Corrupt Generations

One phrase that jumps out of today's scripture is "save yourselves from this corrupt generation". Peter preached this as part of his Pentecost sermon, and it resonated with his listeners. How many of us feel like we are living in the midst of a corrupt generation? With stories about some grocery store chains adding the meat packaging when they calculate the price of chicken thighs, or the government rejecting recommendations for constituency boundaries for the next election, or Canada Revenue Agency being scammed for millions of dollars, who wouldn't want to be saved from a corrupt culture? Peter’s audience sure did.

Peter’s solution? Repentance, baptism and commitment to a life of discipleship. Baptism was free to everyone, no strings attached. And of course, that was just the start. Baptism welcomed the new disciples into a big, vibrant conversation about faith, God, and personal and cultural transformation.

Peter invited them to be transformed as he had been transformed. Peter had witnessed his beloved leader going through the farce of an unjust trial where the decision was made by a court more interested in political popularity than justice and fairness. And Peter ran away, afraid for his life. Then he hid behind locked doors, anxiously wondering when his arrest and execution would happen. The transformation from coward to leader was unexpected and he attributed it to his Easter experiences of the Risen Christ like some disciples had on the road to Emmaus.

Unexpected transformation can come in many ways. It can be dramatic and instant like Mary and Salome finding the tomb empty. It can be quiet and slow like on an eleven-kilometer walk as described in our gospel reading today. That's not a five-minute stroll down to the mailbox!

Today we're most likely to experience a long journey with a stranger by carpooling to an event or taking a bus tour or airplane trip, but back then folks were expected to travel to Jerusalem for Passover. And unless they were rich or had mobility issues or were pregnant, they didn't use donkeys. Donkeys were a luxury, not for regular people. And regardless of how you travel, a stranger traveling with you can be the worst thing or the best thing for such a long trip. Like astronauts flying around the moon and back for days in a tiny space with a broken toilet, the time spent together can be transformative. Just as Jeremy Hansen said in their recent press conference, the astronauts now have become good friends and also have new perspectives and hope for the future.

The disciples picked up a hitchhiker and had no idea what was coming.  They discovered that the more they talked to the stranger, the more surprised they were at his ignorance of current affairs, and then amazed at his thorough knowledge of scripture.  They were trying to figure out what had happened.  Was Jesus resurrected?  Was it a hoax?  Was it a hallucination? They weren’t sure.  But they called themselves disciples, and although they are not a part of the official list of 12, they too had followed Jesus, they too had learned his teachings, they too, knew his methods of thinking through complex issues.  And they too knew what disciples of Jesus were called to do.

Disciples are called to test the insights and ideas that come their way.  They are to ask questions.  They are to explore the scriptures, the sacred texts, not as a law book with rules and regulations, but as a road map that may need some redrawing from time to time.  Like astronauts seeing the world from a different angle, scriptures help change our viewpoint.  And scripture helps us explore what God is calling us to through conversation, through logic, through experience.  The disciples said, “this is what we experienced, this is what we know, the tomb is empty.  This is what others are saying.  Now stranger, help us understand what is happening.  Help us make sense of our upside-down world. Help us understand this corrupt generation and how we are being called by God to respond.”

Notice that they didn’t get their full answer until they practiced that first, fundamental Christian discipline of offering hospitality to the stranger.  It was only after they invited him to stay and eat with them that the revelation of who he was transformed them.  It was only when their simple meal of bread and wine was turned into the sacrament of sharing abundance that Jesus had practiced with them that they realized his true identity. This revelation transformed them so much that they ran back the 11 kilometers in the dark to testify to the disciples that Easter was real, Jesus was risen! Transformation was possible, both for individuals and for their corrupt generation that had murdered an innocent man.

Some will say that our generation is not corrupt.  And yet the Guardian newspaper reported this week that the world’s largest oil companies are making more than $30 million an hour in excess profits. Exxon will earn an extra 11 billion, Shell will get 6.8 Billion, and Chevron 9.2 billion if the price continues. The Alberta Government is dismissing the non-partisan report on where to draw political boundaries, and they are excited about new legislature that will protect children from pornography in public libraries while cutting grants to family violence programs.  Now I don’t know about you, but I have never seen a copy of Playboy on the magazine shelves, nor have I ever seen 10 year olds sneaking blue videos out of the libraries, or librarians gleefully lending 12 year olds piles books on how to make money as a sex worker.  Our definitions of what a corrupt generation is may vary from church to church, but we are all called to be disciples that are transformed away from exploitation and manipulation to justice and compassion.

