What’s in a name?

My uncle used to tell a story about an annoying kid in his school named Robert.  Robert loved to crash parties.  Which, when one was growing up in Edmonton in the 1940’s wasn’t a terribly big deal.  Back then it wasn’t big enough to have schools with a huge graduating class each year like Harry Ainsley does today, so crashing a party was pretty normal.  But this kid Robert would eventually get over to the piano and start playing and singing, much to the consternation of his classmates.  It was really annoying, because he wanted to have the spotlight to himself, and it’s rather difficult to have a conversation with a girl when someone is belting out some song while banging on the piano.  My uncle was not impressed.

Not unlike the townsfolk in our scriptures this morning, who were mocking Jesus.  They weren’t just asking each other, who is this Jesus fellow, they were being deliberately insulting.  Normally people didn’t have last names and there were a lot of people named Jesus, or Joshua or Jeshua.  So they were called by their father’s names.  Jesus Bar Joseph would mean Jesus son of Joseph.  Benjamin Bar Abbas, and so on.  But they didn’t call Jesus Bar Joseph, they called him Jesus Bar Mary.  That’s actually very rude.  It’s saying that Jesus was illegitimate and throwing that comment around was very insulting back then.  To do so in public would have been an intimidation tactic to try to shut Jesus down and encourage him to take his message elsewhere.  Three chapters ago, his family was trying to lock him up as crazy, and in this chapter, his family was used to remind him of who he was, and that he shouldn’t get too uppity.

Like Robert at the piano, they did their best to shut him down and get him to stop interrupting their fun. 

They emphasized his family connections as if to say, who do you think you are, coming back to town and spouting off all kinds of crazy ideas.  In short, they tried to bully Jesus.

Someone recently said to me that this still happens.  Every year, kids graduate from high school in small towns like Athabasca, and some go off to Edmonton or BC or Toronto for education, and we seldom see them again.  And then there are the ones who return home.  I was told that they have a hard time when they come back because folks feel like they’ve put on airs, got too big for their britches, forgotten that ideas that work in the city don’t work for real people and so on.  Some of these returnees felt bullied into playing small and safe and being frustrated that they couldn’t do the work that they felt called to do.  Some eventually moved away permanently, finding places where they wouldn’t be known as Mary’s kid who’s too full of themselves.

Jesus, son of Mary, take your uncomfortable and crazy ideas about inclusion of others somewhere else.  We don’t want to hear about what you learned in the big city.  We don’t want to see you heal others.  We don’t want to think that maybe there are ways in which we could be doing things better or differently.  Who do you think you are, Jesus?

And Paul faced the same thing.  He challenged the people that he felt were pushing their ideas as superior not because they had thought things through carefully, but who were bragging about their privilege and their special status.  Who would go on and on about how special they were, how they had great visions of God, and special abilities to connect with the divine, who were more interested in impressing their audience about how great they were instead of how great God was.  Instead Paul talked about being modest, and keeping the focus on Jesus, not on himself. 

He wasn’t in the game to become famous or rich.  He was in the God game because it made sense to him and gave him the courage to inspire others to give Jesus a try.

Now some people say that folks never change.  Once a bully, always a bully, once a braggart always a braggart. 

Once a selfish egotist, always a selfish egotist.  Yet scripture says otherwise.  Remember again that Jesus’ family planned to lock him up rather than spread his crazy ideas through the land.  Well two of his brothers were named James and Jude.  In the book of Acts, James helped Peter build the congregation in Jerusalem, and while Peter and Paul travelled around sharing the good news, James stayed behind and took care of the folks there.  Jude also became a teacher and wrote a letter to the congregations that is in our New Testament.  He introduced himself not as Jesus brother, but as James’ brother.  And scholars have come to the consensus in the most recent research that Jude did indeed write that letter, that it is one of the oldest letters in the New Testament, and that obviously he moved from thinking that Jesus was crazy to preaching that Jesus was the Messiah, the Anointed one.  Not Jesus Bar Joseph or Jesus Bar Mary, but Jesus Christos, special, unique and worth honoring.  If two younger brothers who knew Jesus that intimately could change their minds so drastically and humbly, why can’t we?

