Stuck in our own ditches, Investing in sheep

On this Good Shepherd Sunday, it is helpful to remember the reality of working with sheep.  They can be very smart, especially the bell weathers, and at other times they can be, well, not the cleverest animals you have ever met, and just as prone to mistakes as we humans can be. Here's a video to remind us what sheep can be like: (99) Sheep gets stuck in trench, jumps back in - YouTube. So they can get into ruts and need help getting out, only to fall into bigger and deeper ruts.  Not unlike humans.  We can get caught in emotional ruts and intellectual ditches unintentionally, we can get stuck and not know how to extricate ourselves from the holes we are in.  

Cue the shepherd, and not just any shepherd, the good shepherd as mentioned in our scriptures this morning.  One thing I learned this week was the word for ‘good’ used in the original Greek might be better translated as ‘model’.  So, although the shepherd in our scripture is contrasted with a hired hand who doesn’t have a relationship with the sheep other than their paycheck, it’s not so much that the shepherd is ‘good’ and the hired help is ‘bad’.  It is that a model shepherd, an ideal shepherd, the kind you want to hire to take care of your flock, invests more than time into the flock.  It’s not just about the paycheck, it’s about where the heart is invested.

Both our scriptures talk about Jesus, our model shepherd, as being so invested in the flock that he was ready and willing to sacrifice even his life for those sheep.  To be so into a loving relationship that the gospel writer later wrote, “greater love has no one than this that someone lays down their life for another”.  Our model shepherd loves so deeply that they will risk their body for not just another person but a whole community.

That is quite the model to follow.  That’s quite the inspiration, that’s quite the big shoes to step into.  Jesus said that this love was so big that it encompassed others who were not a part of the inner circle, the disciples and followers that were part of the flock.  Jesus specifically spoke about the other sheep that were also needing a shepherd.  The ones who were lost, the ones who had wandered off, the ones who were isolated, the ones who were in pain or in danger.  Jesus wasn’t there just for the 12, or just for the people of Israel.  Jesus was there for the big picture.  Jesus was deeply, emotionally invested in the wellbeing of each and everyone in the world.  That’s quite the model.

We see plenty of examples where people are not following the model of being invested in the wellbeing of everyone.  Anti maskers who want their businesses reopened and so what if a few old people die here or there.  Racists who think it’s fun to use a microphone with a noose attached to it during a public demonstration in Northern Alberta.  Politicians who don’t support their own party’s stance on health regulations.  A legal system that throws out tickets issued to people flaunting the health regulations. Police officers who think it’s okay to kneel on someone’s neck for nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds.  Plenty of stories of people who are more like hired hands than role models.

We too are called to listen for the Shepherd’s voice and become loving, invested role models for our community.  This is not easy work.  How do I love the person who thinks that I am bad or political when I wear a mask or sign up for a vaccine?  How do I love the person who tells me I am a sheeple, and stupid for believing doctors, scientists, and politicians?  How do I love the neighbor who thinks it’s okay to pollute the world with facemasks?  Or the family member who promotes conspiracy theories every time we call?  Sacrificial love is not easy in these situations.

Where are the role models who care to the point of sacrificial love?  I recently learned about a movement in Minneapolis that started after the George Floyd murder.  One lady courageously donned her clergy collar, e-mailed her colleagues, and went out into the riots to listen and support protestors.  She became part of a growing team who wear bright orange t-shirts with the word ‘chaplain’ on it in bold letters.  They hand out everything from bottled water and pizza, but mostly they listen.  They listen to trauma, fear, anger, frustration, racism, injustice and more.  And day by day, they are modelling what it means to be a caring and loving presence in the world.  It is not easy work, it is not safe work, but it is work that they have felt called to do.  To bring healing in a time where the world feels out of control.

Sacrificial love for ordinary sheep is the model shepherd’s highest intention.  The model shepherd is not me, and not you, but we can become inspired to imitate that model to our best abilities.  Just as Jesus had very clear intentions centered around loving his flock, we need to wrestle with our intentions.  Why do we feel the need to pick up that phone, write that letter, talk to that person?  Is it out of love for our community or is it out of anger or fear?  Can we see that individual as part of our flock that we are called to guide?  There are some sheep that are in a deep hole of anger, distrust and fear because that’s how they are meeting their needs for safety.