Peter called us to turn from a corrupt generation, by repenting, remembering our baptism, celebrating God’s presence, welcoming strangers, feeding the hungry, comforting the lonely, and being open to new encounters with Jesus when we gather together in the breaking of bread, the celebrating of communion, and the gathering of disciples to celebrate Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope. In Life, in death, in life beyond death, He is risen, halleluiah!

Clique bait

There is a photo going around on the internet that is generating clicks for the United Church.  It’s a recreation of Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting “The Last Supper”. This new picture is designed to stir some controversy, and that’s what it’s done.  First of all, instead of a bunch of male disciples with pale skin, unlike people from the Middle East, and Jesus looking sadly pensive, the photo is of people who are anything but ethnically uniform.  There is a minister who lives with disabilities, there are several immigrants, a francophone, a retired clergy, a drag king wearing white face paint, and way more ladies than the original.  Everyone is part of the United Church of Canada.  And there are only 12 people in it.  Who’s missing?  Jesus!  As the Rev. Doctor Catherine Faith Maclean explained, “Jesus is not there in an individual person.  That’s essential. Because we believe that post resurrection… Jesus is everywhere.”

The picture sends a message to the world that everyone has a place at the table.  That we are a vibrant, inclusive and inspiring denomination. At first, this isn’t surprising.  I doubt there’s any church anywhere that posts a list of who’s not welcome.  But again and again, we hear of people who said they thought they were welcome until.  Until they realized that they were the only person who had a disability or the only one with noisy toddlers or no suit to wear, or nothing to put in the offering plate.

Jesus wanted better than that. He wanted us to practice generous hospitality like Abraham and Sarah, welcoming and feeding strangers without expecting anything in return.  We are to show hospitality to all, for as the scripture says, “by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:1–8, 15–16).

Of course, that’s easier said than done.  It is so easy to form a clique, a group of insiders who roll their eyes at newcomers.  It’s easy to get possessive of a pew and glare daggers at a stranger who takes our spot.  As far as I can tell, no visitor has telepathy to read minds and figure out what is okay.  It’s like the church is littered with traps to navigate.  Don’t know which hymn book is which? Snap! Don’t know what to wear? Trap! Don’t know when to stand or sit?  Gotcha! No wonder so many people are nervous about coming to church.  There are a lot of obstacles in their way, the unspoken rules, the unconscious regulations.  True, we do want to have some obstacles.  There are some very angry hurting people out there, and the latest tragedies like the Minneapolis church shooting or the Gaza church bombing do remind us that we need to be discerning.  But most people we’d like to have come to our congregations are not like that.  And they don’t know that they are welcome.

Someone might say, “Shouldn’t they know?” How?  Who has told them?  Unless we make it easy to ask, they may never know.  That takes gentleness, humbleness and openness on our part.  And enthusiasm, too.  Are we like the fans of K-Pop Demon Hunters or the latest Hollywood blockbuster meeting, talking about our church with a fan’s kind of joy and authenticity? Are we inviting people to come to church like we invite people to a new restaurant we’ve discovered or a new book we like?

Jesus challenged the wealthy to give invitations not to their friends or the people they wanted to impress, but to invite those most unable to give back.  Dinner parties shouldn’t be about keeping score of who was in and who was out, who was socially and financially skilled and who was not able to make a brisket to feed a fancy dinner for 12.  Invite the ones who can’t cook, who don’t have dining rooms, who can’t afford a fancy steak or a caterer.  I’m sure a lot of us squirm at the idea of having a dinner where we invite street people, but that’s in the bible.

Someone once asked, “how do we get rich people interested in coming to our church so that they will donate money and keep us financially stable?”  I wonder what Jesus would say to that!  Who would he tell us to invite?  And how would he want us to invite?  The Right Reverend Jordan Cantwell, former moderator of the United Church of Canada and also our Northern Spirit Regional Growth Director, led a workshop last May.  She said, “Bums in pews is honest but not healthy. It's not good news for our neighbors; it's based on our scarcity not God's abundance. It's exploiting the newcomers' naivety.”

Cantwell suggests four steps:

1. Gentle openness -wait for curiosity, no agenda

2. When asked why, talk about the transformation in your life with integrity and honesty

3. Pray for openness, courage, and for our neighbors that you might learn what they need.

4. Be open to the divine in others, with them not at them, it transforms our faith as we share with them.

How do you hope God will transform the lives of those you invite and help transform our own spiritual lives?  When we ask these questions in honesty and humbleness, we will be inviting all to the table where they will be fed with God’s abundance and grace.  As much as it’s great having a photo that shows our diversity, posters don’t bring in people, Facebook messages or cute sayings don’t bring in people, events don’t bring in people.  People bring in people.  Humble people who have been transformed by God’s love, and who know the power of hospitality to make a real difference when we break cliques and practice radical, humble hospitality.  God, fill us with humble authenticity and enthusiasm for sharing the good news of how you have filled our lives with abundance, hope, faith and love.  Help us practice that love with everyone we meet, and live into your teaching to welcome our neighbors. Amen.

