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

Feed my Sheep!

 Jesus keeps popping up in the most unlikely places in Easter resurrection stories.  The locked room, the road to Emmaus, the empty tomb, the gathering a week later with our good friend, Doubting Thomas.  Every time, it is unexpected, and it is life changing. 

“Feed my sheep”, Jesus asked Peter, again and again.  Poor Peter felt nagged and pestered.  And no wonder.  He just wanted to spend time with this illusive, here one moment and gone the next Jesus who popped up when Peter least expected him, then would disappear for days and weeks.  Who knew where he would show up next?  Or when or why or how?

And my goodness, he was disruptive when he showed up.  Jesus didn’t let the disciples slip back into the old patterns of behaviors.  Peter and the Zebedee brothers were fishermen before they met Jesus, and went back to their familiar ways.  They went back to what they knew best.  They went back to the life that they had been only too excited to leave.  It can’t have been much of a job and they couldn’t have had much of a passion for it if they were so quick to abandon it the first time.  Jesus didn’t let them stay stuck though, oh no.  Jesus had better things in mind for them all.

I think it’s very natural to go back to comfortable habits when we are stressed.  Teachers and parents often talk about regression of children when they experience challenges.  When a three-year-old gets a baby brother or sister, they will often forget what they have learned and might start sucking their thumbs more or have more temper tantrums.  Older children may cling more to their parents.  At a wedding I did last summer, teachers were telling me that the children were two to three years behind in their maturity levels and social skills because of trauma.  It happens.  During Covid, I found myself turning into a computer game zombie when I wasn’t at work.  I slipped into old habits again, bad ones.  I had to reclaim the positive habits and become very intentional about substituting the good habits for the bad.  It takes a lot of effort and time to get out of our ruts.

Sometimes going back is the only way to go forward.  I remember when my children were going into junior high school, and we needed me to be working.  The idea of going back to work gave me panic attacks because I thought that the only job I would get was flipping burgers at MacDonald's.  It scared me to think about brushing off my old resume.  My stomach was in knots and I didn’t know what to do.  I went to Naramata Centre that summer and took all my fear into it’s labyrinth.  As I walked that big twisty path, I found my shoulders loosened, my thoughts slowed down and I relaxed for the first time in months.  As I reached the centre of the labyrinth, I had a sudden picture in my mind of being in a rollercoaster, at the very top of a tall hill, ready to go down in a steep dive.  And a voice saying, “buckle up, you’re in for a wild ride!”  Not actually a comfortable message as I hate rollercoasters with a passion!  8 months later I was working at City Hall, 2 years after that I was working in a religious bookstore, a year later, I was studying in Halifax to become a minister, and that led me to Athabasca where I still am today.  It has indeed been a wild ride.  Would I have gotten that same sense of calm without walking a labyrinth?  Probably, but labyrinths have been my fishing boat, my ‘go to’ when I’m stuck.

It's like the scene in a favorite movie of mine, the Princess Bride.  Inigo Montoya, the Spanish swordfighter, is separated from Fezzik, the giant strong man, and remembers that if they got separated, they were to go back to where they started.  Inigo returns to the village, is reunited with Fezzik, and they lived happily ever after.

What is your beginning?  What is your labyrinth or fishing boat?  Where did you first have a sense of something greater than yourself, where you found peace or hope?  What sorts of things help you look beyond the addictions we use to fix the stresses of our lives?

In the end, the only question that really matters is the one Jesus asked Peter.  In the Good Friday stories, Peter lied three times.  Jesus questioned him on the shore three times “Do you love me?” and this time Peter told the truth.

Do we love Jesus?  Do we love the healing we have found, the courage we have felt along the path of faith, do we love those moments where the stories of Jesus help us get unstuck?  Do we love working and playing together in this community that is striving to follow Jesus’ footsteps?  Do we hear the call to feed the hungry sheep of our world who are looking for help to break out of their own ruts?  Do we remember making a difference through socks for the homeless, prayer shawls for the heartbroken, coins to heal places like Ukraine, meals to feed the hungry in this town, and building safe spaces where all will feel welcome?  Are we willing to love Jesus and experiment with living out his teachings?  And will we feed his sheep as he has fed us with wine and bread and hope and love?  We can do all this, when we remember that together, we can do and be more than we can as individuals.  When we seek Jesus, when we dare to dream and hope and throw our nets in new directions, we will find Jesus at the lakeshore and be fed by his love and compassion.  May it be so for us all!