Where to Sit?

 How many people remember playing musical chairs?  How did it go?  There would be a circle of chairs and there would always be one less chair than there were kids.  We would circle around the chairs until the music stopped then everyone would rush to sit on the nearest chair.  The person who was left standing was eliminated from the circle, another chair was removed and we would do it again until there was only one chair left.  How many of you remember winning?  How many of you remember having to wait a long time on the sideline until it was time to start again?  What did it feel like to win?  What did it feel like to be eliminated?

I don’t ever remember being the winner, although I think I made it to three chairs once.  Winning is not something that we humble Christians are supposed to intentionally go aggressively after.  And maybe that’s why the Christian message has fallen out of favor; it’s not about winning at life against all adversity, or being the best and lording it over all the other contestants.  I know I am a dreadful competitor, I really want to win. Last spring I was in several contests for Toastmasters, and finding my way into a humble mindset was really difficult.  I didn’t like how competative I became, or even entitled and selfish I felt.  In the end I reminded myself that I was doing it for fun. 

So much of life can become a competition.  Where we sit at a banquet can certainly be a part of that.  How close to the bridal party will we get to sit?  Where will our table be at the Rotary Dinner or the Chamber of Commerce awards night? What about the AU President’s Breakfast or the Mayor’s Lunch? Who will we sit beside at the Senior’s pancake breakfast?

They can be ways we measure our status and importance to other people.  That’s what Jesus saw when he was invited to dinner one evening.  He probably was remembering Proverbs 25:6-7, which says “Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told, “Come up here,” than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.”  Wise words from the scriptures that he saw in action that day.  Here he was, guest of a pharisee, invited for supper and the nerve he had, reminding them that scripture taught not to be pushy and aggressive.  Not to treat dinner like a game of musical chairs, where you try to win status and importance before everyone else.

I suspect some of you might be saying, “So what?  I’m not going out to dinner parties with famous movie stars or politicians.  I’m not dining with the rich and famous these days.  Even before Covid, I didn’t do that.”

We might not be dining or hobnobbing with important people, but I dare say we may still feel the itch to prove ourselves as worthy or important or influential.  We may feel like we are entitled to being treated as the special individuals that we hope we are.  When I talk to hairdressers, they tell me that the clients who can be demanding and finicky are even more demanding and finicky since Covid.  We hear stories of the ‘mass resignation’ of people in the restaurant and retail industries because they are fed up with being treated like servants to be ordered about.  Others are doing what they are calling a ‘silent resignation’ where they stop going above and beyond in doing their jobs.  No more overtime, no more working through lunchbreaks to prove that they are committed to the company, that’s not happening anymore.  About 24% of employees think that their bosses care for them, which means that most working people feel their bosses don’t care at all.  Getting to be at home for folks meant a break from the hustle, the harassment, the watercooler gossip sessions, the entitled customers.  And they don’t want to go back.

It sounds like they are tired of playing the adult version of musical chairs! Yet it’s easier said than done.  We may be thinking that we’re entitled to more respect than we actually are.  Like the average driver who thinks that they are above average in their driving skills, we may assume that we are better than others because we are us!

Jesus taught us that the game of musical chairs is not what God wants us to play.  This game assumes that there’s scarcity we must compete for, including scarcity of influence. Jesus said our seeking importance can become an idol.  In our craving for status, we can be actually embracing fear, fear of others, fear of the unknown, fear of our own ability to deal with life’s challenges. 

How do we let go of this game of musical chairs? Our reading from Hebrews suggest we do it through worship, community, ministry of hospitality.  We do it through sexual relationships that are not competitive or dominating, and through money decisions free from status seeking and influence peddling.  Perhaps donating to a charity instead of buying a vote. Remembering that God is with us, we shall not be afraid, what can mere humans do to us?  Nothing can separate us from God who loves us, not even our seating arrangement and we sit beside.

Someone wrote: If you are sitting in public and a stranger sits down beside you, simply stare straight ahead and say, “did you bring the money?” Christians have a reputation of saying to strangers, “that’s my pew” or “that’s my chair.” God calls us to say instead, “come sit with me and be welcome in this pew”.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a game of musical chairs where the music never stops, the chairs face inward so we can see each other and there are always enough chairs for everyone. Thanks be to God for this blessing.

Homecoming

I’ll never forget the day I came back to church.  I had grown up going to church every week, but once I moved away to Edmonton after high school, I vowed never to step foot in a church again.  As far as I was concerned, church was for hypocrites and Pharisees, people more interested in telling us how bad and wrong we were.  I was done!