The Spirit of Truth

There’s nothing quite as wonderful as joining together with a bunch of United Church people at a regional event, like we did last weekend in Edmonton.  Our region, Northern Spirit Region, is the largest geographical region in the United Church, covering northeastern British Columbia, the Northwest Territories, and northern Alberta, and the church in Lloydminster has the boundary between Alberta and Saskatchewan running between their front door and back door, so we have a tiny bit of that province as well.  We had about 120 people gather from Jasper, Fort McMurray, Grand Prairie, Athabasca, Barrhead and beyond, all wanting to network and learn about ways to live with deep spirituality, bold discipleship and daring justice.  We sang together, prayed together, worshipped together and conversed together about the challenges and joys of being United Church. There were challenging topics of conversation and joyful, playful chats over coffee or crafts.

On this 100^th anniversary of the United Church of Canada, we also heard some very stark statistics. If nothing changes, in 10 years, there could be less than 2000 people across Canada worshiping in a United Church on an average Sunday morning.  Certainly we have seen and experienced it here in our local congregations.  The increase in suspicion of institutions in general and churches especially has been a growing trend since the 1970’s.

According to a Global News article in 2022, Statistics Canada found only 68 per cent of Canadians 15 or older reported having a religious affiliation. It was the first time that number dipped below 70 per cent since StatsCan began tracking the data in 1985. Even Catholicism, Canada’s largest denomination, was being impacted, reporting 32 per cent of Canadians over 15, down from 46.9 per cent in 1996.  Broadview Magazine reported in 2023 that The United Church of Canada lost a whop­ping 40 percent of affiliates between 2011 and 2021, falling to 1.2 million people from roughly two million. United Church affiliates don’t only skew older — they also skew more white. Among Christian denomina­tions, the United Church has one of the lowest percentages of racialized affili­ates at only 2.5 percent. Compare that to six percent of Anglican or 45 percent of Pentecostal affiliates.

In our Broadview magazine this month, the back page talked about new data. It said that The Pew Research Center Religious Study of 2023-24 points to changes in U.S. religious affiliation. A decline in American religiousness observed since at least 2007 has slowed over the past four to five years. The Pew Research Center noted that the country is heading toward growth among mainline protestants, the group suffering the most during the earlier decline. 'The U.S. is a spiritual place, a religious place, where we've now seen signs of religious stabilization in the midst of longer-term decline,' said a Pew researcher.

The slight but consistent growth in American Christian affiliation beginning in 2022 was limited to mainline protestants, Methodist, Presbyterian, United Church of Christ, Lutheran and Episcopal, the very denominations which led the overall decline since 2007.

In 2025 the only United churches to close so far this year have been Little Britain UC in rural Manitoba, Bluevale UC in rural Ontario, and Rupert, Que., as compared to three per month up to a year ago. Closures are now at least outnumbered by new church plants, new communities of faith, and older traditional churches being rejuvenated by new life.”  That’s quite the article.

So I’d like to invite us to ponder why church matters to us.  I know that it matters to me, because without the church, I would have been a much poorer mother and wife to my family.  An example of the importance of being part of a Christian community happened some twenty years ago on a wintery December morning. I was getting out of the car in the church parking lot when I slammed the door on my thumb in my rush to get to church on time. I screamed and Tim struggled to unlock the door.   Needless to say, my kids were upset and still remember it vividly. We dashed into the church and one of the congregation members helped bandage the thumb. It was the same Sunday that the children's choir was singing an anthem. I remember conducting the choir with one hand while the other was held high in the air to slow down the bleeding. As soon as the song was done, Tim drove me to the hospital. Someone at the church volunteered to take care of my kids, took them home and fed them lunch while we sat in emergency waiting to see if I needed stitches. It seemed to take forever but without the church, it would have been much more traumatizing. They were helpful, kind, and much more resourceful than I would have been on my own. It was quite the lesson in trust! Why does church matter to you?

We are given a spirit of adoption, a spirit of trust. A spirit of truth. It's easy to forget and slip into a spirit of fear, but Pentecost is when the disciples, still traumatized by the loss of their beloved Rabbi, found themselves filled with hope and courage and daring.

