Cutting remarks

 What a wild and weird pair of scriptures we have this morning.  The Exodus passage about Zipporah, and Mark’s heavy-handed amputation text.  Both are about cutting things off physical bodies and are disturbing to say the least. 

The Zipporah story happens after Moses encountered the burning bush and was on his way back to Egypt.  The original Hebrew is so barebones, it’s hard to translate.  Who was killing whom, did Zipporah cast or touch the skin to Moses, why was God angry in the first place, and why did Zipporah have a flint knife in the bronze age?

Imagine, people have written books and essays on those 2 little verses, trying to understand just what was going on.  I certainly had never heard of the ‘bloody bridegroom’ before someone here asked about it, not what I was expecting when I invited folks to submit bible passages or quotes they were curious about.  Some people read this as Zipporah, the daughter of a priest, using a ritual obsidian knife, doing the rite while Moses was sick and recommitting herself to their marriage.  Others hear this as Zipporah being angry at Moses for not having circumcised his son, and throwing down the skin in disgust.

The Hebrew is that vague and that easily mistranslated.  But consensus seems to be that she was cutting off that which she saw was a barrier between Moses and God.  Jesus talked about cutting off whatever was separating his followers from God too.  He was using shocking language that would have upset his folks.  Back then there were no prosthetics and no effective anesthetics. Losing a limb often meant death by blood loss or being condemned to a life of begging, unless a family member would take the unfortunate person in.  Losing a foot or a hand was dangerous!

Jesus didn’t want the disciples to start amputating body parts right and left.  He wanted them to take very seriously what it meant to be his followers.  He wanted them to realize how dangerous their attitudes could be.  Let’s remember what they were doing when he scolded them.  They were getting ready to judge someone who was not part of their inner circle.  Someone who was casting out demons in Jesus’ name. 

Now to put this into context, this is the same chapter which talks about Jesus going up to the mountaintop with Peter and James and John, and when he came back down, the rest of the disciples had failed to heal a child of her demon.  So, to see other people do what they had failed to do must have been downright galling.  They were jealous!  They wanted Jesus to cut the others down and condemn them as outsiders. 

Jesus said that he didn’t want to copywrite his name, or to give the disciples an exclusive franchise on the use of his name.  He wasn’t interested in trademarking his healing skills, and he didn’t want the disciples to think that they could be an exclusive club.  But more importantly, he wanted to turn them away from focusing on what other people were doing wrong to focusing on what they could be doing better.

He didn’t say, cut other people’s foot off, he was saying cut your own foot off.  In other words, instead of being angry and resentful and jealous of other people, of being judgmental about them and flying off the handle at them, stay focused on your own spiritual journey.

We have seen a lot of people expressing a lot of anger and frustration these last few weeks.  There’s anger at the government for not doing enough.  There’s anger at the government for doing too much.  There’s anger at my neighbor for disagreeing with me.  There’s anger at my family member for not agreeing with me.  It seems like we’re caught up in an epidemic of anger as much as anything.  And an epidemic of finger-pointing, resentment, jealousy and frustration.

Jesus said to his disciples that rather than point fingers at someone who was having success, they should look at themselves first.  Why were they feeling jealous of someone else?  Why were they being tattle tales and grumblers?  Why were they sure that they had the right to feel superior or to be the insiders who knew better than the rest?

It is easier to blame others for our frustrations and our anger bursts than it is to look inside at our own pain.  Parker Palmer talks a lot about how we are addicted to fixing, saving, advising and correcting others.  We like to be right, we like to be indignant.  We like to judge and be angry.

But that’s not what a Christian is called to be.  Some of the greatest saints of our faith spent a good deal of time wrestling with their darker nature.  They may not have cut their feet or hands off, but they did circumcise their hearts and minds.  Sometimes, like Moses, they were in so much trouble with their anger and their jealousy that they needed someone else, someone wise and faithful like a priestess’ daughter to help them see the source of their disconnection with God and cut that source off with a ritual practice.  Moses was the big hero, the man with all the tricks up his sleeve that would free his people from slavery, but it was his wife that remembered that faith begins at home. 

