Diverse and yet the same

So about six months ago, Mom and I were travelling around Cape Breton Island shortly after the big storm named Hurricane Fiona had gone through the Maritimes knocking down trees and damaging buildings right left and centre. Part of the tour included a Whisky distillery.  For those of you who are connoisseurs, that’s whisky without an ‘e’.  As the oldest single malt brewer on the island, it was one of those places that had some folks on the tour very excited.

Mom and I were not part of that excitement.  I can tell the difference between a smooth milk chocolate of high quality, a chocolate with a cheaper quality, and dark chocolate that should snap satisfyingly when it is broken, and know the importance of a good sheen when chocolate has been tempered well, but I don’t know how to do the same for whiskies, whether they have an e in them or not.  So we drifted around the grounds, admiring the fresh fall air, the beautiful location and the grand view of the region.  It was pretty splendid, with the fall colors!

Much to everyone’s surprise, Mom came back with not a three leaf clover or even a four leaf clover, but a five leaf clover she had found after casually looking at the ground and wondering if she could find a four-leaf clover.  None of us could ever remember seeing a five-leaf clover, but there it was, the genuine article, with all the leaves looking exactly the same size.  We took pictures of it because we figured no one would believe us.  And I think Mom still has it pressed somewhere.  She didn’t go out and win the lottery though, so I’m not sure how lucky it is.  We’re still waiting.

Diversity in nature is an amazing thing.  There’s so much we still do not know about nature. The odd discovery of a five-leaf clover when three is the norm.  And yet, it is still a clover even though it is not a typical clover.  And that’s a good analogy for the Christian life.  We are all human, and very diverse.  Different Christians may believe different things, but there is to be a core of similarity for us all.  We are called to follow Jesus, which is not easy.  We all fall short of the mark, we all haven’t quite become perfect yet, and we all make mistakes.  It’s a comfort to read that even great people like Paul had no illusions about humanity.  We like to keep secrets, we like to pretend we’re perfect, we like to show a public persona to the world that looks polished and professional and above reproach.  Paul says that it’s not about what we do in public or in private, but who we are becoming. 

We are becoming, hopefully, the image of Christ.  Our baptisms, our communions, our confirmations are all ways in which we remind ourselves and each other that Christ works within us and through the Spirit to become ever more Christ-like.  Every renewed and renewing, ever baptized and ever crucified.  Some days we know how sinful we are, how far from perfect we feel.  Other days we feel buoyed by grace in mysterious ways that we can’t quite explain. Or completely oblivious to how we may be acting in ways that are less than holy. 

One of the most inspiring things we hear about Jesus time and time again, is how he met people and saw them in all their messy mixed up ways.  The tax collector, the prostitute, the foreigner, the soldier, the stinky fishermen, you know the list.  And again and again he met them where they were, without judgement, without condemnation but with a deep compassion.  It was as if everyone Jesus met was completely transparent to him.  In our scriptures today, he talked about that transparency being inevitable.  That secrets we keep even from ourselves will come out in the end, and everything is known to God.  This idea of ultimate transparency becomes a fuel for bravery.  If we are no longer afraid of our secrets being used to attack or blame us, revile or shame us, then we can be bold disciples capable of daring acts of justice.

We need daring acts of justice.  The last three years we have seen the words of Jesus come true.  Families have become divided, parent from child, siblings from each other, first by Covid, then by our beliefs around covid.  People with attitudes of resentment towards the loss of power and control they felt with the imposition of mask mandates and vaccine passports became so enraged that their family members could not even invite them over for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  This is not new, of course.  How many of us grew up with the instructions not to talk about religion or politics at family dinners?  And how many of us found ourselves in conflict with family members on things like crop circles or whether or not the world is flat?  We are part of a protestant denomination because our ancestors or even our own minds became so disenchanted with the status quo that we got caught up in a little thing called the Reformation, led by Luther, John Knox and other theologians several hundred years ago.  30 years ago we had a major conflict over ordaining people who were not straight.  And while the United Church first ordained in 1936, she actually applied to be ordained in 1925.  It took 11 years of struggles and persistence, division and argument.  And now the Baptist Convention in the states is going through the same divisive conversation almost a hundred years later.  Daring acts of justice like painting rainbows on crosswalks, or bringing friends to a blanket exercise or raising supplies for Ukraine, hosting refugees, putting up campaign signs, speaking out against racist comments and homophobic slurs.  Standing up for people who are being bullied by extremists, or even challenging comments at the workplace with facts. 

