thank you, Jesus, for this opportunity to challenge my thinking and make me think even more.

There’s a great example on tap this week. The gospel story is from Luke. It’s Jesus telling a story about a rich man and Lazarus, a poor beggar. While the rich man feasts, poor Lazarus suffers in agony at his gate, cast aside and ignored. When each dies, Lazarus is carried by angels to be with Abraham in heaven, the rich man is consigned to torment in Hades. He begs Abraham to send Lazarus to help him, but Abraham says no, the rich man had his good times, it’s Lazarus’ turn, and now there’s a great chasm between them. So the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his family about how they could end up. Again Abraham says no, that’s what Moses and the prophets are for, and if they won’t listen to them, they won’t listen if a dead man comes back to visit them. (Just as an aside, Marley didn’t have any success with Scrooge, either, he needed the ghosts.)

Okay, so there’s probably a lot to unpack here, but, just for now, can I focus on where Jesus challenges my beliefs for a moment. I think it’ll actually get us to the heart of the story faster.

Jesus says the rich man goes to “Hades.” If you’ve read me before, you might know that I don’t believe that there’s a hell, not in the traditional sense. I believe that God’s love and grace is for everyone. To me, that means we all come from God and we all return to God. No one goes to hell for eternal torment.

I double down on that, too, because I believe that sin is the choices we make that distance us from God, however we understand God. I’m still loathe to use the expression, but if there’s a hell, then this is it. When we sin, here, it puts us as far from God as we can get.

So what do you say, Robin, when Jesus himself says there is one?

Well, first I’d say I’m not entirely convinced Jesus did mean hell in this story, not the way we understand it anyway. But that’s a bigger, more academic debate for another time and, besides, it’s not my real answer. Hang on, this is going to be one of those “what if Jesus meant this?” answers.

What if Jesus wasn’t really interested in the future destination of the rich man and Lazarus? What if the point of “the great chasm” (Luke 16:26) that separates them after death was simply meant to point you back to the great chasm that separates them in life?

What if the point of this story was to draw your attention to the relationship or, more importantly, the lack of relationship between the two characters? The rich man seems to ignore Lazarus in life, but in the afterlife he knows his name. But even then, the rich man doesn’t talk to Lazarus, he talks to Abraham.

What if the rich man had engaged Lazarus in life? What if he got to know him, helped him and shared with him? It wouldn’t be just Lazarus that would benefit. If nothing else, the rich man would have a friend, but maybe Lazarus would have been more than that. If nothing else, the rich man would have taught others, his family included, about living the love that’s in us and built a sense of community. If nothing else, their relationship with each other would then reflect their relationship with God. It would reflect God.

And wouldn’t that be heaven? Both of them engaging in a relationship of mutual understanding and support: that would bring the God’s kingdom to earth now.

What if that’s what this is all about?

I hope this makes cents

This column should probably come with a Content Warning: minister writing about money.

Relax, I won’t be asking for it, telling you to give it to the church or telling you it’s bad. Jesus never did any of those things so why would I. I also won’t be reminding you that money can’t buy you happiness. It can. And I’m pretty sure Jesus would say that.

Hear me out.

Jesus tells a parable that goes something like this. A wealthy person discovers their business manager was dishonest and squandering their property. So they call the manager in. Knowing they were about to get fired and afraid that they’ll be kicked out on the street - or worse, the manager goes round to all the people who do business with the wealthy person and starts telling them to make their bills less, even half, what they owe the wealthy person. “You owe for 100 of these,” the manager tells them, “change it to 50.” “You owe 20, make it 10.” The manager does this with all the clients, knowing that when they lose their job, they’ll have friends they can connect with in the business community. The wealthy person hears of this and commends the dishonest manager for being shrewd. 

Jesus seems to also commend - and recommend - this behaviour, then leading to the well known saying “no slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” (Luke 16:1-13)

I really scaled back the story and focused on what Jesus says at the end there. That’s often where we go, I think, because it’s a tricky story and, fascinating though it might be, we can easily get lost in the nooks and crannies of it. So, money bad, God good, serve God.

Yes, but … that’s way to simplistic. Why is money bad? How do we serve God?

I think this parable is about the Big Picture and you need the story to understand that profound pronouncement at the end. Here’s where I think Jesus wants us to go.

First off, let’s not say just “money.” Let’s talk about “currency” because yes, just like we do when we talk about stewardship, it’s not just about money, it’s about other things of value like talents and time. Even then, if currency is the object of your affection and the purpose of your life, you are worshipping it and it controls you. That’s when it’s bad. That’s when money can’t buy you happiness.