And we need to be aware that we can feel more like the hired hand than the shepherd.  Our ability to love that sacrificially might not be there yet.  We may not be as healed as we’d like from our own feelings of fear and anger.  We may not be invested in their welfare as much as our own.  This may be the Model Shepherd’s voice calling us to rest patiently until we gain our own strength and safety before we try to rescue others.  It’s very easy to think we can fix things and people when we are stuck in our own ditches.  And trying to fix other people because we know best is the very definition of colonial oppression which led to residential schools and other racist interventions; because we did not have our intentions grounded in sacrificial love. 

And maybe we need to recognize that we are not the shepherd called to help them out of that hole, or that this is not the right time for us to help. Our most loving action may be to rest and pray that we be pulled out of our own ditches and that they may find someone wise and patient who has the skills to pull our neighbors out of their ditch too.  There are many resources that we can refer people to. But we can choose to invest in the most loving outcome for people who are struggling, just like us, to make sense of the world.

We are not Jesus, the model shepherd who is deeply invested in our welfare.  But we can listen for Jesus and remember to do our best to love others as we have been loved, deeply, unconditionally, and love ourselves as well especially when we feel like we’re caught in a ditch like a silly sheep.  We are loved, even then, and thanks be to God for that sacrificial investment of love!

Who Ya Gonna Call? Lock Busters!

 

People say that it takes a lot of repetition before we remember something.  Well, it took more than a few years of repetition before I realized that we always hear the story of Thomas the first Sunday after Easter.  The early church thought it was so important, that it is right up there with the Luke passage on Christmas Eve.  Even the Road to Emmaus is only once in three years.  It’s a pretty special story, and one that is trying to get the critics and cynics to hear a message they don’t want to hear.

There’s a lot of that around these days.  Locked doors, locked minds, locked up emotions, locked up because we’ve been living with Covid and we humans are not very good with dealing with curtailments of our freedoms and our lives.  We have a difficult time with thinking about short term sacrifices for long term gains.

There’s an old experiment where children were told that they could chose to eat a marshmallow right away or they could wait and eat two marshmallows when the tester came back.  They were left in an empty room. A third of the kids ate the marshmallow as soon as the tester left.  The rest were able to wait, some as long as 15 minutes.  Interestingly, the kids who waited were more successful in school, in work and in their personal lives.  Waiting for the future, giving up things for a benefit down the road, these were all predicted by their ability to hold off eating the marshmallow. 

We want what we want when we want it and some folks want it now.  Some of us can wait, some of us choose not to wait.  When tragedy hits, we don’t know what to do with our wants.  We don’t know how to deal with the loss of our dreams and expectations.  We go into trauma mode.

That’s where the disciples were.  The anguish of losing their leader to state-sanctioned torture and brutal execution, the fear that they would be the next victims of that violence, the grief of having their dreams and hopes brutally stopped unexpectedly had put them into full-blown trauma reactions.

When we are faced with a stressful situation, we will instinctively respond in one of three ways, fight, flight or freeze.  We see that most clearly in war zones.  Some choose to become refugees and take flight, some pick up weapons to join a side and some hunker down waiting for the war to pass.  All are normal responses to conflict.  We too are likely to respond in one of those three ways.

Given the circumstances that the disciples were living in, an occupied country with extreme poverty amongst the Jewish people and extreme wealth for the upper-class elite especially the Romans and the collaborators, there was already a sense of Fight and Freeze.  The disciples thought they were going to serve Jesus as the king’s advisors and the Zebedee brothers were squabbling over who would get the best seating near Jesus’ throne.  Insurrectionists were a source of constant trouble for the Romans, and the temple authorities didn’t want Jesus to continue to stir the pot.  So, there was already trauma and conflict brewing.

No wonder the disciples, after facing the arrest of Jesus, scattered and ran and denied they knew Jesus.  No wonder after the execution, they gathered in fear and trembling behind locked doors.  They were living with trauma!