Last weekend at the Regional meeting, Michael Blair talked about this very thing, the spirit of Pentecost, and said "If our ministry doesn't give hope, we might as well pack up and go home. We go on like Eeyore and expect people to come. Our ministry needs to be rooted in the spirit. You and I need to stop and pray and listen to what the Spirit is calling us. The Spirit calls us into mischief. Walk around our neighborhood with our eyes open listening for Holy Mystery. Our ministries must center those who are excluded, who are marginalized and oppressed. Not to offer charity but to be transformed through choosing vulnerability over privilege, be open to being taught rather than fixing. When we value others in vulnerability everyone is transformed. Our very presence brings hope. God is calling us to a ministry where we will be empowered by the spirit. We cannot do it on our own, it is too complex. We learn to live in the nuances. We are called to privilege the voices of the marginalized because that is our salvation. That is where our transformation happens. That is where our communities will be restored to life-giving safe places of hope and transformation. May that be our purpose for living into the next 100 years." May it be so for us all!

Why are You Surprised and Disturbed?

Surprise! Another gospel, another shocking surprise!  Jesus pops back into the disciples’ lives when they least expect it.  Luke, John, and Matthew have Jesus popping in and out of their Easter Sunday stories like a jack in a box or a game of whack a mole.  Not just once, but several times.  On the road to Emmaus, behind locked doors, on the Galilee beach with a fish fry, and making sure that the disciples know that he’s no ghost or zombie.  Again and again, he is physically present to people described as reliable and trustworthy witnesses who are completely bewildered at the turn of events.

Not for long, according to our scripture reading this morning.  Peter has transformed in a few short days from someone full of grief and guilt into one who speaks with confidence and authority.  This is not the man who denied Jesus three times.  This is not the man who scolded Jesus and being told “Get behind me you Satan!”

Peter speaks not about himself and his grand ideas but God’s healing power.  The verses before this talk about a man born with weak legs.  He was a beggar at the door of the temple in Jerusalem, dependent upon the generosity of passers by.  Everyone knew him.  To see him standing on his own two feet, hanging on to Peter and John, would have been a surprise and shock.  Impossible!

Peter gave his first sermon spontaneously, and it was powerful because of the beggar standing beside him, a little wobbly perhaps, but a living example of a surprising God in action.

It's amazing to hear that both Jesus and Peter don’t make these extraordinary events about themselves.  Even though Jesus talks about being the Messiah, it is all in service of reconnecting people to God.  When we think that only perfect humans can connect with God, how can anyone feel comfortable approaching the sacred mystery that guides us?  Peter firmly told people he was not the one with healing powers.  Only God had that power, and only through following the teachings of Jesus could Peter help the beggar.  Peter knew that what he had learned from Jesus was rooted in his devotion to God, his understanding of scripture, his participation in worship and prayer in the temple.  Surprise! God wasn’t only found in the scrolls they read, in the old stories of their ancestors, but also in the lives of the people right there in front of them!

Surprise, Jesus was still there.  Even though authorities had done everything physically possible to silence Jesus by killing him, it had not killed the healing stories and actions that Jesus had done.  If death could not stop his message of love and grace and hope, what could?

Who needs that kind of surprise in 2024?  Who is the lame beggar in our midst?  There are many reports of Millennials and Gen Y adults struggling with despair and apathy.  The winter edition of Orion Magazine whose cover is the picture for this sermon, was about the struggles young people are having with dating around the world.  China is struggling with a sharply plummeting birth rate.  Canada’s birth rate has been dropping since 2009.  Young adults struggle to find stable long term relationships.  Some give up on romance altogether.  It’s easy to forget that this is the generation that saw the twin towers explode when they were in elementary school.  They’ve grown up in a world that has been talking about climate change since before they were born.  My children were learning about recycling and caring for the environment as early as Grade Three, and knew that car exhaust and pollution were causing global warming. Australian kids had wide-brimmed hats added to their school uniforms in the 90’s because 80% of cancers there are skin cancers.  Many young people experience climate anxiety that impacts their emotional health.  They wonder where they can turn to for hope.  Between Covid, 9/11 and global warming, who can blame them?

They have grown up in a world of contradictions.  A world that claims that there is no God.  There is no reason to plan for the future because at any time a gunman can walk into their schools, or a terrorist can fly a plane into a building or someone can get a cough in China that shuts down a university in Toronto or a cruise ship in Hawaii.  There is no safety in this world. 