Being brave Christians is not easy.  It can hurt us when we stand up for what is right.  I’ve been watching the conversation about the Westlock rainbow crosswalk very carefully.  There’s a bunch of activists planning to keep the crosswalk painting a safe and fun experience for the kids, and it’s been interesting watching the conversation evolve.  The group started out in a very angry place, wanting to hurt and attack the lobbyists trying to sabotage the crosswalk.  They are shifting into a more non-violent stance, focusing on keeping the kids safe from homophobic attacks, making it a fun event to the best of their ability, flooding the place with allies and caring adults.  The only time Jesus talks about coming to bring swords instead of peace was in this passage in Matthew.  The rest of the time he talked about turning the other cheek, and taking up our crosses.  He was prepared to die rather than start a war.  He told Peter not to use a sword when he was being arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Non-violence is what he taught his disciples, even if it cost them their lives.

We don’t have to be Oscar Romeros or Martin Luther Kings.  But we are called to be open to the transformation that works in us and others by the Spirit.  Let us pray.  Dear God, help us celebrate and love the diversity of humans that is far more than four or five leaf clovers.  Help us to become transformed into the image of Jesus.  Let us become Bold Disciples willing to engage in Daring, Non-Violent Justice as courageously as Jesus did.  Amen

Highway Hypnosis

My first really long road trip was to Fort McMurray as a teen-ager.  My dad was a high school chemistry and physics teacher, and the ATA Science Council was meeting with Syncrude for a two day conference.  We lived in Tofield, 40 minutes east of Edmonton, and Dad decided to leave for Fort Mac on Friday right after school.  He brought me along to ride shotgun and prevent highway hypnosis.  Back then, in the seventies, it was a single highway, and I remember that as the sun set, the road looked like a long, unending tunnel with boreal forest rising up on either side.  It was a long journey and we were relieved when we finally reached our hotel.

I felt a strong sense of pride that Dad thought I was ready to handle the responsibility of helping him stay awake on the trip.  But it was a lot longer than I thought, and we were both relieved to finally pull into the little motel where we spent the weekend.

Now of course there are rumble strips and the highway is twinned and there are all kinds of signs along the way to break up the monotony of that long road.  We have learned much about road design and attention spans and driving while tired.

I doubt that Jesus worried about highway hypnosis when he sent off the disciples into the community.  He didn’t have to give them a list like bring a friend, drink caffeine, rest beforehand and so on.  He did give them a list of what to do, go without any suitcases or credit cards, and if someone dislikes what you said, let it go, don’t hang around trying to convince them.  He knew that people might be challenged, targeted, even attacked for taking care of the vulnerable, the outcast, the lonely, the hurting and the sick.  But he called them to be kind, healing presences anyway. 

The list of oppression is long, isn’t it? Some pretty nasty stuff mentioned in our scripture this morning, possibly what Matthew’s community experienced first hand.  Floggings, betrayals, lawsuits, you name it, they expected it.  And how were they supposed to respond? With one of my all-time favorite Jesus sayings, “be wise as serpents and innocent as doves”  I love that line!  To me it combines a realistic assessment, maybe even a touch of Machiavellian sneaky underhandedness, and yet a commitment and principled dedication to being peaceful and loving.  Jesus knew things wouldn’t be easy, he taught his disciples that working for God’s beloved community, God’s beloved world, would not be easy.  He didn’t sugar-coat it, but he didn’t pull any punches either.  He gave the disciples a clear and honest picture of the cost of discipleship. 

Paul must have learned about this teaching.  He followed up with his famous “suffering leads to endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope.  Really, Paul?  Can’t we skip the suffering stuff and go straight to the peace, hope and love stuff?  That’s much more our style after all. 