What do we need to cut off in order to live more faithfully?  This summer I tried drying my clothes on the line like I remembered my grandma doing.  I wonder about buying a solar panel to charge my phone.  I drive my hybrid car to the city less.  I hope to find ways to lower my carbon footprint, as I’m sure you are too.  I cut off my words and thoughts when they slip into racist assumptions, I circumcise my discomfort when I hear stories of residential schools or oppression or racism or homophobia.  These things are painful for us to face and admit, but they are barriers to our relationships with one another and God as well.  When we look at ourselves first before pointing our fingers at others, we are able to start out on our heroic journeys as Christians and healers.  Let us follow Jesus on the path to building a more loving and peaceful society for all creation.

Writing on the Wall - Daniel 5

Guess how old the oldest graffiti is?

Long before people began scrawling ‘Kilroy Was Here’ or before craft stores had to lock up cans of spray paint, humans were making graffiti. There are examples of graffiti on the walls and streets of Pompeii, put there before Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 CE.  Some people argue that the cave paintings discovered in France are the first.  Regardless of when it started, graffiti has a long history, and like modern examples, it has been a record of where people have been and what they have been thinking about.

Often what they have been thinking about has been the issues they feel most passionate about – hunting mastodons for the early Cro-Magnons, where to find women of easy virtue in Pompeii or how ancient tourists felt when standing at the foot of the pyramids in Giza.  Early Christians wrote on the walls of their catacombs in Rome, where they were able to worship safely and secretly together during times of political turmoil.

But I think the oldest written story about graffiti is this one in the book of Daniel.  It has become such a common phrase, 'The writing on the wall’ that I suspect most people don’t know or remember that it comes from the Bible.

Daniel, for those who haven’t heard of him, is more famously remembered as surviving a night with starving lions, protected by God because even the threat of death would not shake his public commitment to his faith and to God.  Like his friends, Shadrack, Meshack and Abednego who were thrown into the fiery furnace, Daniel was part of the first generation of captives from Israel to be targeted for cultural assimilation into the Babylonian system.  They were chosen from the rest for special education, and special food to enter government service.  Their names were changed from typical Hebrew names to Babylonian ones.  Daniel and Mishael with ‘el’ in their names, another name for God, were to be called Belteshazzar, and Meshach.  They were also told to eat non-kosher foods too, something Daniel was able to foil with a clever plan (Daniel 1). 

They stayed committed to the God of their ancestors, which is an amazing feat of itself.  It was common for conquering countries to brag that their gods were the source of their victories.  When they fought, they believed their gods fought, and when they won, their gods won.  A winning God was worth praying to, and a losing God was either seen as dead or added to the family of Gods.  In Egypt and in Greece there were dozens of gods because of this.  The theology of the time thought Yahweh had failed and lost and was no longer to be honored.

So Daniel, by going out on a limb and speaking for God, was being radically counter cultural.  By reading and interpreting the words written on the wall, he was declaring to the thousand officials that his God was not forgotten, nor had he been assimilated, and even though he was surrounded by people who were the ruling class, he had not forgotten to follow the God who cared about the weak, the down-trodden, the widow, the orphan.  The God who cared for the conquered people living in a foreign land, and the slaves who needed rescuing from the powers of Egypt.  The God who nurtured community and compassion. The God of Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Joseph, Moses and Miriam, the God of Covenant not conquest.   And when Daniel saw the writing on the wall, he probably knew that God had not forgotten him either.