So what takes people who are locked down, scared for their lives, denying their faith and afraid to take a stand and transforms them into powerful public preachers?  How do we reconcile the fearful disciples with the man who wrote boldly, “We declare to you what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands…”  That is a strong and passionate statement to start a letter with, don’t you think?  How do we connect the dots between the locked doors and the courageous writer?

It keeps coming back to Jesus.  Not once but twice does he do his magic Houdini act, appearing behind locked doors.  He keeps showing up!  Again and again.  He’s willing to have Thomas touch him in his wounds, a most intimate act.  “See my suffering!  Hear my comforting words! Touch my trauma!  And please, let’s not wag fingers at poor Thomas.  After all, the rest of the disciples saw Jesus first and they still met behind locked doors.  What is striking about Thomas is that one appearance was all it took.  The others needed more, and could not convince Thomas that what they were saying was true.  Not because he was at fault but maybe because they still were not completely sure themselves.  They were teetering on the edge of transformation, from disciples to apostles, from students to teachers, and they were not quite ready.

What pushed them from trauma to new life, new hope, new vision and goals and expectations?  Jesus.  He pushed past the locks they had put in place to keep themselves safe.  He encouraged them to ask questions, comforting them with new challenges and thoughts.  He kept showing up in their lives and they grew to trust him.  He gave them choices and opportunities to touch him.  Thomas didn’t take Jesus up on the offer to touch the bloody cuts, but he appreciated the invitation.

We all are invited to a new holy and loving life.  We are invited to care about ourselves, our neighbors and our God.  We make mistakes and fall short, struggling to be honest even to ourselves about our flaws.  To hear John write that we all make mistakes is to hear that he too struggled with his own mistakes, his own fears and failings.  He too hid in a locked room, afraid to come out and share his truth.  But he testified that Jesus keeps breaking the locks to our own rooms and keeps coming into our own lives with the glorious Easter news that we are not alone, that God loves us with a passion beyond human experience and guides and supports us all in our times of trial.  Truly, blessed are those who have not seen Jesus and yet believe even in their fears and traumas.  Easter comes to us all, Halleluiah!

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)

Don’t be Political!

Trajan's Column, Rome
photo by M. Rosborough

 One thing we hear often as criticism of clergy is that we are too political.  They will say.  “Politics and Religion should be separate”, and for the most part United Church ministers avoid preaching about how to vote and who to vote for.  But that is not what our critics mean.  It’s not about keeping our views about conservatives and liberals and other parties a secret from our congregations, it’s about not disturbing the apple cart, not questioning the system, not pushing people to think about poverty or the environment or racism or reconciliation.  One person said that I was being political in my support of masks and public health restrictions, caring more about seniors and so-called fear mongering fake news than I cared about the economy and jobs.

Whenever I hear that, I think about Palm Sunday.  Jesus rode in on a donkey to crowds of cheering people desperate for signs of hope.  This year, I was struck by how he was living according to the anacronym we have been exploring: PIE – public, intentional and explicit.

Riding down the street while crowds cry out for help, that’s pretty public.  Hosanna means ‘save us’ and it is the cry of a desperate people that have felt oppressed for far too long.  “Save us from our feelings of helplessness, save us from our fears of financial ruin and starvation, save us from our anxieties around whether or not we will be able to put food on the table, save us from being bullied and pushed around by roman soldiers and tax collectors.”  Both Jesus and the people are being very public.

Then there’s the intentional part of what Jesus did.  As Robbie pointed out, people didn’t just go around grabbing each other’s donkeys, especially young ones that had never been ridden before.  This doesn’t sound like a snatch and grab, but possibly something Jesus had arranged ahead of time.  It sounds like he knew where the colt was and instructed his disciples in the appropriate response once they were questioned.  Then he rode it down the street where he knew he would be seen and heard by everyone.  He was intentional about when, too, as people had gathered for a festival and had cut branches before they had come.  He knew they would be there, and timed it accordingly.