Just as we can’t skip the long drive to get from Fort McMurray to just about anywhere else, Paul and Jesus suggests that we can’t necessarily skip the hard work of being a disciple to take a short cut to glory.  If we think it’s easy, we are either fooling ourselves or practicing wishful thinking.  One of my favorite literary characters Albus Dumbledor said it this way, “Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right.”  People are looking for easy short cuts to peace and while tactics like mindfulness, meditative music videos on YouTube, apps guaranteed to promote a zen state to the most troubled mind, and a plethora of short videos of everything from cute squirrels to pouring paint promising to calm us down. All this while mental health professionals are saying that more and more people are struggling with high levels of anxiety and depression.  It’s not pretty.  We see the fall out daily.  Westlock has become the centre of a toxic and homophobic campaign targeting the teenagers at the local high school because they want to paint a rainbow cross walk for Pride Month.  I can imagine you folks have had some trauma flashbacks yourselves with all the forest fires we are seeing this year.  I think that a lot of the anxiety and even anger we see is stemming from people having lost a sense of security in the basic assumptions that we have.  Assumptions like we are all kind, nice Canadians, or like we all can live together in peace, respecting each other’s differences.  Or that there will always be enough toilet paper to go around or that we’re better at being polite than Americans are, and the only word Canadians say more than “Eh” is “Sorry”. 

The United Church of Canada is also struggling with times of anxiety and depression.  Rural communities continue to shrink, churches haven’t bounced back to pre-covid numbers, and we are struggling with the effects of inflation.  Many congregations are grieving all that the epidemic cost us.  It’s not easy to be church in these days.  It’s not easy to be anything these days.  Other non-profit organizations are also struggling.  Toastmasters had a lot of clubs close.  Rotary, Lions and other service organizations also lost members.  Some Girl Guide groups have still not restarted.  The library boards are looking for members.  Hospitals and schools saw a lot of baby boomers retire or go on stress leave.  It’s not just congregations.

But congregations do have one thing that helps us when times are tough.  We have a caring network of faith communities across the country from coast to coast, even in the territories and Bermuda.  We have supports and connections and teams trying to figure this out together.  We have faith in a God that is greater than we are.  Our wider church has a new motto which is brilliant at addressing what ails our society.  Deep spirituality, like centering songs, candle lighting, meditative prayers.  Bold discipleship that knows we are strong when we work together and learn together.  And daring justice that finds ways to address inequality, racism, homophobia, and not shy away from it because its seen as too political.  Just as fighting highway hypnosis takes good sleep, avoiding heavy meals, having a buddy, hearing the rumble strips when our cars start to drift, so too being healthy resilient disciples means practicing good self-care, keeping our eye on our end goals and following Jesus’ call to be compassionate and as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves.  This is the road to peace, this is the road to a hope and grace that will never disappoint us.  Thanks be to God for such a gift of glory, love and faith to strengthen us for our journeys together.

Being invisible

There’s a picture book about a kid who feels invisible.   Every day Brian goes to school, and no one notices him.  He draws pictures that nobody sees, and he eats lunches all by himself and no one picks him to play on their team in gym class.  Even the teacher doesn’t see him, and he feels safe that way.  Then a new kid moves to town and gets laughed at for bringing his favorite lunch to school.  Brian thinks it’s worse to be laughed at than to be invisible, so Brian draws a picture with an encouraging note and leaves it where the new kids will find it.  That’s the day things start to change.  The new kid starts to see Brian and treats him with the same kindness Brian showed in his note.

There are days when we may feel invisible.  And there are days when we feel like we are living under the spotlight.  The election has spotlighted a whole bunch of people who we may never have heard about before they ran for power.  There are people in our world who are terrified of being invisible, of not having their votes and their opinions count.  There are a couple of fundamentalist churches in Canada who are quietly working to make our country more restrictive, with a racist and homophobic agenda to elect politicians and influence both educational and judicial systems, according to a CBC research report.  They want to work invisibly to have their political views imposed on all.  There are others who desperately want to be in the spotlight, they crave the attention they get when they make controversial statements and end up in the media.