We too can see the writing on the wall if we know where to look.  We are at a challenging time in the history of humankind, the most challenging in my lifetime, although not for those who lived through the Depression or World War Two.  The extreme heat we experienced this summer, another bad year for crops as well as glaciers dying and permafrost no longer permanently frozen, is a sign that global warming is real and needs to be addressed.  20 years since 9/11 and the Taliban are back in power in Afghanistan.  Surging numbers of Covid cases and hospitalizations in Alberta with vaccination rates plateauing and yet people are surprised that they are being asked to wear masks again.  Like King Belshazzar, we have been focused on the wrong things.  Daniel was focused on different priorities, God priorities.   

Jesus was the same way.  He knew that if he continued to challenge the priorities of the people in power, he would end up in trouble.  He knew that challenging the status quo would have only one outcome.  But he kept his focus on God’s priorities and was prepared to do whatever it took to meet those priorities.

God’s priorities haven’t changed.  Caring for the folks without hope, the people who feel they don’t have power over their lives.  The lonely, the frustrated, and yes, even the folks who think they have all the answers, and the ones who party like kings.  When do we take time to ask what God might think of our society, how God might measure us, count us, weigh us, and challenge us?  The time is now.  The opportunity is there, and the action is simple.  Whether we request a mail in ballot, a trip to the advanced polls, or show up to cast our vote, let’s vote as if we have seen the finger of God writing on the wall of our world.  Vote as if this is the most Christian thing we can do.  Vote as if this is how we follow Jesus even if it looks like it will end up in suffering and challenge and change.  Vote as if we are Daniel, telling a powerful society  that the writing is on the wall.  Because we are called to follow Jesus, and speak truth to power, even if it challenges the culture, even if it goes against what everyone thinks we should do.  And because we are called to see the writing on the wall and tell it to the people even when they don’t want to hear it.  Let’s be brave and bold as we serve Jesus, empowering and inspiring each other to make a difference in the world!

What old bible quote are you interested in hearing a sermon on?  Contact me and I will put it together.  Or leave a comment below.

Favoritism

Favoritism seems to be an inescapable part of human nature.  Last week we heard about how God favored Abel’s offerings over Cain’s, and Cain murdered Abel because of that favoritism.  Today, we have an uncomfortable story about even Jesus, our role model and our teacher, playing favorites.  Not only that, he calls a woman a dog.  That is as offensive today as it was back then.  Why?  Because of her ethnicity.  He judged her because of her race, and this lady wasn’t good enough.  Jesus was playing favorites.

How many times have we been the favorite?  How many times were we singled out as not being the favorite?  How many times have we shown favoritism towards someone over someone else? 

Even God seems to show favoritism from time to time, especially when it comes to the Hebrew people.   Malachi 1 has the famous quote that was turned into a novel about twins and favoritism, “Yawheh says, Yet I have loved Jacob but I have hated Esau;”

It’s hard not to show favoritism.  One of the hardest jobs as a parent is doing our best to be impartial, not favoring one child over another.  Even with the best of intentions, it can still be difficult.  One of the saddest funerals I ever presided over was a twin who had died in a car crash.  She was part of a big family, and one of the younger children.  The family was so large that she was given away at birth to another family, and that act shaped her in desperate ways.  That led to complicated grief all because of what was perceived by some as good intentions but by others as favoritism.

It’s easy to play favorites by judging appearances, or by how articulate someone is.  My grandfather, who was a travelling salesman, used to tell us that the best way to judge a person’s character was from how shiny their shoes were and how clean their fingernails were.  Again, that’s natural.  So natural, James warned his people some 2000 years ago not to do that.

That’s easier said than done.  How do we do that?  As a congregation! When we practice the commandment of “love your neighbor as yourself”, we are countering the addiction to favoritism by replacing it with the ancient art of hospitality.  Parking Palmer describes it in more modern language, calling it “giving and receiving welcome.” He says “People learn best in hospitable spaces… we support each other’s learning by giving and receiving hospitality.”