Lastly, the explicit part.  Jesus was reminding people of all the royal parades and references to scripture and history of other times kings of Jerusalem had ridden into the city for holy events.  In Rome, there would be a parade at the end of every war, with slaves captured and booty raided.  This was something that an authority figure did to remind the citizens of where the power lay.  But Jesus didn’t parade in with soldiers or treasure chests.  He came simply, accompanied by his friends and followers.  He didn’t head to the palace of Herod, king of Israel, to topple his government.  He didn’t storm Pilate’s castle either.  He went straight to the Temple.  He was only interested in challenging that institution and confronting the legalistic attitudes of the people in charge.  I found the last verse especially striking, “he looked around at everything, and then returned back to Bethany”.  It sounds like he was inspecting the place, acting as if he was the principal wandering into a classroom to see how the students and teachers were doing.  Preparing to overturn tables, to teach, and to challenge the Pharisees and Sadducees to theological debates.  

Public, Intentional and Explicit.  Bravo Jesus, for doing all this, but pardon me for saying the obvious, but so what?  I don’t think we’ll be leading parades down main street any time soon, and I’m not planning to ride a colt bareback when I don’t know how to hang on without a rein or saddle, especially one that hasn’t been trained yet!  What’s that got to do with us in today’s culture?

Now more than ever, there is a need for calm, sane Christians to speak up with voices of reason.  All too often stories about pastors and preachers are about the scandals, the arrests for non-compliance, and the grab for headlines.  People with no connection to church may very well think we are a bunch of fringe cultists.  Public voices of reason are vital to getting through our current crisis.  We modern folk can relate to the cries to save us, we too feel oppressed by the current need to do what we can to stay calm in the midst of turbulent times.  We too feel anxious about the variety of opinions about what is the right thing to do to stay healthy.  We hear angry voices calling us names when we try to have a respectful conversation.  We feel sorrow when we hear of tragedy both far away in Rohingya and in our own community like Kelsea Thunder in Cornwall.  We need saving just as much as those first-century folks lining the road and throwing down their coats in front of Jesus to make a pathway fit for a king.  But our faith is helping so many of us stay calm and level-headed.  We need to speak up and let people know when our strength and resilience comes from our faith.

Then there’s intentions, and I remember the old saying, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”, but one of the spiritual practices in our Lenten study this week is called the Examen, where we are asked to spend some time each day thoughtfully reflecting on our actions and conversations and whether they were loving towards ourselves or our neighbors.

And being explicit means for us being very clear and articulate that what we do is to the best of our ability in the service of God and neighbor.  A tall order, but we have God’s grace to guide us, empower us and encourage us as we too shout Hosanna, save us.  And God hears us, supports us, and loves us so much that even Good Friday cannot stop God’s love.  Thanks be to God for this very political way of life we are called to be on.  Amen.

Step Away from the Whip!

Lent is a good time for confession and self-reflection.  Stories like our scriptures today remind us to stop a moment and take a good deep look at what we are doing in our lives.  Is it Christian?  Is it Faithful?  Is it Holy?

Jesus comes storming into the Temple on one of the most holy holidays of the year, Passover. He picks up his whip and gets going.  He threatens to destroy the Temple. What a public relations disaster!  Can you imagine what would happen if I waltzed into a basilica or the legislature and tried to do something similar?  Jesus got off pretty easy, he didn’t get tazered or tackled or even arrested. 

I felt a similar surge of anger, or what I imagine was a similar anger last week when someone quoted C. S. Lewis to bolster their message that masks and curfews and vaccines are destroying their right to a turkey dinner in a restaurant with 30 of their closest friends and family.  I felt anger not because their message has changed or that they are completely disregarding the science or dismissing human suffering.  The straw that broke my camel back was that they dared quote C. S. Lewis to justify all this conspiracy spreading!

So naturally, I dived into my collection of Lewis, looking for the passage where he talks about doing what’s best for the neighbor, so if a Catholic and a Protestant worship together, the Catholic would not make the sign of the cross out of respect and consideration for the Protestant, and the Protestant would make the sign of the cross out of respect and consideration for the Catholic.

