Dancing Queen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you trust?

This has been a very interesting week in the church office for Severna and me. On Tuesday when we had the power outage, we didn't think much about it until we had to use the photocopier Wednesday morning. No matter what we tried or how many times we turned it off and on to reset it's system, the photocopier refused to work. We couldn't print off bulletins or the announcement sheet, we couldn't do up posters for our upcoming summer events, or print out photos for Marvyn's memorial service, or letters of support for a town homeless count‎ initiative. Severna quickly contacted the repairman and he popped in that very day and told us he would have the replacement part by Thursday morning, as it would be shipped from Calgary. We were impressed and relieved to hear that! But the part was not in Calgary, nor was it in the rest of Canada. So we're hoping it will show up on Monday. And we spent the whole week realizing exactly how much we depended on having a great photocopier to help us do much of our work.

Technology is like a seed that grows invisibly without our knowledge into our lives. Even if we don't have a computer, our cars probably do. The satellite TV we watch is very dependent on computers and every time we use our bank cards to buy something, we are trusting in technology. When we fly somewhere or talk to someone on the phone, we are trusting in technology.

Everyone needs to trust someone or something to make the most of their days. I trust the grocery stores to have safe food. The people who ran the Muskeg Creek Trail run yesterday had to trust the volunteers to steer them in the right direction and help them get enough water to keep going.

The volunteers had to trust that the volunteer coordinator would have the resources to do their job. The coordinator had to trust the organizing committee would have enough time and money to provide the things that were needed. The committee needed to trust that people would want to come and walk the trai‎l.

Trust is something that is a part of life. It's why we get caught up in cons so easily. The first nations in Canada trusted that the Federal government would help their children learn to survive in a land that the bison had disappeared ‎from.  Grandparents trust the caller who tells them that they are a grandchild in serious trouble, needing money to bail them out. Parents trust that a playground is a safe space for their children to play.

And then something happens to change all that trust. An infection sets in after a major surgery. A gunman shoots at a man while children are enjoying a ride on a swing. An island volcano ‎won't stop spewing lava. A grandchild bullies a grandparent. Someone applies for a job and is treated to abuse and sexism.  Someone else acts impulsively to solve a problem but causes more harm than good.

The ancients put their own trust into, of all things, horses and chariots. Did you hear that line in the psalm, "Do not put your trust in horses and chariots"? They were the nuclear weapons of the Pharaohs and Babylonian princes. There's a wonderful documentary on PBS about reconstructing an Egyptian chariot, and how incredibly effective it was in war. And yet if you do a careful exploration of the bible, every time the Hebrew people are up against an army of chariots and put their trust in God, things turn out okay for them. Moses had no chariots and got his people safely away from the Egyptian army. Joshua fought battles with foot soldiers against chariots and won every time.

David used no chariots to defeat Goliath and went up against Philistine armies with chariots of iron and won. And when he was caught up in a civil war, he easily destroyed the chariot armies he faced. One war ended when his own traitorous son had his hair get caught up in a tree while riding away in a chariot. Deuteronomy 20 tells the people not to be afraid of chariots in battle, but to trust in God. And Solomon, the supposedly wisest and richest king Israel ever knew, stockpiled chariots and horses, filling whole cities with them, according to biblical accounts. Solomon's military power did not prevent the kingdom from splitting up, and his descendants lost battles and wars and even their lives in chariots.  And even though he was supposed to be the richest and wisest of all of the kings of Israel listed in the bible, it’s his father David that is remembered so fondly by the people of Israel.  Jerusalem is David’s city.  The kings that followed Solomon in the history books who continued to stockpile chariots were seen as unfaithful. Jezebel's husband Ahab died in his chariot just as Elijah had predicted. Isaiah ranted against Israel having a chariot army as a sure invitation to disaster, and Babylon conquered it and took the people into exile. The only chariot mentioned in a positive light is the one from heaven that was sent to bring Elijah straight to heaven.

We humans want to trust quick fixes, big shows of strength and stockpiles of stuff.  And the big things don’t work.  Threats and bluster only escalate the tension.  So what can we trust?

I am reminded of a story about John Wesley, one of the founders of Methodism and indirectly the United Church of Canada.  When he was in his advanced years, he was going out to preach to some coal miners in England, and was traveling by a horse-drawn coach.  The road was on the edge of the sea, and a storm came up, threatening to wash out the road. 