We have been hospitable in many ways.  Every time we have a guest speaker who has experienced the hurt of favoritism and discrimination, they feel welcomed and supported.  People like Thom’s choir, Phyllis when she talked about Truth and Reconciliation, Debbie with her stories of rejection by churches, and Gill remembering Amber Valley settlers.  Taking prayer shawls to the Chinese restaurants and hotel families for Asian History month.  Cooking meals for the community.  Putting a rainbow flag in our window. Holding forums on wills, estates and legacy planning.  Hosting educational events for LGTBQ and their allies.  Working with PRAAC to put in place funding and programs to tackle family violence.  Providing food, clothes and counselling for homeless people struggling with a variety of issues.  Teaching cooking lessons to low-income parents and Blue Heron members and so much more.

There’s one act of hospitality that particularly stands out in my mind.  A few years back, we had several people in town ask what we the United Church were going to do about Syrian refugees.  I went to the interfaith refugee committee to ask what they were planning and heard one person say that they didn’t think it was wise to bring Muslim people into Athabasca where we only had Christians.  They wanted to bring people in who might join their churches, and they also said they wanted to bring in refugees that were not getting attention from the media, which was a good reason.  But Syrians?

Syrians like the lady Jesus talked to in our scripture reading today, who said even the dogs deserved to eat the crumbs that fall off the dinner table.  Syrians who wanted a chance to bring up their families away from tanks, bullets and bombs.  With the invaluable partnership of St. Andrew’s Zion Church in Collinton, we brought not one or two but eight people to Athabasca, Christians and Muslims alike, and taught them how to survive Canadian winters.  We bought thousands of dollars worth of gift cards to raise money for dentist bills and school clothes, for laptops and education.  One family we brought, the Halawas, are applying for Canadian Citizenship this month, the girls are planning to study nursing and pharmacy, the son is growing up and graduating from high school and hoping to become a police officer or mechanic.  The oldest girl is now married to a husband she picked of her own free will and is very happy.  Everyone is working on driver’s licences and English is no longer a struggle for most of them.  They have jobs and they are thriving.  Why? Because Jesus heard the Syrophoenician woman’s challenge.  He let her disturb him to the point that Jesus changed his mind.  Because of her challenge, her descendants, thousands of years later, found a welcome here among us.  Because Jesus acknowledged her humanity, we too acknowledge the humanity of everyone we meet.  When we turn away from playing favorites and choose instead to empower, engage and inspire the people we meet through giving and receiving radical welcome and hospitality, we bring God’s healing into this troubled world.  May we continue to inspire and welcome those without favoritism.  Amen!

“Am I My Brother’s Keeper?”

How many of us remember the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  Despite being a bit of a bible geek, I did not remember where it was found in the bible and did a google search to figure it out.  Much to my surprise, it wasn’t a trigger that inspired a parable by Jesus, nor was it a question asked by the Pharisees, or even a phrase that Paul had coined in one of his letters.  It was, however, in Genesis 4.

The last time I read that story was as a kid in my illustrated story bible.  ‘Cain and Abel’ is a tale of common humanity.  Jealousy of a sibling is something many people are familiar with although not many will admit it.  Even more common is making an excuse when caught red-handed.  Cain defensively and angrily tried to deflect God’s question. 

God told Cain to let go of his anger and jealousy, but Cain hung onto it, and nursed it, according to the scriptures.  As James wrote in his letter, “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s justice.”  Cain’s anger did indeed not produce God’s justice.  Cain fed his anger until it boiled over into violence.  And then he refused to take responsibility by deflecting God’s question.

We’re not murderers, as far as I know, but the question of “Am I my brother’s or sister’s keeper?”, feels central to the tension we are now seeing in many conversations.  It is a difficult ethical question to ask of ourselves.  The people who are covid deniers or anti-vaxxers are ready to accuse us of being sheeple and worse at the slightest opportunity.  They promote medications that are proscribed for livestock, as if that is safer than a vaccine developed by some of the most educated and dedicated medical experts in the world.  Their anger does not lead to justice, which at this time would be vaccinations distributed to more than just 2% of the world’s population.  Nor does it build up love and community in this country.