Second, to serve God means to live the life that Jesus shows us, to love one another. And to love your neighbour, you need to love yourself. For Jesus, that means living from the good which is in your heart. You know, the “image of God” that is in you. When we do that, money, talents and time become tools to serve that good. That’s how they can “buy” you happiness - true happiness. And when the church, for example, asks you to give, it shouldn't be just because the institution is "The Church." It should be for what being church is about: love and care and grace for all. And you should be discerning about whether or not that's happening.

It’s all about our relationship with that currency, with our wealth, with our sense of abundance.

Clearly the manager is also self-centred and cares about their own self. Jesus seems to be okay with that and even says we could all learn something from his shrewd behaviour. Sure, that doesn’t seem very Jesus-like at first. But think about that in the context of living true to what’s in your heart and serving God. In Jesus eyes, living true to yourself and serving God is about your own self and how you share it with others. And the shrewdness with which the manager engages his dilemma recognizes that the world is not a perfect place and we may need to engage it and be astute and ingenious, shrewd even, in how we do that.

That really is Jesus: it’s about your relationship with wealth. It serves you, not the other way round. And when we live as Jesus shows us, it serves us serving God, bringing life and love to the world.

The Right People

The pharisees and the Temple authorities were right, you know. Jesus hung out with the worst people.

It’s true. In their eyes, at least. And those good ol’ pharisees, the keepers of Hebrew Law, even tried to help Jesus realize that. They’d try and help by pointing out that some of the people he spent time with were tax collectors and sinners. And that’s on a good day. Sometimes it was the sick, the poor, social outcasts, the ritually unclean and even prostitutes. There’s more, I’m sure, because there always seems to be an abundance  of sinners, especially in the eyes of those who consider it their job to judge. I imagine they kept accurate lists of all the sinning those people had done so they could show Jesus documented proof. I’m not entirely certain they wanted Jesus to spend more time with them, they just wanted him stop hanging out with “those people” and being, well, inconvenient.

But that Jesus was stubborn. He didn’t give up on his misfits. He’d double down with a parable or two. Like the one about the shepherd who had one hundred sheep. He counts them one day and there’s only ninety-nine. So he leaves them and goes in search of the one missing sheep. When he finds it, he brings it back and has a party to celebrate. (I hope they didn’t serve mutton.)

Or the woman who had ten coins. (Ugh, that just reminded them he spends too much time with women, too.) She counts her coins one day and there’s only nine. She lights lamps and scours her house from one end to the other looking for it. When she finds it, she invites friends over and throws a party to celebrate.

I have a feeling that the pharisees didn’t get the point. Or, I suppose they did, in fact, get the point and it just made them angry and defensive.

The real question is do we? From all these stories of Jesus and all these stories Jesus told, do we get that people in need are not “the wrong people?” Do we get that God’s love is most extravagant to those most in need? Do we get that we need to be that love? Do we get that’s a moment worth celebrating?

Yes, grace is messy. (And kudos to whoever said that first. It sure wasn’t me, but they’re sure right about that.) It’s complicated, it needs discernment and care. Yes, there’s risk reaching out and yes, it needs some work. But God’s love can’t stay in the pen with the other sheep or in the purse with the other coins or the church with the most seats. It needs to get out there and “bring good news to the poor … proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.” That would be Jesus, earlier in Luke, reading from the prophet Isaiah.

Why can’t we do that without judgement? Or a cost analysis? I know, as a society, we’ve learned to value, compare and look for the best deal, but this isn’t about dollars and cents, it’s about love and grace. There’s still a price. But imagine the value when the broken are healed, the unloved find love, the tired rest, and the imprisoned soul is freed.

Be like Jesus. Go embrace “the wrong people.”

Making, Moulding, Creating

Remember playing with Play-Doh when you were a kid?  Or, if your parents or school teacher made their own, it was play dough. It was, and still is, a lot of fun. You could make some amazing sculptures, pottery and other cool stuff with it. At least, it probably looked like an amazing dinosaur to you, even if it really looked like a blob of clay to someone else. That’s the power of a child’s imagination.

I suggest that you get some (or make some) and play with it while you read this. Really. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

In the Bible, the prophet Jeremiah says that God spoke to him and gave him the metaphor of the potter’s wheel for how God can be in our lives: we are the clay, says Jeremiah, God is the potter who moulds and shapes us.