Why did my uncle like to talk about Robert?  Because he went on to greater things.  His last name was Goulet, and some of you might remember hearing about Bob Goulet, who went on to sing with Julie Andrews in Camelot and starred in movies and television shows right up to his death in 2007.  He even was on an episode of The Simpsons, and in a movie with Ellen DeGeneres.  But he was not a humble man. 

And in this day and age of special effects and big movies, he is not remembered by the young Edmontonians who are growing up in his old neighborhood.  His fame may not outlast the folks who knew them.  But Paul and Jesus, Jude and James and Mary continue to be remembered, not because they bragged or bullied their way to the top, but because they chose a humbler path based on love.  May we too practise humbleness and love in all we say and do.  Amen.

Healing thoughts on Canada Day

On Canada Day, it’s appropriate to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we are going.  What vision do we have for our country?  What do we lament, and how do we move forward?  When we look at our lives through the lens of scriptures, what are we called to in our Christian journeys in this land?

The one phrase I hope we never use to describe Canada is “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I Always thought this came from a Shakespeare play, and didn’t realize that David used these words to lament his friend Jonathan’s death.  What heartbreak he was speaking.  And if we read this scripture in context, in 1 Samuel 18, we can see a family dispute over David’s loyalty.  Saul was struggling with mental illness and David would play his harp to calm Saul.  Then Jonathan met David and the verse says, “When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”  Saul got jealous, started to plot how to kill David and at a memorable family party, Saul swore at his son Jonathan and tried to kill him in front of everyone.  He used his political power to bully and control not just his people, but his own family as well.

When we have families that don’t know how to talk to each other, when we use our power to push people like David and Jonathan into conforming to society norms, when we don’t admit our frailties and our mistakes, things can erupt into civil wars and broken lives.  Countries become full of suspicion, tension, prejudice and hate.

Jesus lived in a country like that, one where temple officials seemed out of touch with ordinary folks.  Jesus could have reacted negatively to the people who asked him for help.  He was approached by both a rich and famous man named Jairus, head of a large household and a poor, unnamed woman full of desperation.  Both came with a humble heart to ask for help.  Both had to be vulnerable in the face of a crowd.  Jairus, despite his status in the community, fell at Jesus’ feet and admitted that he needed help that only Jesus could provide.  The unnamed woman admitted that she, a woman seen as cursed because of her hemorrhaging., had done the unspeakable by touching a Rabbi in public, making him unclean.  Interestingly enough, Jairus, even though he knew Jesus had been touched by the woman, still allowed Jesus into his house to heal his daughter.  Somehow on that journey, Jairus forgot to worry about that, was more focused on being a parent than a temple official.  And maybe just maybe, the unnamed woman came with him on the journey.  Maybe, just maybe, they became a community of faith on the Way.

I wish I could heal people the way Jesus did, especially when I see someone in the hospital who is young and sweet and gifted and loved by many dying of cancer.  The truth is that I can’t, we can’t heal physical diseases the way Jesus did.  Doctors can cure, but not heal.  They too will say that there is no telling who will respond to treatment and who won’t.  Nurses will tell you that they can’t predict whether a patient will live for days, weeks or even months with the final stages of cancer.  But what we can do is come like Jesus did, not to point fingers at sick people, but to be with them and accompany them as best we can, forgiving them if such needs to happen, like Jesus forgave the unclean woman, and hear them when they are vulnerable, like Jesus did with Jairus. To go to them like Jesus did with the young girl, and treat them with respect and love.

In the end, only God heals.  God gives us tools and skills that we can learn and practise.  Those skills of listening, gentle presence, kind actions, prayers and thoughtful touches can bring healing that may indeed be more important than the physical healing we so desperately crave.

 A professor of mine says that the greatest part of suffering is often mental, and that people can endure a lot of physical pain if they have worked on healing their minds, their emotions, their relationships and their community.  Let us remember that our presence can help with the suffering when we open ourselves humbly. In the days ahead, may we be strengthened by God to be bearers of healing presence to the pain we see in our world, our community and our country.