“Am I my brother’s keeper?” is a justification for not taking care of one another, not taking responsibility for how our actions impact others.  Remember the first Star Wars movie when Han Solo delivered R2D2 and Princess Leia to the Rebel Camp after escaping Darth Vader and the Death Star?  She says to him, “It’s not over yet”, and Han says defiantly, “It is for me, sister. Look, I ain't in this for your revolution, and I'm not in it for you, Princess. I'm in it for the money.”

That is where a lot of people are right now.  They are in it for themselves, and no one else.  They struggle to deal with change or with being asked to do something like wear a mask or get a vaccine that doesn’t benefit them or their bank accounts.  They are coming from a place of defensiveness that says “I don’t want to do anything someone else tells me I should do” or “I don’t need to care about others getting sick”.  They are coming from a place of entitlement, or anger or shame or fear or denial.  Ultimately, they don’t want to have to change for someone else.  They fear being controlled by someone else.  And their fear of being controlled is so strong that they do irrational things.

It’s always easy to see when it’s them out there that are stuck in the question of “Am I my brother’s keeper?’  But what about us who want to follow Jesus?

Christians are not called to judge our neighbors, as tempting as that might seem.  Or as widespread as that might appear – judging those who have vaccines, those who don’t, those who are staying home, those who went to the Calgary Stampede, those who have Covid, those who don’t believe in Covid, those who sanitize their hands, those who hug everyone they meet, those who know who they will vote for, those who don’t know if it will make a difference whether they vote or not.

As Jesus said, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

We are to look within, noticing the times we resort to anger or respond with greed or jealousy or pride or denial or resentment.  The times we lie, or say nasty things about people behind their backs, the times we don’t listen to someone with a different point of view.  The times we lash out or the times we fail to speak up.  Especially now, the times we need make changes and accommodations that we feel are unnecessary or unimportant.  More now than ever, change will be hard and resented and rebelled against.  Clinging to human traditions when they no longer help us connect with the holy can lead to the exact kind of Pharisee thinking Jesus was condemning.

It’s not how our church is set up, or how we feel about wearing masks in church, or being asked if we are double-vaccinated or where we sit that makes us unclean.  It is the anger and resentment, or stubborn clinging to what we think is the right way of doing things that can break down our relationship with God.

Ultimately, we are called to be more than our brother’s keeper.  We are not to enable or abandon them, but to love them.  Jesus taught that we are to love our God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our strength, and with all our mind; and love our neighbor as much as we show compassion to ourselves.  That is what is truly important.  Loving God, loving neighbor, loving self.  We can do this, and when we do, we are following the way Christ calls us to be, turning back on what makes us unclean and worshiping God in ways that make a difference in the world.  May it be so for us all.

Hard words in Hard Times

Cannibalism and military outfits!  That’s what is in our scripture lessons this morning.  Talk about hard words in hard times.  

Hard words like Jesus speaking about drinking blood was extremely offensive to the people of his day.  Leviticus 17 talks about God cutting all connections with people who drank blood, “I will set my face against them and cut them off from the people” Whether it’s animal or human, blood was seen as the spiritual essence of life so this was deeply offensive to the followers.  And yet Jesus told them that drinking blood, his blood, was the only way to connect to God.  That was such a hard teaching that it alienated many of his followers. We understand that this is a metaphor about the ritual of eating communion together.  Or is it?  Because this was not about the Last Supper, or about how to share communion, it was about who Jesus was, the Word made flesh.  

Add to this the shock of hearing Jesus talk about his being a sacrifice, willing to give up his body and blood, was also a hard word to swallow.  Sacrificing one’s own life for the sake of others is pretty high stakes at any time.  It’s almost unimaginable in this day and age.  And it would have been very distasteful back then.