Just like the prodigal son, tired of the family dynamics, tired of his bossy older brother telling him what to do, one day up and told off his dad and high-tailing it out of town, leaving the father shocked, the older brother saying, “I told you so!” and the poor mother in tears, weeping and wailing as the yelling escalated until the young man stormed off, never to return.

The family conflict was very serious.  In the time of Jesus, his culture was steeped in honor and shame.  Families were very hierarchical and competitive. Men battled for status like chickens in a coop, constantly pecking at each other to prove their superiority.  Honor was the touchstone of every action, and when honor was diminished by a child, the whole family was judged.  Honor killings were real.  From the point of view of North American values, it is abhorrent, but in the days of Jesus, a breaking of honor could result in a family losing so much status that their very livelihoods were threatened.  Just as Joseph in our Christmas story had the responsibility to restore his family’s honor by sending Mary away, in this story, the father had the responsibility to discipline his son, and could even have his son stoned according to the law.  By demanding his share of the inheritance, the son had disgraced and dishonored his family in the eyes of the community.  By allowing his son to get away with it, the father had disgraced and dishonored himself in the community, proving that he was a weak man and a terrible leader.

That was compounded when the young man returned.  The father again disgraced himself in public by running to his son and welcoming him so lovingly.  Again, his emotional excess would have been condemned by all who saw it. 

Jesus used this shocking story to attack the honor system and the claims of superiority that the Pharisees were asserting when they criticized Jesus for socializing with dishonorable and shameful people.  He consistently connected with those who had been hurt and victimized by the high expectations and competitive toxic culture that left people feeling hopeless and excluded.

We may not be shaped by an honor culture the way the Pharisees are, but our culture still needs to return home to a healthier way of relating to one another.  Many of you have heard of the term ‘toxic masculinity’, which is when men feel the pressures of cultural expectation to be tough, to be unemotional and to seek power over others to gain status.  Even 5-year-old boys are told to not cry, to suck it up, not be a sissy.  Toxic masculinity encourages emotional detachment and in worst cases can lead to violence against women and children.  When world leaders start wars and don’t know how to stop them even when they are losing, that’s the ultimate in toxic masculinity.

We also still get caught up in the shame/blame dichotomy.  It’s very addictive.  If I don’t feel good about myself, I can blame others for my emotional dis-ease.  If I struggle with addictions to unhelpful habits or obsessions, if I feel that there’s a huge gap between who I want people to think I am and who I am in private, if I don’t want to admit that I make mistakes, and avoid taking ownership of my actions, I can get caught up in flip flopping between feeling shame about who I am, and blaming others for the life I am experiencing.  The shame-blame game can escalate until we drive off to Ottawa and deny that our constant honking and partying is not hurting the people around us. 

How do we come home?  How do we break the shame-blame flip flop?  How do we get the big party and the fattened calf and the bear hugs from someone so incredibly happy to see us return? 

The prodigal son hit bottom, feeding the pigs.  It was the worst job possible for a boy raised in a kosher household, unimaginable as far as the Pharisees were concerned.  But he realized that the only one who had landed him in the pigsty was himself.  He chose to admit that he had screwed up.  We practice that every Sunday when we say words like “When I kept silence, my body wasted away, while I groaned all day long.  Then I acknowledged my sin to you, my guilt I did not hide.” (Psalm 32) In church talk, that’s called confession, or in modern psychological jargon, accountability.  When we acknowledge where we’ve gone wrong, where we’ve missed the mark, we shift from shame and blame to accountability and vulnerability and that, my friends, frees us in so many beautiful ways!

Many of us have gone through turmoil and conflict these last few years, not knowing if or how we would have a chance to see family and friends.  Many of us have said goodbye to toxic relationships and wonder if they will ever be saved.  Lent is when we take time to become more accountable to ourselves and others so that we can experience the amazing love and healing that our loving parent God has for us.  The joy that can be ours for the asking, the healing of our deepest shames as we come home to a loving embrace and a party that never ends.  When I wandered back into that church so many years ago, I realized that the biggest hypocrite in the building was me.  As the tears streamed down my face, I had a sense that I was starting an amazing journey that would take me on many adventures with many wonderful people.  That there is always a way back home into love.  May it be so for us all!

Who’s got the power?