There can, of course, be a negative side to that image, one of manipulation and control, but that’s not at all what Jeremiah means, is it? He knows that with God in our lives, we are not only created as wonderful things, we continue to be worked and moulded, formed over time into something even more amazing. Our awareness of God - however we know God - is part of loving ourselves and our neighbours and making our relationships affirming and rewarding. It’s about making our lives better, not in competition with each other, but with each other.

But as any good artist knows, or even a child playing with play dough, the medium has a part to play in the creation.

So what kind of clay are we? Hard as a rock, unchanging and unmoveable? Or so fluid and easy going that we never take a single form. Or are we firm enough to stand, but ready to be moulded, open to being created into something.

Or creating something ourselves. After all, we live in relationship with each other and we have a responsibility to be creators, teachers and inspirers of others, as much as we need to be open to receiving what other artists have to offer us.

I’m particularly mindful of that right now, because it’s back to school time. I’ve seen the children headed to school this week, some for the first time, some sophomores, some wily veterans of the elementary grades, and a few grizzled grade twelves, hunkering down for one more year.

There’s the look of excitement and wonder, some anxiety and a little bit of fear. On the teacher’s faces, too…

What an awesome responsibility to have, to be responsible for the “moulding of young minds.” And you have to thank school teachers for that, you really do. But I also hope that you, yourself, recognize it’s an awesome responsibility, because it’s not just school teachers that have it, is it?  It’s all of us.

Play with some play dough (or real clay, if you can). You don’t have to be an artisan to make something, even if it’s an “ashtray” like some of us made when we were kids. Think about how often we are like the clay and how often we are like the hands that form it. And think about when that clay is our hearts or our minds or our spirits. And think, too, about how often, as the clay, we might not just need to be open to God’s hands, but how often we might seek God’s hands and need God’s hands in our lives.

Play-Doh’s not just for kids, is it?

You're invited to find out

For quite some time, scholars studying the Bible have been pretty sure that the Letter to the Hebrews attributed to Paul wasn’t really written by Paul at all. And by “for quite some time,” I mean since the second and third century. They’re not really sure who wrote it, but they’re pretty skeptical - for a variety of reasons - that it was actually Paul.

Not a big deal to me, personally. I think that when the early church leaders were putting together the Bible, they liked what was in this letter and wanted to include it. Maybe someone thought making it a letter from Paul gave it added weight, an additional significance because, if it was by Paul, then, hey, it must be important.

Really? So the value of the ideas is directly influenced by who said them? That’s too bad, because not everything that scholars think Paul actually wrote is golden. But that’s the case with everyone, isn’t it? One of the most quoted persons in history is William Shakespeare, but even Will wrote a few duds. Really.

Whoever did write what we now know as the Epistle to the Hebrews wrote some great stuff. Stuff like this: “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25.

I’m not sure that needs “The Stamp of Paul” to make it credible. But then, I think we spend far too much time considering something as credible or valuable or meaningful simply because of who said it. Or not credible or valuable or meaningful for the same reason. Sometimes we are far too quick to dismiss something because of who said it, rather than consider the value of the ideas or the words themselves.

I’m sometimes in awe, reading the paper or watching the news, to realize just how un-discerning we are. Sometimes people we don’t like have good ideas that get ignored or actively opposed just because of who said them, only to reappear later from someone we do like. Then they’re okay. All you have to do is look at politics to see that.

Sometimes we do it with church. It becomes less about what we personally believe and more about who said it, or what group or church or faith tradition said it.

There is a movement in a number of countries called “Back to Church Sunday.” In North America, the suggested date is usually sometime in late September. I think it’s a great idea. I don’t know who started it, but it includes churches of all denominations.  Some have adapted it to “Back to Church Day,” recognizing church is more than Sunday.

The point of it is that surveys suggest that people who don’t attend church would be open to it if someone personally invited them. Why? Because whoever wrote “The Epistle to the Hebrews” was right. People find their lives improved by meeting with others who are willing to support and encourage them as we all wonder, ask questions and seek whatever it is that we know as God. That’s what makes community. And whoever wrote Hebrews knew that.

I think everyday is an occasion to invite someone to church. It’s worth finding out for yourself what really happens there, what people - all people - really think and believe. Going to church shouldn’t just be about the “label,” the name or denomination on the door, it should be about the people, the community of faith that gathers there. Sure, it’s way easier to just make assumptions, but there’s only one real way to find out who and what church is about - you have to visit. Not just this church or that church. Any church.