The coachman turned to Wesley and asked if they should turn back, that the storm was getting too dangerous, and he couldn’t guarantee that they would make it safely.  Wesley reportedly said that he was called to go boldly into the storm, trusting that God would be with him whether he drowned or whether he made it to the other side.  And despite brushes with pneumonia, he continued to charge through storms and blizzards until he died at the age of 87, but not after making sure that he had sent ordained preachers to North America, pushed for the end of the Slave Trade, recognized women as preachers and worked tirelessly and relentlessly to help people struggling with poverty, illiteracy and addictions.  He died in poverty but had written hymns, established churches and wrote 32 volumes of articles on the power of Christianity.  He trusted God, and he made a difference in this world.  May we find the courage to trust not in the big splashy chariots of our own times, but in the still small voice that makes seeds to grow and people to live brave lives of faith and hope.  Amen.

What’s in a name?

My uncle used to tell a story about an annoying kid in his school named Robert.  Robert loved to crash parties.  Which, when one was growing up in Edmonton in the 1940’s wasn’t a terribly big deal.  Back then it wasn’t big enough to have schools with a huge graduating class each year like Harry Ainsley does today, so crashing a party was pretty normal.  But this kid Robert would eventually get over to the piano and start playing and singing, much to the consternation of his classmates.  It was really annoying, because he wanted to have the spotlight to himself, and it’s rather difficult to have a conversation with a girl when someone is belting out some song while banging on the piano.  My uncle was not impressed.

Not unlike the townsfolk in our scriptures this morning, who were mocking Jesus.  They weren’t just asking each other, who is this Jesus fellow, they were being deliberately insulting.  Normally people didn’t have last names and there were a lot of people named Jesus, or Joshua or Jeshua.  So they were called by their father’s names.  Jesus Bar Joseph would mean Jesus son of Joseph.  Benjamin Bar Abbas, and so on.  But they didn’t call Jesus Bar Joseph, they called him Jesus Bar Mary.  That’s actually very rude.  It’s saying that Jesus was illegitimate and throwing that comment around was very insulting back then.  To do so in public would have been an intimidation tactic to try to shut Jesus down and encourage him to take his message elsewhere.  Three chapters ago, his family was trying to lock him up as crazy, and in this chapter, his family was used to remind him of who he was, and that he shouldn’t get too uppity.

Like Robert at the piano, they did their best to shut him down and get him to stop interrupting their fun. 

They emphasized his family connections as if to say, who do you think you are, coming back to town and spouting off all kinds of crazy ideas.  In short, they tried to bully Jesus.

Someone recently said to me that this still happens.  Every year, kids graduate from high school in small towns like Athabasca, and some go off to Edmonton or BC or Toronto for education, and we seldom see them again.  And then there are the ones who return home.  I was told that they have a hard time when they come back because folks feel like they’ve put on airs, got too big for their britches, forgotten that ideas that work in the city don’t work for real people and so on.  Some of these returnees felt bullied into playing small and safe and being frustrated that they couldn’t do the work that they felt called to do.  Some eventually moved away permanently, finding places where they wouldn’t be known as Mary’s kid who’s too full of themselves.

Jesus, son of Mary, take your uncomfortable and crazy ideas about inclusion of others somewhere else.  We don’t want to hear about what you learned in the big city.  We don’t want to see you heal others.  We don’t want to think that maybe there are ways in which we could be doing things better or differently.  Who do you think you are, Jesus?

And Paul faced the same thing.  He challenged the people that he felt were pushing their ideas as superior not because they had thought things through carefully, but who were bragging about their privilege and their special status.  Who would go on and on about how special they were, how they had great visions of God, and special abilities to connect with the divine, who were more interested in impressing their audience about how great they were instead of how great God was.  Instead Paul talked about being modest, and keeping the focus on Jesus, not on himself. 

He wasn’t in the game to become famous or rich.  He was in the God game because it made sense to him and gave him the courage to inspire others to give Jesus a try.

Now some people say that folks never change.  Once a bully, always a bully, once a braggart always a braggart. 

Once a selfish egotist, always a selfish egotist.  Yet scripture says otherwise.  Remember again that Jesus’ family planned to lock him up rather than spread his crazy ideas through the land.  Well two of his brothers were named James and Jude.  In the book of Acts, James helped Peter build the congregation in Jerusalem, and while Peter and Paul travelled around sharing the good news, James stayed behind and took care of the folks there.  Jude also became a teacher and wrote a letter to the congregations that is in our New Testament.  He introduced himself not as Jesus brother, but as James’ brother.  And scholars have come to the consensus in the most recent research that Jude did indeed write that letter, that it is one of the oldest letters in the New Testament, and that obviously he moved from thinking that Jesus was crazy to preaching that Jesus was the Messiah, the Anointed one.  Not Jesus Bar Joseph or Jesus Bar Mary, but Jesus Christos, special, unique and worth honoring.  If two younger brothers who knew Jesus that intimately could change their minds so drastically and humbly, why can’t we?