When I read Paul’s story, I immediately thought of that commercial with the pink energizer bunny, and the jingle, “I’ve got the Power”, resonating with the drum beating.  And on days like we’ve had, with the heat beating down on us like an everlasting drum, well, it’s hard to feel energized.  I remember a few years ago hearing that it was so hot in Italy, people were burning their hands when they went to touch their doorknobs.  Not so hard to imagine after this week.  The energy to work in such temperatures is hard to muster.  Even construction crews are working shorter shifts on the rigs and ending their days early to prevent heat exhaustion.  The power has gone out of us as we wait and pray for rain and a break from the sun.

Power is one of those things we don’t like to talk about much.  We are fine with talking about power in terms of electricity, and about power of politicians way over some place far away.  We’re much less comfortable with the power we might have.  Or might need.  Or might be abusing or might have abused in the past. Psychologists talk about three needs that every person has, competence, connection and autonomy.  Autonomy is the power to make decisions and choices for oneself.  But sometimes that power can step towards making decisions and choices for others.  Which is a good thing.  I don’t want to make decisions on where to build a generating station in the neighborhood, and I’m quite glad to delegate that to provincial and municipal leaders.  Where the danger lies is when the folks we delegate the power to make choices forget that they are to make choices for all and think only about the best choices for themselves.

We saw that in our previous town council.  I fear we are seeing that in our provincial leadership that ignores the call to have residential school history in our curriculum, public parks for people who can’t afford resorts, protected areas like our Rockies to stay safe from coal mining, accessible health care, fair dealings for health professionals and teachers and more.

But what does that have to do with us?  And more importantly, the scriptures?  Jesus had power to heal those who needed healing and yet when he was back home where he had grown up, in the midst of all the negative, critical, verbal attacks, his power was lessened.  The home crowd had power over him.  With their nitpicking, they exerted their power over Jesus.  They wanted to put him in his place.  They wanted him to remember he was nothing special, just a small-town boy with delusions of grandeur that he didn’t deserve and certainly shouldn’t inflict on them.

Can you imagine telling someone that they shouldn’t make the world a better place, or even worse, that they can’t and will never make the world a better place?  We would never do that, especially not to a loved one.  And yet, we often do.  I find something wrong in the way this person waters their plants or how that person drives their car.  I easily slip into judgement and when that judgement is spoken without any loving intentions, it robs the power from the person hearing it.

Judgement is addictive and judgement is easy.  It leaves me feeling more powerful than the person I am judging.  I meet my need for autonomy but in a way that competes with my neighbor and erodes my love for my neighbor.  Judgement is why the residential schools were so toxic for so many, and why the conversation about them is so hard today.

Paul talked about another way.  Instead of competing for power, he recognized that it was a competition he could never win.  And he would know.  As Saul, the persecutor of the Christians, he had a fierce reputation for being so judgmental and disparaging that the Temple authorities gave him a letter empowering him to go out and not just judge, but condemn any who were corrupting their faith with the teachings of Jesus.  They saw their faith as competing for power over people’s souls and sent Saul to stop it.  To say he was knocked off his high horse is putting it mildly.  Saul went blind and had to humbly ask for healing from the very people he had been sent to judge.  The people he thought he had power over, were the ones with the power over him.

He learned firsthand that it wasn’t his power, or the power of Ananias, his healer, that made him able to see again.  And it wasn’t a competition between him and Ananias over who had more power or more holiness.  It was God’s power that healed him.  This was the key.  

God used Paul more when Paul was weak, than when Paul tried to do it all himself.  God’s power flowed through Paul, transforming his weakness into a testimony for this different way of living that continues to inspire and transform.

There are days when I feel as weak and judgmental as Paul, and I wonder if I am making a difference.  There are days when I hear stories about the abuse of power that break my heart.  And then there are the stories that encourage and empower me.  The fellow who drove all the way from Edmonton and ended up coming back for seconds, buying 11 strawberry shortcakes!  The angel in our congregation who shared 8 shortcakes with her apartment complex, the neighbor who bought three to say thank you to friends despite being uncomfortable with this different way of doing our tea, the folks who paid so others could eat and the many saints who worked hard not just to serve up 80 desserts, but also to stay patient and calm despite the hustle and bustle and dreadful heat.  Especially them who worked hard to be nice to each other, apologize when necessary, and keep focused on loving and serving.

Jesus didn’t want power over his family and hometown.  He didn’t want power over his disciples.  He didn’t give up his power to the naysayers and complainers, and he didn’t punish them for their insolence.  He gave his power to all in the form of stories and healings.  He gave his power to his disciples, telling them to go out and share the power of love with everyone they met.  He told them that nothing could take that power of love from them, not even the dust of a judgmental community.  If you want to read a great article on the power of that love, and how it continues today, check out Wilma Derksen’s interview in this month’s Broadview Magazine.

