Holy Seraphims Batman!

Have you ever woken up from an intense dream that left you shaken and sweating?

Or maybe the glimpse of an idea that surprised you, or a daydream over a cup of coffee?  I imagine that’s what Isaiah was experiencing when in the middle of the church service, the sermon and incense was putting him to sleep. He had a daydream, a vision that would have made Stephen Spielberg or George Lucas or Peter Jackson green with envy.  Winged creatures, not quite angels, and definitely not human.  And a God that is so big, just the hem of God’s robe filled the whole temple.  Even Kate Middleton’s train on her wedding dress was not long enough to do that.  And the temple is tended by seraphim, odd looking creatures with many wings. Some biblical scholars remind us that the word seraph comes from the Hebrew root word for snake, sarap, like the word Serpent, so maybe Isaiah was foreseeing an episode of Game of Thrones with flying dragons, snake-like creatures covered in feathers?   Either way, Isaiah was confused, overwhelmed and astonished at the sight of so much bewildering imagery, the immensity of his God experience that day.  And he was in despair.  Who could look at such a vision without recognizing that they were not worthy for such a thing?  Isaiah experienced profound doubt and shame being in the presence of the Holy. How could he see this when he was so flawed and uncertain, so acutely aware of his imperfections and his faults?  In other words, he was human and he struggled with imposter syndrome.  And he was in deep pain.  Woe is me, I am lost and live with people who are lost like me, in a world that is imperfect.

Can you relate? How many of you are feeling lost?  How many of you struggled with flashbacks when you heard that once again you might evacuate?  How many of you looked around your homes wondering what to pack, what to leave behind?  How many of you waited for that call, that knock on the door?  How many of you felt a lump in your throats or a tightened stomach at the thought of that long drive?  I can’t begin to imagine reliving that potential trauma. 

There are times when we find ourselves up against things over which we have no control.  Fires, floods, viruses and bacteria can disrupt our lives in unexplained ways.  We don’t know where to turn, how to respond, where we can go when we feel at a loss.  One of the hardest things to admit to ourselves is that we are not God.  Despite our best efforts, things happen.  We come to realize that we are not God, and that we don’t always know what’s best.  We say, “Oh Woe is me, I am lost.  I am not God and God is more than I can logically understand.  How can I be in the presence of the Holy?”

That is the question for us frail humans.  We are not God, we are not perfect or pure or almighty.  We have flaws, we make mistakes, we have failures from time to time.  We get hurt, and sometimes we hurt others.  How can we approach God?

Isaiah showed us how.  Just like an AA meeting, he named his vulnerability, and his flaws.  He recognized and confessed his pain.  “Hi, I’m Isaiah, and I’m a broken, imperfect human.”  And just like in AA, he found himself freed from all that self-centred concern and angst.  Just like in AA, he found himself accepted just as he was.  Just like in AA, he turned his life over and found he had a clean slate, not from any action he had taken, but by the action of God through the strange beings that worshiped God, saying Holy, holy holy.  And just like in AA, he found that he was called to help and serve others.  By being honest and vulnerable in front of the holy mystery that was above and beyond perfect description, he found healing and a new purpose.  Which is what Jesus may have been getting at when he was talking to Nicodemus.  Nicodemus was a man of high standing and influence in his community.  He was a public figure.  He had a lot of power and authority, and yet he was troubled and uncertain.  He came to Jesus for answers and Jesus searched for a metaphor that Nicodemus would understand.  Both scriptures point to the same thing. That the Holy is hard to approach when we are in pain or in trouble, but the Holy is always full of grace and healing for us.  And when we are ready to be as vulnerable as a child, as truthful and honest as Isaiah, we will be approached by God’s healing, purifying love.  It may burn and hurt like a red-hot coal to our lips, but it leaves us able to say, “Send me!” with joy and enthusiasm. 

Our Song of Faith describes God in ways that Isaiah would have loved: 

God is Holy Mystery, beyond complete knowledge, above perfect description.

Yet, in love, the one eternal God seeks relationship.

So God creates the universe and with it the possibility of being and relating.

God tends the universe, mending the broken and reconciling the estranged.

God enlivens the universe, guiding all things toward harmony with their Source.

With the Church through the ages, we speak of God as one and three:

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We also speak of God as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, God, Christ, and Spirit, Mother, Friend, and Comforter, Source of Life, Living Word, and Bond of Love, and in other ways that speak faithfully of the One on whom our hearts rely, the fully shared life at the heart of the universe.

May we have the courage to be vulnerable to the Holy Mystery, and may we find deep healing and purpose in God’s loving action. Amen

Healing the broken hearted.

