What's Your Sign?

 Have you ever asked God for a sign?  Did you ever receive a sign?  Both of these are not questions we ask easily in the United Church.  We are logical, rational human beings not given to flights of fancy. Some of us refuse to ask for signs, some of us ask for signs too often. It’s hard to get a handle on, and it can feels like getting our tea leaves read or staring into a crystal ball.  Maybe it’s more like driving down the highway in a snowstorm, unsure whether to keep our high beams on or not.  Those times when the snow is blowing so thickly that we can’t see ahead no matter how fast or slow we go.  We look with anxiousness for the next sign for our turn off or to get a sense of where we are or how much further we need to go.  I often feel like I’m getting close to Athabasca when I see the moose crossing sign on the highway.  I look for that sign, and when I see it, I know where I am.  I also know that when I see it, I need to take extra care and be alert for unexpected hazards.

Our Isaiah reading has an unexpected hazard in it.  If we cherry-pick how we read Isaiah, the longest book of all the prophets, we can indirectly feed into antisemitic attitudes.  The attitude that the Hebrew scriptures are useless or full of an angry God or only valuable when they predict the arrival of Jesus is a way of diminishing the influence of Jewish theologians on the world and on Jesus.  The verses we heard this morning were once translated as ‘behold, the virgin is with child and will bear a son” but that is based on a Greek mistranslation.  Now scholars have restored the ancient and accurate meaning to us.  When we put it into context, we see that Isaiah was preaching to King Ahaz who was facing a civil war with two other kings.  The two kings planned to attack Jerusalem, kill Ahaz and put a puppet ruler in his place so they could attack the Assyrian Empire.  Ahaz was unsure what to do.  Isaiah challenged him not to put his faith in politics but in God.  Ahaz couldn’t ask for a sign because he didn’t have confidence in his faith.  It’s hard to trust in God when there are two armies making a beeline for your front gate.  Isaiah heard Ahaz’s excuses and said, “See this pregnant lady here? Her child will not starve to death because of two armies but will eat healthily before he is very old.”  Isaiah was saying to Ahaz that hope even for the pregnant mom was so close she could name her baby, “God is With Us”.  She became a tangible sign of hope for their people and their king.    Even in the midst of doom, she became a sign that violence would not have the final word.  And it became something to remember in other times of danger, that helped people trust in God.

Trust in God came to Joseph too, in our gospel reading this morning.  Joseph found that all his ‘happily ever after’ hopes and dreams, were turned upside down.  As a carpenter, he might have been building a house or renovating the kitchen for the day when he and Mary would start their wedded life.  As often happens, his best laid plans were thrown into a tailspin.  He knew that he wasn’t the father, and as many men have, he decided he didn’t want to be involved.  If he married her when she was already pregnant, people would assume that he was somehow lacking as a man since his young fiancé had strayed.  But as always in a world that has a double standard for the behaviors of men and women, it would have been Mary that would have taken the brunt of abuse from the other villagers for not honoring her commitment to Joseph.  Joseph wanted to do the honorable thing according to the culture of his time.  Break the engagement privately and send her away.  The double standard for women back then would have meant that she would have been on her own, a single mom with no extended family to support her, no income support, no family allowance.  Most young women in such a situation would end up prostituting themselves to survive.  Putting her away quietly would have only kept Joseph’s and Mary’s families honorable standing.  It would not have protected Mary or her baby from the worst abuses the Roman occupied world could throw at vulnerable young girls.

Then Joseph got a sign.  Signs make us question our assumptions about the world.  Joseph’s dream had him question his assumptions about how to deal with Mary.  Just as Isaiah, pointing at a young woman in a land threatened with invasion, questioned his king’s assumptions about God.

Some signs that question our assumptions about the world that I saw this week, were the heroic intervention of a Syrian Muslim refugee in the shooting of unarmed Jewish people in Sydney, Australia.  His bravery disrupts the racist stories that brown immigrants are violent and evil.  Some conspiracists tried to pretend that he was Christian, not Muslim, or tried to erase him from the story altogether.  The other thing that disrupted our assumptions was Skate Canada cancelling all interprovincial figure skating competitions from being held in Alberta, in order to protect young girls from double standards here.  Double standards and fear-based disinformation are hard to see until we look for the signs that God sends us.  God wants us to look for signs that build hope, peace, love and joy.  This Advent season, like Joseph and Isaiah, let us see signs of hope and love to change our assumptions about the world.  So if you feel like you are driving in a blizzard, slow down and look for signs of God’s love.  Chances are, you will find them.  Thanks be to God! Amen.