We are not good at sacrifice.  We like to do things that feel right or comfortable or customary.  We like to go with the flow, fit in, feel like we belong.  We want the latest fashions, or the nicest car, or the softest furniture, the most delicious food.  We can’t imagine giving our lives away for someone else’s benefit.  Yet that is what Jesus did.  He offended people.  He shocked people.  He went against what the rest of the country thought was proper or appropriate.  He used hard words because it wasn’t about winning the popularity contest or gaining friends and influencing people.  He used hard words because he was developing a strong, resilient and visionary group of followers who would carry his ideas forward despite all the world would throw at them.  Despite how offensive the message was of a state-tortured holy man who had the power to overthrow even death itself.  Hard words that would cost him his life.  

We are living in hard times that seem to be getting more complicated, rather than less.  Afghanistan is once again in turmoil, despite many people of many nations sacrificing their blood and their lives.  Haiti is also going through another crisis.  The UN announced a code red for humanity, which seems more believable than ever given the state of the fires in BC, melting of glaciers and record-breaking heatwaves here at home.  And now we have an election to wade through where words will be used to convince us to vote.  Some parties will use emotional words to scare us, others will use logical words to convince us.  And words will be used to confuse us and mislead us.  This summer we were supposed to be free from all Covid restrictions and were told that events like the Calgary Stampede would be safe.  Now we know that rapid testing isn’t foolproof, and cases in Calgary outnumber the cases in other areas of the province.  Vaccination rates have plateaued, and words have convinced many of conspiracy theories and promoted vaccine hesitancy.

Too many words.  Too many angry opinions and confusing ideas.  Too many difficult situations.  Too many tragedies.  Too many wars.

What do we do at times like these?  That’s where Paul’s writing comes in handy.  He was writing in hard times to a congregation that was struggling to know who it was and how it would follow Jesus.  He talked about how difficult it was when the world was full of strife, dissent, conflict and confusion.  He said that it wasn’t about physical wars between nations, but wars about ideas, about values, about passions, and about loyalty to one’s beliefs: 

“For our battle ultimately is not against human forces, but against the sovereignties and powers, against the authorities, against the rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”

He used a military image because it was a common image that everyone was familiar with. 

Today, he could have used football protective gear.  Think about all the padding they must wear, the helmet, the shoulder pads, the cleated running shoes! Or the masks and chest pads a catcher wears behind home plate, or the shin pads of the goalie.  All those layers of protection are what we are more familiar with.  And doesn’t it sound comforting to know that God provides us with protection from the mental, emotional and spiritual challenges we face?

I like Eugene Peterson’s version of this passage: 

Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it’s all over but the shouting you’ll still be on your feet. Truth, justice, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You’ll need them throughout your life. God’s Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other’s spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out.

We use the Word of God to strengthen ourselves and our community in times of difficulty.  We are charged to do that with truth, justice, peace, and faith, and with two primary tools – scripture and prayer.  Words for tough times, words for staying strong and resilient and courageous. Now is the time for us to put on the whole uniform of God and use our words to follow the Bread of Life and the Word made flesh, who for us is the Holy One of God.

Prove it!

 

Sounds like Jesus was having a bad day.  First, he was tested by the Pharisees, then by the lack of foresight by his disciples.  He was speaking about faith and using a metaphor to do so, and his disciples completely missed the point and took his words literally.  Not only that, but they were coming from a very defensive position, assuming that he was blaming them for their lack of preparation.

Nobody was getting it.  The Pharisees wanted signs, the king wanted absolutes, the disciples wanted their bellies full and no one wanted to think about God or mission or higher purpose.  Here they were in the presence of Jesus, and had seen and experienced marvelous things, but all they could do was stay fixated on their own perceived needs and their own sense of what was proper.