Step right up, come and see, for one day only, the spectacular, the miraculous, the amazing Jesus of Nazareth, Healer extraordinaire, to cure all your troubles right before your eyes!

Ever wonder if this is what Peter and the other three disciples had in mind when they went searching for Jesus the morning after the miraculous healing?  How they didn’t just look for him, they hunted him.  And when they found him, they wanted to bring him back home, where the whole of Capernaum waited.  The disciples were excited.  They knew they had a hit on their hands, and they could probably have set up shop in town and sell tickets to see the one and only greatest healer on earth.  Obviously, Jesus realized it too, and maybe just maybe he got up early because he needed to turn to God to figure out what to do next.  Should he settle down and get rich and famous, like most doctors did back in those days?  Or was he to be more than a local healer?

He knew that places like Capernaum didn’t have a lot of doctors or good healthcare.  Doctors were for the rich and powerful Roman elite who could afford a Greek physician.  Hospitals didn’t become widespread until Christianity was made legal by Constantine.  They didn’t become separate from the church until
King Henry the 8^th, that infamous fellow with disposable spouses, took over monasteries and churches alike.  In fact, even today, one of the best run hospitals in Alberta, Lamont, still is affiliated with the United Church and its mission statement boldly proclaims access to all people, a faith in God and a trust in the healing ministry of Jesus as well as the United Church Crest on their walls.

So back to our scriptures, healing has always been a core element of prayer and ministry of the ancestors of our faith.  Healing all people is part of the understanding of what we are to be about as Christians.  Our worship time is to be a chance to check our spiritual pulses.  Are we running an emotional fever? Are we needing a check up with God?  How are our love skills, our forgiveness reflexes, our justice impulses?  Do we need a booster shot in our immunity to evil and oppression?  Do we need stronger doses of prayer?

Jesus didn’t just heal people from a poor community.  It was startling in who he had healed.  Simon Peter’s mother-in-law.  Aside from the fact that this means the first followers of Jesus were married, it also points to the fact that he reached out to a senior, and a female at that.  While men were measured by how hard they worked and how many fish they could put on the table, women were often not even mentioned by name unless they were extraordinary.  And a mother-in-law living with her son-in-law would have been very unusual to say the least.  It must have been a full household if Simon and his brother lived there as well as a mother-in-law, and we might assume a wife and maybe even some children.  Mothers lived with their sons more than their daughters and were not seen as a contributor to the household coffers.  Even today, seniors can struggle to find a place to live, some end up bouncing from one household to another, living with different children who take turns, having no stability or ownership over who they live with. 

Peter’s mother-in-law had a fever, something that they had no aspirin to treat.  Some fevers went away, some fevers spread throughout the household and the whole community.  Some lasted days, some hours, and some were dreadfully fatal.  And in that day and age, people were helpless to treat it.

Jesus wasn’t helpless.  And he wasn’t dismissive of this senior in need.  He showed compassion and reached out with words of comfort and inclusion.  Words of healing that touched her soul and reminded her she still had gifts to share.  Healing that transformed her into a giver of hospitality and generosity.  She became the welcoming hostess who greeted and fed the newcomers to her household and helped them feel at ease.

In fact, she became the first convert to Christianity.  We are all called to love and serve others with compassion and justice.  She started in with joy and enthusiasm to just that.  The four disciples didn’t serve, they didn’t do anything we can see that was loving, except grouse at Jesus that he had abandoned them to sneak out and pray.  They chose to be grumpy and controlling instead of generous.  They chose not to think about what Jesus was doing and why he was doing it, they didn’t want to know how to pray or how to care for others, they just wanted to bring him back to the waiting crowds like a pet monkey that would wow the audience and mark them as the heroes of the town.

In the end, Jesus wasn’t called to stay put and stay local.  He heard the call to be a messenger of hope and love to those who didn’t fit in, who were ignored or dismissed or bullied by society.  He heard the call to preach wholeness to everyone who would listen.  Healing was not the core purpose of his ministry, nor was it going to be commercialized or politicized.  It was a free gift he was offering.

Who are the people who need a welcome today?  Who are the people feeling victimized by politics, who are being told that their access to healthcare will be controlled by politicians?  Who are being told that their minds and hearts and souls are not as important as their reproductive organs?  Who are having their hospitals bombed as retribution for terrorism?

Just as Lamont Hospital welcomes all that come through their doors, just as Jesus healed everyone who came to him, just as God heals the broken-hearted, let us be a safe space of welcome for the fearful, the lonely, the ostracized, the alienated and the desperate. God loves them all and wants to heal them, heart, mind, body and soul of their fevers of fear and anxiety.  May we, who have been healed, welcome and serve all who come into our lives!