Surprise! God is still up to something.  This is as hard to believe today as the resurrection was for the people listening to Peter.  But there are lots of little signs of grace and hope showing up when we know what to look for.  There are websites like Fixthenews.com that report on the drop in violent crime in the US, the shrinking of the Japanese Mafia, the increase in the number of countries that are making same sex marriage legal despite the pope’s latest news release.  Or Optomistdaily.com with stories like Medellín, Colombia, once the most dangerous city in the world planting so much greenery that they are lowering the average temperature of their city at the same time that they lower their carbon footprint and their crime rate.  Or the United Church’s Faithful Footprints program that aims to lower our carbon emissions by 80% by 2030, who have worked with over 400 United Church properties. Faith communities are the second-largest property owners in Canada after the federal government, and the United Church of Canada, alongside the Mennonite Church of Canada, is one of only two faith communities with a national-level grant program, and our example is inspiring the Anglican Church of Canada to develop something similar.  We also now have so many people wanting to become candidates for ministry that we have had to put a cap on how many students are going into our programs! Because no matter what, God is with us, we are not alone.  God is still surprising us, inspiring us, healing us so that we can stand, wobbly, leaning on each other for support so that we can dream with God of a healthier more loving world for the future.  May it be so, Amen!

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.

A Step nearer to Harmony

 

It is an amazing thing to be a part of a group that makes music together.  Making harmony and melody means working as a team with a specific focus.  It takes time and practice and skill development to hone both physical and mental activities in ways that work into a beautiful partnership.  Music can be the greatest gift we can give other people, a gift of joy that is not dissimilar to the joy that Jesus hoped his followers would have.  That has been one of the hardest parts of the pandemic, losing our ability to make music together.  Singing is a high-risk activity, and choirs, even handbell choirs are not safe when our infection rates are so high.  Masks are needed for any activity that requires breath; even trombones and tubas need masks on them.  This has caused pain for many people.  The loss of harmony is hard to endure.

Our gospel lesson today is about joy and harmony.  The harmony between Jesus and God, the harmony between Jesus and the disciples.  The more harmony there was between them, the more joy there was too.  But Jesus was also acutely aware that when the disciples committed to following Jesus, they committed to being out of harmony with the world.  They they would look at the world through their faith and that would leave a separation that would lead to potential ostracization and disharmony.  They would be feared and hated for their loyalty, and it would not be easy for them.

Such is the world at it’s most disharmonious.  It has led to wars and discrimination, racism, sexism and bullying.  Racism that has increasingly targeted Asian people since Trump started calling Covid by its country of origin.  And that nickname for Covid gave some people permission to act violently in numbers that I don’t remember hearing before.  It is disheartening to see racist flags being flown in our county and know that hatred is here.

Store clerks and health care workers are also being targeted for bullying and abuse.  People are loudly proclaiming that they are doing this because they are Christian and anything that limits their ability to preach the Gospel is an attack on their faith.  The world hates them, they claim, and maybe they are reading this same passage today as a justification for their behavior.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to be the target of bullying because of my ethnic background.  To constantly wonder what kind of behavior I will get when I wander into a store.  Will I be snubbed by store employees or by customers?  Will it be because of my gender or my skin tone?  Will people complain that I talk funny or be shocked to hear how Canadian my English sounds when I look like I have come from away?  Such is the daily lived experience of many people.  It’s not something they can turn off or avoid.

I’ll never forget gathering in Edmonton three years ago and hearing the stories of racism that United Church ministers were facing.  Some of them spoke bravely and boldly about the discrimination and bullying they experienced.  Others were more quiet and reluctant to speak out.  One of the participants was MiYeon Kim, the minister who wrote the prayers we are using today.  I first met her when we were student ministers in Alberta North West Conference, and we attended many workshops together with her fiancé Taylor Croissant.  In a sermon she wrote to go along with these prayers, she said that when she moved to Canada, she had to struggle with her own racist assumptions.  Growing up in Korea, she heard many stories about the atrocities her people experienced during the second world war, especially young girls who were forced into becoming ‘comfort women’ for Japanese soldiers.  She tells us:

I recognize that I also have prejudice and hostility toward the Japanese people in my innermost heart. In Korea I had very little exposure to Japanese people, so my prejudices were not challenged. However, my life and ministry in Canada have allowed me to meet and work with Japanese people in the United Church: Dr. Kathy Yamashita and the Rev. Kyoko Miura.

I met Kathy Yamashita at the final meeting of Alberta & Northwest Conference in May 2018. As President of the Conference, she led the meeting with outstanding leadership and wonderful humour. I was so impressed by her.

When Kathy visited our presbytery in her capacity as Conference President, she shared with us her own family’s story during the meeting. I learned that Japanese-Canadians suffered persecution during World War II; they were placed in internment camps and had their property taken from them. It was a story I had never heard before.

I became acquainted with the Rev. Kyoko in a class I took for my continuing education. In the class, she and I were the only Asians among 15 other students. Whether she knew my buried prejudice toward Japanese people or not, she visited with me every breaktime and lunchtime. Ironically, she was the only one who showed me that much kindness. I slowly opened my heart from politeness to friendship…  it became a new challenge for me to overcome my own prejudice... To open my mind and make harmony with Japanese people today, despite the wrong actions of people in the past… and to live out Christ’s commandment to become reconciled with our neighbours. It is not easy. I may need to fight hard against the stereotypes that I grew up with all around me in South Korea.