Like a mobile, the three groups were used to a certain way of living.  Herod was used to having uncontested power over the country and influence with the Roman Empire.  He was a figurehead and knew it.  He was also plagued with guilt over the death of John the Baptist and wondered if Jesus was John reincarnated.  He had been manipulated by his wife and stepdaughter into executing John, from which we get the phrase, “serve his head on a platter”.  He was a dangerous and volatile man, easily swayed, and a wily politician.  He was not afraid to kill people to keep his power.

The Pharisees were, as Robbie the Dragon said, the ‘status quo’.  The religious people who ran the temple.  They were used to being upper managers in the institution of religion, which was a big thing in Jerusalem.  They liked their systems, their debates, their logic and their many rules. 

They liked the superiority they had in knowing that they had the truth all wrapped up and that they were better than the rest of the people they saw.  They were sure they were right.  They ‘knew’ they were in God’s good books.

Then there were the disciples.  Fishermen, farmers, day laborers.  They knew their place in the society’s hierarchy.  It was at the bottom.  They knew the constant struggle to find enough food to eat every day.  They knew grinding poverty, and they knew that they were not good enough to deserve the best seat in the temple.  Like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, they only dreamed of one day having a seat of honor in their most sacred institution.  Survival was the best they could hope for.

Imagine that this society was like a mobile with the strings and sticks balancing the different people at each level.  You remember the kinds we made with our kids as school projects, or maybe hung a store-bought one over a baby’s crib.  I had one festooned with plastic butterflies that entertained my children, especially when they realized the butterflies moved when they kicked their feet on the crib mattress.

The mobile that was the society of the people was committed to being still, calm and static.  It hadn’t been that long ago that there had been two nasty sieges of Jerusalem that had led to wholesale massacres of people hiding in the Temple, less than 100 years earlier.  Power imbalances had led to civil wars and thousands of people dead. So status quo and peace was very precious to all.  It was a matter of life and death.  People didn’t want more war, more death, and more disaster.  They wanted stability.  They wanted safety.  They wanted security.

Jesus wanted equality.  He wanted people to share their abundance with people who didn’t have abundance.  He wanted fair play and justice, so that poor people wouldn’t be the oppressed and the marginalized.  He wanted healthy community, where all, young and old, were treated with compassion and respect.  Where status was not based on what one owned or who one controlled, but on how well one served, and loved the people who could least repay a kindness.

He wanted a community that laughed together, played together, worked together and experienced God together. A community freed from the fear of not having enough or being enough.  A community of love and joy.

To get there would take much change.  The mobile would have to move and bounce and whirl to get that change.  Herod and the Pharisees were not having it.  They wanted the mobile to stay still and peaceful for them.  They were prepared to sacrifice the people under them to maintain that peace.  They certainly weren’t going to let some upstart Galilean preach to them how to practice their faith and upset the peaceful mobile.

So they demanded signs, not because they wanted signs, but because they wanted to keep the mobile from moving.  And Jesus realized the game they were playing.  Jesus realized they kept moving the goal post and would keep moving the goal post as a way to discredit him in front of his followers.

When he tried to communicate this to the disciples, once again, they didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  They were fixated on their assumptions that there wasn’t enough food around because they could only believe in that which they could touch or taste.  They didn’t trust in this new community, they only trusted in what they knew.  They needed bread, not just once in a while but daily, like the rich folk could afford.  And that need was enough to erase their memories of the loaves and fishes that were in abundance whenever they met in community in the presence of Jesus.

Where do you find yourself in this story?  Are you worried about your daily bread? Are you worried about upsetting the status quo?  Are you stressed out about what other people might think if you do something different than everyone else?  Have you forgotten the special moments in your lives when you had a sense of community, of support, of the divine awe that inspired you and connected you to something bigger than yourself?

I hope amidst the challenges and the shifts of our world, that we remember to hold to the vision of a community and a society where all are valued, where all have found a bigger purpose to hope in, where all are committed to spinning the mobile until all know the joy and the glory of being beloved children of God.

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.