Searching and knowing

There is a t-shirt that used to be in bible stores with a caption of “Moses was a murderer, Noah was a drunk, Jacob was a con man, Isaiah preached in his birthday suit, Job went bankrupt, Rahab was a prostitute, Martha was bossy, Mary Magdalene was mentally ill and Mary, Jesus’ mom was an unwed pregnant teen who became a refugee.  If God called them, how do we know that God isn’t calling us?

It's a great t-shirt.  We often may struggle with the idea that God is calling us.  How can God call me when I am not whatever I think God really needs?  Surely someone else, anyone else is better than me.  And we put off answering that still small voice, that nagging sense of being lured into a bigger vision, a bolder idea, a stronger stance.  “No, not me! I’m not called to run for town council, join the library board, speak up about racism, knit mitts for homeless people, buy Tylenol for Ukrainians, attend a rally in support of school boards, fill out a survey about pensions, put solar paneling on my roof, drive an alcoholic home, sit next to a hurting person, sign a petition about the environment or get out and vote on a contentious bylaw.  Somebody else is being called to do that.  Not me.  And yet every day people here in this space do exactly this.  They buy that cup of soup on a cold day for some stranger they just met, they buy granola bars for folks who have no homes to go to, they jumpstart stalled cars or push them out of snowbanks.  Ordinary people called to do what seems like something insignificant, yet what may be insignificant to us may be huge to those who see it or experience it.

How do we know we are called?  How do we know what we are called to?  Knowing is complicated, and when we hear the claim that God knows us can be both a gift and a challenge. 

If you have ever tried to study a foreign language, the word “to know” can be tricky. In French, they have two different words for knowing, connais and sais – connais is more about relationships with people and places, and sais is more about facts and skills, knowledge.  Hebrew is the same way, there is “Yada” which is know, and “Bantah” which is understand. So if you hear someone saying "yada, yada, yada", it means, "I know, I know, I know".

It’s one thing to know someone or something, it’s another thing to understand them. When we read Psalm 139, it is both yada and bantah.  God knows of me and God knows me.  In detail.  In depth.  Right down to the dna level and right up to how I will respond to anything that happens.  The thought of God knowing me both Yada and Bantah is, well, quite honestly, more than a little unnerving.  There’s a limit to how much I want anyone to know me.  Even spouses don’t know each other at that level.  Parents find their children to be mysteries, and siblings who have known each other all their lives can be surprised by choices and thoughts.  No one we know are in our lives from sunup to sun down.  No one we know have been in our lives since we were conceived.  It’s an extraordinary claim for an extraordinary faith in an extraordinary God.

That much transparency is uncomfortable.  We humans have been hiding from being known like that as long as we’ve been telling stories.  Some rabbis say that the day God wandered into Eden looking for Adam and Eve and realized that they were hiding from him, trying to cover their nakedness from him and each other, that’s the day God cried.  We even hide from ourselves.  M. Scott Peck wrote a book about people who lied so much they started to believe themselves!  He said that those kinds of people are really hard to help because they are so committed to their own lies.

That’s very different than Nathanael, the one Jesus praised for his honesty and transparency.  Nathanael had no guile in him, which means he was not sneaky or underhanded or manipulative.  He was honest to the point of rudeness when he said, “can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Nathanael was described by Jesus as a model citizen, the kind of person we would think deserved to be called to some kind of holy ministry.  He’s special, he’s honest, he’s transparent.  And yet, he’s not mentioned again other than that he was in a group that saw the resurrected Jesus.  He didn’t write any books, he didn’t found any churches, he didn’t go on any missions, he didn’t have any hymns written by him or about him.  This perfect paragon of an Israeli disappeared from the bible completely.

Instead, Peter with his wishy washy faith, the big stinky fisherman who denied Jesus before he died, and Paul who hunted Jesus followers down in order to lock them up and torture them, these are the people that were called to turn the world upside down with.  Once again, the perfect people, the beautiful people, the people who had in their yearbook “most likely to succeed” were not the ones God turned to.  God called the ones who didn’t know their own potential, ones with self-doubt and insecurity.

God called, in other words, people like you and me.  Flawed, imperfect, impatient humans.  God still calls us because God knows us and wants to be in relation with us just as God once had a relationship with Adam and Eve.  God sees us just as we are, as beautiful creatures that can share love and hope and joy to everyone we meet.  God calls us to share our light of hope in daily acts of random kindness, to stranger and family alike.  God calls us to tiny acts and large acts alike.  May we have the courage and the faith to trust that God calls us because God sees us as we really are!