Transformation

The caterpillars have disappeared!  In their place are little blobby teardrops of shiny cream.  They are going through metamorphosis now, a messy process, according to biologists, where their insides are broken down and reconstituted into something quite different than what they used to be.  Not all will make it through this stage, and quite frankly, it sounds quite painful.  I bet if a caterpillar Jesus had spoken to them, or even Robbie for that matter, they would have said, “Too Much Information! I don’t want to know!  Thanks but no thanks, I don’t want to be a butterfly, I’m quite content to remain a caterpillar.”

The first time I remember someone giving me too much information about who I was and what I could become was in vacation bible school when I was about 10.  Every year, my parents would send us to camp at the big Baptist Church out by the highway and we’d happily play games, make crafts and sing songs.  It was the first time I ever saw a guitar played in church, which was a little scandalous for the times.  It was also the first time that I discovered that not all Christians think alike.  That summer I had to make a string art fish with the bible verse, “In God I trust, I am not afraid.  What can mere man do to me?”.  That, combined with some rather vivid descriptions of Hell where everyone who wasn’t a good Christian would go, gave me the message that I was missing a key to a safer life.  The grownups were constantly reminding that we had to let Jesus become our personal lord and savior and open our sin-filled hearts to be saved.  I’m not sure I understood all this saved business, but I let a grown-up tell me the magic words to recite to save me from Hell.  I desperately wanted the bravery and certainty the grown-ups promised.  I thought that if I recited the words, God would protect me from the kids who bullied me at school and I would never be afraid of them again.  Unfortunately, my new-found smugness at being saved did not help me make friends or calm my enemies.

There were other things I learned in camp.  How God was in control of everything and we would get whatever we prayed for, but the beautiful pony never did show up in my family’s back yard.  How the world was only 6,000 years old and dinosaurs were a lie made up by Satan.  That was hard because I loved coloring the left-over hand outs of ankylosaurus and brontosaurus that my dad brought home from his science classes.  I struggled with the idea that I could love God or dinosaurs but not both.

In the end the trips to Drumheller and the love I had for my dad won out over a God that promised miracles but couldn’t even muster up one decent pony.  I gave up on the bible and on the idea that God could help me feel brave when facing scary people.

Thank goodness for my United Church Sunday School teachers who didn’t see the Bible and Science as enemies or force me to pretend pterodactyls didn’t exist.  They encouraged me to see the bible as a place of great wisdom, especially in verses that suggest God is still teaching us, that Jesus couldn’t teach everything we needed to know, but would send the Spirit to keep educating us about our beautiful world.

We do ourselves and God a great disservice when we close our hearts and minds to new learnings and new guidance.  When we think we have all the answers.  When we quote scriptures to show our spiritual superiority.

Now, I don’t think there’s anyone here who does that.  Some of us are more likely to avoid the Bible for fear of being seen as old-fashioned, stodgy or judgmental, but that’s not necessarily good either.  Bouncing from one extreme to another isn’t the answer.

Truth be told, there are a lot of people who have been hurt by folks who told them how to think and what to think about God and the Bible, who don’t hear the idea that there is more to be learned about God.  They are afraid to come to church because they will be judged and shamed or taught something that seems completely archaic or superstitious or even irrelevant.

Yet I wonder if we buy into that discomfort too easily, not wanting to offend our friends and neighbors.  That’s where I hear a challenge in Paul’s letter reminding us that our faith and openness to God’s real presence in our lives does make a difference for us.  Paul talks about us having peace with God, being calm in times of misfortune, and knowing that our trials and suffering are not something to be ashamed of, but they can become times of transformation.

Twice I put a caterpillar on my desk trying to watch it spin a cocoon, but they just hung there.  The moment I left for lunch, they got to work and when I got back, voila, they were transformed.  In fact, I think there was no spinning involved, but maybe their skin shrank or something.  No idea how it happened, where their spiky black hairs went or their little feet.  It’s still a mystery to me. 

Paul sees our suffering the same way.  A transforming mystery.  There are certainly times where we need to walk away from suffering, when we are in an abusive relationship or tell the teacher when we are being bullied or ask for help if we realize we are bullying.  But it’s comforting to hear Paul tell us that we are also being transformed into brave, faith-filled loving souls capable of great things.  Such great things in fact that we too will share in the glory of God.  Wow!

Until then, let us keep learning as bravely as we can to listen to the voice of truth gradually transforming us into the very image of God.