So, maybe it’s not “back” to church for you, but a first time. All the more reason to find out for yourself, any day. Maybe now’s a good time. You’re invited.

Unburdening the Sabbath

The gospel of Luke recounts a story in which Jesus heals a woman “with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years” and he does it on the sabbath. This draws the ire of the leader of the synagogue who accuses Jesus of violating the sabbath law by doing work on the holy day of rest. “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day" (Luke 13:14).

I have to feel sorry for this guy. Because he's absolutely right: according to the law, you can't do work on the sabbath. And not only is he in the right, he believes it, too.

That's why I feel sorry for him.

Leaders of the synagogue, temple leaders, pharisees - the keepers of the law, rites and culture of the hebrews - almost always seem to be the bad guys in the gospels. It's often such a caricature, they might as well be Snidely Whiplash, only with a full-on orthodox beard. But I don’t think they’re really that bad, though it seems useful to portray them that way as a foil for Jesus' teaching and actions. What they are - and maybe I’m being overly optimistic here - are believers in the power of the law to guide their lives. Strict adherence to the law governs how they live.

But it doesn't give them life.

And that's precisely the point so constantly being made by Jesus. In order for the law to give life, one must live by the spirit of the law, not the letter. The law written on your heart is more powerful than the law written in a book.

Jesus heals on the sabbath. That may be work to this pharisee’s understanding of the law, but to Jesus it's life-giving compassion and that's what the sabbath is for. That he heals a bent over and broken woman couldn't be a clearer indication: she is unburdened, freed from what weighs on her spirit, restored to health, given new life.

If only the church leader could see that.

Sorry, I meant to say synagogue. Or did I? Maybe a question we ought to be asking about our churches or any religious institution, about our society and our community, about our way of living, is this very thing: is it life-giving?

How do you use "sabbath" time? Just for a minute, let go of the letter of the law that says what you can’t do that day, let go of the argument about what day, exactly, it is. Whatever moment it is for you, whenever you make it - and you must make it - it should be more than a time of rest from labour and it should be more than routine ritual. It’s a time for unburdening yourself, it’s a time of renewal and refreshment of your relationship with God (by whatever name or means that you know God), it’s a time for finding new inspiration for your spirit,  it’s a time for finding new life through rest and healing.

The days ahead need that. 

I see good people

Who are your heroes? Why are they your heroes? What have they inspired in you?

Sure, we have people we might look up to because of a skill or gift that they have: an athlete, artist, soldier, tradesperson, maybe even a politician. (Could be. Maybe.) Someone with a gift we aspire to share. But what about the person? Who inspires you to be a better person? Who helps build family or community? Maybe it’s not one person, maybe it’s people. Or an event.

I wonder if we really think about that enough. 

The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews in the Bible did. In the eleventh chapter, they wrote about faith and gave a long list of examples of people of faith, people who’s lives and experiences demonstrated a faith that was life-giving, bold and forward thinking. They were witnesses to God being at work in the world. It reads a bit like it’s a test of your Bible knowledge and, to us today, some of the names might be a little dusty, maybe even unfamiliar. Their stories even more so. But to the first century audience of faithful Jews hearing this letter for the first time, I think it would have been a familiar list indeed.

And they weren’t just heroes with happy stories, of course. Inspiration can come from moments of hardship and suffering, too. Some it says, "suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented" (Hebrews 11:36-37). Yikes. Many of them didn’t even see the real results of their faithfulness in their lifetime.

But, as unfamiliar and remote as some of those stories may be, it reminds me that we should pause for a moment and consider what examples of faith we might find around us, what people and events we see that bear witness to God being at work in our world, in love and grace, kindness and goodness. And how might they inspire us today, these people who  might be right in front of us or in the more recent past - our contemporaries.

What about all the heroes in your life?  Like the examples in Hebrews, some may have struggled as much as celebrated. Some may no longer be with us, in person. 

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews writes that "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1). How ironic that we think of having a "head in the clouds" as being someone who isn't really aware of their surroundings, someone who's off in a fantasy world of their own imagination. I'd challenge you to put your head in this cloud for a few minutes and think about who might be an example of faith for you, an example worth following.

Hang on, though, it's not as easy as it sounds. It requires some discernment. First, discerning what is truly an example of a faithful witness to God in the world (however you may know God) and second, how it might apply in your own life. After all, everyone's journey is uniquely their own.

So look both ways as you step out in this cloud: look back - look around you! - and see the examples of faith that are there; and look forward, on to your own journey.