I didn’t find it.  But I did find a lot about what Lewis says is the deadliest, most tempting sin of all, Pride.  If I go out to do righteous battle with folks who are carrying tiki torches, and I feel a sense of pride in my skill at arguing, or I feel good about how smart I am or even more subtly, I feel happy in how right I am, I am slipping into the sin of Pride.  Who am I to think I can charge in like Jesus did, whip in hand and change the world with my passionate facts thrown at their heads, hoping they will flee like the money changers and make the Internet safe for logic and common sense?  Sure Jesus did that, but I’m no Jesus!

When we set ourselves up as the experts, as the ones with the right answers, and even worse, we pick up our whips made up of facts and opinions and research and set off to beat people over the head in hopes of purifying them, we set ourselves up for the temptation of becoming Proud and Arrogant.  That sounds distinctly unChristlike.  But it’s so tempting to prove that I’m right and you’re wrong.  That I have the right to whip and beat you until you agree that you are bad.

Some of us use big whips, we argue and bluster when there is a crowd listening to us, we have a microphone and a DJ music system to make sure everyone knows what we are saying.  Some of us use small whips, little digs, little criticisms, little put-downs, little complaints and we do it more often.  Someone called it ‘nibbled to death by ducks’, another called it the 5 emotional cancers that can destroy a community slowly from the inside out: 

Criticizing, Complaining, Comparing, Competing, and Contending.

These whips come from a sense of my own inadequacies, my own lack of confidence and are not what God wants for me.  That is what Paul would call the wisdom of the world.  The world believes that we live in a dog-eat-dog society, that we have to be the wisest, smartest, richest, toughest people in order to survive and criticizing others, complaining about them, comparing our possessions or our children’s accomplishments somehow makes us better than our neighbors, that’s the wisdom of the world and Paul says it’s the kind of wisdom that leads to ruin, it destroys lives and even civilizations.

The foolish wisdom of the cross is the real power of God, that God’s wisdom is not in competing to be the best or the smartest person in the room but to be found in small acts of kindness, love and sacrifice.  We are called, in fact, to put down our whips lest we also lose our way.

Sure, Jesus whipped the Temple clean, but it didn’t last long.  There was a system in place that had evolved out of the people’s need to find a guaranteed connection to God.  Pure sacrifices, safe coins without blasphemic images of Caesar on them, anything that would help people feel connected to God.  That system snapped back as soon as he left the building.  

Jesus picked up the whip because he truly loved his community and he loved God and he loved his disciples, but it wasn’t enough.  It would take something more dramatic than the whip to shake up people’s addictions to purity and encourage them to rethink their relationship with God.  It would take the cross.

We are called to reflect very carefully before we pick up a whip.  As Jesus said later in this same gospel, “you who are without sin may throw the first stone.” Too often we think we have the right to change our churches but while the passion may be appropriate, the whip wielding can lead to spreading the cancer, not healing the congregation.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it this way, “Those who love their dream of a Christian community more than the Christian community itself become destroyers of that Christian community even though their personal intentions may be ever so honest, earnest, and sacrificial.” 

Jesus transformed the community through the cross, not the whip.  We too, are called to lay down our whips and our pride, and open ourselves humbly to the power of God working in us in love.  Love in the end, is the only power to clean the temples of our lives.  

Help us God as we build a community of thriving, loving and courageous people of faith, filled with your foolish wisdom.  Amen.

Kumbaya Oh Lord!

I remember learning to sing Kumbaya in school and at camp, and it was simple, fun, and open to as many verses as we could come up with. But over the years, Kumbaya has become a symbol of shallow togetherness, artificial peace and pretend harmony.  Everyone gathered around the campfire singing of simple times and not really knowing what the song is about.

So Kumbaya, for better or worse, has gotten a bad rap over the last 10 or 20 years.  And I’d bet that Peter was thinking his time of discipleship with Jesus would be one long singalong campfire joyful healing experience as Jesus and the disciples wandered around from one town to another getting rave reviews and growing their numbers.

Jesus had other ideas and clearly articulated them to his disciples.  That’s when Peter lost it.  He jumped up, pulled Jesus aside and accused him of messing with the mood, of being a Debbie Downer instead of a ra ra leader.

Which led to conflict and what we call ‘a teachable moment’.