Words spoken in Truth, Love and Wisdom

It’s good to be back from vacation and it’s good to be doing all kinds of things getting ready for the fall.  One of the things I got to do this week is to witness the power of words spoken from the heart, out at Amber Valley yesterday.  I asked a group of people if they would support two young people as they made vows to love and honor and support each other.  The folks that were there to witness these vows almost thundered their response of I Will to the question of “Will you honor the commitments these two young people make today.  It was really touching, the power of these words on the two young people.  Loud words spoken in truth and love and wisdom, but also with pride and deep conviction.

I think that those words were spoken in the true sense of the good news that Jesus and James were trying to share.  Sounds like these two men were on the same page when they thought about what people say out loud.  Which shouldn’t be too surprising since James was Jesus’ younger brother.  How often did they hear angry words? And how often have we too been on the brunt end of angry words or lies or slander and envy? Probably more that we’d like to admit.  But James also asks us to examine our own words and actions, not just dwelling on what we hear others say.

This week I heard others say things ranging from insensitive to angry to downright insulting.  Sometimes it was about someone not in the room, sometimes it was to someone’s face.  Sometimes it was on the news and caused international discussions, sometimes it was right here in Athabasca.  And sometimes it was so subtle that one had to really think about what the person had said before it came home how hurtful the intention was.  Sometimes it tried to hide behind humor, and sometimes it even came out of my own heart and I didn’t realize it until it was out of my mouth.  Whoops!  And Yikes!

Sometimes it was the words that did not get said that hurt, like how for many folks, Pope Francis did not say enough.  Sometimes it was the words said to a person so hurting that they over reacted.  Sometimes it was words that brought up memories of other words that hurt.

No wonder Jesus talked about the heart, the interior emotions causing what he called uncleanliness.  Koino-ew, in Greek, meaning dirty, common, and unholy. He and the religious scholars of the day were all concerned about anything that would separate them from God, but they were divided as to what that separation was caused by. What builds walls between us and God?  The Pharisees thought it was made by what people did or how they did, but Jesus and James thought it was caused by our interior states.  That sometimes we are not 100% logical, and that sometimes our words are clear symptoms of the state of our interior selves.  As one psychologist put it,

“Bad news, friend: you are not a rational person. Turns out most of your opinions and decisions are made up of an unsavory soup of prejudice, first impressions, old hurts, snap judgements, and fantasy, with some actual fact and reasoned thought thrown in for spice. In case it makes you feel better: same here. Same everywhere. We tend to think of humans as highly rational, but it just isn't so. Google "are humans rational?" or "do facts change minds?" Dig one layer down past the fluff pieces and listicles and see what science actually has to say about our minds—not that I expect any of the information there to change yours, if you're like the rest of us.”

That can be a pretty bleak way of looking at ourselves, and it would be easy to give up.  We are full of what Steven Covey called the 5 cancerous ways to talk to others – complain, criticise, compare, compete and contend.  All five of these tend to tear down community, to tear down peoples souls, to destroy hope, to undermine love, and to sabotage faith.  They are addictive and habit-forming and can grow out of control, hurting everyone who hears them.

But James and Jesus both paint a picture of better things.  Of words spoken that can build each other up, that can strengthen communities, that can help our faith grow.

Words like “I do” and “We will” spoken with passion, conviction and hope.  Words spoken out loud where other people will hear and witness what has been said.  Such is the power of the Serenity Prayer, which has been used in many different versions for over 80 years to help folks with wounded hearts.  Folks that some people would label as unclean or unable to change.  Simple words that have helped people look into that mirror and truly see themselves for whom they are.  Flawed humans struggling to deal with the cards life has handed them, and who humbly and gently rebuild themselves with words from the inside out. 

God Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I can change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

When I get down and discouraged from hearing complaining and criticizing words, or thinking that I can’t change the world I live in, I am going to do my best to remember yesterday.  Because that noisy crowd of folks wearing plaid shirts, cowboy hats and john deer baseball caps, with hip flasks, cowboy boots and running shoes, looking like the reddest of red neck Albertans, whooped and hollered and cheered and vowed to support the two lovely brides as they exchanged kisses in front of all their guests.  What a gift to that young couple that said I do, that their families and friends supported them regardless of their gender.  So when I think or we think that what we do or say in this country, this province and this town doesn’t matter, know that Jesus and James would be proud of how our witness to love is building a safer world for all kinds of people that were once thought as unclean.  God wants us to live in hope and love and truth, not anger or fear, and when our hearts are centered in hope, love, truth and wisdom, it is contagious, we do make a difference in this world.