For someone as sweet and friendly and kind as MiYeon to admit she needs to fight hard against stereotypes is a real surprise.  But that is part of what Jesus wanted when he prayed that God strengthen and protect the disciples.  To help them resist the teachings of the world that says bullying is a part of life and help them instead find much joy as they follow the way that Jesus taught them.  May we too find much joy as we work to build harmony in our lives with our neighbors through remembering and following the teachings of Jesus, teachings of love, compassion, courage and forgiveness.  And may that building of harmony transform even our inmost hearts until we know abundant joy in all our relations!

Sunrise moments

I know a friend who starts his day watching sunrises.  He drinks his first coffee watching the sun slowly come up above the horizon and flood the world with warmth and light.  

The last few days, I have been doing the same, going out with Tim’s camera and using it to capture the moment the sky slowly lightened up.  It was a time of stillness, but the squirrel started to scamper along the branches, the birds began to chirp, the geese flew overhead, and the clouds went from dark grey to soft warm pinks and golds.  They varied from one morning to the next, and they happen so slowly and gradually that it seemed like nothing had changed until there it was, the sun, and the day had begun.

Sometimes we feel caught in a perpetual nighttime of the soul, or a dull greyness of the pre-dawn cold morning.  When do we get to wake up, go outside and really know that the light has dawned, a new day has arrived, and new hopes and possibilities are just around the corner?

When the two Marys and Salome went out to the tomb, they had everything planned out.  They had traditions to follow, they had expectations of what they would do and what they would bring, they had a list. They had no idea what their day was going to bring.  

They needed the traditions that gave them clear direction on what to do.  They were dealing with the trauma of having seen their beloved leader tortured and executed.  Maybe they came as a group because one of them would train the others on what to do.  Maybe they came as a group because they needed each other’s support.  Whatever the reason, they didn’t get what they expected.  They didn’t have a decomposing body or the ripe stench of the tomb.  They didn’t have to wash the corpse of their leader and smear myrrh over him as they wept at the marks of torture.  Instead, they were bewildered and confused by what they found, terrified even, by this unexpected turn of events.  They had no idea of what the empty tomb meant.  They had no wise theologians or biblical scholars to explain what happened.  So, they ran.  

We might wish we could run from what we are experiencing now.  We are in the midst of terrible times, where we don’t know where to turn for trustworthy and safe news.  Where we long for the ‘good old days.’ Where all we can imagine is going back to the way life was over a year ago.  Where we wish the gloom of this not-quite sunrise, this not-quite easter would become a full, glorious turning back the clock and getting back to normal.

We’re tired of keeping on.  We’re tired of waiting for good news, we’re tired of isolation.  And we’re wondering when this will all end.  We are in a difficult place.

One of my favorite stories of ordinary people in difficult places is from the Lord of the Rings By J R R Tolkien.  Sam Gamgee, a gardener and cook, is half-way up a mountain with his friend Frodo, and it feels like they will never see the sun again.  Into that time of despair, he tells Frodo: 

It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo.

The ones that really mattered.

Full of darkness and danger they were,

and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end.

Because how could the end be happy?

How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened.

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow.

Even darkness must pass.

A new day will come.

And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer.

Those were the stories that stayed with you.

Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t.

Because they were holding on to something. 

That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

What are we holding onto?  What good will we find if we go to our Galilee? Will we watch the sunrise and see things in a new light?  Will we find our trauma and grief transformed into an energy and enthusiasm that would not stop for any reason, the way it did for Mary and Peter and the rest?

We know the rest of their great story.  We know that many of Jesus’ followers had an experience beyond words, beyond understanding, that pulled them from despair and grief into action and joy.  They found themselves living in new hope, in new ways of being.  They could not go back to the old ways, the old traditions.  They went forward with courage and resilience and love into an unimaginable future.

Even in the midst of Mordor, Sam knew that the sun would rise.  In the midst of the first Easter, faced with the empty tomb, the women knew that something had changed beyond description or understanding, that the sun would rise over Lake Galilee.  In the midst of our own challenging times, we know that things will be different one day.  We know that God has been with us when we least expected it, in the call of a friend, in an unexpected postcard or phone call, in the geese flying overhead, in the sunrises that flood our lives with new vision and new hope.  Our lives will be changed, just like the women at the tomb, and they will be changed in ways we least expect it.  Let us stay ready and open for God to flood our lives with the light of new faith, and new lives of unexpected beauty and joy.  Let us remember that God can plant sunrises of hope and faith in our lives.  In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us, we are not alone.  Halleluiah!