Conflict is not a pleasant thing at the best of times.  It leaves us feeling unsettled, squeamish and upset.  I remember when I was little hiding under the sofa with my hands clamped over my ears when my parents had arguments.  But surprisingly, when two ministers of the United Church took a sabbatical in 2019 to study thriving congregations, they found that thriving congregations were not ones of no conflict, singing Kumbaya around the campfire, but ones that did have conflict.  So many congregations, especially since the big splits in the 1980’s and 90’s.  They worry about losing members because of differing opinions.  They avoid conflict at all costs and unfortunately that can cost their ability to thrive and be healthy.

Now I’m not saying that a healthy congregation pulls out the boxing gloves and lets people take a piece out of each other until everyone’s rage is spent, but conflict can be done in loving and respectful ways.  If we try to cover up the rubbing points, it can be like blocking up the spout of a kettle that’s plugged in.  When the water reaches boiling temperature, there’s no where for the steam to go and the kettle explodes.  But if we can be open to communicating that we’re feeling a little hot, we can unplug our kettles before we boil over, and that is what leads to healthier, thriving congregations.

How do thriving congregations handle conflict?  Well, going back to the Mark passage, we see some things that Peter gets right and Jesus gets right, and some things Peter gets wrong and even Jesus messes up.  Who wins in this ancient boxing match?

Jesus states his mission and his values, his goals and his objectives clearly and articulately.  Point to Jesus.  He does so openly to the whole group, no secrets or side conversations.  Another point.

Peter hears something that bothers him, and he decides to talk to Jesus directly.  He doesn’t start rumors or complain to the other disciples behind Jesus’ back, or even stomp off in disgust, which is the equivalent of the kettle blowing up.  He decides to talk to Jesus about it.  That’s a point for Peter.

Peter then pulls Jesus aside and speaks to him quietly, not in public, another point for Peter.  When we correct people in public, especially if that’s the only thing that we do, we are shaming and embarrassing them.  That is not respectful or loving.  So far it’s a tie, Jesus 2 points, Peter 2 points.

But then it goes off the rails into a full-out yelling match.

Peter assumes that he knows what’s best for the group.  Bring out the guitars, he tells Jesus, let’s make this a happy sing along, enough with the gloom and doom.  Peter is not the slightest bit curious as to why Jesus would say what he said.  Peter is not interested in building understanding, only in pushing his agenda.  He loses a point for this. Peter 1, Jesus 2.

Jesus gets mad and lets ‘er rip!  He resorts to name calling, my favorite version is in King James, “Get Thee Behind Me Satan!” So often we see folks resorting to name calling instead of discussing facts.  I certainly see that a lot on the internet.  Labelling is a losing argument.  Jesus loses a point.  Still tied but now it’s 1 point each.

Then Jesus scores two more decisive points.  He gathers everyone together and doesn’t say “Well Peter, you smell like fish, and your fingernails are dirty.  Trim your beard and wash your sailor’s shirt.”  No shaming or blaming here.  Jesus 2 Peter 1.

And Jesus gets the second point by restating and rearticulating his vision and mission.  “It’s not about your comfort or your fame or your happiness.  It’s about the good news of God coming and being here and now for everyone not just the entitled.”  Jesus 3, Peter 1

Peter gains points to finish the match.  He sticks around to listen, he doesn’t stomp off saying “I quit”.  And he really thinks about it.  Tie game.  Or as conflict experts say, “Win win”.  No back stabbing, no gossiping, no nitpicking.  He buys in to the mission and ministry.  He buys into the message.

And what is that message?  That God is coming in the midst of our fears, our loneliness, our isolation, our frustration, our despair.  That the prayer of African American slaves as they were beaten would be heard.  They cried out “Come by here my Lord, Come by here”, “Someone’s praying Lord, come by here”, desperate prayers for freedom, prayers for courage in the face of the Ku Klux Klan carrying torches, and they found the strength and courage to travel all the way here despite such terrible treatment, to make lives for themselves and their children free of slavery and injustice.

Now more than ever we too live in times where courage and strength are needed.  We live in times where Kumbaya is more than a campfire song.  And we live in the knowledge that God is with us, we are not alone, thanks be to God!

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.