Why did my uncle like to talk about Robert?  Because he went on to greater things.  His last name was Goulet, and some of you might remember hearing about Bob Goulet, who went on to sing with Julie Andrews in Camelot and starred in movies and television shows right up to his death in 2007.  He even was on an episode of The Simpsons, and in a movie with Ellen DeGeneres.  But he was not a humble man. 

And in this day and age of special effects and big movies, he is not remembered by the young Edmontonians who are growing up in his old neighborhood.  His fame may not outlast the folks who knew them.  But Paul and Jesus, Jude and James and Mary continue to be remembered, not because they bragged or bullied their way to the top, but because they chose a humbler path based on love.  May we too practise humbleness and love in all we say and do.  Amen.

Healing thoughts on Canada Day

On Canada Day, it’s appropriate to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we are going.  What vision do we have for our country?  What do we lament, and how do we move forward?  When we look at our lives through the lens of scriptures, what are we called to in our Christian journeys in this land?

The one phrase I hope we never use to describe Canada is “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I Always thought this came from a Shakespeare play, and didn’t realize that David used these words to lament his friend Jonathan’s death.  What heartbreak he was speaking.  And if we read this scripture in context, in 1 Samuel 18, we can see a family dispute over David’s loyalty.  Saul was struggling with mental illness and David would play his harp to calm Saul.  Then Jonathan met David and the verse says, “When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.”  Saul got jealous, started to plot how to kill David and at a memorable family party, Saul swore at his son Jonathan and tried to kill him in front of everyone.  He used his political power to bully and control not just his people, but his own family as well.

When we have families that don’t know how to talk to each other, when we use our power to push people like David and Jonathan into conforming to society norms, when we don’t admit our frailties and our mistakes, things can erupt into civil wars and broken lives.  Countries become full of suspicion, tension, prejudice and hate.

Jesus lived in a country like that, one where temple officials seemed out of touch with ordinary folks.  Jesus could have reacted negatively to the people who asked him for help.  He was approached by both a rich and famous man named Jairus, head of a large household and a poor, unnamed woman full of desperation.  Both came with a humble heart to ask for help.  Both had to be vulnerable in the face of a crowd.  Jairus, despite his status in the community, fell at Jesus’ feet and admitted that he needed help that only Jesus could provide.  The unnamed woman admitted that she, a woman seen as cursed because of her hemorrhaging., had done the unspeakable by touching a Rabbi in public, making him unclean.  Interestingly enough, Jairus, even though he knew Jesus had been touched by the woman, still allowed Jesus into his house to heal his daughter.  Somehow on that journey, Jairus forgot to worry about that, was more focused on being a parent than a temple official.  And maybe just maybe, the unnamed woman came with him on the journey.  Maybe, just maybe, they became a community of faith on the Way.

I wish I could heal people the way Jesus did, especially when I see someone in the hospital who is young and sweet and gifted and loved by many dying of cancer.  The truth is that I can’t, we can’t heal physical diseases the way Jesus did.  Doctors can cure, but not heal.  They too will say that there is no telling who will respond to treatment and who won’t.  Nurses will tell you that they can’t predict whether a patient will live for days, weeks or even months with the final stages of cancer.  But what we can do is come like Jesus did, not to point fingers at sick people, but to be with them and accompany them as best we can, forgiving them if such needs to happen, like Jesus forgave the unclean woman, and hear them when they are vulnerable, like Jesus did with Jairus. To go to them like Jesus did with the young girl, and treat them with respect and love.

In the end, only God heals.  God gives us tools and skills that we can learn and practise.  Those skills of listening, gentle presence, kind actions, prayers and thoughtful touches can bring healing that may indeed be more important than the physical healing we so desperately crave.

 A professor of mine says that the greatest part of suffering is often mental, and that people can endure a lot of physical pain if they have worked on healing their minds, their emotions, their relationships and their community.  Let us remember that our presence can help with the suffering when we open ourselves humbly. In the days ahead, may we be strengthened by God to be bearers of healing presence to the pain we see in our world, our community and our country.