(sunrise photos M. Rosborough, March 2021 from the church steps)

Living in Extraordinary Times

There is a saying that is attributed to the Chinese, “may you live in interesting times”, and it is not a blessing but a curse.  And we have been living in historic and interesting times.  There will be many books written on 2020, and it was certainly a relief to hear that last Wednesday’s events were undisturbed by violence.  Could we please get back to being bored and uninterested in US politics for at least 10 years?  And could we please get on to dealing with issues closer to home?

History disrupters like toxic politicians and pandemics are unpleasant to endure, but not all history disrupters are a detriment to society.  Our scripture today depicts Jesus as such a history disrupter, calling the disciples to become fishers of people rather than fishers of Lake Galilee.  Peter, James and the Zebedee brothers knew how to entangle the local fish, tilapia, which is currently my favorite to dine on.  They didn’t know much about catching people.  Yet Jesus came along, and in Mark’s version said a few words and totally disrupted their lives.  

What a disruption!  Not only did he convince them to quit their jobs, but he also convinced them to walk away from their family obligations.  He did it even though his mentor and predecessor, John the baptiser, had been arrested and was being held indefinitely without trial in Herod’s dungeon.

They followed, despite their previous loyalties, despite their secure careers and family obligations, and despite being completely untrained and unskilled in the ways of catching people.  Jesus didn’t care about that.  Jesus knew that they would be able to learn what they needed to learn.  Jesus knew that it wouldn’t be a safe occupation for them or him, but it would be a disruption of historic proportions.  Did he know that they would become so transformed by this experience that they would risk anything and go anywhere for the sake of his message?  Did he know that his teachings would be spread far beyond the shores of Galilee?  Did he know that they would end up travelling, from Israel to Rome, India, Greece, Spain and some say even to the British Isles?  His call was to ask them to commit to following him and learning how to gather people in.  All the rest was not in anyone’s intentions.

Paul’s writing is a similar call to holy disruption. To think of time not as interesting or cursed but as extraordinary, as blessed.  It echoes the idea that the kingdom of heaven is among us right now.  It shakes our understanding of time being not just the minutes, hours and days of our lives, what the ancient Greeks call Chronos, but seconds of significance.  The sense of sacred time, Kairos, is one in which we see God’s presence calling us and disrupting us away from interesting to extraordinary.  To see every moment as a sacred challenge.

How do we live into that sacred challenge?  For starters, not as celibates, despite Paul’s wording there.  Sorry Paul, I’m married and I know that it has transformed me in many God-called ways.  But seeing our marriages as sacred calls into extraordinary love, as God loved us, is one way of living into that sacred challenge.  And it’s not a call to a self-centred life either.  So many folks are tied up in despair because all they focus on is themselves.  Others see life as essentially pointless, without meaning or purpose.  Their depression and cynicism can be contagious, leading again to a focus on nothing but themselves.  Many feel angry at how powerless they are, that the world is conspiring to get them, and they must protect themselves at all costs, with Molotov cocktails, pipe bombs, guns and racism.  Still others are convinced that their job is to convert other people to the truth that they alone possess, by any means possible.  

Many folks in their cynicism and despair and anger and fear do not know that they are living in extraordinary times.  All they experience day after day are interesting times.  Jesus called the fishermen in similar circumstances, and Jesus calls us today to fish for humans who are living in pain and isolation.  How do we do that?

I’m reminded of the Seventh Day Adventists who called the church the other day asking if I read the bible.  They told me that they did good works.  “Us too!” I chirped.  They helped the homeless.  “Of course”, I agreed.  They connected with shut-ins, “so do we!”  And they worshipped God together.  “Every week,” I replied.  They even dropped off books to our front door about the end times coming.  “We give away free books too, and food and even clothing.”  “Really?”  They asked.  “You are talking to a church, you know, and I am the minister here.”  Such ways leave people feeling suspicious and 

One commentator remarked that we can remember how fishermen caught that delicious tilapia in Galilee.  They didn’t use fishing rods.  They didn’t cast lines with carefully tied lures.  They didn’t attach spoons or red wigglers or feathers.  All these trick the fish into thinking they are biting on a tasty treat.  Galileans used nets, straightforward rope constructions with no pointy bits.  Nets that are obviously nets and easily seen.  Nets that can pull people from the chaos of their wild lives into new community.  Nets that disrupt mundane existance in ways that will enrich others.  Nets that pull people out of the murky, muddy depths of despair into new ways of seeing, new ways of seeking, and sometimes new ways of self-sacrificing.