I wish I knew what the answer was in our argumentative world where we are all struggling to breathe, never mind argue over who is better than whom.  When the smoke from our forest fires reaches all the way to New York, surely we should all be working together to save our environment?  But no, let’s get upset at how an oppressed and generally invisible minority uses paint in public so they can feel seen as is what is happening in Westlock this week.

Maybe that was the same feeling the Pharisees had when they saw Jesus talking to the tax collectors. People like Matthew would have been seen as irredeemable by the religious scholars of the day, a lost cause, and worthy of being treated as if they were invisible.  And no one asked the question of why they chose such a career that made them invisible in the first place?  Why were tax collectors so shunned?

When we think of traitors, World War 2 comes to mind, especially after the June 6 commemoration we observed this week.  Did you know that for months after the troops landed on Normandy beaches on D-Day, some 20,000 women in France were forcibly attacked by men, often French men, and had their hair shaved off?  This was done so everyone knew that they were collaborators with the Germans.  The shaving was not part of a legal investigation, or a Truth and Reconciliation hearing, but a vigilante action by men wanting to prove their loyalty to France.  Like the medieval witch hunts centuries before, the women who were targeted were often single, widowed or with husbands away in a prisoner of war camp.  Invisible women that no one would protect. No one asked them if they had collaborated or why they had collaborated.  Sometimes they were punished or even killed simply because someone said they saw the woman talking to a German soldier in public.  It’s an ugly and invisible part of the aftermath of the liberation that happened across Europe.  As one novelist pointed out, many of these women had no choice.  The Germans would invade a town, pick out the nicest houses and force the inhabitants to serve them unquestioningly day and night.  If the woman had children, the officers would threaten the children to ensure obedience. 

Going back to Matthew the Tax collector, why was he seen with such disdain? We don’t think of Canada Revenue Agency workers in the same class as collaborators and traitors, though we may like to grumble at bloated government departments and overpaid federal employees; maybe we even make sweeping generalizations about invisible people we may never meet in person.  The tax collectors in the time of Jesus were seen as traitors working with the Roman occupiers.  Not worthy to be seen by Jesus.  Nor were women who had hemorrhages.  They were not to be seen during their monthly menstrual times.  They certainly weren’t supposed to be sneaking out in public to grab the fringe of Jesus’ cloak!  And a little girl who was dead was also seen as unclean, something a good rabbi should never touch.  If Jesus had been a proper religious expert, he would have ignored all three of these kinds of people.  He would have treated them as invisible.

But Jesus didn’t just see Matthew and his co-workers, or the sick woman, he called them to join his new community!  Just as God didn’t just see Abraham in his crowded city, God called Abraham out of safety to start a new society.  Abraham was invisible to his father’s culture as a second-born child who would inherit nothing and would have had nothing to lose by venturing out into the wilderness.  Abraham brought invisible people with him, a wife that had little say in where he would go next and brought who knows how many unnamed slaves.  The country he moved to had invisible people already living in it.  Even though the land was occupied, God chose that Abraham’s family would inherit it, not the indigenous people.  Suddenly this is not a comfortable scripture, but one to be wrestled with.

Still, the tension of who is seen and who isn’t is important to reflect on.  Who do we choose to see?  Who do we wish were more invisible?  Do we feel invisible like Matthew, but are we truly invisible? Do we ask ourselves who God calls us to see? Do we crave the spotlight or crave invisibility?  Do we have the courage to hear God’s call to us, regardless of who we are, to see others as Christ sees us?  Is our church invisible or seen by all? Are we ready to risk being a bold visible community that welcomes all? And how do we do that? 

Through deep spirituality first and foremost.  Spiritual practices, prayer, humbleness, intentional times to think about our faith and our call will build the deep empathy and resilience that we need.  Then we can practice bold discipleship where we take courageous steps to welcome the invisible and bring healing good news to those who are hurting. And lastly, we can choose to heed the call to step into the spotlight that daring justice needs, in order to heal God’s beloved creation. Like Abraham, we are called to go into an unknown world which needs so much healing.  Like Matthew, we are called to new communities of faith, like Jesus we are called to help the invisible be seen.  May God bless us and keep us on this journey we are called to be on.  Amen.