And ask yourself, where do you get your power?  How are you doing with the struggle to not be competitive?  And who will you empower to go out and make a difference in the world?  God has sent you to the people, just as Jesus sent the 12, and just as Paul in his weakness was sent to empower all who heard or read his story.  May we find many opportunities to do just that.  Amen.

What do you sign up for?

This is the week to sign up for fall programs.  The multiplex has their registration night on Wednesday, clubs host open houses, organizations start advertising their activities, and everyone hopes that people will come back and new folks join.  We have a smorgasbord of things we can try in this community, from pottery to hand bells to yoga and gymnastics, hockey, photography and golf.  It’s hard to choose.  Some people do the same thing year after year and others like to try something new every year.

I love signing up for new groups and trying out new things.  I have lost track of all the different stuff I tried at one time or another.  There’s something wonderful in taking the brave step to see if I can decorate a cake or macrame an owl.  For a moment the whole world feels open with great possibilities.  Even though I never became a great cake decorator or a prima ballerina, I had fun trying.

The spirit of exploration is something I tried to encourage in my children too, as they grew up.  They could choose an activity, something physical for after school.  One year, the gymnastics coach came up to us and asked if my 8 year-old son would like to join the competitive boy’s team.  There were a few extra practises that would be involved, and a few more fees to pay, but he could join the pre-Olympic training program.  Apparently, it wasn’t too late for 8 year-olds to start to prepare to compete, but it was too late for his 6-year-old sister who should have started competitive at the age of five.  Wow.

How many more practises were needed?  Something like 4 days a week and two hours on Saturday.  Once they got older, it would be 5 days and all Saturday.  For a seven-year old! I really didn’t know what to say.  I knew that some of my friends had their kids in a different program every night of the week.  One of my friends had her kids in Guides, karate, swimming, guitar, dance and voice lessons.  They seemed to thrive on it and one of them even went to Julliard.  Others built their lives around hockey every night and on the weekends, or indoor soccer, but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around being in the gym that many hours a week.  In the end, we decided as a family to keep gymnastics as a fun activity that the kids did for several years, and they can still do cartwheels or flips or fancy tricks on the trampoline from time to time.  One kid even earned some money as an assistant coach one year.  But they never went to the Olympics and they never competed.

One of the things it made me do is look at what values I believed in, and what did I want to pass on to my children.  I believed in doing one’s best, working hard, and keeping fit.  I didn’t believe in living vicariously through my children’s successes, or that competition was the be all and end all of childhood.  I wanted my kids to have fun and enjoy life’s opportunities, and if something had become a real passion for them, I would have supported that to the best of my abilities.  But my picture for them was not to become famous or rich, but well-rounded and healthy.

God’s vision for us is not to become famous or rich.  God’s vision is not just about us as individuals either.  God’s vision is bigger than a parent’s for a child or a coach’s for a star player or a teacher’s for a classroom.  God’s vision is for nations and countries and cultural groups as a whole.  God wants to shape whole nations and even the world like a potter shapes clay. 

What is it that God calls us as a nation to?  What is it that God wants us to repent of, to turn from?  What does God envision shaping us into as a potter shapes clay?

What if we looked at the world through God’s eyes and asked what we thought God would want from us?  What if we could see the storms on the East coast, the melting permafrost, the vanishing glaciers, the starving polar bears and asked ourselves what Canada would need to look like to be living in respect in creation?  What if we took seriously the scripture, “For God so loved the World”?

As Jesus put it, who among us would build a skyscraper without making sure they had a decent bank loan, engineering teams building the blueprints, competent contractors and skilled trades workers to put the skyscraper together?  Yet we either can’t or won’t look past our short-term pleasures and needs to the long term issues of justice and sustainability.  We have an election coming up that will probably focus on character assassinations, oil jobs and avoiding racist comments.  Where will the long-term vision be found, not just for Canada but for the whole world?  Who will ask the tough questions, like why women politicians who talk about the environment have death threats and foul language when they are out in public with their children?  What kind of world do we want for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren?

God calls us to look at our priorities.  Jesus calls us to test our loyalties.  And our United Church creed reminds us that our faith is about love in action, to live with respect in creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil.  To repent and turn to God who can make all things new.  Let’s sign up to live into our creed, to listen to our potter, and heed the call of Christ, our coach and teacher.

Dear God, help us rejoice in signs of hope like bamboo cutlery and paper straws, electric cars and soap made from carbon capture technology.  Help us also roll up our sleeves and commit to loving this beautiful world you have created.  Amen.