We are called out of interesting times into extraordinary times.  We have been caught up by the nets of God into a new reality.  It is our calling, our opportunity, and our privilege to do the same for those that are suffering in this world.  May we hear the call and answer with fortitude, generosity, wisdom, and courage.

What brings you Joy?

 

When I was little, my mom used to bring out a little tin tray of colorful squares for my brother and me.  She would give us paint brushes and water in plastic cups and the backs of old cereal boxes.  If we were lucky, we might get some school papers with blank back pages.  We would dip our brushes in the cup and put a drop of water on the little squares.  Almost like magic, the squares would turn from dry dusty bits of desert into vivid wet colors that then transformed the boring beige cardboard into rainbow colored unicorns, big beautiful butterflies and magical talking plants.  To Mom, I’m sure they were unidentifiable blobs of color, but for me, each piece was a vivid story with characters who had grand adventures and deep passions.

I took up painting again when my babies started being born.  We made bathtub paint where I mixed shaving cream with powder paint in an old muffin tin.  Or finger paints made from different flavors of pudding when they were still so little that paints ended up in mouths, not just fingers.

Occasionally I would take a break from the laundry and the cooking and sit down with my little ones and do some finger painting with them.  It’s not easy to do as an adult as we ‘know’ what art is, we go from trusting our own skills to making stereotypical flying birds by drawing two eyebrows joined together.  We lose our confidence because we compare ourselves to Cezanne or Emily Carr or Michelangelo, and we can’t measure up.  It was daunting but as I relaxed, it became fun.

This summer I felt the itch to get out my paints again and painted everything from wooden wells to Adirondack chairs.  Then I tried rocks, turning one into a turtle, and another into a frog.  But the one thing I wanted to paint was something that I saw every where.  Dragonflies!

They are more than pretty insects, they were predators that would devour clouds of mosquitos.  I welt up badly every summer but this year every time I went for a walk, I would find a bodyguard of dragonflies wherever I went.  And I really wanted to paint one on a rock to remind me that God was more present in my life than dragonflies.  They had come to be special after landing on Brittany’s wedding dress last year, but do you think I could find a decent picture in all the nature books I had at the lake?  Nada, zero.  And they refused to sit still long enough for me to take a photo!

Joy can be like that.  We look for joy in all the wrong places, or we try to manufacture joy, just like I tried to manufacture a photo of a dragonfly.  Joy is illusive and hard to define or describe.  I was surprised to learn the other day that on Oct. 2, 2020, the word schadenfreude, meaning joy at someone else’s misfortunes, according to Merriam-Webster, had shot up in popularity more than 30,000 per cent.  People felt joy that a certain politician was sick with a certain disease, but was it real joy, or more like a sense of karmic justice?  I had certainly felt schadenfreude at the time.  But there’s something unsettling in the feeling of satisfaction hearing that someone we dislike is suffering.  When bad things happen to bad people, is that something we should be testifying to or rejoicing in?  Is that really a Christian attitude?  Is that really joy?

The ancient psalmist wrote of a time of great joy.  It wasn’t because the people of Israel became a nation of painters.  It wasn’t because some tyrant or oppressor got sick.  It wasn’t because they saw a swarm of dragonflies or had celebrated a special event with a big party and lots of food and gifts.  It was because they felt a collective sense of hope in seeing God at work.  Something so unexpected happened to restore their faith in God that even the neighbors were surprised and noticed the astonishing change in their fortunes.  It was like the desert of dryness and tears turned overnight into a tropical paradise.  The rejoicing was spontaneous and surprising and whole-hearted.  The whole country that had faced one long hardship and disappointment after another suddenly could say, “God has done great things for us.”  And a poet turned these feelings into a song that has come down the ages as a witness to God’s commitment to the people.

Just as John was a witness to Jesus, and the psalmist was a witness to future generations, we too are called to be witnesses to God, a God that we believe will turn our tears into thanksgiving, our grief into rejoicing and our hopes into reality.  We are called to witness as best as we can that we are not alone.  We are called to live lives of honesty and authenticity, that shed tears and look into the mirror to recognize when we are not worthy to untie another’s shoelaces, yet we are still led to witness to compassionate living and justice for all.  We are called be powerful witnesses to a faith that transforms tears to joy.

God shows up in mysterious and transformative ways.  Like the day I returned to Athabasca last August and found a dragonfly on my sidewalk.  Now I have a photo and a story to share, not where I expected to find it, and definitely not where I had hoped and planned to find it, but it showed up when I wasn’t looking, as a witness to the mystery of faith, the mystery of joy and the mystery of life.  It reminds me that God is with us, we are not alone, even in times that try nations and are filled with tears.  Our joy will come and our desert times will be transformed.  And what a joyful time that will be!

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.