Dancing Queen

Ooh ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, dig it the Dancing Queen!

When I was a teen, every girl I knew liked to sing that song, and the last time I heard Abba at a Karaoke bar, it was the one that all the ladies of a certain age got up to sing and dance to.  We all wanted to be that girl, the one who could be a teaser one moment and gone the next.  It was all innocent fun, and we didn’t really know what we were doing, but did like moving to the beat of the tambourine.  When we got the chance, we imagined we were the best dancer in the place.

We were probably a bit like Herod’s daughter, dancing without really knowing what we were doing or the ramifications of our actions.  That one thing can lead to another, and what might seem like innocent fun can lead to unexpected consequences, like someone’s head delivered on a plate.  Dangerous, stark and ugly.

Dancing is a powerful thing.  It brings out the best and the worst in people.  David’s first wife Micah, destroyed her marriage with David by her scathing comment about his dancing.  And I’m not sure that David’s dancing was completely above board either.  Bringing the ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem was an act of political consolidation of power for the new young king, doing his part to show his loyalty and respect to the God of his people.  But David danced first and foremost out of joy and love and honor to his God.  He wasn’t thinking about what other people might think, or what he should have been wearing or if he was getting the steps right.  He just danced.

All too often we are suspicious of art and artists.  My daughter has heard all her life that an arts degree is a great piece of paper useful for taking people’s orders in restaurants, because art doesn’t pay.  Music and art teachers are the first to be downsized whenever education cutbacks are announced, and creativity is seen as something only famous actors or painters or singers can do.  Us average people have to put meals on our tables and make sure the electrical bills get paid, something that artists can’t do.  

Kids are different. It is fascinating watching children paint, like the preschoolers we had at the church.  They just do it, they don’t ask ‘what’s it good for?” or “Who will buy this piece of art?” They do it because it is fascinating and for a moment they forget where they are in the joy of moving color around and watching it swirl and mix.

But asking grown-ups to paint or dance or sing and we get all defensive, think about the groceries that we need to shop for, the laundry that needs folding, the weeding that has to be done or anything else that we can use as a reason to avoid putting color on paper.  We’ve become too worried about what the neighbors like Micah might think.  It must have a purpose, and if it doesn’t have one, then it’s a waste of time.

And no wonder.  Art, done wrong, can lead to violence and death, something we saw when the Charlie Hebdo magazine was attacked by extremists.  Dance can be done to manipulate someone, as what happened when Salome danced for her step father at his birthday banquet.

That’s the message I heard at an Alliance Church once.  They seemed very nice and friendly people, the theology wasn’t terribly different than what I expected, but they did talk about dance.  In their tradition, it was not allowed.  Like the Mennonites, they believed that dance was profoundly sinful because of its’ sexual content.  So, by banning dancing, they hoped to discourage young dancing queens from exploring the dangers of living passionately and artistically.

I couldn’t join such a church.  To me there is something profoundly beautiful and creative and vulnerable about dancing, and if David could do it without the Ark smiting him like it smote others who stepped out of line, then it was okay and even holy.

Intentionality is crucial.  When dance is done to manipulate people for individual gain, then we are no better than Herold and Salome, and we can get mixed up in sordid things that degrade the souls of the dancers and the watchers just as Herod was degraded by his unhealthily fascination by his step-daughter.  When dance is done in joy for what God has done or is doing, or as a call to action or justice then it can be a stirring healing moment.  It can bring out the best in us and the worst in us, but it’s up to us to ask ourselves deeply searching questions about why we do it.

I used to take beginner bellydancing classes.  At first it was to improve my fitness levels, then I had my first recital.  The steps were basic and the choreography was not too complex, but getting up on the stage in front of other dance students was so hard that half our class dropped out.  And yet, stepping out of my comfort zone was truly a way of honoring God as my creator who gifted me with my two feet and my love of rhythm.  When we explore our playfulness, we can learn to be more confident and honest about who we are.  In this day where so many Herods rule the world without regard to the prophets who speak truth to power, we need people who are brave, creative, intentional and theologically able to see the Herods as desperate people clutching at power, certain that it is the only road to their own private peace.  Maybe if they gave themselves a chance to be playful instead of pompous, God’s beloved community would be more evident in the world.  Dancing for God is the most counter revolutionary thing we can do.  David’s dance reminded him that God was in charge.  Maybe if Herod had danced in vulnerability like David, history would have been a very different thing.