Surprising Views

Ever noticed how addicting excuses are?  We can’t try that, it’s been done before.  It’s too risky, it’s too new, nobody will like it, the community won’t care, people are too busy, life’s not like that, we don’t have any power over the situation, people don’t change, and on and on.  The excuses are legion, and we all have endless supplies of them that we can whip out at a moment’s notice.  Risk is often seen as scary, especially when we are anxious about the state of our world.

The continued presence of smoke from forest fires, the rising cost of groceries, the challenges of renegotiating mortgages, and the sticker shock of school supplies do not help.  We can feel like we are laboring on giant pyramids for the sake of folks like Jeff Bezos who reported earning $75 billion dollars in 2020 while the average warehouse worker for Amazon won’t be a billionaire any time soon.

New pharaohs are in our world, and the poverty of the folks that support their pyramid or yacht building schemes are also real. The view is bleak. But Exodus tells the tale of a God who has a different and surprising view of the world, “I have seen the affliction of my people in Egypt, I have heard their cries under those who oppress them; I have felt their sufferings.” That is as true today as it was several thousands of years ago.

Of course, Moses came up with a million excuses as to why he couldn’t help.  He was a nobody shepherd doing the worst jobs for minimum wages.  He was even a convicted murderer who had left Egypt after killing some Egyptian overseers for abusing their workers.  He was a poor public speaker. He knew he was the wrong man for the job.

God had other views.  God knew that Moses had grown up in an Egyptian palace and had an insider’s knowledge of Pharaoh’s court.  Moses also had an insider’s understanding of the religious system, the priests, the court officials, the racism that had been institutionalized from before he was born.  As an adopted child, he would have experienced a disconnect, on one hand, he would have learned his family’s culture, but on the other hand he would have been pampered and set aside from them.  He would have been a member of both the elite and the oppressed, and not fully comfortable in either.  No wonder he attacked the Egyptian overseers.  Like most middle managers, they didn’t think about what the system was doing to the people under them.  They went with the status quo and didn’t question orders from higher ups.  Curiosity, empathy and imagination were not part of their mindset. And they certainly were quite happy with their place in the world.

Peter was also happy with his place in the world.  In last week’s reading, he said Jesus was the Messiah, the anointed one specially chosen by God to bring about change for the oppressed people, a new Moses.  And Jesus was happy, calling him the rock on which he would build his new community, his new network.  And then Jesus took Peter down a peg when Peter tried to be his image consultant.  Peter wanted Jesus to tone down his rhetoric, keep things positive and light, stop talking about sacrifice and pain.  Jesus unequivocally rejected that.  Watering down the message was not on, and that if Peter wasn’t on board with that, Peter could find another rabbi to follow.  Harsh words, and a difficult criticism to accept.  But crucial for the vision Jesus had in mind, establishing a movement that was so radical it would have ripple effects for centuries. He didn’t want to hear Peter’s excuses as to why that couldn’t be done or couldn’t be said.

The famous rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan!” would have been a real shock to Peter’s ego.  It would have startled and surprised him, like an emotional burning bush.  He would have had to rethink all his assumptions that he held about what a messiah was, what Jesus was up to, what the future held in store, what he was prepared to sacrifice in order to live into the expectations Jesus had of him.  It shocked him into a new sense of mission, and a new sense of purpose.  It was both humbling and hurtful, and reminded Peter that he still had a lot to learn.  Shocks hurt.

Shocks like the burning bush.  Moses didn’t expect it, and his curiosity got the better of him.  Rabbis often say that there were many shepherds wandering by, but only Moses got curious about what was happening.  How long had God waited for someone curious and humble to come along?

Many people long for a new Moses to come along and fix things, a new Jesus to end their suffering.  They look for strong people that will do their thinking for them.  It’s hard work being open to the shocking divine mystery, to hearing the surprise, to learning to be humble and open, to letting go of the sure-fire easy answer that they know will quickly fix everything.  They don’t want to think about the systems they are caught up in or the oppression they are perpetuating.  Unfortunately, there are no easy answers.  We will need to use our curiosity, empathy and imagination, while sacrificing our excuses, our safety and our comfortable habits in order to bring about the real change God is calling us to.  But when we have a clear and noble, God-given purpose that is centred on love of neighbor, we can work together in joy!  We are called, after all, to be the Church: to celebrate God's presence, to live with respect in Creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil, to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope.

In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us. We are not alone. Thanks be to God!